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azrielsdove · 3 months

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Don’t Blame Me: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Violence, Suggestive

(loosely based on the don’t blame me x LWYMMD mashup from the eras tour ngl)

***

You heard a desperate, strangled shout of your name as he went down. You screamed, anger and fear taking over. No, no, no, you chanted in your head, diving in the direction Azriel had fallen. This couldn’t happen, not to him.

The two of you were sent on a mission to investigate unknown creatures breaching the borders of the Night Court. Rhys wasn’t even able to tell you what they were, just that they were more dangerous than anything you’d dealt with before. You had been given explicit instruction to leave once you found where they were residing and report back the location. From there a larger team would be sent out to eradicate the threat.

You had been tracking them carefully for days, trying to find their home base. You were beginning to think they didn’t have one, that these creatures were nomadic. Until an hour ago. Azriel had practically dragged you as high as you could go in the sky, pointing to a cluster of trees a while away. “There,” he explained, “they reconvene there during the day.” You nodded, preparing to fly back to Velaris and tell Rhys. Azriel caught your arm, shaking his head. “I want to track them a little longer. Make sure I have the pattern right so when we come back we can have the best chance at taking them out.”

You didn’t have a good feeling about staying out, but you agreed anyway. It was important to ensure the information you had was as detailed as possible. That’s how you ended up here, wind rushing past your face as you free fell down to where Azriel landed. Please be okay.

You dropped to the ground and surveyed the area for any sign of life. There was nothing there. If you hadn’t seen Azriel fall yourself you would have assumed nothing was ever down here. You took off through the trees, heading in the direction of what you assumed was their camp. You listened carefully for any sound, whether it be danger or Azriel himself. You were nearing the clearing he had spotted earlier when you heard a slow hum, ducking back behind a tree and tucking your wings tight against you. You poked your head out to watch two of the creatures move farther in the area, Azriel dragged between the two of them. Your heart ached at the blood running down his face and his limp body.

You followed the creatures until you were at the edge of the camp, watching their moves intently. The tied Azriel to a tree trunk, moving and muttering around him. You were taking in how many you saw, estimating that about 30 of these things were living here. Your nose wrinkled at the sight of the insect-like beings, their long stingers the supposed most dangerous part of them. The creatures were roughly the size of an Illyrian soldier, resembling wasps more than any type of fae. Large, disgusting wasps. The hum grew louder as what you supposed was the leader approached Azriel. Your toes curled as you watched the way it yanked his face up, inspecting the unconscious male.

It turned to one of its workers, a horrible clicking sound coming from its mouth. The other responded in the same way, the language grating against your ears. They turned back to Azriel, continuing to talk about him. You wished more than anything you could understand what they were saying. You looked over Azriel again, noticing that his blades were still strapped to his body. Did the creatures not realize what they were? Or were they truly so deadly they didn’t need to worry about disarming their enemies? A chill ran through your spine at the thought.

The leader let out a loud screech and the others filed into neat rows in front of it. You paled at the sight of them all together. What were you going to do? You desperately called for Rhys in your mind, knowing he likely would never hear you. Even if he did, how long would it take him to get here? Azriel might not have that much time left.

The leader gave some sort of command, and you watched in horrified shock as they all opened their mouths. Long, sharp, straw-like tubes came out, heading straight towards Azriel. You didn’t have time to think before you ran out there, quick enough to take them by surprise and get in front of him. The creatures all stopped, taking in this new sight in front of them. Adrenaline was pumping through your body, the only thought you had was to save Azriel.

Don’t blame me.

You pressed your back to his front, reaching behind to grab on to one of the swords strapped to his chest. Your warrior eyes darted around the creatures, desperately searching for any sign of weakness.

Don’t blame me.

The leader moved towards you, that horrible straw coming straight to your face instead. In a split-second decision you ripped the sword from its place on Azriel’s chest, a loud scream tearing from your throat as you swung. Tense silence spread through the woods, followed by a sickening squelch as the creature split in half.

Don’t blame me for what you made me do.

The other creatures all swarmed towards you at once, your screams and the sounds of bodies hitting the floor echoing through the woods around you. You became feral, tapping into the deepest parts of your Illyrian training. All you knew was to not let them touch Azriel. One of those horrid straws sank into your thigh, a searing pain ripping through your skin. You yelled, the next strike aimed at the creature who attacked. The wound burned like acid had been poured into your bloodstream, and knowing the way these creatures worked it probably had. You couldn’t let that stop you, not when Azriel was in danger.

Look what you made me do.

You fought back with more anger, cutting down creature after creature. You were a force of pure power, midnight blue siphons a thing of deadly beauty. Another straw embedded itself into your arm, the sword clanging to the ground. You wrapped your uninjured hand around the pulsating thing, ripping it out of your skin. You squeezed your hand around it, harder and harder until you felt the satisfying pop of it breaking. The creature it was attached to howled and you shot it square in the chest with your power. You looked around, noting there were only three of these left. Even with your arm and leg out of commission, you felt you could finish these last few off.

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy.

Your uninjured arm slid down, pulling out a dagger you had strapped to your thigh. You surveyed the three creatures around you, deciding to go for the middle one. You roared, jumping forward and latching on to the nasty beast. Your dagger rammed into its chest and you slid down, your weight pulling the blade down its body. It screeched as you were showered with its sticky green blood, collapsing backwards. You turned to the other two, adrenaline dulling the pain of your injuries as you pulled out a second dagger.

Oh, Lord save me, my drug is my baby I’ll be using for the rest of my life.

The two convened on you at the same time and you swung out both arms, spinning in a death dance with the blades. You landed on one knee in front of Azriel, twin thuds from behind you letting you know you struck true. Your breathing was heavy as you looked up, up into his wide eyes. He murmured your name and you dropped the daggers, the adrenaline rushing out of you. You winced at the sudden pain in your arm and leg, spreading quickly from your intense use of them. You fell forward, body shaking while you tried to push yourself up. You had to untie Azriel, he had to get out of here.

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy.

You forced yourself up with a cry, fingers undoing the knots the creatures had used to keep Azriel trapped. He pulled out of them the second he could, catching you as your weakened body fell against him. “I got you, I got you,” he whispered, cradling you tight to his chest before shooting off into the sky. Far, far away from the carnage you unleashed on those creatures who dared to threaten him.

***

“No, Rhys, i’ve never seen anything quite like it. She took out all of them. Heavily injured on top of that.” You recognized Azriel’s voice, muffled as if he was standing behind a door. You tried to open your eyes, but your eyelids felt as if they were ten thousand pounds each.

“That can’t be. You’re certain no one else was around? I’ve never heard of one single person taking out 30 of them. I’ve rarely heard of someone taking out just one on their own.” Rhysands voice was contemplative, trying to understand how you could have pulled off such a feat.

“I know that. I saw her do it Rhys. She was a true force of raw power.” Azriel sounded…in awe of you. You forced your eyes open, blinking as you adjusted to the soft light pouring in from the windows. You looked around the room, realizing Rhys and Azriel must be standing right outside the cracked door. You tried to sit up, a loud gasp of pain ripping from you at the action.

The sound alerted the two males outside, the door flinging open as they rushed in. “How are you feeling?” Azriel demanded, immediately coming to your side. You tried to sit again, the pain knocking the breath out of you. “Let me help,” he said softly, gently pulling you into a sitting position.

“I think i’m okay. In a lot of pain. What happened?” Your throat was sore, voice gravelly. You assumed you had been out for some time. Rhys observed you carefully, like you were a specimen he was investigating.

“You took on a hoard of those creatures. Alone. Do you remember that?” His question was almost accusatory, as if he didn’t believe the story.

You nodded. “Yes.” The reminder of those horrible bug creatures made you shiver, the sounds of them dying echoing in your ears.

“Can you show me? How you did it?” Rhys’ eyes bore into you, almost a threat. You stared right back, not appreciating the doubt from your friend.

“Go ahead. I have nothing to hide.” A claw stroked your mental shields and you dropped them easily. The memories of the fight began playing, the anger you felt overtaking your senses. If you hadn’t been there you wouldn’t have believed the strength you showed to defeat all of them. The reminder of your wounds stung your healing skin, Rhys even wincing as he watched. He could feel your rage, your power.

He could feel the dedication and love you felt towards Azriel.

You threw your shields back up at that, not wishing to let him in any further. He had seen enough. Rhys blinked at you, eyes flitting between you and Azriel. “I see,” he mused. “Well, you certainly did kill them all. That’s quite some feat of power. I think perhaps I should tell Cassian to up your training.” He winked at you and moved to leave the room. “I’ll let the healers know you are awake. I will be back later to check in.” He left, closing the door quietly behind him. Leaving you with Azriel.

Azriel, who was looking at you like you were the most delicate flower he had ever seen. “Are you sure you’re alright?” His concern struck a chord in you, a hand reaching out for his.

“I will be just fine. How are you? Is your head okay?” Your eyes scanned his hairline, relieved that there seemed to be no permanent damage.

“I’m good. My wounds weren’t half as bad as yours. They knocked me unconscious once I hit the ground.” His eyes lowered and he ran his thumb over your joined hands. “I should’ve been there for you. To help.”

You squeezed his hand in your own. “You were attacked, Az. I’m just glad I was able to get to you in time. If I were a moment later…” your voice trailed off and tears pricked at your eyes. Those straws were so close to stabbing into his body, sucking the life out of him.

“Hey,” he said, looking back up at you. “You saved my life. That’s all that matters.” He gave you a smile, your heart squeezing tight.

“Yea,” you agreed, even though you wished to say more. You wanted to tell him you loved him, be honest about your feelings. You were so close to losing him, to losing any chance to be with him. The fear of rejection stopped you from continuing, the way it always did.

Azriel was looking at you intently, eyes seeming to read your mind. You put on a small smile, pushing your feelings back down. His eyes dipped down to your lips, gaze heavy. Your heart skipped at his expression of hunger. “Az,” you whispered as he leaned closer to you.

“Hm?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your mouth.

“What are you doing?” Your voice was a whisper, so quiet you weren’t sure he could hear you.

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago.” He ducked his head down then, pressing his lips to yours. You went completely still at the touch of him, mind in overdrive. He began to pull away when you came to, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back. You kissed him hard then, the way you wished you had when you thought he was going to die. When you thought you’d never get the chance to.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tight to him. You ignored the protest of pain in your arm and leg, focusing on the feel of Azriel pressed up against you. Of his mouth on yours. The way one of his hands began traveling down your thigh, fingers running along the edge of your nightgown. He bit gently on your lower lip, a silent question to open your mouth. You obliged, moaning at the taste of him. His fingers dug into your thigh at the noise and you let out a cry of pain.

Azriel pulled away from you quickly, apologizing immediately. “Maybe we should wait until you’re healed.” You sighed at the statement, but unfortunately agreed. You wanted to enjoy your first time tasting, feeling, loving Azriel. You pouted at him as he readjusted you, laying you back down on your pillows. He brushed a stray piece of hair off your forehead, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your skin. “I love you.”

Your heart was going to thud out of your chest. “I love you too.” Your declaration was a tad breathless, trying to decide if you could actually ignore the pain long enough to get on top of the male. He laughed, sensing your thoughts and gave you a soft kiss. You had waited so long for this moment, to have your love reciprocated.

“You need to rest.” He moved to hover slightly over you, carefully moving his way down your body. His fingers found the edge of your gown again, eyes looking up to yours from between your legs. “There are plenty of other ways I can please you.”

