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alfredosauce50 · 2 years

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What makes me human

[Cyberpunk! America x reader] 6

(remastered)

Wordcount: 3, 286 Rating: M for strong language and gore Chapter synopsis: Alfred takes you to the Afterlife to get intel on the heist from an old friend. Meanwhile, Allen is conflicted about the mission he’s assigned, so he looks for an old friend and mentor for advice. When he speaks to him, he realizes something fishy about the task. Especially about Alfred, the man he is meant to kill. When he digs around for more information about him, he stumbles across his company’s darkest secret.

Bloodlines

He was barely a stranger, someone you had no place to care about. But what happened to him was so horrific, your reaction would have been universal. Non-consensual body modification—to take what can’t be replaced, to violate what everyone had a God-given right to. You wouldn’t wish it upon your worst enemy, and Alfred was far from it.

“I’m sorry.” You gripped the balcony, eyes burning with remorse. It was all you could manage as you stared holes into the ground.

“It’s not your fault.” He turned his head away.

“Listen—”

“—I just wanted to say it.”

He suppressed a frown while he spoke, but the pain was unmaskable. It was in his voice, and hearing it radicalized you to what you thought impossible.

“I’ll do it.” You looked him in the eye. “I’ll help you.”

What he saw in your company, you were beginning to. There was a darkness you didn’t want to believe, something sinister beyond your comprehension. Of all the secrets you would uncover, Alfred’s would be the first—his story, from the beginning to the end.

The job was easy enough. Everything sounded more technical the way Mizumoto put it, but all Allen took away from that conversation was this. Let the guy walk in and out. So straightforward, so simple. But that was what made everything so complicated.

When something sounded too good to be true, it probably was. To throw you into the mix didn’t sit well with him, either. But then again, you were always involved, one way or another.

He drove further South, watching the lush parks and skyscrapers fade into dingy residential complexes. Rich corpos lived where he did, up North, but this was where he really came from. Allen passed a basketball court, a McDonald’s, then a Seven-Eleven. He never thought he’d say it, that he missed the smell of these parts. Smog, grease, human waste. You walked these streets; you stank like them too. The scent was long gone from his clothes, but he wouldn’t mind topping it up again.

He made a right turn before accelerating towards a single-story building. The double garage was open, letting him pull inside of it. He poked his head out of the window, instantly at ease from the familiarity of his surroundings. A quaint little repair shop he had the privilege of working for. Stepping out of his Alvarado, he approached the car occupying the space adjacent. A pair of legs stuck out the bottom.

“Got time for another?” Allen began, sliding his fingers into the front pockets of his pants.

“Yeah, just give me a tic.” A minute later, the mechanic slid out on his car creeper. He had short, choppy blonde hair framing a roundish face, which was marred by engine oil and disdain. “Oh. You. Here to check if my business has gone under yet?”

It was Arthur, a former teacher, friend, and his soon-to-be killer if he didn’t word things right.

“You still hung up about that?” Allen sighed.

“Still?” The other scoffed. “I don’t think ‘still’ can be applied here. Not as long as I have to work ten hours to put food on the table because someone—” They slapped his shoulder with a rag. “—went off to work for a bunch of suits and became a class traitor.”

“Can we not talk about this?” He grumbled.

Every time he dropped by, the topic would be the same. And the man always sounded crankier than the last time. But it wasn’t exactly undeserved.

“Right, right, of course.” Arthur nodded, cleaning his hands with the rag. His voice dripped with sarcasm, making Allen wince. “So, what are you really here for? I don’t suppose to give me a hand, will you?”

“Not really, no.” He bent down and picked up some spare parts before someone could trip on them. When he straightened up, he had a wrench in hand. Giving that a small toss, he added this sheepishly. “But I can stick around for a bit. How ya been?”

“Same old.” Arthur tossed the rag to the side.

While he was stuck in this greasy, hole-in-the-wall repair shop fixing other people’s accidents, Allen was out in the streets. He couldn’t say he wanted what he had, living life in the fast lane, but it must’ve been nice to be in an ivory tower above it all.

“Nothing really changes down here. What about you? Have any exciting mission impossibles lately?”

“I wouldn’t call them exciting.” Allen watched the man pull a stool over. Before he got further into it, he fished out a cigarette and wedged it between his lips. He licked the paper, letting the bitter taste envelope his tongue. “And it’s not like it’s happened yet.”

Arthur raised a brow, never taking his gaze off of him as he sat down. This was certainly a change of pace. His protégé usually enthused him about his work after it was over. It was really fitting for his character, a do first, think later type of guy.

“Don’t suppose you’re here for my advice, are you?”

Whatever had him stumped must’ve been something. And he was about to find out what.

“I don’t know.” Allen lit the end, shielding the tiny flame with his hand. When he glanced up for an absent stare, he blew out a jet of smoke. “Maybe.”

“Come on, a maybe? You’re not here to help me, so it’s gotta be the other way around.” Arthur stood up.

“Or we could just hang out like normal people.”

“Oh, but you always want something.” The blonde folded his arms. “So, what do you want?”

“Can’t keep a secret around you, can I?” He furrowed his brows. Thinking about his circumstances was hard enough, but saying it? He put out his cigarette and flicked it into a bin. “It’s my boss.”

Arthur stared in silence, beckoning him to continue.

“He offered me something I can’t say no to. I just don’t like that (F/N) is involved.” He hung his head, face darkening. And yet, anger could hardly begin to describe what he was feeling.

He couldn’t be bought with money, only opportunity. He couldn’t be tempted by women, only love. You encompassed both of those things, the pathway to everything he could want in life. And to hold that over his head made him feel like he had no control over anything in his life. “He’s using her against me.”

“How?”

“He wants me to kill a guy. Said he’d give me everything I could ever want for it.” His gaze fell to the floor. Blood flushed his cheeks, and he wished he could say it was from embarrassment. But he could never be ashamed of you. “She’s all I ever wanted.”

“Did he say it explicitly?”

“Yeah, no, well, he basically said it.” Allen shrugged. “Said he’d give me his blessings. You know what that sounds like? Marriage. I don’t believe in marriage, but I bet sure as hell he does. He’s traditional as.”

“Right,” Arthur murmured. He hadn’t heard much, but he was already suspecting foul play. Giving away your daughter in exchange for someone’s murder? “Looks like you’re onto something. Why would he put something like that on the table if not to lure you in?”

“Fuck. So, do I do it or what?” He huffed.

“I don’t know, who’s the guy you have to off?”

“Some psychoterrorist.”

Alfred took you to a club. Afterlife, the heart of the city. It was a cross between a country-western bar and a motorcycle guild hall. It wasn’t somewhere you would take your mom to, that was for sure.

“I need you to meet somebody,” He told you, keeping a hand on your back. Gothic rock played in the background, and over that was the occasional shouting. “They’ll tell you everything you need to know about the chip. How to find it, anyway.”

“Okay,” You turned to him. Your wariness grew by the second, listening to the loud clamoring in the back. “What about you? Aren’t you doing this with me?”

“Of course I am,” Alfred frowned, darting his eyes over face. He’d never seen you so afraid. “Think of it like a stealth mission. You open doors for me and I just have to take what I need when we get there.”

“Then what about the talk?”

This place was infamous for its merc clientele—not a single patron here was on the right side of the law: fixers, solos, hired guns, and all of them industry professionals who had every right to be here.

Alfred was one of them, you weren’t.

To everyone else, you were just a piece of meat. Especially when he insisted that you wore short shorts and a white tank to ‘fit in.’ Whether you made the cut wasn’t important. You just had to look ordinary, like your last name wasn’t Mizumoto.

“I’ll be in the room with you,” Alfred assured. He let out a light chuckle when you kept glancing around, restless from your surroundings. “Don’t worry. I trust him. I’ve done a few jobs for him, so he’s straight.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” You sighed. Walking deeper into the club, you passed section after section.

The front near the entrance was The Antechamber. Next, was The Crypt. A surly man slammed someone else against the wall in a chokehold. You flinched. Alfred held out an arm and moved you behind him.

This was Hades. The darkest and most dangerous section of the club, swarming with combat veterans and people who didn’t give a fuck. He covered you with his body while he walked, only slowing down when he arrived outside a private room.

“Sorry I can’t hold your hand while you’re in there.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not teasing you.” Alfred gave you one last look. He lifted the beaded curtain after the bouncer gave him a nod, a simple yet hard-earned gesture. “Doesn’t do to be close to anyone in the business.”

He wasn’t wrong, but the implications were a mystery. Your relationship with him was an enigma. Whatever it was, you were relieved to have him around—even if you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“Alfred,” A man greeted. He had long, copper brown hair tied in a low ponytail, and his eyes were as red as blood. He was seated at the center of a U-shaped couch, legs wide-apart. There was an alluring air to him, something dark in how he presented himself.

“Sup, Zao.”

He was the top fixer around these parts.

In Layman’s terms, a middleman between clients and mercenaries. Being so well-connected, he knew the coming-and-goings in the streets, a sort of information broker, if you will. Fixers offered jobs for mercs, keeping this corner of the black market alive.

“You said you needed a way to get past security.”

When Zao turned to look at you, his eyes went wide.

“Meet my friend.”

A psychoterrorist, Allen said.

If that ‘psycho’ part wasn’t an exaggeration, he was up against the bane of everyone’s existence.

“Is he…?”

“A cyberpsycho?” He raised his brows, his voice no higher than a whisper. It made him sick just thinking about it, that he left someone like that with you.

It was a mental illness with a body count.

Cybernetic enhancements came with a hefty price of your sanity. After all, metal and flesh aren’t supposed to go together. The more your body wasn’t yours, the less you associate with it. You start losing yourself. You identify more with machines than people.

Your self-preservation decays. You stop eating, sleeping, and having sex. Human interactions become irritating. As you move down the slippery slope of madness, you start feeling superior to regular people. Somewhere down the line, contempt turns into violence, then a complete disregard for life.

“Let’s hope the fuck not.” He uttered nervously.

Mizumoto told him it was impossible for Alfred to turn cyberpsycho, but he hated taking chances.

“Asshole had a field day back at headquarters, though. It was like open season for us poor bastards.”

“I can see why he would offer his daughter’s hand for killing them,” Arthur noted, visibly uncomfortable.

“Right,” Allen scoffed. Be that as it may, he was still unhappy about the arrangements. Involving you should’ve made him stupid from eagerness. And for a short period, it did. He remembered running into the family vault, looking at a future within his grasp.

“I just don’t wanna do something I can’t back out from. Killing someone.” He murmured.

“You said so yourself he was a terrorist.” Arthur quipped, studying the other’s pensive expression.

“Good idea, bad execution.” Allen sighed, throwing his head back. “It’s not my place to decide what’s good for the world. I have something going for me, he’s just another punk. He doesn’t have shit to lose.”

“You’re siding with a terrorist, now?”

“No! It’s just the fact that I have to be bribed makes me think there’s more to it than we know.” He shot back. A silence ensued. The truth was finally out, and it was sobering. “I don’t wanna kill someone because of the reward. It’s like I’m missing something.”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but never got to it. Allen wasn’t just reeling, he was in pain.

“I don’t wanna look at her and be reminded of everything I had to do.” He let out, voice faint.

“Then don’t kill him.” Arthur finally answered. The redhead stared at him like he was crazy. “Or do. But if you do, you have to be absolutely sure about it. And it can’t have anything to do with her. Or anybody else, for that matter. Make it something you chose.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“Look into him.”

The next day after work, he snuck into the security room. Dead in the night when nobody was around, he could do this undetected. When he got inside, tens of blank screens reflected his focused expression while he booted the system on. A tiny camera sprouted like a plant; it was an eye detector.

He leaned into it, letting it scan his iris.

“Welcome, Allen.” A female automated voice spoke. The camera tucked itself away. Here, in all its glory, was a complete database of information, past and present. His job came with a few perks, this being one of them. He typed in the exact date of the fateful day he first crossed paths with Alfred.

4th of July, 2074.

“Start with what you know,” Arthur had told him. His voice replayed in his mind while he sifted through an entire library of videos. He remembered that day like it was yesterday, but this jogged his memory pretty damn good. “Or what you think you do.”

youtube

Thirty-one counts of murder and the most severe case of property damage the city had ever seen. Allen practically gagged seeing heads roll all over the place, and literally. One would’ve thought someone of his affiliations could handle gore, but a glimpse of it could make his stomach churn.

“You make the decision if he deserves it.”

What he saw should’ve been more than enough justification to go through it, killing him like he should’ve done three years ago. And yet, he pushed on, fueled by a suspicion that there was still more. More to the eye, more to the reason why you were roped into the mix, again and again.

What he didn’t understand was how he broke into the building in the first place. All the doors were shut, and he couldn’t fit in the vents. It was a question he didn’t think relevant, but he was desperate for answers. And every slither of truth could bring him one step closer to the light. Who was Alfred?

The only lead he had was his earliest appearance.

He was leaving a room and into a dim hallway at around seven in the evening. He was running. Either from, or to something. But judging from walls of the place, it must’ve been one of the underground floors.

So, he went to investigate.

Shutting off the system, he left without a trace of ever being there. He went straight for the private elevator. Allen hovered a finger over the buttons before pressing the one that would get him into the most trouble—the bottommost floor that supposedly housed the company’s prototypes.

It didn’t take long for the elevator to stop, then for the doors to slide open. When they did, a void of darkness was all there was. He loaded up his night vision. Then, he walked into death’s embrace.

The shapes and outlines made this identical to the hallway he saw in the footage. Before he celebrated too early, he opened the door Alfred was seen getting out of. Immediately, he was bombarded with the smell of death, somebody’s last breath.

Someone had been rotting in the room for a while.

Allen covered his nose with his sleeve and grimaced. The stink was unbearable, but he walked in anyway.

If secrets had a scent, this was it.

The room was mostly empty, save for two box-like shapes in the distance. The closer he was, the clearer the image became. There were two, one of them he recognized to be some kind of pod. He was never tech-savvy, so he could only guess what it was.

A cryosleep pod? If he was right, what could the company be doing with a cryosleep pod?

He knew he shouldn’t touch what wasn’t his. It was something he had to get good at working in a place like this. But he got this far, and the curiosity was eating away at him. So he gave in, opening what should’ve stayed closed. He asked the question he now wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

He lifted the hatch while pinching his nose.

And what he saw would stay with him for as long as he was alive. Because what was inside wasn’t.

The explosion of steam dissipated to reveal a mummified body, brown and well into the process of decomposition. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach as every fiber of his being froze in terror. Yet, he stared wide-eyed at the corpse’s face, mouth wide agape, hypnotized by the sight of death.

As much as he hated it, he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away. While its eyes were closed, there couldn’t possibly be anything inside them. Just empty eye sockets. The thought made him gag again.

What the hell happened to this guy?

The only thing that snapped him out of this fearful trance was his sudden urge to vomit. He shut the hatch and leaned over to hurl. Before he could, he forced it all down, swallowing the hot acid and burning his throat. If he’d let anything out, he’d leave too many traces. But God, was it difficult.

He couldn’t bear to stay here any longer.

Turning on his heel before making a beeline to the door, he scrambled to the elevator and slammed his hand against the buttons like his life depended on it. While he stood there with wet, clammy hands against the wall, he hyperventilated until he was light-headed. Even then, it wasn’t enough to take his mind off what he saw. The sight of a rotting body would be ingrained in his mind forever.

Who was he? Why was he there?

What was Alfred doing in there?

From the brief moment he saw the corpse, he noted the blonde hair that stayed on its head. He hoped it was just a coincidence, but a part of him believed otherwise. So what the hell happened in there?

Next chapter: The power of belief

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it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream · 3 years

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Silva Lining (Saul Silva x Reader) Chapter 11

Warnings: Mentions of infant death

Word Count: 1.8k

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-19 years ago-

As per usual, Farah was bored. She was home in the kingdom of Solaria and once again her family were throwing another ball. Of course she had to be there, she was part of the royal family after all. Her sister was Queen Luna Star, she couldn’t make the family look bad by ditching the event, especially as it was held in her honour.

Big ball dresses and small talk wasn’t her thing. This was temporary however. Soon Farah would be going back to Alfea to take over as Headmistress and she’d finally start living by her own rules. Her mentor and friend Rosalind would be there to guid her and Saul, a friend she had met as a student, would be there as the Headmaster of the Specialists. She couldn’t think of better people to be surrounded with.

There was one upside to the party. People from all over the magic realms had been invited and there was one person in particular that caught Farah’s eye. She didn’t expect things to go the way they did but one thing led to another and she and the mysterious, dark haired stranger found a quiet room in the castle and made love until the rise of the morning sun.

The story goes that she awoke from a dream, a prophecy. The stranger was never seen again and later was found to be the king of the Blood Witches, an enemy to the fairies. Three weeks later and Farah found that she was pregnant. The prophecy was coming true.

“A child, born on a Soul moon, half Fairy, half Witch. Powers bestowed by the Great Dragon, will be the balance between good and evil. The key to the lives of all those who harness power, they are the one true heir to all the lands.”

The former King and Queen of Solaria were ashamed of Farah. Hiding the truth about the pregnancy from everyone. Even her sister Luna kept quiet of the affair, as she did not want anyone else to have claim to the throne, prophecy or no prophecy.

Nine months later and a girl was born. Farah was elated, however there was a dark sinister plot she didn’t know about. The doctors were ordered to do something unforgivable by Queen Luna, under the pressure from her parents. Farah was told that the baby was still born, a spell cast on the newborn to make it seem as if she were not breathing. Farah was inconsolable. Maybe the prophecy wasn’t supposed to come true. But it was.

Queen Luna had a soldier take the baby to the first world and left it on the steps of a hospital, where it would be taken care of as a changeling, nobody the wiser.

Farah grieved for her lost child but finally moved on, becoming Headmistress of Alfea and leaving royalty behind. She didn’t speak to her family, didn’t mention her sister or her lineage to anyone and changed her last name. It was kept a secret so she could live a somewhat normal life. Eventually the story was re-told to her three friends, Ben Harvey, Saul Silva and Rosalind who all swore never to tell a soul.

Farah thought that part of her life was behind her, a mere, sad memory of something that shouldn’t have been. But she was wrong. 18 years later, Saul found a changeling crying in the woods over the body of a burned one. She didn’t know it then but Farah’s life would never be the same again.

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-Y/N’s POV-

Growing up, you’d connected with books like Harry Potter. Something about you could connect with the main character. Treated unfairly over and over by families that were meant to take care of you. No belongings, no friends, a tiny room and worst of all… no parents. You’d sat in your room at nights pouring over the words in your books, imagining the magical life you wished you could escape to.

You wanted a group of friends like Ron and Hermione. The adventures, the power, the fun. Even reading those books would never prepare you for a moment like this. You’d dreamt about the day you found your birth parents, gone over and over the meeting in your head a thousand times. You hadn’t pictured it like this.

You were still in Farah’s office. She was looking at you, tears rolling down her cheeks. You were crying too, what were you supposed to say? You felt like you couldn’t breath. You’d always thought you weren’t wanted, that your parents had just given you up like people give up smoking after new years, but that wasn’t the case at all. She’d thought you were dead. She didn’t know… She didn’t know. You wanted to be mad, be angry but all you could feel was upset and confused.

“I- I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to say, I don’t know… who I am.” You quickly swept the tears from your face and stood, knocking back the chair in your hurry.

“Please don’t run away Y/N, I.. I wanted to tell you sooner but I needed to be sure. I didn’t want to give you false hope and I couldn’t go through losing you all over again.” You wanted to scream, you didn’t know whether to hug the woman in front of you or run for the hills. It was all too much.

“Stella knows doesn’t she, that’s part of the reason Queen Luna took her, she’s my cousin…” You were sobbing again, more like hyperventilating. Saul had bust the door down as soon as her heard your gasps of air. In seconds you were in his arms and he was trying to get you to breath again. Your ears were ringing and you couldn’t concentrate. You just needed to get out of there.

You did the only thing you knew how to do well. You ran, taking Sauls hand in yours, you opened a portal and poof. Both of you disappeared from Headmistress Dowling's office.

Now, the truth is you thought you’d become stronger after all the training and the hard times you been through. But all this drama and truth takes the cake. How could you not run away after that overload of information?

Mums your Headmistress.. check

Dads the king of the Blood Witches…. check

Your future husband is your mothers best friend… check

Your bestfriend is actually your cousin… check

Your Auntie, the Queen of Solaria pretended you were dead and made you a changeling.. check

And to top it all off you were the answer to an ancient prophecy and apparently you were supposed to be the answer to the balance between good and evil. Just another day in the life of Y/N.

Even when you landed through the portal you were still hyperventilating. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Saul was on you again in a flash, trying to calm you down before your powers went haywire. Hey, at least you had an explanation for why they did that from time to time. You were more powerful than you’d ever thought possible.

“Angel, please try and breath, copy me, in and out, it’s okay, I’ve got you, i’m here, look at me. Y/N LOOK AT ME!” Sauls pleading and authoritative voice seemed to snap you from your panic. Your eyes were full of unshed tears and you felt physically drained. His arms came around you and his chin rested on the top of your head. God, you wanted to be mad at him for not telling you but you couldn’t. It wasn’t his place to tell you and you knew that. Plus, being in his arms was the only place you felt safe, you weren’t about to ruin that. You needed Saul more than he would ever know.

You calmed, peeking out of Sauls arms to take in your surroundings. You don’t know why your mind had taken you here, this was the last place you or Saul would probably want to see. Asterdale. The wind swept through your hair and spray from the ocean below dusted your tear streaked face.

“Saul, please, tell me what really happened here. I need to know the truth.” He nodded. You pictured the barrier around the building coming down and a flash of electricity bolted from your hands, the ruins now visible.

“It all started with Rosalind…..” He dove into telling you the truth about what really happened. How Rosalind had lead Farah, Ben and Saul to believe there was no one in the village, burned ones were the only ones left. Apparently Sky’s father had been part of her plan too, he knew the truth and Saul and him had a fight.. ending in Saul killing his best friend Andreas. It was all Rosalind’s fault.. Rosalind, the person Bloom was trying to free from Farah’s spells.

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It had been a few hours of just talking with Saul, laying in his arms, when you both decided to return to the school. By now, people would probably start to wonder where you both were and you didn’t need to make things any more suspicious. It was also still too dangerous to be out in the open like this.

Something about the school looked different to you now. Older, more worn down. Full of lies and secrets hidden in the walls. It was as if she sensed your presence. Farah was waiting on the steps outside, pacing nervously, your friends waiting along side her. You don’t know what compelled you to do it, one minute you were walking next to Saul, the next you were in front of Miss Dowling… your mum, and then you were in her arms. At first she stilled, shocked perhaps, then she hugged you with everything she had in her, tears flowing freely, mixing with your own. It felt right. It wasn’t her fault you were a changeling. If anything, it was just as unfair on her. The baby she was excited to have, was secretly taken away from her and for years she was lead to believe a cruel lie. You were pretty sure you even heard Saul sniffle from behind you.

Your friends had been filled in by Farah, she knew you would need support after the ordeals you’d gone through. There were no words for the shock everyone had experienced today. Yet, you still felt like something bigger was on the horizon.

The burned ones were still a major threat, Bloom was still having dreams about Rosalind, and Beatrix was locked up in some magic stealing cell. Most of all, you had a mother and a father and the King of the Blood Witches, well, he was still out there.

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okay so, this is a short chapter compared to what I usually post, it's more of like a filler chapter but I hope you still like it now you've learnt the story of the Reader and Farah's relationship! Please if you have any thoughts or ideas let them be heard in the comments!!! Please reblog/like/follow <3

CHAPTER 12 ------ CLICK HERE

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the19thduckpotato · 4 years

Text

The Ties That Bind Part 4 (MHA Fanfic)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

In which Tsukauchi arrives and there are consequences.

