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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Note

Hi! your writing is so amazing and I always come back to the Geto x reader works you did. I’d love to request a strong female reader whos a warrior that catches Geto’s eye. I know this is vague but I hope it can give you some ideas. Again thank you for your amazing writing its so entertaining 💗💗

The Commander: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

Suguru knew what might happen if he began allowing females into the King's Guard.

He knew what circumstances he would be putting his men - and himself - in if he did this.

But his troops were so few... and the King himself even had the grand idea that it would be best if they had women in the Gaurd to boost morale in his regime.

He caved the day Satoru - with his glassy blue eyes and somber expression - told him that he had to fix public opinion in his favor - or else. Suguru knew this threat was hollow, but the fact that Satoru - his best friend since childhood - thought it was time, well... that was enough to persuade him.

As announcements went out around the country, Suguru didn't really expect anyone to show up for training. Training as a King's Guard was brutal, and the regiment would include fasting, staying awake for three nights in a row, and building rapport with the others in order to complete the final task - a trek up the highest peak in the middle of winter.

And at first, no one did. Suguru smirked to himself every day that passed, bringing forth no new women into the fold. Perhaps things could be kept as they were. Things could remain as they always had been, and no one would get hurt.

But on the third day of recruitment, you came swaggering in through the gates of the training grounds, pack loaded up on your back and eyes determined.

Everyone held their breath - that's something that Suguru remembered quite well - until you stated your name loudly for all to hear, and dumped your pack onto the ground with a thud.

"I'm y/n from the Whispering Hills," you stated, hands resting on your hips. "And I've come to join the King's Guard."

____________________________________________________________

Everyone knows better than to laugh at a child of the Whispering Hills. The people from that area of the country are famed for their ruthlessness, unwavering loyalty, and quick tempers. They also believe in the Old Gods, which were banned from being worshipped long ago by the king before Satoru's father.

But no one seems to care that you wake up at the crack of dawn, walk out into the field with your nightclothes still on, and kneel in the direction of the hills with your eyes closed and hands folded in prayer.

No one says a word when you stay behind to eat and the others go off to pay tribute to the New Gods with offerings of wheat, grains, and fruits.

No one, not even Suguru, bothers you when you slay an animal and burn it on a makeshift altar (animal sacrifices are also forbidden) because they know you will cut them to pieces without even blinking an eye. And you'd be fully justified in doing so.

Suguru watches you do all of this, his eyes assessing you carefully as you train with the other men without missing a beat, without being injured or tapping out.

And for some reason, the deepest fear he had begins to blossom in his chest like an unbidden guest taking residence in his space. He's watched you for a few weeks now, just being yourself - but has never spoken to you one-on-one. Why hasn't he just--

"Commander."

The voice belongs to you, and you stand above him, looking just as you did on the first day you arrived. Suguru's eyes dilate and he swallows hard past the lump in his throat.

"Yes, y/n?"

"I must request a short leave of absence to meet with my people at the foot of the hills. It is festival season."

"I cannot permit you to leave training for your festivals," Suguru looks back down at his papers, shrugging. "You made a commitment to remain here with us during your training. You must keep that promise or be kicked out of this year's recruits."

Suguru doesn't see the shift in your stance, but he can feel the air around him shift from respectful to hostile. When he looks up at your expression, though, you look perfectly fine.

"Understood."

_____________________________________________________________

But things were not fine.

"Sir! She's refusing to do anything, and we can't complete the trek up the mountain without her in our group."

Suguru's had enough of your non-compliance. Ever since he said "no" to you going back to your hometown, you'd been unmoved from your station in your tent. Festival season was long over, but you'd remained in your tent, alone, and unwilling to reemerge.

The flaps on the tent swing open as Suguru storms in, his hair and eyes wild with disdain.

"Get up," he mutters, and you rise from your bed, looking over at him with bleary eyes. "You made a commitment."

"You do not honor my gods," you begin, wiping your eyes. "I will not come out until the moon has completed its course."

"I said, get up." Against his better judgment, Suguru pulls you up out of your bed by your arm and drags you to your feet. You sneer at him and bark the command to let you go, but Suguru ignores you - again, a poor move on his part. Because then, without speaking, you launch into an attack.

Suguru's been studying you carefully, and he knows your go-to moves, dodging them with ease and skill. You can hardly catch him off guard as your fight spills out into the open, calling the attention of all of the guards-in-training around you.

Suguru's long hair flies in the wind as he ducks, avoids, swiftly blocks, all while you're on the offensive, face turning a deep shade of red as you try to land a single blow on his body. If you could just get him once... then you'd have a personal achievement and a justified temper.

"Your temper is unyielding," Suguru pants, face splitting into a wild grin. "But your body cannot last as long as mine."

"We'll see about that," you reply, hands and fists flying with precision. After a few more moments of this back-and-forth, Geto stops you with two well-timed punches; one to the stomach, and one to the chest. You stumble back to catch your breath, vision blurring, but his hands grip yours behind your back, twisting them painfully.

"Yield."

"I will not yield," you grit out, pain shooting up your arms.

"Yield and I will spare you the punishment that follows."

"I will not yield!" you scream, bucking against the brute strength of the man.

"Your pride will cost you, then."

_____________________________________________________________

Your pride cost you more than just discomfort.

As you lay at the foot of Suguru's bed, your mouth whispers silent curses upon the Commander.

"Hush," Suguru gripes from his perch at his desk. "Your cursing is much too loud for my ears. I must focus."

"I hope you're never able to focus again," you snap, hands tied behind you.

"Such a sweet thing to say to your commander, soldier."

"I hope you choke on it." Suguru looks up from his book, but not at you, contemplating taming that snarky mouth of yours. But he decides against it, returning to his scribing.

Why are his hands shaking so bad, though? Had it really been so long since he felt challenged in a fight? And not only challenged but terribly aroused?

Suguru tries to fight these feelings day in and day out, looking at you with some terrible form of lust in his mind circling around him and making him go insane.

What could he do?

What should he do?

When he sees you laying on the floor with a death glare, he wants to break out into laughter and tell you to lighten up, but he knows if he does, he'll be ruined as a commander in your eyes. He must be stern, tough, unyielding, unshaken. All the things he's always been.

"You take yourself too seriously," you whisper, and Suguru looks over at you again, his brow raised.

"And you don't?"

"This isn't about me," you mutter, looking over your shoulder at your tied hands. "This is about your appearance." She's not wrong. "You want to seem strong. I've been eyeing you, Commander. I know how you work."

"Then you know I'm not going to let you get away with anything because you're a woman."

"But you do have a soft spot for me." Suguru rolls his eyes, despite you being absolutely right. "That's why I thought you'd let me go home for a few days. I see the way you look at me. Have you seen the way I look at you?"

"Don't," Suguru bites out, trying his best to avoid looking you in the eye. "Don't do that."

"Have you thought about me in your bed, Commander?" Suguru's breath hitches and he wonders if you'd snuck into his mind at some point, watching him watching you. "Or should I call you Suguru?"

The alarm bells in his mind are ringing, but something in Suguru lurches anyway, wanting you to say his name like that again.

"Y/n, this is neither the time, nor the place, nor the man you want to test you womanly wiles on."

"Oh?" You produce both of your hands, now untied, for him to see. "Or is it the perfect time, the perfect place, and the perfect man who has me all alone in his tent for the evening?" Suguru stiffens as you walk around to where he's seated, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "You going to show me who the strongest is, Commander? Or are you going to sit there and let yourself be taken by a woman, again?"

The answer is clear by the third hour of the morning.

Your hips smack backward, and Suguru hisses, hand coming down on your asscheek again.

"Tell me who the strongest is," Suguru huffs above you, one hand holding both of your wrists on the bed.

"You are," you breathe, looking over your shoulder at his pleased expression, dark eyes drinking in your features with the lust you'd preyed on earlier. "You're the strongest."

"That's right," Suguru exhales, leaning over your back and whispering in your ear. "I'll always be the strongest between the two of us. Don't forget that, y/n."

#geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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julieloveupstead · 3 years

Text

"I'm Never Leave You" - Upstead

CHAPTER 3

Hailey when she got to the district with Kevin did her best to keep herself occupied with something, so she wouldn't have to think about the meeting with Voight that was bound to happen, after all, you can't hide from you forever. She was grateful to Jay that he knew she wasn't ready at that moment and that she needed to occupy her thoughts with something, she needed to be busy, so she did. She sat in the Wire Room and looked through files of similar cases, but she couldn't focus on anything in the world. Furthermore, she kept the events of the last few hours in front of her eyes and even though she knew it was all meaningless now, she couldn't help wondering if things would have ended differently if Voight hadn't split her up with Jay after Adam and Kevin's argument. When Voight decided for her to go with him and Adam, without Jay, she felt a strange pressure in her stomach as if she expected something bad might have happened and if only she had listened to her instincts. Damn, why did it all seem so logical now, as if the flaps had fallen from her eyes, and now she could see more clearly. From the very beginning, Voight has been manipulating her and taking advantage of how she was treated by her own father. Did he treat Erin the same way? Was that the reason she left? Was everything that happened with Al those few years ago because of Voight? What about Antonio, was he manipulated by Voight too? What about Jay? Hailey has felt like she's in some kind of matrix ever since this happened, which has given her a headache.

- Goldilocks, what are you doing here? - She was pulled out of her thoughts by the voice of the Desk Sergeant.

- How is Serge? - Hailey asked, trying to keep her tone of voice normal.

- I could ask you the same thing. - The older woman sat down opposite Hailey and watched her carefully.

- I do not know what you are talking about, Trudy. I am doing my job, after all. - She really tried for an ordinary tone, and to confirm her words Hailey started to hit the keys, but for some reason her hands started to shake.

- Hailey, I've known you for a long time and I know that when something happens you run off to work, and you've been staring at the same page on the computer for 30 minutes. - Sergeant Pratt said with her usual omniscient tone. - Hailey, you're hiding it well, but I've got eyes. You've been acting strangely for the past few weeks. Your lover boy, too.

- How do you know? Since when did you know? - she looked surprised at the Sergeant, who was looking at her with satisfaction written all over her face. She was panicked because if Platt had guessed, then the rest of them probably already knew too. Damn. This wasn't how she wanted her friends to find out.

- I suspected right from the start, even when you were blindsided. Those looks in your eyes, the way you lost your head when Jay went missing those two years ago, Jay walking around like a kicked puppy left out in the rain when you left, and that horrified look on Jay's face when you got that package from the Feds. Luckily, you guys wised up, because it was really sad looking at you. - Seeing Hailey's surprised look, Trudy started to explain as if Jay and her were the most obvious thing in the world. - But rest assured, I only had confirmation when I saw you two at Kim's hospital last night. Jay was watching over you, more than an eye in your head. And the way he took you in his arms, if I had tears in my eyes I would cry - she finished ironically.

Hailey remembered as if through a haze what happened after she got home from what happened in that warehouse, and the hospital stay completely like a black hole.

- Listen carefully because I'm going to say this once and if anyone asks I'm going to deny everything, okay? - Hailey nodded, holding back a laugh. Because maybe knowing that someone knew about them was scary, the fact that the first person was Trudy wasn't so scary. Even Hailey had to admit to herself that she even enjoyed it a lot. The Sergeant had always been an authority figure to her. Thanks to her, she had become a police officer and whenever she had a confusion in her head Trudy appeared and everything seemed to make sense. Once, she even caught herself thinking that she would like to have a mother like Trudy, who is strong and doesn't allow herself to be blown away. She obviously loves her mother, but her relationship with her is complicated. The older woman has really been a bit like a mother to her, and therefore the fact that she knows about one of the most important things in her life is not even that scary.

- I don't know anyone who is more deserving of such love and happiness as the two of you.

- Thank you, Trudy - as if out of nowhere, they heard Jay's voice. Hailey turned and saw Jay leaning against the door frame watching them with a big smile. The blonde couldn't help but return the smile. How grateful she felt for her boyfriend and for the older woman who looked at them with pride was beyond description. Her family relationships were complicated and difficult to understand, even though she loved her mum, dad and brothers in their own way she had never felt so happy, loved as by this family she now had before her.

Jay walked over to Hailey and kissed the top of her head, making her cheeks redden, knowing that this time they were not alone in the room.

- Alright kids I'll leave you to it because it's getting too nice, and that doesn't bode well for my reputation for being stern and cold,' the Desk Sergeant stood up proudly and winked at both of them, to which the pair laughed. She stopped still at the door and turned to her charges. - If you want to talk about what happened in the evening you found Kim, because I know something happened, you know where to find me. - And with that she left the room.

- How does she know that? - asked a stunned Hailey, looking with wide eyes at the spot where the Sergeant had been standing just a moment ago.

- 'I don't know. She's Trudy Platt, after all, it's her job to know everything. - He shrugged his shoulders, stepping closer to his girlfriend. - Hey, don't worry, Platt won't say anything to anyone. - He assured, knowing that Hailey wasn't ready to go public with their relationship yet.

- I know, it's not about that. - She shook her head. Jay squatted down and waited for her to continue. He could see that Hailey was trying to find the right words, so he caught her hands with his, her palms, and used his thumbs to draw near indeterminate patterns to support her. - How does she know... Mmmm. Damn. - She snorted in exasperation.

- I mean, how does he know something happened then. - She mouthed so quietly that Jay, crouching close to her, had to really strain to hear what she was saying.

- Hey, Hailey, maybe the Sergeant didn't mean what happened in that warehouse - Jay immediately guessed what his girlfriend meant and lowered his voice, so no unwanted ears would hear. - Hey, take it easy, Honey. No one is going to find out about anything. I'm not gonna let Voight drag you down with him. You didn't do anything wrong, remember that, okay? - Hailey just nodded her head without conviction.

- Did you find out anything? - Changed the subject, Hailey, backing away from Jay. She knew she was acting out of character with her partner, but she needed something to occupy her head. The realization that someone might know something about what happened with Ray scared her more than the fact that they might know something about their relationship. She was afraid that Voight would plunge her down with himself and thus lose the two most important things in her life, Jay and her job, and without them, she didn't exist.

- Am. Nothing concrete. Serge gave me this temporary command - as usual, he understood her perfectly and knows exactly what she needs.

- So he will not be here today? - she asked close to tears and hope.

- Yes, you won't see him today - he said, and it didn't escape his notice that Hailey relaxed at once on this news.

- Christ, Jay, what are we going to do next? - she asked, close to tears again.

- Hailey,...

- I can't avoid him forever, they will find out sooner or later. - Tears were streaming down her cheeks now. When Jay wanted to grab Hailey's hands again, she broke free and stood up violently, thus pushing the man away. - I'm going to lose my job, do you understand? So many efforts, so many sleepless nights, so many sacrifices. So much to prove that I deserve to be a policewoman, to be here in this place - Hailey was already in hysterics, he had no control over what he was saying and thinking. Images of the warehouse where Roy was killed kept flying through his head and in front of his eyes. - Damn it, my father was right. I don't deserve anything. - and after those words, she ran out.

She had to get out of there, she couldn't stand to be around Jay any longer. She knew he wanted to help her, and she appreciated every second, every little bit of support she got from him, but she felt that if she stayed in that room a moment longer she would explode and do something she would regret. When she got to the bathroom she checked to make sure no one was inside and when she was sure she was alone she closed the door and let herself cry. She wanted it all to be over and back to normal. She didn't want to be afraid to come to work, didn't want her to have a panic attack every time she heard the Sergeant's name and voice. She wanted a normal life, with Jay.

Jay was concerned about the state Hailey was in, but he knew she needed to be alone right now to control her emotions, even though he was twisting to run after her and hold her in his arms and never let her go.

- Jay, we found something - Kevin appeared out of nowhere in the room.

- 'Okay, I'll be right up. - Jay wiped his face with his hand and looked at his friend. The detective hoped Kevin wouldn't see the tears that had come to Jay's eyes after Hailey had run out in despair, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

- Are you okay? - asked a worried Kev as he spotted his friend arriving.

- Mmm, yes - Jay tried to sound composed and confident. - What did you find? - he tried to focus on the case.

- Emmm - Kevin, concerned for his friend, had forgotten what he had come for, and it took him a moment to remember. - And that I found some similar cases, but I'll tell you all about it upstairs. And one more thing, Adam showed up, and so I led him into the case. - Kevin explained. Jay, who was walking next to him, just nodded his head.

Jay was unable to say anything, the only thing he could think about right now was Hailey. Where had she gone? Is she safe? Won't she do something to herself? Jay once again promised himself that if he saw Voight again today, he wouldn't be so nice this time. But he hoped he wouldn't see his Sergeant's face again today, at least.

When he and Kevin Jay entered the bullpen he didn't see Hailey anywhere and that seriously worried him, but while he felt like running immediately and looking for her, he had to take care of business now, and besides he felt that Hailey wanted to be alone right now.

- 'Okay gentlemen, what have you got? - he got straight to the point.

- Two bodies were found at the scene, one of which we've already identified. It's a Nathan Robertson. He's got a record. He did 3 years for battery, he's also got convictions for possession and drug dealing. He got out 3 months ago - Adam on the board showed a photo of the man in question - He was 25 years old. I called his family, but neither his mother nor father had been in contact with him for 2 years. - He continued. He looked for a moment for something in his briefcase, took out a piece of paper, and handed it to Jay. It was an abbreviated copy of the information he was now giving out loud. - As for the other, we still don't know who he is. We suspect he either has no record or is not from Chicago. Trudy is still looking in the missing person's database, maybe we can find something there,' Kevin added. Jay nodded, assimilating the information.

- 'Okay, so when did the shooting happen? Do we have any witnesses? Any word from the coroner yet? - Jay asked his colleagues.

- Neighbours heard two shots at 7am, which the coroner confirmed, but neither of them reported it, as they say it was none of their business, and they didn't want to get hit for reporting a crime. - People's disinterest kills police officers. If people weren't so afraid, if they weren't so indifferent to what was going on around them, this world would look completely different.

- As you can guess, there were not many witnesses. The only thing we know is that the day before, someone was hanging around this house. I haven't established the owners of the house yet. - Kevin said.

- I found similar 6 attacks in New York and 4 in Los Angeles. A year ago, LAPD arrested a man named Peter Allende. - He handed the tablet to Jay.

- And they connected these attacks to New York? - spoke up Hailey, who had now joined them imperceptibly. Jay looked at her carefully. It was obvious she had been crying, but she had put on a mask of professionalism, but Jay knew her too well and knew that these were just appearances in front of people not to ask questions.

It was tempting for the brunet to pull her close and hug her tightly, but they had work to do, and besides, one look was all it took for him to know that for a small moment Hailey wanted to feel normal and not think about what had happened. Jay respected that.

Hailey tried to pull herself together to focus on what was most important at the moment, which was the double murder case. And that was the only reason she was able to stand in front of her two colleagues and her boyfriend right now. She directed all the strength she still had in her to track down the criminal while she still had a chance, because there was no telling how long she would be a police officer. So she turned off every other thought, cut off everything that would distract her, and focused on this one task.

- No. Because, unlike the LA attacks, it involved one man with his nephew (who committed suicide, by the way, a few months after he was arrested), they attacked poor people's flats, and, most importantly, guns. Allende strangled the victims. - Kevin explained.

- So what's the connection to the NY case, LA and ours? - wondered Jay - Oh right this - for a moment Kevin clicked something on his tablet, then surrendered it to the detective.

Jay looked at three pictures of a packet of drugs with a flower stamp drawn on them, each flower was a different color, and then handed it to Hailey.

- The same marks on the drugs? - Jay remarked, and Kevin nodded in confirmation.

- Why didn't the LAPD pay attention to this earlier? Why didn't they connect it to those robberies in New York? - Asked Hailey, handing the tablet back to Atwater.

- Did you talk to Homicide? - Adam asked Jay.

- Yeah, but I didn't find out much. At this point, it was kind of the first attack in the Chicago area. - replied Jay, scratching the back of his neck.

- What about Voight? - Kev asked. Jay instinctively cast a worried glance at Hailey standing next to him. Hailey didn't let anyone notice her nervous swallowing of saliva and clenching of her hands into fists, but she knew that no matter how hard she tried, Jay would always notice any even minimal change in her behavior.

However, Hailey had promised herself that she wouldn't lose her cool again, at least not here at work, not in front of people, so she ignored Jay's worried look.

She can't let something like 30 minutes ago happen again.

- I don't know - the brunet shrugged his shoulders. - He gave me temporary command of the case. - Hailey looked at Jay surprised by the words, although earlier in the wire room he had already told her about it. - We're supposed to be working with Homicide, Sergeant Smith should be here any minute, with his men. - He said looking at his watch and as if on cue Trudy appeared, followed by two men.

- Detective Halstead, this is Sergeant Smith and Officer Wilson. - The Desk Sergeant introduced the guests. Jay nodded to her in acknowledgement and she left.

- 'Hello Sergeant. These are my colleagues, Officer Ruzek and Officer Atwater - he introduced - And this is my partner Detective Upton - he pointed to Hailey.

After introductions and a few kind words, the whole team moved on to the case.

- So to sum it up, Kevin said, "Two young guys decided to have some fun, so they got into possession of drugs, then someone came in and shot them. That's a bit of a stretch, don't you think?

- I think so too," said the still silent Hailey. - I'm just wondering where the drugs came from in that house, in New York and in Los Angeles.

- And why didn't LAPD link this to the New York case? - Jay added - Okay, we need to find out who the owner of this house is and identify the other boy, Adam will take care of that? - the man in question nodded and immediately started following instructions.

- Kevin if you could see if there are any amphetamines with that tag on them before and ask your CI if they know anything. I mean everything: about new dealers on the market, by the way, you know what I mean. - Jay told Kevin, who also rightly got to work. - 'Mr Sergeant and Officer Wilson, I'd like you to bring me all the files on fatal burglaries from the last two maybe three months,' he addressed Sergeant Smith and his colleague.

Hailey had a strange feeling that this Wilson was looking suspiciously too long at Jay, not that she was too jealous or anything, just a small remark like that.

- 'And Hailey and I will take care of talking to the NYPD and LAPD, okay? - Jay calmly said to the blonde.

- Okay, so what, I'm New York, and you're Los Angeles? - she allowed herself a little joke as the Homicide cops walked away.

- I don't know. - He pretended to think about it as he approached Hailey. - Don't you think it's too risky? - He scratched his chin, picking up on her game. Maybe they need at least a break from all this for a while.

- And why is that? - Hailey also approached Jay and asked in an innocent voice.

- They'll remember you and try to take you away from me again. - He turned around, checking that no one was around, and then touched his hand to Hailey's cheek, who closed her eyes. She wanted to tell him to back off because they were at work after all, but when she felt him touch her, she gave in to it.

Every time Jay touched her, all that other stuff stopped mattering, the only thing that mattered was that they were together, and the rest didn't matter.

- Hailey, look at me please - she slowly opened her eyes and was met with a loving and tender look that she always has reserved only for her and from which her heart beats 100 times more, he put his other hand on my other cheek. - I can't lose you anymore, Angel.

- Jay... - She wanted to interrupt him, but to poor effect.

- I love you so damn much - in Jay's eyes, Hailey noticed tears and panicky fear.

- And I love you, Jay - she whispered, watching her boyfriend vigilantly.

- 'Promise me that if it gets hard, that you feel it's too much, you'll tell me right away, okay?

- Mhmm, okay - Hailey didn't quite understand what Jay meant and wasn't sure if she would be able to tell him everything every time. She still has a lot of fear inside her, boundaries that she doesn't want to, and is actually afraid to reach with her thoughts, let alone say them. Even to him, the man she trusts most in the world. The biggest barrier he is afraid to cross is that if he knows everything about her, he will conclude that it wasn't worth fighting for and leave.

- I'm not going anywhere, I will never, ever leave you. - Jay as usual acts like he's reading her mind. - We'll deal with everything, sweetheart, I promise. - He pulled her close and hugged her tightly. Hailey knew they shouldn't be cuddling in the middle of the bullpen and maybe someone would come and see them soon, but she needed this. She needed those words, his touch and the sound of his heart. She needed him, and it hits her harder every time. The fact that this man loves her so much after what he has learned about her is something extraordinary.

When she put her arms around him tightly and heard his heartbeat, she closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it out. She drew that soothing scent of Jay that she associates with safety and love into her lungs and didn't want her to ever forget it. For the first time since crossing the threshold of this building, she could breathe freely.

She really hadn't expected how much she needed it and how much she needed the words that had just come out of Jay's mouth. Every time, she marvels at how Jay is able to read her mind and without any words knows what she needs. Maybe soul mates actually exist and Jay is hers, and she is his?

- We should probably get on with the job, don't you think? - She pulled away from him slightly, so she could look at him. She forced herself to get them both back down to earth, though this bubble they both created only lasted a few moments.

- Just don't fall for the NYPD's sweet talk - Jay nodded with a slight smile.

- I won't be so easily persuaded to change my mind, and besides, I'll be talking to the NYPD, not the FBI after all - Hailey remarked. Jay, still, kissed her on the top of her head and moved away from her.

- We should probably get on with the job, don't you think? - She moved slightly away from him, so she could look at him. She forced herself to get them both back down to earth, though this bubble they both created only lasted a few moments.

- Just don't fall for the NYPD's sweet talk - Jay nodded with a slight smile.

- Jay? - Hailey turned to look at Jay for a moment more before dialing a number. - I love you so damn much too. - She whispered so no one else could hear, but loud enough that Jay wouldn't have a problem with it.

Hailey felt that whatever got in their way whether it was Voight or her fears or whatever fate put in front of them, they would make it because they have each other, and they love each other very much.

Because Jay and Hailey are soul mates.

Because Jay is Hailey's safe haven, rock, anchor home and love of her life.

Because Hailey is Jay's safe haven, rock, anchor home and love of his life.

#Upstead #upstead fanfiction #upstead fic #jay x hailey #jay halstead #hailey upton

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dreaming-of-brawlstars · 3 years

Text

Fallen Starr

Desc: An Angel is quite the force, so surely, it must be able to handle the horrors of Starr Park. Personally. Whatever harms an Angel but be infinitely worse for mortals, so Mortis believes it’s worth the sacrifice.

Warnings: Unreality, self-doubt, memory altering and memory loss. Unhappy ending. Angst.

Author’s Note: I swear I will write a happy fic soon I swear I pr-

He should have known that it was a trap. He really should’ve expected something like this when he saw the way that he had been lured in.

It always hurt to be looking down to see atrocities and pain rampant here, and he showed himself in hopes that they would stop. Maybe out of respect, maybe out of fear, but everything seemed to get worse for those he was trying to protect.

He remembered how just a day ago he snapped, declaring that he would be dealing with them personally for their crimes. He thought that it would end there, that he could finally do what needed to be done for these criminals.

Now , it seemed that his plans were going terribly wrong.

The first thing that happened to him was the blinding white light that engulfed him, then nothing.

There was a faint ringing in his ears as he came back to consciousness, eyes still shut from the harsh brightness. His head spun and his chest tightened, and he felt his wings twitch.

He took a deep breath before opening his eyes, wincing at the sudden brightness, before sitting up and taking another look around. A few things immediately registered to him. He was in the park - one of the newer areas, he believed - where he descended. The air was crisp and cold, and the sun shone overhead through gaps in tree limbs.

He blinked away the last of the spots in his vision and looked around. In the distance, he noticed people.

They were watching him.

A scowl formed on his face, and he held his cane closer, pushing himself up. So, they caught him off guard, so be it. He wouldn’t be letting them get away with this, along with everything else, he vowed.

With a sharp crack in the air as he snapped open his wings, he set off towards the sky again. With each flap upwards, his body trembled with anger, tension and adrenaline. He kept his hands balled into tight fists while he gripped his cane tighter, ready to strike if someone got within reach.

He kept his eyes open, scanning for any signs of danger, any sign that someone was after him. He didn’t know what they could hope to gain by capturing him or whatever they were doing - he wasn’t part of some group, after all - but there was no doubt that they wanted something in return.

His heart sped up as he flew higher, anxiety rising. Something was off, he knew something was off but he couldn’t tell what. It was quiet, and he had a nearly overwhelming sense of deja vu. Like he had done this before. He paused, putting a hand to his head.

…they couldn’t have erased his memory, right?

He glanced back at where he woke up, trying to remember what happened before that. There was no mistaking it, his mind felt foggy, though he had tried so hard to clear it. But no matter how much he went over and over every detail, he just couldn’t seem to connect dots.

As much as he wished that he could figure it out, something told him that he couldn’t. Which was… greatly worrying to him. He felt something twist in his heart, and he put his hand over it, trying to calm himself.