***

I needed to write something that was a request or a series, so this is what happened. I hope you guys enjoyed it!!! <3

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #acotar #azriel #azriel angst #azriel smut #don’t blame me

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disasterofastory · 2 years

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The maid of Mr. Barnes - Part 8 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

The maid of Mr. Barnes Part 8 - Chaos for breakfast // The maid of Mr. Barnes Masterlist Bucky Barnes x Reader Mafia AU Warnings: wounds

Summary: Your morning doesn’t go as planned.

Steve sits at the counter in his usual seat. The light blue suit stretches on his broad back. The phone in his hands vibrates with a new message, but he doesn't give it more than a glance before his attention is back on you. You move back and forth, making coffee and pancakes for men you barely met before. Your hair is a bit of a mess, but the soft smile on your face is permanent. It is the first time he sees you so relaxed since the house became so rowdy. Their men are all over the place, eating and drinking. Dirty knives lay around the counter, and plates gather in the sink. There is a red jam stain on the table cloth you use to wipe down the marble.

"Peter!" You greet the young man when he appears at the door, stepping aside before it could hit him on the back. "Come and eat!" Before answering, the brunette's eyes wander to Steve for permission. The blonde smiles with a nod, watching Peter sitting down next to him. "Good morning, Mr. Rogers," he greets the older man, and when you put a plate in front of him full of pancakes and a mug of coffee, he adds. "Thank you, Y/N." "Call me Steve, Peter," Steve says for who knows home many times already. "I have known you since you finished high school." "Do you need help with the garden today, Pete?" You ask the boy when you have a few seconds of calmness. The kitchen is fairly quiet now that everyone is eating. "Not today," the boy answers. "I just came to pick up a few of my things." "Well, eat then, and you can be on your way," you nod. "Steve? Are you sure you are not hungry?" "Thank you, Y/N," the blonde man smiles gently at you. "You can go and eat. I will be fine."

You sit down on a free chair at the table, smiling at the men around it. The fruity jam melts on your tongue, and you are ready to devour it before you start working, but the commotion outside of the kitchen steals your attention from your breakfast. You barely have time to react while the others are already out to see what happened. You glance at Peter, who shrugs and follows you outside, staying in the background.

Sam and Nomad stand in front of the entrance door. The tall blond almost hangs on Sam's shoulder, beaten. He keeps Nomad on his feet, holding him tight by his waist. His lower lip is bleeding, and a bruise is already forming around his crystal blue eyes. "What happened?" Steve asks, stepping closer to them, but Bucky cuts in as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. "What the fuck happened?" He asks. His voice is booming. The windows almost rattle in their frame. "Hydra," Sam replies when he sees Nomad is not ready to speak yet. His head throbs, and he wants to sit down, but nobody moves to help him. Everybody is waiting for the boss's reaction, and they don't have to wait long.

Soon, the whole house is loud with Bucky's booming voice. You never saw him so angry before. His posture is taut, and his every word is a strike in the air. His men stand frozen, listening and keeping their heads low. The pleasant mood is nowhere now. His eyes are dark and furious as he commands around, threatening everyone. "We will wipe them off the face of the Earth," he promises. "No more fucking around!"

You don't even really listen to what he says. The tone he uses is enough to frighten you at first. Behind him, Sam pushes Nomad up to adjust his hold on the beaten man, and that's when you decide to do something. Forcing your legs to move, you keep your head low, staring at the floor. Your heart beats in your throat as you pass Bucky, who doesn't pause his monologue even when his eyes are on you, watching you stop in front of Nomad. Your back burns with everyone's eyes on you. "Come," you whisper to the man. "We have to take care of your wounds." You glance at Sam for permission, and when he nods, you take his place under the tall man's arm. His weight almost pushes you down, and the muscles flex in your legs to keep him on his feet. "Slowly," you hum, still keeping your voice quiet as you help him to the closest bathroom while the men stay in the foyer under Bucky's rage.

You sit Nomad down on the edge of the bathtub and close the door to keep the voices at bay. It becomes muffled, and you can see Nomad's body relax. "Damn it," the man groans. "I have a date tonight." In other circumstances, you would laugh. Here he is beaten up, barely standing on his legs, and he is worried about his date. "I'm sure they will understand," you tell him. "Do you need something? Maybe a hospital?" "No, no," he shakes his head. "I will be fine. There is a first aid kit under the sink." "Let me," you stop him, pushing him back gently to keep him from moving too much. His muscles taut under your touch. You take out the small, red box and start to clean his injuries. You try to be gentle and slow, but you can still see he is in pain. You frown with worry. "Are you sure you don't need a doctor?" "I'm fine," he says. "I just need to lay down a little." "I will get your room ready." "Thank you, Bunny." "Bunny?" You froze for a second. Nobody calls you Bunny except Bucky. It's weird hearing it from someone else. "I'm sorry," Nomad chuckles. His wide shoulders shake. "Barnes always calls you Bunny, and I forgot your real name." "Oh." Now you laugh too. "It's Y/N," you tell him. "But Bunny is fine too." You start to get fond of the nickname.

You are still busy with Nomad's wounds when the door opens with Bucky and Sam behind it. The air is still strained around them, but Bucky seems much calmer as he looks Nomad over. "How are you?" He speaks up first. "I will be fine," Nomad replies, trying to smile, but it forms into a grimace. "What happened?" "I wanted to talk to him," the blond man confesses. "Hydra attacked us. I didn't know they were there too, waiting." "And Winter? Where is he?" "He escaped. There was a girl with him." "A girl? Do we know her?" "No," Nomad shakes his head, making you frown and cup his cheeks to keep him in place. "I saw her with him before, but we don't know her. She lives in the next apartment to his." "What do you want to do, Bucky?" Sam asks, thinking over the information. The phone is already in his hands. "We will stop this nonsense," the man answers with determination. "I already send a few men to take care of Hydra for now, and we will find Winter again. They couldn't go far." While they talk, you put the first aid away before turning back to Nomad. "When you are finished, go to your room," you keep yourself from grimacing. You shouldn't order the man around, but you can't help it. He needs sleep and something to eat.

You feel tense and a bit afraid as you walk out of the bathroom next to Bucky. You are not sure if he is angry at you. Maybe you shouldn't have dragged Nomad away. Maybe you should have stayed in the kitchen.

A hand grabs your arm. The touch is soft and warm, making you look up into the stormy blue eyes. There is no anger in them, just gentleness and worry. "Thank you, Bunny. Come to my office later, okay? I want to talk to you."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #mafia au

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holylulusworld · 1 year

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Christmas on the run

Summary: You and Steve didn’t part ways on good terms. What happens when you end up in the same cabin on Christmas?

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warnings: language, enemies to ???, cliché tropes, snowed in, banter

Square 10 filled for @avengersbingo: Snowed in

Square 4 filled for Lulu’s XMAS Bingo: Snowed in

Square 3 filled for Lulu’s Winter bingo: Snowed in

Words: 1,5 k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Three months earlier, …

“Superhero on the run. War of the Avengers. Fight or flight Captain,” you shut off your phone, groaning as the messages still pop up. “Newsflash, assholes. I’m not interested in your shit anymore. Fight all you want. I’m out of this for good.”

You fall back on the comfortable sofa you brought to your fortress of solitude. Your grandfather’s cabin. A place no one but him and you know about.

“Cheers Tony,” you raise your glass at your friend. “I hope you’re happy now. The world is on fire and the Avengers are torn apart. Good thing you signed those fucking accords.”

You down your drink, hissing as the burning liquid runs down your throat.

“What a shitshow, Cap. Being on the run must be fun,” you chuckle darkly. “Fuck you, Cappy. I hope being chased around the world helps you stay in shape…”

Now, Christmas Eve, …

“Food is ready. I got all my favorite movies on Blu-ray. Security is on the highest level,” you look at your phone to check on your tasks. “I got enough food until New Year’s Eve.”

While you look around the cozy room, sighing as you are ready to spend Christmas Eve alone in your chosen exile your dog jolts up. He runs toward the door and grits his teeth.

“Cerberus, stop,” your dog immediately reacts to your command. He still grits his teeth and is ready to jump at anyone daring to break into your cabin, but he waits for you to allow him to do so. “I got this.”

You slowly step toward the door, grabbing the shotgun you hide next to the door. You unlock the gun, taking a deep breath.

“My dog can smell you out there. If you want to break into my cabin, you should know I do not hesitate to kill you. You better get the fuck off my lawn.”

“This is not a lawn, but rather a forest,” frowning you listen to the man’s rant. “Doll, I’m not in the mood to break down another door. I need to hide at your place for a while.”

“No can do, Capsicle,” he huffs as you refuse to open the door. “I told you to keep me out of your beef with Tony last time you contacted me. You made sure I had to leave the Avengers before shit went down. So, get out of my sight!”

“Listen, I got no time for this shit,” you gasp. Captain America, the golden boy scolding you for your fecal language just cursed. “Let me inside or I’ll break through the door, doll.”

“Fuck’s sake,” you unlock the door. “Can you all not leave me alone?” You open the door but press the shotgun to Steve’s chest. “No tricks, Captain. I won’t join your little club and there will be no support from my side.”

You step aside, hoping Stark and Ross won’t believe you support Steve and his little group.

“Can I come in now?” you still recognize his voice, and piercing blue eyes but the bearded Captain America stepping inside your cabin seems so different from the man you used to know.

“Sure,” you huff. “Make yourself home and ruin my life even more. Why don’t cha?”

“It was your insubordination ruining your career, not me,” he snaps back. He looks tired, worn out, and just done with this world.

“What happened to your suit? Don’t you wear stars and stripes anymore, Cappy?”

He huffs. “It’s still the same suit, just a little more worn-out…”

You look Steve up and down as he paces back and forth. “If you say so. So, what brings you here? How did you even find me?”

“I had to hide and didn’t find a better place,” he shrugs. “I remembered the cabin you mentioned, and came here, believing no one will be out here. I was wrong…obviously.”

“I never told a single soul about my grandfather’s cabin. No one,” you step closer to Steve to size him up. “How the fuck did you find it?”

“You told me about it.”

“Like hell,” snapping your fingers for your dog you keep a close eye on Steve. “You owe me an explanation. If you do not answer my questions, you can go back out there. The approaching snowstorm will freeze your ass off, but I couldn’t care less.”

Steve squares his jaw. He didn’t come out here and made his way through the snow to answer your questions.

“Tony checked your background. Thoroughly. Your grandfather bought the property forty years ago.”

“That asshole checked my grandfather’s background too?” you sneer. “Typical. Stark likes to stick his nose into other people’s business. No wonder the Avengers broke up.”

“We did not break up,” Steve rolls his eyes. “We-I fucked up. I should’ve told Tony about his parents and what Bucky did.”

“Aw, do you want to make up with Stark now?” you smirk. “Do you want me to call him? Maybe you want to all come here and ruin my Christmas just for fun.”

“You love this, don’t you? Y/N Y/L/N always was all bark and no bite,” he sasses back, returning your smirk. “I came here to hide from the world once again. We’ve got no time for chit-chat, doll.”

“I’m not your doll, Cappy,” you wave him off. “You better tell me what you want. I want you on your way and for you to leave me alone.”

“You want me to go back out there,” he points at the window. Snow is mercilessly falling. You’ll be snowed-in in no time. “I won’t make it out alive out of these woods.”

“Not my problem.”

You sit down on your sofa and snuggle into your blanket. “Fine. I got separated from the others. Bucky is safe, but the others are still out there, fighting to not get caught by Ross.”

This time you roll your eyes. “Do you even know why Tony wanted me on the team?” you dip your head as Steve dares to sit on the armchair opposite your couch. “Do you?”

“He never told me,” Steve closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. “Can we get this over with? I’m so tired.”