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Izuku felt Toshinori's bangs come down to tickle his shoulders, and knew he was hanging his head. He tightened his arms around his mentor a little more, whispering, "You're the best person I've ever known...." Before, or after this? The sinister voice was back. Both. He answered firmly, standing up against the sneaking thread of doubt. You Are Wrong. I don't care what mistakes he's made, I love him and I trust him. Even if they're dead? What happens the next time you fight a villain? What happens if you die? Nothing would be safe. Yeah, well... nothing's safe from me, either, if I flipped my lid. Izuku's face was grim, hidden against Toshinori's chest. I'd say I'm in pretty good company. ...Heh. He's better than I am, anyway. If I could be a tenth of what you are, All Might... I'd be so happy. He hugged tighter, rocking back and forth a little. I wish you knew, I wish you could see....

Are you certain he knows? Who could ever witness what he did and still think that? "Fanboy," he chuckled in a strained voice.

"Maybe." A tiny twitch of the mouth. "But I'm right. I know it." His voice was soft and confident. He lifted his head and looked up at his mentor. Still his hero. Always his family. I don't have to like what happened. But I love him more than any of that. And I'm more than a fanboy. He almost wanted to take it back, to shout the thought into submission for daring to claim something so great as his own. But he persisted. It's just... true. I've been given a place here, and I will never leave it. Leave? What does that have to do with anything, you were never going to do that! Well I know, I just meant like... this is forever. Or as long as he wants it, I guess... but he doesn't seem to wanna change his mind anytime soon.

In response, one arm wrapped around the boy, long fingers resting in his hair. "Izuku..." There's so much I need to say and explain and to make up for so you never repeat my mistakes. He hesitantly raised his other hand, to fold his kid in his arms, protect him, even with these hands, to tell him everything. Then his phone hummed softly and he dropped his second hand to fish it out. Tsukauchi. What timing.... "Ok kiddo," he said, guiding Izuku back to his bed once more. "Eat up, rest up, I'll be back later."

When the phone buzzed, Izuku had startled a bit, but he followed Toshinori's guiding and laid back down, relaxing a bit as he leaned back into the pillow. He quickly glanced at the phone's caller ID as Toshinori pulled it out of his pocket. Ah. Tsukauchi. His brain ticked the "Safe" checkbox, and he relaxed further. Ah-- Officer Tsukauchi, I mean. No-- Detective-- wait, do I call him Detective Tsukauchi?? Is that his last name, or his first--? Which is it, oh dear.... He slipped into a stream of confused and dazed wondering, completely forgetting that he didn't need to know just then... and also that he could probably ask Toshinori in a few minutes anyway. His eyes blinked lower and lower, One for All coming back strong again, pulling him back into sleep as he watched Toshinori answer the phone and shut the door. He closed his eyes. I'll just... doze lightly for a minute....

"Over here." Tsukauchi waved Toshinori over to the room the officer stood in front of. "I can give you five minutes. Any more and it starts to look suspicious, even for All Might." Toshinori nodded. "I understand." Tsukauchi caught his friend's hand as it reached for the door. "Before we get started, I just want you to know they're expected to make a good recovery. The thug you hit--" Toshi winced. Tsukauchi, ever the blunt one. He must have noticed because his face pinked but still, he plowed on. "Fortunately, he has a Quirk called Putty. His body is pliable and can be manipulated quite easily so don’t be too alarmed by what you see." At that, Toshi shoved the door open...then stopped short at what he saw. The first man was slumped in a chair, mostly intact other than a few bandages and one bruise. His buddy in the bed was another story. His face was covered with multiple bandages straining to keep his skin together. Blood oozed here and there between sickly colored bruises and swellings. The imprint of All Might's fist was sunk a quarter of the way into the man's face. Like some horrible cartoon physics brought to life, his jaw jutted out to one side. His face was shifted to echo the impact; there were even one or two knuckle dents on the opposite side of his head. Toshi paled and Tsukauchi caught his arm. "I warned you," the cop whispered. "Trust me, he looked a lot worse an hour ago." "Whoff dere?" the bedridden man asked. His friend glanced up at their visitors then jumped from his chair. "Officer, please, don't bring him here! I swear we've told you everything!" "Sit down," Tsukauchi ordered. "If I was going to interrogate you, we'd be down at the station, not here. Instead, All Might has graciously allowed you to--" The bedridden gave a muffled screech of panic as one of his eyes rolled in Toshinori's direction. "NNHH!! NNHHH!!" He tried to roll to the opposite side of his bed. "FREEZE!" Tsukauchi barked and both men complied immediately. The man in the chair trembled, arms over his head protectively. The bedridden man gave a low wail, knowing he couldn't defend himself. The looks of sheer terror froze Toshi's heart. It was one thing if he had been acting within reasonable bounds but this? Not like this... Toshi remained where he was, his reaction lost in the shadows of his face. Tsukauchi glanced at Toshinori then at the other two. "All Might has something he wishes to say." "No, please!" The man in the chair squirmed. "Please, make him go away! Or better yet--" He thrust his wrists out. "Lock me up right now! I'll go willingly, I'll be good, I swear, just--" He tried to look at Toshinori for a moment, the lanky skeleton hiding a demonic giant, what a Quirk, how stupid he had been-- Toshinori met his eyes and the man quailed in his chair. "--please dont make me talk to him." Toshi's mouth parted in faint shock and Tsukauchi felt his friend's hand grip his sleeve. Not good. This is hurting his spirit. "C'mon, friend," he murmured to Toshi. "I've heard all I need to." "No." The single word dangled in the air. The sitting man still shook in his chair, the bedridden man softly whimpering. "Let me apologize." A pause. "Please." "S-sir," the sitting man sputtered. "We were absolutely in th-the wrong, we-we had no business doing w-what we d-d-did--" He whined as Toshinori took a step toward. "Please I'm begging you, make him leave and we'll never breathe a word of this to anyone, I swear it!!" The bedridden hooted his agreement, trying to roll to the opposite side of the bed again. "All right, you boys wait here a moment," Tsukauchi replied as he escorted Toshi from the room. Behind him, both thugs slumped in relief. Tsukauchi grinned. "I should have you work more interrogations with me." Beside him, Toshi made a noise that caused Tsukauchi to put a hand out. "Too soon? I'm just trying to lighten the mood." "Those men..." "Like I said, they're healing just fine." "They shouldn't have ended up there." "Yeah, well, they shouldn't have been breaking the law, either." Toshi frowned at his friend. "I overreacted and they suffered for it." Tsukauchi furrowed his brow back. "Well it's a good thing All Might was out of practice, then." The blond whirled on Tsukauchi, one hand gesturing back at the room. "What if he hadn't had that Quirk? That could have been so much worse!" And the cop patiently stood his ground, staring back at his friend. "You're right. It could have. But it wasn't. Thank the heavens for that and move on. You've done all you can do." "But..." Toshi looked down at his hands. "I know. It's not the answer you want." Tsukauchi sighed and put his hands in his pockets. "But it's the one you're going to get. You have to make peace with that." He reached up and squeezed Toshi's shoulder. "How about you go back to your kid?" Toshi jumped guiltily at that and Tsukauchi half smiled. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Hey," he added. "He's a great kid. You should be proud." "Yeah. He is. He really is." They walked back to Izuku's room in companionable silence. "See you soon, All Might. Hope he gets better quick." The cop waved and strode down the hallway, leaving Toshi alone with his thoughts.

Izuku floated in the dark haze of hibernation once again. He was vaguely aware of a murmuring voice somewhere outside... outside where? Outside... him? Somewhere Else.... Sad voice. Something bad happened. I know. Sleep. Just sleep, Izuku. Okay? Noooo.... He whined, arguing with himself in his mind. I don' wanna.... Why? Dunno. Just don't.

Toshi stood outside Izuku's room. The absolute fear on the thugs' faces burned into his memory. "--please dont make me talk to him!!" With a soft groan, the former Symbol of Peace rested his forehead against the door.

What... was that noise...? Izuku started to breathe faster, his eyes twitching slightly. Wake up.... I wanna wake up.... His heartbeat sped up, and One for All seemed to increase with it, the prickling energy under his skin growing stronger.

Maybe I should just go home. Let him rest. Yeah...

The prickling energy of One for All was almost burning him... it was definitely burning. A low noise escaped from Izuku's throat. "Nnnnnhhhh.h......"

His head rose at the sound from within and he pressed his palm against the door-- Izuku And then the screaming, oh God, the screaming His breath drew short and he stepped back from the door. Yeah, home. I cant hurt anyone there. ...You promised to never leave him, remember? You promised. He sighed. "I'll just check on him, then," he told himself. "If he's asleep, then I'll just come back later." So saying, he pushed the door open and peeked his head in.

Izuku's breathing was fast and heavy, and he shifted uncomfortably, wanting to wake up but trapped in One for All's healing state. He made a tiny noise. All Might... come back... please come back, where are you? Is that you outside? WakeupwakeupWAKEUPIzuku-- what's happening, please let me wake up-- He whimpered, eyes seeming to be glued shut, his thoughts spinning and loud. Help me, please--

Asleep. All right, let's get out of here and-- Something seemed wrong. He didn't like the way Izuku was breathing, the way he thrashed in his sleep. In one step, he was back in the room; two more found him at Izuku's side. "Hey kid," he whispered, brushing back green hair damp with sweat, that cant be right

Izuku’s eyes opened at the cool touch of Toshinori’s hand, but his vision was blurry and unfocused. One for All was still trying hard to pull him into a resting state, but Izuku was fighting harder even as his heavy, sticky eyes fell shut again. I don’t wanna sleep, I don’t— All Might! He belatedly realized. All Might, you’re here, you’re here! A wave of relief swept over him, and one shaky hand made its way to Toshinori’s arm and held on.

"There he is," Toshi chuckled. He pat Izuku's hand reassuringly. "But you should rest. Stop fighting One for All, it's only doing what's best for you."

Izuku made a sound somewhere between a pitiful whimper and a protesting whine. "Nooooo...." He frowned miserably, turning his head, pressing his face into Toshinori's hand. I don't want to... please, it hurts, I don't want to give in... it might get worse.... His burning skin seemed to throb with his heartbeat, every touch of the blankets, of his own limbs when he moved, even All Might's comforting hand felt too rough, too present, too... loud? But-- no, wrong word-- must be, touch isn't... loud.... One for All tried to drag him back to sleep even harder, and he pulled against it one last time, a small, exhausted sob bubbling up from within him as he tried to win a battle with himself he didn't even know why he was fighting.

"H-hey," Toshi stammered, wondering if he should fetch a doctor. "What's going on?" His free hand hovered, unsure what to do, fear mounting up again. Plus side, he told himself with dismal humor, there's no one for you to punch to "fix" things.

"Don'... don' wanna sleep...." Izuku's voice was weak and mumbly, almost more breathing than words. His entire being seemed to grow heavier the harder he fought.

"I'm right here. You're safe. You can sleep." His throat constricted in panic but he only showed Izuku a warm smile.

Izuku heard something off in Toshinori's voice, but the thought was quickly overwhelmed by the feeling of helplessness against his own quirk. He whimpered again, thoughts growing fuzzier.

His teacher knelt down and cupped one hand beside his mouth, toward Izuku's ear. "Hey," Toshi whispered almost conspiratorially at his kid. "I am here! ....to make sure you get taken care of, ok?" He winked and settled back. "You're safe." The two thugs How had they managed to Toshi's other hand dropped below Izuku's line of sight and curled into a fist. you could always go "visit" those two again His jaw clenched and he forced his fist back open. "Young Midoriya, what can I do to convince you to sleep?"

Izuku's inner dialogue had mostly devolved into wanting to cry, fuzziness taking over against all his efforts. He was scared. He didn't understand why, but he was scared. But.... He recalled a blurry version of Toshinori's reassurances. Maybe... maybe it's okay... to sleep.... ...why. why is it okay.... Fear still squirmed in his middle and One for All still pulled him ever deeper, but he forced his mouth open and whispered with clumsy, half asleep lips, "Please... please stay." His hand on Toshinori's arm, now completely limp, slipped off against his will. His last clear thought was a small, frightened Please don't leave

As his scarred hand slipped down to hit the mattress with a soft thud, Toshi's panic spiked. no no no NO no NO Breathe, he's sleeping he's fine calm DOWN STOP PANICKING He took a deep albeit very shaky breath, let it out slowly, burst into coughing, then checked Izuku to make sure he was sleeping. just down the hall Shut up, he snarled at that voice. I'm staying right here. As I've been asked. And for a tiny, frightened moment, he realized Izuku had just saved those mens' lives with his quiet plea.

As he was falling deeper and deeper into sleep, Izuku felt like the was plummeting through the air towards the golden mass of One for All. Falling. With no safety net. And no one that could catch him. His mind gave up a wordless cry of please help me And as he fell, his resistance disintegrating... the burning... eased. A cool peace slowly grew as he stopped fighting, his fears of future pain proving empty. He still fell... a small part of him still felt afraid... but it was closer to a normal, healthy drifting off. His mind-self closed his eyes too, and Izuku finally truly fell asleep. Toshi shifted in his chair, determined to keep vigil for as long as the hospital would allow. as long as those men are here, I will not let them near you you insisted they get medical attention He grimaced and shifted again. Felt his head buzzing a low grade, sleep deprived headache. Decided against laying his head on the bed. Stay awake He moved Izuku's hand to the kid's side and felt a ghostly prickle of One for All reaching out. Sleep. He pulled his hand back and the prickle disappeared. No more contact. I'm staying awake no matter what. to protect him He leaned back in the chair, still struggling to get comfortable and propped his head up on one arm. Watching Izuku and watching over Izuku.

((TBC))

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randomnessunicorn-imagine · 5 years

Note

Hi there! I was hoping I could request a little writing/drabble from you where the female reader and Dukat are in a bit of a sudden argument over something and in the heat of everything, the reader accidentaly confesses that they have romantic feelings for him and...he's actually kind of surprised because he feels the same way about them. If you're not interested or you can't think of anything good, that's quite alright! Thank you~~

{ Uhm, interesting.

I took the liberty of using oneof the bad things happen prompts, because I really want to use them.

Then I have something specific inmind and, honestly, with Dukat I don’t imagine anything good, romantic orhappy, so this story doesn’t have an happy ending.

Here the reader is a Bajoranwoman named Laha Herjea, you can also see her as an OC. It takes place during the occupation of Bajor. Herethe station is still called Terok Nor.

I’m satisfied of this fanfictionand I took several hours to end it so I hope you guys will read and like it. Ihad fun writing it and I needed some angst. Yes, there is a lot of angst here! }

ASK FOR OTHER PROMPTS

Don’t forget to tell me your opinion about and leave a like or share if you liked it, it would make the writer very happy.

Prompt: Grief / Mourning

Challenge by @badthingshappenbingo

Words Count: 4171

Fandom: Star Trek DS9

Pairing: Dukat x Female! Bajoran Reader / Bajoran OC!

Triggers: Cardassian Oppressors, occupation of Bajor, angst, death, suicidal gesture, prisoner. But Dukat acts strangely nice.

– The beauty and the Reptile

~ PART 1 ;

A terrible fate fell on Bajor; afate of terror, destruction and desolation because Bajor wasn’t the planet of atime anymore but something else. It was infected by a virus, it was justdestroyed and usurped like the population who lived here. They had been treatedas slaves, strangers of their own land by the invaders of another planet, theirunexpected oppressors.

Cold-hearted aliens had stolentheir home, plundered their fields, killed their children and abducted theirwomen for their own pleasure, because they just felt superior. The Cardassian,their slavers, felt like real gods, they had even desecrated their temples anddishonoured their Prophets, but the Prophets were still there for Bajor,because nobody would have been able to stole their faith, it was immortal,immense and warm. This was the only thing the Bajoran people possessed, theirfaith in the Prophets.

The end of Bajor seemed near butthere were still people who fought for its liberation, who fought for what theybelieved, for their freedom and faith. Faith for prophets, for life and hope.Things the Bajoran cared a lot, things that had been stolen from them. Someday,they would have taken them back, no matter how hard and painful it could be,they would have won. Someday.

Laha Herjea was one of thosewomen who had been brought to Terok Nor, the space station of the Cardassians,to become the lady-in-waiting of one of them.

Actually, entire groups ofBajoran women had been stolen from their family and conducted there for thesame reason.

She didn’t even want to thinkabout her fate because it didn’t appear bright or worthy to be lived, it seemedterrifying and all the women around her were crying, were lost and scared andsome of them would have wanted to die rather than face this terrible destiny.

Laha didn’t live a long life, shewas only 19 years old when she was taken and brought to Terok Nor.

She lived with her father and herbrothers in a little town in the South of Bajor. Her mother Zaha died when shewas 15 years old because of an illness, while her father Janal was a farmer,just like her big brother Nika. Her other brother Paarya was a professor ofBajoran history and this was the subject she would have desired to study, thepath she would have liked to follow, because she estimated a lot her brotherand she wanted to spread her culture all over the universe. This was her dreambut it had been broken before it could even start.

“What do they want to do withus?” a woman said, looking around.

Laha didn’t know either of thesewomen but she could perceive their fear and preoccupation because she felt thesame feelings but she didn’t say a thing because the question of the woman wasabout to be answered.

A group of Cardassian soldierscame in, their looks were curious, they started scrutinizing the Bajoran womenas predators who were chasing after their prey.

Laha tried not to be scared bythese reptile men and she just looked at the void in front of her, but she wasable to hear the deep breaths of her companions, the way they trembled andsighed.

Some of the Cardassians laughedseeing the young women so terrified and vulnerable until a voice scolded them.

“Sirs, get a hold of yourself!”and then all the Cardassian soldiers became serious, standing at attention,“Can’t you see? These poor ladies are completely uncomfortable. They shouldfeel like home here.”

Another Cardassian man walkedinto the room, he was the possessor of the voice, that rough and severe voicewho was able to stop their laughing.

The man grinned, tall and fierce,admiring the line of women and studying them as if they were kinds of pieces ofart.

Laha supposed he was their bossbecause all the other Cardassians looked at this man with respect and fear,even she felt intimidated from this sinister character.

There was something in his eyesshe could not define, maybe it was lust, a malicious curiosity, or maybe it waspride, the kind of hubris of someone who felt better than anyone else, maybe hetruly felt superior, perhaps even more superior than the other Cardassians,this was the first impression she had of this man.

Soon, she even learnt his name,“I’m Gul Dukat, nice to meet you, my gentle ladies. I’m the one who controls this Station, you can consider me as your mentor, your new family because thisstation will be your new home.” He smiled, “Terok Nor is very big andlonely, and your job is to keep it warm and lively. Don’t see yourself as mereslaves, you’re more than that. You’re guests.”

Yes, guests that had beenkidnapped from their land and given to these malicious and merciless reptiles,she thought, it could not be defined as a gentle act of courtesy.

Dukat appeared veryself-confident, austere but kind in his strange ways but she didn’t trusthim.

Nobody trusted him.

Then he placed his glance on her,Laha didn’t look in the other direction, she just stared, serious and cold. Herlast desire was to lose her integrity and honour because of some Cardassian.

Dukat smiled, and then spoke,still looking in her eyes, “Let’s get to know each other better.”

He still didn’t take his eyes offof Laha, it seemed he was speaking with her and maybe he had already taken hisdecision and in that moment, when Dukat spoke to her, she understood she was inserious trouble.

“What’s your name?” he asked witha soft tone of voice.

“Laha Herjea.” She answered, coldbut polite.

“Oh, such an adorable name.You’re very young.” Then he got closer and raised her chin with his thinfingers, “And very beautiful.”

Dukat caressed her cheek, histouch was cold but soft, and then he moved a lock of her light brown hairbehind her ear.

His grin made her shivering as ifsuddenly the temperature got lower, it was not a pleasant feeling but shenodded, trying to stay calm and do not lose her mind.

Dukat still smiled, something ofhis smile frightened her but also made her wondering what was hidden behindthat mask of charm and self-confidence.

The meeting with the Cardassianslasted ten minutes and everyone left after they all chose their lady-in-waitingand ordered to their Bajoran counsellor –a traitor, she would say- to dress thewomen up in a more decent and delightful way, as if they were real dolls, just little toys that had to satisfyevery kind of fantasy of their oppressors.

Then Laha’s fate was clearer thanbefore, her preoccupation became reality and she just could not escape from thissituation. The only thing she could do was hoping, hoping the Prophets wouldhave given to her the strength not to fall apart.

~ PART 2 ;

Laha had been chosen as Dukat’smaid, he said it was the greatest honour and she was lucky. She had privilegesall the other Bajoran maids didn’t have. She wondered which privileges theywere.

It was her first day of work as maid, she was in his office, he was reading some documents without paying herany attention, and maybe he didn’t even know she was there and that she wouldlike to be somewhere else.

“Oh, sorry, my dear. I was sodistracted by these bureaucracy documents, it’s so boring but job must bedone.” He said, placing his papers on his table, hands joined and his usualconfident smile on his face. Laha found all of this disgusting but she didn’treply.

“I’m such a bad host, I haven’teven offered you a proper meal, you must be hungry.” Then he stood up, reachingthe replicators, “What would you like to eat? Some typical Bajoran plate?Unluckily, I’m not an expert but I could ask to our chef to prepare something specialand real. I don’t really appreciate these food simulacrums. It doesn’t do anyjustice to the original flavours of our dishes.”

Dukat kept speaking, he was agreat talker, and his tone was always so courteous and soft, Laha asked herselfif he was really the person he appeared to be. She didn’t know enough about himyet.

“So, dear Laha, what’s youranswer?” he asked again and then he looked at her, getting closer.

“Honestly, I’m not hungry, atall.” It was a lie but it wasn’t, too. Because her hunger went away the moment shecrossed the door, it vanished and she only was confused and mad. Even if on herface any emotion could be read.

“Are you sure?” he asked,suspicious.

Laha just nodded.

He didn’t appear angry and heseemed understanding, then he asked to his Bajoran Counsellor to accompany Lahato his quarters where she should have prepared herself and waited for him tohave dinner together since it was still morning and he had a lot of work to do.

Laha didn’t like this idea but,at least, he didn’t insist and left her alone.

Dukat’s quarters were very big,comfortable and elegant, they had the typical Cardassian décor but she didn’tcare a lot about it. She still found her out of place.

Then she admired the space out ofthe window and she observed Bajor, her home planet, how beautiful it was fromup there, she thought, and she could not reach it. She could not break thisglass and jump there. Warm tears crossed her cheeks as she contemplated herhome, she sighed, sad and alone. Then she fell on her knees and prayed theProphets to look after her family, to help her people and herself to believe.Help her to be strong and do not give up.

Then she put herself on the couchand she fell asleep.

Laha stood alone there, asleepand annihilated, for the rest of the day.

***

Dukat found Laha still sleeping,traces of tears still wet her face.

His expression was mortified, buthe didn’t wake her up but he just relaxed himself, reading a book and observinghis sleeping guest.

Laha was not tall but not evenshort, she was about 1.7 metres tall, but she looked so delicate, thin andinnocent there.

After some minutes, she moved andshe woke up.

“Oh, welcome back in reality,dear Laha.” He said, his tone seemed ironical, because this was not the realityshe wanted to live.

She had had a very beautifuldream, she dreamt of her family, she was gardening with her father, it was asunny day and Bajor was luxuriant, free from every oppressor but it was only adream.

Then Dukat stood up and seatednext to her, caressing her cheeks and realized, she had cried.

