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spiralcass · 7 months

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NEW X-MEN: THE ANIMATED SERIES - SEASON 3, EPISODE 2 (PART 2 OF 2)

We open once again on Okkara, thousands of years ago. This time, we are even further in the past. There are no demons and no battles raging. With a shining sun and a clear blue sky above, Okkara is a flourishing island paradise. Its Mutant population is happy and at peace.

The man known as En Sabah Nur, dressed not in armor, but in loose-fitting robes, sits on a rock, strumming a stringed instrument, a calm smile on his face. A small captivated crowd listens.

Nur's attention is turned away from his music as someone calls for him.

"Father! Father!"

Apocalypse grins as a little girl made of flames runs up to him with excitement. He picks her up and asks what's brought her such joy.

ORIGINAL WAR: "Death and I fought! And I won!"

APOCALYPSE, an amused father: "Ah, I see. No wonder you are proud. Defeating Death is no small feat. Even if he is your baby brother."

War continues to be smug over her victory as Nur holds her tight.

NUR: "Stay strong, my daughter. But remember, to fight is not your future. You are the war which will never come again."

In the present, Apocalypse and War stand in their laboratory. A scientist reports to them that everything finally seems operational. On his mark, they can deploy the X-Virus.

A different scientist speaks up.

SCIENTIST: "Please, Lord Apocalypse! Don't do this! We can weaponize the virus on a smaller scale. If you'd just think of the–"

The scientist is cut off as his throat is sliced open, blood gushing out. He falls over, dead.

Apocalypse puts an arm around War's shoulders.

APOCALYPSE: "Proceed…and end this fight."

At the Jean Grey School, Mercury and Bling! have been sent on a drug trip. Cessily is dazed as she hallucinates her body expanding and twisting in every which way as the world expands and twists around her. Bling! meanwhile gets shinier and shinier. It’d blinding. It gets more pleasant for them as bubbles start forming on Mercury’s skin and she pops them to tickle herself, while Roxy tosses on some sunglasses and revels in how cool she looks.

CESSILY, giggly: “This is so weird. Have you ever done something like this before?”

ROXY: “You asking that because of who my parents are?”

CESSILY: “What? No, I–”

Roxy bursts out in hysteric laughter.

The Cuckoos are also on this trip, laughing as they hallucinate. They’re continuously merging with and unmerging from each other.

CUCKOOS: “They’re so gonna thank us.”

In the mission room, we pick up directly where we left off last time. Cyclops, Kitty, Iceman, and Wolverine desire to go and stop Apocalypse, but Magneto and Emma believe they should allow his plans to play out, and Hellion and Surge think they may be right. In the face of Archangel’s murder, Iceman is enraged and has put Magneto’s neck at icicle point.

ICEMAN: “I don’t care if you won’t help, but you aren’t getting in my way!”

Without moving or flinching, Erik disintegrates Bobby’s stretched-out arm.

MAGNETO: “The loss of Archangel is painful. For myself, the loss of the Morlocks even more so. Children died in those sewers. Do you know where else children died? By the millions? Genosha. This is the only way the pain ends.”

SCOTT: “Emma, please. You’re better than this.”

EMMA, insulted: “Do you really think speaking down to me will change my mind? Humanity’s leaders have brought nothing but suffering to all but the very worst of their entire population. Gently guiding them into the night as we take our rightful steps into the future and preventing decades more of suffering for them is practically a mercy.”

MAGNETO: “Why is this such a difficult pill for you to swallow, Cyclops? You have killed before. You will kill again. All in the name of protecting your people. And in the long term, you will save far more billions than those who die here.”

KITTY: “Can we stop talking like these are numbers on a spreadsheet and not living, breathing people?! Living, breathing people with family and friends!”

NORIKO: “Humans, Ms. Pryde. You’re talking about humans.”

JULIAN: “Humans who wouldn’t hesitate to kill us all if the positions were flipped.”

LAURA, aghast: “What the Hell is the matter with you two?!”

Nori angrily explains why she has no shits left to give about humans. Her family abandoned her, groups like the Purifiers and U-Men keep forming to try and kill them, and even if a new one hasn’t popped up lately, she knows they weren’t the first, even if they were, Stryker and all of his followers, and all the engineers who agreed to work for him were why Nova was able to kill 16 million of them, they do SHIELD’s dirty work fighting their own people for them, but SHIELD never seems to help THEM, Cyclops, for all his hard work, has barely made any dent in improving public opinion of Mutants…

Julian takes over.

JULIAN: “They took my damn hands, my family, hell, half the families of the kids here abandoned us, and the X-Men couldn’t even do the one thing they were supposed to do for us: keeping us safe.” He glares right at Scott. “With how many times you failed Sofia, it’s no wonder she turned on us.”