“Calm yourself. Think. It will come back.” He tried to ignore the slight trembling in his own voice. “Deep breaths, Mortis, deep breaths.”

He kept his eyes closed as he continued to fly, focusing all of his attention into calming himself down. He took slow, deliberate breaths and focused on slowing his heartbeat, the beating of his chest.

This was not good, no no no, this was NOT good.

He could feel it. He could barely recall why he was here - it was to stop them, right? How did he plan to stop them? He shook his head, trying to snap out of these thoughts.

‘Focus. Focus.’ He repeated the words to himself until he felt calmer. He slowly opened his eyes, staring ahead, feeling uneasy as he watched the world pass him by. ‘Focus, Mortis. You’re an Angel. Your job is to protect and serve. You’ve never failed to protect anyone in your life, you’ll protect others now.’

Protect. He was here to protect… people. People who were captured. People who needed help. People he had to help. Those he was sworn to protect. He clenched his jaw and glared ahead, determined.

‘Focus! You have work to do, Mortis. This isn’t the time to be thinking about yourself. Don’t think about your feelings, don’t think about how bad it feels. Think about helping those you care about.’

His gaze turned forward and he stopped, hovering over the ground as he tried to take in his surroundings. The entirely of Starr Park, a theme park full a color, districts, and themes. Thirteen different areas, not including the area he just flew out of-

…the area he just flew out of? He blinked in confusion, looking back.

A sanctuary with green grass, trees, a cottage, golden roads. It seemed almost out of place, peaceful, like it was something he’d see at home instead of-

“Oh no.” He murmured, gripping onto his cane tighter. “No. No, no, no. Not happening.”

He shook his head and brought up his free hand to rub at his eyes before glancing around and taking note of the location and the people surrounding it. They stood in small groups, watching, waiting.

They were waiting for him.

He had to get out of here. Despite his vow, he couldn’t help if he was captured. He was supposed to keep humans safe.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to take a deep breath, steadying himself as he shot off to the heavens.

They were all staring at him.

He tensed at the realization.

He began flying away, wings flapping, praying that he could get away, to safety, anywhere. Then, a sharp painful feeling of realization and familiarity nearly stunned him before there was a bright flash of light, blinding and intense. His wings fluttered wildly, the familiar sensation of losing sense of reality hitting him like a truck. For a moment, the world flashed with dark shapes and forms as he fell - falling, falling. And he cried out, his scream piercing the air as he twisted to the side, desperately hoping that it wasn’t too late.

And then he hit the ground.

He let out a groan of pain as he lay on his stomach, curling in on himself as he fought to force his breathing under control. The pain of his fall, the shock and pain and sheer panic he felt, the pain in his heart.

“Ngh...” He managed, lifting his head up only to grimace in pain as it ached sharply. He reached up and rubbed at the spot on his forehead, feeling a bruise forming already - even though he hadn’t actually fallen onto his head. “Splendid.” He muttered to himself.

He let his fingers curl against the top of his head for a second before letting his hands drop, closing his eyes for a brief moment to try and regain some semblance of composure.

If anything, it made him more aware of just how exposed he was. Even with his abilities, even with his powers and authority, it seemed like Starr Park had found something to use against him.

How ironic, he mused bitterly to himself. He was supposed to bring these guys in. These guys were supposed to be his enemies. Instead of him bringing them in for judgement, they were going after him.

He gripped the cane, pushing himself up, deciding to think before taking off. He needed a plan, he decided. He needed an idea. And he needed it fast.

He took off, flying as fast as he could with his wings. He looked around frantically, scanning for anything that might offer an escape, anything that may give him an idea. Even if he had to leave behind people, he couldn’t help them if he was captured.

He was met with that same blinding flash of light, careening down towards the ground once more, only to hit a wall. Or rather, he crashed through a wall. He felt the impact jolt through his whole body, and he winced slightly, letting out a low groan as he pulled himself up.

“What in the…” He looked at the sky, looking for something that could’ve knocked him down. Or something that was the source of the…

What just happened?

He put a hand to his head, worriedly looking around himself. He couldn’t recall why he was here or what he had just experienced, just that he just got up with no idea what happened. He was scared, he was anxious… but why? What made his brain feel fuzzy and fuzzy around the edges. It hurt his head to even think about it.

It was strange, and yet… nothing else made sense. None of his other memories made sense - he could hardly recall what had happened. But angels didn’t have bad memory, that didn’t make sense. Nothing did.

It was unsettling to say the least, and he felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. Mortis looked around, deciding to walk to get a bearing of his surroundings. He noticed several odd things as he began to walk.

The trees were lovely, except it looked like something had broken some branches, leaving a small gap in the leaves. The golden path he walked along had some dents in it. Some flowers had been crushed and trampled. It was like something had fallen through the sky, but whatever it was, it was nowhere to be found.

“…why am I here?” He whispered softly, frowning as he started walking faster, his steps getting heavier and heavier, almost to the point of stumbling. He shook his head to clear it, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

He wanted to shake his head, telling himself that everything would turn out fine, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horrendously wrong. He tried to think of something, anything.

He was a guardian. A guardian Angel. He remembered that. He was here to… to protect people. So he probably shouldn’t leave until he found them. That was the logical decision, right? To find them and help them. To save them, at least.

But what had happened just then? Why was he doing this?

“I… can’t remember. I must’ve forgotten something.”

That was the most logical thing. But Angels don’t just… forget. Angels aren’t capable of forgetting. If anything, they always remember, no matter what. They remember every single detail, even when it hurts.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

He shook his head again, beginning to feel sick. He couldn’t place his finger on it but the atmosphere felt so different, it felt… off.

So, he hurried to keep moving, continuing to walk quickly through the park, trying to ignore the pain, the fear and anxiety. Trying to figure out what had just happened to him.

Something was wrong. There was a hole in his memories somewhere.

He shook his head harder, as if that would help.

“Ngggh…” He growled lowly, clenching his teeth as he continued to shake his head. He kept walking, refusing to stop, refusing to slow down or falter. He needed to get moving. He had a job to do and he couldn’t afford to waste another second.

But… what was he doing? Where was he? Why didn’t he remember? Why was he so scared?

He felt like he had to escape before he lost something important. Before something happened that he’ll never be able to recover from. Because he couldn’t let himself forget what happened. How terrified he felt, the way everything seemed to blur together so quickly - he couldn’t allow that.

Once again, he opened his wings, gliding as fast as he could into the sky, searching for any sign of life in the sky.

“I can’t afford to lose anyone.” He hissed, forcing himself not to stumble and trip as he moved swiftly across the sky. “Don’t let me forget. Don’t-“

He was an Angel. A protector. A bringer of light. He was here to protect people. And he was… leaving alone?

“Ach…” He hissed in slight pain, wincing as he flew a bit slower than the original speed. He glanced around, trying to look for anything, anything out of place. Anything strange, but his senses told him everything was normal.

Normal.

But that wasn’t right. Everything felt so wrong. Like something had happened. Like someone knew where he was.

No. No. This was crazy. This was a dream. It’s just a dream. Just a nightmare. A nightmare caused by stress and anxiety - what troubled him so much?

Maybe he had to protect someone. Maybe he shouldn’t leave. Shouldn’t just abandon them.

He shook his head, pressing his palm flat to his face. He should focus on finding his targets. Getting them back. Getting…

“I need to find them.” He said aloud, trying to convince himself of his own words. “There’s no time to spare. I need to get them, take them away. Away from this place.”

If he was surfing a simple brain fog, he couldn’t imagine what mortals would be suffering. It would be too painful. His mind wouldn’t be able to handle the pain of thinking about all the possibilities. All the horrible thoughts swirling around inside his own head that would be so unbearable to even think about that they would be impossible to bear.

It would break them. Make them shatter into pieces. No good Angel would leave mortals to that kind of fate. So, he would stay. He just needed a higher perspective so he could see better-

Light.

“Gah!” He cried out, falling through the sky. Falling. He fell.

He grabbed onto his chest tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as his arms flailed wildly as he struggled to regain control of his flight.

What was going on!? What was happening? He was falling - why was he falling?!

Why was he so scared?

He opened his eyes wide in shock, his grip loosened, allowing his hands to fall from where they had been clinging to his chest.

His vision began to swirl as his heart pounded in his chest. He blinked rapidly, attempting to keep his breathing steady, but his panic was making it hard. He couldn’t breathe. He was panicking. Oh God.

Where was he?

He felt like he was still plummeting through the air, unable to stop his fall. He tried to close his eyes against the wind, feeling something burn at the corners. The air whipped at his hair and clothes, tearing at him, and all he could do was brace himself for the crash.

Crash? Crash.

He was about to crash-

Mortis began to claw wildly at the air in a frenzy as if he just realized that he was falling. All he knew was that he was panicking, he was terrified, he was crying. He desperately tried to grab onto something despite now nonsensical it was. He couldn’t stop his hands from flying, clawing at anything that he could possibly reach. He wanted to scream in terror. He knew he could barely breath.

He closed his eyes tight, letting tears spill over as he clawed at his chest as if he was trying to get it out. His heart was screaming at him, like it had been broken a million times over. Like he realized something horrific but he had no knowledge.

He had never felt so helpless. Never felt more helpless in his entire existence. He was falling through the air with such force that he feared he break something if he were to hit the ground.

He crashed, crashing into the ground with such intensity that it cracked and shattered, sending shards everywhere. Dust filled the air, clouds of it obscuring sight, preventing Mortis from seeing his surroundings clearly. He curled up, feeling himself begin to cry, clutching his chest tightly, tears rolling down his face as he sobbed, his chest burning horribly.

“Help.” He gasped painfully, his eyes shutting tighter, tears dripping onto his cheeks. His arms wrapped around himself tighter. He was shivering slightly, although he could hardly tell.

There was a faint ringing in his ears as he came back to consiousness, his eyes still shut tight. His head spun and his chest tightened, and he felt his wings twitch. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes, wincing at the sudden brightness, before sitting up and taking another look around.

The dust that he assumed was stinging his eyes, didn’t help, and nothing immediately registered to him. Confused, he attempted to get up, feeling himself aching. He looked around for his cane, finding it nearby and grabbing it up, standing unsteadily. He turned to look around further, trying to figure out where exactly he was, before realizing.

He didn’t know. Or rather he was completely unsure of what happened at all. All he recalled was that he hurt, and he was looking for his cane to get up. That was about it.

“This is…” He mumbled quietly, raising his hands, shaking his head softly. “Where am I? Why did I come here? I thought I was working.”

Nothing at all came to mind. This place was vaguely familiar, reminding him of… he felt like he fit in in this area. There was a cottage, a few trees, golden paths. Fitting for an Angel.

Angel, he was a guardian Angel. He was supposed to protect people.

But… he didn’t know why this place made him feel so uncomfortable. He felt… empty. Empty and frightened. As if something had happened but he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to remember it. He wasn’t sure if he could if he wanted.

Well, if this place was disturbing him, he could only imagine how poor mortals would be handling it.

His lips pulled into a frown as his hands dropped, staring around for a moment. If there was anyone out here, anywhere, then maybe he could try to get them out of whatever danger they might be in. Even if they weren’t in immediate danger. Especially if they weren’t in immediate danger. He couldn’t think of any danger here, nothing jumped out to him. But then again, he was exhausted, hurt, and emotional, for some reason. Nonetheless, he didn’t feel like he should leave. An Angel could handle this, surely.

He shook his head slowly, turning away, walking along one of the paths, his feet dragging slightly, his movements slow and unsteady as he walked. His wings were crumpled - not broken - but he didn’t pay any mind to it. They would be fine.

He would be fine.

He was fine.

He kept moving forward, trying to ignore the fear. The uncertainty. The doubt, the uncertainty. The fear. He didn’t want to think about it. Maybe he was just worried for the mortals. He always worried about them so much, maybe a bit too much, but they were fragile. Unlike him. It would take a lot to take down an Angel.

Maybe he’d go look for mortals soon, ease his own worries by watching over them. He did get teased for being a mother hen over the mortals, but it was part of his role as a guardian Angel. For now, he was tired, and this place looked very familiar. Maybe this was home.

He found himself at the front door of the cottage - he didn’t even know that he made his way over to it. Hesitantly, he opened the door, pushing it open gently as he stepped inside. Once he entered, he glanced around briefly before closing the door behind him softly. He glanced around the house. Nothing seemed out of place, aside from a single painting placed carefully beside a picture frame, which caught his attention for a moment.

Himself. He was never the prideful one, not asking for portraits, but it appeared that he indulged himself in a commission and it slipped his mind. He didn’t recall hanging it up, but he shrugged it off. It seemed silly anyway. Perhaps he hung it here as an oddity. A gift to himself. A reminder of sorts.

With a slight smile on his face, he moved forward. Surely, if he hung it up, this place was home.

#[free qwen’s dreams]#brawl stars #mortis #angel mortis #fanfic #writing #my writing #what if!brawl stars

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans Are Space Orcs, “Psych Eval.”

I know some of you were hoping for the stuff going on in between, but I needed to get us moving for purposes related to the 23rd, so I think you guys can forgive me. I hope you like it.

A lot of you were calling for something similar to happen, so I hope it all works out. The last little bit was super fun to write.

Dr. Adric Jakande wasn’t entirely sure what he had signed up for. When he had moved from The coastal African provinces, it had been to attend the school of his dreams, and from there his path had led him to the UNSC where he had spent most of his time counseling veterans of the Panasian war. Then a letter had come across his desk looking for volunteers brave enough to take on a very new, and dangerous mission.

He had planned on ignoring it because his life here was stable and comfortable, but there was something about it he just couldn’t get out of his head.

It would be the hardest thing he had ever done: and it wouldn’t be just humans he would be dealing with.

Somehow, however, he found himself writing his name on the contract that signed away five years of his life to the crew of the Harbinger.

There was no turning back now, so might as well get to work.

He wanted to understand the dynamic of the ship and so had filtered through a hundred or more psychological evals. He didn’t read them all, and he wouldn't interview them all, but there were a select handful he was very interested in, and planned to take a look at himself.

He pressed the button on his desk causing the call light above the door to blink on in green inviting his first patient into the office. Footsteps followed, and a young marine, not too much younger than himself, slipped into the room walking over and sprawling out in the seat across from him, a smile pulled taught over his olive-tan face.

“Cprl. Angel Ramirez?”

“Yes, Sir, that’s me.”

He glanced down at the stats on the eval. The corporal seemed in pretty good shape except, “Tell me corporal, on your evaluation you reported higher elvels of anxiety than normal, Would you be willing to tell me why?” The corporal sat up sraighter his dark amber eyes narrowing a little.as he thought.

“Well, sir…. It has nothing to do with me really…. But a friend of mine has been having some problems lately, and I’m not sure if he will be able to get it together before we are on our way. It would pretty much ruin my life if he was….uh…. Not allowed to com .”

“Ruin your life? That seems pretty serious.”

He shrugged, “He holds the ship together, everyone loves him, and I don’t think we would make it in deep space without him.”

“Do you find deep space to be mentally taxing?”

He frowned a bit forced to think about it, “No, not really but I think that has to do with this friend of mine. He does a lot of stuff to get us to come together, activities, holidays, group meals, it really keeps crew morale and I’m not sure we would have it without him.”

“Is there anything particularly bothering you corporal, besides that/”

“No, I guess I miss my family a little, but I was just there, so that is expected. I’ll video chat them from orbit, so it will all be cool.”

He let the corporal go with a nod. The man was stable, happy, and well-adjusted. He would use him as a baseline.

The call light came on again, and another figure stepped into the room, at first he assumed they were a man, though turning around he could see that wasn’t the case. She had very short hair, and a face that could have gone either way, not unpleasant just different.

She took a stiff seat in the chair opposite him.

“Sgt Maverick Morozov…. Russian?”

“My family was a long time ago.”

“Says here you are the ship’s Chaplain.”

“Yes, sir/”

“Do you have a lot of work on the ship?”

“Not really sir, most of the crew is Agnostic, though some come and visit me to talk, though now that you’re aboard the ship that will probably trickle off.”

“Does this bother you?”

“No, not really. I will help people if they need it, but I don’t actively try to solve other people’s personal problems.”

“I am assuming you have a good relationship with your religion?”

“Yes sir, it saved my life once.”

“Do you think this has helped you cope with being in deep space?”

“Deep space feels safe to me/”

“Why is that.”

She shrugged, “I don’t know, its one of those feelings like maybe nothing has touched that place other than you and the will of some kind of creator. Space isn’t malevolent to me, its empty and dark-- in a comforting way.”

“Do you often experience malevolent things when you aren’t in space?” She paused frowning, “This makes me sound insane doesn’t it, but yeah, and don’t ask me why I don’t know. It doesn’t bother me that much, I can handle it, I just don’t like to.”

Interesting, he would have to take a look into that later.

“And your reported anxiety levels have been high lately. Why is that?”

“On the behalf of a friend of mine.”

Interesting.

“Someone on his ship.”

“Yes sir, if he can’t come with us, I will probably quit.”

“That’s a lot of loyalty.”

“I’ve no doubt he would do the same for all of us, so….. Yeah.”

He let her go thinking about this friend of there who seemed so important to them. He had no doubt she was talking about the same person they all were. He had picked this group of people very intentionally.

The door opened again, and a very, very large figure ducked through the doorway. Adric had to sit back in his seat to contain the surprise. The Drev was HUGE, he had never seen one in person before, and this creature was just massive. Six limbs, and bright red carapace. It almost had to duck to avoid hitting its head on the ceiling.

It ignored the chair, which made sense, and happily kneeled on the floor before his desk still coming into eye level with him even as he sat on his chair.

“Kanan?”

“Yes Kanan Lumnus’s son though all my human friends call me Cannon.”

“Forgive me, I have never interviewed a Drev before.”

“I have never been psychologically evaluated either, so I suppose we share a commonality.”

“Your file is a little sparse, but it says here you were a veteran of the Drev war, and that you were injured during that time. Do you experience any psychological symptoms related to the event.

“Not to the war itself, Drev don’t respond to trauma like humans, mostly because we do not perceive it as trauma. The worst part came after the war when I was exiled.”

He blinked, “Exiled?”

“Yes, i received a grievous injury during the war and my mother banished me from the clan to sacrifice myself to the burning spirits.”

He simply blinked, “Your mother wanted you to……”

“Throw myself into the volcano.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No I betrayed our traditions and left Anin. I nearly died starving a month later, but the humans took kindness on me, and I was recovered.”

“Feel free not to answer this question, but it says here that your…. Mate died during the war.”

His golden eyes saddened a bit, “She did, but she died in glorious combat, so I am not sad for her death. I am sad because of how little time I got to spend with her. Nechal and I would have had a strong brood, but we never got the chance.”

“How does this affect your daily life?”

He shrugged, “It does not, but i think about her sometimes at night before I sleep. And I do my best to honor her memory, and the memory of my father who died during the war as well.”

The Drev had plenty to be psychologically unstable about, but otherwise he seemed fine. He wasn’t sure yet just what a stable Drev looked like though, so he would have to do some more digging, “Thank you, Cannon, you may go.”

He met with a few other humans before moving on to his next patient Both of the humans were fine aside from concerns abut this unnamed friend of theirs, which seemed to be a recurring theme.

The door opened again and looked over confused at first when he did not see anyone , however a sharp scuttling across the floor caused him to look over his desk where a small, almost spider like alien was skittering across the floor.

As he watched it inflated a flap of skin at the back of it’s head and floated up onto the chair turning to face him. Its large orange prismatic eyes watched him cooly.

“Dr. Krill.”

“Yes, and you are Dr. Jakande.”

He glanced down at his paper and blew out through his cheeks. He wasn’t sure how to go about this. The anxiety this creature was experiencing nearly broke their scale, and on a scale of neuroticism he almost broke that as well. If he saw this in a person he would be very concerned.

“You seem anxious, doctor.”

“I am always anxious, it is a proclivity of my species. If you want an accurate reading on your test, you should lower the levels to a halfway point”

He glanced down at his paper, “That is still pretty high.”

“I am the commanding physician on a ship where all you humans are bent on getting yourselves killed, and even when you aren't I have to worry about whether or not you will choke on a grape because your larynx are so poorly placed. I am constantly surrounded by creatures that don’t understand the meaning of caution.” he looked very seriously at Adric just then, “These are my humans and I do not want any of them to die if I can help it though they seem to defy me at every opportunity.”

“Your humans?”

“Yes , my humans, my responsibility therefore they are all MINE.”

Ok this little guy was a bit on the crazy side. If he saw this out of a human he would be concerned, but i the creature was already prone to neuroticism than he wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

“Not to mention a friend of mine may not be returning to the ship, and if he doesn’t I will be out of a job.”

He paused, there was mention f that friend again, “Why would you be out of a job?”

“Because he is the only reason I am on this ship in the first place. He holds my loyalty.

Very interesting.

He let the little doctor go taking mental notes to talk more with him later.

A woman stepped into the room next,her long dark hair falling about her shoulders, large glasses glittering in the overhead lights as she adjusted her coat.

“Dr. Katie Keddrick you are the second attending physician on the Harbinger.”

“Yes, I was brought in to ease some of the burden from Dr. Krill.”

“And how are you coping with that.”

“Oh I am doing very well. I love it aboard the ship. Its just one big family honestly, very nice and homey.”

“That ‘s good. Tell me is your reported anxiety to do with a friend of yours who may or may not be able to return to the ship?”

The doctor paused her eyes wide, “How did you know.”

“A common theme.”

“Well yeah actually. He has a tendency to take all the burden on his own shoulders, so he doesnt cause issue to anyone else. He likes to control things though I don’t think he knows that. It never bothers any of us, but it is getting to him, and we are all worried that they won’t let him through.”

“This friend means a lot to you.”

“He brought our little family together, so yes.”

“You see the crew as family.”

She smiled, “Well doctor, yes but you will find that out there in the galaxy humanity survives by creating families. Everything that makes us human is magnified under the lens of space, our power our weakness, our goods and our bads.”

He talked with her a little more, she was intelligent and insightful about the workings of the crew, information that he found valuable before letting her go.

He only had one more evaluation before the big one.

This Drev dd not have to duck through the door as she came in. She was very small though the color of her carapace was a pleasant electric blue. She was able to seat herself on the chair tilting her head to look at him.

He wasn’t sure what to make of her evaluation.

“Chalan.”

“Call me Sunny.”

“Chief weapons officer.”

“Yes.”

“I am going to be honest, I was not sure what to make of your evaluation. You come across as someone trying very hard to prove they aren't affected by something very important.”

She tiled her head. She had the same gold eyes as the other Drev, “My mother didn’t like how short I was, or that I was not as talented as my brother, she treated me poorly and my father died during the war, so forgive me if I still have some unresolved conflicts.”

Very blunt, interesting.

“”How do you cope with those.”

“I remind myself that I beat my mother in open combat, also I have friends now.”

Hmm yeah they were going to have to talk some more for sure. This was less of a healed kind of thing and more of a stick it to the man sort of attitude. She was still trying to prove something, probably more to herself than to others.

“And you are anxious about a friend of yours?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because if he does not board this ship again, I don’ think he will live to see next year, and if that happens, I doubt I will either.”

That was…. that was kind of concerning and intense.

“Who is this friend of yours.”

She shook her head, “No, I will not be telling you.”

Aggressive loyalty, very, very interesting.

He tried prodding a little more out of her, but she didn’t budge, and he eventually let it go allowing her to leave.

He had one more evaluation…. The big one.

***

It was late, this evaluation had been scheduled for the last possible second, and he was curious to see what would come through those doors. He heard the clatter of UNSC issued dress shoes long before he saw anything coming steadily up the hall. He left the light on, and waited at his desk for the person to pass through the doors.

It paused outside his door and then slowly opened inward.

The light fell on a man much, much younger than he had expected. In fact, he could have passed for early twenties, if the uniform he wore hadn’t suggested at least seven years of service, which would make him, at minimum, in his mid twenties. He wore the uniform well, almsot comfortably as he crossed the room.

The look on his face was pleasant like it was just about to break into a smile. His one visible green eye was curious flickering around the room with some interest.

He made his way to the desk and held out a hand, “Dr.”

He took it, the grip was strong, “Commander.”

He sat in the seat just opposite and Dr Adric stared at the eye patch that covered his other eye.

He nodded to it, “I thought you had a mechanical eye.

“I do.” He said softly lifting the eyepatch up, so he could see the workings of the cold metal ball and its black aperture.

“Why do you still wear an eye patch?”

“Because, the eye has better vision than my normal one, and it can be overwhelming. I generally only use it when I need binocular vision.”

“Why not just shut it off, why wear the eye patch.”

He paused thinking head tilted, “It was a gift from a friend after losing the eye in a moment where I wasn’t sure I would make it through the injury. It lightened things up for me reminded me that there is always a way through.” He smiled, “Plus I think it makes me look dashing.”

The two of them laughed together for a moment.

“Why did you call extended leave like this, commander.”

HE sighed leaning back in his seat, “I had to work on myself for the good of the crew. I mean I saw how surprised you were, probably based on how young I am, right? Well due to that I am a novice at leading. I haven't had the time to cultivate how things work when commanding a crew, and I have made some mistakes that have almost cost me my job in the past.”

He listened.

“People tell me I shoulder too much burden and take on too much guilt. I recently learned that I have a tough time relinquishing control on things.”

“Why is that/ Do you often feel out of control.”

“No, but I think that’s why. The last time I was out of control is when I was a child and didn’t know how to fix it, so I assume bad habits formed from there.”

“Your family was stable?”

“Yes very, but school was…. Less than easy for me. I joined the flight academy after my freshman year of high school, so I don’t think I really had the life experience that most other people do when it comes to interacting with people my own age. The point is moot now, but it did hold e back a little maturity wise, I think.”

“You left due to extreme anxiety and stress?”

“Yes, I wasn’t handling it well.”

“And how are you doing now. I don’t see any records here saying you went to see someone .”

The man sighed, and for the first time Dr Adric noticed the German Shepherd sitting at the man’s side resting her head in his lap. She was wearing a service vest.

“I didn’t. I have done therapy before but the first time it didn’t work and the second time I was left with more questions than answers.” He patted the dog’s head, “She helped me the most and I decided that it might be prudent for me to try other avenues. I realized while I was gone that I was neglecting time for myself, and so I have developed a schedule to combat this.”

“Oh.”

“My average working day should be around nine hours, I only need about six hours of sleep. IN that case that gives me eight hours of free time, one of those I will use for exercise in the morning, and another for flight time.”

“Flight time?”

“My greatest stress relief, there is no better way to feel in control in an out o control way than flying, so I have worked it into my schedule and into budget in some way or another so that I can do what this fleet and the UNSC needs.”

“So, you have given up some responsibility, found yourself some free time, discovered stress relieving alternatives. Have you changed the way that you command in general?”

“I have made some changes to the command structure including a panel of advisors, which was just a good idea anyway.”

“You talked about maturity in your earlier statement. Do you feel that has increased much in the past few months?”

The man smiled and sighed, “As it turns out doc, that is the one thing I couldn’t fix at least in part.”

“Oh?”

“I can handle conflict and issues like an adult, but I have decided that some of that isn’t a maturity thing, it is simply a product of personality. So if the UNSC has an issue with a commander that makes too many Star Wars’ references and listens to 2000 year old rock music on the bridge, then I guess maybe I am not the man for the job.”

They talked a bit more until eventually Dr Adric stood.

The commander followed, he looked openly nervous now, though that was to be expected, this was the moment of truth.

Dr. Adric held out a hand, and the commander took it tentatively though his grip was still strong.

“I look forward to working with you and your crew.”

The near smile broke on the man’s face into a pleasant grin that sent little crinkly lines up through his eyes.

“You are in for a good time, Dr. Make sure to read the rules before you come aboard”

Dr Adric stood confused for a moment before glancing down at his hand.

He had not noticed the Commander slip him the folded piece of paper. He glanced up towards the door as the man’s foot vanished around the corner.

He stood in stunned silence for a moment before looking down and tentatively opening the note.

Welcome Dr. Adric Jakande to the UNSC Harbinger,

On behalf of my crew, we look forward to having you, and I am pleased that you are here to help my men with whatever they may need. You will be an amazing asset to our team.

There are a few ground rules I would like to lay out first. Of course, you know the UNSC code of conduct which I will not repeat, but I have a few personal rules that will make our lives all the much easier.

Rule number 1: Don’t chuck Marshmallows at Neutron Stars.