“I’m a breathing polygraph, Cappy. That’s why I knew the Accords were bullshit and that your friend didn’t kill that guy,” you shrug as Steve gasps audibly.

“What? I-you knew?” he splutters. “Why didn’t you say a thing?”

“I could’ve told him about it. But you,” you chuckle now, “made it impossible for me to get even close to Stark.”

“No. How could you not stop us?”

“Aw, you should see your sad face, Cappy,” you coo. “I called, though. I left messages. I sent emails. I even tried to break into the Avenger’s tower to talk to Stark. I didn’t even get close to him.”

“You knew all this time…”

You nod.

“I couldn’t do a thing. I knew the accords and Bucky would fracture the team. Stark didn’t answer my calls, and neither did you. While you and Tony fought at the airport, I tried to reach you one last time. The last thing I heard was that you are on the run and Tony brought a broken shield home.”

“If you know all of this,” he whispers lowly. “You know why I came here too…”

“No. I don’t,” you retort. “I cannot read your mind, Steve. All I’m capable of is telling you if anyone lies. That’s all.”

“You see, the world is close to its extinction once again. We will get attacked by a power beyond your imagination,” you watch Steve closely. “I need your help.”

“I can’t,” you switch the TV on and try to ignore Steve’s presence. “If you came here to ask me to join your team, you are mistaken. I won’t lift a finger for you, or Team Iron Man. Leave me out of this shit.”

“This is not about the Avengers or me,” Steve gets back up from the armchair. “It’s of importance that you come with me. Dr. Strange said it’s the only way to save Natasha, Tony and someone called Gamora...”

“He said the same thing to me a few weeks ago,” you laugh. “He lied, Cappy. He only tries to get the band back together.”

“Why would he lie?”

“He’s just done cleaning up your and Stark’s shit. Get your shit together, call Stark and make up.”

Steve chuckles at your attitude. “If you let me stay here until the snowstorm ends, I’ll call Tony.”

“Lie.”

“I’ll try calling him.”

“Another lie.”

“Fine. What do you want me to do? He won’t even take my call!”

“He’s waiting for you to make the first step. Give him that and he’ll be putty in your hands,” you grin. “Now let me watch my favorite movie and you can sit over there and look pretty…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#avengersbingo #steve rogers #nomad steve rogers #Nomad!Steve x Reader #nomad!steve #Nomad!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #Christmas on the run #lulu's winter bingo #lulu's xmas bingo

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yoomiii123 · 2 years

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What would have happened if Alice and Jasper didn't get their gifts when they became vampires ?

Thanks @jessicanjpa for making me think about this one again and finally write my thoughts down.

Alice would have gone feral and would probably either have been killed by a nomadic vampire, the volturi or because she strayed too far South and ended up on a battlefield. She wouldn't have had Jasper telling her her name or Carlisle showing her how a vampire's life could be. All she would have known in her second life was the pain of transformation and the thirst for blood. She would have been all alone with no-one to help or explain her new existence to her. It would have been a very tragic and likely short second life.

Jasper might never have risen through the ranks of Maria's army fhe way he did. He is most likely still a formidable fighter but without his influence over the newborns, he's also nothing more than that to her. Maria might have ended his life after the first year or not, I am not 100% sure about that because it depends on too many outside factors (how many newborns did yhe have, how big was her territory, did she find another gifted vampire to make her second-in-command, etc.)

If she decided not to kill him and Jasper still became her second hand, he probably would have stayed with her indefinetly. Without his gift, depression from killing wouldn't have been an issue. Their army and territory would, however, have been less remarkable because without Jasper's soothing influence they wouldn't have been able to hold the number of newborns they had in canon. I doubt that in this world, Jasper would have ever known much more than violence, blood, and fighting for your life on a daily basis.

Bonus: Alice and Jasper still met the way they did (Alice has her gift, Jasper left Maria) but Jasper doesn't have his gift.

As a huge jalice fan, I have thought about this for a long time and came to the conclusion that their meeting would most likely have ended with Jasper running away (Alice trying to follow him until he sees her as a big enough threat and kills her) or with Jasper killing her on the spot. His gift is such a vital part of their meeting because being blinded by Alice's emotions and feeling her lack of hostility are the reasons why Jasper trusts her enough to listen what she has to say. If he didn't have that, Alice would just be a freaky vampire who knows way too much about him and therefore is a danger to his existence.

So yes, here are my thoughts. Anyone have a different opinion / further remarks?

#jalice first meeting #jalice #jasper hale #alice cullen #vampire gifts #twilight renaissance #twilight saga #the twilight saga

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buffyxlaurel · 10 months

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full name: elizabeth grace laurel

nicknames: buffy

age: 23

star sign: march 17th (pisces)

hometown: magnolia springs, alabama

occupation: beautician at the cutting edge salon

pronouns/gender: she/her, cis female

time in town: five weeks

current residence: mountainside (lives out of her van)

(this bio contains mentions of conservative politics/religion, teen pregnancy and adoption, and domestic abuse. please proceed with caution if said topics are triggering to you)

general facts

buffy was born the oldest of six children, her father was a local preacher and her mother was a homemaker

for around the first thirteen years of her life, buffy feel very well into her role. she helped raise her younger siblings, never disobeyed her parents, and went to church every sunday and prayed throughout the day and also participated in homeschooling where her parents could command the cirriculum

the older buffy got, the more she questioned things about the world she saw outside of their small town and how people were treated in the name of their religion -- she was often punished for being "disrespectful" when she was innocently questioning

after a summer romance with a boy at bible camp, buffy was around six months pregnant before she fully realized what was happening (homeschooling never covered sex ed). abortion was never on the table and while her parents insisted that she keep the baby and raise it as their own, buffy chose to give the child up for adoption after he was born

her relationship with her parents never recovered -- they wouldn't speak to buffy in spite of the fact she was still living under the same roof as them. beliving she had nothing left to lose, buffy left town with a boy and made her way west with him as soon as she turned eighteen.

they made it as far as vegas before he hit her for the first time. after a brief time there, while the guy was out drinking, buffy stole the keys to his van and took off without him.

after settling near portland, living out of her van, buffy met a kind window named thelma who took her in and helped her to get her GED. after that accomplishment, she went on to get her vocational degree from beauty school -- making her way to fairford soon after, currently living in her van at the park in mountainside while she's building up her client books in town.

personality

+optimistic, thoughtful, loyal

-avoidant, dramatic, nosy

fun facts

didn't know about the vampire slayer until about three years ago

is at the drive in about every friday, no matter what movies are playing

karaoke song of choice is 'you belong with me' by taylor swift

has probably purchased every pink item of clothing from every thrift shop in a ten mile radius

favorite flower is peonies, favorite ice cream is peanut butter, favorite holiday is christmas, favorite movie is 'clueless'

current connects

TBA

wanted connections

clients! people who are currently letting buffy do their hair! she's a chatterbox when she's got someone in the chair, but she's a great listener too

fast friend! someone buffy met early on in town and who she's really hit it off with (buffy probably uses their shower #vanlife)

movie buddy! another movie fan that joins buffy on nights at the drive in (partner in snack smuggling)

protector! someone who has noticed buffy's nomadic lifestyle and helps keep an eye out for her

really, she's fairly chaotic so any wild connections could work one way or another so hmu on discord at bendela#8730

#fairfordintro #info.#bio.

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toaster-toads · 7 months

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~ Oc x Edward Kenway~

. The Shadow & Jackdaw .

Chapter One: Scarlet Sands

-~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~-

⚠️Trigger Warning!⚠️ : Slight mention of blood and violence and the mention of death.

“Full sail!! All sail!!” Edward shouted at the crew of the jackdaw, his eyes locked on an Island up ahead. Supposedly this island had some type of old temple on it with loads of priceless treasure. And from what Exward had heard there was most likely no one on it as well. “We must search this temple, if there is any plunder we must take it!”

“Aye Aye captain!” Some of his crew called back to him as they handled their duties aboard the ship. As the Jackdaw approached the island the wind started to blow hard, the clouds in the sky were getting really dark in the gray distance. Edward felt the need to stay silent so he gave a signal for the crew to be quiet as well.

The crew did as he commanded as they prepared to anchor before they got into too shallow of waters for the ship. The Jackdaw safely anchored close enough to the shore, Edward was standing on the deck with his crew as he looked for an entrance to the mysterious temple on the island ahead of them. Through the spyglass, Edward couldn't see much of anything other than the mountainous jungle range of the island. It was untamed and didn't seem to have any signs of life on the large island.

Edward ordered the crew members to stay and guard the ship while he and the two other crew members explored the jungle. They took the lifeboat to shore from the ship, ready to explore the vast Island. Edward and the two other crew members took out their swords as they ventured into the jungle, they didn't know what to expect and what waited for them on this mysterious island. The crew followed Edward, being careful and quiet as they went.

The dense jungle trees made it hard to see what was in front of them, but at some point, they saw what looked like an old, but in good condition, a stone stairway that went uphill into a mountain. Just as Edward was about to step onto the stone stairwell up the mountain, he and his crew abruptly stopped as in the far distance they heard a gunshot rung out in the distance, deeper into the island. The crew looked startled and looked at Edward as birds took to the sky far off squalling from the distant bang.

Edward signaled for the crew to stay alert, they all stood still and listened, a second gunshot rang out this time it sounded a bit closer. In the same direction and distance, he heard the agonizing yell of a man in pain at the second shot, still a mile or so from them. The two crewmates grew nervous as they stared at their captain. Edward was concerned about what happened, he told his crew to follow him as they all swiftly ran in the direction of those gunshots.

Eventually, Edward and the crewmates retched a small cliffside, peering down it to see a small battle happening below between two small groups of people. Edward carefully moved back from the edge to not expose his location, he told his crew to stay back with signals and to not move at all, he grabbed his sword and prepared to go on an attack if the occasion arose.

The two groups had swords slashing and guns firing at each other. They both looked to be pirate factions that were battling amongst the sandy ravine and rocks with the jungle surrounding them. “You’ll never win Caspian! Today's the day you meet your demise!”

A man shouted out as he stood on a high rock, looking down upon the skirmish. He had his cutlass drawn and wore a long blue coat and a large hat that matched. He had dark eyes, a small brown beard, and fair skin. Another young captain stopped from fighting to look up at him, his hat missing from his dark head. This young captain must've been Caspian. He looked Spaniard and had dark chocolate hair, short stubble, and olive skin. He was handsome and wore a multitude of colors, his clothes looking more nomadic than the other captain. Caspian smirked, shaking the blood from his cutlass as he chuckled, pointing it in the direction of the other captain.

“Then why don't you step down from your high horse Captain Barbossa and show me this demise you think I'll face?!” He taunted with a devilish grin. The other captain just growled, shouting back down at him. “Hand us that temple artifact Caspian!” Edward looked with interest at the fight below, his eyes were locked on the arguing captains on the battlefield.

“I’m afraid I can't do that Captain Barbossa!-” Caspain called up at the angered captain with a smirk and devilish chuckle, holding his arms open wide. “-You see, I have a prophecy to fulfill!” He said with an arrogant and sly smirk on his face. Barbossa gritted his teeth As he shook a fist at Caspian.

“If you knew what was good for you you’d hand over that artifact!” He roared, glaring down at Caspian, clutching his cutlass tightly in rage. Edward got curious about what Caspian talked about, this ‘prophecy’, but Barbossa called once more.

“Hand over that artifact or there will be consequences…!” Edward and his two crewmates looked at each other with fear as they started to consider fleeing from this confrontation.