“You haven’t cried because youmissed me, haven’t you?” he asked, whispering and she blushed, she hatedherself for it.

Laha didn’t answer because it wasa stupid question, she had thousands of reasons to cry.

“You’re not so talkative, I’msorry, I’m just impatient to know you better.” He said, smiling, “But you don’thave to worry about your family.” And she opened her eyes wide.

“Oh, I’ve caught your attention.”He grinned, “By the way, they’re fine, I don’t want you to be sad, they’ve notbeen hurt.” His voice was gentle but Laha didn’t smile back.

How could she trust the man whohad abducted her and forced her to live in this station?

“Should I believe you?” sheasked, serious and wary.

“Oh, finally, you’re speaking.”He seemed satisfied, “I’m telling the truth and, since I don’t want you tomistrust me, I’ll permit you to speak to them and ask them in person how dothey feel.”

Dukat’s words surprised her, shewould have never expected such a proposal.

“Really? Can I see my father?”she asked.

“Yes, you can… But then you haveto stay and enjoy your permanence.”

It sounded more like a threatthan a gift, even if Laha didn’t have any choice, she had to stay here, she waslike a prisoner, so she just nodded because if she would have the chance to seeher father, how could she refuse.

“Now that you feel morereassured, can we have dinner?” he asked, smirking.

Laha forgot about her hunger, andshe felt a little better after his promise.

She guessed, he could havechanged his mind if she would have refused his invitation and it was only a dinner.

In fact, it was just a dinner andLaha was surprised how good he behaved. Dukat didn’t make her uncomfortable ortouch her, he just spoke a lot, he spoke so much but she didn’t care and shejust nodded, faking smiles and filled her stomach.

This man was kinder than shethought for being a Cardassian and maybe she had judged him too fast.

***

Several days passed and Laha wasable to speak with her father. He was fine and her brothers as well.

The Cardassians didn’t hurt themand this was a miracle because she heard so many bad stories about otherfamilies she knew. Maybe she was truly lucky. These were the privileges Dukat hadtalked about.

“Are you ok, dear?” her fatherasked.

“Yes, I’m fine, they didn’t hurtme, they give me food, a bed to sleep…” She smiled at her father.

“It would be better if you wouldbe here.” he said and then the signal started freaking out until the video communicatorblacked out.

“Dad! Dad, what happened?” shespoke to the black monitor and she sighed.

At least, she had the chance tosee him, for some minutes but she was glad he was fine. Now she had to keep herpromise too and just appreciate her forced permanence on Terok Nor.

***

“Have you seen your father?”Dukat asked.

“Yes, but not for a long time, thevideo blocked at a certain point.” She explicated.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’ll try againanother time.” he smiled and then he took her hands, delicately.

His skin was so cold, it wasstrange, she could not define this feeling.

Somehow, she found it pleasant,different from the first time she met him. She wasn’t afraid anymore.

Since now, he had only treatedher as a special friend, a real guest, with respect, kindness and a sort ofdevotion as if he was afraid of offending her.

Dukat always had that sinistersmile on his face, the one that hid something, but she learnt to ignore it andjust appreciate his company. Laha would lie to herself if she said she feltuncomfortable with him.

Then Dukat got closer and hetouched her cheek and kissed her lips gently, so delicate, chaste, she barelyperceived it, Laha didn’t move and the Bajoran let him to get further. His kissbecame more passionate until she was unable to resist and Laha just kissed himback, her senses were completely lost, and her mind possessed by her lustingemotions.

He embraced her in a strong hug,even if his skin was cold, she could perceive warmth and her entire body washeating up.

Everything happened so naturally,with no pressure, no excuse and she felt good, loved and satisfied.

She had to trust him, she had noreason to misbelieving and she was glad, if any prisoner could feel fine in itsprison but she didn’t feel as a prisoner anymore.

Laha had found her new home hereon Terok Nor, here in Dukat’s arms.

~ PART 3 ;

A month passed and Laha evenforgot about her previous issues.

She still missed her home and so Dukatpromised her they would have visited Bajor but this promise had not been kept yetbut she knew he had a lot of work to do.

Despite her beautiful days, thesituation on Bajor was still hard because people still died of hunger, childrenwere still killed, cities were destroyed and nothing really changed. Bajorbecame a hell and the Cardassians were the demons who ruled it.

Laha was used to spend her daysin Dukat’s quarters reading, writing or sewing clothes but some other times shewas even able to take walks through the promenade or talk with the Constable Odo.Laha didn’t go so far because she didn’t want to meet other Cardassians, shecould trust Odo but walking with all those Cardassians around made her veryuncomfortable.

During one of these walks, sherealized an awful truth, the truth she had ignored until now. The reality sheleft behind, the agony every Bajoran was living. She forgot everything and afeeling of doom and guilt took possession of his mind and heart. Because shefelt like a traitor, like an enemy.

She was living carefree, safe andsound in Dukat’s quarters, while her people were fighting and dying for theirplanet.

A peculiar fact had opened her eyes,because that day took place a riot in the middle of the promenade. Some Bajoranworkers revolted against the Cardassians, it seemed, it was an organizedassault. They were three members of the resistance of Bajor but they had beencaught and executed.

Laha was there, on the top of thepromenade and she observed the scene from above as the men screamed, fought andthen fell on the cold ground as dead weights but they were not dead yet. Thiswas not the end they deserved, it would have been too gentle for theCardassians.

Those men had been hanged infront of everyone, their last words had been prayers dedicated to the Prophets.

Laha saw, she saw all of it andshe was left speechless as the men died, but they didn’t cry, they were proudand even glad to die for their people. They didn’t lose this battle becausethey became martyrs.

Then she understood. Lahaunderstood it was unfair, she lost her mind, her dignity. She was just anobject, a little toy, she lived in a golden cage and those people, the peoplewho had killed her compatriots, had put her in that cage. She could not be gladof it anymore. Could not be blind anymore.

Laha started crying and then sherun away to her quarters, she could not stand it anymore.

She wanted to forget the terriblescene she had already seen and just disappear and sleep forever.

***

Dukat tried to comfort her but hefailed

“I didn’t want you to see that,it was awful…” he said, “I’m sorry, dear.” He spoke, kissing her wet cheeks, sogentle, so mortified.

“What did they do?” she asked,sighing.

“They have injured a Cardassian guard andtry to escape.” He said, his tone was neutral and it seemed, it was a logicalreason to execute someone.

“Why kill them?” she asked andher tone was harsher, because she could not still accept it. She could notunderstand it.

Dukat seemed confused and thatquestion was strange because it was the normal procedure. Killing Bajorans wasnormal for any Cardassian. Especially for him.

“Who gave the order? Who hasdecided the execution?” she asked and Dukat’s face freeze.

Laha understood, it was soobvious and she felt stupid, naïve and scared because she was facing the personwho had condemned those men. The person who had killed so many Bajorans and shehad even loved that person. She felt dirty, outraged and she stood up, shaking.

“No, it’s not me, they haveassaulted a group of Cardassians, they were dangerous. They were members of theresistance.” Dukat explained as if it was not a real problem.

“No, they were not dangerous.They were slaves, all we Bajorans are slaves for you. I’m just a slave foryou.” Laha burst into tears.

“No, dear, you’re not a slave.Believe me, you have nothing to do with that. You should have not stayed thereand seen that scene.” Dukat seemed anxious but he didn’t lose his temperament.

“No, you have lied to me untilnow. How could I be so blind? So stupid?” Laha didn’t want to listen to hislies any longer.

“No, Laha, it’s not truth, I’venever lied to you. I truly love you.” Dukat said and she could not understandif those words were lies or maybe he truly felt something for her.

Only echoes were crossing hermind, the voices of those Bajoran men who hung on the promenade, their prayersand the cries of all the Bajoran who were dying.

Then she just hid inside her roomand there she stayed for several days, before she took a decision.

If Terok Nor was her new home, itwould have been her grave, too.

***

Laha spent three days locked inher room and Dukat was very worried about her

He didn’t pressure her or forcedher to invite him to enter, he also called his Bajoran counsellor but it was useless.Laha didn’t want to talk with anybody.

The execution of those men hadshocked her so much that she became even unable to fall asleep without hearingtheir screams, the words of hatred the Cardassians told to them as they hang tothe rope. She could not save them, she could not do anything, she just watched themdying.

The next day, Laha decided to goout of her room, she took a sonic shower and then she kneeled and she prayedthe Prophets for her people, for Bajor and for herself. She asked to theProphets to forgive her because she had betrayed her compatriots and she feltas if she deluded the Prophets, too. She didn’t feel as a true Bajoran no more.

“Oh, dear, finally you came outof there. How are you?” Dukat asked, he seemed truly worried.

For once, his voice appearedsincere and even his grin was not sinister or lascivious. He didn’t even smile.

“I’m fine.” She said, withoutlooking at him, she just observed the space in front of the window.

“What are you doing?” he asked,he was not used to see her like that.

“I’m talking with the Prophets.”Laha said.

Since she knew Dukat, she hadstopped praying so often and she hadn’t realized it at first. Staying in thisplace made her forget about her true values. What she was before had stopped existingthe moment she fell in love with him. It was true, an awful truth.

Dukat didn’t answer and he lether pray, totally unaware of the world she had inside, of the thoughts she washaving that moment.

Laha understood. The moment hadcome.

***

Laha stood up, leaving herquarters and then she kept walking through the promanade.

She stood there, in the sameplace where those men died, where their bodies were hanging and she still feltsad for them but nothing else. She just felt anything at all.

The young Bajoran placed herhands on the handrail and she climbed it, it was a sort of ledge, she couldobserve the Cardassian guards who walked under her.

She stood up on the handrail andshe closed her eyes.

No sounds could be heard, no morevoices of desperation or cries, but only the warm embrace of the Prophets, ifthey would have ever forgiven her, was waiting for her on the other side.

Then she jumped, her body aslight as a feather but her mind so heavy, full of thoughts and worries.

Everything just disappeared.

May the Prophets forgive hersins.

***

Everything happened so fast,nobody realized it at first.

Some Cardassian guards hadpointed to her and other Bajorans that were there started screaming.

Surprisingly, the most shocked onewas Dukat, he was not there when it happened and he just saw the corpse of thewoman he loved in the sickbay, lifeless, cold and broken.

He should have known, maybe he hadsuspected it but he just ignored the signals because he was still too selfishto care about somebody else.

That same day, Dukat made Lahacorpse transported to her home on Bajor, giving Laha’s body to her father.

That was the place where sheshould have been, where she should have returned.

Dukat hoped he would haveaccompanied her there, and maybe even the occupation would have stopped and anew era would have come but reality was different from his dreams.

He was not welcome in in thathouse, nowhere on Bajor, but he felt glad he had been able to love someone likeher. Maybe she saw something good in him, not everyone was able of this, butnow everything was over and he could only mourn the death of a person he trulyloved. Because it was not a lie, not an illusion or a Cardassian trick. It waslove and it was dead, it was resting with her, in her grave.

It was more than that.

It was the love of a marthyr.

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chinatea · 6 years

Text

Jikook AU #3. (WIP)

Tags: Supernatural AU, Prince Jimin, Innocent Jimin, Sand Master Jungkook, Sand, Lots of sand, Deserts and Dunes, Aesthetics, Dreamy, Stalking, Seduction of the Innocent, Dark Ending.

(Updates will be irregular and short, tbh, because this is a short fic, I dunno why I’m splitting it even further, but you gotta do what you gotta do sometimes. Will be posted on AO3 when done.)

(THIS IS A NON-PERSONA FIC, OKAY. YEAH, I WRITE THOSE, TOO.)

Part 1.

The king has been writing letters for as long as Jimin remembers.

Their kingdom is dying, but here, in the safety of the palace, it is but a muted echo, a whisper shared in secrecy between the serving folk.

Jimin was born in the palace, raised in the palace and is destined to die here, too. The outside world is as ephemeral to him as a dream, existing only in the meandering stories of his mentors. The stories of warm people and treacherous dead ends, hidden among the streets so narrow one could barely squeeze through. He wishes he could experience it all, if only for a day, breathe in the smoky spices of his people, drown in the daily hubbub of a bustling bazaar, but come next morning, that dream escapes through the cracks of the ancient walls somewhere Jimin could never possibly follow.

For he is the youngest prince - he belongs here. As moon belongs in the sky, as fish belongs in the sea.

(Here, in the world of sand and wind, the sea, of course, is nothing but another dream wisp.)

Being the youngest means to bring luck and good fortune into the family. That is his sacred duty. The reason he is alive. That is also why he is prohibited to ever leave the palace grounds. The moment his feet brush the stones that are not of the palace, his family is doomed. Or so the story goes - a mere legend but who would dare to disobey and taunt the Fate herself? People in power are most superstitious.

Fettered he may be, still, Jimin has been raised with kindness, his wishes indulged, his whims obeyed - all but one, of course. The affairs of the outside world have also been kept out of his concern. The king and his letters, the occasional visitors, his brother’s sudden disappearance and his mother’s tears - all of that existed in a different world from his. Might as well be another dream.

He has his own reality, instead - his routine devoted to studies. Music, dance and sacrilegious reading. Tending to his mind as well as his body. He is the soul of the palace and his beauty reflects the vitality of their dynasty that has been prospering for a thousand of years now. Truly, the gods have been gracious.

It’s not often he is called to the great hall, the heart of their palace, where the king holds his daily sittings. Oftentimes Jimin feels lost in such a vast open space, a tiny speck surrounded by massive columns that soar high and imperious as in a vain attempt to bring them closer to the sun - they say the titans build them, long before humans were even in the picture. That is why they’re so humongous. That is why every word uttered travels great distance before echoing off the stone, magnifying it in intensity.

It’s no coincidence that only the king is allowed to speak in full voice here, the rest of them resorting to humble whispers. And Jimin barely utters anything at all. He’s only ever invited to play an instrument - a lute or banjo. And Jimin loves doing it. It brings a smile onto the king’s face - his father’s face.

The day he’s summoned again makes his heartbeat quicken just so. As much as he’s removed from the matters of their kingdom, he is not completely oblivious. Not long ago, his ears have caught a whisper of a whisper - something is happening outside the walls. The City’s walls. Somewhere far away where only dreams dwell.

Spurred by his curiosity, he hurries out of his midday bath, giddy with excitement as his attendants wrap him into layers of gauzy fabric, their movements ritualistic and solem. As much as he’s impatient, he understands that the youngest prince is the soul of the palace, hence he must look impeccable, especially in the eyes of the outsiders.

The sight that greets him in the great hall upon his arrival, however, dampens his spirits. The king seems...Jimin can’t really ascribe an emotion to his face. Maybe it’s grief, although Jimin could never be sure - grief exists in a place beyond his comprehension. He only knows the occasional melancholy of things.

Wordless, Jimin bows and lowers himself on one of the pillows by the king’s elevated seat, reserved for the members of the royal family - they are the only people who can remain seated in the king’s presence, the rest of the court keeping their distance respectfully, their heads lowered.

As he picks up a light lute, ready to start on a melody that his father finds most pleasurable, he’s immediately hushed with a brisk wave of the king’s hand, his eyed lidded in deep thought. Jimin’s fingers stay still, barely touching the strings, as the silence becomes their only music.

“Bring him in.” The king’s tired voice is barely above whisper. It barely cuts through the heavy silence of the hall.

Jimin waits with bated breath as the thudding of marching footsteps reverberate through the space like thunderclaps. It’s sinister and Jimin has half a mind to slink back into his chamber - the comfort of his books and blankets, only his curiosity gets the better of him.

The man the guardsmen bring forth is not of this land, that much is certain. His clothes are well-traveled, dusty from sand and grime, his looks have a rough edge to him, which strangely only adds to his handsome allure. Jimin has never seen a foreigner before, let alone so striking, that he allows himself to just stare, agog, at the stranger, along with the rest of the court.

“What good a single man would do us?” the king mutters under his breath, as if musing to himself. “I asked - I begged - for an army. Is this how my brother owes his debts?”

The stranger smiles at him and it’s not a kind smile - it’s not an evil smile, either. But there is something wicked behind it, something ancient - the smile of a man who knows many secrets.

“I am the army.”

Spoken with the conviction that cannot be wavered. Jimin doesn’t doubt it for a second, but the king slams his fist on the armrest in fury as a round of gasps rolls through the crowd. The king never - never - shows anger.

“How dare you mock me.”

Unperturbed by the outburst, the stranger, then, brings up his hand and opens his palm - a handful of sand dust piled in the center of it. Jimin almost leans off his seat in order to get a better look; almost rolls off it, a silent gasp of surprise caught in his throat when the sand rises off the palm, shaping up into a miniature whirl, its enchanting dance leaving Jimin riveting with awe.

A wave of whispers disturbs their court. Even his mother, ever the serene matron, loses her composure for a moment, lips parting in wonderment.

The king, however, begs to differ.

“Am I supposed to be impressed with your parlor tricks?”

“Perhaps not,” the stranger admits. “But are you sure you are looking in the right direction, my king?”

He points, then, towards the murky horizon, many eyes following the smooth flow of his hand, as if enchanted - there are gasps. There are voices, murmurs of wonder.

Jimin rises on his knees to peer beyond the open balcony into the vastness of the desert, encroaching onto the city from all sides. There is always something predatory about the sands, the dunes holding them in their clutches, waiting for the day it could swallow them all. And today...

Jimin is startled to realize that it might not be as far-fetched a truth. The sight leaves him invigorated as he takes in the sand columns in the distance, streaming down from the skies, all of them mirroring the dance of the little whirl on the stranger’s palm. They are too far to cause any real damage to the city walls, but if they were to reach them, the city would be left in ruins, no doubt about that.

Jimin shivers, as the cold fingers of tangible fear grip at the base of his spine.

“Are you impressed now, my king?” his voice runs as smooth as the sand between his fingers the moment he lets his hand fall - the distant whirls dispersing just as effortlessly, evaporating into the thin air. “Or maybe you think it’s some kind of trick? An illusion? Maybe you want me to raise one in the middle of this hall?”

“No. I believe you.”

The king’s face is pale, hands gripping painfully at the armrests of his throne. He looks like a tired old man. “If you swear to protect my land, you can have any reward you want.”

“I’m sure we can arrange on a suitable price.” The stranger’s eyes find Jimin’s, for the first time, burning through him like incense - it leaves him breathless. “In due time.”

“What should we call you, magician?”

“Jeongguk.”

The name is carried through the hall in reverence - Jimin, too, can’t help but test it out on his lips, soundless to anyone but Jeongguk himself as his dark eyes burn through his very core, sparkling feelings that leave his limbs heavy, pinned to the ground - it frightens him.

He darts before he can change his mind, leaving his flute and his family behind - escaping while all eyes are on the newcomer. Once out of the Great Hall, he sprints all the way into his private quarters, uncaring if the guards see him run like their palace is on fire. His step is light and muted. He doesn’t look back even if he desperately wants to - even if he feels eyes on him. Many, many eyes watching him - the feeling doesn’t dissipate even in the safety of his own bedroom.

Somehow he doesn’t doubt for a moment, whomever this man may be, he’s here to stay.

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

And this is end of the only decently written part for now. Sighs.

#jikook au #very guilty pleasure #im sorry chimchim

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rauliskafan · 6 years

Text

Magic in Manhattan

Would you like a little Rafael Barba x Reader by way of “Tristan and Isolde?” Read on for more (for lt-sammi-matthews Twist on the Myth Challenge). Enjoy!!!

“You’re going to put the screws to him, right?”

Mark spoke out of the corner of his mouth as the pair of you sat at the defense table, listening to the man whose sole mission in life was to take your client down for fostering a campus rife with harassment complaints. While the idea of the latter turned your stomach, Mark swore up and down that it was a setup, that he was collateral damage in a world gone mad. You wanted to believe him. He had never been anything but generous as your mentor. The fact that he occasionally flirted was beside the point.

The fact that you wanted to beat ADA Rafael Barba at his own game had everything to do with the matter and more.

As soon as the well-dressed man with the emerald eyes rested his closing argument, he sent a smirk your way. You resented it. Did he think that you were being played? Or that you weren’t up to the challenge?

You would do your best to prove him wrong on both counts..

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, good morning. The prosecution took up the better part of an hour essentially repeating the same point. Surprised he didn’t throw an interpretative dance into the mix.”

That got some giggles out the jury, and you took the moment of laughter to deliver your own smirk to the ADA. He sat stone-faced but just curled his long fingers around a gold pen. Good. You wanted to get under his skin from the start.

“I will not be nearly as long-winded,” you continued. “My client, Dr. Mark Brower has served Hudson University’s Criminal Justice Department honorably for the last seven years. He certainly respects the gravity of these accusations. He would be the first to tell you that he applauds any woman with the strength to come forward after an assault.”

You caught a glimpse of Barba leaning forward in his chair. He had to wonder where you were going with this.

“But make no mistake,” you continued. “There are such things as baseless claims in our current climate, and three students in a span of seven years does not a predator make. I would argue it makes up a select student body who simply could not hack the coursework, and now here we are.”

Hearing the murmurs from the gallery mingled with two jurors who nodded at your logic set your mind more and more at ease. And Barba looked ready to sport a glove of ink, his pen about to explode in his palm.

“I’m sure the ADA is prepared to jump through a lot of hoops to convince you otherwise. But we have our own evidence. And when we reach the conclusion of this case, I have faith that you fine people will make the right decision. Thank you.”

Feeling supremely pleased with yourself, you sauntered back to the defense table, your eyes locking with Mr. Barba’s. Perhaps he wanted to wield his pen as a different kind of a weapon. No matter. Those possible sentiments mirrored yours exactly, and by the end of this trial, you would wipe that smug look off his face for good and all.

“Fancy meeting the likes of you here.”

Looking up from your legal briefs, you cringed at the sight of Barba polluting your favorite watering hole. Wasn’t he the Forlini’s type, his lips forever pressed to that holier-than-thou lieutenant’s ass?

“I trust you’re not following me, Mr. Barba,” you challenged as he hovered close to your place at the bar.

“After trying to track your dizzying line of questioning for the better part of the afternoon?” he shot back. “Thank you, no. I’m in the market for a reprieve.”

“And yet, here you are.”

As the bar was jam-packed on a Friday night, the man wearing pinstripes had one of two choices: retreat or assume the seat at your side. It did not surprise you when he opted for the latter, a feeble attempt to mark his territory and make your night a misery.

Two could play at that game.

“What are you working on?” he asked as he sipped a glass of scotch on the rocks.

“In what world do you think I would share my strategy with you?” you inquired in a blistering tone, taking care to shield your notes with your forearm.

“Certainly not this one,” he reasoned. “I thought maybe you were prepping for your next client.”

“My next client?” you asked, suddenly and slightly confused.

“That’s right,” he said, letting you hang in suspense as he took another drink. “Who’s next? Going to try to get Madoff a retrial? Or perhaps you prefer educators who take advantage. Absolutely no shortage of those these days.”

Seething where you sat, working overtime to let the insult wash over you and drip to the floor littered with peanut shells and pretzel dust, you polished off your bourbon and signaled to Bree, the distracted girl behind the bar who kept checking her phone, for another.

“And you are so sure that my client is guilty,” you spat. “Because you’ve never head of someone lying to get a leg up.”

“Of course I have,” he admitted as he downed the rest of his drink. “It happens. I’d ask if you made the same move with Brower---”

“Careful, counselor,” you warned as the door to the bar opened, bringing in a double date and an early autumn breeze.

“I was only going to say that you’ve made your marks based on merit. I would never deny that.”

He finished his drink and also ordered a refill. You stared at him carefully, considering how you should take the compliment and whether or not there was something sinister lurking beneath its surface.