402 notes · View notes

whispersafterdusk · 3 years

Text

Lost in Time - ch 20

"Better have a good reason for dragging me out here, fellow."

The nights on this side of the river were unbearably hot, and the wind blew sand into every nook and cranny of person and building alike; Windsor could have sworn he learned in grade school that deserts were chilly at night but Eufala seemed to be different in that regard -- maybe it was the proximity to both the river and ocean, since the humidity alone was enough to make you want to die during the day.

That heat and humidity had already soured his mood by the time he'd returned to his motel room, and finding the little note jammed under his pillow hadn't done much to alleviate it; now here he was out in the middle of the desert, filling his boots with sweat, staring down the muscle-head that had left the note.

Franklin was an intimidating figure whose image was slightly undercut by the moonlight glistening on the healthy amount of sweat on top of his bald head; it was taking every ounce of self control Windsor had to not comment or laugh about it, or stare as a single bead finally ran down off the man's dome and traced a line to the lobe of his ear, then disappeared down his neck to soak into the collar of his shirt. ((Continued below cut))

"You're not one of them, are you? Duvos soldier, I mean."

Windsor met the man's gaze and shook his head. "Nope - just a humble bounty hunter and mercenary for hire. What's it to you?"

Franklin folded his massive arms with a grunt and a nod. "Figured as much. Listen. Xan's on the hook for some murders. He was given - "given" command of this last job," he repeated, flapping his fingers as he said it, "-and then, poof, dead commander. Xan's rise through the ranks has always been on the backs of the dead -- loads of blood in his wake but never anything that tied him directly to anything, but this one they can't let slide on a maybe."

The man went silent then and Windsor could tell by the look on his face that he was expecting a reaction; he kept his expression blank and let the silence drag on until the meat head was clearly getting frustrated. "Right. And?"

"...and so I'm here to screw things up for him. If he's discredited on something this important then no one is going to care if he disappears. The higher ups are willing to sacrifice another chance at an AI just to get him gone."

Windsor rolled his eyes. "I see where this is going and no thank you. This is your bed - shit in it all you like but I'm not joining you."

Franklin's eyes narrowed. "If Xan takes a fall so do you since you're a part of this damn group."

"I'm not an empire native and also don't give a flying rat's ass about the man or his politics -- if anyone wants to make a stink about it I've got the papers to prove I'm just a hired hand, and if they STILL don't like that I've got ways to get out of their hands. If you want to convince one of the others that they need to save their backsides then by all means do so; I won't stand in your way or narc you out. But leave me out of this."

Franklin growled. "You saw 'em -- they aren't going to break ranks."

Windsor shrugged. "Yeah, and? What would've you done if they HAD?"

"Kidnapped the woman, dragged her back to Duvos - I've got my orders to screw this up but nothing says I can't benefit in the process. So long as the job isn't done as ordered and Xan's embarrassed. He stakes his reputation on his plans always going AS planned down to the letter, so-"

"Oh please, THAT'S your back up plan? Original plan or not that would only make Xan look good! You're as dumb as you look, as dumb as I suspected, and my answer is STILL 'no goddamn thank you.' Mind your business and I'll mind mine."

The other simply narrowed his eyes and glared; Windsor gave it another few breaths then turned to leave. He kept his ears trained for any approaching steps (as he half-expected the man to attack him with his back turned) but he made it back to the motel without issue, and after emptying the sand and sweat out of his boots he unclipped his dagger harness and rolled into bed.

Whatever trouble there was in paradise wasn't any of his concern; he'd been hired to help steal an AI and that was that.

Pity about Xan though...man really did have a reputation for getting things done. Whatever methods he used aside Duvos would surely take a hit in the espionage and acquisitions department if they took Xan out of the chain of command. Was rather interesting to hear that they were actually willing to do something about him...Duvos had some cutthroat politics and supposedly a lot of things were overlooked or praised as being ambitious but whoever that commander had been that he offed must have had parents REALLY far up the chain who had the pull to go after him.

At least Franklin's half-assed recruiting attempt had given him a fair head's up that once they'd paid for his services then Windsor should get the hell out of town and lay low. Maybe he'd leave the meat head enough for a single drink as a parting gift -- assuming the man's own tactics didn't leave him dead at the end of all this.

----------------------------------------------

"It's not important right now."

Remington mentally sighed; they'd been trying to get the date of Eli's birthday out of her for five days now and she'd stubbornly insisted each time that they had more pressing matters to attend to. And yes, while technically she was correct, he didn't see any harm in them knowing when to wish her a simple "happy birthday" with the rest of it coming later. It wasn't exactly an argument but whatever you wanted to call it was interrupted by a familiar wobble from his bad knee; he immediately froze -- an impressive feat considering he was partly bent over in a stretching pose, and by shifting his good leg he was able to avoid toppling over onto his head (this time).

Eli grabbed him by the shoulders and helped him straighten up, and when he turned around she was frowning down at his legs. "Stubborn injury, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Been like that for awhile now. I've learned to live with it."

"If we just knew what was wrong I bet Stewart could fix it."

"Really? Even without all the fancy technology?"

She nodded. "Really. I've been trying to get up to speed with Xu about what survived the years and what's been developed since everything fell apart. Kind of makes me wonder if we really NEEDED all that tech back then. Made things easier but at its most basic a lot of surgeries are done in essentially the same way regardless of whether it was a man or machine holding the blade... We had an old saying about reinventing the wheel and while innovation was always pushing for new heights there were a lot of things you could say we had down to an art and couldn't really change. Can't remember the last time I'd read about a new medical advancement...and I was married to a researcher."

With Eli helping he lowered himself into the grass and rubbed gingerly at his knee; every couple of days, on top of any strength training they found the time for, Eli had him working with stretches and light exercises specifically meant to try and help that joint. So far he'd not noticed any changes aside from being constantly sore but at this point he was willing to try just about anything as he didn't relish the idea of living the rest of his life with a leg that was always threatening to suddenly buckle if he moved wrong.

"Still, a lot of things made life easier. Bare minimum," she went on, "I'd love to have at least one functional imaging machine. See everything inside without having to open you up."

"How'd those work?"

"Couldn't begin to tell you, beyond trying to explain how X-rays, radioactive tracers, and magnetic imaging works which, aside from basic facts about them, is well out of my scope of knowledge. Now, if I had Darren, or Peter or Ashley here, any of them could talk themselves blue in the face explaining how any given medical instrument worked. Stewart could explain it too if you're interested."

Peter and Ashley...if memory served those were two of the squad mates they had buried in the graveyard (they'd been keeping a close eye on those graves still) and he certainly knew who Darren was. "I won't bother Stewart with that - he'll have his hands full when the next round of scholars shows up."

With a groan she let her head drop back, staring up into the sky. "Don't remind me. The first group was nosy enough."

"These ones are coming from Vega 5 and ought to be more interested in the technical side of things rather than...well."

She flashed him a smile. "Rather than wanting to study me and how folks in the Old World lived?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I didn't think they were bothering you too much...were they?"

"Not...really? It kind of depends on how you want to quantify it - they didn't ask to meet with me a lot, but when they did they had notebooks full of questions that Stewart's social and technical programming couldn't answer and it'd take me an entire day to get through them."

He frowned. "You could have said something if they were imposing on you too much."

"I could have. But I didn't see a point in it," she sighed. "It was something that needed to be done."

He sat up and looked at her; compared to Arlo or the Flying Pigs he didn't really get a lot of one-on-one time with her outside of these recent stretching sessions but still even he could tell something was a bit...off with her tone. Like she was tired, or sad (and he didn't really need to consider why). "You've got all the time in the world to answer questions."

"Maybe. It just seemed easier to get them out of my hair and get back to-"

"-work?" Remington jutted in. "Doesn't seem like you focus on much else. Is everything all right?"

She blew out a breath that trailed into a buzzing raspberry. "Not you too."

"Me too?"

"You, and Arlo, Asher and Xu - asking if I'm all right or need anything all the time or if someone is bugging me."

"...well, friends do that, don't they?"

"They do, but not every problem or bad mood can be solved by having a friend around."

He bent his good leg so he could rest his arms on his knee, and his chin on his arms, as he gazed up at her thoughtfully. "We just -- it's not meaning to suggest anything beyond just wanting you to know the door's open, you know? I can ask everyone to tone it down but we're just - we care. That's all."

She closed her eyes and, after a moment, slumped her shoulders. "I know, and I get it, and I'm thankful for having friends around ready and willing to support and help. But it's... It's like picking at a scab. Each time I get asked, it's picking - and if you keep picking it never closes or heals, and the scar is a million times worse. And with what they did to Darren's grave I feel like someone took a diamond sander to the scab and ground down to the bone. Just when I thought I was doing better. I talk to Xu, and it helps, but each well-meaning question from everyone else is pulling scabs right now."

"All right. I'll quietly let the others know that you'll come to US if you need something and we should stop asking. But, I do know we do really want to know you, and be your friends, and be there. That's why we wanted to know about your birthday -- heck, if there's any holidays you want to celebrate I know we'll figure that out too."

She rubbed her hands across her face and held them there; when she spoke her voice was muffled but Remington didn't think she sounded too upset. "Birthdays were celebrated only on multiples of 5. I was born on the 15th of the first Spring. I would need to check with Stewart to make sure I've got the years right but I last remember passing my 37th birthday."

Remington nodded slowly, and smiled at her; in his mind, very briefly, he thought 'I'm older than she is' followed immediately by the realization that no, he was not, and no one in the world was older than she was. "All right - I'm sorry if it seemed like I was badgering you on anything but I'm also glad you told me. Do you want me to keep quiet about it?"

"Please. At least until I hit 40."

"It's a deal. How would you celebrate your birthday back then?"

"Gifts, an elaborate dinner. Costume parties were popular. I always ended up with costume parties because New Year's Dawn had just happened, which was a city-wide costume party so you'd always have something on hand you could wear. You'd go door to door singing songs, playing games, giving gifts, dancing in the streets. You'd stay awake as long as you could but it was expected that you'd stay awake from dawn of the last day of the year to dawn of the second day of the new year."

"That sounds an awful lot like celebrating a holiday, and not your own birthday."

She finally dropped her hands away from her face and shrugged at him. "That's what happened if your birthday fell on or close to a national holiday."

Remington went to stand and tested his weight on his bad leg; there were no wobbles, no twinges, no sudden shooting pains. "Sounds like you've had 37 years of getting the short end of the stick, then."

"You learn to live with it. Ready to keep going?"

He didn't protest the sudden change in subject; with a bit more attention and care to how he was moving his body he managed to get through the rest of the exercises without any further trouble, and though he was pretty sore when they were done he didn't mind it too much -- his next patrol would be on horseback so the joint could rest while he rode.

"We'll get there, slowly but surely," Eli said as she walked him to the gate. "Just take it easy for the rest of the day."

"I plan to," he replied with a chuckle. "I was actually just thinking about that." As he latched the gate behind him he could spy Selene heading home - she was just coming out through Portia's gates. "-not to rush off or anything but I better get going. I know Selene is just wanting to pounce over party things."

"Oh I know. She's babbled about your birthday party these last few days. All the more reason for YOU to keep your trap shut."

Remington laughed. "I swear on my honor your secret is safe with me. See you later, Eli."

He hurried off and was able to dodge around Selene with a hurried 'sorry, late for my patrol' and then he was huffing and puffing up the hill toward the Corps building to collect Arrow.

When he got there though he found his saddle was missing. That was odd.

Spacer was there however and that saddle was where it was supposed to be; Remington hurriedly scribbled a note of explanation for Arlo and left it pinned to Spacer's stable stall then saddled him and headed down the road, and wondered how the heck he'd managed to misplace a saddle. Maybe someone had moved it since they were cleaning out the back wall in preparation of replacing a few shelves that were starting to dry rot and his was the only saddle that sat near those particular shelves. Most of what had been sitting on those shelves was currently in a jumbled pile in the corner across from there...maybe he ought to clean a bit of that up when he got back from patrol.

----------------------------------------------

He didn't mind that Remington had borrowed Spacer -- the horse liked the man well enough so Arlo knew there wouldn't be any trouble from the animal (unlike Teddy who typically wouldn't let anyone but Sam ride him).

What he DID mind though was by the time he'd found the note the missing saddle was back in its place, and after checking it over he found that a lot of the stitching had been carefully frayed with a knife so that it was highly likely that if Remington had been IN the saddle, moving quickly, and had made any sudden movements or sudden stops, the straps would have given way and dumped him off the horse. Teddy's saddle had likewise been tampered with but not as badly as Arrow's, and Arlo was both relieved he'd discovered that before Sam went out on a ride as well as extremely anxious for Remington's safe return because he had no reason to believe that Spacer's saddle hadn't also been sabotaged.

It was really beginning to feel like whoever was causing their current problems was trying to spread them as thin as possible, as Arlo's first thought upon discovering the sabotaged saddles was "great, now we have to watch the stables."

But...no. That was doing exactly what their spy and or vandal would want.

He still believed that the Stupid Plan idea of Eli's had merit - in fact, this was probably a result of that, assuming their spy was also their vandal - but it was time for a change in strategy.

---------------------------------------------

"Looks like we'll be up and running within two weeks then."

It had been awhile since they'd ALL been together out at the facility; they were clustered inside the tent, looking over a collection of blueprints and measurements for the security door and signal transmitters. Eli had been shifted off her patrols and onto helping Selene get the rest of the transmitter parts made, along with the towers they'd be mounted on. With Eli's assistance they wouldn't need to bring in another builder for the assembly (though Higgins was producing the metal struts needed for the towers) and that left Merlin and Petra in charge of assembling the power sources (a mix of hydro, wind, and power stones).

Between work on that, and Mint overseeing the project to get the door installed...two weeks. They would need to manage for two weeks, and then they could bring their full attention down on catching their spy. It was nice to know that the metaphorical light at the end of the tunnel wasn't something that was going to run them over.

"Do we have anything new to discuss?" Mali asked, pausing to look around at each of them in turn.

Beside him Arlo cleared his throat and Asher turned to look at him as he leaned forward to brace his hands on the little table.

"Yes, actually. Someone sabotaged all of our saddles yesterday. I think it's time we get a bit more aggressive - try to draw this person out into the open."

"I agree, because whoever this is uh-" Sam stopped abruptly, glancing briefly at Eli, before sighing. "-we had some graffiti to clean up early this morning."

"About me, I'm guessing," Eli said.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Nothing too nasty but basically urging you to leave town, claiming you don't belong here, that sort of thing."

"What was the graffiti made with? Do we have any record of anyone buying paint of that color?" Remington asked.

This time she shook her head. "It was done with charcoal - really easy to clean up, thankfully, but it doesn't point to where it came from or who had it. And of course no one saw anyone doing it AND it was all at different heights so we can't really narrow anything down."

Arlo huffed. "Of course. Regardless -- I worry that letting this stretch on any further will only result in someone getting seriously hurt. It's clear our initial plan has definitely made this person more bold - just not bold enough to come close to us like they did at the tent. I think this may be the best we're going to get so we need to come up with our plan to catch them."

Remington nodded, running a hand through his hair briefly; it was hot and stuffy in this tent with all of them inside it and Asher felt his scalp prickle in the heat just watching how Remington's hair clumped together in damp strands. "We've set a trap once before for that rogue knight - we can always do it again."

"Well, maybe," Sam said, drawing out the last word. "The thing is, THAT time we definitely knew what the knight was after. There's a lot more down in the facility besides Stewart and if we set a trap it needs to be baited with whatever it is they're hoping to steal."

"It also needs to look natural - we got away with the last trap since it was in a ruins that were already falling apart. This facility is much more preserved and it's going to be harder to set something up without it looking off," Mali added.

In the brief pause that followed that exchange Asher sat up a bit straighter. "Well, it's common knowledge that we're expanding the clinic in town soon. We could use that as our staging area instead since it's going to be pretty obvious that we're moving Stewart's station there."

Arlo grimaced. "Yes, but that would be dangerous and tricky. Setting this trap would be dependent on no one else being at risk of injury -- we know this person is armed, after all, and we can't control when someone might try to trip the trap. I don't want to put Dr. Xu or Harrison, or anyone else who might be at the clinic, in danger."

Eli lightly elbowed Asher in the ribs. "AND I don't want Stewart's tech in danger of being damaged either -- if it breaks that's it because while I MIGHT know how to fix it it won't be as simple as heading down to the shop to pick up the right parts."

"Yeah...you're right about that part," Asher muttered. "So it would have to be replicas, and we'd be guessing at what the spy would go for. Do you think they'd actually know what to grab if we baited them with the server stuff or basic computer pieces?"

Eli raised an eyebrow. "Assuming they're not expecting that again? I could make something that looks genuine, important, and expensive."

Remington let out a thoughtful noise, leaning toward Eli. "How complicated would it be to do that? I don't even know what...whatever we're talking about looks like."

"Not...TOO complicated, I don't think? I -- hang on, wait. Before we get too far ahead of ourselves I need to know what's common knowledge about tech these days. Exactly how complicated and fancy I'd need to make the replicas would kind of depend on what people know or think these things look like."

They all fell silent; Asher glanced about and could see lots of thoughtful faces - he was hopeful that that meant someone had an answer, because he definitely didn't. Technology wasn't something he studied or thought about much and he'd consider himself the last person anyone ought to be asking about Old World stuff.

Finally, Mali tipped her head back to look up toward the tent's ceiling. "There's some common knowledge about Old World components but it's mostly regarding the things we commonly find. Everyone knows what chipsets are, circuit boards, monitors and displays, and odds and ends that get lumped together just as 'old parts.' We also have access to old engines of varying types that we've successfully re-created ourselves so we no longer need to rely on digging them up. In this case... I'm not sure I have the answer. But I know who would."

There was a brief pause then Arlo nodded. "Ah, right. The scholars from Vega 5 will be here soon."

Mali nodded. "Vega 5 is full of people who have studied Living AIs, and they and Atara both have large libraries full of blueprints and books on Old World tech along with everything their museums have catalogued on display. They'd be the ones to ask about what they would consider common knowledge."

"But would they know what's common knowledge in Duvos though?" Eli asked.

Mali shrugged. "It's possible. I'm not privy to everything that's been discovered through the Alliance's information networks -- the Flying Pigs are an adventuring guild who sometimes get tapped to help provide law enforcement. I know more than most but ultimately we're not a military group so we're only told what we need to know for the tasks we're given." Eli scratched at her cheek; Asher noted that, due to the heat and sweat, the simple gesture left a pair of angry red marks across her skin "Right... Maybe I should go talk to Gale when we're done here -- er, assuming you aren't putting me back on patrol duty?" she added after a moment, looking to Arlo.

"No, go talk to Gale - this is important. Afterward get back to those signal transmitters," came Arlo's answer.

"Understood."

"You sure you don't need an extra pair of hands with those things?" Asher asked then, looking between Arlo and Eli. "At the very least I can tote and carry."

Arlo considered that for a moment, then glanced to Eli. "Your thoughts?"

She huffed out a breath. "Carrying, sure. But it'd just slow us down if we have to explain how to assemble. We DO need someone to start bundling the tower pieces and that's also something you could do without much instruction needed - get the finished bits from Higgins, ensure we've got everything, sort it out into sets for assembly. Basic stuff."

"All right -- go ahead and help them with the heavy lifting and getting the tower parts ready to transport. Eli, once you've talked to Gale come find me in the Corps building -- Mali, if you'd like to join me for that feel free." Mali and Eli both nodded, and Arlo blew out a breath. "I think that covers everything-"

"Hey- HEY!"

They all jumped to their feet at the shout from beyond the tent; Asher was still getting to know a lot of the townsfolk but he thought that sounded a lot like--

As he was closest to the tent flap Asher stuck his head out to see Albert sprinting toward them; when the man saw him he started waving his hands and his sprint was slowing. Asher in turn hurried out of the tent and began running toward him, faintly aware of the sound of several pairs of feet following along behind him, and about halfway to the man Albert came to a stop entirely and doubled over with his hands on his knees, panting harshly.

"What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Portia...ruins...cave in..." Albert was gasping as Asher came skidding to a stop beside him. "One under...church..."

"Oh hell," Asher muttered. He spun around as Eli, Arlo, Mali, and Remington reached them. "Cave in at the ruins under the church."

"Was anyone hurt?" Arlo asked immediately. Albert could only nod as he struggled to catch his breath and Arlo broke into a run again while calling orders over his shoulder. "Asher - take Albert to the tent to catch his breath. Remington and Eli with me."

The others went running off and Asher put a hand on Albert's shoulder. "Sit down here in the grass, mind the marshy spots - we'll take a minute here and then we'll walk to the tent, all right?"

"I'll ask Sam to stay out here with Adam," Mali interrupted. "After that I will join Arlo and the others in town - stay with Albert until he's recovered then escort him back to town."

"Got it," Asher replied. Mali immediately ran back the way she'd come and Asher turned his attention back to Albert. "Deep breaths, man, it'll be all right. Do you know what happened?"

Albert took several more breaths; he seemed to be breathing a bit easier. After an especially deep breath he lifted his head to look up at Asher. "Not...a clue. Heard a...loud noise. Couple folks...out of the ruins, shouting...about a cave in. Gale already there...told me to come get you all. I was closest."

Damn it... They should have had this meeting at the Corps building, not all the way out here; even as he thought that he knew that was very unfair as all their patrol routes for this morning had had them all out this way and it was quickest and easiest to gather here, but... Well, honestly it could have been worse timing. At least out here they'd all been in one place but had this happened at any other time of day or any other day in general they would've been spread across the countryside with only two of them in town.

"Think you can make it to the tent? We'll get some water in you, can sit a bit, then we'll head back to Portia."

Albert nodded and straightened and the two of them began to (slowly) walk toward the Pigs's tent. Mali was already heading back toward them and they exchanged nods as she passed and kept on going.

"What kind of loud noise did you hear?"

"Just a loud boom and a rumbling."

Asher frowned - a loud boom? "Like...a KABOOM-kind of boom? Like something exploded?"

"I couldn't tell you. It was more - more of a sound that sort of hit you in the chest, more than in the ears, and one you could feel through your feet. Our building is closest to those ruins so it's no wonder that we heard something."

"We? You and Gust I'm guessing?"

Albert nodded. "I went to the ruins, and Gust went for Gale. And then Gale told me to run out here."

"How many came out of those ruins?"

"Um - I saw three folks. Covered in dust, one of them was bloodied. They were all shaken up and just shouting 'cave in cave in' over and over."

Asher went quiet, chewing on his lower lip. He wanted to simply believe that the ruins had partially collapsed but something nagged at him over it; the Civil Corps and the Flying Pigs both conducted regular inspections of all ruins across the Alliance of Free Cities to make sure they remained safe for public use. There's NO WAY they would've missed a structural weakness that was so dangerous as to cause a cave in...someone on the inside had to have caused this. A careless digger, or...

The saddles might have just been the first attempt to send a message.

---------------------------------------------

Four injured, one dead. All in all, considering there had been eight people inside the ruins at the time of the collapse, it could have been much worse.

Still. It was slightly guilt-inducing to feel relieved that ONLY one person had been killed -- no one was sure where she'd come from but they'd matched her description to the list of Happy Apartment hotel-based rentals so they had a name but no way to contact any next of kin, nor did they know if this Kara person had any sort of surname at all either. It would make for a somewhat plain headstone but at least they had the first name.

Sam, along with Mali and Higgins, had worked quickly to get a makeshift door in place and the rest of the entryway to the ruins boarded up; tomorrow Dana would be traveling to Portia to help Mali investigate what had caused the collapse. Sam had wanted to go in with them as well but she'd gotten a resounding "no" from Arlo, Mali, and Gale - all at the same time, no less. She supposed that made sense as she wasn't a miner or builder or anyone who would know anything about structural integrity (or whatever Mali had called it), and the fewer people at risk inside for a follow up collapse, the better.

As she walked up the hill toward the Corps building it was hard to miss the silence in this half of town; Ack hadn't been at his usual spot in the plaza, there weren't any tourists or townsfolk walking about. Even the Round Table had seemed a bit quiet when she'd passed by moments ago.

Portia had certainly had a streak of bad luck lately... The pessimistic side of her wondered how the spy would find a way to take advantage of the chaos.

As she crested the hill she spotted a man leaning against the railing of the stairs that led down to the central plaza; he had his back to her but she recognized the coat he had on (even in this heat).

"Bob? I thought you would've moved on by now," she called out.

The man jumped and spun around, stumbling a bit as he boot caught on an upraised stone. "Huh! Huh? Well. Yeah, maybe. Thought I should. Been tired lately."

Sam nodded and walked over, crossing her arms and eying the man. He was a harmless drifter and she didn't suspect anything of him but he was also somewhat regular - he arrived in the spring, left at the start of the summer season, and then came back mid-autumn. "Something wrong?"

"Not really. Just got a feeling. Road might not be safe."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I remember someone telling me there was a thief around. I don't carry valuables. But that's not all someone could take."

"Bob... Do you think someone's trying to harm you in some way?" she asked.

The man fidgeted a bit. "Not me. I think? But I've seen some ghosts. Footprints out of thin air. I don't want to share a road with it."

Sam stared at him. "...where did you see these footprints? Can you show me?"

Bob shook his head. "Not now - been too long. Saw them on the beach while I was stargazing. Walking west. Too close to where I'd pass going back south."

"How long ago was this?"

The man shrugged, then scratched at his head. "Not sure. I don't do so well with time anymore."

"But it was recent, at least?"

He nodded; Sam mulled that over -- it sounded like Bob had spotted their spy out in the wild. "How about we walk together to where you saw the footprints and you tell me whatever you can remember about when you saw them and what you were doing?"

He nodded again and walked with her back down the hill. As they passed under the gates she wondered if she shouldn't call for back up but... Well. She could think of a lot of reasons to do so, and the reasons not to didn't seem as convincing so as they continued down the road she gestured for them to detour toward Selene's house. Eli ought to be in the factory helping assemble, and Asher ought to be here too. Surely one of them could shift over to walk out to...wherever, with her and Bob.

---------------------------------------------------------

That she hadn't known Kara made it easier to look genuine when it came to keeping her expression appropriately sad-looking as they buried the woman; it was a small ceremony with a smattering of Portians present, along with the full force of the Civil Corps -- being as she didn't see them she assumed that the Flying Pigs members were out at the facility, as usual. They seemed to never, ever leave the place unguarded and, as she'd discovered the other evening while doing some recon, there was a gigantic build project of some kind being carried out at the facility's entrance now -- if she had to guess it looked like some sort of covering, or door.

That likely meant they were really doubling down on the security out there, and while what she was after was being moved out of the facility she was beginning to get worried -- if they sealed that place up tight that would free the Pigs up to directly watch the construction of the clinic addition and the installation of the All Source AI.

And that would make Lily's job even harder while now also being down a team member.

After the funeral it was announced that the ruins would be closed for the time being to conduct an investigation into the cause of the collapse; that at least didn't effect any of them remaining but it ALSO carried the high risk of bringing in more outside people -- more Pigs, more nosy law-types, the possibilities were starting to pile up.

Days ago she'd been bitching about how long it was taking them to start construction; she'd seen buildings put up in a matter of days in Duvos -- how hard could one addition to an already existing building be?

Now... As much as she didn't want to disappoint Xan, they might indeed have to change their plans to have any chance of this heist succeeding.

---------------------------------------------------

They always put out the paper on the first of every month. Always. Without fail -- even if it meant that she and Erwa stayed up all night fixing issues with their printing press machine or working to get wording on an article juuuuust right.

The first of the month was still six days away but Gale had asked for a special edition to be produced. It was the hardest thing Mei had ever had to write: all this...all this alarming detail on a vandal, a thief attempting to break into the medical facility in the marsh, and now the devastating discovery that the cave in two days ago had been purposely caused by tiny explosive charges. It was such awful news that sometimes Mei found her hand shaking as she scribbled notes and drew arrows or crossed out paragraphs as she tried to get things into order both chronologically and also in a manner that flowed well for reading.

There were still a few hours to go before they needed to start printing and there was just one thing Mei wanted to get done before then but then again... It wasn't a nice subject and she didn't want to offend anyone - especially not the person she'd like to interview regarding all this.

But. She wouldn't know if she'd be offending unless she asked.

Selene's workshop was a familiar sight - Mei had been out here a lot over the years, both before and after large city projects were announced and completed with the builder's help - so she knew better than to knock on the house's door and instead marched up to to the factory door and really gave it a good pounding. After a few minutes the door opened and an oil-smudged Selene was framed in the doorway, and once it registered who was there Mei was offered a big, bright smile.