Caspian’s devilish grin grew with Barbossa’s mention of consequences, slowly lowering his arms that were stretched wide as he slowly began to approach the rock Barbossa stood on. He tilted his head as he smirked up at him with eyes filled with a dark mysterious look as he chuckled darkly.

“I’m afraid the only one that will be facing a consequence here… Are you, Captain Barbossa…” He said with a deep growl in his voice, Barbossa snarled at him. “Why you-!”

Barbossa raised his cutlass and was about to dash off the rock when he heard a shriek from an eagle above, causing him to halt and begin to turn to look up behind him to the other cliffside. Just then a figure leaped from the cliffside, bursting out of the jungle brush with force. They were in mid-air, had a hood up over their head, and were displaying an assassination position as they raised their hand, unleashing a hidden blade as they began to sail towards Barbossa mid-air. Barbossa looked absolutely shocked but couldn't react in time, the assassin landing on him with a harsh thud, piercing their hidden blade through his chest as he yelled out in agonizing pain. The assassin and Barbossa rolled off the rock, still intertwined as Barbossa’s extravagant cutlass flew through the air, landing in the sand a few feet from the smirking Caspian. The assassin and Barbossa eventually hit the sand, the assassin perched on top of Barbossa’s body as he gasped for air. The assassin stared at him from under their hood with deadly eyes as they retracted their hidden blade from Barbossa’s chest. Caspian was just chuckling darkly as he slowly waltzed over, taking Barbossa’s cutlass from the sand and then smirking at the dying man on the sand.

“Sorry we had to reunite this way, Captain Barbossa… But this prophecy must be fulfilled... No hard feelings.” Caspian said with a wicked grin as Barbossa lay there, looking up at him as he bled out. The young assassin slowly stood from Barbossa and backed up a few steps. The two crews had frozen from fighting, Barbossa’s crew looking on in horror. Caspian raised Barbossa’s cutlass as his Emerald eyes shined down from under his hair against the sun to Barbossa.

“Farewell old friend…” He said with an unreadable expression. Then plunged the cutlass into Barbossa's heart, causing the captain to go wide-eyed as he gargled on blood and perished. Barbossa’s crew then began to run in fear, back towards their ship at the loss of their captain.

Edward’s crewmates were terrified, they stayed still and watched the whole scene, their eyes were fully locked on the handsome young Caspian and they had a chill running down their backs because of what they were seeing.

Caspain smirked as he watched Barbossa die, pulling the shiny cutlass from his corpse and chuckling. The young assassin just stood nearby, watching Barbossa’s body bleed into the sand. Caspian then looked up, seeing the fallen captain’s crew begin to flee in fear. He chuckled and then looked at his crew, shouting at them. “Chase those fear-bitten scoundrels back to their ship!”

His crew then chased Barbossa’s crew out of the ravine and in the opposite direction of Edward. This left only Caspsin, the young assassin, and Barbossa’s corpse in the now blood-stained, sandy, and rocky ravine. Caspian smirked, glancing back at the dead Barbossa then looked to the assassin as things got dead silent as the shouts of the crews disappeared into the distance. The only sound was the breeze flapping their clothes and the jungle vegetation.

“Great job assassin, you may claim what you’ve come to receive.…” Caspian then looked at Barbossa’s bloodied cutlass that he held in his hand with a smirk. “-I’ve gotten what I came for… He trailed off, looking at the satchel he had around his body that looked like it held something within it.

The assassin pulled back from the hood revealing a woman and her beautiful face although her expression stayed cold. “Is the job completed?” The assassin asked Caspian as she looked at him, the wind started to blow and the trees rustled, the sky started to get darker by the minute and the weather conditions on the small island weren't helping.

Edward couldn't help but gaze at the female assassin in wonder, he couldn't believe this deathly skilled assassin was a woman. She had fair skin, and brown ashy hair that hung messily at her shoulders. In her hair, she had a colorful scarf wrapped through it and a few scattered thin braids that had beads, colored thread, golden clasps, and shiny coins hung in them. She stood about 5’7 and had on flowing assassin robes that were neutral colors for the most part. She had a few accessories that brought Caribbean bright colors to the outfit. She had a rounded face and a full nose as she stared at Caspian with an unreadable look on her face. Caspian chuckled, spinning on his heel slowly to step away from Barbossa’s corpse.

“Aye, yes… You deserve it for your assistance.” He said to the young woman, glancing at her lightly freckled face and stern smokey gray eyes. It was hard to look away as Caspian and the assassin talked while the wind was blowing and the sky was filled with dark clouds, it was an uncomfortable yet intriguing moment for Edward and his crew mates to witness, Edward was even more surprised because the assassin was a woman, he couldn't imagine the assassin he was seeing could be the deadly and skillful assassin he just witnessed assassinate Barbossa.

The assassin was looking at Caspian with her cold expression as the wind whistled, trees rustled with the sound, and her robes flowed gracefully.

The female assassin nodded, kneeling down over Barbossa’s body. She flipped his coat open, a red ruby cross necklace lying against his bloodied chest. She yanked it off his corpse, her gray eyes lifting to Barbossa’s dead face. She respectfully leaned forward, sliding his eyes closed and gently placing his coat back, folding his arms comfortably on his chest. Caspian raised a brow to her actions, watching her closely. He sheathed his cutlass and Barbossa’s on his hips as he sighed.

“I guess the ship is now yours as well Adalia…” He said the female's name as she closed her eyes, paying respects to Barbossa as she knelt over his body. Caspian just watched, chuckling lightly as he looked ahead with a proud gaze as he stood adjacent to her. “So, does this mean that The Anne’s Remembrance is rising from the dead once more…?”

He asked, smirking at her. She sighed, standing as she pocketed the bloodied cross necklace and looked at Caspian’s smirking face with a solid poker face. “No. There's no more remembrance left to that ship...” She said calmly. Caspian raised a sharp brow, folding his arms as he turned to face her with a curious face.

“Then what is the ship's new name…?” He questioned, his eyes looking intriguingly at hers, hiding a little concern. Adalia just glanced at Barbossa’s corpse and then looked back to Caspian. “She will be called The Shadow…”

Edward and his crew mates were watching this exchange and looking at each other with surprise and curiosity, wondering what Adalia meant by her saying that there is no remembrance of that ship. Caspian looked intrigued at the name Adalia chose but he seemed to have a little bit of concern as his eyebrow raised and looked at her. “And who will be the captain of The Shadow?”

“You're looking at her Captain.”Adalia said, lifting her hood back over her head to shield her face from the sun and the breeze. Caspian’s look of curiosity slowly morphed into an amused and arrogant one once more, chuckling at her. “You’re kidding…”

He said, propping his hands on his hips as Adalia began to turn from him and walk away. Caspian shook his head as he laughed, noticing she wasn't paying him any attention. “You can't be the Captain of a Man o’ War Adalia!”

He called out, causing her to stop momentarily, slowly looking over her shoulder at him. Caspian just sent her a devilish grin and a dark stare. “You’re a woman, it’ll never be accepted among the men of the seas…” He said, flexing his jaw as he was finding this quite amusing. The female assassin just stared at him from under her hood. She lightly smirked with a low hum as the breeze blew.

“Lucky for me I don't care what they want to accept, nor do I care for their opinion…” Caspian raised a brow but smirked gently as he began to slowly nod, folding his arms as he sighed and began to slowly walk towards her. “Well then, I guess this is a new age of piracy then…”

As Caspian retched her they both turned, walking side by side in the opposing direction into the jungle. “I guess I should stay on the Allied side of The Shadow…” Caspian sighed as he walked with her. “She’ll be sailed by a deadly and ruthless captain…”

He said as they disappeared. Edward and his crewmates were a little confused but intrigued by Adalia's words, they stayed still for a few seconds thinking about what she said but as Caspian and Adalia disappeared into the jungle the crew was even more intrigued at what they heard and how mysterious this Adalia was.

-~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~-

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed~!✨🙏💖

Story inspired by: Tale of The Shadow by Sail North.

I plan on doing more with this story so stay tuned for that!

Adalia and Caspian are my Assassin’s Creed Blackflag OCs~ 👍

Please do not steal the ideas or appearances of my OCs, thank you~!✨🎉

#assassins creed #assassin’s creed #assassin’s creed black flag #assassins creed black flag #oc short stories #oc short story #oc #oc story #short stories #edward kenway #black flag #ac black flag #Spotify

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sshbpodcast · 1 year

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Put a cork in it: Bottle episodes in Star Trek

By Ames

“Good Lord, didn't anybody here build ships in bottles when they were boys?” Well, Star Trek sure did, and quite frequently! According to Memory Alpha, bottle shows are “episodes which take place mostly on existing sets and do not generally involve major guest stars.” Basically, any time we never leave the ship so that the show can save money for more expensive future episodes that have bigger sets, more special effects, or most frequently, the Borg.

But even in that definition, there’s still a lot of vaguery. “Mostly” on existing sets. Do not “generally” involve major guest stars. Many listicles of the best bottle episodes across the internet include instances that don’t fit all the components, but fulfill at least some of them. Look at it like a four-set Venn Diagram (which I learned is best arranged like this):

So let’s climb inside the bottle. What episodes perfectly satisfy all the elements and sit in that much sought-after place in the center of the Venn Diagram? Read on below for A Star to Steer Her By’s favorites and listen to our almost certainly contradictory discussion on this week’s podcast episode (jump to 1:04:49) to find out if we’re suckups who’ve built ships in bottles like O’Brien, or if we don’t play with toys like Worf.

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Bottle Episodes with a Central Guest Star

Probably the most common kind of bottle episode is one with a simple plot, a physical confinement to the ship or station, and a non-crew character around whom the plot revolves in a pivotal way. The guest characters come to us and bring with them some kind of conflict for our main characters to handle. You know, your Richard Daystrom in “The Doomsday Machine,” Charlie Evans in “Charlie X,” Lal in “The Offspring,” Commander MacDuff in “Conundrum,” or Lon Suder in “Meld” (someone avenge that beautiful psychopath!). This list could go on and on because there are so many pretty contained episodes in which the guest of the week propels the plot forward. I’m compelled to include “The Changeling” here as well since I would treat Nomad as a full character even if he wasn’t a physical actor.

Our favorite example of this kind of bottle episode is easily “Duet” from season one of Deep Space Nine. Since so much of that entire series is set on the station, one would assume that most episodes of DS9 qualify as bottle episodes, but there’s frequently some specific budget expense that makes them more expensive than they were meant to be or some other guest stars hogging the spotlight. In this case, casting the extraordinary Harris Yullin as Marritza was well worth it, as this episode shines despite its self-imposed limitations.

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Bottle Episodes that “Leave the Ship”

I call it impressive if the characters can leave the ship and the episode still be considered in the running as a bottle episode due to some kind of shenanigans. For instance, I’d qualify something like “Mirror, Mirror” in this category – technically, it’s not on our Enterprise and yet still reusing the same sets. Similarly, “The Mark of Gideon,” “Where Silence Has Lease,” “Empok Nor,” and “Distant Voices” (wait, I said our “favorite” episodes, didn’t I?) all accomplish this by having the characters visit redresses of their respective sets for various reasons. What a great way to save a couple bucks!

In the The Original Series episode “The Doomsday Machine,” for instance, the starship Constellation is another Constitution class ship. Just turn the lights off in any of the usual sets and move some props around and blamo: instant new bridge! It’s like a whole new starship up in here! Thank Commodore Decker for this quick money-saving tip!