“You would just accuse me of selling out my entire gender to get my name on the front page,” you finally said, not willing to give so much as an inch. Now his silence spoke volumes, and you turned away with a sneer.

“Hey!” you called out to Bree who was deep in conversation with one quarter of the double date. “Some service here, please?”

Bree started forward when her boss, a burly man with tattoos, intervened.

“Come on, Bree,” he muttered. “Got to move faster on a Friday.”

With that, he quickly picked up two shots of what looked like tequila and set one glass before you, one next to Barba.

“On the house,” the tattooed man said. “We’ll get you your right refills in just a moment.”

Needing a drink of something, anything, now, you lifted the shot glass to your lips and drank the contents in one swallow.

Strange. It tasted far sweeter than you expected. Barely any trace of alcohol. If you didn’t know any better, you would swear it was honey seasoned with… seasoned with what? Herbs? Was it laced with something? You just made out Bree’s eyes go wide and started to speak when Barba chuckled.

“That supposed to intimidate me or something?” he asked. “You mixing your drinks? Better study your adversaries a little more closely.”

Before you could offer anything in the way of a warning, he followed your lead and consumed the shot. Almost instantaneously, you saw his puzzled eyes, his lips lengthening into a straight line as his brow furrowed. He had to taste it, too. Had to wonder what was wrong with the beverage. Feeling the need to ask him as much, you met his eyes.

The world stopped moving. All the sounds in the room retired like children being called away from a summer night so they could get some much-needed sleep. The light in the bar stayed dim. Except for the place where Barba sat. There you saw a glow emanating from the man. Had it always been there? Why had you never noticed it before?

“Barba…”

Your own voice sounded different. Softer. At the very least, it was a tone that you had never used with him. When he tried to speak, only a sigh hit the air, sweet and gentle. Like a pie left cooling on a windowsill and promising even more thrills once one bit into the crust to savor the juices of the fruits so artfully buried within.

“I… I don’t know…”

He said nothing else. Simply took your hand in his. That same hand that might have crushed a pen with one squeeze let its fingers lace with yours. So soft. Setting your skin on fire and yet there was no burn.

“I don’t know either,” you murmured as you stretched towards him

And his kiss claimed yours, your flavors blending as you solved the mystery of your heart’s hidden desires by way of his mouth.

��What the hell, Bree?”

“Jerry, I can explain.”

“Did you dose them with something?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be for them.”

“So you admit it?”

“It was for my friends. Well, for their dates.”

“Why? You trying to set them up or something?”

“No! It was to make them fall in love!”

Bree and the bartender continued bickering back and forth. Some sense of sound returned when they ushered you from the bar to a backroom.

But Barba’s moans still bested any other voices.

“God, why didn’t we do this sooner?”

Answering his question with another kiss, you sat beside him on a battered couch. With your arms about his neck, you ran your eager hands across his back, under his blazer. You could feel his muscles straining through his vest, his shirt. He grazed his fingers over your legs and tenderly reached under your skirt. Sliding closer, sighing as he stroked your thighs, you dragged your lips towards his ear.

“Time… wasted,” you managed as you nibbled his lobe. “Looking at you in court every day… it was torture.”

Drawing you nearer, he guided you to his lap. One hand stayed on your leg as he began to unbutton your blouse, your breasts anxious for his touch when Jerry cleared his throat and Bree rushed forward.

“Guys,” she started. “Sorry. I… this was a mistake.”

“Hardly,” Barba argued before gazing into your eyes again. “I was fated to come here tonight. To fall in love.”

“Oh, Rafael!” you sighed, pushing him to his back, desperate to have him wearing much less when Bree furiously clapped her hands and stamped her foot.

“It was a love potion!” she shrieked.

“And it’s in her eyes,” Barba said as he caressed your face, and you leaned your cheek into his palm.

“You say the sweetest things,” you said, needing to kiss him again when Jerry groaned.

“Before I fire you, Bree, please tell me that there’s an antidote.”

“Not really,” she said. “I mean… I mean we could try to separate them or something.”

“Not on your life.”

Easing away from you ever so slightly, Barba rose and helped you to stand on wobbly legs. But as long as you could lean against him…

“She stays with me always,” he said. “Isn’t that right, querida?”

Your weak knees knocked together at the word, and you had no other choice but to cling to him, squealing as he lifted you into his arms. Jerry and Bree stood stunned as Barba brought you out the city street that seemed paved with even more flowers.

And you kissed him so hard that he had to sink to the curb even as his embrace stayed tight.

“What?” he asked as he nuzzled your nose.

“Querida?” you asked.

“Term of endearment. Do you not like it? I can change it if---”

“I love it,” you said. “I want to call you so many things.”

“Like what?” he asked, kissing you again as if he needed your breath to stay alive.

“Mine,” you murmured. “Always. Forever.”

He nodded, and you started to drift deeper into the pavement as a taxi pulled up.

“You crazy kids okay?” the bearded cabbie asked. “Somewhere you need to go?”

Once again, Barba helped you to your feet. You were more than ready to offer your place for this night, for the weekend and longer, when Barba stopped short and fashioned a smirk that made you blush.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“What you said. Making you mine. Forever.”

“Are you serious?”

You were still giddy and barely able to walk from the feel of Barba inside you for nearly two nights straight. But despite your ardor, there was still a job to do. And you stood together before the bench as you smiled into his eyes.

“Forgive me… forgive us your honor,” you started. “But it has to be a conflict of interest for me to go up against my husband in court.”

Barba laughed and kissed your lips, your mussed hair. The flight to Vegas took no time at all in the space of his arms. Once arrived, you found the first chapel available and spoke vows with an Elvis impersonator as your witness. When the officiant deemed that you were indeed man and wife, he tossed chips in the air. But you had no desire to make your way to the tables. Better to linger with him in a bed adorned with Lucky Sevens and savor so many sensations as the arid sun set and rose and left the room once more. You wanted his hands everywhere, kept him by your side throughout bubble baths and the few stolen moments to eat. Beyond that, you held him until he looked to his phone with a heavy sigh.

It’s almost Monday.

Let’s not go back.

Just to recuse ourselves. And then I’m taking my bride home.

Which led you to the courtroom. Just holding his hand was so much less than what you needed from his fingers, but the judge ultimately rolled her eyes. She warned of consequences for both of you. No matter. Soon enough you were back in the fresh air, on the courthouse steps, and in Barba’s arms.

“How do I love you so much?” he murmured into your hair.

“I know. Was it the drink?”

“No way. I always thought you were amazing.”

“Did you?”

“Smart as you are? How could I not.”

Weak in the knees all over again, ready to hail a cab and get back to the nearest bed, your wish was cut short by the harsh sound of a familiar voice.

“What the hell, you bitch?”

Mark stood only a few feet away, glaring with his hands in his pockets as Barba eased you behind his back.

“Don’t talk to my wife that way,” he cautioned.

“Your wife? In one weekend?”

“Mark, please,” you said. “Just find another attorney.”

“I want you.”

“I’m spoken for.”

Once again, the world came to a halt, Barba glowing as your mouth met his. His kiss tasted sweeter still, and you were more than ready to take your leave when Mark lunged forward.

“Do you think I would let you do this?” he barked.

“Hey, let her---!”

“You’re not like those other sluts. They were asking for it. You played hard to get. What else do I have to do to make you mine?”

Seeing him clearly as if for the first time, you shuddered but still summoned the strength to push him away, to nearly send him stumbling back.

“So it’s all true,” you said. “Mark, you need a lot more help than what I can give you.”

“I paid for you to stand by me.”

“Then you can have your money back,” you reasoned, any ire in your soul calming as Barba touched the small of your back. “I got a better offer in every way, shape, and form.”

Still strange how it happened. A part of you had desired him the second you saw him walk by in a three-piece suit. Now you only wanted him out of the pinstripes once more and started to kiss him…

“I’ll sue the both of you for damages!”

Mark screeched as he plowed forward. Barba pushed you out of the way and stood to ward Mark off when they both tumbled down a few steps. You screeched, your hands on your mouth as you thought of his head hitting a sharp edge, his beautiful mind stilling his beautiful heart.

“Rafael!”

Seeing no blood in is hair, you raced forward and clasped his hand.

“Baby?” you whispered.

His green eyes sparkled, the one breath he managed to exhale sweeter than ever as his finger reached for your hair.

“Querida…”

Hearing him speak soothed your heart, and you were ready to help him up when you saw the gold pen that had stayed so long in tact dislodged from his pocket…

…and sticking out of his chest.

“Uh… Mrs. Barba?”

You sat with his bloodied blazer in your hands, listening carefully to the doctor’s words. Lost a lot of blood. Critical but stable. Think he’s going to pull through.

Now the world moved. You heard his mother weep tears of joy and saw his colleagues, the lieutenant you had disparaged in particular, smile at the news. Your husband. Your most beautiful love going to come back to you in one piece. You hugged the doctor as you cried happily and asked to see him.

“Of course. Right this way.

Finding him pale under thin sheets, you set his coat aside and sat beside him.

“Hey. You’re going to be alright. You better be, Mr. Barba. You don’t get to barrel your way into my heart and leave me in the lurch.”

Not that you fully understood how it had even happened. Had Bree said something about a love potion? But that was the stuff of fairy tales. This was real, more real than any other moment or man that you had ever---

“Hello,” he said in a weak voice. You barely took in the sight of his troubled expression when you hugged him gently, your kisses threading through his hair

“Don’t you dare go scaring me like that again,” you whispered as you finally met his eyes and stroked his clammy cheek. His eyes grew more and more quizzical until he took your hand…

…and lowered it to one side.

“So… so it wasn’t all a dream then?” he began.

“What Mark did? I’m so sorry, baby. That was very real.”

“No. No I mean… us.”

“Us?” you echoed. “Well… yeah. We… we fell in love. We got married. Don’t you remember?”

You showed him the cheap band of gold that was now your most cherished piece of jewelry and watched his face appear to put the puzzle pieces together.

“I… remember,” he finally said. “We… we took a drink. And then…”

“Magic,” you insisted, your throat starting to tighten. Maybe it was a spell of some sort, but you didn’t care. It seemed so right. He said… he showed you that he felt the same way.

So what---?

“I think…”

“Yes?”

“I think it wore off.”

And your heart that had been so full shattered, the bits of glass seeming to swim through your body, bringing pain to more places than you could count.

“No,” you said. “You’re just… maybe it’s the anesthesia or something. Plus you lost a lot of blood.”

“I get that,” he admitted. “But I don’t… it doesn’t feel the same. You don’t… look the same. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. But---”

“Save it.”

Finding it a struggle to stand with your broken heart, you removed the ring and started to leave the room. Suddenly feeling more like your old self, you turned on your heel to stare him down.

“Was it a trick?” you accused. “To make me throw the case? Look like a fool in front of the judge?”

“Think we’re both in that boat,” he murmured, his face seeming so sad. But now you were seeing him as was before, as he had always been.

“So maybe it was just about getting me into bed,” you hissed.

“No, I---”

“Save it, Mr. Barba,” you barked. “I’m having this sham of a marriage annulled ASAP. And do not call me again.”

Maybe it was his hurtful words or your dose of flowers having run its course, but now the spell ceased for you, too.

You sat solemnly in your office, trying to make sense of the past few days. As you were still his wife, word had reached you that Barba was to be released from the hospital. Not that you had any plans to see him. Toying with the notion of abandoning Manhattan altogether, you glanced up at the sound of a soft knock on your door.

“Hi.”

He still seemed pale, but he was up and about. While you did not wish the man dead, you stood with every intention of ushering him out when he held up one hand.

“Five minutes. That’s all I ask.”

Nodding, you glanced at your watch and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Come to rub salt in my wounds?” you asked.

“Nothing like that,” he said. “I… I should’ve called you.”

“I wouldn’t have answered.”

“I figured. So I… I actually called the girl from the bar.”

Lowering your arms, you watched him reach into his pocket. He held a vial of the same liquid from that fateful night.

“No,” you quickly said.

“No?” he echoed.

Even as you were tempted to see him shining again, to feel his touch, to look into his eyes and feel only love springing forth from his green orbs…

“It won’t work,” you said. “It’ll only fade away again, and I… I can’t go through that…”

Breaking down, you avoided his intended embrace and sat behind your desk. Barba grimaced as he dropped to one knee, still dangling the vial between his long fingers.

“You’re right,” he said. “But what if I told you that there’s another way?”

“What other way?” you asked, reaching for a tissue to dab your eyes.

“Maybe it was… I don’t know,” he started. “Witchcraft or whatever. But that weekend with you was the happiest two and a half days of my life.”

“You’re just trying to be nice,” you muttered.

“When have you ever know me to do that?” he asked, his smirk back in full force as you relaxed some in your chair.

“Point taken.”

“And see… see the thing is…”

Finally setting the vial aside, he reached for you hand. It felt oddly familiar and yet somehow altogether different. But you did not relinquish his hold.

“When I talked to Bree, she said that she’s never seen it work that fast. She couldn’t quite figure it out. But she… she surmised that it meant that there already had to be some feeling in my heart for you.”

“For me?” you asked. “I wouldn’t have guessed that. The way you spoke to me at the bar.”

“I wouldn’t spar like that with just anyone,” he confessed. “Only someone I couldn’t help but admire. Respect. Because you’re smart. And strong. And…”

His voice trailed off as he popped the cap off the vial and promptly poured the contents into your waste paper basket before reaching for your face.

“So I say let’s give it another try,” he said. “Without it. I would have taken it again for you. But maybe… maybe we don’t even need it. Let’s give forever a chance on our own terms.”

His eyes were wide and hopeful as he tightened his grip. Of course you had always felt the same way about him. There were just too many complications to contend with.

“I… I think that’s what hurt the most,” you admitted as a fresh stream of tears trailed down your cheeks.

“What’s that?” he asked, wiping the wetness away.

“Losing you… when I… when I had wanted you for so long.”

You felt your lips mirror his smile, and he leaned in for a chaste kiss. Maybe he didn’t taste quite as sweet, but there was still a kind of magic in his mouth.

“So?” he asked as he rested his brow against yours. “What do you think?”

“I… well… I guess we are already married,” you admitted.

“Elvis said you were a beautiful bride,” he teased, causing you to laugh.

“But we need to take this slowly,” you said. “Like really get to know each other.”

“You mean out of bed,” he said with a chuckle.

“Something like that.”

“Well…”

Standing slowly, he offered his arm.

“Can I take you out for a cup of coffee?”

You waited for only a second before rising to accept his touch. Would you have ever come to this place without Bree’s brew? No way of knowing. And maybe it was better to see him clearly, to explore the possibilities over which potions had no power.

“I’d like that,” you said. Leaning closer to his side, you stepped back towards what you had lost, what you had never known…

“I like you,” he whispered, as he pecked your cheek.

And somehow his simple schoolboy words were the most enchanting incantation that you had ever heard.

#raúl esparza #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #law & order svu #svu fanfiction #twistonthemythchallenge

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sablelab · 6 years

Text

Covert Operations - Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its charactnters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander. This is a complete work of fiction and as such is an entirely fabricated tale created in my imagination.

There may be some suggestive chapters (S) and scenes of a violent (V) and or sexual nature (NSFW) through the course of this story.

Manip - @sassylover-stuff SYNOPSIS: James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp are Section One operatives from the most covert of all antiterrorist organizations that wages war against those who would destroy ... or at the very least reorder... society. Its adversaries, who have remained beyond the reach of normal police and intelligence agencies, are many, and they are ruthless, and so Section resorts to measures that would be unacceptable for most government organizations. For this reason, Section jealously guards its anonymity. It recruits criminals and killers and gives them a choice: death or life as a Section operative. It's usually a rather short life for operatives are expendable, and losses are high, but then so are the stakes in a global power struggle against sinister terrorist organizations such as the Triad group called The Rising Dragons.

I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!

Covert Operations - The Rising Dragons

The Dragon rises up his back In daylight near and far He soars at night with deadly eye Beneath the moon and star The Rising Dragon! Be cautious of its ruthless ways This enigma to the night For the Dragon bears upon his wings A chilling tale of fright The Rising Dragon! “Death with Honour” its way of life With motto “Strength by Dare” Once you yield fear nought … but When it seeks you, beware! The Rising Dragon! CHAPTER 1 (S) In the early hours of the morning Section One operative Claire Beauchamp was in a sound but restless sleep. Her mind, however, was filled with the images of her partner and mentor Jamie Fraser and herself on last night’s mission together. Waiting in a darkened city street outside the nightclub, we wait to seize the two heroin dealers and lovers whom we are to replace on an upcoming mission. They are to be our point of entry to our target’s party circle and his dealings with Red Cell. I keep glancing into the alleyway to see if they are coming … but Jamie is somewhat distracted … which is most unusual for him. I have been a little flippant with him tonight joking about our so-called “date” and the setting where it was happening and I feel like teasing him just a bit more. “You always take me to such nice places, James Fraser.” He keeps looking at me as if he wants to commit me to memory … as if he can’t get enough of me. I watch his eyes as they caress my features over and over. Moving right into my space … Jamie overwhelms me. I can barely breathe let alone think properly. He is so close to my face that I can taste his lips and feel the soft, warm caress of his words.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Laying in her bed, Claire smiled languorously in her dream-induced sleep as Jamie Fraser’s words and actions washed over her.

Leaning into me while we are waiting for the targets to appear, the soft timbre of Jamie’s voice affects my senses.

“Where are you staying tonight?”

His words sent a tingle running down her spine and she recalled the soft whisper of his breath near her cheek as they were uttered. Unconsciously Claire sighed in her sleep as her body had seemed to gravitate to the gorgeous man who was her enigmatic partner. Jamie’s words had sent her heart fluttering as to the underlying innuendo of those five softly spoken words against her cheek. It had been dark in the alleyway but she wondered had he been able to see the vein throb in her neck or see that her face was a little flushed or that her eyes had slightly glazed over with a hopeful but questioning look?

Her eyelids twitched and a little grin crossed her mouth as if she was remembering the satisfied reply of her answer.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “They’ve assigned me to temporary quarters not far from my little apartment.” I look disdainfully around the alleyway that we are waiting in observing the background of noisy traffic, rubbish bins and drunks walking by. Taking one look at the setting and then looking at James Fraser, I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of our surroundings. Catching his gaze as he studies me I reply light heartedly, “I’ve got to say, my new pad’s almost as nice as this.” Jamie smiles at me with this quirky little grin that I just love when the sides of his mouth bow in a conspiratorial way. “For how long?” He inquires hopefully. “Two weeks.” I answer. I know that thought processes are obviously churning over in Jamie’s head. I know those blank stares of his. They infuriate me at times but they speak so much without words. He replies somewhat tongue in cheek, but I’m sure he means every word he says. I can see it in his eyes. They sparkle with mischief. “You could stay with me.” Jamie strokes my shoulders leisurely with his gentle but strong hands. Caressing my body through my clothes … it feels as if I have nothing on at all. The heat of his touch is scorching me. It burns right to the core of my being. I’m on fire for more than just my partner’s potent caresses. I close my eyes ... I can’t look at him for fear I will be roasted alive. I feel the heat shoot through my body at his nearness as my nerve endings tingle with desire. I can’t help it … I groan. “Ahh! Jam -ie!” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Tossing and turning Claire called out again to Jamie in her sleep. Groaning incoherently, his name echoed in her room as she writhed in her bed feeling his tender touch on her body. Jamie’s caresses never failed to set off alarm bells ringing inside her. Even the mere thought of this man touching her ignited her senses making Claire long for something real from him … something that was a little bit more intense … something that would leave her smouldering with unbridled want and need. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

I say to him … but in my mind I relay my real thoughts and answer, “Oh my God! I hope that IS what he is asking …YES! YES! YES! Please…” I yearn to say instead.

He is so hard to read at times but the next words out of his mouth in that sexy Scottish brogue nearly render me speechless. “You’d be more comfortable.” I can hardly believe what I am hearing from James Fraser. I feel faint. Oh, how I have longed to hear such words uttered from his mouth … but I can’t help but wonder how serious Jamie is about his proposition so I ask.

“Well, is this for two weeks or were you thinking of something a little more … permanent?”

Before I have barley finished speaking his eyes seize mine. I cannot breathe … I’m riveted. His eyes are mesmerizing. Trapping me in his sights, Jamie’s eyes show he means every word. I stand transfixed before him … lost to him. “We’d have more privacy,” he says. We are so close that every time we talk, we are almost kissing. In fact his lips do brush mine but it is not enough … not nearly enough. However much I love his soft caresses … I want him to deepen the connection and ravish me like he’d done once before. I want to go off like a firecracker … just like I did on that special night on the boat in Lyons. Primal … feral … wanton. If only he would take me … here … now … in the alleyway … I really don’t care … I just want him to kiss me passionately, deeply ... and senseless. Although my mind wants more, my lips are content to feel Jamie’s lips gently caress mine as each wonderful word leaves his mouth with sincerity and intent. His eyes … the windows to his soul are laid bare for me to see the depth of his feelings. I know what he wants to do because I want the same thing. But I lower my gaze to his fingertips lightly caressing my lips then gaze back up into his eyes saying, “And how is it, that you think that we’re going to get away with that?” But James Fraser doesn’t answer me … his lips zero in on mine and he begins to...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Brrr brrr ... brrr brrr … Before Claire even had enough time to waken properly from the wonderful erotic dream she was having, her cell phone echoed in her apartment. Brrr brrr ... brrr brrr … “Aarrgghhhh!” she mumbled incoherently as the incessant ringing eventually woke her up.

Grunting, Claire rubbed her eyes, then reaching out her hand searched for where she had left the phone. Moaning loudly into her darkened bedroom she picked it up reluctantly from the bedside table. With eyes still closed and her body tingling from the visions of her pleasurable dream Claire lay back on her bed and reluctantly answered in a husky voice, “Yeah …?”

Surprisingly enough the main focus of her vivid dream was the very person on the other end of the line.

“Jos-e-phine …”

The sexy timbre of Jamie’s voice caressed Claire’s ear as if a kiss had been planted there instead. In her dream, he had just been about to kiss her … but here he was using her code name and asking her to come into Section. Begrudgingly glancing at the clock illuminating the room in the darkness, Claire focused on the early hour of the day. Although this was not unusual procedure for Section One, Claire hated these early morning wake up calls, but Jamie had called her in as a matter of urgency for a new mission was being profiled. Turning off her cell phone, Claire moaned into her pillow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued

#jamieandclaireau #undercoveragents #outlander #lfn #fanfic #jamie x claire

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brevoorthistoryofcomics · 6 years

Photo

I’m not certain what made me decide to pick up this issue of SHAZAM, though I’d imagine that it has something to do with the return of another Golden Age hero, Fawcett’s Minute Man, in the story. I’m pretty sure I got it while on a visit to my grandparents, so that may have played a role as well--my selection may have been limited. It’s a fun issue, created during the point where DC was trying to align the comic book more with the SHAZAM television program then airing on CBS Saturday Mornings.

Consequently, Billy Batson was on detached assignment from WHIZ Television, roaming the country and reporting initially on the bicentennial celebration, and then other similar events after 1976 wound down. Along for the ride was Uncle Dudley, who had grown a mustache so that he would more readily resemble Les Tremayne, who played Mentor on the television program. They used a Winnebago as a mobile television studio, similar to the series, and carried with them a device that allowed them to ask the sage council of the six gods and heroes whose initials empowered Billy when he said Shazam.