"Hey! What're you doing out here?"

"Hello Selene! I was wondering if Eli was still here?"

Selene nodded and stepped aside, gesturing with one hand toward a makeshift workbench set up perpendicular to her usual one; lined up shoulder to shoulder was Eli, Petra, and Merlin, all hurriedly working to assemble bits and doodads that Mei guessed was all meant to fit into a much bigger contraption of some kind.

It was unusually quiet in here today as well; only a handful of the machines were running -- that must mean whatever Selene was working on either didn't need a lot of pieces or maybe it was almost complete. She stepped inside and out of the way so Selene could close the door and then noted that the latest member of the Civil Corps, Asher, was sorting large metal struts and rods into organized piles against the far wall, moving about in short bursts and then checking off things on a clipboard he had hanging off his belt.

"I'm not interrupting something I shouldn't, am I?"

"Not really - we can spare a pair of hands for a bit." Selene led Mei over toward Eli and the Research Center gals. "Mei's wanting to talk to you, Eli."

The woman looked up at them (though Mei noticed her hands didn't stop what they were doing - it was kind of impressive to see her keep working without her looking at the pieces) and silently lifted an eyebrow.

"Oh - um, yes. I was wondering if you could spare some time to give a few statements for the article we're writing for the paper?" Mei asked into the pause.

"Uh..." Eli drew the word out, returning her attention to what her hands were doing. It seemed immediately clear that whatever her answer was going to be it would have to wait until she'd finished off this piece of...whatever it was; Mei waited patiently, and watched with a bit of curiosity, until Eli had slotted all the pieces together and tightened down all the screws. "-all right, sure. Let's step outside for some air."

Mei led the way outside and then followed as Eli took an abrupt turn to the western side of the factory -- there was a cluster of stools out here and they both settled on one, and Mei hurried to pull out her little notebook.

"All right - of course, if you find any of my questions upsetting it's perfectly fine not to answer. I don't mind at all!"

Eli nodded. "Ask away."

"How would you say the situation is currently going?"

"Which one are you referring to?"

"Let's start with the vandal. It couldn't have been easy to see the gravestone damaged like that."

For several breaths Eli didn't answer. Mei sat patiently with her pen poised over the blank sheet of notebook paper with her free hand pinning the loose edge down; this side of the factory was currently in the shade and the breeze was a bit strong as the wind rushed along the flat brick. It was a nice place to sit but if she wasn't careful her notes would get scattered across the yard since not all the pages were still bound to the wire spiral.

"It wasn't, no. It's clear whoever did it wanted their message heard, and intended it to hurt. It did, I won't lie, but also, it really shows just how much of a coward this person is since they didn't confront me directly. Same with all the other instances of graffiti lately -- they're not brave enough to say anything to my face. In that context, it's a bit comical."

It took about the same amount of time for Mei to write that down as it had for Eli to say it. "-and do you have any guesses as to who this person is?" Eli shook her head but didn't elaborate; Mei added a little mark after the quote to remind herself of the answer. "How about things out at the medical facility? Has there been any further attempts to break in?"

"No, and soon there won't be any chances of a break in either. We're installing a security door and will work toward preserving the facility as it is."

Mei had heard about the door - she wondered what it would look like when it was done. "And do you have any opinion on the expansion at the clinic, since it's rumored that you'll be incorporating an All Source AI into the building?"

Eli blinked at her. "Incorp- uh, maybe that definition has changed in three hundred years but we're not incorporating him into anything. He'll be installed and be there to teach and treat, but he won't be in charge of or able to run the clinic by himself. For one, there's no other computers or AIs for him to oversee, and secondly the building will be just a building without any tech for him to monitor either."

"Do you have any worries about how having an All Source AI teaching humans would be seen in the greater world?"

With a loud sigh Eli leaned back against the brick wall. "I do, sort of. I worry that zealots in your Church won't be able to look past him being a part of the Old World and try to destroy him, in which case all the knowledge he holds would be lost along with him. Hand in hand with that I also worry about what he'd be teaching and to whom."

Mei looked up from her notes in surprise. "You think he'd teach something bad? Or bad people?"

"Not exactly "bad" in either case, its more I worry people will try to somehow hoard the knowledge -- even hypothetical enemies deserve the right to live disease and injury free. I wouldn't really say there's right and wrong people to teach, but I do think there will be people out there who think they're the only ones who have a right to the knowledge, or who think some knowledge is fine but some of it should be scrubbed from history. We even had a bit of a problem with myths and misinformation regarding certain diseases in my time and that was with an entire world's worth of knowledge available to anyone at any time."

Mei slowly nodded at that; it reminded her of an article she'd written a few years ago about the push-back of remedies coming from a doctor in Vega 5. "So, even if people don't want to keep the knowledge to themselves there's also a question of whether some would accept it, at all."

"Exactly. I imagine there's going to be a lot of entrenched doctors scattered across the world who think their way is best and will be unwilling to change. It'll be a bit messy in the upcoming years but I hope the overall health and life expectancy of the world goes up as the knowledge spreads -- and hopefully it'll be fairly uniform across the world, not just in small clusters due to hoarding or refusal to adapt."

With her hand cramping from how quickly she was trying to write Mei managed to get all that down in her notes; she'd gotten a little carried away as she'd only wanted a few lines to quote but this could potentially be an article all on its own. She was just about to shut the book when a thought occurred to her. "Oh! Right - there's been a lot of questions about the metal towers that were put up recently. Are you able to explain what those are for?"

"You guys use telegraphs for long distance communication, right?"

Mei nodded. "For messages that can't wait for couriers."

"Right. So, those towers are the first of many that will hold...how to put it in simple terms... Think of a telegraph that doesn't need wires, is more reliable and secure, and also can just send words instead of having to tap a little button and have someone translate at the other end. We're trying it out here in Portia and maybe in the future, assuming it works and can be reliably maintained, we could extend it across the continent."

"What, really?" Mei asked, eyes widening. "That's huge!"

Eli was giving her an amused look and Mei realized her jaw was hanging open; she scrawled an almost unreadable note about the towers underneath the rest of it. "Ah, um - uh, so, when will THAT project be completed?"

"It'll take some time. Getting everything installed is the easy part. Getting it all to work correctly will be hard."

"So...no...expected...completion date yet?" Mei asked as she wrote, glancing up from the writing to Eli, then underlining the 'no' as Eli shook her head. "That's very exciting... Will it be something anyone could use? Will it cost a lot?"

Eli paused, then offered a half shrug. "Well, I guess that first answer is yes and no. In terms of complexity anyone will be able to use it because it's not difficult at all to learn, but initially there's going to be a problem with getting parts to both maintain and expand it so there won't be a lot of the system in place for widespread use to start. I don't have any idea on cost just yet - we're using a combination of wind, water, and power stones to start off with. I'm relatively certain I know how much energy this will draw but won't know exact numbers until its been up and running for awhile."

"And...you're ok with this technology spreading?"

Eli snorted loudly. "I am," she replied, placing heavy emphasis on 'I.' "No idea about the rest of the world."

Mei hummed to herself as she put down a few more notes. "This could be an article by itself... All right. That was everything I had in mind for this piece. Unless you'd like to add anything?"

"Not in particular."

"Well, thank you!" Mei said, smiling and shoving a hand toward her. Eli shook it with a bit of a smile and then stood. "I'll get this over to the paper and you'll be seeing it in print soon!"

Eli didn't reply beyond nodding, then led the way around the building where she went back inside while Mei headed toward the gate; she felt a bit lightheaded -- like she was floating across the grass. The prospect of a better, more secure communications system that was instantaneous made her giddy; imagine how much faster information could travel. Imagine how quickly a message back home could reach family...how much easier it would be to stay in touch with the Atara Post about her progress with the Portia Times.

There were dozens of ways she could instantly imagine her life getting easier if this communication thing worked, and that was just for HER - she couldn't even clearly conceive all the ways the entire Alliance could make use of such a thing.

As she walked through the doors into the news building she managed to pull her thoughts away from the communications scoop and set herself back on track regarding the special edition Gale had asked them to put out; it didn't appear Erwa was here but that was ok - Mei could work on a rough draft and get his opinion later when he came back.

Eli hadn't been the only one she'd interviewed today so the first order of business was to quickly reread her notes and decide where to insert Eli's bit into the order she'd tentatively decided on earlier; this article needed to be a direct and firm read, with a logical flow to the information, but it couldn't have a tone to it that would cause undue alarm. People had a right to know that the cave in was actually a murder, but how to word it so that it wouldn't cause a panic in town...

And also, the more she thought about it, the less sense it made to include anything referencing the communications project. Prior to talking to Eli she'd assumed the towers were related to the security project out at the facility but now it seemed they were unrelated to each other, and...well, if they had a vandal snooping around it wouldn't do to draw attention to something this valuable.

...yeah. It made more sense to relegate the communications towers to its own separate article, AFTER the vandal (or murderer? Or both?) had been taken care of. At the very least that cut out a good amount of information she would've had to figure out how to fit onto the front page with everything else.

---------------------------------------------------

Windsor had "claimed" a small area of the Peach Plaza for his impromptu performances; a decent number of people expected him to be there in the mornings and later at night, showing off his juggling and throwing skills (a few had even donated some small straw targets for him to use so he'd changed up his routine a bit). It may have just been a cover job but it was bringing in decent money; it was a nice little perk to the whole thing but if they didn't get moving on this theft job soon he wouldn't be able to keep playing off the "too poor to go back home" angle of his cover story.

The atmosphere in Portia seemed a bit...strange this morning. There weren't nearly as many people moving about in the central plaza as usual, and as he went plodding up the hill passed the shops he was a bit alarmed to see a small crowd of people that WEREN'T his usual audience huddled roughly in his spot near the fountain. As he drew closer he could see all of them clutching papers in hand, and there was a dull roar of chatter among them. In their midst was a squat, hairy man in an orange vest and hat, and a blonde woman wearing a blue and white pointy hat; they appeared to be handing out whatever the paper was, and when he finally got close enough to the gathering he saw it was a thin newspaper with "SPECIAL EDITION" printed in big, bold letters across its top with "Portia Times" printed in slightly smaller text beneath it.

Through a gap in the crowd the hat-wearing blonde noticed him, and carefully wound her way through the group toward him with one of the papers in hand, pushed out toward him.

"Good morning, sir - would you like to read this special release of the Portia Times? This copy is free, paid for by Portia's government."

"Uh...sure. What seems to be the ruckus?" he replied, taking the paper and skimming the-

...oh. Oh boy. Well, that wasn't good.

#Lost in Time #lit #Lost in Time - ch 20 #Arlo #Mali #Remington #Sam #Flying Pigs #Albert #Mei #My Time at Portia

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jafndaegur · 3 years

Text

Noise of Rain | Chapter Nine

Strange Complex Thing of My Love

Sesskag

°-.*°-.*°-.*°-.*°-.*°-.*°-.*°-.*°-.*°-.*°-.*°-.*°-.*°-.*°

Kikyo stared at the pale cloth that covered the body. Contour of face and chest, she knew them so well. Their hut seemed so quiet without the carry of his voice and she loathed the fact that it was absent—that silent lay as heavy and stagnant as her pregnancy. Every moment she waited for him to stir, his body to creak and groan back to life. But it never did.

Coming off the battlefield had been surreal, like just waking and finding herself on the teetering edge or both sleep and life.

After the body had hit the ground, Kagome’s Ghost General—that was what Kikyo had dubbed the accompanying dead boy—had fled, Kagome slung over his shoulder. They had disappeared into the mountain. Kikyo at that point had been tempted to leave the corpse there, face first in the muck and gore as it had been dropped. But something tugged at her chest and she found herself wandering towards it. Bow and arrows had been dropped. The horse she then guided with the reins towards the mangled body.

Golden eyes gazed unwavering and lifeless out at the massacre.

It took a lot of maneuvering, and she almost gave up, pain in her belly telling her to just leave it. But something refused to let her hands stay. So after what felt like hours, she managed to cross it over the back of her mount.

Now here they were, four days passed, and Kikyo had yet to burn the corpse. It was fine, she'd cremate it.

Swallowing thickly, the thatch flap to the hut fluttered and she forced herself to regain her composure. A messenger peered in.

"Lady Kikyo, the first sacrifice was burned and his ashes are properly sealed for your use. The second sacrifice is restrained and sedated."

She nodded and waved them off.

Before she could visit the sacrifices, she’d assigned a meeting for herself and the shogun. As much as she despised having to put on an act and beg for aid—again—this next move was necessary. Perhaps initially she’d not expected the need to attack Kagome directly. The girl who housed Kikyo’s soul was a minor inconvenience at best. But the body beneath the sheet haunted her, and the idea of putting the soul to rest with Kagome’s blood sewn through the ground dearly eased her conscience. There was a rabid and ravenous ire that was only sated at the thought of the Edo Matriarch’s end. All things would be righted at that moment, the world would have been corrected. Inuyasha’s death before she could cause it herself would be avenged. Her soul would be properly contained within her own body again. And all of this demonic cultivation, which seemed to unite the demons and hanyou and the humans alike, would finally disappear with the quashing of the Burial Mounds village.

The boundaries set by the world which once separated the three would finally be restored.

She pulled herself away from the hut and entered the frozen and cold world. Snow piled in drifts and mounds, and hoofprints lined every which way—clear paths long forgotten.

A warm outer layer made of thatching was left hanging on the outside of her hut. She drew it over her shoulders and shivered when she realized the lingering scent of Inuyasha remained on it. The desire to pitch it was overwhelming and nauseating, but it was too cold to forgo the extra winter protection.

Carrying a brazier in both his hands, the village messenger from earlier waddled over to Kikyo. Wrapping some of the less-hot coals in a thick cloth, she pocketed some of them, enjoying the warming sensation they left against her skin through the material of her garb. With one more breath of relief, she took the brazier and returned into the hut just long enough to dump the coals and embers of fire onto the corpse’s cloth.

Almost immediately the white sheet caught flame.

She hurried from the hut back outside. “I will be staying with the shogun for at least the next day. When I return, I expect the hut Kaede had stayed in to be cleared and prepared for me.”

“Yes Lady Kikyo,” the messenger bowed respectfully.

Again she hated clambering onto her horse with the swell of her belly. But now more than ever did she need this child. It would help emass the Edo Matriarch’s downfall.

“Ensure the fire does not catch the rest of the village,” Kikyo commanded, nose wrinkling when she caught the distinct stench of burning rot.

The messenger assured her he would keep watch.

Riding to the shogun’s stronghold did not take long. Or maybe it did. Everything felt automatic, as if she were merely doing things from muscle memory. To her the scenery faded and appeared in a blink, only existing in a blur of emerald and opal watercolor until they arrived at the red gates that signalled the fort.

Gatekeepers called her arrival and she was admitted in.

Her audience with the shogun was immediate, and they saw her in seemingly before she could shake the snow and sleet from her outer layer. The meeting hall was warm, lit by sconces and a central fire. She made her way over to the lord her watched her with intrigue.

“You are the Shikon Miko.” It wasn’t a question, just a simple fact.

Kikyo inclined her head and slowly knelt before him, keeping her back rigid despite the pain that pulled at her lower spine. Gritting her teeth, she kept her eyes trained on him—intent evaluate his intentions. He seemed more curious than anything, and that made her scoff. A boy at heart it seemed. Fine, boys were emotional and she could use that to her advantage.

“I’m here to seek your assistance,” Kikyo said. “I’d sought a weaker militia and failed to take down the Burial Mounds or the Edo Matriarch. I need help.”

His posture shifted and his eyes widened with his gaze. “You wish to destroy the Edo Matriarch? That’s madness. Anyone across the state would know that she is not something to be trifled with. Rumor and tell have risen very quickly in the wake of her nefarious reputation.”

“Exactly why we must work together,” making a show of it, Kiko balled her fists and dipped her head downwards. “That demonic cultivator killed the father of my child. I want things righted.”

There was a moment of silence, and as tempted as it was to see the warring expressions wage on the man’s face, she knew to remain still and demure. He had to believe her pain. He didn’t know.

He couldn’t know the pain of being separated from half of your soul.

His voice shook a bit, as if outraged. “The partner of the Shikon Miko must have been a great man indeed. Such a crime should not have happened against such an esteemed person like yourself. We will see these wrongs corrected.”

Kikyo had to force her lips not to upturn as she gave a delicate bow.

---

The wind blowing snowflakes and ice into the flare of his bangs surprised him.

When Sesshomaru landed on the border of the Western lands, he found he couldn’t recollect if snow had permeated the grounds. Time flowed differently for him, and probably more akin to not at all, it seemed like just yesterday he’d delivered lotus pods to the miko for her growing village. Whom had been the main reason for his departure.

Traveling to the mainland had been arduous and taxing, not that someone such as himself would quiver at the journey. But it had taken more time than he’d preferred investigating.

On the mainland, there were more people aware of cultivation. He’d been hoping to find out more about the cultivators who relied on resentful energy rather than qi. Much to his disdain, the few records he found were neither helpful—and the few people who did have information did not carry much.

“Most demonic cultivators are quelled and their disciples diminished before they can spread,” one weary passerby had hissed. “I’d cut ties with anyone like that if I were you.”

The information from his trip had been dry and useless. Either being non-pertinent or things he’d discovered from his own observations. Only one sure-fire thing had been confirmed.

If Kagome did not cease her practices, the resentful energy being stored in both the Phoenix Amulet and drawn-in whenever she used Kangaimuryo, her mental state and her physicality would continue to deteriorate until there was nothing left of her. The unorthodox path did not leave its users unscathed.

He turned his direction towards the mountains that housed the Burial Mounds. Nostrils flared. Teeth clenched. Jaw pulled taut. Ill boding pulled at every direction of his instincts and something told him that if he did not fight now—it would be too late to even flee. Snarling and clenching sharp claws into the palms of his hands, Sesshomaru began his return trek towards Kagome.

The scent of blood loomed faint and stale on the wind.

#sesskag #sesshomaru #inuyasha #sesshoumaru x kagome #au: mo dao zu shi #we're finally getting to the thick of it pt1

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remedialpotions · 4 years

Text

A Family Affair

ao3

“Mum,” said Bill, frowning at the scroll of parchment before him, “this is way too many people.”

“We’ll manage,” replied Mum as she inked yet another name onto the list. “Besides, you know how Aunt Muriel gets. If we leave anyone off the list, we’ll be hearing about it for years-“

“I know, I know, but come on.” Bill placed a finger next to one of the names, careful not to smudge it. “Thomas Prewett? Have I ever even met him?”

“Don’t worry about him, he’s that second cousin of mine-“

“Second cousin?!” Bill repeated. “Why are your second cousins invited to my wedding?”

“It’s what’s polite,” stated Mum in that tone she always took when she wanted him to stop arguing. “But you don’t have to worry about him, he’s the one who’s an accountant now, he’s not going to come.”

“Then why bother?”

“I would think you’d want your family there.”

Bill slouched down, swinging one leg up to prop his foot on the seat of a chair opposite him. He had promised Fleur that he would take on more of these wedding-related negotiations - and really he was happy to do it, if it made her happy - but they were sapping his strength.

“I do,” he said evenly. “But that means my actual family, not second cousins of yours that I’ve never met.”

“I’m sure they all came to see you when you were born-“

“Oh, well.” Bill couldn’t stop himself rolling his eyes. “That changes everything.”

Mum’s lips tightened together. “I just think it would be nice - Fleur’s list doesn’t have many people on it-“

“Right, because her family are all in France-“ Bill broke off, shaking his head. “We just hoped we could keep the wedding a bit smaller, that’s all. Less people you’ll have to cook for-“

Her hand swatted the back of his. “Don’t be silly, it isn’t a problem at all. Now, here.” She placed a stack of cream-colored envelopes and a bottle of shimmering green ink in front of him. The fancy ink - the special occasion ink. “Why don’t we start addressing the ones we know are going out? We can quibble over second cousins later.”

“All right,” Bill conceded as he reached for a quill. “Have you got addresses?”

Another scroll of parchment was unfurled in front of him. Bill leaned forward to read the name at the top and promptly, to his mum’s chagrin, burst out laughing.

“Charlie?!” he exclaimed. “What am I sending an invitation to Charlie for? He’s my best man, I think he’s aware of the wedding.”

“It’s what’s proper,” said Mum, picking up her own quill. “But if you’re going to put up a fuss, then that’s fine. You can start with - with Percy.”

And he didn’t miss the way her voice went brittle as she spoke his name, like all the air had left her lungs. The air left the room, certainly; any lingering laughter died on Bill’s lips.

“Percy,” he said slowly. “You’re joking.”

Silence fell as Mum tucked an invitation carefully into an envelope, eyes fixed on her work. “He’s your brother.”

Bill let out a sharp breath through his nose.

Yes. Strictly speaking, he and Percy had the same parents, which made them brothers. But Bill also thought that any proper brother of his wouldn’t have spoken to Dad the way Percy had, or made Mum cry for an entire summer. He wouldn’t have shown up - on Christmas, of all days - as some sort of minion for the Ministry.

“He isn’t going to come,” said Bill gently as his mother began inscribing Xenophilius Lovegood’s name onto an envelope, her jaw stubbornly set.

“You don’t know that.”

“I…” Bill sighed again. “I do know that, Mum. Even if we - even if you invite him, he’s not going to come.”

“It’s your wedding, dear,” she said, setting the envelope aside. “You said you wanted your family to be there.”

“Right, but…” Bill paused, but Mum still wasn’t looking at him. “I don’t want him there.”

Bill had not imagined that he might care this much about the guest list - though he was quickly learning that the wedding was about everyone but him and Fleur - but the notion was leaving him as swiftly as it had come. He could not have cared less if Thomas Prewett showed up with his Muggle calculator, or if the party was so vast and packed with quasi-strangers that it spilled out of the tent and stretched all the way to Exeter.

But Percy. Percy was different.

His mum’s second cousins had never mattered to him. He had not taught them to ride a broom, or helped them with maths homework at the kitchen table, or gotten them drunk for the first time on the family trip to Egypt. They had not made his fists tremble with rage and frustration, or made his stomach flip from the very thought of them. To Bill, they were inconsequential. They did not matter.

But Percy mattered. And so Bill could not have him there. Not like this.

“Now you listen here,” said Mum, leaning toward him, her quaking voice low and dangerous. “Your father and I are hosting this wedding, and we’ll decide who is or isn’t welcome in our home. Percy is your brother, and this is a family event, and he is our family. Do you understand?”

She stood so suddenly that it jostled the table, causing the parchment to roll back into itself, and started toward the stairs.

“Mum,” Bill called after her, desperate for her to see reason. “Mum, just listen-“

A door slammed shut, then, and silence fell.

Bill slumped forward, pinching the bridge of his nose, and contented himself with the thought that Fleur probably wouldn’t have fared any better.

•••

London was hot. The whole south of England was hot - Percy was not unaccustomed to this - but at least in Devon, there had been fresh air, space and room to breathe. In London, the skyscrapers seemed to trap everything in so that the city itself became stuffy, like a locked room with no windows. The heat and humidity just grew and built upon itself until it became unbearable.

Or maybe he just missed home.

But he didn’t. Why would he, when his long-overdue departure had been the catalyst for his meteoric rise to success at the Ministry? He had remained Junior Undersecretary to the Minister even through an administration change, which he knew was almost unheard of. It spoke to his talent, really. To his hard work. It proved that if he threw himself wholeheartedly into it, and dedicated all of his time and energy into being the best employee he could be, that all of his sacrifices would be worth it.

All of them.

Which was why, even though it had no business being so hot in early June, he had parked himself at the desk in his Central London flat. There was always something he could work on, always some way to do more. His plan, as it had been for the past two years, was to throw himself so fully into his work that he had no time or headspace for anything else.

Still, though. It was getting rather uncomfortable in the flat.

He stood, using the back of his hand to brush sweat from his forehead, and walked over to the window. It didn’t open much, just a small gap at the bottom, and there was hardly a breeze anyway. Nothing like the Burrow, where the windows opened wide and let the wind rush in and topple everything over.

It had always been difficult to get any work done like that.

No sooner had Percy sat back down, however, than a tawny owl flew in through the window he’d just opened with a large envelope clamped in its beak. How odd, Percy thought, to receive an owl on the weekend. Most Ministry correspondence was kept strictly to business hours.

As Percy took the envelope from the owl, he caught a glimpse of the penmanship on the front and felt his stomach drop. It was his mother’s writing. Countless scenarios flooded his mind, none of them cheerful; the weekly letters had stopped over a year ago, and now she never wrote him unless it was bad news.

He slid a finger under the flap and broke the wax seal, then drew a thick piece of parchment from inside. His eyes scanned the words, pressed into the page in elegant script.

M. & Mme. Alexandre Delacour

and

Mr & Mrs Arthur Weasley

request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of their children

Fleur

and

William

on Friday, the first of August...

Percy stopped reading; his hands were shaking too much. He recalled seeing Fleur Delacour at the kitchen table, back on Christmas, but he hadn’t been aware of this most recent development. To think that his eldest brother was betrothed, and he hadn’t even known… he supposed he must have been too busy cleaning mashed parsnips from his glasses to notice an engagement ring.

But why had he received an invitation? The last time he had been to the Burrow, they had made their position quite plain. Ginny and the twins, in particular, had behaved quite outlandishly - and he, Percy, had been on official business with the Minister, so it wasn’t as if they should have taken his presence personally.

Perhaps it was just proper etiquette. People always cast a wide net when sending wedding invitations, and they never expected absolutely everyone to attend. Good manners and tradition was all it was. He wasn’t really meant to attend.

Yes, that would be it, he decided, walking slowly back to his desk. Just good manners, the way they would probably also invite that second cousin of his mother’s who worked as an accountant, and then not notice whether he was there or not.

Percy gave one last look at the invitation, then dropped it into the small metal bin under his desk.

Then he set back to work.

#bill weasley #molly weasley #percy weasley #hp #harry potter fanfiction #I wrote the thing #and it broke my heart a little

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illusionsofdreaming · 4 years

Text

Liquid Courage

Prompt: Drunk confessions

Notes: So it’s my birthday and I thought as a gift, I’d finish this prompt I’ve been looking forward to for a while. Fun fact: I don’t really drink much and I absolutely HATE dealing with drunk people but it was incredibly fun to write this nonetheless.

FT: Saizo, Gaius

Saizo: “You drink too much.” He growled as he steadied you from nearly tripping again. His eye narrowed and he took a deep breath to contain his withering patience when you giggled. He did not find the situation funny at all.

It wasn’t that Saizo didn’t understand or was immune to the desire to let loose from time to time, after all, he was known to enjoy the occasional cup of sake but he also knew when to stop. He hated clouding his senses, anything that might impede his judgement could lead to deaths.

But there was also one disadvantage in being the most sober one in a group of idiots. Babysitting duties.

“Stop. Stop!” He pulled on your shoulder, halting another fall. With an aggravated sigh he swooped to carry you in his arms. You clearly hadn’t expected to be manhandled so suddenly and had struggled against the new arrangement. “P-put me down! I can walk!”

“Stop squirming!” He hissed, tightening his hold under your knees before you could flail yourself off. He was surprised when you actually listened, settling down with nothing more than a laughable attempt at a petulant glare. He rolled his eyes. Small mercies.

He did not focus on the heat of your skin through the thin material of his uniform, the same way he did not focus on the way your breath tickled his neck. After this night Saizo was going to his lord to petition for all consumption of alcohol to be banned until the war’s over.

He flinched involuntarily when he felt something touch his neck and looked down to find you nuzzling like a kitten.

“Stop that!” He snapped, patience thinning as his hackles rose, a chill ran down his spine when you did it again.

“You smell nice.” You whined.

He glowered, face heating up as you did it again. “Stop that or I will drop you.” he growled as if for some reason, his threats would mean anything to you in your current state.

You stared at him and he stared back. “You won’t.”

His expression darkened. “I will.” He loosened his grip but you only tightened your arms around his neck, your legs clamped around him as you clung to him.

“You won’t.” You glared, your gaze surprisingly clear for one so clearly drunk out of their mind. “Because you’re nice.”

Saizo halted in his steps, he met your daring gaze with bewilderment like you had grown two heads. Saizo has been called many things in life, none of them flattering, but nice was definitely not one of them.

“You know nothing about me.” he snorted resuming his journey, his arms unconsciously returned to their previous positions, supporting your weight without much thought.

“Yes I do!” You argued. “You’re a jerk, a meanie, a brick wall, a jerk, a... a...!”

There, were the familiar insults on his person.

“A big softie!”