—

Bottle Episodes with Other Sets

Sometimes, you can stay on the ship and still need to build a new set, like in TNG’s “Eye of the Beholder” where we see the inside of the nacelles for the first (and last) time and Voyager’s “One” in which we set up the stasis room. Many holodeck episodes might fall into this category as well, since technically we haven’t left the ship, but we see, say, the Bynars’ jazz club in “11001001” or Sandrine’s in “Someone to Watch Over Me,” which we covered this week.

I’d also deign to call episodes with just a brief stop at Planet Hell more bottley than even some episodes that don’t leave the ship at all. Both “The Naked Time” and “The Naked Now” start with a crewman getting infected with space madness outside the ship, but it is that need to quarantine that forces the rest of the episode to focus the story inwards, utilizing every cent wisely thereafter. And episodes like TOS’s “The Corbomite Maneuver” and DS9’s “Whispers” and “The Sound of Her Voice” are off the ship so briefly at the very end that they might as well have been strict bottle episodes.

Possibly the most controversial thing I’ll include in this list is one of A Star to Steer Her By’s favorite cost-cutting episodes: the TOS third-season money saver “The Empath.” Sure, they leave the Enterprise for a whole new set, but it’s the cheapest set you’ll ever see. Nothing but black walls and spotlights for the actors to stand in. Like our previous category about central guest stars, this episode features a Gem (literally!), but I still think it’s worth bringing up because of how it told a decent story on a shoestring budget.

—

Bottle Episodes with Significant Effects

Frequently, it seems like an episode is conceived as a bottle episode, but then ends up going over budget anyway because the design scope increased without expectation. You don’t have to leave the ship to spend a lot of money on special effects, costumes, and just blowing things up. Tell that to Janeway in “Deadlock,” which was a clever reuse of the Voyager set… until someone got a hold of the destruct codes. Similarly, if it weren’t for the Bozeman and the Enterprise colliding (and whatever it cost to get Kelsey Grammer on camera for all of sixty seconds), “Cause and Effect” would make it on more bottle episode lists. You can similarly go overboard with costumes and makeup in shipbound episodes like TOS’s “Journey to Babel” and SNW’s “The Elysian Kingdom.”

I’ve seen a whole bunch of listicles that all include the Discovery season one episode “Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad” as a candidate for a bottle episode. Which is an interesting choice because I don’t think ANY the currently running Trek series are scrimping to keep on a budget because of the sheer number of effects. And “Magic…” is a good example of this while also keeping all of the action to the Discovery. Who knows, maybe with how modern CGI has improved, it’s actually cheaper? Until you have to pay Rainn Wilson, that is.

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The Pure Bottle Episodes

Are episodes that fulfill every element of being a bottle episode better than the preceding? Well, you tell us because we did, in fact, find a number of pure bottle episodes! They can be as refreshing as fresh spring water because they keep very simple and focused. Having just our usual characters (and maybe some extras and repeated guest stars) really allows the writers to dig into character work without relying on spectacle, constant set changes, or a big planetside adventure.

So episodes like TOS’s “The Immunity Syndrome,” TNG’s “Disaster” and “Clues,” DS9’s “Babel,” VOY’s “Worst Case Scenario,” and ENT’s “Shuttlepod One” and “Doctor’s Orders” succeed in telling a simple shipside story focused on their respective existing characters. Little episodes with big payoffs!

Here’s my pick of the whole blogpost: Give it up for Dr. Crusher in The Next Generation’s “Remember Me”! This episode has got it all – or rather, has got so very little – that it might be the ultimate bottle episode. The number of characters diminishes as the episode goes on because the whole world around Bev is constricting, but she’s still hard at work solving the riddle put to her. She’s quite literally in her own pocket universe – how much more bottley can you get than that? Effects are minimal, guest stars are most noteworthy in their absence, and it’s all confined to a couple of sets while still being a story that is impressive and, dare I say, memorable.

—

We’ve finally corked this bottle and put it on display in our ready room! The humble bottle episode displays some of the best qualities of Star Trek: stories in small spaces that encompass huge universes. A Star to Steer Her By is back to exploring more of the Trek universe every Thursday on SoundCloud or wherever you get your podcasts. Keep up with our voyage through Voyager, raise your glasses with us over on Facebook and Twitter, and chug chug chug chug!

#star trek #star trek podcast #podcast #bottle episodes #bottle shows #ship in a bottle #the original series #the next generation #deep space nine #voyager #enterprise #discovery #strange new worlds #duet #the doomsday machine #the empath #magic to make the sanest man go mad #remember me

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talesofmetalandmagic · 11 months

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“There’s more of them everyday, my Emperor”

Marshall Adanna and Azir watch from atop the railings, walking side by side in the warmth of the morrow as refugees and nomads pour into the walls of the old Capital.

"Soon we'll not know where to put them"

"Is this a challenge?" he asks, half-joking. She steps back, as she doesn't know how to respond. Following orders is easy, as is bringing in commands, but chatting with a God is a whole another deal.

"I s'pose."

"And I shall respond and win. We'll tear down the walled up rooms, build makeshifts shelters in the gardens... even the old temples will host beds and cots"

"Not the temples..." Adanna exhales, but Azir's hand meets her shoulder. "The old Gods won't be upset at having to host their people in need. Or may they worth crumble like a house built on sand."

He's always been... peculiar, Adanna thinks. Even in a more humble disposition, he never does anything halfway.

“A lot of them are ill. Xerath rampages through the lands with a new trick every day." And am I most glad I'm not there to be tested upon. "They burn in fever. Many are children.”

And it’s as if someone had just shot Azir with an arrow to the back.

“Ch… children?”

“Yes, resplendent one. Children. Many of them parentless. The youngest I've seen was a few months at best." Azir holds onto the railing so tightly the stone crumbles in his mighty hold, and Adanna looks at his shrouded face as if to peer through his skull. "Does this upset you?"

A harsh moment of silence follows. Then he lets go of the railing, wipes his hands on his skirt and pulls up his cowl.

"Where are they?"

Azir, as an Emperor, has done many unprecedented things.

He's Ascended without being deemed as worthy by the proper authorities. He's passed reforms to require the conquered slaves with three square meals a day, fine and imprison anyone who used torture and corporal punishment, forbid the removal of names – at least in private – and provide children with compulsory education.

Which [let it be clear as day] still wasn't enough because it was not freedom. It was unprecedented but not quite enough.

And, as deserved payback, he's been unprecedentedly taken prisoner after Ascension, taken down a peg, humiliated, humbled and destitute in anything but title.

Made aware of the weight of his mistakes and driven to listen and learn in a way his lofty predecessors couldn't possibly fathom, he follows on the road of unprecedented behavior by caring first-hand for the poor people in need.

Not just empty charity or speeches of platitude. He's there, among the commoners, dressed in a practical tunic and with no jewels except his coronet.

The more stern imperialists remain aghast as he walks into the tents, speaking to each of the people present, braving the stench of disease and the uneasy crowd – until at last, greeted by the half-awake gaggle of sick children, does he sit.

"Ny name is Azir", he says. "Now each one of you will tell me yours."

To one child, he tells glorious legends of battle. To another he sings a gentle song about home, remembrance and family. To a small child, he produces the same pigeon noises his Imani loved so. Their laughter is as sweet.

He sings again later that evening, armed with a precious lute procured by Sivir. And the following e evening the lutes are two, as Nasus has joined him. He's not a fan of playing in public, but it's less embarrassing when there's two of them.

Not everything he does relates to children, and is even that adorable. He cares for the wounded tirelessly, gently. Washing festered wounds, popping and washing blisters, damping foreheads and faces, emptying chamber pots. After a few days, his cream cloak gets so stained in blood, fluids and medicines he ditches it, even though it's a comfort outfit for his sore body, and the removal of his shawl – necessary to see and be seen – was already enough to make him feel more bare.

Sometimes they fall asleep and never wake up, even children who could barely speak. And there he is: covering the bodies, cuddling them as if they could feel him, preparing them for their final ritual – every minute Shuriman culture has their own tradition for burial, some burn their dead, some bury them, some let them sink into the waters of life, and he needs notes to remember them all, written in a small notebook he carries on his belt – and most of all holding onto the grieving dear ones, comforting them in his warm feathered embraces.

And he has good reasons to relate.

"My poor child... there, there. You won't be lost. I lost my mama too in my youth, you know?" "Amhina? My sister was called that too. I'm so sorry, dearest young one." "My own son loved senet as well. I too still keep the pieces. I can have it made into a necklace, if it helps grieve.”

And even...

"Was he your father, dearest?" "No. He was my uncle, but he was like a father to me." "I have one too. They're the most precious".

When children die it's the most painful. He makes it a point to bury and burn them with their toys whenever possible, hugging their small bodies as if they could feel his warmth. When it comes to him that grieving parents like him need community to heal, he organizes a space to talk about loss and discuss it. He pays a local troupe of jesters that came into his gates to entertain the children in his stead. Sells some of the prized jewels to foreign buyers to sustain them. Organizes tours to the sea for the children who've never seen it.

And in all that, he still finds scraps of time to make Nasus his evening tisane, pay his weekly visits to Renekton and care for Hathor.

I order you to rest, he tells his Curator. Don't talk back to me. I'll make sure you don't carry too much.

Being a black pot is also very Azir.

Not everybody appreciates his effort. The most disappointed in him are those who, back in the day, would have bled for imperial grace.

"An Emperor touching such foul things... he's defaced"

"I've seen him wipe vomit yesterday. Has Azir forgotten himself?"

"What kind of a God is he?"

"He's no savior"

And the worst of them all. "We should have listened to the Magus Ascended!"

Azir can hear those whispers as clear as day. They gnaw at his mind like the maggots that once infested him, and the more he tries to focus on work to keep it out, the more it bites him.

You're not the Emperor anymore, someone says. A voice metallic, stern, poised.

And he totters to think about it. His crown is a coronet of quartz and stone, more fit for a modest trader in an elegant occasion than for the Ruler of All. He hasn't sat on a throne for the Sun Disc knows when. People don't bow to him when he steps into the room, and the ceremonial speak is never heard except in plays. When he rips his skirt during his trots he sows it himself. When a grieving parent, whom he was to carry put of a room to so their cries wouldn't frighten the children, slaps him in the face in a fit of anger, their hand doesn't fall from their wrist.

And he brews tea.

Perhaps I should... no, I can't. I'll return to the throne once it's done and rule as required. I cannot do this. Not in my father's home.

#league of legends #lol #azir #emperor azir #omah azir #azir’s new groove #nasus #renekton #inspiring marshall #marshall adanna #one must taste humility and put in to work if they're to atone

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the-h-logs · 1 year

Text

Ask me when the rain stops

How I felt that day

Tell you how the shield dropped

And where the graves lay

It's not pretty nor a heart throb

But I'll tell you when we see a ray

Now silence until the rain stops

And listen to what the drops say

I don't remember much of the light

At dawn, all we did was run and cry

Memories settled with the monarch of night

Came to show us the lie

How horrible and shameful it was to a knight

Many on knees and wished to die

It was the fog that blinded our sight

And the blood of brothers tasted like rye

On the furthest mountain to the west

You'll see a tree bearing fruits of fire

The place where the dead rest

You'll hear their souls in a choir

Singing their song for any guest

Songs of their hope and desire

For knights, hell lies in the west

A hell more treacherous than any fire

I remember her voice, you know

How she sang us to a bloodlust

Sweet as honey and a whisper so low

How happy we were to turn bodies to dust

With her command ash fell as snow

And killed the meaning of trust

I must confess one thing though

Ashamed that I am and filled with disgust

In a place in my heart where my face won't show

You'll find a red fire of lust

It's a sin I must bear

The last regret of this old nomad

Even with all the hate and despair

And all the graves that I had

To dig and still find that flair

I, whose will was iron clad

A shame to the name and the heir

But I still wish to hear her sing

I'd add more fire to that tree

And slay every child, woman, or king

I heard her once and I'm never free

My heart flutters every spring

Hoping every wind is she

I know death is just and the bell must ring

If you can lift the blade then kill me

For I will draw blood of every thing

Until my last sight is she

#poetry #witch #knight #fantasy

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cleflink · 2 years

Note

21! and 7 please? \(//∇//)\ thank you, love your writing so much ♡

Ahh! Thank you for playing. (⁀ᗢ⁀)

21. Moomin-starfall

Moomin! I’ve never actually finished/posted any Moomin fic, but I am still quite fond of all things Moomintroll. This story is loosely inspired by Stardust (novel by Neil Gaiman and also a movie), wherein the Moomin gang rescue a strange young lady who bears a striking resemblance to a certain scruffy mumrik.