Writer E. Nelson Bridwell, who was a major fan of Cap’s 1940s adventures, too his cues from a series of stories in which Billy and Captain Marvel visited real cities around the nation, and interacted with the local sales reps for those areas--a bit of glad-handing that helped to insure prominent placement for Fawcett’s titles. As this issue opens up, Billy and Uncle Dudely are in Columbus, Ohio, where they dine at the restaurant owned by Jack Weston, formerly the star-spangled hero called Minute Man.

As they chat with Weston, the restaurant is robbed by a sextet of costumed women, each one wielding powers related to one of the six gods and heroes whose initials form Shazam. Billy summons Captain Marvel, but the big lug’s chivalry won’t let him hit a women, and so the criminal gang smothers him with kisses, driving him off. It’s a sad moment for Captain Marvel--and one that felt a little bit out-of-step even when I first read it in 1977. Surely Cap didn’t need to punch these women in order to detain and defeat them.

The six women report back to their patron, Mr. Wonderful, who reveals how he empowered them and who cackles in a sinister and distinctive laugh. But he’s upset that Dynamoll used radiation against Captain Marvel rather than lightning as he’d ordered. Meanwhile, seeking a solution to Marvel’s difficulty, Dudley and Weston consult with Achilles, who tells them a tale of the Trojan War, and how he was helped out of a jam by his friend Patroclus. Weston takes this as a cue to get back into costume, and it isn’t long before Minute Man is on the streets again.

And it’s a good thing, too, because Dynamoll has located Captain Marvel, and zaps him with lightning that transforms him back into Billy. She’s able to bind and gag him before he can say Shazam, and so Billy is helplessly brought back to Mr. Wonderful’s headquarters. The cackling villain places Billy underneath what must be the lightest 5 ton weight in existence, given that it’s held aloft by only a single strand of rope, and prepares to drop it on Billy’s head.

Just then, Minute Man appears, pulling the gag off Billy’s mouth just in time for him to say Shazam and for the weight to shatter across Captain marvel’s indestructible body. But Marvel still won’t hit a woman, so he’s in trouble--until Minute Man wades into the fray, getting knocked around like crazy. This prompts Marvel to use passive resistance to overcome his female foes, and he calmly dispatches them all one-by-one without needing to strike them. You could have done that at the start, you know, Cap! Wisdom of Solomon indeed! Anyway, Captain Marvel DOES slug Mr Wonderful, who flies apart in a shower of sparks--he was a robot.

And not just any robot, but one being piloted by Captain Marvel’s old enemy Mister Mind, the malevolent worm. Here’ Bridwell takes a moment to clear up a bit of continuity that must have been bothering him since the SHAZAM series launched in 1973: wasn’t Mr. Mind electrocuted at the end of the Monster Society of Evil serial that ran through WHIZ COMICS in the 1940s? Turns out that he was able to control the executioner and replace his body with that of a double. While Marvel is gaping at this new knowledge, Mind slips away--but not before indicating that he has business to attend to in Detroit next. That’s going to be Billy and Marvel’s new destination as well, and so marvel bids goodbye to Minute Man, who is considering coming out of retirement and remaining active as a super hero. But this never happened--this was the final appearance of Minute Man in a DC book for decades.

#Shazam #Captain Marvel #Mr Mind #E. Nelson Bridwell #Minute Man #Fawcett #DC

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notesofarichlycolorednight · 6 years

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Hi! How do you think Luke's personality would be if he survived, and how would it change during the years? I'm not talking about the campers' reactions,but how Luke would think and act.

hello hello!

oh man, that’s an interesting question and i LOVE IT

so by the wording of your question, it sounds like if the titan war still happened, but luke somehow survived after getting rid of kronos, how he might change in the yrs following

and so, hcs!! in bullet-form!! as always under a cut

so he luke miraculously survives hitting his achilles’ heel

and let’s pretend the gods are a sliver decent and actually fulfill percy’s wish/reward, which now includes luke since he’s alive, and did help save the gods in the end

so he’s not exactly punished, but he is being monitored heavily, almost like he’s on parole or smth

i know it’s hard to believe they’d completely let him off, even in this au, so i’ll throw in a magical ankle bracelet that monitors him–he can’t take it off (without the gods being alerted), or go outside of nyc’s five boroughs, which includes into any magical realms (like the underworld, since there’s an entrance in central park)

if he heads into areas that have high demigod activity/magical auras, with chb as the exception, it alerts whoever now has the task of monitoring him to keep a closer eye on him for that time he’s there

suspicious activity is flagged, and they can recall him to mt olympus and detain him at any time if they think that he’s becoming a danger to the gods again

speaking of chb, i don’t think he’d be able to stay there after the titan war, too many painful memories–too many ppl who hate him, or don’t trust him, etc.

it’s hard to say what his and annabeth’s relationship would be. as i’ve said in a previous ask, i think luke was asking if annabeth still considered him family, and she does. but i think luke would be too guilt-ridden to interact with her at first

not to mention that percy is v protective, and while they may have had a tender moment abt not letting all that happen again, i think percy would have a hard time trusting him

thalia’s now with the hunters, and has clearly shown what she thinks of luke’s betrayal, so that’s no good either

i think grover would be more open to luke, but luke would probably avoid him like he avoid annabeth bc of the guilt. and grover’s a busy satyr now, so that doesn’t help

so basically anyone he considered close to him in childhood is on shaky ground and he’s not sure what to do abt that, bc demigods are only taught abt fighting and battle, instead of that and emotional and psychological health wheeeeeee

since he can’t leave nyc, he finds like a hostel or smth to stay in while he figures shit out and tries to get back on his feet

he’s suffering p heavily from ptsd and still has terrible nightmares abt kronos and being possessed by kronos, which doesn’t help

he can’t hold a steady job bc he only knows how to fight and has no social skills whatsoever, so he becomes some low-level conman to make some income

he still hates his father, so it’s hard to acknowledge that his father’s skills are helping hi survive right now, as much as he’d like to believe that he’s surviving all on his own

at some point, he tries to con one of the demigods who’ve made it without chb (a demigod whose parent is a minor god). thankfully, they’re nice abt it and introduce him to a demigod underworld, so to speak

i wouldn’t say it’s as sinister as our criminal underworld–it’s really more of a society of demigods who were forgotten (unclaimed kids) or never made it to camp (children of minor gods), but found a way to survive with little to no training from camp, despite the monsters and technology

luke is suddently introduced to a whole new world, and that’s when his life really starts moving forward again

these demigods are angry and bitter, yeah, but they take that and turn it into motivation to live and thrive–basically living bc of spite. fuck the gods, fuck my parents, i’ll show them i don’t need them or chb

(like rick has this weird thing abt writing kids who say that, but then talk abt how much they want their godly parent’s approval. or to prove that they’re worth of their godly parent’s attention. and like i get why, but that’s not true for everyone??? having been adopted, i come from a perspective of, yeah, i am a little curious abt who my biological parents are, but i’m not dying to reunite with them or anything bc i don’t need to??? i have everything i need right here–a loving mom, and awesome friends, who i would consider family. even if i did want to know who they were, their approval of who i am now doesn’t matter to me. i don’t need to prove anything to them, nor should i need to for their attention. like that’s shitty to expect that from your child, and a horribly mindset to instill in a child)

and so i imagine it’s the same for a lot of demigods, too /tangent

anyway, so i’d like to think that this society is pretty structured–it’s a mish-mash of kids of major gods who were never claimed and of minor gods. some do resort to criminal activity, others work minimum wage jobs, and still others who are making higher than minimum wage, with some even making six figures ya know. basically they still function within the larger mortal society, but they’re also part of this hidden demigod society, you feel?

but they always take in demigods who could use some help out in the real world, regardless of who their parents are and whether or not they’ve been claimed/lived at chb

hephaestus kids have built a closed-circuit network that makes tech safer for them to use, and it also helps them communicate with each other as well as any mortal they make friends with, etc.

and their secret society is hidden within a company (kinda like how the three roman emperors hid themselves within a company, except without the evil part), and it’s v socialist–so they do what they can to help those who don’t have anything, until they can get back on their feet, and then put back into the society and help others

so luke is introduced to this hidden world within the mortal one of new york

i’d like to think he’s p instantly recognizable (to most, not all), but they don’t hold any grudges or bitterness like those at chb to bc they understand that he was fighting for them, even if he was going abt it the wrong way

some put him on a pedestal (he’s the face of our hidden society or he could take up the company or smth), but another kid of hermes comes along and shows him the ropes, not expecting anything from him

they get him therapy to work on his anger issues as well as his ptsd, and he slowly learns social skills

there are two large apt buildings that the company owns that only house demigods (but not all the demigods who are part of this society), and they find him a small one bed/one bath apartment to live in

as he gets better, he stops resorting to criminal activity and finds a steady job working at a tech company, bc he doesn’t have to interact with ppl like in retail, and when he does, its coworkers who think the same as he does

i also like to think he starts mend those relationships he lost with annabeth and grover. thalia’s a little harder to reach, but once he starts communicating with annabeth more, annabeth tells thalia abt his progress, and thalia sneaks away to visit him on occasion

it’s rough at first, as it always is, bc he did a lot of bad things and hurt a lot of ppl

but he apologizes to all of them–annabeth, grover, thalia, and even percy

they start to hang out occasionally, and luke almost become a mentor to percy again

(we’re kinda ignoring hoo rn for luke’s mental health, but percy most definitely talks to luke abt how he can see where luke was coming from during the second titan war after that whole prophecy nightmare)

eventually, they become friends, even family

he’s happy to hear that the camp is expanding, allowing minor demigods; the hermes cabin is far less crowded

but luke still holds a lot of anger and bitterness. even living within this secret society, it’s yet another symptom of the gods’ lack of caring (like the crowded hermes cabin)

even with percy’s request and the expanding camp, luke still hears of demigods joining their society, which is a little disheartening if only bc it still represents the gods’ lack of caring

with the help of therapy, tho, he’s learning to channel is anger into smth productive

instead of trying to raise evil entities, he throws himself into the business that their society is hidden in. he wants to know all the inner workings of both the demigod and mortal side bc he wants to help as many demigods he can

bc in the end, he’s still a scared, lost little nine year old boy who just wants someone to be there for other demigods since no one was there for him

oh and speaking of, he finds the courage to visit him mom again! annabeth goes with him, since he’s still working through all that shit with his therapist (and lbr, that’s smth that someone might never work through, just learn to cope with)

i wouldn’t say he visits her often, but he spends some of his income and hires a caregiver to help around the house, but also to take care of may. since the prophecy has been fulfilled, her visions aren’t as bad, and she doesn’t have so many spells, but her mind is still quite lost bc the curse is still there

eventually, luke works his way up the ranks of the company bc he sees the good that this society is doing, and wants to be a part of that. he can finally help these demigods that doesn’t involve destroying the world

he starts to visit camp a little, but usually only talks with chiron abt the changes that they could make to the camp to better help the kids there. the whole place, tho, still holds a lot of painful memories that luke would just rather forget. so he doesn’t go often

it’s a long, long process and luke stays in therapy indefinitely, but the work he’s doing with the company, and the demigods he interacts with on a daily basis help him a lot

he slowly heals, and mends fences, as well as makes new friends and bonds

he never truly lets go of his anger and bitterness, and for the most part he just kinda ignores the gods. remembering what he did during the titan war still haunts him, but he uses those memories as a reminder and promises to never do anything like that again

and this time he keeps his promise!

*sniffles* look at my bby boy growing up and healing.

despite liking white collar!luke (which i could see this so easily sprouting from your initial question), i wanted to take this in a different route and really delve into his healing process bc it’s like a salve to my soul. it’s so easy to ignore emotional and psychological health, but for anyone it’s so, so important to address those issues and work through them ya know?

like i advocate for mental health and stability! as well as emotional healing, esp for men bc it breaks down that toxic masculinity. and toxic masculinity often does lead to expressions of anger and violence in men in our society

i could probably say more, but i’ll leave it there for now. it feels like a good stopping point. hmu if you’d like to hear more specifics abt anything within this au!! i’d be happy to write more abt this au :D

thanks for sending this in, anon!!

#oh god for shame! i do not even know your name #notesofananonymousnight #asked and answered #luke castellan #pjo hcs #pjo au

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lucifercaelestis · 7 years

Text

Sheith Fic Rec Part 2

Hey, so I’m back with more fics. Honestly I haven’t read that many fics lately, kinda distracted by trying to write my own, here’s to hoping it goes well, right? But the fandom deserves something nice in the light of all the troll fics that were posted. I was wondering if I should update my old rec list? Or should I combine this one and the other one into one massive list? What do you guys think? Anyway, same formula, titles are links and bolded, italics are my commentary. Happy reading!

Link to the last fic rec masterpost: http://lucifercaelestis.tumblr.com/post/157021445683/sheith-fic-rec

One-shots (Canon-verse)

orbit by Recluse (T) 21k

"Hey, nice to meet you. Keith, right? I'm Shiro."

Shiro and Keith’s backstory fic, and wow, I was not expecting how it all happened. 11/10 would read again

grief by Recluse (T) 4.5k

There are five stages.

Obligatory Keith grieving over Shiro fic.

it’s not a star i see (it’s always you) by janie_tangerine (E) 18.5k

in which both Keith and Shiro are stuck with birthdays on dates they don't like. Meeting each other makes it more than just a bit better.

Birthday fic that combines Keith’s backstory and major Keith feels with Shiro and god just read the fic please, it’s worth it.

Break Out by reinkist (E) 10.8k

An unexpected reaction to the alien plant life forces Keith and Shiro to have to reevaluate what their relationship is, and what it could be.

Sex pollen fic. Warning for dubious consent. Trope-y as it is, I like how it forces them to confront with certain things.

Falling Forward by flyingisland (T) 3.5k

Shiro is a romantic catastrophe, even with an excellent wingman like Pidge.

Pining Shiro is the best.

crash collide into space by ohmygodwhy (T) 2.6k

Shiro’s gone and all he has left of him are a shitty couch and a few pictures on his phone and dog tags that he’s afraid to touch because touching them feels like accepting the fact that Shiro will never touch them again. If he holds them for long enough any traces of Shiro’s touch will be wiped away and replaced, like they were never there to begin with, like Shiro was never there to begin with.

They deserve to be happy together goddamnit.

distance and the time between us by samalane (T) 7.2k

If Keith had known that an impromptu dance party was the much needed catalyst concerning his and Shiro's non-relationship, he'd have signed himself up for one a long time ago.

Alternatively: in which people get drunk, dance, and confess for the second time.

I love the tiny details inserted into the fic, a different kind of backstory/friendship between Shiro and Keith and how hopeful it ends.

My Favorite Tune Is The One That Sounds Like Me And You by starticker/ @starticker (T) 3k

The Castle of Lions malfunctions again. Fortunately, the results are much less sinister this time around.

(Honestly, Keith preferred the murder attempts.)

This is so cute and I love the moment of realization that occurs later in the fic.

Paint it Black by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)/ @bosstoaster (T) 4k

The team accidentally discovers that the Art of Painting will almost immediately knock out everyone except Keith.

Keith takes advantage of the peace to do one of his favorite things: Draw. More specifically, drawing Shiro.

This really is cute, but believable. Also, they all need a break and they got it, thank god.

make my heart bleed out my chest by ShirosRedKnight (SweetFanfics)/ @shirosredknight (E) 5.5k

Fuck, my head hurts so bad, Shiro groans to himself, raising his hand up to touch his pounding head. What the hell did I do last night? And why the hell does my body feel so heavy?

He’s gone through a fair number of bad hangovers but Shiro’s never had one where his body feels like it’s weighed down by rocks. Right as he starts to raise himself up on his elbows, there’s the softest snorting noise from his chest. Shiro opens his eyes and stares blearily down at the dark head resting on his chest.

What the...

Keith’s fast asleep on his chest, arms sweetly curled between their bodies. His confusion turns to sharp dread as soon as he recognizes Keith. But the feeling swiftly turns to embarrassed dismay when Keith’s sleepy wriggle makes Shiro realize they’re both naked in his bed. He’s naked in his bed with his best friend slash the person he’s been crushing on for months.

I’m all for mutual pining, especially pining Shiro. The feelings were very nice and I love how it’s resolved.

(Don’t) Stand (So) Close To Me by marinoxx (E) 11k

A certain cadet phases into Shiro's life like a vision, or maybe a dream. He hasn't fallen for him, definitely not. It's just impossible to resist unraveling the heavenly enigma that is Keith.

TL;DR: Keith's been stimulating Shiro since the Garrison and nothing has changed just because they're in space.

Very nice Pining Shiro, just really good garrison Sheith tbh.

baby loves to dance in the dark by Itgoeson (M) 8.1k

“Believe me, I’ve got better things to look at than Shiro’s eyes when he’s working out,” Lance mutters. Keith doesn’t think he’s supposed to hear it.

Featuring: Shiro's eyeliner, Schrodinger's relationship, Keith and Pidge on a mission for Voltron, Hunk and Lance on a mission to figure out Shiro's beauty secrets, and healthy relationships.

I love this author’s take on Shiro and Keith’s dynamic, the inclusion of the others was great too, all in all, A++.

Loving Me’s Like Chewing on Pearls by Itgoeson (Unrated) 18.4k

Shiro works through some issues, the team bonds, and foreign planets have their own wars and conflicts. Voltron finds a way to make it all work, no matter how hard life gets.

I’ve already said that I love this particular author’s take on Shiro and Keith’s dynamic, but this fic hurt me real good.

Young, and in Fields by verdenal (T) 3k

Or: 5 times someone caught Shiro napping on Keith, and one time no one saw Keith sleeping on Shiro. [pre-s2]

Finally they get to rest! I’m all for them getting a break, bless you OP.

The Closest I Get by inkfishie/ @inkfishie (E) 10.7k

“I want to kiss you,” Keith says, voice hushed.

His breath is a warm puff against Shiro’s mouth. They practically are. Kissing, that is. Shiro can feel the tickle of Keith’s mildly chapped lips very close to his own. It’s tempting. Shiro presses closer and nudges his nose against Keith’s. He breathes in their closeness.

Keith and Shiro spend Valentine's Day together following Shiro's Year in captivity.

Very nice and very hot Valentine’s day fic, please read for the feelings.

One-shots (AU)

those imprints your soul left behind by wolfsan11 (T) 4.1k

He wonders, at times, what he’s meant to be doing. Mortals come and go, hurricanes lash at his home (his prison) before moving on to haunt another stretch of water, but he? He remains. Unstable and unknowing, yet permanent.

There must be some purpose to him here. Surely.

In which Keith is Te-Fiti and Shiro is also Te-Fiti, until the day Shiro goes missing. Then, there is only Te-Ka.

I never knew I needed this until I read it, so many emotions just !!!!

Unfold Your Wings As You Fall by Aer (G) 10.3k

There's nothing Shiro wants so much as he does for Keith to fly with him.

When I read the summary, my mind just started chanting ‘Wing AU, Wing AU, Wing AU’ very excitedly. I’ve been waiting so long to read a Sheith Wing AU fic and this one did not disappoint.

Loved The Stars Too Fondly by armedarchaeologist (G) 3.1k

Keith fell in love with the stars in the sky and the stars on his arms.

A soulmate AU where whatever you write on your body appears on your soulmate's.

Sheith soulmate AU with stars??? Definitely a must-read.

Complete Multi-chapter (Canon-verse)

hello, i love you, won’t you tell me your name by perzimon (T) 12.3k 2/2

Keith's human enough to have wisdom teeth and unlucky enough to need them extracted. The team despairs.

Best humour I’ve ever seen in a fic, I was laughing the entire time I read this, and still laughed every single time I reread it.

For Everything a Reason by flyingisland (T) 23k 3/3

In Keith's life, the only true absolute was that everyone would always leave in the end.

Obligatory Keith backstory rec, but not obligatory at all because reading this was fantastic!

For Your Actions are Mine by wolfsan11 (G) 3k 2/2

The Red Lion has awaited her Paladin for years, but the figure who fights to reach her is neither what she expects nor wants. Yet, after her imprisonment, perhaps this little one is simply what she needs.

The Black Lion has been left in the dark for far too long. Strung between her two Paladins, old and new, past and present, is that much more difficult. In the end, it comes down to trust and saving each other.

The Lions!!! And Sheith!!! I love this combo, we need more of this.

Strengths and weaknesses by Latart0903 (E) 90.3k 28/28

“You're obviously not the same person you were before Kerberos, you-” Keith aborted his rant.

“We...knew each other? Before? So, we were friends?”

“Something like that…”

-----

Or: How Keith and Shiro's paths cross prior to Kerberos

Garrison Sheith backstory, all the way up to Shiro’s arrival on Earth.

Ongoing Multi-chapter (Canon-verse)

LAZARUS by Glossolalia/ @fenri (E) Currently 10.5k, 2/9

A binary black hole is a system consisting of two black holes that orbit one another.

Shiro's unforeseen disappearance and Judas play forces Keith to claim his place as Black Paladin, but after a series of obstacles, Keith finds himself stepping down to let someone other than Shiro and him adopt the title 'Black Paladin.' With only the mask of his mentor to guide him and a failing sense of place, Keith has to flip the coin of 'How to Fight a War.' Paladin or Blade of Marmora? Love or chasing a ghost? One of the hardest life lessons is understanding there's a fine line to everything.

“Oh, sweetheart—he liked you, didn’t he?”

The words are a blade beneath the ribs, but instead of scooting backwards, Keith grabs a bar and yanks himself forward. He presses his forehead to the cool steel and yearns. It’s his turn to breathe hard.

“Shiro.”

“Not Shiro.”

I cannot begin to describe how much this fic has hurt me, please read it.

When You Rise by Dragonescence (M) Currently 21.3k, 6/?

For a year Keith waited for Shiro. Now Shiro waits for Keith, haunted by his newly-returned memories of their relationship, praying to whoever who would listen for his baby to wake up.

He's not the only one struggling. And when Keith does wake up, the Voltron family are up to the task of dealing with the changes that follow. Because that's what families do.

Warning for not really graphic rape/non-con in the beginning if I’m not mistaken? Not between the main pairing, but… This fic is really good, I love how the author incorporates all the other characters into the fic.

Sleeping With Ghosts by lemoninagin (M) Currently 10k, 2/3

No one else had ever been loved so deeply by Takashi Shirogane, loved so steadily and enveloped with such care and passion, only to have it cruelly ripped away from them without a moment’s notice.

No, no one had.

No one but him.

A study of Keith while he was in that desert, really sad but worth reading.

Astronomy in Reverse by nsfwlings (E) 3.2k

Shiro and Keith’s friendship kicks off almost immediately when they meet, despite Keith’s initial wariness of Shiro’s kindness. It becomes something much more to Shiro, but he’s not willing to admit it; instead they fall into a mutually beneficial sexual relationship with no romantic strings attached, as is Shiro’s usual way. As for Keith, it takes the Kerberos disaster to hit home what Shiro really means to him.

Or: A gradual falling in love based on mutual respect and attraction, but not without some misunderstandings and an unwanted alien abduction throwing a spanner in the works.

Sheith FWB au, set in canon, with them gradually falling in love??? I can’t ask for anything more than this.

Ongoing Multi-chapter (AU)

Let’s Play by risotto (T) Currently 17.9k, 4/?

Voltron: Legendary Defender, is the action-RPG reboot of an 80s classic with graphics and gameplay more befitting the 2010s. It’s the latest sensation, popular among the retro gaming crowd and Millenials alike. And, like with most trends, Keith’s late to the party. Sort of.

(Alternate summary: Keith meets Shiro and the others online and they play video games like the dorks they are. Also, Keith develops a crush.)

Voltron gaming AU, everyone is in-character and sweet, sweet slow burn, what more could I ask for?