“I am not a soft-“ he bit down on his words, angry, because he didn’t need to defend himself, especially not to you.

“You are!” You wailed. He glanced down in horror. Dragons are you tearing up?!

“You are! You’re a big, stupid, softie!” your fist thumped his chest in emphasis. “I know because I don’t like meanies and I like you!”

He nearly dropped you out of shock. “What?”

“You’re a meanie!” you grabbed his face. “You!”

“Whet gwo oph muai faef!” You’re crazy. Saizo decided. Absolutely mental. He reared back to free himself from your grip but you were hellbent on making his night worse it seemed. In his fight to drop you (damnit he’s had enough) and your determination not to get dropped, gravity swooped in at the last minute and won. The two of you fell down in a heap of limbs. When the dust cleared, somehow you ended up on top of him, pinning and straddling his chest.

There were tears on your lashes framing your eyes as you hiccuped and if it were any other situation, perhaps Saizo would’ve found it endearing. “Stop this nonsense and get off of me-“

“I’m lonely.” you hiccuped.

He froze.

“You hate me. You probably think I’m evil, or weird, or…. weird.” you emphasised the word with a wave of your hand like it made a difference. “You watch over me because I’m the eneh… enemmem… nenemey..” you frowned, and Saizo watched in morbid fascination as even more tears welled up in your large eyes. “..not friend. You hate me.”

He watched as you scrubbed at the tears on your face, missing most as they continued to bloom at the corners, a seemingly unending flow. He knew his actions are often interpreted as malicious but he never bothered correcting any assumptions. After all, he’s not obligated to explain anything to anyone but his lord. His job was his life’s mission and what others thought of him never bothered him.

But it seems things aren’t ever that simple. “…I don’t hate you.” He sighed. This was why he stayed away from others. People can find surprisingly complex ways to hurt themselves over nothing.

“No?” You whimpered.

It was true that when you first joined he had been suspicious of your true intents, but it’s hard to say when that skepticism changed into grudging respect. You dream of peace and unity and he had scoffed at your naivety. In his eyes you were nothing but sheltered royalty, spouting idealistic dreams founded within the security of four walls as you knew nothing of the true horrors of the world. Even if you weren’t planning on betraying them, he had expected you to fold upon realising the truth of war. That the realisation of pretty words such as ‘peace’ and ‘unity’ can’t be supported by dreams and vision alone.

Except, you didn’t.

Instead of despairing at the blood you must shed, you agreed and understood the necessity of sacrifices and paved the path, dragging everyone else along in your tailwinds, towards your vision. Such vague and faraway notions of unity and peace - things he believed could only be brought to fruition by the strengths and efforts of his lord - suddenly, he believed you could do it too.

“No.” Saizo doesn’t hate you and something in his chest twisted painfully when your face brightened immediately. Really now? He averted his eyes and ignored how his heart raced. “Get off, you’re heavy.” He grumbled.

“Mmmkay..” you giggled, and he rolled his eyes at how quickly your moods fluctuated. You paused awkwardly halfway through moving though and your next statement immediately drained all the heat from his face. “…I don’t feel so well.”

“No wait-“ He sat up as fast as he could- “Dragons! Not down the front of my-!!”

Gaius: “Who’d knew you’d be such a lightweight Bubbles.” Gaius chuckled as he guided you back to your tent.

“I’m not usually..mmm..” you were having a hard time keeping your head up and relied mostly on your companion to lead you the right way. “..mmaybe I had too much tonight..” you grinned and he laughed in response.

“Maybe.” Gaius agreed as he pushed aside the tent flaps. He eased you onto your bed and steadied your swaying by your shoulders. “You alright now?” He raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Mmmmm Yeah?.. yeah.. of course.. thanks.. Gaius.” You mumbled and bent over to undo your shoes but your fingers were having a hard time finding the strings until gentle hands batted yours away.

“Don’t hurt yourself Bubbles.” the thief laughed as he helped you unlace your boots. “In your current state you probably won’t recognize your own name.”

“_____________.”

He glanced up in surprise, not expecting you to actually respond to his jest. Your cheeks were flushed from the drinks but the look in your eyes was somber.

“It’s _____________.” You whispered. “The one thing I had even when I forgot everything else.”

“Right, of course.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat, forcing out a laugh. “Cheer up Bubbles, it just means you get to rediscover the joys of finding your favourites again.”

“Hmmm really?” You sounded dubious and he flicked your nose lightly.

“Yeah like your favourite animal?”

“Dogs.”

He grinned at your instant reply. “Favourite pie?”

“…Chicken?”

“Are you asking me?” he laughed at your confusion. “I’m more of a dessert pie guy.” He set aside your boots. “Favourite color?”

It was a habit of yours to nibble on your lip when you’re puzzling through a particular difficult problem and Gaius found it charming in a way, that such a simple question in your current state would trigger your unconscious habit. Your eyes strayed around your vicinity searching for a clue and he knew you found it when your eyes brightened and your lips twitched in a satisfied smile.

“I think it’s red.”

“You think huh?”

“Yeah..” you mumbled and your fingers reached out and patted his head. “Red.”

“I ain’t gonna wag my tail for you Bubbles.” He laughed brushing off your hand which had begun twisting strands of his hair distractedly. Your pleasantly buzzed expression wasn’t a common sight and Gaius made sure to remember the details of this moment - for blackmail purposes of course. It wasn’t often one got to witness Ylissean’s all famous tactician let down their guards, for once free of the stress and burdens of war. You’ll probably answer anything at this point. A devious grin slipped onto his face.

“Say Bubbles,” He drawled lazily, catching your attention. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Lissa stashes her honey cakes?”

Your smile was equally lazy with contentment, and this, he decided was definitely an improvement from the pitiful expression you wore earlier. “Yeah... it’s in the condiments box...within the ugly green sugar tin,” your nose scrunched as if the memory brought a bad taste to your mouth. “.. a removable partition underneath.”

Jackpot! Gaius couldn’t keep the victorious smile from his face as he patted your head in reward. “Thanks Bubbles. Lifesaver you are.”

“Save me some?” You pouted and Naga would strike him down should he refused those puppy eyes.

“Alright,” he acquiesced, “Teamwork and all that right?” He secretly wondered if you’ll remember this deal come morning. He decided to distract you.

“You’ve got a crush on anyone Bubbles?”

“Mmmm….yes.”

“Oh?” he grinned, “Someone caught your fancy eh? Who is it?”

You glanced at him blearily, your smile stretched into a wobbly grin as you giggled. Cute. “Something on my face?” Gaius smiled, eyes half lidded with fondness.

“I like..” you smiled.

“You like…?” he prompted.

“..I liiiiike..”

“Yeeeees?”

In a surprising feat of agility you leaped at him and although startled, Gauis reacted instantly, lurching forwards with wide eyes to catch you. His knee knocked on the bed post but he barely registered the pain when your next words, muffled in his shirt set off ringing in his ears. “..you, silly!”

He righted you immediately - and felt a little guilty when you looked a little green from the abrupt movement - but he couldn’t ignore the panic that clutched his heart at that moment. He must’ve misheard. Surely you meant someone else- he had expected to hear Blue’s name, or kind hearted Padre, perhaps even the women fearing swordsman from Ferox- but him-

His heart was galloping like he’d just consumed a bit too much sugar and the ringing in his ears were deafening. “You,” his voice faltered and he tried again, firmly this time. “You shouldn’t like bad guys Bubbles.”

“Don’t you dare insult him!” You kicked out and it connected with his shin, Gaius doubled over with a yelp.

“He’s a good man! A real good man! Not like you, you villain!”

“You just contradicted yourself there..” Gaius groaned as he rubbed his offended limb.

“I will not have you slander him.” You huffed and Gaius snorted. Boy, if only you knew the colorful names others had for people like him.

“What’s there to like about a criminal Bubbles?” He challenged, a bit miffed because for being the smartest person in the army you sure have dubious taste in men. “There are better people out there worth your attention.”

“It’s bad to judge someone by their past.” You declared. “I’m Plegian does that mean I’m scary and plotting the fall of Ylisse?”

“You’re plenty scary as is.” He barely avoided another kick to the shins. Right, you’re not in your right mind right now. If only his filter would remember.

“Everyone has something in their past they want to keep secret and nothing’s wrong with that. He might be cunning and sneaky and a trickster, but at the end of the day, he’s the one who’s taking the jobs no one wants.“ There’s a glimmer of tears in your eyes and they truly have come full circle now. “He’s the kindest, gentlest one in the army and I like him.”

Gaius wilted, truly torn. For someone trying to convince you find someone better (because there’s always someone better, someone without a scarred record, someone who isn’t guilty and bore physical mark of their crimes) for your own good, he was feeling like scum doing so.

“You really do don’t you?” he sighed, reaching out ruffle your hair. Silly fool.

“He smells really nice too.” You added as an afterthought.

“Why do I get the feeling the latter matters the most to you?” He asked wryly and couldn’t help but grin despite himself when you blushed.

“Alright, I give.” he grumbled but it had no heat as he flicked your forehead. “He’s the nicest and coolest, like a cuddly teddy or something.” A cuddly teddy with knives on its body and well versed on the ways to end a life from the shadows. Villain. He nudged your shoulder lightly and that was all it took for you to tilt over and flop sideways on your bed.

“Yeah, pretty squishy.” You agreed with a sleepy murmur, you were barely keeping your eyes open at this point.

His eyebrows rose, “I’ll have you know I’m fighting fit. Not even one bit of squishy on me.” He tucked you in and grinned as he watched you snuggle deeper into the warmth.

“…suuree…” you murmured. “..not.. one.. biiiit…”

He watched as your breathing slowed and the slight crease between your eyebrows loosened. “____________?” He tested softly. When no reply came he finally allowed himself to relax and lean back, settling his weight on his haunches as he ran fingers through his hair.

“Guess what?” He mumbled softly, “I like you too.” Even though he’s the last person who should. Even though he doesn’t deserve happily ever afters.

But after all he’s heard this night… He stood up slowly and stretched his body. “I’ll give it a shot Bubbles. Work to become the man you think I am..” How could he not at least try?

He brushed your hair back gently before turning and leaving your tent. “Sleep well ________.”

#fire emblem #fire emblem imagines #fe14 #fe13 #fire emblem awakening #fire emblem fates #imagines #saizo #gaius #fluff #drunk confessions #confessions #i actually wrote more #but i only finished the ones for saizo and gaius for now #i love these two husbands #saizo can't deal

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bookishable · 4 years

Text

deathly hallows book moments

warning: this one’s a rollercoaster ride of emotions, read at your own risk.

‘the idea of a teenage dumbledore was simply odd, like trying to imagine a stupid hermione or a friendly blast-ended skrewt.’

“i don’t think you’re a waste of space.”

‘he felt like asking them to show a little more respect for his privacy as they all began stripping off with impunity, clearly much more at ease with displaying his body than they would have been with their own.’

ron: why do i have to clean my room? mrs weasley: !!! WEDDING !!! ron: theyre not getting married in my damn bedroom

“we’re coming with you. that was decided months ago—years, really.”

“if i picked up a sword right now, ron, and ran you through with it, i wouldn’t damage your soul at all.” “which would be a real comfort to me, i’m sure”

harry waking up on his birthday forgetting he was 17

“accio glasses!” although they were only around a foot away, there was something immensely satisfying about seeing them zoom towards him, at least until they poked him in the eye.

ron giving harry a book called twelve fail-safe ways to charm witches for his birthday

“i’ve learned a lot. you’d be surprised, it’s not all about wandwork, either.”

‘the rest of her speech was lost; harry had got up and hugged her. he tried to put a lot of unsaid things into the hug and perhaps she understood them’

“are you planning to follow a career in magical law, miss granger?” “no i’m not, i’m hoping to do some good in the world!”

“it’s time you learned some respect!” “it’s time you earned it”

hermione: when we were little we heard stories like snow white and cinderella ron: what’s that, an illness? harry: rip me i never got read any stories

“a brutal triple murder by the bridegroom’s mother might put a bit of a damper on the wedding.”

“merlin’s beard, what is xenophilius lovegood wearing? he looks like an omelette.” excuse me why wasn’t auntie muriel like this in the film

“he used to down an entire bottle of firewhisky, then run on to the dance floor, hoist up his robes and start pulling bunches of flowers out of his—” “yes, he sounds a real charmer”

harry suggesting that xenophilius lovegood’s deathly hallows necklace is the cross-section of the head of a crumple-horned snorkack

“vot is the point of being an international quidditch player if all the good-looking girls are taken?”

‘harry heard her mutter a suggestion as to where ron could stick his wand instead.’

harry reading lily’s letter and noticing that they wrote their g’s the same way as each other, i’m sobbing

‘the letter was an incredible treasure, proof that lily potter had lived, really lived’

KREACHER’S GODDAMN TALE

kreacher hitting mundungus over the head with a saucepan “perhaps just one more, master harry, for luck?”

“if anyone shouldn’t go, it’s harry, he’s got a ten thousand galleon price on his head—” “fine, i’ll stay here, let me know if you ever defeat voldemort, won’t you?”

‘with a twinge of regret that had nothing to do with food, harry imagined the house-elf busying himself over the steak and kidney pie that harry, ron and hermione would never eat.’

‘not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.’

the sign outside the wreckage of the potters’ house, covered with messages left for harry

the child who had the nerve to say “nice costume, mister!” to mr tom riddle the dark lord voldemort, what an icon

“after you left, she cried for a week. probably longer, only she didn’t want me to see. there were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. with you gone… she’s like my sister, i love her like a sister and i reckon she feels the same way about me. it’s always been like that. i thought you knew.”

“you’ve sort of made up for it tonight, getting the sword. finishing off the horcrux. saving my life.” “that makes me sound a lot cooler than i was” “stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was, i’ve been trying to tell you that for years.”

ron single-handedly fighting off five snatchers by telling them he was stan shunpike

“he must’ve known i’d run out on you.” “no, he must’ve known you’d always want to come back.”

“i just think it’s a bit spookier if it’s midnight!” “yeah, because we really need a bit more fear in our lives”

“death’s got an invisibility cloak?” “so he can sneak up on people, sometimes he gets bored of running at them, flapping his arms and shrieking…”

luna decorating her bedroom ceiling with paintings of her friends (i’m not crying, you are)

POTTERWATCH

“we’re all human, aren’t we? every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.”

“i’d tell him we’re all with him in spirit, and i’d tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right.”

hagrid throwing a ‘support harry potter’ party

“the fact remains he can move faster than severus snape confronted with shampoo when he wants to”

“no! you can have me, keep me!” this book went from making me smile to shattering my heart in around three pages

‘hermione was screaming again: the sound went through harry like physical pain.’

ron’s ‘passable imitation of wormtail’s wheezy voice’

“so young, to be fighting so many.”

‘ron said, “blimey, a baby!” as if he had never heard of such a thing before.’

‘he seemed set on course to become just as reckless a godfather to teddy lupin as sirius black had been to him.’

“he was never free, never, the night that your brother died he drank a potion that drove him out of his mind. he started screaming, pleading with someone who wasn’t there… it was torture to him, if you’d seen him then, you wouldn’t say he was free.”

“i’m going to keep going until i succeed—or i die. don’t think i don’t know how this might end. i’ve known it for years.”

“i got this one for asking her how much muggle blood she and her brother have got.” “blimey, neville, there’s a time and a place for getting a smart mouth.”

“yeah, well, food’s one of the five exceptions to gamp’s law of elemental transfiguration,” said ron, to general astonishment.

“why would harry potter try to get inside ravenclaw tower? potter belongs in my house!”

‘harry heard a little strain of pride in her voice, and affection for minerva mcgonagall gushed up inside him.’

harry using the cruciatus curse on amycus in front of mcgonagall because “he spat at you”

mcgonagall dueling snape and sending a swarm of daggers at him

“where’s professor snape?” “he has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk” minerva i love you

neville throwing mandrakes over the walls

“is this the moment? OI! there’s a war going on here!” “i know, mate, so it’s now or never, isn’t it?”

‘and percy was shaking his brother, and ron was kneeling beside them, and fred’s eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face.’

‘a herd of galloping desks thundered past, shepherded by a sprinting professor mcgonagall.’

harry stunned the death eater as they passed: malfoy looked around, beaming, for his saviour, and ron punched him from under the cloak. “and that’s the second time we’ve saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!”

trelawney using crystal balls to knock out death eaters ‘with a movement like a tennis serve’

“are you a wizard, or what?”

“you must kill me.” “would you like me to do it now? or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?”

‘this cold-blooded walk to his own destruction would require a different kind of bravery.’

‘he was tiny in death.’

‘he felt he would have given all the time remaining to him for just one last look at them; but then, would he ever have had the strength to stop looking?’

“we’re all going to keep fighting, harry. you know that?”

“i am sorry too, sorry i will never know him… but he will know why i died and i hope he will understand. i was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life.”

“until the very end”

“this is, as they say, your party.” harry had no idea what this meant; dumbledore was being infuriating.

“it is a curious thing, harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it.”

“do not pity the dead, harry. pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.”

“of course it is happening inside your head, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

‘the scream was the more terrible because he had never expected or dreamed that professor mcgonagall could make such a sound.’

ron breaking voldemort’s silencing charm “he beat you!”

“i’ll join you when hell freezes over, dumbledore’s army!”

harry calling voldemort tom riddle like “yes, i dare”

‘tom riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken’ where please, movies?

‘mcgonagall had replaced the house tables, but nobody was sitting according to house anymore’

peeves’ song voldy’s gone mouldy

‘tears were sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard, and the pride and the gratitude emanating from him filled harry with the same balm as phoenix song.’

harry FIXING HIS DAMN WAND

“i’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.”

“if you’re not in gryffindor, we’ll disinherit you, but no pressure.”

albus complaining that everyone is staring and ron being like “it’s me. i’m extremely famous.”

‘the scar had not pained harry for nineteen years. all was well.’

#deathly hallows is the best book and i am not taking criticism on this #congratulations if your eyes are still dry #hp book moments #deathly hallows #harry potter books #harry potter quotes #hp textpost

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yukiwrites · 5 years

Text

Dark, yet Pure Feelings

Thank you so much for the support, @ reirevan ! I’m- I love Dimitri so much ToT I hope you like it!

Summary: Dimitri can’t tear his eyes from Byleth during the victory celebration after they had taken Fhirdiad back, his heart a conflict between jealousy and self reflection... If only they could be by themselves, he could pour his heart to her. Maybe.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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The shadow of Dimitri's tears still prickled his face, even after more than a few hours had passed since his return from the balcony. He could feel them, dried upon his rough skin, each time he spoke; with each smile he gave.

To smile.

To cry.

Ahh, how long had it been since he had allowed himself the pleasure of simply letting the warm emotions embrace him so! To think that one day he would be able to allow himself to look forward instead of to the past... to those who had taken advantage of his position as one of the living to enact revenge on their behalf.

Oh, they were still there. Even now, he could still hear them.

But their hold on him had lessened -- their hold towards where he would place his sight on had vanished completely. Now, his mind was focused on the future, one that he himself chose.

His unfaltering gaze falling on Byleth was no mere coincidence, either, for it was she who had helped him through it all. She had devoted herself to his cause long before he himself had any sights on what to do next; she had graced him with her experience, patience and warmth.

Ahh, the warmth of her hand; how it brought him solace even now, so deep into his memory. Dimitri didn't realize how he clutched his chest, the simple thought of intertwining his fingers with Byleth's once more making his heart beat in a dissonant tune, shortening his breath.

The large, once cold walls of the royal palace all but changed colors around Byleth, as though all torches and sources of light had gathered in her presence, knowing they would be welcomed and accepted. Through Dimitri's remaining functioning eye, he could see how only his former professor shone. The way she smiled softly whenever a comrade spoke; or how attentive her eyes were once she was the recipient of a story.

By the gods, who was Dimitri kidding? His gaze followed her not because of her constant presence nor because of her guidance -- it was simply because of who she was. As though he were a teenager following his teacher with his eyes once more, Dimitri's legs trembled slightly, helplessly keeping him from approaching her; from claiming the entirety of her attention for his own like he oh so desired.

He felt his armor scratch with the strength he used to dig into his chest, trying to clutch his own heart to stop it from hurting. It was such a new, supposedly pure pain he couldn't help but indulge it from time to time -- to stop himself from approaching her to simply marvel upon his own ability to grasp his own feelings like that.

That is, usually whenever he spotted Byleth on her own. He loved to simply watch her going about her business, to take in the quirks he was sure she herself didn't know she had -- to observe how gracefully her hair danced with the wind whenever there was a draft.

His heart would hurt just the right amount, making it a comfortable place for him to be; the smile sitting on his lips as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

However...

Right at that moment, Byleth wasn't alone. No, she was surrounded by people. Charismatic as she was, there wasn't a single moment that allowed her to be on her own that night, and that-

That wasn't the good kind of hurt that plagued Dimitri's heart. It was an ugly, murky feeling, that would stick itself around the walls of his chest as though it were thick tar.

He would struggle to reason with himself each and every time it happened: How dare he feel that way? To desire- to want to be the only one Byleth would direct her smile to; to be the sole recipient of her gaze (serious or no; fond or no... as long as her eyes were on him, it mattered not the reasoning behind the action), to-

T-to... hold her hand and never let go. To keep it within his own, away from any other person's touch; away from anyone else. To have her slender, strong arms around him and engulf her in his own embrace... to hide her away from the world and keep her to himself.

It set fire to the tar upon his skin to see other men treating her so nicely, his attentive gaze watching how their own eyes travelled around her with a desire better not put into words. It made him roar inside his mind and clutch hands to the bone-shattering point to watch and wallow in these deplorable, sickening feelings. What right did he have to feel that way? She wasn't his!

No, even if she were -- unlikely as that wishful thinking was, it helped douse the unpleasant fire within him, if only for a moment -- Byleth was her own person, free to converse and interact with whosoever she wanted.

And yet, oh, and yet... Murky his heart was.

Ugly, unsightly; possessive without any reason to.

How could he repay all that Byleth had done for him with these feelings? With- petty jealousy? Childish desire of monopolizing her and hide her away inside his mantle; away from the outside world, but close, oh so very close to himself...

Dimitri's brow flickered with emotion as he forced himself to look away from the scene, squeezing his eye shut. Even gracing himself with the sight of her should be forbidden -- if only to indulge in nurturing such thoughts, then tear away from her he must.

Yet, even with his eye closed, his whole body was devout to her -- his ears picked up her voice from the loud crowd huddling the hall, the sound of her laugh making his entire body falter, as though he could simply fall on his knees to beg for her forgiveness.

In contrast to her light, he sat under an unlit torch -- in contrast to her brightness, the tar pierced his skin, becoming one with himself. The largest the warmth that shone from her, the deeper the shadow his feelings cast upon himself, all but consuming him whole.

Yet, hating himself as he did, he hated it even more how unable to move he was: how he simply wanted to stay and listen to her for a moment more, for a second more.

To bask into the purity he felt from time to time; to indulge into being around her and keeping himself from taking her hand into his.

Oh, what torture! It was as though he liked to suffer.

Breathing in and out, the now King turned on his heel to leave, his heavy mantle flapping behind him with the brusqueness of the act. He was in a hurry to run away lest he succumbed like the weak man he was. Succumb into staying simply to suffer only so long as he could indulge his own contradicting heart.

He had to leave, but in his desperation to tear himself from the hall, he failed to notice an intent gaze...

The halls of the castle still held their familiar layout, surprising Dimitri himself with how well he remembered the way.

"Hahh," he breathed out, the chilly spring air doing wonders to clear his head and put his thoughts in order. He walked to nowhere in particular, his body simply enjoying being back between familiar walls and gardens.

Dimitri looked up to the clear night sky; the bright stars twinkling from above, reminding him of the peace their light used to bring him back in the day. Nowadays, it'd been only Byleth's presence that made the burden of life bearable to carry.

Shaking his head, the King once again breathed in and out.

It would do him no good to obsess over those thoughts; he was aware of that. He was also aware of how prone to sticking to a single train of thought he was, which only made it even harder for him to tear away from this or that toxic feeling, while still fully understanding how terrible that made him feel.

He had been very introspective as of late, not only thanks to Byleth, but to all of his companions as well -- Rodrigue, especially.

His old friend's words, his sacrifice... Coupled with Byleth's guidance and warmth, they quite literally brought Dimitri back from the unfathomably deep abyss that had become his heart. He realized that he still had much relying on Byleth to do, and that was part of the reason for his possessiveness -- she was helping him, and him alone, damn it all!

"Although it is not only me," he chuckled in spite of himself, trying and failing to spiral away from the dark thoughts. But try he must, for he needed to change -- no, he wanted to.

For himself, he wanted to take back the reigns of his thoughts. For himself, he wanted to get in touch with the darkest reaches of his heart and slowly, ever so slowly -- accept them.

He was nowhere near there, honestly. He thought of himself undeserving of happiness; the path ahead of him still so steep, so tortuous, so full of thorns.

A forlorn smile stretched itself along Dimitri's lips, making him close his eye to remember once again the good kind of pain his heart felt whenever he got in touch with his own self like that.

Not realizing where his feet was taking him, the moment Dimitri opened his eyes, he gasped softly under his breath, seeing none other than Byleth standing by the balcony, so many ways from the hall they were having their celebration...

How- why was she there-

Opening and closing his mouth before speaking, his heart annoyingly thumping so loud it made his eardrums numb, Dimitri reached out to Byleth's back, still a few paces away.

"Have you grown weary of the festivities?" He managed to say, surprised at how easily the words came to him. It was always like that -- he thought and overthought until his mind all but collapsed in and of itself, but when the time came to actually speak to her, the conversation always flowed naturally.

She had that power over him -- or perhaps, if he were so bold and confident to say, the both of them could always be honest with each other when it counted. He could always tell her how he felt and expect her acceptance and guidance.

Ahh, how comforting it was to simply be in her presence!

He watched how she turned around to face him, surprise plain in her eyes as she placed her hair behind her ears due to the quiet wind disheveling it. Surprise melted into a smile, her eyes bouncing from him to the ground, as though she were shy.

"I could ask you the same," she said softly, her voice reverberating through him with the potency of a thousand canons, making him weak in the legs. "You weren't there, so I-"

A gush of wind slapped them by surprise, making Dimitri widen his eyes as though the wind were the depth of his feelings. Could he indulge into these thoughts even for a moment longer?

To savor the notion that she also observed him as intently as he did her and not only left other people's company to search for his own, she enjoyed it.

Dimitri pressed his lips into a thin line, once again taking his hand to his chest in a vain attempt to clutch the heart beating wildly beneath it. "It is not that I have grown weary..." He shook his head in denial, when in truth he tried to put his thoughts in order. "More that I find it difficult to be around everyone at the moment." He scratched upon the surface of the truth, wanting to indulge this moment -- their moment -- for a while longer.

For even another second longer.

The ugly part of his heart rejoiced for having 'won' over the other people Byleth had been with previously while the fond half simply wanted to embrace her there and then.

Ah, but that was how it usually was inside his head, so Dimitri was at least content to be able to monopolize her time for the moment. He could once again be truthful to her, knowing she would accept and welcome him.

How he wished they could simply talk the whole night away, bathed under the bright starlight from his childhood – only the two of them. In his heart, he could feel the certainty of the question borne out of the deepest and self-indulgent parts of him. The question that would shape their future once – and if – they won the war.

To share the starlight of his homeland with Byleth until they took their last breath.

Ahh, how wonderful such future would be. How empowering it was to simply think about it! Byleth had taught him how to live and he- well, he wanted to share such knowledge with her. He desperately, deeply, unfathomably wished for that.

The road ahead was still steep. It was still dark and full of thorns, but this bright future the question inside of him unraveled past all of that gave the strength back to his legs, strengthening his heart and resolve. To think he would be kept awake due to hope for the future instead of chained to the past…

Truly, it was all thanks to her.

#dimileth #dimitri fire emblem #byleth #dimitri x byleth #fe 3h #fire emblem three houses #my writings #yuki's commissions #im love dimitri fire emblem end me I LOVE HIM #takes place between the cutscenes that follow the end of chapter 18 #*lies down* i love him

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moodycastiel-writes · 5 years

Text

sacrifice

summary: reader undertakes the trials to close the gates of hell in sam’s place. this is a little au that takes place during the season eight finale!

pairing: sister!reader and winchesters

warnings: angst. lots and lots of angst. foul language. y’know, the usual. there’s not a happy ending with this one. please don’t hate me (:

author’s note: i wasn’t originally going to write the confession, but i had a lot of ideas on how to establish a relationship between reader and the brothers, and i felt having her confess to her sins would make her more of an empathetic character. so yes, this is a small au that i had in mind where reader is sam & dean’s older sister who does the trials instead of sam. (((oh, also, cas does end up believing metatron and him and naomi kill metatron so the angels never fall.))) ((double also, crowley calls reader ‘fatale’, which is a rocky and bullwinkle reference, since he calls sam and dean moose and squirrel. just wanted to throw that out there in case anyone was confused to that reference!)) anywho, yeah, i hope y’all enjoy!!