Bobby shouts at the kids that this is NOT the time for a temper tantrum, but Scott silences him.

SCOTT: “Everything you just said is true. And I’m sorry for where I’ve failed, and the hands you’ve been dealt.” He turns to Emma and Magneto. “But I’m not ready to give up.”

In Apocalypse’s lair, engines pound, and lights flash. Apocalypse’s lead scientist informs him and War of the good news: the X-Virus has been released. Before long, his goals will be fulfilled.

Apocalypse laughs in triumph.

APOCALYPSE: “Thousands of years of pain…will finally come to an end.”

War hooks her arms around one of Apocalypse’s and congratulates her lord. New Okkara will be the greatest civilization the world has ever known. Apocalypse rests a hand on her head. He could not have reached this point without her.

Just then, all of the scientists started coughing, as their bodies undergo a series of rapid, horrific Mutations. By the end, they are nothing but beige splatters on the floor.

Exodus enters, cackling at the irony.

EXODUS: “Shall I summon Death and Pestilence to join us in our hour of glory?”

APOCALYPSE: “No. They are needed in their current positions.”

EXODUS: “And if the X-Men don’t arrive willing to simply enter your open arms?”

WAR: “Has all that hair gel gone to your brain? These are hardly the X-Men who bested you both in the past. The three of us will more than suffice to crush them.” While Exodus bristles, War raises clenches her fist. “One way or another, I will make them see the light.”

Back in Cessily and Roxy’s room, the girlfriends have started making out one on the best, while the Cuckoos are spead across the floor, each in a daze, fiddling with one of Roxy’s instruments.

IRMA, plucking a violin with her fingertips: “Hey…can I ask you all something?”

PHOEBE, banging a drum stick against a bongo: “Since when can you not?”

IRMA: “I know…I know…but, I was thinking…what if I changed my name?”

The other Cuckoos weakly laugh.

SOPHIE, fidgeting with the buttons on a trumpet: “What?”

ESME, ripping the strings off a guitar: “TO what is more like it.”

IRMA: “I don’t know. I was just thinking about it.”

SOPHIE: “I guess it’s okay as long as it starts with an “I”.”

Cessily pulls away from Roxy and falls off the bed, partially liquifying on impact.

CESSILY, as she struggles to put herself back together: “I…hate you all. And I’m going to regret asking. But why do you…”

Cessily trails off as she passes out mid-sentece.

CELESTE: “She’ll be fine.”

ROXY: “Cool, cool…so explain?”

The Cuckoos giggle.

SOPHIE: “We chose our own names. Sophie, Irma, Phoebe, Celeste, Esme.”

CUCKOOS: “SPICE!”

SOPHIE: “As in “Spice Girls”.”

Roxy burts out laughing at that. The Cuckoos’ expressions range from insulted to hurt, until Roxy clarifies why she’s laughing. Their taste in music for their routines may suck, but she can respect that kind of crazy passion.

The Cuckoos’ faces light up at the first positive response they’ve managed to get from Roxy.

Just then, Sooraya knocks on the door. She wants to make sure her friends are okay, as something horrible seems to be going on around the world.

The Cuckoos cackle as they open the door telekinetically, accidentally slamming it, and tell Sooraya to come join them. Sooraya is instantly distracted from her previous concern, as now she’s just wondering what in the name of Allah is going on here.

ROXY: “Gonna be honest…still not entirely sure. You don’t have to do anything, girl. I know drugs are challah or something. Just take a seat and soak in the moment.”

Cessily, as a puddle, woken up and squirmed over to Sooraya’s feet. Her face is in the puddle.

CESSILY: “Hi.”

Sooraya seethes before shutting the door behind her. She’s only staying to make sure these irresponsible heethens don’t die. The other girls all cheer.

In the mission room, the argument has devolved into a shouting fest, Scott and Bobby screaming back and forth incomprehensibly with Emma and Erik, while Laura does the same with Julian and Noriko.

The only one not screaming? The team’s designated mediator, Kitty Pryde, who’s watching everyone else and taking in the situation. As the wheels turn in her brain, she picks up her phone and takes note of the crisis going on around the world, as thousands of people drop dead.

Kitty cringes, eyes shut, before opening them, full of determination. She has a plan.

While everyone else is fighting, Kitty sends a text message. While they don’t go to check their phones, we hear the buzz going off in Wolverine and Iceman’s. Kitty then rushes Surge and Hellion and phases all three of them through the floor.