Moomintroll stepped closer, raising his voice enough to be heard over the crashing of the waves against the rocks. "Snufkin!"

"Oh, Moomin!" Snufkin looked over, his eyes gleaming with a fierce delight that belied his calm composure. There was something undeniably wild about Snufkin in weather like this, almost as though he was throwing off a mask of civility, just like the clouds were, and reveling in the coming chaos. "Hello! What brings you out here?"

"I was looking for you. Shouldn't you come in? Mama says the storm's going to hit soon!"

"She's quite right about that. That's Moominmamma for you."

A particularly strong wave hit the rocks, sending up a curtain of water that just barely missed soaking Snufkin from hat to boots. Moomintroll jumped in surprise, and nearly lost his footing on the slick rocks.

Snufkin didn't even flinch. "Oh, this is no kind of weather to be outside in!" "Now that's where you're wrong," Snufkin said, in that peculiar way he had of disagreeing kindly, so that a moomin almost forgot he was being disagreed with. "This is the best kind of weather to be outside in. When else but during a storm is the world so beautiful?" "I prefer a sunny midsummer's day myself," Moomin answered honestly. He followed Snufkin's gaze out towards the heaving waves. They looked cold. And dangerous. "And I'm not really sure it's a good idea to stay out here much longer unless you really want to get wet."

"That's true," Snufkin said, with a wistful little nod.

Moomintroll brightened. "Does that mean you'll come stay with us in Moominhouse tonight?"

Snufkin hummed thoughtfully, his gaze still fixed on the broiling clouds sweeping towards them. "No," he decided. "Not this time."

"But-!"

Snufkin's eyes were warm as they flicked over at him. "Maybe next time. You can help me pack up my camp, though, if that would make you happy."

"Alright," Moomin agreed, even though it didn't, not really. "Where are you going?"

Seemingly almost without his permission, Snufkin's gaze drifted back towards the storm.

7. DCMK-gypsy AU

This is going to be a little present for the delightful @rainyfox3, once I get my act together to write it. ^_^; She asked for an AU where Kaito was part of a nomadic group (similar to the Romani), and Shinichi was thoroughly not prepared for that.

Warm, callused hands wrapped around his wrists, startling Shinichi into looking up. Bright, mischievous blue eyes stared back at him. It was the boy with the ringing laugh. “Come on!” he grinned. “What a- ack!” Shinichi's words dissolved into a yelp as he was dragged bodily out of the crowd and into the centre of the square. “Dance with me!” the boy commanded, and immediately pulled Shinichi into a spin. “Wait, no, I don't-” Shinichi tried, but the boy's grip was firm, and he seemed in no mood to listen to protests. In the midst of the whirling scenery, Shinichi saw the other travellers tugging more people into the dance as the crowd of onlookers grew. He mentally shrugged. Getting out of this situation was likely to be more trouble and attention than it was worth. The reel the fiddlers were playing was familiar, at least, and the boy was a good enough leader that Shinichi's rusty dance lessons weren't all that difficult to recall.

Ask me about a WIP!

#wip meme #working on it #My fic #dcmk #ask game

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themerriweathermage · 1 year

Text

The Council of Nost Bronadui

Chapter One: Gideon's

Gideon’s. I had to admit that Lydia had certainly worked magic to get the area cleaned up. Instead of using the old airplane hangar as a nomad depot, it was now slated to be an actual town, rail station and everything. She was there now, with me, as I prepared the council for Quinn. They would be arriving by rail mid-day, provided that everything ran smoothly, and I couldn’t help but to recall a conversation I’d had with Waldo just before leaving the Lodge.

“You’re sure you won’t come?” I asked, throwing him a questioning glance. Waldo snorted, noting my gaze. There was a bandage wrapped around his palm, no doubt hiding a cut made by the blade of a sword. An oath, the baron’s oath, to be specific. “Your company will be sorely missed.”

“With Quinn there?” Waldo asked. “I think I’ll take my chances out here and guard the Fort. Someone needs to.”

“It’d be the duty of a good baron to look after his people.” I murmured.

“It would be.” Waldo replied. “You’ll simply have to forgive me if I take liberties in the Armadillo’s absence.”

“You’re forgiven.” Baron . The word lay unspoken between us, but even I knew the implications. Quinn out working in the fields because most of his cog force had fled to seek refuge in other baronies? A skeleton crew of house cogs that ran the Fort that Quinn refused to occupy? And now this-- Waldo taking the oath of baron so that he could legitimately command the Clipper force that vehemently refused to obey or even listen to Quinn? Quinn’s days as the baron were numbered. The days of the uprising he was so afraid of me or Nix starting were over; now came the time for him to truly reap the discourse he had sown.

“See you around, kid.”

“Take care of yourself, Waldo.”

Even if Quinn refused my counsel, even if he threw all advice to the wind-- which I half expected him to regardless-- my counsel for the Armadillo territory would hardly go unheeded. A plan I presented to Quinn for the fate of his opium production could so easily be modified to push the opium poppy out of production and fill another need. Particularly with a baron who would be more willing to listen. But that thought I shoved away for now. We would cross that bridge when we came to it.

“Pensive look.” Lydia murmured, catching me zoned out over the paperwork that I’d sprawled out over the table of the tavern’s great hall. I looked up, offering her the ghost of a smile. “You were far away.”

“Thinking about the future.” She raised an eyebrow slightly in my direction.

“Not something I hear from you often.” Well, that was fair.

“Okay, thinking about how damn bull-headed your ex-husband is.”

“You think this won’t go in your favor.” Lydia started. “Though I strongly dislike it, his behavior does indicate he has a soft spot for you. The Quinn I once knew would have never conceded to taking counsel from another baron.” I granted her a dry chuckle. “I’m being serious!”

“I’m not discrediting it.” I replied. “Except that that soft spot may have been gained illicitly.” Lydia shook her head, helping me pin down the edge of the paper. She had more to say that she wasn’t saying, I noticed, but decided not to pursue it. There were bigger matters at hand here, and I couldn’t afford to be more distracted than I already was.

The mountain passages made me uneasy, and I couldn’t quite place my fingers on why. I couldn’t help but think that the last time I’d been here, I’d been here with Nix. With Dominique. And that brought to mind last night’s conversation with Lydia.

The hour was late, and I couldn’t sleep. So I’d stayed at the bonfire in the middle of the town as the embers still burned into the night. It was quiet, almost too quiet, but Gideon’s didn’t yet have the same hum that the Estate did. One day perhaps, but not yet, and I tuned into the sound of the burning wood crackling in the fire to alleviate the deafening silence.

“It’s late.” Lydia murmured. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“The last time I was here, Dominique was here with me.” I replied softly, tugging my blanket tighter over my shoulders. Lydia’s sigh was quiet, and she took a seat next to me.

“You miss him.” Did I miss Dominique? I wondered, staring off into the fire.

“He was a friend.” I finally murmured. “An advisor. A business partner. His loss is felt as much as any loss is.”

“He called you some not so nice names, Bren.”

“Did he?” I didn’t have any memory of that. “How can it be any worse than what anyone in the Badlands has called me?”

“You said it yourself. You considered him a friend. An advisor. Friends don’t say such things, and even an advisor should have known to keep their tongue between their teeth on such a matter.” I leaned forward, soaking up the lingering warmth of the fire. It had been about Quinn, then. And yet here we were...

“Did he leave... or was he made to leave?” We hadn’t discussed it. It was just accepted that he was gone, and as Regent, Lydia stood in his position as well, to make sure that his loss hadn’t been felt so drastically on my part.

“He turned in his sword to Nix. Left of his own volition.” He had walked out on us then. I couldn’t blame him, considering how close the barony had courted war. Even now, I courted that danger, even with Quinn as weak as he was, both in barony and militant strength, and in physical stature. But I couldn’t just let people needlessly suffer either, even if that people was Quinn, and even if he’d hurt me before...

This time Lydia didn’t remark on the fact that I was far away. She only made sure that I had something to eat and drink. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I doubted I could stomach anything now, when our company was due to arrive any moment, and likely hungry themselves. I had spent most of the morning in the tavern kitchen, making sure that we would have enough to host them. What steps I took to prepare now were meant as counsel for Quinn.

There was some familiarity to being here, like back in the barony when Nix had found me in the office looking over the plans much like I was now.

“You have that look on your face.” I had apparently been too deep in my own thoughts to notice Nix in the doorway, watching me.

“What look?”

“The kind of look if you had been a foot taller and an elf, I might have mistaken you for Elrond.” I snorted.

“Yeah, at the Council? Sure.” I murmured, rolling my shoulders back. Her words had brought a smile to my lips. Even in the midst of something serious, she had a way of breaking the tension around me. “It’s not a bad idea, you know.”

“The Council of Elrond?”

“How about The Council of Nost Bronadui?” House Enduring. My House. My home in a world beyond this one. A home I’d built for wayfaring strangers and refugees, a home for those who needed it. A place with a chance for a better life. I needed no convincing that this council was the right path-- a chance, truly, to help those who needed it, Quinn, yes, but Quinn aside as well.

“It’s certainly a mouthful.”

“And I’ll have my hands full.” I replied.

“Listen, I--” Nix paused for a moment. “I want you to take Sunny with you.”

“Nix...”

“He’s well versed with Quinn if things were to go south.”

“You’re sending Meraxes. Is she not enough security?”

“You’re not walking in there unprepared either. Lydia has arranged for an escort of Clippers.”

“Lot of firepower for a peace summit.” I grumbled.

“Since when has Quinn ever gone down without a fight?” Nix asked. I frowned, hating that she had a point. Not that I thought that the council would end in violence, but unfortunately, Quinn was a loose cannon.

“I can talk to him. Just let me talk to him. When we’re alone...” She gave me a pointed look.

“If you’re going to say that he doesn’t act like an ass when the two of you are alone...” I quickly shut up then, and she raised an eyebrow in my direction. “And that tells me that you’ve had time alone with him since he’s betrayed you.”

“And look how much headway I’ve made.” I deflected.

“Bren.” I winced, hearing the exasperation in her voice. “For my peace of mind, take Sunny with you.” I knew when I’d been defeated and accepted my loss. “And Bren?” I looked up. “Be careful.”

“I will be. I promise.”

I stood there, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, ducking outside with the drink in hand, wolfing down a quick lunch out on the tavern steps. I could see Meraxes in the distance, following the rail from outside the mountain tunnels, knowing that they were close. I couldn’t afford to be nervous but I could still feel the cold chill of that nervousness creeping up my back, left shivering in its wake as the whine of the 611’s brakes began to echo in the tunnel.

“I’m here for you.”