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You could hear your blood pounding in your ears as you stood at vestibule of the run-down church, your shaking hand loosely holding on to the can of red spray paint, eyes trained on the devil’s trap you painted. This was it. Everything that has happened this past year is finally coming to an end.

You let out an uneven breath as the doors opened gently, the heavy footsteps of your brothers approaching you with caution.

“Do you have him?” you asked, not bothering to lift your tired eyes to meet them.

“Yeah,” Sam spoke, a level of uncertainty to his voice. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I have to,” you answered, turning around curtly and brushing past Sam and Dean, leaving the church as you neared the Impala. It was only a few moments before they were both at your side again, the hot sun doing little to warm the permanent chill that settled into your soul when you first started the trials.

“We should get started,” you said, turning to Dean, “the sooner the better.”

Dean nodded his head and smiled at you, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He opened the trunk and pulled out a handcuffed Crowley, completely at your disposal. Dean walked the demon into the church to get him ready, leaving you alone with Sam.

“How are you holding up?” he asked you as you grabbed the jar of holy oil from the back seat.

“Fine,” you responded, an unintentional iciness to your voice. “I’ll be better when this is all over.”

Dean walked back outside to meet you and Sam, wiping his hands on his pants. “Crowley’s all prepped and primed,” he turned to look at you, “How we feeling about this?”

“Honestly?” you asked, looking between your younger brothers, “Good. Better than what I have in a while. I think we’re finally going to win. This is all going to be over,” you sighed, a ghost of a smile appearing on your face for the first time in a long while.

Sam clapped a hand on your shoulder, but Dean cleared his throat behind you two. “All right, well, no dancing in the end zone until we're finished. What's the good father's playbook say now?”

You looked around the outside of the church eyes falling over the stained-glass windows. “Well... Now that we got the consecrated ground, I just, uh,” you cleared your throat, “I slip Crowley one dose of blood every hour for eight hours and seal the deal with a bloody-fist sandwich. That oughta do it.”

“Your blood's supposed to be purified, isn't it?” Dean remembered, “You ever, uh -- you ever done the ‘forgive me, father’ before?”

You shook your head, gaze dropping to the ground. “No, never. I have no idea what I should even say,” you admitted.

A thousand things were running through your head. All the countless times you’ve fucked up over the years. From the second your mother burned on the ceiling of Sam’s nursery to now, there was so many things you could confess. All the lies and betrayals, the murders and all the innocent people you’ve let die. Tears pricked your eyes, but you cleared your throat and blinked them away.

“Well, I could give you some suggestions,” Dean tried.

“O-okay, yeah. Sure,” anything could help.

“Alright,” he glanced at Sam, who had a disapproving look on his face. “Well, there was the whole siding with the demons thing. Or, um, ditching me when we were in Purgatory. Saying yes to Michael. Oh, also—”

“I get it!” you cut him off, not believing all the things he was currently throwing in your face. A wave of guilt washed over you, and an unsettling silence washed over you three.

“Well, we’re not getting any younger,” you finally said, passing Sam the jar of holy oil before making your way to the church.

“Hey!” Dean called after you, “Maybe open what you did to Penny Markle? In the sixth grade?”

You shot him a confused look, “That was you.”

Dean paused, the memory of what he did to poor Penny coming back to him. Clearing his throat, he waved you off. “Nevermind! Carry on.”

You rolled your eyes at him and made your way back into the church, closing the door behind you. You did you best to ignore Crowley’s eyes following your every move as you walked into the confession room, taking a seat on the bench.

“Okay,” you let out a shaky breath, “if anyone is listening, here we go.” You paused, your eyes screwing shut tightly. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” A cool blast of wind rushed by you, ruffling through your hair. You took it as a sign that someone, somewhere was listening, and continued on. “I have made a lot of mistakes. I have so many regrets, so many sins, that I don’t even know where to begin. I watched my brothers die, so many times, for what? To fulfill some stupid prophecy? I should have protected them. I—” you stumbled on your words, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

You wiped at your face and continued on. “I never should have let Dean sell his soul for Sam. It should have been me. I was supposed to do everything I could to protect those boys. If I just strapped on a pair, Dean never would have went to hell, and the seals never would have been broken. This is all my fault. I have to fix it.” The tears were falling freely down your face now, but you didn’t care enough to wipe them away. “I shouldn’t have let Sam ever say yes to Lucifer. I could have said yes. He never would have gone to Hell and lost his soul. It’s all on me.”

You took in another shaky breath, trying to calm down. “Leaving Dean alone in Purgatory… I don’t even know what I was thinking. I was so stupid,” you let out a humorless laugh. “I thought I was doing my best to protect him, but deep down I was trying to get away from him. From Sam. I caused so much pain in their lives, that it would be better if I just disappeared from their lives all together.

“But those things I’ve confessed, those sins I’ve committed, they’re not even the icing on the cake. I have so many things just piling up that I could sit here forever, but I don’t have enough time. My greatest sin, the tip of the iceberg… What I want forgiveness from the most is how,” your voice broke as you choked back a sob. “My greatest sin is how many times I’ve let my brothers down.”

An ache settled in your chest as you confessed what you never thought you’d say out loud in a million years. Another breeze of wind brushed past you, and you took it as a sign that your confession was over. You wiped your face, leaving behind all the traces of your confession in that booth and stepped out, your guilt weighing on your soul heavier than before.

Crowley stared at you with a smug look on his face, no doubt he heard everything you had just said. Eyeing a roll of duct tape on the table with your gun, the needle, and holy water, you grabbed it and ripped a piece off, tightly taping the demon’s mouth shut.

“Not a word,” you sneered, walking out of the church. You saw Sam and Dean talking with Castiel at the Impala in hushed tones. You couldn’t make out what they were saying from the distance you were at, and crept closer to them to make something out.

“—You’re asking us to leave her, Cas. Now, if anybody needs a chaperone while doing all the heavy lifting, it’s [y/n]” you were able to make out from Dean’s whispering. His confession about you was like a slap in the face. Did he really not trust you that much? Thinking you needed a chaperone for everything you did?

“You should you,” you announced, startling your brothers. You knew Cas was aware of your presence, and did nothing to acknowledge him.

They turn to look at you, a guilty look on their faces. “Seriously,” you added, not wanting to continue this conversation.

“Yeah, and leave you alone with the King of Hell? Really?”

You frowned at Dean, not understanding why he can’t trust you to do this one thing. Did he really expect so little of you where he is always prepared for you to fuck up and need someone to clean up your mess?

“Yes, really,” you snapped. You ignored the look of hurt that crossed over his face. “You two can’t do anything to help me. This is on me. I think I can get through one little thing without fucking it up.”

“[Y/n], you know that’s not what this is about,” Sam said gently. “It’s not that we don’t trust you. We don’t trust Crowley.”

“Crowley is bound to where he sits,” you argued, “nothing, not even the king of Hell, can get through both a devil’s trap and the chains we have him in.”

“Fine,” Dean said, “Start the injections now. If we’re not back in eight hours, finish it, no questions, no hesitation.”

“Yeah,” was all you responded. Castiel placed a hand on each of your brother’s shoulders and with the flap of his wings he was gone, leaving you alone at the church. With a heavy sigh, you made your way back into the building, facing Crowley. His words to you were muffled under the duct tape, but that didn’t stop him from blabbing. With a roll of your eyes, you ripped the tape off of his mouth, ignoring his wince of pain.

“You really think injecting me with human blood is gonna make me human? Did you read that on the back of a cereal box?”

You ignored the demon as you picked up the needle, pushing it into the vein in your arm. You drew enough blood and slowly ejected it, and walked over to Crowley.

“Are you listening to me, brat?”

“Shut up,” you sneered, thrusting the needle into his neck. He howled in pain as you yanked the needle away.

“You're miles out of your league, kid,” Crowley barked at you as you turned your back on him.

“See you in an hour,” you called over your shoulder, walking to the table at the altar. Your arms began to glow that golden color that always appeared after you completed the trials. Why was it showing up now? You bit back your pain, your hands forming into tight fists, waiting for the pain to go away. When the light finally faded from your veins, you let out a breath of relief and sunk to the ground, your back resting against the altar. You looked up at the cracked statue of Jesus on the cross and closed your eyes, waiting for your watch to beep, signalling the next round of injections.

—————————————————————————————————————

When your watched finally beeped after an agonizingly long hour, your were up on your feet as fast as you could get, the needle already in your hand. You ejected more blood from your veins into the syringe and made your way back over to Crowley, who looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You ignored the look in his eyes and issued the second dose of injections into his neck. In the blink of an eye, Crowley’s head turned and his teeth sank into your forearm, hard enough to draw blood.

“What the fuck!” you exclaimed in pain, drawing your arm back and clutching the new wound in pain. You gave him an exasperated look before punching the demon across the face. “Seriously? Biting? What are we, five?”

You shook your head as you walked away from him, placing the needle back onto the table. You spared Crowley another bitch-face as you walked out of the church, slamming the door behind you. You walked to the trunk of the Impala and grabbed bandages to wrap up your arm. As you secured the bandages, your arms began to glow again, and you fell to the rubble on your knees.

“Stop it,” you groaned as the light grew brighter. “Please.”

Finally, the light faded again, leaving you struggling to get a grip on your breathing. With struggle, you turned your body to sit upright against the Impala, your head falling back, staring at the sky. The sun had begun to set in the distance, the sky painted with beautiful sparks of color.

“I can do this,” you whispered determined to yourself, “I can do this.”

—————————————————————————————————————

Another hour had passed by and you made your way back into the church, stuffing more bandages in your pocket before doing so. At the sound of the door opening and closing, you heard Crowley chuckle.

“How we doin’, Fatale? Ready for another round of injections?” he asked, a joyous tune to his voice. You ignored him and filled the syringe with another dose of your blood.

“Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes,” he began singing, you instantly recognizing the David Bowie song, “turn and face the strange. Ch-ch-changes, just gonna have to be a different man. Time may change me, but I can't trace—”

His singing was cut off by a loud sound, the church beginning to rumble. You quickly turned to face Crowley who seemed unfazed by the sudden shock to the church.

“What did you do?” you shouted at him over the sound of the quake. He remained stoic, but the hint of a devilish smirk rose to his face. The floorboards began to creak under your feet, a large crack running down until it severed the devil’s trap that you painted right down the center.

“Did you really think you could kidnap the King of Hell and no one was gonna notice, dumb nuts?”

An expression of fury and fear took over your features as the door to the church were ripped open, Abbadon revealing herself on the other side of the door.

“Now that’s what I call an entrance,” she gloated, patting herself on the back.

“Abbadon?” Crowley questioned. “They told me you were dead.”

“So not.”

“Where’s the rest of the cavalry?”

“It’s just little ol’ unkillable me,” she smirked. You turned quickly, reaching for your discarded gun, but with a wave of her hand, Abbadon sent you flying across the church and into the wall, your head slamming against the wood. You groaned as you landed on your stomach, your vision going blurry.

“Brilliant. Why send in a few grunts when you can send in a knight? Say your prayers, Fatale,” Crowley smirked. You tried to get up, but the Knight waved her hand again and sent you through the stained glass window to your right, immediately falling unconscious.

—————————————————————————————————————

When you came back to, it took you a minute to remember what had happened. You scrambled to your feet, hoping not a lot of time had passed in your impromptu siesta. Looking around for a weapon that you could use against Abbadon, your eyes settled on the jar of holy oil you had given to Sam. He must of left it for you, in cast of an emergency. You let out a silent thank you and patted your jacket pockets, striking gold when you felt your father’s lighter in your pocket.

You crept to the entrance of the church where the doors were still open and peered inside, eyes landing on Abbadon hovering over Crowley. You snuck inside, careful to step around any loose pieces of wood to prevent any unnecessary noises to alert your presence.

“Right now, you and I are going to talk about a regime change,” Abbadon said, crouching down to send another punch to Crowley’s face.

“You little whore,” he barked, “I am your king!”

She punched him again, this time hard enough to shut him up. When she went to stand back up, you ran forward and threw the holy oil over her body.

“Burn, bitch,” you spat, throwing the lighter on her. You watched with a smirk as her body lit up in flames and she screamed in pain as her vessel burned. Her mouth opened wide and she exited the body before any further harm was done to her, and she escaped the church in a flash of black smoke.

Without wasting any time, you made work of picking Crowley back up and fixing the chair so it was back in the devil’s trap. He groaned as he came back to consciousness, watching you with a glint of something… admiration, maybe? to his eyes.

“You did good back there, Fatale,” he congratulated you. “I'll deny it if you ever quote me, but I'm a proud man. I'm proud of you.”

You ignored his comment, instead focused on gabbing the can of spray paint you left on the table to fix the trap where it broke.

“Wait, what are you doing?” he asked.

“What does it look like?” you snapped, overly agitated at the events that had just transpired. You finished up the devil’s trap and threw the can to the side, it clattering to the ground noisily.

“Are you joking?” he asked, incredulously. “I just saved your life!”

“Seriously?” you dead-panned.

“Seriously? Me, seriously? We just shared a foxhole, you and I. We beat back the Tet Offensive, outrun the --the Rape of Nanking together! And still you're gonna do me like this?!”

You ignored his tangent and grabbed the needle, filling it up with your blood and jamming it into his neck before he could get another word in.

“Aah! Aah!” he exclaimed in pain, before a whole new emotion washed over him. “Band of Brothers? The Pacific?” he asked. “None of this means anything to you? All those motels, you never once watched HBO, not once?” You shook your head at him, confused at where he was going. “Girls? You're my Marnie, Fatale. A-and Hannah, she just—she needs to be loved. She deserves it. Don't we all—you, me; we deserve to be loved. I deserve to be loved!” he shouted, before lowering his voice back down to a whisper, “I just want to be loved.”

You cocked your head the the demon. “What?” you asked.

A confused look washed over him, and his expression mirrored yours. “What?”

As the moment of Crowley’s tangent passed, a wave of fatigue passed over you. The pain of where the needle was injecting into you suddenly took a toll on you. You walked back over to the table and placed it down, grabbing the spare bandages from your pocket. You wrapped where the puncture wounds were tightly, wishing right about now you had some extra strength tylenol. You took more blood from your opposite arm, wanted to be prepared for the next dose of injections just in case something else was going to happen.

“Would it be possible, Fatale, I’d like to ask you a favor,” Crowley spoke, his voice sounded drained and exhausted. “[Y/n], earlier you were confessing back there, and… well, I didn’t hear much, not really, so I’d like to know what you said.” You gave him a look that read ‘that’ll never happen.’ At the sight of your expression, he instantly clarified his statement. “ I only ask because, given my history...it raises the question... Where do I start...to even look for forgiveness? I mean…” he trailed off.

You paused, shocked at the revelation. The cure, it was working.

“You start with this.”

You held the needle out in your hand, showing him what you meant. Crowley tilts his head to the side, exposing his neck where the marks of the past injections were. You gently pushed the needle through at his submission, and unlike the past ones, he showed no signs of pain, but rather contentment.

“This is going to work, Crowley,” you reassured. “You’re going to be cured, and you’ll be redeemed. I promise.”

A gust of wind blasted through the church, and your arms began to glow again, but this time there was no pain. “We’re almost done,” you whispered, not sure Crowley even heard you. “It’s time.”

You took a deep breath and began the exorcism, the final piece to purify him. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, hanc animam redintegra, lustra.”

As you pulled your knife from its holder, the light grew brighter, and you sliced across your palm. You walked closer to Crowley, and as you were about to feed him your blood, footsteps barreled through the church.

“[Y/n]! Stop!,” you turned at the noise, coming face to face with the worried looks of your brothers. You backed up from them, your hip bumping into the arm of Crowley’s chair, a confused expression on your face.

“Easy there,” Sam coaxed gently, putting his hands up. “Take a deep breath.”

“There’s been a slight change of plans,” Dean said, slightly more aggressive than Sam.

“What? What’s going on?” you asked. “Where’s Cas?”

“Metatron lied,” Sam explained. “Him and Naomi are going to confront him.”

You shook your head at him, still not understanding what was going on.

“You finish these trials, you’re dead,” Dean said bluntly, trying to get you to understand what was happening. You looked between your two brothers, then back at Crowley. You scoffed and shook your head, looking back to face them.

“So?” you said, your voice slightly breaking.

Sam and Dean’s faces melted from worry to an emotion you couldn’t place, but it was somewhere along the lines of hurt and betrayal. Betrayal. Even now, after you’ve confessed and sought forgiveness, you were still letting your brothers down in ways you couldn’t stop. It had to stop. Finishing these trials with your death, it’ll all stop.

“Look at him!” you exclaimed, pointing down to Crowley. “Look at him! Look at how close we are! Other people will die if I don't finish this! Who cares about me?”

You could feel the tears pricking at your eyes, but you ignored the sensation. Dean took a small step forward, his brow creasing. “Think about it. Think about what we know, huh? Pulling souls from hell, curing demons, hell, ganking a Hellhound! We have enough knowledge on our side to turn the tide here. But we can't do it without you.”

“You can barely do it with me,” you fired back immediately. The confused look on his face egged you to continue. “I mean, you think I screw up everything I try. You think I need a chaperone, remember?” you couldn’t help the single tear that fell from your eyes as your voice cracked on the last word.

Sam frowned. “That’s not what he meant—”

“No, that’s exactly what he meant!” you exclaimed, cutting him off. You let out a humorless chuckle. “You want to know what I confessed in there?” you asked, pointing to the confession booth with the hand that you didn’t cut. “Do you want to know what my ultimate sin was? The thing that held me down the most?”

When neither of them answered, you continued. “My greatest sin was—is— how many times I’ve let the two of you down. I can’t keep doing it. Not again. Finishing this, it’ll end it all.”

“[Y/N]—” Sam tried, but you continued talking.

You held back a sob as the tears finally began falling. “You two don’t trust me anymore, I can see it in the way you look at me. Like I need one of you with me at all times. You haven’t trusted me in a long time, and it took me awhile to realize it, but now that I have I feel so fucking stupid for not seeing it before.” Another humorless laugh escaped your lips.

“I know I’ll never earn your trust back, there’s nothing else I can do to prove that I love you both more than anything. You don’t see it, and I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of watching you guys turn to other people when you get sick of me.” At their confused expressions, you elaborated. “Who will it be next? Another demon? Another angel? Another vampire?” You shook your head.

“You have no idea what it feels like to see the two people you thought—”

“Hold on, hold on!” Dean cut you off, finally breaking you from your tangent.

“You seriously think that?” Sam questioned, taking a step forward to be back in-line with his brother. “Because none of it, none of it is true.”

“Listen, [Y/n],” Dean began, “I know we’ve had our disagreements, all of us, okay? Hell, I know I have said some really fucked up things to get you thinking the way you are but you need to understand… I killed Benny to save you. I'm willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed mom walk because of you. Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you.”

Your shoulders slumped at his confession, and the tears fell faster from your eyes. You looked between Sam and Dean, then down at your bleeding hand, and in a split second you made your decision. You turned and brought your hand up to Crowley’s mouth, and instantaneously you felt him drinking your blood. The pounding in your ears resumed, and you barely heard Sam shouting words of protest behind you.

You pulled your hand away, and the light erupted throughout your entire body. “Kah-nuh-ahm-dahr,” you whispered. Crowley let out a gasp, his eyes flicking to his demonic red, then faded completely back to his human eye color.

“It worked,” you laughed, turning to face your brothers. They looked at you with wide eyes, not daring to move. You had no time to celebrate your victory of the trials, instead a large rumbling echoed throughout the church, and the ground began to crack again.

This time, underneath the cracks in the ground, a hellish light peeked through, eating away at the floorboards. A hole opened up underneath your feet and you jumped back far enough to the edge, opposite of your brothers as your watched with wide eyes as black smoke broke through all the windows of the church, glass shattering everywhere. The sound of hundreds, if not thousands, of demons screamed as they were forced back into hell against their will. The wind picked up harshly and you were thrown back from the portal to hell, losing the sight of Sam and Dean through the smoke.

When every last demon was through the portal, it closed up tightly, no signs of what had just happened anywhere. When the smoke cleared and the dust settled, you looked across to your brothers, a smile creeping up on your face.

“I did it,” you whispered, pinching yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

Your heart hammered in your chest and you groaned at the pressure, stammering back an inch. Immediately, Sam and Dean were at your side as your legs began to give out, helping you to the ground. “I did it,” you repeated, your voice getting weaker, your eyelids becoming heavier.

“Yeah, [Y/N],” Sam sniffled, “you did it.” He gripped your hand tightly, squeezing it in his large one.

You smiled weakly up at him, using what little strength you had to squeeze his hand back. You looked to your other side to Dean, whose eyes were red-rimmed.

“I’m s-sorry,” you whispered at him, at the both of them.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Dean said, finally looking over your pale form.

“You have to… you have to promise me,” you croaked out, struggling to get out your final words. You coughed, doubling over as it overpowered you. Raising your free hand to your mouth, you coughed up blood into it. “No bringing me back,” you finally said. “I’m at peace.”

“You can’t ask us to do that,” Sam said. You turned to look back at him, smiling sadly at him. You grabbed Dean’s hand with your free hand, feeling your last breaths creep up on you. You could have sworn you’d seen a person standing over Sam’s shoulder, but they had disappeared before your vision could focus.

“I love you both, so much,” you whispered, you eyes falling shut. Your grip on your brothers’ hands loosened, and your chest stopped rising and falling. Your head lulled to the side, your body completely still.

You stood over your two brothers, holding your body in their arms as they wept for you. A cold hand rested on your shoulder, and you turned around with a gasp.

“Tessa,” you said, staring at the reaper.

“[Y/N],” she greeted, a welcoming smile on her face. “It’s time.”

You nodded your head and she stuck out her hand. You spared one last look at your baby brothers, and grabbed her hand in yours, your soul leaving Earth to face judgement. You did not know where you were going to end up, if your final quest was good enough to outweigh all the shit you’ve done in your life.

You knew that Sam and Dean would be okay. They always were without you.

#supernatural #supernatural one shot #supernatural imagine #supernaturalimagine #supernatural x reader #dean winchester #dean x reader #Sam Winchester #sam x reader #sister!reader

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snidgetsafan · 5 years

Text

The Curse of the Black Roger: Chapter 7

Rating: T

Summary:

“You should start believing in ghost stories, Miss Swan – because you’re in one.”

When young Princess Emma found a pirate necklace on the baby rescued from the sea, she never expected years later to be swept into an adventure worthy of her favorite novels.

And she certainly never expected someone like the legendary Captain Hook.

A “Pirates of the Carribean” AU

Notes: Here is my offering for the CSSNS! Thanks to @amorecolorfulmoniker, whose pic set inspired this fic. Thanks to my betas, @gingerchangeling and @shireness-says who acted as a sounding board, a crying shoulder and grammar enforcers where needed. Thanks also to @slow-smiles, who created amazing two pic sets for this fic! (1 and 2) And thank you to @wingedlioness for making the amazing header!

This chapter was also done for @csmarchmadness. Thanks for organizing this event, which not only kicked my butt into finishing this chapter, but which is also providing us with wonderful fic!

On AO3

Previous chapters: Prologue, Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Emma sat curled up against the headboard on her bunk, trying to stay calm and stave off the panic that she could feel rising. She had woken up as the first rays of dawn had bathed her room in red light, only to find a stranger seated at the foot of her bed, startling her into instant alertness.

Dr. Almasi, as he had introduced himself, had checked her for any injury before declaring her in perfect health. Despite her unease, his movements had been efficient and to the point, if a little brusque, as he had examined her in silence. Hirudinas, the court doctor, had always taken care to treat her carefully and ceremoniously, mindful of her rank, chattering on and on about the weather and the latest gossip in court. Almasi hadn’t taken the same precautions; after all, as far as he knew, she was just a maid. Surprisingly, Emma had found she quite liked it.

Before departing, the doctor had told her she could find breakfast in the galley if she so wished. When Emma had reminded him she was a prisoner and couldn’t really roam the ship, Almasi had turned around and asked her in his cultured, accented voice with no hint of any mockery, “Well, why not? There is nowhere you could escape to, Miss Swan, so it makes no sense to confine you to your cabin.”

And with those matter-of-fact words, the doctor had gone, leaving the door wide open as if to make his point. Emma, however, had hurried to close it as soon as she had heard his footsteps fade in the corridor. With the door open, she was free to go, true. But others were also free to come in. And she didn’t want to see anyone – not yet, at least.

Especially not Hook.

At that thought, Emma had felt a chill go down her spine as the events of the night before came back to haunt her. Every time she tried to rationalize what had happened, images of Hook transforming flashed before her eyes in excruciating detail. The noise Gill’s head had made as he had torn it off his neck wouldn’t leave her mind either. Tears came to Emma’s eyes as she realized in what dire straits she now found herself. Her situation somehow kept getting worse and worse, ever since she had put on that damned medallion.

Which is why she had to calm herself and think , the princess thought determinedly. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself. She had been trained all her life in diplomacy; this situation wasn’t that different, was it? It was just that the stakes were a little… higher than the usual diplomatic blunders she had to look out for.

Just her life; that was all.

She had to concentrate on the facts. What did she know? The pirates had kidnapped her because they needed the last coin and someone to sacrifice to break their curse. She was thus important, and this gave her leverage. Apart from the previous night, when they had terrorized her, they also ensured her well-being: she was fed, clothed, had her own cabin and no one had touched her. Whether this was due to some obscure pirate code article, or for some other reason, this also indicated they would not resort to violence. More power to her.