The Professional by TruebornAlpha/ @runicscribbles & @itdans (E) Currently 8.8k 1/3

Shiro is trapped in a life of expectations and responsibility. The black sheep of a prominent business empire, he struggles to come to terms with the tragedy that knocked his life off course. He starts looking for solace through unconventional means.

Keith is ready to offer his services for a price, and it doesn't hurt that Shiro looks so good on his knees.

Dom Keith, AKA sign me tf up.

Series (Canon-verse)

little star chasers by ohmygodwhy (T) Total 23.4k 3 fics

there's an empty space between keith's clavicle and the top of his ribcage, and sometimes he thinks one of shiro’s smiles could fill it up forever, even before he reaches the stars.

The descriptions are so lovely and amazing and the characterization, especially Keith’s, is just so good!

Series (AU)

Voyager by dawnstruck/ @dawnstruck (E) 39k

The bastard prince of Galra develops a fascination with the human champion and the stars are all too familiar with unlikely lovers.

In all honesty, this one was a guilty pleasure that turned into plain fascination for the dynamic this author has created between them. I can’t wait to see what happens next.

PWP

Not So Private by Skalidra (E) 3.2k

Shiro knew it was a bad idea to let Keith talk him into fooling around in the semi-public showers. Knew it, but did it anyway. It's not entirely surprising that someone walks in on them.

Whistles innocently, it’s better than the description for sure.

Late Night Thirst by weabooflower (E) 6k

Keith is having trouble sleeping and ventures out to get a drink.

The title speaks for itself…

sweet revelation by stimhack (E) Currently 32k, 7/?

Keith Kogane needs to let off some steam after coming into contact with way too much Takashi Shirogane, the golden boy of Galaxy Garrison. He ends up with a paid subscription to PaladinsLive and a hard-on for a faceless stranger behind a webcam, but his crush on Shiro isn't getting any easier to handle. One hot guy ruining his life is bad enough, but two? Keith's hormones are going to be the death of him.

Camboy Shiro fic, enough said.

Vertigo by flyingisland (E) 6.2k

Mixed up laundry and unspoken feelings put Shiro in a precarious situation.

The whole situation is both hilarious and deeply sad somehow.

Reasons by Ithiel_Dragon (E) Total 15.3k, 2 fics

Tooth rotting fluff, angst, and smut. No real plot. Yet anyway.

I like all the feelings going on, the uncertainty and push-pull of their relationship.

Brand New Moves by flyingisland (E) 5.4k

Did Keith want to reward him, or punish him? He’s starting to feel like it’s a little bit of both.

Keith in lingerie fic, surely something we all need.

lend a helping hand by aubadezayn (E) 4.4k

omega!keith is about to go into his first heat since having left earth, and there's a distinct lack of sex toys/aids in space so alpha!shiro offers his totally "platonic" assistance. his hand vibrates, who knows why? it does though, and he's going to help keith get through the week with minimal pain because that's what friends are for right?

or omega!keith and alpha!shiro pine after each other desperately and are oblivious to the other's desire for them.

Omegaverse pining pwp…

Something Else by Mool (E) 14.7k 3/3

Keith noticed something was different with Shiro.

With a suggestion of trying something new with their sex life, Shiro starts acting differently around Keith. With prolonged gazes, lingering touches, and a newly insatiable appetite, Keith isn't one to complain. But as their sexual adventures progress and Shiro's actions become more pronounced, Keith starts thinking it's something else.

Sounds like there's plot but it's actually just a whole lot of smut.

Lots of smut and some misunderstandings but the ending was A++.

Bang Bang by ashinan smut (ashinan)/ @ashinan (E) 2.7k 6/?

A series of NSFW Sheith prompts received and completed on tumblr

Some of these are just really...wow. 10/10 would definitely read again.

Closet Confessional by evaunit0 (E) 5k

Keith is a cadet notorious for being on any and every disciplinary list, and Shiro starts noticing it.

Garrison Sheith PWP...

Clear Intentions by HiddenEye (E) 7k

“At least, he's relaxed, though?”

He only shoots her a smirk, and she rolls her eyes before going through the tablet again from where she sits on one of the chairs near the windows, legs folded neatly on one another. “I don't know why I even ask the obvious. How stupid of me.”

He shrugs. “I thought you knew my intent.”

Everyone needs to relax in some way right?

Post S2

One-shots

Unchanging by madkingray/ @madkingray (G) 2.3k

“Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

Keith doesn’t look at him, staring down at his lap. His voice is hesitant and quiet, like it’s hard for him to ask (knowing Keith, it probably is). “That I’m part Galra?”

“No,” Shiro answers immediately. “It doesn’t bother me. Having Galra blood doesn’t make you Galra. It doesn’t automatically mean you’re like the ones we’re fighting every day. You’re still you, Keith, and that’s all that matters to me.”

The hurt/comfort post Ep8 fic we all need.

echoes (i’m right here) by katebishoop (Unrated) 3.3k

Shiro disappears, but he never really leaves.

This hurt me quite a bit.

constant state of the damned by HiddenEye (G) 4.3k

The dark attire he wore was a contrast in the room he was in, a stranger among the midst, Galra among Altea. Shiro wondered how he felt about that.

It was then Shiro saw the way his fingers flexed before the Galra spoke, “How long do you plan to stand there?”

I will hoard every BoM Keith fic close to my heart, my eternal weakness.

Abundant of Denial by HiddenEye (T) 4.2k

“I was simply pointing out how you don't usually expose about yourself in front of strangers.”

“I don't.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, as you see,” Ulaz continued, and his light tone made Keith tense more. “The Blade doesn't forbid relationships.”

Keith couldn't escape the type of interrogation the members of the Blade would give him even if he wanted to, especially if this had to do with his lack of personal life.

Sequel to constant state of the damned, with Keith’s numerous father figures and lots of teasing!

we can only do our best (to recreate) by wolfsan11 (T) 7.3k

With the loss of Shiro still fresh on their minds, the Paladins try and cope by revisiting happier memories. Keith ends up revealing more than he means to about how he and Shiro first met.

Or, Keith struggles through the Garrison, meets Shiro and gives him a less-than-stellar not-quite-first impression.

Obligatory Shiro is gone and the team bonds during his absence with added Sheith backstory and Keith feels.

Coelestis by WhisperingOrchard (E) 9.9k

Their love was birthed among the cosmos, thriving in a plane of existence neither fully understood. Of only two things Keith was certain—that their time together was limited, and that he would make the most of said time with his ever fiber.

Or;

Keith and Shiro's "first time" together in the astral plane.

Loving all the star imagery and just how pretty it was, if kinda sad.

Handful by HiddenEye (T) 13.1k

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, if you're a purple baby who just discovered the concept of moving from one place to another on your own, where would you be?”

A mission that was supposed to be easy swerved into a loop when Keith found something buried deep under the debris, one that made the team think of building beds, baby-proofing every corner of the castle, and thinking of ways to calm down a clingy Galra.

I’m not really one for kidfics, not unless it’s really, really good, but this one was. It shattered all my expectations and left me wanting more desperately.

Worth the Wait by mikkimouse (T) 3.1k

The Castle of the Lions is huge. Even after living in it for as long as he has, Keith still boggles sometimes at how freaking big it is. With only seven people and five sentient robot Lions living there, he could spend days wandering the halls and never run across another person.

And yet, finding a time that he and Shiro can be alone, without any interruptions, is impossible.

A+ humour, and I just love certain lines. Also the end was just great, very fulfilling.

Ground to stand on (with you) by snofeey (Unrated) 9.2k

“How do you feel about it all?” Shiro asked. “The being part-Galra.”

Keith shrugged. “At first, I didn’t want to believe it. Especially with those nightmares. But now? Doesn’t really matter, I suppose. Trying to think about it like being Asian. Affects what I look like, not who I am.”

Shiro smiled. “You’re amazing, you know that? Not everyone would be able to say that.”

There had been too much revealed by the Blade of Marmora for anyone to be comfortable with. Keith's disappeared, Shiro's wondering how to apologize, and Allura's furious. But a late night has Shiro and Keith working through fears and worries, lingering anxieties, and the fear that this new revelation brought with it, and in the end, they stand taller for it.

Post ep8 character fic that I needed, thank you.

In my right hand there’s the great unknown by PaladinofFeels

After the fight against Zarkon Shiro wakes up but soon realizes that he's not home. He's not even in his universe. He's stuck jumping from alternative universe to alternative universe, watching how tiny decisions change everything about their lives.

It's not always for the better.

Now he has to find a way to go back home, even if he doesn't understand why this is happening to him in the first place.

Shiro jumping through alternate universe fic, really sad but somehow hopeful too?

Multi-chapter

Distal Coordinates by saltyseaachips (E) Currently 21k, 4/?

All his life Keith had been fighting things he doesn't know of yet.

(Later he finds answers and questions in a person and place he's never dreamed of.)

BoM Keith with such an interesting plot? The suspense is keeping me hanging off the edge of my seat.

Disowned by kittypox (M) Currently 28.4k, 8/?

The ultimatum was clear and simple: betray the resistance and be reunited with his son or die a traitor and have his son used regardless. The choice is obvious to Thace, but he knows team Voltron will not give up one of their own so easily. There may be a way to salvage the situation, but the Galra have more than one back handed card to play. Meanwhile, Shiro is determined to do anything to get Keith back.

I am so excited for this fic, I can never anticipate what’s coming next and it’s amazing!

The Alpha Hunter by kittypox (E) 18.3k 4/?

Back in the leader seat after 3 years of imprisonment Shiro struggles to maintain his focus pursuing the end of the Galra empire while fighting a war with himself. He is the alpha, the leader, but he doesn’t feel that way any longer. He had prayed that Keith would be able to pull him back from the brink, but his mate is distant, hostile even. They have both suffered but they’ll suffer more if they don’t mend their bond. It’s a solution that sounds easy in theory, but not so much so when Shiro realizes his mate has picked up some unsavory past times in his absence.

Really heartbreaking future fic with ABO-verse ties.

Picosecond by Glossolalia/ @fenri (M) 23.5k

It's been eight years since the fall of the Galra Empire. While most of the Paladins of Voltron have gone their separate ways as friends, it's the Black and Red Paladin who've parted on uncivil terms. At Commander Allura’s side, Shiro is now a married man and father overseeing the birth of the universe's peacetimes, and Keith, a bounty hunter, is avoiding any association with the newly established Interuniversal Alliance for Planetary Peace.

It’s by accident Keith finds himself working alongside the man he's tried to run from.

It’s by accident Keith finds himself in the same man's bed.

Future fic that fucks with my heart, man, The dread that I feel reading this fic is only equaled by how much I need to read it. Warning for infidelity, but honestly, I’m pretty sure you’re still gonna want to read it.

#voltron #voltron: legendary defender #sheith #takashi shirogane #keith #fic rec #my stuff

318 notes · View notes

preserving-ferretbrain · 5 years

Text

Review and Discussion: The Age of the Five Trilogy

by Dan H

Saturday, 05 April 2008

Dan starts another of his multi-part epic review thingys.~

This is the first installment of a two-part review/article about Trudi Canavan's Age of the Fivetrilogy. The first part is going to be about the books, the second part is going to be me rambling about religion in fantasy in general, using AotF as a starting point.

Before I launch into the review proper, I'll point out that (like most Ferretbrain reviews) this article is going to involve in-depth discussion of specific details of the plot and events of the novel series it concerns. Or, to put it more succinctly, this will contain spoilers. Potentially massive spoilers, from the outset (Rosebud is really a man!).

You may recall that I was

embarrassingly enthusiastic

about Canavan's debut Black Magician Trilogy. I'm somewhat less enthusiastic about Age of the Five. I'd say that is isn't as good, but that wouldn't be entirely accurate. It's exactly as good, and that's sort of the problem. The writing is of a similar quality, the characters are similarly well realised, and the world is similarly detailed. It's just that there's a lot more of everything and, in fantasy, more is quite frequently less.

To elaborate: in The Black Magician trilogy we have a spunky heroine with great magical powers who gets drawn into an ancient magical conflict in a vaguely interesting Fantasy world. In The Age of the Five trilogy we have a spunky heroine with great magical powers who gets drawn into an ancient magical conflict in a vaguely interesting Fantasy world. Now I know that's a cheap shot, because you can always characterise Fantasy novels as having broadly the same plot (guy goes on a quest to do a thing) but there's enough similarities between the two trilogies that Age of the Five leaves you with the sneaking feeling that you've read a lot of it before, even before you take into account the fact that it's significantly longer than the earlier series. It's little things, like the fact that both series treat "magic" as this energy source that you move around with your mind, and use primarily to create forcefields and bolts of magical power. It's an aesthetic quibble I know, but I could deal with it in the BMT because they were short and character focused. In AotF we've got a much longer series, with a far bigger world, and a lot more characters, but the magic still doesn't feel magical, it's still forcefields and laser beams.

Anyway, on to the actual books.

Priestess of the White

Priestess of the White introduces Auraya, the eponymous priestess, as she is initiated into the White, the five immortal servants of the Circle - the five Gods whose priests rule the northern half of the continent of Ithania.

Perhaps now would be a good time to say a bit about the Gods, because they're going to be quite important. Basically the Five Gods - Chaia, Huan, Lore, Yranna and Saru - are a bunch of Star Trek aliens, they're glowy energy beings (that is to say "beings of pure magic") who get mortals to do their bidding but don't seem to actually do that much which is particularly divine. When we are first introduced to the Gods (through Auraya) we see them as essentially benevolent beings, although if you're anything like me you'll also be asking yourself why these five creatures who are clearly a bunch of Star Trek Aliens managed to actually build a functioning religion around themselves, and what the heck they get out of it in the first place.

Auraya is immediately plunged into the travails of government, as Northern Ithania is threatened by a group of sinister, black-clad priests from out of the South. These "Pentadrians" also worship five Gods whose names (Sheyr, Hrun, Alor, Ranah, Sraal) sound suspiciously similar to those of the "Circlan" deities. The White, however, know nothing about these people, their beliefs, their powers, or their capabilities.

This brings me to my first niggle with the series. I've discussed in earlier articles the strange absence of immigration in Fantasy - everybody just stays where they're born and never travels, so nobody knows anything about anything happening beyond their borders. This is a particular problem here: the Pendatrians run half the world, you'd think that the White would have made some effort to find out about them. It's like being asked to accept a version of medieval Europe in which the Pope is unaware of the existence of Islam.

Anyway, the Pentadrians are attacking, sending mysterious black-clad sorcerers to tear up the North, and the White have to respond by forging alliances throughout Northern Ithania to stand up to them. Auraya goes off to win the allegiance of the winged Siyee, and develops an affection for them which will stay with her throughout the series.

Oh, she also gets given a cute fluffy talking animal, which is way less annoying than it could have been. Odds on it saving her from imprisonment at some point in the future?

Overlapping the main story (the "dammit, we're being invaded by some guys we inexplicably failed to learn anything about in the past hundred years" story) are a number of other threads. Auraya is aided in her duties by her childhood mentor, later lover, Leiard. Leiard, unfortunately, is a Dreamweaver, a member of a sect which is widely despised by the White and their followers, because their leader, Mirar, was an enemy of the Gods. Their not-actually-that-forbidden-really romance provides a source of tension in the first book, and is complicated by the fact that Leiard appears to be carrying a great many of the memories of the late legendary Mirar around in his head, which he allegedly acquired while dream-linking with other members of his order. Or perhaps he really is Mirar, miraculously alive after all this time (again, would anybody like to lay bets?).

The final plot-strand in the book concerns Emerahl, an immortal "Wild" (a sorceress whose power rivals that of the Gods' chosen) as she tries to evade detection by the Gods, who would destroy her.

Priestess of the White sets the tone for the rest of the series, and some of the things I wound up struggling with are apparent from quite early on. It's a lot more ambitious than the BMT, but that means that it's a lot less focused. The main plotline ("The Pentadrians are coming! The Pentadrians are coming!") is at least resolved but there's an awful lot that's left hanging, or that just winds up being setup for things that happen in book two or three (I'm a bit of a heretic amongst Fantasy readers in that I think this is a bad thing, rather than the mark of a consummate storyteller). Emerahl in particular has very little to actually do in Priestess, spending most of her time hanging out in a brothel which is all very character-establishing, but doesn't actually advance the plot all that much. The Emerahl sections also foreshadow a lot of the "there's something dodgy about the Gods" plotlines which become important in Book 3, but it's all rather distracting in the first volume. It's hard to get invested in Defending Northern Ithania From the Evil Pentadrians when you can be pretty sure that the Gods are going to turn out to be evil anyway rendering all the fighting pointless.

Anyway, the book ends with the Pentadrians defeated, Leiard and Auraya separated, and Emerahl finally in a position to actually do something.

Last of the Wilds

I nearly gave up halfway through Last of the Wilds. I'm sort of glad I didn't, because I do still like Trudi Canavan's writing, and finishing the trilogy was a pleasant enough way to spend the end of my Easter holiday, but Last of the Wilds gave me some real trouble. Middle Volume Syndrome is a well documented problem in Fantasy, and to be fair Wilds is by no means a chronic case. It's just that it's a little bit slow, it doesn't really go that far, and it's very much bridging the gap between the introduction of conflicts in Priestess of the White and their final resolution in Voice of the Gods.

Wilds is basically an extended epilogue to Priestess and an extended prologue to Voice. Auraya dithers around with the Siyee, Leiard finally discovers that he really is Mirar, Emerahl sets out to find the remaining Wilds and ... well that's sort of it really.

There are some big plot events in the book, but they're all towards the end. In the last section of the book, Auraya finally finds out that Leiard really is Mirar, the Gods find out as well and order her to kill him, she refuses, and a chain of events kicks off which finally leads to Auraya coming to the conclusion that hey! The Gods are dodgy! Regrettably, this information comes to her after she starts having sex with one of them.

It's all right as it goes, but it still feels a bit lacklustre. The book starts to get interesting around the point Auraya resigns from the white. Unfortunately this point is also pretty much the end of the book, and the rest of the volume doesn't really do that much except mark time between parts one and three.

The one thing which Wilds does introduce into the series is a Pentadrian viewpoint character. Reivan the Thinker is a member of the academic/scientific/philosophical caste of her society, but soon gets initiated into the Pentadrian priesthood after her quick thinking stops the entire Pentadrian army from being lost in a mine (don't ask). This is on the one hand welcome (it's always nice to see the other side of these kinds of conflicts) but on the other hand a little misguided. There's a reason Tolkein never wrote any scenes from the viewpoint of the Orcs: they didn't make sense, they weren't supposed to make sense, they existed purely for the purpose of attacking the good guys at the behest of their Dark Lord. The problem with suddenly introducing a Pentadrian viewpoint is that they spend quite a lot of time saying "wow, invading Northern Ithania was a really bad idea - it's a shame that the guy whose idea it was got killed so that we can't ask him what the hell he was thinking."

The gap between books one and three duly bridged, this leaves us free to wrap everything up in the final volume.

Voice of the Gods

Voice of the Gods has better pacing than Wilds, but it's still a pale shadow of the fast-moving BMT, and it still involves rather more sitting around than I like in a novel.

Emerahl has embarked on the Quest for the Scroll of the Gods (yes, you did read that right: The Quest for the Scroll of the Gods, check it out). This is an ancient artefact which records the most secretest secrets of the Gods, and which the Gods themselves would naturally like to see destroyed. Before she goes, though, she takes time out to teach Auraya how to shield her mind from the Gods, and be immortal. You see, it turns out that Auraya is a Wild as well, and would be capable of achieving immortality even without the Gods' help.

Auraya, meanwhile, is mostly angsting about (severally) the fact that one of the Gods wants her dead, the fact that she's having sex with another one of them, and the fact that her previous lover turned out to be an immortal sorcerer who her Gods ordered her to kill.

I'm going to take a step back here and say I actually quite like Auraya, but damn if when you step back a bit she doesn't look kinda Mary Sueish. She's an insanely powerful sorcerer with hitherto unknown abilities, granted additional powers by the Gods, one of whom is actually in love with her (and genuinely in love with her, not just using her for sex like he has with vast numbers of mortal women down the ages). She walks out on the Gods who granted her the powers she relies on to do her job, but like Dumbo and the magic feather, it turns out that it was really her own power all along. I get that it's supposed to be "about power, self-realisation and freedom" (according to Trudi's website) but surely an important part of self-realisation is actually realising that you have limitations.

Once she's taught Auraya how to be uber, Emerahl gets back to the Quest for the Scroll of the Gods, which she finds in a well-managed little quest subplot (again, Canavan can do pacing really, really well, and the Scroll of the Gods arc is really nicely done, it's introduced, looked for, found and deciphered without ever becoming boring). Meanwhile Auraya is manipulated by the Evil God Who Wants to Kill Her into getting herself captured by the Pentadrians.

As you should recall (since it was only a few paragraphs ago) book two in the series introduced a Pentadrian viewpoint character by the name of Reivan, and this combined with Mirar's journeys in the south in the final volume served to make the Pentadrians significantly more sympathetic. Fortunately, while most of the Pentadrians are nice, sympathetic, sensible people, the new First Voice of the Gods, Nekaun, is an evil sadistic bastard.

Nekaun was elected in Last of the Wilds to lead the Pentadrians, and spent a large part of that book and this sleeping with Reivan (there's quite a lot of sex in the Age of the Five trilogy). It was, to begin with, somewhat ambiguous whether he actually cared about Reivan, or was just using her for sex, and as it became apparent that he was, in fact, an evil sadistic bastard I increasingly held onto the hope that maybe he would still show genuine affection for Reivan, thus salvaging some degree of moral complexity for the character. No such luck.

Auraya's imprisonment (within a Void, which is basically a D&D dead magic zone, an area with no magical energy which exists almost entirely to explain how it's possible to defeat a powerful sorcerer) results in her being stripped naked and tormented by Nekaun, the evil sadistic bastard, who eventually threatens to rape her and is prevented from doing so only by a personal appearance by his God (who, lest we forget, has a suspiciously similar name to one of the Circlan Gods, who also happens to be in love with Auraya). Were I feeling churlish I'd point out that the God in question is also a serial rapist, which rather undermines his heroism at this point.

All wound up and with nowhere to go, Nekaun then goes to see Reivan and date-rapes her, giving her the good old "you know you're into it really" speech. He then apparently bods off and rapes a couple more people for good measure.

And you were doing so well Trudi Canavan.

Seriously, Fantasy Authors, stop this, stop it right now. If you're going to introduced an unambiguous Villain character, you can communicate the idea that they're Really Really Evil without having them go around raping people. It's cheap. It's cheap and easy. Look, it's like this: by putting a rape scene in a book, you are saying "this is a serious, gritty, realistic world, where really nasty things happen and beating the bad guys doesn't automatically make everything okay again." Putting a rape scene into your light-hearted high fantasy book, in which nasty things happen but get easily reversed by magic, is a bad idea. Making a villain a rapist in order to show how evil he is is a really bad idea, because rape implies realism and unambiguously evil villains imply the opposite.

While Auraya is being tormented by the evil sadistic bastard in the Pentadrian Sanctuary, the Gods decide to start another war by the simple expedient of telling the Circlans to invade the south. The Wilds, having learned that everything the Gods have ever said is a lie (which they knew), that the Gods can't be in two places at once (which they knew), that the Voids are places where Gods were killed (which I for one had already guessed) and that you can kill a god by creating a Void on top of them, by sucking all the magic out the air (I kid you not) but you need six of you in order to "surround" them (one on each side, one above and one below, why the Gods can't move diagonally I'm not sure), decide to ambush the Gods at the battle and finish them off once and for all. Unfortunately for this they need Auraya, and she's currently locked up tighter than a playful euphemism.