“I know.” Lydia had moved to my side, no doubt brought by me rocking back and forth on my feet, trying to get rid of that unease creeping up on my back.

“If you need to utilize me as your Regent, I can handle Quinn.”

“Mm.” I gave her a very non-committal sound, faking a quick smile.

“I’ve been through your plans a dozen times,” She started, and I put a quick end to that.

“It’s not Quinn I’m worried about.”

“His people know you, Bren. They know what kind of person you are.”

“They don’t know everything.” I murmured lowly, and that seemed to stop her for a moment. It wasn’t them I was worried about; it was me. It was communicating and getting my point across. It was showcasing through words when I did better showcasing through actions.

“How can I help?”

“Book me a weekend out of the barony when this is all over?” I asked. “Somewhere I don’t have to socialize.”

“I can do that.” She replied, the both of us watching the 611 roll into the station, great plumes of steam still rolling off of her as her engineers brought her to a smooth stop.

Part of me was amused watching Sunny step out of the rail car, because behind him was Quinn, escorted by our Clippers, blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back. I didn’t imagine that he was an easy man to wrangle, and yet none of our soldiers seemed worse for wear. He must have complied then. Sunny came to us, bearing Quinn’s sword in his hands, presenting it almost.

“I don’t imagine he was happy to part with that.” Lydia remarked.

“Even less happy to see me taking it from him.” Sunny replied.

“You seem to have survived.” Sunny’s eyes flicked to me.

“I can’t imagine that he would have complied without an incentive.”

“Are you implying that I bribed a fellow baron? To not be volatile? Do you really think he’d listen to me?” Sunny gave me a pointed look, and all traces of nicety dropped from my face as I glared right on back. “I made an oath to my barony. I won’t break it again.”

That concluded that conversation with Sunny real quick, and he kept the sword with him as he instructed his soldiers to unbind Quinn. As more of Quinn’s staff filtered off the train, Lydia pulled me aside for a minute.

“You didn’t bribe him?” It wasn’t really a question of me, but more a question of Quinn.

“I told him that his reputation was in a shithole and that he was dragging his barony down with him.”

“Oh?” Lydia raised an eyebrow. “I don’t imagine that went well.”

“He called me an ass, and pardon my French, but who the fuck does he think I learned it from?” I muttered. “If he wants my good graces, he’ll have to earn them.”

“Or he’ll play you.”

“He can try.” I retorted.

He wasn’t being very pleasant at the moment, damn near snarling at Sunny when the blindfold was finally removed.

“Hey!” My voice carried across the station, across the whoosh of steam and the chatter of the crew and passengers. In that beat of silence, the ground beneath us trembled with Meraxes landing near the western mountain tunnel, her roar echoing across the valley. Quinn snapped his head in my direction, eyes on Meraxes first, no doubt remembering her power, and then me.

“We do not act uncivil here! If you cannot be nice, or in the least polite, then you will be escorted back to your barony.” Quinn glowered but said nothing in return, folding his arms across his chest as soon as his hands were untied. I knew damn well what he was doing, whether he knew what he was doing or not. He was trying to make himself look intimidating, like he hadn’t just been the man scolded by a fellow baron. His staff hardly looked impressed and I definitely knew our nomads weren’t. Despite how civil they acted, I wouldn’t want to run up against them in the wilds either. Quinn was only one man. The nomads here would tear him apart if he threatened their baron, and therefore their security.

Our afternoon was spent getting Quinn and his people lunch and settled into accommodations, the rustic log cabins at least providing some manner of comfort. Lydia handled most of it, although I doubted Quinn heard a word she was saying, his eyes rather firmly locked on me the entire time. When he finally did approach me, Lydia abandoned everything else to remain at my side.

Quinn stopped short, his eyes flickering over her and her position in front of me.

“I would like to speak to your baron.”

“Then speak.” Lydia replied curtly.

“Alone.” Quinn added.

“Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my Regent.” I added. Quinn glanced over her shoulder to me, his eyebrow raised slightly, as if to ask me, are you sure? Oh, I had no doubt of the pretty compliments he could have told me to sway my favor to his side, but there was a crowd intrigued by the stand off between him and Lydia and one of those people included Sunny, with his hand already at his blade, and Quinn seemed to take recognition of his surroundings and wise up.

He gave me a look before turning on his heel and retreating back to the likely safety of his cabin and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“He is as charming as always.” A voice sounded dryly from behind me and Lydia whipped around.

“Sebastian.”

“Regent.” I turned to see the famed Sebastian, a man no older than Sunny, with striking red hair and the makings of a good beard to match. “Baron.”

“Bren.” I corrected quietly. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the matter. “So you are the famed Sebastian. Lydia speaks highly of you.”

“I’m honored. I took the liberty of picking up a ride into Gideon’s. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Any friend of Lydia’s is a friend of mine.” He smiled then, giving me a curt nod.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Baron Quinn was trying to get into your good graces.” Sebastian murmured.

“Well, he will have to earn them.” Sebastian chuckled.

“He is not a man of words.”

“His actions will tell me what I want to know.” I replied. Sebastian threw me a curious look.

“You are testing him. He may not react so fondly to being played.”

“This is no game.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m not playing when people’s lives are on the line. My duty as a baron extends beyond my barony lines. His people are suffering and I am giving him a chance to see what life under a fair baron will look like. His reactions will speak louder than his words.”

“Hm. I suppose they will.” Sebastian took his leave then, heading over to catch up with Sunny, it looked like.

“Still takes his duty seriously, I see.” I murmured, looking at Lydia. “Even though he is no longer bound to it.”

“He is still a soldier through and through.” Lydia replied.

“What’s your assessment of him?” I asked.

“He’s quite adept with a variety of blades. He may not be carrying an obvious one but I wouldn’t quite say he’s unarmed. He always took his duty very seriously while employed under Quinn.”

“And now that he’s not employed under Quinn?”

“He follows a nomadic lifestyle but that’s hardly by choice. As you can imagine, the life of a Clipper paid well and provided for other means.”

“Would he not see himself employed under me?” Lydia shrugged.

“It was to my understanding that he had discourse with Sunny but Quinn didn’t want to waste a man of his talents and so he was assigned as my guard. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve stepped into the role as my advisor when Dominique left so that absence wouldn’t be felt, but I wouldn’t have you wear that burden for forever.” I noticed her studying me out of the corner of my eye.

“It is not a burden to serve as your advisor, Bren, but if you wish for someone else to have that role, it’s certainly your prerogative. Do you want me to ask him?”

“No, not yet. I don’t know him well enough for that. Find out if that discourse between him and Sunny was legitimate. Somehow I doubt it was,” She followed my gaze to where the two of them seemed to be talking amicably. “And invite him to the Estate if it’s not.”

“So,” Lydia started, finding a moment alone in the evening with Sebastian. But even he knew it was a loaded ‘so’, raising his eyebrow in her direction.

“So?” He countered.

“What do you think of Bren?” Sebastian gave her a wry smile.

“I take it the pleasantries were a mask?” Lydia blinked.

“I doubt Bren’s that kind of person. I’m just asking.”

“Just asking as his Regent?” Sebastian asked. “Or just asking,”

“As a friend.” Lydia finished. “As a friend, what’s your opinion of Bren?” Sebastian narrowed his eyes for a moment, folding his arms over his chest and glancing in Bren’s direction. He was rather currently occupied with some of Quinn’s House Cogs, and seemingly enjoying the conversation.

“He’s polite. Very courteous. Perhaps genteel even. But I get the feeling that he has a side that he doesn’t often show other people.” Sebastian started. “I see no difference in him as a baron than I did when he was beneath Quinn’s protection, which leads me to believe that his behavior is genuine.” Sebastian dragged his attention back to Lydia. “Why do you ask? And don’t say--”

“That I’m curious?”

Sebastian let out a laugh, giving Lydia a wry look. “I stood as your guard for years. Watched you train under Waldo and learn how to weather the role of Baroness at Quinn’s side. You do not ask idle questions. I just can’t suss out whether you ask such things because your baron has asked you to, as his Regent, or if you just lack faith in him.”

“My loyalty is to my Baron and Baroness.” Sebastian heaved a dry chuckle.

“Regent through and through, I see. They certainly weren’t fools to put you in that position.”

“What’s your opinion on this council then?” Lydia asked, ignoring his wry comment.

“I had assumed you asked me to come because you wanted extra security but I see that’s hardly needed. Even without the extra firepower,” Sebastian eyed Meraxes still sitting by the western tunnels, “Literally, I doubt there’s a nomad here that wouldn’t step to defend their baron should Quinn get hasty. Truthfully, I’m surprised he complied with Sunny disarming him.”

“Sunny thought that as well. Thought Bren may have bribed him.” Sebastian made a soft sort of amused sound.

“Quinn is a hard man to bribe. But,” He shook his head slightly.

“But?”

“He acts in a way that is different for Bren.”

“He tells me that sometimes.” Lydia remarked softly. “That no one sees Quinn the way he does.”

“And do you see it too?”

“No.” Lydia replied flatly. “Quinn had something good and he ruined it. As he always does.”

“And would the Quinn you know concede to ask for help from another baron?” Sebastian asked.

“I won’t deny that his behavior is... different, odd even. But do I think he’s changed? I’m fairly sure that his first attempt at contact with Bren here was a ploy to seduce Bren, but he wouldn’t do that with an audience.”

“Or he still has a shred of respect for you.”

“Doubtful. Considering that he all but signed me away like a piece of property to bartered and traded at his will.” Sebastian shook his head. “So, I’ll ask again. What’s your opinion on the council?”

“It’s noble.” He glanced down at Lydia. “Your baron has a kind heart. But I do not know that I would help Quinn after his transgressions. Against me or not.”

“Bren knows the Armadillo Territory is suffering.”

“And it will continue to suffer so long as the current baron still stands. That is what I do not think your baron knows.”

“I think Bren’s aware of it, yes. I think this is Quinn’s last chance to prove himself.”

“And if he doesn’t? What will your baron do then?” Sebastian studied Lydia for a good minute, watching her expression. “I doubt he’ll risk war despite how close he courts it.”

“There are other ways to dethrone Quinn.”

“Oh? And I suppose you stake some personal interest in the barony, do you?”

“You’re asking if I’ll be Baroness?” Lydia arched an eyebrow sharply. “No. I stated before that my loyalty is spoken for. But there are other opportunists in the barracks of the Armadillo Territory.” Sebastian smirked then, knowingly.

“So Waldo is planning a coup. Is there a real point, then, to this council, or is your baron providing himself a distraction for Quinn?”

“I don’t think he’s working in lieu with Waldo, no. I believe his intention is genuine. He wants to see if Quinn will listen and change. But I do think he’s aware that Waldo is working behind the scenes while Quinn is otherwise occupied, yes.”

“Anytime I think that your dear baron won’t play the game of the Badlands, he manages to surprise me.” Sebastian commented dryly. “So he actually is as coy as Quinn has touted him to be.” Lydia blinked.

“Where on Earth did you hear that?”

“Something Quinn was saying in the barracks ages ago. Why?”

“Oh, gods. Trust me when I tell you that Quinn wasn’t using that term in a political sense.” Sebastian threw her a questioning glance.

“You’re really going to tell me that Declan wasn’t lying when he said he caught,” Sebastian cut his eyes to Bren, “With,” He darted his attention to the side where Quinn was blissfully ignorant of most conversations around him. “That happened?”

“Unfortunately.” Lydia muttered. Sebastian stared at her for a solid minute.

“I’d say that your baron is occupying Quinn’s attention. And has been since Quinn got off that train. Whether he’s in Quinn’s company or not. What will Bren do, if Waldo starts a coup? Knowing damn well what outcome will come of it?”