Now, how to use that power.

~~~~~

An hour later, with the sun well over the horizon and her stomach rumbling, Emma found herself at the bottom of the ladder leading to the deck, her insides knotting with nerves. She had no idea where the galley was, and she didn’t want to explore the dark corridors on her own. Which left the deck, bathed in sunlight, but full of undead pirates. With some luck, she’d be able to ask the doctor where the galley was, or even maybe the pirate with the red hat – Smee, was it?

She could hear the normal noises you would expect to hear on a ship trickling down from the open trapdoor – orders being shouted, creaking wood, the sails flapping in the wind. The princess took a moment to gather herself, her heart beating erratically in her chest. Emma had no desire to interact with any of the pirates, and not only because they turned into monsters at night. No, it had more to do with the fact that they wanted to sacrifice her in a dark magic ritual .

Emma took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself down. They needed her, she told herself again. So until they arrived at their destination, she was as safe as she could be while on a pirate ship. Which, granted, probably didn’t mean much. But in order to find a way out of her predicament, she had to use the time she had to gather as much information as possible. The princess started to slowly, carefully climb up the ladder, not knowing what to expect as she peeked her head above the opening and looked around her,.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d think she were on any regular ship, with sailors attending to their tasks to make sure they arrived safely at their destination. But this was not a normal ship; even if the macabre scene she had seen the previous night was not permanently imprinted on her eyelids every time she closed her eyes, the black planks, sails, and ropes of the ship would tell her something was amiss. And if she raised her eyes to the top of the mainmast, the skull and bones flag floating from its peak would remove all her illusions about this being a normal ship.

Seeing that no one was paying her any attention, focused as they were on their work, Emma gingerly climbed the rest of the way and stood near some barrels, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. From her vantage point near the stern, she could see that there were half a dozen men on deck. She recognized Smee’s red knit hat near the bow, and she thought that the tall bald man pulling on a rope across her might be Fagan, the man who had almost hit her when she had come aboard.

Emma stood in the shadow of the quarterdeck, not far from the steps leading up to it for a few minutes. She didn’t dare turn around or go up the stairs, not wanting to face the ship’s captain yet, despite the stare she could feel burning on the back of her head. She didn’t know how, but she knew it was Hook. Emma didn’t want to think about how she knew that. She instead watched the crew working, trying to reconcile the mundane scene in front of her with the nightmare she had stepped into the previous night. As she was watching a slim pirate swinging on the rigging, apparently checking the various pulleys near the mainmast, a familiar gravelly voice interrupted her contemplation.

“So, the princess deigns to grace us with her presence.”

Emma whipped her head towards Gill, fear taking hold of her again. They knew . However, instead of the gloating or angry expression she had expected to see him sporting, she was surprised to see an uncomfortable one that deepened at the alarm he saw on her face. To her bewilderment, the brash, vindictive pirate she had come to know and despise shuffled his feet, looking anywhere but at her, his eyes focusing somewhere behind her before he opened his mouth.

“Look, lovely… It was brought to my attention that my behavior towards you last night was apparently ‘highly inappropriate’ and on ‘the edge of being cruel’,” he began, reciting words that were clearly not his own. “So… yeah. I guess I’m sorry, and I won’t do it again.”

Emma stared at him, completely baffled, her mouth agape. What on earth had just happened? While it was clear that his words had been a repetition of what someone had said to him, his promise had sounded sincere, even if he didn’t seem that contrite.

Gill finally looked directly at Emma when some time had passed with no answer seemingly forthcoming from her. Scowling at her shocked expression, he barked, “What? Do you want me to drop to my knees to beg for your forgiveness as well? Well dream on, sugar, that’s never happening.”

Strangely, his coarse words allowed Emma to find her mental footing again. An antagonistic Gill was easier to deal with than a contrite Gill. She was used to the pirate being hostile; seeing him this sheepish made her… nervous.

“Oh please no. That’s the last thing I need to see,” Emma told him, wrinkling her nose at the mental picture of the pirate kneeling in front of her.

“Good,” Gill said, again looking anywhere but at her.

“Good,” Emma repeated, doing the same, focusing on the barrels next to her as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

The two stood side by side, the silence becoming more and more uncomfortable as the seconds passed, until Emma’s stomach rumbled loudly. For once thankful for the noise, she turned towards the pirate, drawing on all her etiquette training to ask him as politely as she could, “Could you direct me towards the galley, please?”

Gill grunted, and with a jerk of his head, invited her to follow him as he headed towards the trap door. Wordlessly, he led her down the ladder, turning right instead of left. After a few seconds, the stocky man stopped in front of a doorway, gesturing for her to precede him into the room.

Emma stepped inside carefully, looking around for other pirates. She was glad to see the galley empty, the only movement coming from the pots swaying gently on their hooks as waves rocked the ship. The walls, floor and ceiling were the same black as the rest of the ship, lending a very gloomy atmosphere to the windowless room. The only light came from a couple of lanterns swinging over the big table set in the middle of the galley. Curiously, Emma couldn’t help thinking that even though the walls of her cabin were also dark, the sunlight had revealed chestnut reflections in them this morning which had only brightened as the light had increased. Here, however, they were as black as night, seeming to absorb the light despite being made of the same wood.

Fitting, really , Emma thought as Gill brushed past her, heading to what seemed to be the larder. He got out a dish with some meat on it with one hand and grabbed a few pieces of bread in the other before putting them down, gesturing for her to take a seat on the long bench that ran the length of the table.

With a murmured thank you , Emma sat down, struggling shortly with her skirts, and started to eat. She stopped chewing when she saw the pirate reach for a piece of bread, which he started to munch. Feeling her gaze on him, Gill raised his eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“I thought you weren’t able to eat because of the curse?”

“Nah, we can eat. It’s just that it does nothing for us. We can’t taste it, and it doesn’t sate our hunger,” the pirate answered before taking another bite.

“Then… why eat?” Emma asked, completely flabbergasted.

Gill shrugged, shredding his bread thoughtfully with his hands. “Not everyone does. It’s just… old habits die hard.”

And it helps you feel human , Emma realized, reading between the lines. Emma couldn’t imagine being hungry for days, let alone for hundreds of years. This was worse than Tantalus’ punishment; they could eat, unlike him, but still their suffering did not end. They were truly without hope. Despite her resentment towards Gill, Emma couldn’t help but feel compassion for him. She wouldn’t wish this fate on her worst enemy. Choosing not to voice her thoughts, she instead said, “So that’s why there’s so much food, and how you were able to whip up yesterday’s dinner.”

The pirate snorted, looking at her with an amused smile. This was the first time Emma had seen him without any hint of hostility in his expression, and he looked softer, almost kind. “Well, you can thank the lads who raided the castle. At the prospect of getting the last coin and breaking the curse, they got a little… over enthusiastic in your kitchens. Morons forgot that fresh meat doesn’t hold long enough to get to Black Rock, and neither do fresh vegetables. McCullough was actually relieved when the captain ordered him to cook you a meal, he kept whining about throwing away that much food.”

Emma smiled wanly, continuing to eat as Gill spoke, filing away the information that their trip would be at least several days. Granny must be furious they touched her kitchen , she thought, her smile widening. Imagining the matron cursing the pirates out when she realized her larders had been raided entertained Emma as footsteps sounded in the corridor.

The princess’ shoulders stiffened, making her realize with surprise that at some point during her conversation with Gill, she had relaxed. Half-expecting to see Hook, Emma turned towards the door, but she had never seen the man who stepped in the doorway. His blue eyes, set in a weathered face, were framed by deep laugh lines, and his thick red beard covered the bottom of his face and part of his neck. He looked at Gill briefly before focusing on her, his accent making his voice surprisingly melodious.

“Everything alright, love? Gill here treatin’ you right?”

What is it with these pirates and calling me everything but my name? Emma thought, miffed. Out loud, she answered the newcomer briefly, choosing to be prudent and not make any waves. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Did he apologize? Did you apologize, you stupid lout?” he pressed, his accent getting thicker as he addressed Gill, looking at him in disapproval. Gill huffed, grumbling about bossy bastards as he started munching on his bread.

“Yes, he did,” Emma answered for him, looking between the two men curiously. She was missing something, some piece of information.

“He did? Good. What he did last night was completely inappropriate, lass, despite his grudge. Which is totally unjustified in the first place,” he finished, looking pointedly at his crewmate. His wording made Emma realize that she had been right, and Gill’s apology had not been spontaneous. The ginger pirate seemed to have quite the sway over his crewmate.

“Did you want something, Mr. Evans, or would you like to continue berating me?” Gill barked without much bite. He looked almost… fond? Honestly, they sounded like an old couple, Emma thought, observing their bickering.

“Eh, you know you love me,” Evans replied, smirking at Gill.

“I often wonder why,” the seated pirate grumbled.

Oh , Emma realized. They were a couple. Looking down at her plate, Emma wondered why Evans loved Gill . Guess Papa was right, and love does make us blind , she thought bemusedly, not understanding how anyone could love a man so brash. Although that glimpse she had gotten earlier of a softer man...

“Of course you do,” Evans said, before turning towards Emma. “If you’re finished eating, lass, the captain is waiting for you.”

Oh boy, here we go.

~~~~~

The captain’s quarters looked different in the daylight. While still dim because of the dark walls, the portholes lining one side of the cabin let the morning light pour into the room, dispelling the shadows that had seemed so overwhelming the night before.

Hook sat at his desk, clad in black from head to toe. As soon as Evans ushered Emma in the room, the captain stood up, his hand going to his belt buckle. Now that he stood in broad daylight, she could see that his hair was not completely black, and that his beard held ginger hues, breaking his monochromatic look. Emma stayed near the door once it had closed, leaving the table between the pirate and herself.

“Swan,” Hook greeted, smiling at her thinly. “Did you sleep well?”

Her frosty look must have been answer enough, as his smile faded quickly and he cleared his throat.

“Right,” he said scratching behind his ear. The movement attracted Emma’s gaze to his palm. She could still vividly remember the previous night when she had thrust her knife into his hand, the blade slicing through flesh and tendons before sinking into the tabletop. Looking down quickly, she could see the stab mark in the table, but, try as she might, she could see no trace of a mark on Hook’s hand, even now that it was resting again on his belt buckle.

“If you’re looking for a reminder of when you… nailed me to the table, Swan, you won’t find anything,” Hook said, raising his eyebrow and licking his lips slowly when Emma looked back at his face.

The princess shifted on her feet, troubled by his salacious expression before she processed his words. “I didn’t nail you to the table, I used a knife,” she told him, frowning. What was he talking about?

The pirate blinked, looking out of his depth for a second before he cleared his throat again.

“Anyway, no mark, as you can see,” he rallied, showing her his hand first palm up, then palm down while taking a step forward. His tanned skin indeed seemed unmarred. If not for the gash in the table, she could have thought that she had dreamt the whole scene.

Emma looked at his hand until he dropped it to the table, leaning forward. “I think there might have been a slight misunderstanding between us last night, lass,” Hook told her, trying to catch her gaze.

“I don’t see what there is to misunderstand about needing a blood sacrifice to end your curse,” Emma snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “The fact you intend to kill me leaves nothing to interpretation.” Only how you intend to do it , she thought, a shiver running down her spine.

“That’s where the misunderstanding is, Swan. We’re not going to kill you,” Hook told her, before gesturing to a chair with his hook. “Sit down, love, so that I can explain.”

“Oh please, don’t try to placate me! Dark magic always requires a high price, there is no way I’ll walk out of this ritual unharmed,” Emma snapped, choosing to remain standing. What kind of idiot does he take me for?

“You said you can tell when people lie to you. Well, Swan, have I told you a lie?”

Emma pursed her lips, frustrated that she could not say that he had. But it made no sense – he hadn’t lied either the previous night, and he had told her… Had he though? Or had her imagination run away from her, fueled by her fear? The princess raised her head, locking gazes with the pirate captain. With a short, jerky shake of her head, she indicated that no, he hadn’t lied to her.

“See? Then sit ,” he commanded, the former request turning into an order as he took a chair, looking up at her expectantly.

Not looking away from his face, Emma pulled over a chair from across from where he sat before plopping down on it. If there was a time to draw on all her diplomacy training, then this was it. The princess took a deep breath, which helped to center her. “I’m sitting. Now explain.”

“The blood sacrifice we’re asking of you is in no way life-threatening,” Hook began, “Blood magic does not require the death of the offering; hell, it doesn’t always mean the spilling of blood at all. In this particular ritual, all we need is a very small quantity of blood.”

“Then if you need so little, why bring me with you? Couldn’t you have taken it from me in Misthaven and released me?” Emma asked, ashamed to hear a whine in her voice.

“Because the ritual is very particular and demands blood freshly spilled.”

For the first time in their conversation, Emma could feel he was not entirely honest. He’s holding something back , she thought. “You’re not telling me everything. What are you trying to hide?”

Hook sighed, although he didn’t seem particularly upset with her. “Quite perceptive, aren’t you? Aye, you’re right, there is something else. The blood must be willingly given. We can’t take it by force.”

“Seriously?” Emma asked incredulously. “What is this curse? Why not use someone from your crew?”

“Because we all have already given our blood. Yours is the last ingredient we need to break the curse. Well, that and the last coin,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Emma asked abruptly. Hook was giving her incredible leverage. He was far from an idiot, so why was he being so straightforward?

“Because we need your help, Swan,” Hook said, “And to deceive you to get it would be bad form.”

“So kidnapping me is not bad form, but lying to me is. You have twisted standards, you know that, right?”

A shadow crossed Hook’s face before he leant forward, his voice low. “Understand something, Swan. For three hundred years we have searched for a cure for this curse. Now that we’re so near our goal, we are getting desperate to be free, and we’re not afraid to take a few shortcuts.”

“And what shortcuts will you take to gain my compliance?”

Hook chuckled, “Oh, I have no illusions about ‘gaining your compliance,’ lass, I know you’re too strong-headed for that. No, what I’m trying to earn is your cooperation .”

“And how do you intend to earn it?”

“By answering your questions. No trickery, no deception.”

Emma leant back in her chair, considering the pirate and his words. All her assumptions were being turned on their heads since she had stepped foot on this ship. Since she was stuck in this situation until she could find a way to escape, she might as well get as much information as she could.

“Alright then. First question: let’s say I help you break the curse. Will you take me back unharmed to Misthaven?”

“Well, I’m not sure it would be a good idea for us to sail right into the bay, but I’ll get you home safe – or as close to home as I can.”

He was sincere. He did seem to have some sort of ‘good form,’ as he put it.

“Right. Next question. How did you end up cursed? Did you get punished for stealing from the wrong person?”

“In a way, yes, although not in the way you think. What you must know is that this ship was not always a pirate ship, and this crew were not always pirates. We used to belong to the Braesal Navy.”

“Wait– Braesal? But that kingdom disappeared hundreds of years ago!”

“Aye, it did.”

“But that would make you…”

“More than three hundred years old, aye. But this is not the first time I’ve told you.”

He was right: he had told her just a few minutes ago, but she had swept the fact to the side, focusing instead on the curse and her apparent imminent death. Emma watched the pirate carefully. He didn’t look three hundred years old. In fact, he barely looked a handful of years older than her. But then, Emma remembered what he had looked like the night before, emerging from the hatch into the moonlight. She could believe that Hook was three hundred years old. A three hundred year old corpse, to be precise.

Suppressing a shiver as she remembered the previous night, Emma nodded at Hook, conceding his point. “Okay, but what does Braesal have to do with the curse? I thought you said it was from Agrabah?”

“As I was trying to tell you, we used to be in the Navy,” Hook began, “The Roger was called the Jewel of the Realm then, and my brother Liam was its captain. Our admiral, the King’s brother, ordered Liam to retrieve a chest, promising its contents would help end the war that was suffocating our kingdom. So we did,” the captain said, chuckling bitterly while playing with the tip of his hook. “But the weasel had lied. He wanted the chest because of a legend that said whoever owned it became immortal. He wanted to use it to overthrow his brother, you see. We tried to stop him, but for our efforts Liam was killed, and the prince had me imprisoned. After he took a little souvenir, that is,” he smiled sarcastically, waving his hook in the air, chilling Emma once she understood he meant his hand. “The crew freed me with the help of a palace guard, and we took the chest back as our severance pay, as well as the Jewel .”

Emma listened to him intently. She had studied the fall of the Braesal kingdom when she had been a child. She remembered that the last king, Brendan, had orchestrated a coup against his older brother. The Mad King, as he had been known, had reigned for three short years before being captured by the joint forces of Misthaven and Camelot when they had taken the capital. He had died a few months later, murdered by one of his former officers.

“So that tells me how you became a pirate, not how you were cursed. If owning the chest made you cursed, then how come the King was not? I’m pretty sure a king transforming into a skeleton at night would have been quite hard to miss.”

“Turns out the the prince’s Agrabhese wasn’t quite up to par. Owning the chest was not sufficient to be cursed. You had to take coins from it for the magic to take.”

“So he didn’t?”

“No. I guess planning to murder your brother to take his throne must be quite time-consuming, luckily for us.”

Emma privately agreed. Thank the gods Brendan hadn’t gained immortality. If someone power-hungry enough to kill his own flesh and blood had become invincible, what would the world look like today?

“So you and your crew took the coins.”

“Aye, we did. After all, what better way to take our revenge on the King than by spending his precious gold to wage war against him?”

Emma blinked. What did he mean, wage war? Then she remembered that the reason Camelot and Misthaven had been able to invade Braesal had been that the latter’s navy had been so weakened by pirate attacks that the two allies had been able to navigate straight into the capital’s harbor. But surely he didn’t mean...

“You took part in the Pirate War?” she asked in disbelief.

“If by taking part you mean engineering it, then aye,” Hook told her, raising an eyebrow at her tone.

“You engineered– you were in the Pirate War ,” she said, completely in awe and forgetting her situation for a minute. She remembered reading accounts of the conflict, the naval battles, the boardings, the battles to the death. And he had been in them . But then, if he had spent the coins...

“If you spent all the coins, then how come no one else was cursed?” Emma asked, secretly wondering how come she hadn’t been cursed.

“Only people who take coins directly from the chest are cursed,” Hook answered, staring at her with amusement, “so don’t worry yourself, you’re quite safe.”

“I know I’m safe, I’d have noticed turning into a monster at night,” Emma snapped, miffed that he’d somehow divined her thoughts. But then something he’d said a couple of times finally registered. “Wait – if you need the blood of the original thieves… what do you need me for? I’ve never taken anything from that chest.”

“Well… you haven’t, Swan. But do you remember that palace guard I mentioned earlier?”

Emma blinked, baffled by the non-sequitur. “Er… yes?”

“Well, after he helped us escape from the castle, we took him onboard the Roger. Pirate life didn’t suit him, and he had a young lass waiting for him, so after a few days he went home, but not without a little parting gift from the chest,” Hook explained, getting the coin out of a pocket in his waistcoat. “When we knew what we had to do to break the curse, we realized one of the “thieves” was missing, and we figured it had to be him. However, when we came back to the village we had dropped him off at, he was long gone, chased by the war. We searched for him, but only managed to find his wife, who told us he had disappeared one day, and that she had never seen him again.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with me,” Emma interrupted. Why was he telling her all this?

“Because while we never heard from McEala again, he’d had a son with his wife before disappearing. And that son had two sons, who had children of their own. And so on and so on, until we get to you, love. You are the last descendant of Ian McEala, Swan.”

Oh. Oh no. Emma realized with horror that their plan hinged on her actually being McEala’s great-great-grandchild. Which she definitely was not; as a royal, her bloodline had been carefully traced back five hundred years, ever since her family acceded to the throne. And there was definitely no Braesal guard among her ancestry.

“But how can you be sure I’m the one you’re looking for?” she asked, a little desperately.

“Well, for one, you had the coin,” Hook started to list, “second, we always kept an eye on the McEala family’s whereabouts, even when searching for the other coins. We lost them about ten years ago, though, when the ship they were on exploded.”

Emma felt a shiver go down her spine. “You were actually there, I didn’t imagine it,” she blurted out, leaning back in her chair. “It was you, you attacked the ship!”

Hook’s gaze grew dark at her words. “We certainly did not,” he bit out. “While we were approaching to board to get your father, the ship exploded. We don’t know what happened, though we suspect an idiot blew up the powder reserve. We would have come nearer, but then another ship approached, and we couldn’t stay without being discovered. We thought the McEala line was extinct, until the other night, when you told us your name.”

“But my name is Swan,” Emma protested, “and you said your guard was called McEala.”

“Ah, but my dear, don’t you know what Eala means in old Braelish?” Hook asked with a smirk. Emma looked at him, thinking hard, before she realized. Henry’s blanket, embroidered with swans, prompting her to name him after them. It had been decorated thus because...

“Aye, it means swan, love,” the pirate finished her thought, seeing the realization on her face.

Emma suddenly felt overwhelmed. Only a couple of hours ago, she had thought that her life had been in a downward spiral ever since she had put the medallion on – was that only two days ago? But she was coming to realize that events had been set in motion more than ten years ago, when she had taken the necklace from Henry’s blanket. And now here she was, prisoner on a pirate ship whose captain believed her capable of breaking their curse. But she couldn’t, she realized with growing alarm.

“Swan? Swan!” Hook’s voice came from afar, bringing her back to reality. The touch of his hand on her shoulder snapped her back to her senses as she jumped up and away from him. How had she not noticed him getting up and walking around the table? she thought wildly as she backed away until one of the sturdy chairs was between them.

Hook watched her warily, his hand now resting on the back of the chair she had been sitting on. Emma was thankful to note that he made no move towards her, as her heart slowed down to a normal rhythm.

“Are you alright, lass?” the captain asked, his blue eyes fixed on her face. It was eerie, now that he had moved out of the direct sunlight, how his hair and beard appeared once again black, his blue eyes the only spots of color on his whole being. They seemed to glow as Hook waited for her answer, his features cast in sharp contrast as he tilted his head, his eyebrow slowly rising as her silence lengthened.

Watching him, Emma couldn’t ignore how striking he looked; she shivered, for a reason she did not want to acknowledge. It was getting cold, that was all. Hook however straightened, his brow furrowing in consternation as he took a step forward, stopping when he saw Emma stiffen.

“You don’t have to worry, Swan. I know we didn’t meet under the best circumstances,” he began, causing Emma to raise her eyebrow in disbelief. That was quite the understatement, after all. “But I promise you we’ll take you home once we’re free of this curse. And the blood giving ceremony is not that dreadful, it’s just that you’ll have to give twice more than we did because you’re not the original – no, that’s not what I meant!” the captain backtracked, hearing her gasp and seeing the look of horror on her face as Emma felt her heart jump in her chest. “The ceremony requires three drops, so you’d only have to give six. Word of honor, Swan, that’s all we ask of you.”

Emma turned her head towards the window, biting her lip in thought. All he had said had rung true, but since boarding his ship all her beliefs and assumptions had been proven wrong. What was to say her lie detector wasn’t going awry too?

The princess also found she couldn’t stop challenging Hook. Apart from the fact he had kidnapped her, he had given her no reason to doubt him; she had her own room, had been fed twice now, and he had never lied to her. He did seem to be in earnest; he just wanted to be free from the curse which had plagued him and his crew for three centuries. Maybe that was the problem; he was making it too easy to trust him.

Emma also realized that out of the two of them, she was the deceiving one. But what was she supposed to do? Tell Hook the truth? At best she would be held for ransom, and at worst she’d be made to walk the plank. She had no choice, she had to continue this charade, at least for the moment.

As she had been thinking, Emma had been unconsciously rubbing her arms. She realized she had been doing so when Hook cleared his throat, sounding closer than she expected. As she whipped her head back towards him, she saw that he had sneaked up on her once again. Although, instead of standing close to her, he was standing at an arm’s length – literally, in this case, as his right arm was stretched out towards her, his coat hanging from his hand.

The princess looked at the pirate in surprise, not understanding. She also noted how he kept not only his distance, but his hooked arm away from her, trying to appear as harmless as possible. He wasn’t very successful, but Emma appreciated the effort nonetheless.

“You seemed cold,” Hook merely said in response to her questioning look, shaking the coat gently, encouraging her to take it.

Emma took it gratefully, preferring to hide her thoughts behind this excuse. Plus, it was getting cooler in the cabin, especially for someone who had been used to the sweltering heat of a Misthaven summer, and who was only wearing a light dress.

“Thank you,” she said softly, putting the heavy coat over her shoulders, getting surrounded in the captain’s smell. Strangely enough, she could feel no warmth coming from the garment, even though he must have had taken it off his own body not more than a minute before.

“You’re welcome,” he answered just as softly, looking at her with an odd expression for an instant, before blinking quickly and taking a step back. “Although you’ll be needing warmer clothes as we travel up north, lass. There are some in the hold, I’ll take you there.”

–--

Emma ducked her head as she entered the hold, Hook’s lantern casting dancing shadows as it swung from his namesake. With yet another shiver, this reminded Emma of the ghastly lights that the harbor fire had cast on the castle walls. Was her family okay? How many casualties had there been? She hoped David and her father were safe, and that they were with Henry. Gods, she even had time to wish for Cassidy to be okay before Hook interrupted her thoughts.

“If you turn left behind that crate, lass, you’ll find where we stashed the clothes,” he guided her, pointing over her shoulder to a large crate full of dinnerware.

Emma followed his instructions, advancing slowly as the heavy coat swished against her legs. The light fell on three chests full of garments, both masculine and feminine. Some of the dresses seemed familiar to her, especially that light blue one at the back. It looked like…

“Wait, did those clothes comes from m– the castle?” she snapped, turning towards Hook, who was leaning against the pile of crates on which he had put the lantern.

The captain smirked, spreading his arms. ”Pirate, love, of course they did. What, do you expect me to carry a whole wardrobe around in case I need to clothe a pretty lass?”

The princess rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore his last comment as she turned back towards the clothes. She was mad, that blue dress was one of her favorites. Emma quickly realized that she had to be careful in her choice of clothes. Not only had he mentioned them going North (something she would dwell on later in the privacy of her cabin), but she was supposed to be a maid. What would Hook think if she went for her usual fabrics and cuts? She didn’t want to take any risks.

Searching through the chests, she saw from the corner of her eye a fourth one, apart from the others, full of women’s clothes which seemed to come from the servants quarters. Before she could take two steps towards it, Hook stopped her.

“Not this one, lass, that’s part of Allen’s bounty.”

“What does a pirate want with women’s clothes?” Emma blurted out, completely baffled. “Wait, I don’t want to know,” she hurriedly added after a second’s thought. She wasn’t sure she could take another shock today, she thought, resolutely ignoring images of dancing skeletons wearing lacy dresses and bonnets.

Hook chuckled, however, mirth dancing in his eyes at her reaction. “It’s nothing like that, lass. His descendant is getting married in two days’ time, and he’s taken that chest to complete her trousseau .”

Emma nodded before turning back towards the chests, wanting to hide her face from the captain. Just when she thought the pirate couldn’t surprise her anymore, he managed to find a new way to do so. They had families? Did they know about the curse, or that they were pirates? Emma wondered as she rifled through a chest, finally finding an outfit simple enough for her persona, and warm enough for colder temperatures. A couple more minutes provided her with a cloak, and even with clean stockings. Search as she might, however, but she couldn’t find any shoes. After her trek to the ship, and the last two days, her slippers were the worse for wear, and were definitely too slippery to walk on the damp planks of the deck.

As always Hook seemed to be able to read her mind, as a pair of boots landed near her, his voice ringing in the empty hold. “I think these might be your size, you’d better check though.”

After close inspection of the boots, Emma privately agreed, but the pirate was right, she needed to try them on. Sitting down on a closed crate, she leant down to remove her slippers before suddenly looking at Hook, who was watching her with a smile on his face. “Do you mind?” she snapped. He had already seen her in her nightgown, she certainly wasn’t about to let him see her bare legs.

The captain raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he made a show of turning his back to her. Emma hurried to try on the boots. While she felt a slight pinch at the level of her toes, they were fine, and would adjust to her feet with a little time; after all, it’s not like she could call the court cobbler to make her a new custom pair. She would have to make do.

––-

A couple of hours later, Emma sat in her cabin, dressed in her new breeches and shirt, fiddling with the laces of her vest as she remembered the last words she had shared with Hook. After they had come back to her cabin, just before she’d stepped through the threshold, the pirate captain had caught her arm, turning the princess to face him.

“Swan… Emma,” he had begun, watching her earnestly, “I know all of this is a lot to take in, and that you have no reason to help us but… can we count on your cooperation?”

“I…” Emma had stuttered, flustered at being so close to him.

Before she could gather her wits enough to answer him, he had plowed on, eager to persuade her. “With the coin in your possession, you are the last piece to free us from this curse, so that we can live our lives. I know it’s a lot to ask, but we… I need you, Swan.”

Emma hadn’t needed her lie detector to know he was telling the truth; his eyes had been imploring, passionate in their plea. How could she say no to him?

So she hadn’t. She’d nodded, and had been rewarded by a smile – a true smile, nothing smirky about it – and a squeeze of her arm, before he’d let her go inside her cabin.

And now here she was, consumed by nerves and something that felt a lot like guilt. Even though she was still afraid of the Black Roger’ s crew, she couldn’t help but pity them now that she knew about their plight. And to think they’d endured it for three centuries... she thought with horror. Through her few interactions with them that day, she’d seen a human side to them: the obvious affection between Gill and Evans, Allen’s family…

As for the captain of the ship, she didn’t know how she felt about him. Each time she thought about the previous night, his monstrous transformation, that picture was now replaced in her mind by his earnest eyes and brilliant smile of relief when she had accepted to help.

And that was exactly what was causing her feeling of guilt. Because ultimately, the captain’s hopes would be dashed. She wasn’t the one he needed; that was Henry. And that fact would quickly come to light when they performed the ceremony, and nothing happened.

Although… Hook had said that the curse needed the blood of those that had stolen the coins… And wasn’t that what she’d done? She had stolen the medallion from Henry, so maybe the curse had somehow transferred to her? Despite not being a direct descendant of McEala, maybe she could still break the curse, and free Hook and his crew.

She wanted to help them – and she hoped that she could, because she didn’t dare imagine the consequences if she failed.

Tag list (tell me if you want to be added!): @hollyethecurious, @shireness-says, @gingerchangeling, @slow-smiles, @wingedlioness, @branlovesouat, @snowbellewells, @kmomof4

#cssns #cs march madness #cs ff #cs fic #captain swan #snidget writes #tcotbr

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bounnostra · 5 years

Text

EXECUTION 2 | HEIR.

Dead Silent.

That's what the world felt like to PIP the moment after he was unable to suppress his illness any longer. He's not sure whether it was the constriction of his lungs, the intensity of his rapid, unnatural heartbeat, or the intense ringing in his ears, but he completely failed to notice the superhero signals turning off, slowly, one by one.

He could tell there was someone trying to help him, but he was too busy wondering about his own health to actually get a good glimpse at them. The world had completely blurred and everything spun, like a carousel in the middle of a deserted amusement park. That's why he didn't notice the rustling, metallic sound of chains wrapping themselves around his arms, legs, chest and neck, abruptly cutting off his coughing and slightly suffocating him.