Good thing she has that cute cuddly animal really, isn't it.

So Auraya escapes, and teams up with the other White to kill the Gods. Except they don't actually kill them so much as imprison them in a tiny ball of magic so that they can make sure all the Big Revelations are out of the way (the Pentadrian Gods are really the Circland Gods, the Gods don't preserve the souls of dead mortals, the Gods have been manipulating the two churches into open bloody warfare for no clear reason). Then the Good God Who is in Love With Auraya kills himself and the others by draining all the magic out of the Gods' prison, much to the consternation of the Evil God Who Wants To Kill Auraya. Then it's all over bar shouting (and Nehuan gets executed for being a filthy rapist).

In Conclusion

I know this review has been a little bit bitchy, but Age of the Five actually isn't that bad a series. As I said at the start it's not actually worse than the Black Magician trilogy, it's just that I think it would have had to be significantly better than the Black Magician trilogy in order to sustain its greater length and complexity, and it wasn't. I genuinely couldn't put down the BMT, whereas I very nearly stalled in the middle of AotF.

I did have some non-trivial concerns about the series. I've got a whole 'nother article about the religion that I'll be putting up at some point. The series also suffers from what I tend to think of as the Fantasy Absolutist Problem: people are either perfectly sane, reasonable liberals (even if they have Done Horrible Things in the Past), or they're utterly evil. It was why I was so annoyed that Nekaun didn't actually care about Reivan, it seemed that Canavan was unwilling to present her villain as anything but a monster. You get a similar thing with the Gods, Chaia is nice to Auraya and is therefore Good, sacrificing himself nobly at the end. Huan is nasty to Auraya and is therefore Evil, willingly sacrificing her own people just to upset Auraya. Auraya herself is never called upon to do anything unsympathetic - she is spared, for example, having to make the decision to actually kill the Gods herself, somebody else does that for her. It's not a major problem, they're very much High Fantasy books, drawn in broad strokes and bright colours, and there's nothing wrong with that.

In short, the Age of the Five books are good, clean fantasy fun in much the same vein as the Black Magician Trilogy. It's longer and less well paced, but still a nice piece of high fantasy with a suitably epic storyline and some engaging characters.

Even the made-up animals are kind of growing on me.

Finally: I'm terribly sorry to have to do this to you Trudi, but:

Fantasy Rape Watch

Number of Women Raped: 3

Of Whom Viewpoint Characters: 1

Number of times Protagonist Threatened With Rape: 1

Redeeming Features Displayed by Rapist: 0

Characters Shown To Suffer Long-Term Psychological Consequences As A Result of Rape or Threatened Rape: 0

Seriously, guys: stop it.Themes:

Fantasy Rape Watch

Books

Trudi Canavan

Sci-fi / Fantasy

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empink

at 02:13 on 2008-04-06Re: Serious dearth of immigration in fantasy worlds

I was going to blather on about most writers not knowing much about the nuts and bolts of immigration and how that might have some effect on things, but then I realized that research and even the tiniest shot of realism in the arm usually gets immigration and changing countries on the map. I.e., if a romance author (Joanna Bourne) can write a totally awesome story including majorly switching countries all over the place and people having strong ties in both lands, I see no reason why fantasy authors do not. The truth is, fairly ordinary people move around all the time, and have moved around since forever. The distances they move and that sort of thing may increase or decrease with policy, societal expectations and technological aids, but the fact remains essentially the same.

Apart from that, though, I'm glad I didn't bother with this trilogy now. BMT was all right, but not all right enough that I felt like reading the last book (I didn't think anything New and Awesome would happen, and the heroine was kind of irritating my by that point, so). I cannot stand ham-handed "I CAN HAZ RELIGION"-based plots in books anymore, and knowing the heroine of ATF was a priestess just kept holding me back.

Lastly, re unimaginative magic, I'm still really chuffed at the way David Abraham handled magic in his books. I'll describe his magic system with one sentence: poets are the equivalent of magicians. I think his growing series (alas. He's doing okay so far, though) is the only one I've checked out solely because of the innovative-sounding magic system. I don't mind unimaginative magic systems so much if they are supported by good worldbuilding and a good story, but when the world is wonky and the story is predictable, I'd rather just not bother.

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Arthur B

at 11:42 on 2008-04-06It's yet another case of the Fantasy Religion Problem: the more a fantasy author explicitly includes gods and religions in their stories, the more likely it is that they don't even slightly understand the whole idea of "religion" in the first place.

It's probably down to two issues:

- People who actually believe in a God or gods, and have actually thought about how deal with religious ideas in fiction, are more inclined to write about them through allegory (see Narnia) than through having gods directly appear in their stories because, amongst other things, if you believe that God is real you are going to be mildly reluctant to put words in his mouth.

- People who don't believe in God, and don't have much sympathy for those that do, tend to write about the worst aspects of religion when they choose to address religious topics - hence, corrupt priests and scheming, not-really-divine gods.

Of course, there's exceptions. The

Left Behind

guys clearly believe in God and pretty much rewrote Revelation for money (I'm pretty sure there's a line in Revelation about horrible curses for people who do that sort of thing). I'm pretty sure there's a few agnostic and atheist SF/fantasy authors who don't treat the subject of the divine with contempt, though I can't name any off the top of my head. But ultimately, authors almost always use gods in their books as an opportunity to hold forth on their ideas about religion, and if your view is that religions are fundamentally human institutions and that there's no such thing as God your ability to depict convincingly non-shitty gods in your stories is going to be hampered, unless you're willing to undertake the difficult task of writing from a point of view you don't share and lack sympathy with.

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Dan H

at 09:38 on 2008-04-07

As you may have gathered, I'm still guiltily fond of Trudi Canavan, and despite her heroines being - well - kinda Mary Suish, I still kinda like them. On the other hand if you didn't get on with the BMT I don't think you'd get on with AotF because it's more similar than it is different.

I cannot stand ham-handed "I CAN HAZ RELIGION"-based plots in books anymore, and knowing the heroine of ATF was a priestess just kept holding me back.

As Arthur points out, Fantasy authors are abysmal at religion, because as he points out they tend to be either religious, and therefore not willing to write about God or Gods directly (Lewis, Tolkein) or they're atheists, and therefore just don't get this whole religion thing in the first place.

Which is basically going to be the subject of the follow-up article.

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Orion

at 20:35 on 2011-04-13You should write that followup. I'm an atheist trying to rewrite Paradise Lost as a YA novel, I'm curious.

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Ash

at 10:12 on 2011-04-14Orion,

he did.

#Ferretbrain #Age of the Five #Trudi Canavan #Fantasy Rape Watch #Fantasy

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whodunnitaceattorney · 7 years

Text

Finale Part Three

The Sacred Cavern was open.

And it was empty. There were no persons or objects to be found.

It took several moments for reality to set in.

“This… This is wrong…” Phoenix mumbled to himself. “She… She was here… She had to be here…” His eyes were wide open as they desperately scanned the open space in front of him. His hands were repeatedly clenching and un-clenching.

The sinister sounds from behind him hadn’t ceased. Slowly, he turned his head to see what - or who - it was.

Ema Skye was watching in confusion and dismay as tears streamed Viola’s face. She was doubled over in an uncontrollable fit of laughter. For Ema, the last piece had fallen into place.

“You… You’re the killer. It’s been you this whole time!”

VIOLA CADAVERINI composed herself and got up to face the other woman, wiping one last joyful tear out of the corner of her eye. Her unbroken grin was severely unsettling.

“It looks like I’ve been found out,” she observed. “But are you really that surprised?”

“Why did you do it?” Ema asked, her eyes landing on Phoenix, who was still too shocked and disturbed to speak. How did he fit in to this nightmare? It still wasn’t clear.

“Maybe this will help.”

In a sudden burst of activity, the woman before them turned around and brought her fingers up to the back of her head. For the first and only time she removed her bandage and began fiddling with strands of her hair. Several seconds of braiding later, she turned again to reveal herself.

Ema was confused, but Phoenix wasn’t, despite being presented with what should have been an unbelievable sight.

DAHLIA HAWTHORNE, he thought, the despair pushing him even closer to the ground. I should’ve known.

Dahlia laughed once more, savoring every ounce of the bravado. She was almost unrecognizable as “Viola,” but once she returned her hair to its typical style and allowed herself to show real emotion, she had given herself away.

“It’s been quite some time, Feenie. And I was quite ready to see you again - especially like this!”

Ema couldn’t stand by without trying to get a grasp on the scene before her.

“Who are you?” She demanded. “And how do you know Mr. Wright?”

“You could call me an old friend,” Dahlia jeered. “Although I’m no longer part of his life. Or anyone’s, for that matter.” She snickered at her reference.

“Who the hell is channeling you?” Phoenix asked. “And what did you do to Iris?”

“Well, in case you didn’t know,” Dahlia explained pompously, “there’s a whole country of people who can do this. The dark-haired beauty whose body I’m borrowing just happened to be acquainted with a friend of mine… And as far as my sister goes, she was never here, obviously! I just talked like her for that recording you heard on the phone. Jesus, didn’t she impersonate me for like, months? We sound exactly alike!”

Phoenix was starting to be sick. He had one reason to keep pushing forward all this time, and it turns out he had been played.

“At least tell me that she’s alive,” Phoenix begged, all the weight of these realizations showing on his ragged face.

Dahlia giggled, allowing a rosy pair of dimples to appear on her face. “Tee-hee! I wouldn’t make any promises I can’t keep to you, Feenie!”

Then, as suddenly as it had manifested, the cutesy facade disappeared. “But seriously, Phoenix. How can a woman count on you for anything? Nine people I killed, and you hardly lifted a finger. And for nothing in return, it turns out.”

That was the last blow to Phoenix’s psyche that he could take. His sobs were heaving and ugly. Every cry he emanated came from regret for every friend he had lost to Dahlia’s killing game. It was the most broken Ema had ever seen him, despite all the hardships she knew he had endured.

Dahlia seemed to get the reaction she was looking for - the one she had been aiming to receive from the start. Flashing another toothy grin, she turned her attention to Ema.

“God, he really is a mess, isn’t he! Anyways, I know you’re running out of time, so I’ll let you go. I’ve done everything I need to do. You’re the winner of our game, after all! We can’t have you dying in an avalanche!”

“Wait!” Ema exclaimed as Dahlia turned to leave. “You keep making references to someone else. You weren’t the one who masterminded all this, were you? You were just someone’s tool.”

“Sharp as always!” Dahlia replied. “Yes, another person did come up with the idea for this. I guess you could say he was my boss. And who could be better to hire other than me? I’m dead. The only thing left for Dahlia Hawthorne was to get my revenge on Phoenix Wright and that disgusting witch who made him, and it’s probably the last thing Dahlia Hawthorne will do. Oh, I can’t wait for the news of my crimes to hit the papers!” She clapped with ominous glee.

“Who says it will?” Ema shot back angrily. “Maybe we won’t let them give you the credit you want.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” Dahlia said, starting towards the door. “They’re gonna find this woman’s body buried under the rubble from the avalanche, dead like all the others. If you don’t want you and Feenie to get accused of murder nine times over, you’re gonna have to tell the truth about me being channeled. Don’t worry, they’ve seen it before.” Dahlia had one last laugh as she crossed the threshold outside. “Oh, and by the way. The mastermind - he’s waiting to see you. You should probably pay him a visit when you get back. It was nice to get to know you, Ema Skye! Take care! Your ride home is right behind this building.”

Ema watch DAHLIA HAWTHORNE disappear from her sight. She didn’t bother chasing after her - she wasn’t concerned about her making a run for it. She was already dead, after all. What did it matter now?

She turned her attention to the blubbering heap of a man next to her. She needed to get him out, and fast. She tugged on his arm.

“C’mon, Mr. Wright. We need to go, now.”

“Leave me here, Ema,” he said hopelessly. “She won. I need to die here. I’ll never get past this…”

Ema wasn’t having it. She didn’t have time to convince him not to give up, so instead, she took him by force.

Grabbing hold of his ankle, she dragged him out of the Inner Temple and out into the snow. He didn’t have either the energy or the desire to fight back.

Moving as quickly as she physically could, she proceeded to the other side of the Temple. As promised, there was something waiting for her.

At first glance, it was just a sturdy dinghy. But the hooks on the front and back of its walls indicated exactly what she needed to do.

Piling Phoenix into the boat among the paddles, thick winter coats, and survival rations that Dahlia had provided, Ema got to work. After retrieving the purple and green hang gliders that had been discarded in the snow, she hooked them onto the dinghy. She then pushed it towards the cliff overhanging Eagle River and took one last deep breath.

This was it. She’d won. And although she hadn’t really beaten the killer, they weren’t about to be set free to the world. And best of all, she had saved one person - the person closest to her of all.

Only now she had to navigate a tiny raft through miles of strong current after jumping off a giant cliff. Great.

But to be fair, it seemed about on par with everything she had experienced throughout her time in the mountains.

Ema hit the water with a giant splash. She worried the dinghy was going to flip, but thankfully she was able to steady it. Phoenix, although he remained dead silent, was now helping her keep control. She didn’t know if he would ever recover from what Dahlia had done to him, but she still couldn’t mistake the gratitude in his eyes.

They were only about a minute out when they heard a deafening roar behind them.

“That’s the bomb. Oh, God, I hope we’re far enough away!” Ema yelled.

The avalanche was huge - much larger than the one they had experienced on the first day. Giant boulders and sheets of snow and ice were pouring into the river behind them, creating wave after stomach-turning wave.

Ema thought of Will and the spirit medium as she desperately paddled and shifted her weight. Would they ever be found? Would any trace of what had happened be left behind?

No. It would take some time. But Ema would make sure everyone was found, including the bodies stuck in Hazakura Temple - even if it meant quitting her job.

The ripples of the avalanche soon subsided, never having totally caught up to them. Unfortunately, there was still a long journey ahead of them. It would be several hours - maybe even half a day - before they reached the nearest city.

Despite the exhaustion and the open emotional wounds, Ema’s mind was filled with questions. She tried to contain them, but the pressure inside her only mounted.

“Okay, I have to ask,” she prefaced. “What is your history with that woman? Why did she want revenge so bad?”

Phoenix shook his head slightly. He supposed there was little point to burying what happened.

“It’s not just me. It’s also my mentor. The last time Dahlia left this planet, she and her sister were all there to see it. It was humiliating for her. She probably jumped at the first chance she got to get back at me.” He paused, furrowing his brow. “My question is, who gave her the opportunity? Who hired that woman to channel her so she could carry it all out?”

Ema knew the answer to that. She thought back to the Riddle she had won. The answer was right there in that article.

“So… It’s Dahlia’s sister. That’s who you thought had been kidnapped,” she stated, changing the subject.

Phoenix’s face flushed in anguish. “Yeah. We knew each other before. We lost contact a while back. but…”

Ema felt sad for him. He had seen a lot of bad things and dealt with a lot of bad people. But he still wanted to do everything for the people close to him.

“Alright. I won’t keep grilling you. You should rest.”

He nodded, but continued helping her paddle. Eventually they did reach shore, but not after hours of freezing winds and icy waves. The furry coats were a very necessary protection from hypothermia.

The city lights sparkled in the early morning. It was the most comforting sight Ema had experienced for a long while.

The young detective grasped the hand of PHOENIX WRIGHT and helped him out of the dinghy.

“Let’s go,” she urged. “You may have forgotten, but you have people worried sick about you.

It was an entire day later that Ema was finally released from questioning. She wasn’t completely off the hook yet, but at least she was allowed to go home and get some actual rest.

The police barely believed her story of their escape, but the evidence of their river travel seemed to back her up. They were even more shocked to hear of the nine murders, especially that they were at the hands of a sadistic dead woman. Still, having not yet uncovered any of the bodies, there was nothing to charge her with.

Hopefully for Ema, if anything survived, it’d be that damn cell phone. Dahlia had surely left a gold mine of photographic evidence on that thing. It wasn’t likely that the e-mails would be enough to completely clear her.

First thing next morning, Ema left to see the mastermind. She knew exactly where she was headed - the only worry she had was finding a place to start.

She entered the Detention Center as soon as visiting hours opened and approached the clerk with one demand.

“Take me to Kristoph Gavin, please.”

Her wish was granted, and within three minutes she was led to a carefully decorated prison cell. This, too was a place she recognized from a Riddle’s photo.

“Welcome, Ms. Skye.”

Ema sat across from Gavin, unable to pinpoint how she felt.

How was she supposed to talk to this man?

She hardly knew him.. She had testified in front of him once or twice, and she had even been there for his final breakdown, but at this moment in time, his facade of collectedness and sophistication was truly convincing.

“You appear very happy right now,” Ema observed.

“And you don’t,” Gavin replied. “You should feel proud of yourself. You came out on top in a grueling test of many aspects of human performance.”

“I’m not going to be satisfied until I know everything,” Ema replied. “If I can’t see you and Hawthorne punished more than you’ve already been, then this is the most I can hope for.”

“I see,” Gavin said, nodding in understanding. “You have won my full compliance. Please, ask whatever you like.”

Ema thought for some time before speaking again. In the end, only one word sufficed.

“Why?”

Gavin nodded once more. “It’s a complex question. Obviously, Dahlia Hawthorne is a criminal of the most frightening capacity. Still, we do share one aspect of our story in common. Neither of us have a life. And that is why we did what we did.”

“You’re talking about your life sentence,” Ema remarked.

“That’s right,” Gavin affirmed. “I have nothing to lose, and I have very little to gain from doing anything anymore. I have been imprisoned for some time now, and I can attest to the only tangible thing I experience being desiring the worst for Phoenix Wright. Therefore, it was really only a natural progression for me to seek revenge. It was only once I read a little into his past cases that I hatched the idea to have enlist Hawthorne’s help.”

“How did you do that? And why did she disguise herself as Viola Cadaverini?” Ema asked.

“Well, I knew Wright and Cadaverini were acquainted. Her appearance wasn’t too far off from Hawthorne’s, if she covered as much of her face as she could. I doubted he would recognize either of them with a lot of precision, but I suppose it was still a risk. Even so, her affect made for the perfect cover. One fearsome woman disguising herself as another fearsome woman - it was the easiest role to play, and I assume Hawthorne must have played it well. As for channeling her in the first place, that was deceptively simple. Many fledgling spirit mediums are looking for experience. I sought one out from the Kingdom of Khura’in, where Hawthorne’s face would be unknown. Then, once she arrived to see me in person, I simply showed her a photo, claimed I was a widower who sought forgiveness from my deceased spouse, and that was that. Of course, it was quite a task for Hawthorne to remain in this realm for such a length of time, but she was up to the task. It wasn’t her first time being channeled. Besides, I knew progressing the game as quickly as possible would bode well for her chances in the end.”

“Speaking of which, there’s something that’s bothering me,” Ema responded, her frustration growing. “Why couldn’t you have had Dahlia just murder Phoenix himself, or someone close to him? Why the elaborate game, and with so many people he only somewhat knew?”

“I thought it would be difficult to convince Wright to bring along his daughter or his understudy if Iris Hawthorne was the intended bait,” Gavin explained. “Wright would prefer to keep that history from his most innermost circle, I am sure. I only had Hawthorne contact people who would not be able to confirm the truthfulness of Wright’s invitation in person, essentially. And I think you’ve seen firsthand why the Killing Game was such an effective outlet. Forcing him to watch as so many innocent people were slaughtered was the ultimate revenge. Even allowing him to live, which I assume you made sure of, played into the plan. He will have to live with his inability to save them for the rest of his natural life.”

Ema leaned back in her chair. She was starting to understand the motivations behind what had happened to her and the others. She knew it would’ve killed her not to know, but at the same time, hearing it said out loud was difficult to handle.

“Now, I have a question for you, Ms. Skye,” Gavin declared. “Was defeating all of your competitors and seeing them die - was it worth it? Was it worth it to survive?”

The question was troubling. Of course, Ema would have rather escaped with everyone, but… It just wouldn’t have worked. And using force to try and stop the killer only would’ve been too risky. She likely would’ve killed an innocent person out of misplaced suspicion and paranoia.

Gavin wasn’t going to get the pitiful answer he was looking for.

“Yes, it was worth it,” Ema affirmed. “It was worth it because I know I was the strongest person of all the guests. And I’m going to use my strength to make sure they are never forgotten, and that they aren’t reduced to the way they died. They don’t deserve for that to happen. They were too good for that. I just don’t know if any of them would be able to face what we went through like I plan to if they had lived instead.”

Gavin was silent for a moment before replying. “I see. Very well, then.”

Ema felt the gravity of her words. Once she said them out loud, she knew for a fact they were true.

“I believe this interview has run its course,” Gavin stated.

Though her mind wasn’t totally free of questions, Ema agreed. It was time to go - time to return to normal life.

“I would like to congratulate you once again on your accomplishment,” Gavin said. “To tell the truth, I had a feeling I would be seeing you of all people when it was all over.”

Ema didn’t smile at the compliment. Triumph wasn’t what she was feeling. It was something different - something Gavin would never understand.

“I am not sure our paths will ever cross again, so for now, I will say goodbye,” he said as she stood up to go. “I will be submitting a deposition detailing the crimes committed by Ms. Hawthorne and myself, so you and Mr. Wright should be cleared of suspicion. Oh, and I have one more thing to tell you. I’ve made sure something was left for you. Think of it as your final prize.”

Ema skeptically raised her eyebrow. “What is it?”

“You’ll see once you’ve arrived. It’s been hidden it in a very important location. Here is how to find it.” He handed Ema a slip of paper with an address neatly written on it. “Farewell, Ms. Skye.”

Ema indicated her comprehension, turned away from Gavin, and left without a word.

She soon found herself walking in one direction, not thinking about where she was going.

Her subconscious, however, was taking her exactly where Gavin had directed.

She arrived fifteen minutes later, holding up the paper with the address and comparing it to the building that stood before her.

District Court of Los Kyotos, Japanifornia

Courthouse Reading Room

Ema calmly entered and made her way to the shelf indicated by the note. On that shelf was a book. She reached out to pull it off the shelf.

Apparently, this book was the prize. As soon as she opened it and realized what was inside, her confusion subsided, and she understood what the enigmatic man had meant.

She closed the book and held it tightly in her hands, stunned into silence.

Somewhere far away, she could hear the sound of another book closing. It was a story over a decade old of greed, malice, and tragedy, and it was finally closing for good.

Congratulations to the winner of Whodunnit Ace Attorney, Ema Skye @luminol-lenses! You were one of the most quick-witted and determined contestants in any competition like this that I’ve ever witnessed, and you set the bar very high for anyone who wishes to play this game in the future. You are the most deserving winner I could have hoped for! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your commitment (and also for forcing me to make the riddles harder 😂).

Also, please offer your congratulations to your Killer, “Viola Cadaverini” @violacadavirini! You not only accepted your challenging role on day one, you thrived with it, receiving only six accusations throughout the entire competition. Despite having immunity from elimination, you presented quality cases every investigation and never shied away from a challenging riddle - this includes the Final RIddle, in which you were both the fastest and the most correct of all three players! I couldn’t have asked for any better.

And for everyone else who played in this game or just watched it unfold, thank you so much! I have had a wonderful time with Whodunnit and I’ll really miss my job as moderator. Please keep in touch with me, whether on this blog or one of my others! And if anyone’s planning a sequel to this game, well, you can count me in 😉

Until then, this is your mod, signing off for now!