“I don’t think Waldo will kill Quinn.”

“He has to.”

“Exile is an option.”

“That man is a bull. He won’t go down without a fight.”

“I understand that. But if Waldo wanted to kill Quinn, he would have done it already. He already has the Clippers. What’s left for Quinn to command to stand against him?” Sebastian grunted.

“I see Waldo did the thing that he warns everyone not to do.” Lydia looked up at him. “He got his heart involved.” Lydia didn’t make it verbal but she did agree with him. Waldo was showing an uncharacteristic softness for Bren. If it was to the point where he wouldn’t kill Quinn, Lydia still wasn’t certain. If anything that would probably depend on Quinn.

“I saw you having a talk with Sunny earlier. Still taking your duty seriously, I see.” Sebastian gave her a soft sort of smile.

“Just catching up with him.”

“Quinn always insinuated you had some sort of discourse with him, so it’s nice to see you getting along.” Sebastian chuckled.

“Talking never was Quinn’s strong suit. Sure, there was discourse, at one point maybe. I wanted Regent, for a while. And then I saw what Quinn demanded of Sunny and thought, ‘I’ll never want to step in a Regent’s boots ever again.’ Surprises me that you took that position in all honesty.”

“I have more freedom as Regent than I ever did as Quinn’s Baroness.” Lydia murmured. “And Nix and Bren do not require that I manage their military. There are more capable hands than mine and I willingly relinquish that control to someone else.”

“So,” Sebastian started, spinning the conversation back onto Lydia. “Why the sudden interest in me?”

“Bren would like to see you at the Estate.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No. But I’m not at liberty to discuss more than an invitation.” Lydia replied. “Perhaps when this is over, you should drop by.”

“I won’t say no to a good meal.”

“I will make a note of that.” Sebastian watched Bren for a moment longer, his look lingering as he tried to make heads or tails of Bren’s decision to invite Quinn and the people who remained in the heart of the Fort here. Perhaps there was real love for Quinn there if they’d truly been involved before, or perhaps it was nothing more than the game of the Badlands.

I couldn’t sleep. Not that that was anything new to me. It was just that long after everyone else had gone to sleep after the day’s activities, I was still awake, staring at the ceiling of my cabin and wishing that my anxiety would calm the hell down. I moved around the cabin quietly, trying not to wake up Lydia on my way out, scaling to the top of the tavern and trying to clear my head in the chill of the night air.

Being in the valley of the mountains alleviated some of the sticky summer heat. There was always a cool breeze rushing through the mountain tunnels. A few of the nomads had turned the old airplane hangar into a trading post, manned by some of their own, and they knew that as soon as the summit was over, that they could claim the small village that had been built. I had had the choice to use an illusion, to cast a charm and alter the terrain to my viewpoint but it probably would have been just as taxing as building the village in its entirety and with nothing left to show for it. At least this way, it would benefit someone after we were done.

But apparently my night escapades were not entirely unnoticed.

“Still keeping your late hours?” For a moment, I wished it wasn’t Quinn down there, at the tavern steps, looking up at me.

“Old habits die hard, I suppose.” I gave him a rather nondescript answer, hoping that he wouldn’t prolong this.

“I want to talk to you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sebastian standing guard at Sunny’s cabin, taking the night watch.

“Then talk.” I replied. He gave me a pointed, and irritated, look.

“Perhaps alone?” He asked, being blunt about it now, like he thought I hadn’t gotten that point when he approached in the night hours.

“Decidedly not.” I didn’t move. His expression soured.

“You don’t trust me.” Trust him? I trusted that he would try to seduce me the moment he got me alone, for sure, if I didn’t have control of the situation. And here? Now? I barely trusted myself not to give in to such a temptation. So I just shrugged down at him.

“I’ve barely slept in the last few days. If you have something to say, say it. I don’t have the time or fortitude for games.” Something in his cold expression faltered, concern flicking across his face-- furrowed brows and a frown.

“I--” And then it was quiet. When I looked down again, he was gone. I leaned back on the roof, sighing quietly and closing my eyes. But the moment of peace didn’t last long when something heavy landed on my chest, and I glanced over to see Quinn actually retreating back into his cabin. Perhaps it was because Sebastian had made it a point to sharpen his blade against a whetstone, looking very pointedly in that direction. I looked down, shaking my head in disbelief. Turns out that heavy item was Quinn’s quilt, and he apparently thrown it up onto the roof with me. You stubborn, stubborn man.

And it turned out that I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep, wandering about the trading post in the early morning hours. If I wasn’t mistaken, that was the head of Quinn’s household browsing the wares, almost dejectedly. One of the nomad traders perked up at the sight of me, as I made my way down off the roof.

“Baron Bren.” Ah, I’d been outed. I watched the woman’s head snap around, a profuse apology already tumbling from her lips, but I waved her off.

“It’s Mari, right?” I asked. She nodded, and internally I was relieved. She’d probably attended to my quarters the half a dozen times I’d stolen away to the Fort to see Quinn. It would be negligence on my part if I didn’t know her at this point.

“You shouldn’t have to content yourself to shopping in the same space as a Cog...” She started.

“There is no rank here.” I murmured. “And even if there was, it wouldn’t matter. I’m Bren.”

There was a pause, a beat of silence, and then, “You couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

“It never comes as easy as I would prefer it to.” I replied carefully.

“Because of Quinn?” She asked the burning question that was on everyone’s mind. Even the trader looked to me sharply. They knew, of course, they knew he was here; I doubt anyone could have missed him. But I also knew that by providing for the nomads of our barony, that I had their loyalty. Despite how civil they acted, I wouldn’t want to run up against them in the wilds either. Quinn was only one man. The nomads here would tear him apart if he threatened their baron, and therefore their security.

I shrugged. “Between the duties of being baron, and the fact that I’m a night owl, it just never happens the way I want it to. I envy men like Quinn who can fall asleep on the drop of a dime.”

“I’d say men like Quinn don’t have the same conscience that keeps them up at night either.” Mari replied. I gave her a wry smile, amused. “I’ve never seen the duty of the barony keep Quinn awake, not even in war. You, however...” Her sentence trailed off, lingering. “But I suppose you don’t want to dwell on bygones.” Part of me wondered what she meant by that; the other part knew that it was just best not to question.

She must have noticed the lull in conversation. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this far out of the barony before. Our primary duty is to serve and so it’s rare that we get a chance to go places that aren’t the Fort or the comfort of our own homes.”

“Duty.” I wrinkled my nose. “The only people who have duties in this barony are me and my sister. My people are not Cogs or Clippers; they are my staff and my civilians. There is no particular rank or class in House Enduring. My staff are paid and my civilians will be provided for so long as I take breath in these Badlands.”

“You two are so different.” Mari murmured. “Do you think you can change his mind? Sway him to your point of view?” Did I actually think I could persuade Quinn to see things the way I did? No.

“I think it’s doubtful.” I replied honestly.

“Then why show him at all?”

“Because it is the right thing to do. Because you don’t deserve to suffer in the wake of what Quinn’s done. His sins are his own.” I knew the topic was becoming uncomfortable when I realized that my arm was crossed over my chest, fingers tracing the edge of the scar beneath my shirt. The whole reason that I had come out here was to get away from the topic of Quinn. Mari’s eyes flicked over my shoulder for a moment.

“How long has the trading post been here?” Sunny. Sebastian must have woken him up when I wasn’t looking.

“A couple of months, give or take. It’s a nice place to settle.”

“Be even nicer when we leave, right?” I winked at the trader and he chuckled, the tension broken.

“I question your company, all things considered, but I’ve seen men do deals with worse. I assume that’s why you made your way to the mountain pass. You have a less chance of being seen in the company of a baron who’s betrayed you.”

“Against all our concerns.” Sunny muttered. I nearly reached out and smacked his arm but caught myself before I did.

“His people don’t deserve to suffer for their baron’s sins.” I replied.

“How long did you practice that line?” Sunny asked. His face never changed so I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and I had to will myself not to react.

“Goodnight, Captain.” I murmured lowly, trying to hide the irritation. He looked at me for a minute, considering whether to stay or not, and then took a step back.

“Goodnight, Baron.” I wrinkled my nose at his retreat. The title wasn’t necessary and it revealed that I’d conveyed exactly what I intended, and that Sunny was being... spiteful. I wished that he could have stayed home with Nix, but she had been insistent on the extra security.

I made my way over to the porch of the tavern, sitting down on the steps to take a breath. Quinn wasn’t even the exhausting part anymore. For all he could spit about being the baron and being in authority, he had complied with my requests for the council. He put on a polite face at most times if nothing else, but maybe he was just as tired as I was. It was everything else around me; it was the underlying hostility, the dismissive attitudes-- whether towards him or me-- that rubbed me wrong.

“It bothers you.” Mari had followed me, I see. “Quinn would have clipped him by now, for the backsass alone.”

“I’m not Quinn.” I replied lowly.

“No. I suppose not. I can see why so many of our workers fled into your barony following the disaster in the poppy fields.”

“And you?” I asked. “Why didn’t you follow? You and your kin, your fellow staff, you owe him no loyalty.”

“There are worse baronies to work for.”

“There are also better baronies to work for.” I murmured.

“I suppose that’s true.” Mari replied. “But the Fort is all I’ve ever known, and my loyalty has made me particularly valuable to its baron.” She gave me a wry smile. It didn’t slip my notice that she wasn’t referring to Quinn by name in that statement.

“You must think this summit is a fool’s errand then.”

“Not in the slightest. I trust that you’ll lay down some plan for Quinn to follow, that he’ll no doubt disregard. I’m sure it would be useful in the right hands.”

In Waldo’s hands, was the unspoken between us. Somehow that thought wasn’t putting my anxiety anymore at ease.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked, heading up the steps for the tavern.

“I don’t really...”

“A hot chocolate then.”

“In this weather?” Mari asked, incredulous.

“There’s never a bad time for a hot chocolate.” I replied.

“That sounds wonderful.” She murmured, and I disappeared for a moment to see about those drinks. Mine, of course, I had spiked with rum, since it seemed I wasn’t getting any sleep the way I wanted it anytime soon.

We shared drinks on the steps of the tavern, quiet and in our own worlds.

“Thank you for doing this. It’s nice to be included... and to be out of the barony.”

“It’s the least I can do to thank you for all the times you’ve taken care of me while I’ve stayed at the Fort.” She laughed then, some of the unfamiliarity fading away.

“I doubt Quinn would have settled for anything but you are quite welcome. You make a very hospitable house guest.” Her expression turned wistful. “I wish I could have brought my boy.”

“You have a son?” I asked. “What’s his name?”

“David.” The corners of my mouth twitched up in a smile.

“Your beloved.” She gave me a look.

“Quinn mocks the old faiths.”

“The only god Quinn believes in is himself.” I replied. “I was raised in that old faith.”

“Is it true? Any of it?” Mari asked.

“I do not claim to know. I turned my back on that faith a long time ago.” I murmured. “And I wish you could have brought your son too.”

“Most barons would say that children are to be seen and not heard.”

“Children are to be children.” I shook my head. “Perhaps one day, you can bring your son to the Estate. I’m sure there are children his age who would love to make a new friend.” She smiled softly, finishing her drink.

“You have a good heart, Baron Bren.” She touched my shoulder lightly as she left me to finish my drink. Most of the market was quiet by now, and I knew I should be trying to get some sleep myself, heading back to the cabin.

#The Council of Nost Bronadui #Welcome to the Badlands #Welcome to the Badlands Series #Sunny X OFC #Quinn X OMC

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