His eyes snap open, too shocked to react—glancing to the origin of the chains out of the corner of his eyes, he realizes their origin is the deep darkness further below. His eyes, for a split second, fleet back towards the group gathered around, still sitting on the director chairs they had been assigned, before PIP's chair suddenly cracks, the sound of wood creaking as it struggles to hold together before it snaps all at once, and before anyone can react, the Cryptozoologist free-falls down towards the darkness.

His image shrinking more and more every second until he's consumed by the darkness below, but even so the sound of the chains retracting somewhere hangs in the air. Just like with TIME before, a beam of light beams up from the table's center, and like before, it adjusts for a few moments before displaying a sinister scenery.

Before you is the sight of an eerie, uncanny and ghostly forest—skies painted a deep blue illuminated by a full red moon and mist covering most of the black-wood trees that provide shadow to the already stygian woods. The sound of a scream is heard for a few seconds before, appearing out of nowhere, the falling figure of PIP appears, the blood-curdling scream he's letting out quickly being replaced by a sharp gasp as he impacts against the dark brown floor, his back arching as he struggles to even take a proper breath in—those breathing problems really are starting to get to him, and it shows.

The moment he lands, several eyes can be seen opening from the shadows, all of different shapes and colors; some yellow, some green, some red, and their gaze is fixed on PIP, not keeping him, for even a second, out of their sight, before suddenly all of the eyes turn to... Look at you? You, the observer? You don't understand what's going on, that is until you feel a sudden gust, no, a current of wind as strong as a canon enveloping the seats you're all sitting at, and the table itself! It feels cold, it feels like your skin would lacerate at any moment!

Then, the vortex fades away and a single signal illuminates the sky once more, but it isn't the sign of any hero you know about. It's the signal of an owl—Gambit, you quickly figure out, and then you see it. A... Bird? A plane? You don't know what it is, but it is a gargantuan winged beast you've never seen before, and just as fast as you saw it in the distance of the sky, it fades away...—wait, is there someone missing from their seat? Whatever.

Then you hear its roar, and your eyes focus back on the beam of light.

PIP stands, still coughing before his eyes transfix on the sky... It doesn't take you long to figure out just what he's seeing. A panicked expression on his face as the other eyes lurking deep in the shadows focus on him, he picks himself up and, even as he continues to cough more blood out, with sloppy steps, he runs and runs as fast as he can, but the flapping of those large, skeletal wings grows closer and closer every time, and even with the dim illumination in the forest, you can tell a shadow is growing larger and larger on the ground, hovering right over him and assimilating his shadow with its own. A drum-piercing, disturbing roar is suddenly heard, bellowing from the great darkness below you, and you quickly figure out exactly what it is... The creature announcing its found its prey.

Severely weakened by his condition, regardless of whether you find yourself rooting for him or wishing his demise, you watch as PIP trips over his own steps, turning around just in time to see the creature opening its large maw and advancing on him! He stands, but he can't do much more than just turn around and stare, transfixed with horror as he awaits for his demise…

...and yet the maw of the devil is obstructed, rouge blood splattering out in a macabre cloud.

It is not PIP’s.

You may or may not seen IVEY’s descent, especially if you were not near her. You may have been too transfixed on the large cryptid’s circling flight, or PIP’s terrified screams. But if you had, you would have seen the woman as little more than a flash of pink and green. As if completely forgetting her mortal wound (or perhaps purposefully defying it), she jumped to her feet, racing across the table. There was no hesitation in her leap into the darkness of the forest below.

(25 feet… no more. Perhaps less. It was not a fatal fall, and yet she could feel the life leave her a bit as she landed, her unseen wounds being torn asunder once more.)

She coughed, wheezing heavily before pressing forward. Her battered body had only made it between the two with mere seconds to spare. If she were healthy, and with a sword comfortable to her, she might have been able to unsheath it in time… but now?

Well, an arm for a life seemed like a fair trade.

She doesn’t even yell. She doesn’t make a noise besides a sickening grunt that only PIP can hear. Her brow knitted and she nearly bit her tongue with the tensing of her jaw, body recoiling as skin and muscle were ripped apart. Her bones shattered. The creature’s bite was unrelenting, and soon IVEY would falter.

“PIP MOVE!!”

And move he did… but not in the manner she was expecting.

There was no time to panic, and especially no time to waste the sacrifice IVEY had gone through to allow his faulty lungs to draw breath still! Though it was only a moment’s repose, the thought of death brought to the pseudoscientist a wave of comfort he had only ever felt once before, when the pathogen leeching him off his life was first discovered. But he wouldn’t let a life go forfeit—not as long as he himself could protect it with his own life!

The instincts of a hunter quickly resurface, and as the adrenaline spreads throughout his body, reenergizing the once helpless Cryptozoologist, swiftly, he takes hold of the blade resting on the swordswoman’s body. A sword which had been at one point dull and devoid of sharpness, and then destroyed by the force of a berserking titan, now served as their beacon of hope.

With a warcry loud enough to scare the prying eyes of the other bizarre creatures lurking in the darkness that overexert his lungs and his vocal cords, screaming and bleeding from the mouth his lungs out, PIP moved his body to the side of the creature, jamming the now-jagged edge of the blade against the creature’s neck; a soft spot waiting to be exploited.

The creature wailed, immediately letting go of IVEY’s body to instead rear up, tearing the sword from PIP’s hands. Severely injured, but not yet dying, it flapped its wings, retreating back to the skies from whence it came.

IVEY and PIP survive, and as the fog thickens around them, the last thing you can see is PIP, shaking and still bloodied, approaching the woman dressed in scarlet who gave an important part of herself for him. The last thing you hear is him yelling.

“IVEY… No… I’m… I’m so sorry… Y-Your arm..!”

Before the thick fog clouds your vision, and the beam of light disappears...

[thank you azura for the art!]

#execution #pip #execution2

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razieltwelve · 5 years

Text

Eldritch Intruders (Eldritch Entity)

At some point between being chased by a tentacled monstrosity the size of a subway car and being chased by a winged terror that seemed to be made mostly of eyes and teeth, Yang began to regret some of her life choices.

Oh, the night had started well enough. Her family had been in the occult business for generations. Her father was rather famous as a monster hunter of sorts although his fame was mostly restricted to certain circles. For obvious reasons, the authorities weren’t about to admit that eldritch beings capable of annihilating the universe were real.

Panic wouldn’t even begin to describe what would happen if they did.

Yang wanted nothing more than to live up to her family’s reputation, and so she had taken it upon herself to investigate the rumours of monsters in the sewers underneath her high school.

That was her first mistake.

Her second mistake was allowing Ruby, Blake, and Weiss to come along with her.

Ruby, like Yang, had been trained to fight various otherworldly creatures, but her younger sister had a long, long way to go before she was ready to face anything truly dangerous. She’d run into Blake and Weiss down in the sewers. Evidently, both of them had heard the rumours too and were keen on dealing with the situation themselves.

And that led to her third mistake.

As the most experienced monster hunter, Yang had been in charge. She should have retreated sooner. There had been inscriptions on the walls of the sewers. The Mark of Devouring Flesh, the Sign of the Unfurling Mirror, and the Sigil of the Broken Angle were the three that she recognised. In retrospect, she should have called for a retreat then and there. Anybody - or anything - that could command beings from such disparate realms was someone even her father would have been hesitant to face.

But Yang was Yang. Running wasn’t in her nature… right up until the shoggoth had turned up, thundering toward them like a freight train. They had run for their lives, only to find themselves tumbling through a trap of some kind until they stopped in a vast hall lit by unnatural flames. The cavernous space loomed over them, dwarfing even a stadium, and then there had been the crackling, snapping flapping of wings made of teeth and eyes.

“Come on!” Yang shouted. “We have to get out of here!”

“We know that, idiot,” Weiss growled. “But where are we supposed to go?”

“Stop shouting and save your breath,” Blake shot back. “There has to be a way out of here.”

“Who’s that?” Ruby yelled, pointing up ahead.

Yang squinted. There was someone standing there in robes of deepest black that were lit with runes of eldritch radiance. On their shoulder was… a hamster?

“Just keep running!” Yang began to weave signs in the air. “I’ll get them out of the way! They have to be one of the cultists responsible for this whole mess.”

There was a sound like a gunshot, and a bolt of flame rippled from Yang’s hand. The Javelin of the Sacred Fire was a technique suited for destroying eldritch monstrosities - or melting cars. The figure shrugged and then lifted one hand.

“$%#%#%$#!”

Yang and the others dropped like puppets with their strings cut, and the blonde’s attack vanished like smoke on the breeze. Yang spasmed. That was a Word of Binding spoken in the language of the long-lost Sages of the Sunken Empire. She’d never heard anyone speak that language. It wasn’t even supposed to be possible since everyone who knew it had been dead for more than a million years.

As the two monsters that had been pursuing them stopped, Yang forced herself to look up at their opponent.

“Those are good eyes,” the woman said - and it was a woman - as she walked over to them. “Unfortunately, determination isn’t enough. Words of Binding wouldn’t normally be so effective on people, but, then again, none of you are people in the strictest sense of the word, are you?”

“You…”

“@%&@#$^&!”

Yang found herself unable to speak. It must have been a Word of Silence.

“You know, the Sages of the Sunken Empire were geniuses. The Words they came up were - are - truly beautiful works of occult power. It’s a pity they didn’t exercise any common sense. Did you know there’s a word that, well, translates roughly to ‘shatter a continent’? That’s why their empire sank. Oh well. Less competition for me, I guess.”

More cultists arrived, and Yang mentally cursed. They were completely surrounded now. She had to contact her parents. At the very least, she needed to find a way to get Ruby and the others out of this.

“But, back to what I was saying.” The woman chuckled and then pointed to each of them in turn. “None of you are wholly human. Unless I’m mistaken… one of your ancestors was a dragon from the Infernal Mountains, her ancestor was a snow maiden from the far south, her ancestor was a were-panther, and the youngest of you lot has… ah, yes, I’d say werewolf with a hint of something more exotic… hmm… silver eyes… perhaps one of the Watchers of the Dark?”

Yang shivered, and she felt more than saw the others recoil. Whoever this woman was, her senses were unnaturally keen. No one should be able to tell things like that at first glance.

“Now, what to do with you?” The woman gestured and the shoggoth extruded tentacles to lift them up into the air. “I have half a mind to give you to Barry there. He’s been doing a lot of good work, and he does prefer blondes.”

Yang’s eyes widened in horror. There were all sorts of rumours about shoggoths and their proclivities…

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” the woman said. “The only thing Barry is interested in is eating you. Don’t ask me why, but he thinks blondes taste better. I’ve tried asking him, but he says it a shoggoth thing.” She chuckled. “All those stories you’ve heard are just that. If you want to make more shoggoths, the only way to do it is with the correct materials and a really, really big pit to mix them all in.”

Yang wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was a relief to know that the more… horrifying stories she’d heard weren’t true, but being eaten wasn’t exactly pleasant either.

“Luckily for you four,” the woman continued. “I happen to know who you are. Now, as the grandmaster of an extremely ancient and malevolent cult, I could very easily murder the lot of you. It’s what people would expect. However, I don’t particularly enjoy murdering reasonably decent people, and your families would likely seek retribution. So what to do…?” She laughed. “Winter, what would you suggest?”

One of the cultist stepped forward and pulled back their hood. It was Winter Schnee.

“%@^@&@*!” The woman who had defeated them spoke again. “You can speak now, but I encourage you to be sensible. I will silence you again if I need to.”

Weiss was the one who spoke. “But… but they told me you were dead!”

Winter laughed mirthlessly. “Our father told you that, I assume. I’m not surprised.” She paused and glared balefully at something none of them could see. “You know our family has long had… dealing with otherworldly entities. Our father took that to the next level, Weiss, and when his foolishness resulted in the loss of one of our most important facilities, he tried to cover it up.” She bared her teeth. “He was even willing to sacrifice one of his children to do it. Luckily, the grandmaster was able to save me and a few of my troops. In exchange, Weiss, she has my loyalty.”

“But… they’re a cult!”

“We prefer the term ‘mystically-inclined organisation,” the grandmaster said. “And, really, we’re more like a company that just happens to deal mostly in apocalyptic beings from other dimensions. In any case, you four have a simple choice.” She paused for effect. “You can either join us… or die!” The cackling that followed chilled all four of them to the bone. “And by die, I mean Barry gets to eat you all.” The flying thing made of eyes and teeth gave a keening wail. “Well, he gets to eat two of you. Mickey gets the other two.”

Winter sighed. “With all due respect, grandmaster, Weiss is my sister. I would have her live.”

“We are sort of a super secret cult, Winter. We can’t just let her go.”

“Could you wipe their memory?”

“Yes, but that might also melt their brains.” The grandmaster paused as the space beside her bent and tore.

A roiling mass of flaying tendrils and crystalline shards lit from within by captured star fire tumbled out of the hole in space and slithered up the grandmaster’s robes before resting on her back. The warped flesh quivered and twisted until it was a vaguely humanoid shape the size of a young child. Eyes and spikes appeared, and the creature made an odd trilling sound before reaching up to pet the hamster on the grandmaster’s shoulder. It made another trilling sound and then jabbed one barbed appendage in the direction of the four teenagers.

“Hmm… it seems you four are in luck.” The grandmaster nodded sagely. “The Exalted One wants you to live.”

Yang stared. “Exalted One?”

“Yes, you might know her as the Endless Hunger, That Which Devours, the Ceaseless Eater, or also as That Which Shall Consume Creation.” The grandmaster chuckled and ruffed the spikes protruding from the creature’s head fondly. “She’s still got a lot of growing to do, but, hey, that’s what the cult is for. Besides, if she’s anything like her parents or her big sister, it won’t be long before she’s razing entires swathes of Creation in tides of absolute devastation and annihilation.”

“What does she want with us?” Yang asked. She knew what that creature was now…

“Company, mostly,” the grandmaster said. “She likes collecting things, and, well, she doesn’t have anything quite like you four in her collection yet.”

“I don’t suppose we can refuse, can we?”

“Look on the bright side,” the grandmaster replied. “You’ll get to go about your daily lives… just… she might turn up to hang around at any time. We’ll be there too, of course, for security. But, yeah, you all get to live.” She paused. “I shouldn’t have to say this, but just to be clear, if you tell anyone about us, you’re going to regret it.” The grandmaster cackled again. “Cuddles will make sure of it.”

“Your hamster?”

“Have you heard of the Prison of Angles?” The grandmaster patted her hamster. “Cuddles is a Warden there. If you betray us, you’ll be stuck there, for, oh, I don’t know, several trillion years.”

“Oh…” Yang shivered. “I guess we’ve got no choice.”

“Exactly.” The grandmaster clapped her hands, and the shoggoth dropped all of them. The creature on her back immediately slunk forward and began to poke and prod them before deciding that it was going to sit on Yang’s head. “Oh, and don’t try to move her. She’ll get off your head when she feels like it. But let me know if she starts trying to eat you. I’ll talk her out of it, especially since she’ll be upset about it later. She never does like eating part of her collection, and even if her big sister can bring you back, it won’t be pleasant.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

A couple of things:

The grandmaster is Vanille

This is set well after the earlier snippets

The creature on Vanille’s back that wants to add Yang and the others to her collection is… Diana. Even at her age, she is vastly more powerful than anything that isn’t one of her parents, siblings, or an equivalent.

Barry the shoggoth is Vanille’s favourite shoggoth. He’s unusually loyal and motivated for a shoggoth, and Vanille likes to keep him well fed. She has high hopes for him evolving into an Ur-Shoggoth, which is basically like the ultimate form of a shoggoth. Incidentally, he was the second shoggoth she summoned. The first one tried to eat her, so she had Barry eat him.

#eldritch entity #fanfiction #oerba dia vanille #yang xiao long #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake beladonna #winter schnee #mr cuddles #diana yun-farron

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ciceroprofacto · 7 years

Note

Tallmadge, I. (Broken glass) for the meme

Read First: Tinderbox

September 20th 1777

“My cleaning oils are moved- they were here when I left-” Hamilton pushed his papers aside, expecting to find the small memo pad he’d kept his vital cypher key on- “it’s gone…I locked it, it’s-…did…” he picked up the case, jumping to his feet. “Did you open my box?!”

“I…” John stared at him, slack-jawed, blue eyes infuriatingly innocent until they narrowed. “Why do you mind if I opened it?”

It was not a response- not one that Alexander could bear, knowing he’d trusted Laurens to carry his things, to share a tent and share a bed and know his desires…god damn him, he trusted Laurens. That realization was horrifying. If he’d misjudged this…“Did you!”

“Alex-”

A feral noise left his throat and without thinking, Hamilton was swinging the box at John’s chest, jumping on him and pinning his arms to the bed. “Did you open…my stationary box?”

John strained his neck back, “I did.”

Grabbing his collar, Alex hauled their faces close, “What did you take?”

“I don’t know! What?”

“You took it-”

“I didn’t take anything!” he insisted, and Alex wasn’t sure whether to be more confused with the answer or his own inclination to believe it. “Hamilton, what’s this about? I was just reading your notes-”

“What?”

“About Sullivan!” John’s hands on his wrist were warm and gentle, pulling them to release him and Alex obeyed it distractedly. “I wrote a draft of the testimony so you’d read it, I…I’m sorry I did that, but…I didn’t touch anything else in your box, I just brought it in from the cart that came from Birmingham-”

Alex sat back, seeing only honesty on John’s face. He glanced down at himself, straddled over John’s lap like the most natural thing in the world. “You’re sure you didn’t…”

“I didn’t steal from you! I swear it.”

“Was anyone else with you?”

“Major Tallmadge helped me unload everything, but I didn’t see him open your box,” John said, watching him with interest as Alex pushed up from his lap and started moving back through the tent to redress.

“No, of course you wouldn’t,” he said. So Tallmadge had taken the cypher to start his work. Alex knew he was eager to be a spymaster, that he had considered Alexander’s work in New York an inspiration… that he hadn’t known how those words would cut when he’d said them, “I’ll strangle him.”

“Tallmadge stole something from you?” Laurens leaned forward with that charming concernment on his brow. “Something important?”

Alexander buttoned his vest, “No…but someone should have told me before he borrowed it.” He grabbed his coat, “We’ll use your draft of the testimony, I’m sure it’s brilliant…”

…

Tallmadge was exactly where Hamilton had expected him- doing exactly what Alexander had thought he would be doing. Cypher open by his elbow, his back was turned in his tent, candles lit and hunched over his desk. Hamilton threw open the tent flaps loudly, letting his anger rise in him like a tide, fully prepared with a lecture about meddling in another man’s things without his permission- until Tallmadge’s shoulders started shaking.

He hunched over further and Hamilton stepped in quickly, grabbing the man at the crease of the neck to sit up upright. Alexander was expecting an injury, unprepared for the tears on Tallmadge’s cheeks- or the blood on his hand.

Glancing down, it was quickly obvious what had happened. A bottle of whiskey with a broken neck, Tallmadge had dropped the shattered half with the cork at the top of his desk and drank from the smooth edge, cutting his hand at some point in his own sloppy drunkenness.

Alexander maneuvered to his front, grabbing his face in both hands until the other man looked up to meet his eyes blearily. It wasn’t like Tallmadge to drink at camp. He’d held a field post and had always been professional, but…the season- autumn…Hamilton wasn’t sure the exact date it was today, but they had to be close…

Tallmadge winced at his face, and for a moment Alexander forgot that he wouldn’t know why he truly should hate to see him. There had been a time he’d been close to… something comforting with Tallmadge, something like friendship, but that growing affection had quickly snapped, the taught drop of a noose.

“The report?” he slurred.

“What?”

“Did you bring the report?” Tallmadge said, eyes watering freely.

Alexander ignored that question the way he’d stowed the guilt when he’d returned to camp after his ride into New York, understanding his own role in this grief. He’d understood it then… that there’s more than one way to destroy a man.

“I need to bandage your hands…” he said

Major Burr was eyeing the tavern with hesitation- which they really didn’t have the time to be indulging. “I shouldn’t have mentioned Greene wanted this-”

“You think I’m suggesting this for Greene?” Hamilton said.

Burr gave him a withering look as if he could see the strange urge in Alex’s chest to please the general who had invited him to lunch, gifted him a copy of Marcus Aurelius and praised his military promise…

It wasn’t like that. As impatient as Hamilton was to get on with this and get his company moving to Harlem, he hadn’t forgotten his rank and he needed the Major’s approval to carry out this plan. “Greene’s not the only one you said suggested we burn it, right? Jay and Livingston and Washington himself- the army wants this-”

“But Congress doesn’t,” Burr said shortly, and when that didn’t seem to have any sway over Hamilton’s resolve, he made a jab at morality, “Isn’t there a saying- two wrongs don’t make a right?”

“I’m sure this will be far more than two…”

Tallmadge was staring at him while he cleaned out the cut in his palm, brows knit, and if his eyes were a lighter shade of blue- something a little more innocent, Alexander would see John’s coloring- crying with the report that Alex had drowned in the river…

He wondered if Ben ever actually bought the line Washington had instructed him to spread, one life to lose, or if he’d known his friend too well for that.

What it must be like to know someone like that…

“Did you tell anyone you’re here?” Stoker said, voice hushed even though they were safely tucked in the tavern’s storage cellar.

“No…that would be stupid…” Alex said, incredulous that it even bore asking with the risk of what he was proposing, but then, Stoker knew him solely for his less-than-genius decisions, so perhaps the question wasn’t without merit. Still, “you know I hate doing something stupid unless I choose to.”

“And your man outside…?”

“Burr. I didn’t tell him who I was meeting- just that I could find him here. He doesn’t know you.”

“And he won’t…”

“Christoph-”

“Don’t ‘Christopher’ me!” Stoker snapped. “Why should I do this? You’re asking me to burn down my father’s tavern- sacrifice my own inheritance!”

“I understand that this is hard for you,” Alex said, tearing a strip of cloth from Tallmadge’s camp blanket to wrap his palm. “I understand why you wanted to work for Washington and establish an intelligence department- I understand all of that,” he said.

Ben wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“But, I can’t tell if you…” Alex hesitated to say this for how vulnerable it would make him feel, talking about things he himself couldn’t touch- would never be worthy of touching, “I don’t know if you really appreciate what you had.”

Ben looked at him, appalled.

Alex dropped his gaze to the hand he was wrapping, “I mean, I sincerely doubt that Nathan would want you to spend years mourning him. I think he’d be proud of the steps you’re taking to improve the work he started, but…right now, it just seems like you’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

He tied a knot over Tallmadge’s palm and the man pulled his hand away quickly.

Alexander sat back and leaned one arm on the desk, “Everyone dies at some point. Some of us are lucky enough to die in remarkable ways. Nathan was one of those people and we made sure he wouldn’t be forgotten for it. But…before he did that, you had the privilege of knowing him- perhaps…” he searched Ben’s face for a moment, the errant curls that had escaped his queue from raking his hands through his hair in agitation, “perhaps loving him.”

Tallmadge stood abruptly and turned his back, took two clumsy steps and he dropped to sit heavily on his cot.

Alex watched from a distance as Ben buried his face in his hands, and he gave him a moment before he continued, “What you’re feeling right now- this pain, it’s good,” he said. “It means you’re alive and sensible. We risk more than our lives to fight a war, to expose ourselves to the kind of endless violence, we’re risking our sensibility- our capacity to remain vulnerable to grief because it’s easier to run away from something painful than it is to let ourselves care about something so vulnerable as another person’s life.”

Ben’s shoulders were shaking again and Alexander had the feeling he was making things worse- he was never much good at talks like this, but still-

“Grief over a fallen friend is good when we use it to fuel meaningful work, to drive us to higher accomplishment in their honor. But, it’s when you roll over and pity yourself, try to drown your grief in liquor or self-inflicted pain…that’s a good way to waste their death.”

Alexander hadn’t chosen for Hale to die, and he certainly hadn’t planned to undermine his mission, but he had decided that the fire was necessary- the best outcome to salvage a total loss. Hale had paid the price of that decision.

He picked up the broken cork of the whiskey bottle, turned it over in his hands…

“Your inheritance?” Alex scoffed. “You hate this place. If you were opposed to burning it down, you would’ve turned me out already…”

Stoker crowded him angrily, “Then, tell me why should I trust you? After last time I did you a favor-”

“I got you the money!”

“After you lost the purse!” Hamilton opened his mouth to protest, but, “Twice!”

“So, you don’t trust me.”

“Of course not!”

“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” he said. But, this earned an angry, impatient look, and Alexander could feel the seconds ticking away before he’d be thrown out by force. It was a lot to ask- and anger was understandable, but Stoker was a patriot. He should really be eager to do this- grateful for someone offering to cover his tracks. But, Alexander could see that it would take payment of some kind, “How can I show you this isn’t a trap?”

“Collateral,” Stoker said. “I’ve gotta know you won’t turn me over to the reds for this- and when the fighting’s over- whoever wins, I’ve gotta know my name doesn’t leave your mouth.”

It was reasonable. Alexander was already a rebel to the crown, but Stoker still had a life to lose in that regard. Alex didn’t have anything to offer, so he shook his head, “It would be your word against mine…”

“A patriot officer turning over a citizen who did them a favor- whose word is more believable?” Stoker growled, but Alexander was failing to contrive anything better, losing his space to negotiate. “Then there’s your friend outside-”

Right…Major Burr. The evacuation. His company. “There isn’t time for this!” Alex said, frustration expanding into disgust and disappointment, haughty, righteous desperation. “What if I give you a crime of equitable severity to hold over me?”

“A crime?”

“Something where the punishments would be the same. Equal collateral. So if I gave anyone your name, you’d have something to hold over me. Would you do it?”

A sharp nod.

So, then a crime that Alexander could prove- he had an arsenal of stories to incriminate himself, lists of thefts and scandals, even a murder, but no evidence he could trade as proof. It would have to be…

Something he could do here- something…

He drew a deep breath. “As soon as the last of my men have cleared the city, I’ll give you a signal…” he said, meeting Stoker’s eyes with a steady forcefulness. This payment would seek satisfaction, and if this fire didn’t destroy everything the British might take from their seizure of his city, Alexander would be back for blood…he promised himself that.

Then he dropped to his knees.

This part of the bottle still had a trace of Tallmadge’s blood on it.

Stoker had broken a bottle like this over Alex’s head that night. He recalled the rest of the affair with blurred memory, swirling in the color of that red liquid. Stoker had been disgusted with his advances- of course. But, that had been a requirement of the crime- that Alexander was the only ‘willing’ party to the act. That his target resisted it fervently and the sodomite monster forced his vile perverted ways onto him…no matter how Stoker had enjoyed it in reality- how he’d pushed Alex to take more.

Returning to the city, returning to that tavern and facing Stoker again to get the answers only he could give about the aftermath of the destruction, it was clear that the hatred hadn’t faded. Not only for the guilt he now carried, but also for who Alexander was…what he was.

The anger and violence was familiar. Men who enjoyed the payment a little more than they were prepared to, panicking and lashing out. Alex always wondered what made them hate him so much- whether it was the fact that they’d had to trade for the treatment, or maybe disgust with anyone who could perform such a debasing act, but he suspected it had very little to do with him personally and much more with how much they hated themselves for enjoying it.

He wasn’t sure if he hated himself. In general-no, he did not, but in these moments there was not much he liked either.

Tallmadge had stretched himself out on his cot and seemed half-way to sleep already, so Alexander set the bottle aside in pieces and picked up his cypher, standing up to leave before-

“Don’t go…”

He turned.

Ben was sitting up on his elbows, staring at him with an echo of that… something that had almost existed between them. A moment passed and Alexander blinked at him. Then Ben scooted to one side of the cot and settled back down on his side. An obvious invitation- which Alex approached slowly. Putting one knee to the cot, he hesitated, then Ben pulled up his blanket for him, and Alex let himself sink under the covers…let the other man pull him close and put his face quietly into his shoulder.

Alexander lamented the opportunity to share John’s bed tonight. He’d been looking forward to repeating the strange contentedness he’d found in pushing his back flush to John’s chest, but there was no use dwelling on that. He had created this wound, had ordered the fire into existence- necessary as it was, but Nathan Hale had paid the price, and Tallmadge deserved to heal.

He put his arm around him and tucked his face into Ben’s hair.

#tw: transactional sex #mention #nothing graphic #I promise #not even worth an age warning #ficlet #set in chapter 5 #SOA #Song of Alexander

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