#whodunnitaceattorney #finale #wow this was a lot #sorry if theres typos its late

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book-picks-for-pride · 7 years

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PRIDE MONTH FANTASY/SCI-FI PICKS FOR YA

Lumberjanes, Vol. 1: Beware the Kitten Holy(Lumberjanes (Collected Editions) #1) by Noelle Stevenson, Grace Ellis, Shannon Watters, Brooke A. Allen(Illustrator)

At Miss Qiunzilla Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet's camp for hard-core lady-types, things are not what they seem. Three-eyed foxes. Secret caves. Anagrams. Luckily, Jo, April, Mal, Molly, and Ripley are five rad, butt-kicking best pals determined to have an awesome summer together... And they're not gonna let a magical quest or an array of supernatural critters get in their way! The mystery keeps getting bigger, and it all begins here.

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

Simon Snow is the worst Chosen One who's ever been chosen.

That's what his roommate, Baz, says. And Baz might be evil and a vampire and a complete git, but he's probably right.

Half the time, Simon can't even make his wand work, and the other half, he starts something on fire. His mentor's avoiding him, his girlfriend broke up with him, and there's a magic-eating monster running around, wearing Simon's face. Baz would be having a field day with all this, if he were here — it's their last year at the Watford School of Magicks, and Simon's infuriating nemesis didn't even bother to show up.

We Are the Ants by Shaun David Hutchinson

There are a few things Henry Denton knows, and a few things he doesn’t.

Henry knows that his mom is struggling to keep the family together, and coping by chain-smoking cigarettes. He knows that his older brother is a college dropout with a pregnant girlfriend. He knows that he is slowly losing his grandmother to Alzheimer’s. And he knows that his boyfriend committed suicide last year.

What Henry doesn’t know is why the aliens chose to abduct him when he was thirteen, and he doesn’t know why they continue to steal him from his bed and take him aboard their ship. He doesn’t know why the world is going to end or why the aliens have offered him the opportunity to avert the impending disaster by pressing a big red button.

But they have. And they’ve only given him 144 days to make up his mind.

The question is whether Henry thinks the world is worth saving. That is, until he meets Diego Vega, an artist with a secret past who forces Henry to question his beliefs, his place in the universe, and whether any of it really matters. But before Henry can save the world, he’s got to figure out how to save himself, and the aliens haven’t given him a button for that.

The Hidden Oracle (The Trials of Apollo #1) by Rick Riordan

How do you punish an immortal?

By making him human.

After angering his father Zeus, the god Apollo is cast down from Olympus. Weak and disorientated, he lands in New York City as a regular teenage boy. Now, without his godly powers, the four-thousand-year-old deity must learn to survive in the modern world until he can somehow find a way to regain Zeus's favour.

But Apollo has many enemies—gods, monsters and mortals who would love to see the former Olympian permanently destroyed. Apollo needs help, and he can think of only one place to go... an enclave of modern demigods known as Camp Half-Blood.

The Raven Boys (The Raven Cycle #1) by Maggie Stiefvater

Every year, Blue Sargent stands next to her clairvoyant mother as the soon-to-be dead walk past. Blue herself never sees them—not until this year, when a boy emerges from the dark and speaks directly to her.

His name is Gansey, and Blue soon discovers that he is a rich student at Aglionby, the local private school. Blue has a policy of staying away from Aglionby boys. Known as Raven Boys, they can only mean trouble.

But Blue is drawn to Gansey, in a way she can’t entirely explain. He has it all—family money, good looks, devoted friends—but he’s looking for much more than that. He is on a quest that has encompassed three other Raven Boys: Adam, the scholarship student who resents all the privilege around him; Ronan, the fierce soul who ranges from anger to despair; and Noah, the taciturn watcher of the four, who notices many things but says very little.

For as long as she can remember, Blue has been warned that she will cause her true love to die. She never thought this would be a problem. But now, as her life becomes caught up in the strange and sinister world of the Raven Boys, she’s not so sure anymore.

Ash by Malinda Lo

Cinderella retold

In the wake of her father's death, Ash is left at the mercy of her cruel stepmother. Consumed with grief, her only joy comes by the light of the dying hearth fire, rereading the fairy tales her mother once told her. In her dreams, someday the fairies will steal her away, as they are said to do. When she meets the dark and dangerous fairy Sidhean, she believes that her wish may be granted.

The day that Ash meets Kaisa, the King's Huntress, her heart begins to change. Instead of chasing fairies, Ash learns to hunt with Kaisa. Though their friendship is as delicate as a new bloom, it reawakens Ash's capacity for love-and her desire to live. But Sidhean has already claimed Ash for his own, and she must make a choice between fairy tale dreams and true love.

Entrancing, empowering, and romantic, Ash is about the connection between life and love, and solitude and death, where transformation can come from even the deepest grief.

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

Greece in the age of heroes. Patroclus, an awkward young prince, has been exiled to the court of King Peleus and his perfect son Achilles. Despite their difference, Achilles befriends the shamed prince, and as they grow into young men skilled in the arts of war and medicine, their bond blossoms into something deeper - despite the displeasure of Achilles' mother Thetis, a cruel sea goddess.

But when word comes that Helen of Sparta has been kidnapped, Achilles must go to war in distant Troy and fulfill his destiny. Torn between love and fear for his friend, Patroclus goes with him, little knowing that the years that follow will test everything they hold dear.

The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black

Children can have a cruel, absolute sense of justice. Children can kill a monster and feel quite proud of themselves. A girl can look at her brother and believe they’re destined to be a knight and a bard who battle evil. She can believe she’s found the thing she’s been made for.

Hazel lives with her brother, Ben, in the strange town of Fairfold where humans and fae exist side by side. The faeries’ seemingly harmless magic attracts tourists, but Hazel knows how dangerous they can be, and she knows how to stop them. Or she did, once.

At the center of it all, there is a glass coffin in the woods. It rests right on the ground and in it sleeps a boy with horns on his head and ears as pointed as knives. Hazel and Ben were both in love with him as children. The boy has slept there for generations, never waking.

Until one day, he does…

As the world turns upside down, Hazel tries to remember her years pretending to be a knight. But swept up in new love, shifting loyalties, and the fresh sting of betrayal, will it be enough?

Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith

Sixteen-year-old Austin Szerba interweaves the story of his Polish legacy with the story of how he and his best friend , Robby, brought about the end of humanity and the rise of an army of unstoppable, six-foot tall praying mantises in small-town Iowa.

To make matters worse, Austin's hormones are totally oblivious; they don't care that the world is in utter chaos: Austin is in love with his girlfriend, Shann, but remains confused about his sexual orientation. He's stewing in a self-professed constant state of maximum horniness, directed at both Robby and Shann. Ultimately, it's up to Austin to save the world and propagate the species in this sci-fright journey of survival, sex, and the complex realities of the human condition.

The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness

What if you aren’t the Chosen One?

The one who’s supposed to fight the zombies, or the soul-eating ghosts, or whatever the heck this new thing is, with the blue lights and the death?

What if you’re like Mikey? Who just wants to graduate and go to prom and maybe finally work up the courage to ask Henna out before someone goes and blows up the high school. Again.

Because sometimes there are problems bigger than this week’s end of the world, and sometimes you just have to find the extraordinary in your ordinary life.

Even if your best friend is worshipped by mountain lions...

#YA Fantasy #YA Sci Fi #pride books #lgbt books #queer books

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emulatingrizal-blog · 6 years

Text

The Forgotten Story of Ligaya

by ABVP

"Señor Basilio, are you not from San Diego?"

It was a rainy afternoon. The streets of Manila were stained with rainwater and mud, worrying the young probinsyano who was busy scurrying his way back to his dormitory. He wasn't quite used to the city yet, considering that the transition of him moving from a said peaceful countryside to a polluted, terror-infested capital was too sudden.

Basilio had to do it. Ever since the mysterious boatman told him to study at the capital seconds before his death, the orphan had a hunch to follow him. The boatman died alongside the young one's mother, Sisa. When their ashes blew from the pyre, Basilio knew what he had to protect: their legacy.

Kapitan Tiago took Basilio in after Maria Clara entered the convent. Tiago then granted his wishes to go and study at the capital. Tiago never knew Basilio's intentions but he trusted him.

The bells for the 3:00 prayer rang from a distance. Bystanders were having a feast by the roadsides, the sounds of beer bottles hitting each other and their irritating belows of cheers annoying Basilio as he attempted to avoid interaction.

He looked for shade and that's when a peculiar woman started talking to him.

She did not look feminine at all. When common females would be dressed in their best baro't saya clothes, the woman was covered in a crude farmer's outfit. Her appearance was cut off from the rest of the Manila citizens but she awfully reminded him of someone when he saw the salakot on her head. The lad could not see her face at all.

"I am." He finally answered, arranging his damp fringes to get a good look at the woman.

"Ah, glad to see a fellow probinsyano trying to fit in the crowds of this dreadful place," she laughed weakly, "it reeks of criminals and injustice."

After suppressing a chuckle, he comments, "Like San Diego differs."

He caught a glimpse of the woman's smile before she left. She did not leave a name for him to remember, so he just dubbed her as "Ligaya".

The bearded man sporting blue, round glasses had the young one at gunpoint.

Basilio went to the pyre back in San Diego when Christmas came and was not expecting someone else to be there since it was an isolated area. The mysterious man dug the ground which reminded Basilio that it had hidden treasures underneath the dirt but the aura was choking him because of the man's sinister presence. Unfortunately, the young one was caught.

"What is it that you want?" The man asked him, the barrel of the gun threatening the young one, "I do not have all day."

"I-I came to visit my mother's grave."

"Huh, that is odd," the man finally took his gun away by hiding it inside his coat, "you must be the adoptive son of Kapitan Tiago."

There was a familiar tone in the man's voice that Basilio could not help but stammer. "And you must be... Señor Ibarra?"

Basilio heard Tiago's stories about Maria Clara's lover and how he was so trusting, intelligent but dangerously short-tempered when it comes to the former priests.

But the man chuckled, "Oh, that señor is a dead man."

Basilio was skeptical, he did not trust him. After a few moments, the man introduced himself as Simoun, a jeweller. Simoun offered the young man to join his revolution against the Spanish administration. But Basilio declines and just hoped for the improvement of the country. This disappointed the jeweller but nevertheless told the young one to reconsider before shortly leaving.

As soon as Basilio laid the bouquet of roses on the dirt near the tree, another eerie presence shocked him.

"You again," Basilio calls out to the shadow, "the woman under the shade."

She didn't look pleased to see him at all, "I see you have met the jeweller and I am disturbed at the fact that you rejected the offer."

"I cannot join such a thing," he shook his head, "do you two know each other?"

"We do, but I hate his cocky attitude sometimes," she crossed her arms, looking pissed, "we do not work together but we have the same intentions."

"To overthrow the government."

"Yes, and I wanted you to be a part of us too."

Ligaya never had any name nor was she given one.

When she was just a child, her parents were brutally murdered by the Spanish because of a false accusation, then she promised to take her revenge. From her province, she was transported to Manila to become a housemaid. She met nuns along the way and earned their pity. She was taken into a convent where she was raised by the nuns but she sneaks out to find more information about the Spanish authorities.

"Dear, someone is calling you from the door," Sister Barbara, the one Ligaya was the most close to, tapped her shoulder whilst she was tying rosary beads together.

Ligaya expected it to be Isagani, another student whom she grew up with. He was a reserved law student who yearned for a just environment. They became friends after Ligaya learnt his objective.

"You are surprisingly clean today," Isagani looks down on her with a chuckle.

They planned a walk around the avenue as Isagani shared his plans in building a Spanish academy alongside his other peers despite the opposition of their mentors.

Ligaya tried her best to keep his hopes up. She pitied him after he was ditched by his former lover, Paulita, who left him for another man named Juanito. Isagani has not been himself after that, so Ligaya would attempt to keep him distracted from his past.

"Is it not risky for you and your friends to push the academy?" She questioned, "Would the priests not be tempted to—"

"Close the program?" He let out a sigh of disbelief, "I am worried that it is a possibility."

Amongst the crowd, Ligaya recognized someone's back. She rushed towards it in a hurry, accidentally dragging Isagani along. He was surprised at Ligaya's sudden speed.

"Hey!"

"There is a man I have not seen for some time now."

"Darling?"

Sister Barbara heard music echoing from the altar. Judging by the same notes she had heard before, it was clearly by Ligaya's playing. Sure enough, the nun saw her sitting on one of the front pews with an unpolished guitar resting on the top of her lap.

Ligaya's strumming was heartfelt so the nun knew that she was thinking of something- or perhaps someone- else.

"Oh," the young one got startled at the presence of the sister, "it is time for bed?"

"You are already past your bed time, dear," Sister Barbara commented with a heartwarming smile, "why the straight face?"

"N-nothing, really..."

"I see a woman with a hurt heart," the nun sat beside her, "are you seeing someone else besides Isagani?"

Ligaya scoffed at the idea of her seeing someone, "Men have wicked ideas of romance."

"You do realize that there is no point in lying to me," Sister Barbara replies, "I have been chaperoning you for years; I know when something is on your mind."

"I just do not... understand myself," she stopped playing with the strings, "honestly, I have been fancying someone but, look at me..."

Sister Barbara frowned back at her. She acknowledged in secret how preoccupied Ligaya was in stirring a revolution that developing odd feelings for someone was never in her agenda.

"And he already has a-"

"Lover, yes." Ligaya looks away in shame, trying to get rid of the pain in her chest, "This feels strange..."

"That feeling... is affection, my dear."

"I fell in love with someone before," Sister Barbara's voice was ringing in her mind, "and we were happy."

"You always tell that tale but you never bothered finishing it."

"But it is, dear. He just... went away, without saying farewell."

"And we would like to send our gratitudes to Sister Barbara who has joined our Creator this morning," the head priest of the Parish announced from the podium, "she will be remembered."

Ligaya was standing by the doors of the church, trying to ignore the priest's homily. Simoun requested a meeting with her and Basilio who were planning to create a mock celebration.

"Oh, you are finally here." Ligaya smiled back the gentlemen, "I see that Señor Basilio has joined our little revolution party."

"I—"

"Now, now, you two," Simoun scolded as he gestured the two to take the kalesa in front of them, "we do not have time left."

The bearded man took one last glimpse of the atlar, muttering how the face of the nun looks awfully familiar.

Ligaya dumbfoundedly gazed at Basilio, Sister Barbara's last phrases whispering, "So do not do what I have done, dear, for you will never know which one of you will leave first. While he is still around, you have to let him acknowledge your feelings, because nothing is more hurting that holding back even just one simple sentence that will make you regret for the rest of your life."

A few days after the celebration at the panciteria, things did not end well.

Ligaya was not aware of it at first as she was hiding in the convent while pretending to be a nun by wearing one of late Sister Barbara's sutana dresses. When she saw familiar students getting dragged just across the street, she had a hunch that the young lad would be one of them.

"Basilio?" Ligaya called out, concerned.

Another one joined the party and she immediately recognized him, "Basilio!"

Basilio, with a black eye evading the left side of his face, called back, "Ligaya?"

Ligaya's face scrunched in confusion as she looked at his badly bruised face. Regardless, she knelt before him, carefully examining his injuries. A guard harshly pulled her up, pushing her away from him.

"They did not put up those posters!" She ran towards the guards, still pretending to be a nun, "I beg for your mercy!"

"This is not any of your business!" The guard shouted back, earning anger from Ligaya as she dangerously marched up to the guard.

Ligaya landed a strong punch on the guard's stomach, having him on his knees in pain. "I hope the Almighty God forgives your sins."

"If some priests can touch nuns without consent, then the nuns can have their own share of sins," Sister Barbara's voice rang in her again, "but if you are to use force, be smart and use it only if it is just."

"You did not even join the celebration so why were you arrested?"

Ligaya had sneaked into the precint without the guards knowing. At night, while they were busy partying, she found out a way to find a duplicated key for Basilio's cell.

Basilio grunted at the sting of the cold cloth being pressed on his swollen eye, "I may have been one of the people who planned it."

She sighs, carefully cleaning the rest of Basilio's wounds. "You fought back, did you not?"

"I did," Basilio caught a glimpse of Ligaya's eyes and they were glistening, "I had to. I was at home and... Juli was there."

Ligaya's heart stopped. "Juli is her name?"

He nodded in approval, "They were threatening her. I can only imagine how ashamed she is of me, now that her fiancé is in jail."

"... You will get out of this place soon."

Basilio asked Ligaya a favor to check on his fiancé Juli at home.

Of course, how could she refuse?

With a heavy heart, she followed his instructions and stumbled upon the home Basilio shared with Juli. It was a traditional, Spanish-styled home with shell sheets for its window panes and walls made of polished wood. She has never seen such an intricate home before and she was envious.

There was, suddenly, a scream from the inside.

It was a horrified scream and there were heavy footsteps, alarming her that something has terribly gone wrong. Instead of gently knocking on the door, she knocked it down with her feet with all of her might. The damage created debris.

The scream was getting louder as well as the footsteps, so she hurriedly rushed upstairs, only to see a priest and a young lady leave a mess of the place.

She knew the priest's intentions and it was to touch Juli. Basilio's fiancé has already made it to the window and it worried Ligaya heavily than she expected.

The event was too fast that Juli had slipped out of the window due to panic. Juli's screams fainted as she fell down, a loud thud ringing into Ligaya's ears. It frightened her.

Running out, she laid her hand on Juli's neck to sense any small sign of life. Her heart paced once she realized. With her eyes almost dimming, she caught the priest trying to flee the scene and before she knew it, a gun shot was heard.

Ligaya had killed the priest and Juli was gone.

Basilio was furious once he found out.

"You kept it from me for days! For days!" He was in rage, "Just when I thought I have finally seen freedom! You fool! I never should have trusted you!"

"You were in jail and what would have happened if I told you?! You are probably dead by now!" She cried, "For you, I killed the priest who tried to touch her-"

"That does not change anything because she is still dead!"

Ligaya just wanted to break down at that very moment. She could feel Basilio's pain, knowing how long they must have waited for their wedding to happen. She witnessed the engagement at the avenue when Isagani was with her and remembering the smiles of the couple only doubled the weight on their shoulders. She wished she was quick enough to react.

Basilio then confronted Simoun, the man behind his release, and finally proclaimed, "I will join the revolution."

Trouble started stirring as the wedding drew near.

Turns out one civil guard found out one of Ligaya's agendas when he spotted her sneaking in and out of the precint. Father Camorra was reported missing and the guard swore that there was a sound of a gunshot near Juli's residence. Suspicion grew amongst the officials and decided to pay Ligaya a friendly visit at the convent.

Except it was not as friendly as anyone would expect.

The mass was interrupted by civil guards entering abruptly, even the priest looked flabbergasted. Everybody's breaths hitched as they saw their dangerous revolvers pointing at them.

The highest official was calling out to a woman pretending to be a nun who wore a salakot most of the time to protect her identity. They were not aware that Ligaya was sitting in the front pew the whole time they were looking for her.

An intimidating presence drew close to her and she could not hold back any longer: she opened fire.

Gruesomely shooting the guard on his forehead, panic rose from the mass goers as the guard's blood scattered and stained the atlar. Ligaya sprung from her seat and ran out of one of the exits of the church.

"She is the murderer of Father Camorra!"

The guards were itching to seize her, shooting their bullets at her and in process hitting innocent bystanders who were not involved at all.

One guard successfully hit Ligaya's arm, making her groan in pain, yet she did not stop running. She stripped down every piece of her sutana, revealing her normal crude outfit. When she finally entered the outside crowd, the guards failed to keep track of her.

They lost her.

When Ligaya appeared in front of Basilio's porchstep, the young lad was horrified to see Ligaya's bleeding shoulder.

Silence enveloped them both as Basilio treated her wound. They could not find the words to tell each other, considering that the week has been pressing on them lately and everyone was not in a good mood.

Ligaya looked back at Basilio. He did not look okay at all. His hair was out of sorts and his posture was poorly uncoordinated. Even the way he was treating her was a bit sluggish, making her know that Basilio was exhausted.

"Señor," she mumbled weakly as he closed the bandages to her wound, "you addressed me with a name the other day."

"What about it?" Basilio replied, not showing any interest at all.

"... I am curious about its origin."

"It is nothing," he says, "you did not leave a name so I made you one."

"You remind me of him."

They finally settled inside Basilio's bedroom where we were to rest. Ligaya was given Juli's nightgown and Basilio could not give her a straight look. The moon was the only source of light in the room and it gave off a serene but poignant feeling. They lied on one bed but neither did not want the other close to them.

"Who, specifically?" Basilio cocked his head to the side to look at Ligaya.

"A person I used to care about," they locked gazes for a moment before Ligaya turned and looked at the wooden ceiling, "a fiancé I had as well."

Basilio was surprised at the fact that she was someone's fiancé too, but he kept quiet to hear her story.

"He was always hated on by the friars because of how famous he was in his province for his kind heart," she started, "I was just exploring the place myself until we met and like any other couple ever, we eventually fell for each other. We were about to get wed but..."

Ligaya took a deep breath, "He became my husband, but only for a few minutes."

The yound lad felt guilty, "I am sorry."

"Shot right in front of me by those Spanish guards on our wedding day, how... inhumane." Her voice broke along with Basilio's heart once he heard, "You are kind, gentle too, like he was. But the only difference is that it was you who lost her."

Ligaya turns to look at him again with a broken smile, "Then... you remind me of me."

The date had arrived.

Simoun had successfully planted the bombs around late Kapitan Tiago's residence, the location of the wedding. All of the most important people will be attending the wedding of Juanito and Paulita.

Isagani held his silence, but it felt different. It had the aura of guilt and remorse, but regardless, the mission still continued.

Ligaya was instructed to be a lookout from a distant area and this concerned Basilio. It was just last night when she showed her vulnerable side and the young lad was not quite sure if he is ready to get his sight out of her.

Basilio snapped back into reality when her hand tapped his shoulder, "Señor, good luck."

It was a weak encouragement, "Are you okay?" The young lad asked.

Ligaya smiled back at him, "Yes."

If only Basilio knew her side. Ligaya felt as if her hours are now being numbered as Sister Barbara's last words whispered to her again. She was having a feeling that things will not go accordingly.

But she decided to accept whatever fate has prepared for her.

"Señor, please meet me under the shade after escorting Isagani."

Simoun had left them and Basilio escaped the scene after having a change of heart.

Unfortunately, the civil guards spotted Ligaya's appearance at the wedding and did not hesitate to chase her. The streets brewed chaos as Ligaya ran to the shade as quickly as she could possibly go.

Rain started to pour as she made her way through the crowd hastily. She squinted her eyes, trying to locate the shed where she met Basilio for the first time.

"Ligaya!"

"Señor!" Ligaya yelped in shock as a hand pulled her from the crowd.

It was Basilio. The fringes of his hair were wet and his posh suit was ruined. Ligaya, with the same crude clothing, was also wet. They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

They could not believe how this coincidentally happened. Everything was exactly how everything started: the rain, how damp they were and how they were under the shed.

They both stopped and gazed at each other, appreciating each other's features. Now, they both looked so lovestruck that it was such a heartwarming sight. They were so busy that they never acknowledged each other's beauty. They never saw it coming, but their affection drew them closer.

"I wish I lived long enough to hear you say the name you have given me every morning, noon and evening."

When the bullet hit her chest, it was all over; their lips seperated as Ligaya mouthed the words, "Run."

Basilio did not want to leave; he wanted to stay in that moment forever. He was not ready to let go of someone just yet, but it slipped from his fingers too fast and he never had a choice.

"I will be with you from now on." She declares as death slowly started to swim into her veins, "Señor, thank you for everything; even if time was short, at least you gave me life in a lifetime of death."

"Mahal kita." Basilio muttered for the last time to her before fleeing.

His last glimpse of Ligaya's smile was all he needed to remember.

END.

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