Julian and Noriko are pissed, and question what Ms. Pryde is doing. And after everything she’s seen, why isn’t she on their side?!

KITTY: “Shush! Oh my god, be quiet.”

JULIAN: “You can’t shush us!”

KITTY: “You must be getting too big for your britches if you’re forgetting you’re still students and I’m still your teacher. Yes, I can shush you. And you’re going to listen to me.”

NORI: “But Ms. Pryde–”

Kitty shoots her down with a stare.

With the kids reluctantly quiet, Kitty takes a breath.

KITTY: “Listen, I…you know, I…”

As Kitty struggles to find the right words, Julian and Noriko glare at her with skepticism and disinterest. A vein bulges in her forehead as her emotions overwhelm her. But she has to keep going.

KITTY: “You’re not wrong.” The kids are visibly surprised by those words. “You’re not wrong at all. About what you’ve been forced to deal with. About how you’ve been forced to live. You two have been dealt more shit than anyone should ever have to face, and you can’t even so much as look at your own hands without remembering that. I get it! Letting someone else do the dirty work of wiping away all the nasty people who’ve hurt you, and then take out whatever evil Mutants are left? Get the happy ending just like that? I get what why you want that. But, in spite of everything, everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve faced, all the people I’ve lost…” KItty trails off as she laughs. “All the bullcrap I’ve had to deal with from my own teachers and teammates. Do you know why I still dream?”

NORI, disregarding her: “Because you’re just naturally that perfectly good?”

Kitty cackles.

KITTY: “Hell no! The stories I could tell you kids. I won’t, because trauma, but I could.” They don’t laugh like she’d hoped. “Anyway...what kept me going were the people I loved. And I don’t just mean Mutants. And I’m not going to say I’m talking about “humans” or “Flatscans” like you two have gotten so fond of calling baselines. It’s one gene of difference! We’re all still human!”

JULIAN, disregarding her: “You think “baselines” are worth keeping around just because a few of them aren’t the worst?”

KITTY: “It’s a lot more than a few. I promise. My parents never had anything but love for me. And I have so, so many friends who I know would do anything to help us if they could. You’re heroes. Superheroes. Do you really want to just let countless innocent people die?” With Julian and Noriko still not being reached, Kitty realizes she has to go deeper - more personal. “My dad is already dead. Killed alongside the Mutants of Genosha he considered his community. But you know who’s still alive? Sooraya’s mom, who Dust has been so, so happy to have back in her life.” Julian and Noriko hang their heads and cringe as they’re hit with this. “How about Roxy’s parents? Or Brian’s? Or all the other parents of kids here who still love them? Do you want to tell you “crew”, Julian, how you decided to let their parents die? You think they’ll understand? What about if people like Storm and Sofia don’t just get their powers back from this? Noriko…” Kitty hates herself for having to go this far. “...do you want Keitaro to die?”

Noriko and Julian scream in rage as they super-speed toward Kitty, but she simply phases through them before grabbing their collars and slamming them on the floor.

The kids start crying. They don’t WANT anyone to die. They don’t want anyone to get hurt. But nothing is getting better. Nothing is getting easier. They just keep losing more and more. They just keep losing people.

Kitty helps the two stand up. Like she said, she gets it. But this is why escalation isn’t the answer. Evil isn’t genetic. There are evil baselines and evil Mutants.

KITTY, to Julian: “Sure, baselines’ hate is what often provokes radical response. But we should be better, right?”

Julian bites his liip as his own philosophy is thrown in his face.

KITTY, to Noriko: “And most people? Most people are good. They all need to be protected. And we’re the only ones who can protect everyone, baseline and human.” Noriko’s eyes widen and light up and a switch clicks in her brain. “We’re all the same.”

There’s a quiet pause.

JULIAN, trying to still be bitter: “I…”

Nori hugs Kitty, apologizing for how she’s been thinking and acting. Kitty hugs her back and assures her she’s got nothing to apologize for. She was just scared and angry. She’s still a good kid. Still a hero.

KITTY: “You wanna get in on this?”

Iceman and Wolverine arrive, with Kitty glad they got her text, and thanking them for their good timing.

Julian brushes her off, but he does thank her for the wakeup call. Honestly.

KITTY: “Mission Room?”

ICEMAN: “Frozen solid.”

KITTY: “Good. Won’t hold Magneto and Emma, but we don’t want it too. Hellion and Surge are back on track. I need the four of you to head to Egypt NOW. Kids, you’re on Horseman detail. You aren’t beating them, but I just need to distract them for as long as you can. Iceman…”

ICEMAN: “I really hope you’re not about to tell me I’m fighting Apocolypse on my own.”

KITTY: “I mean, if anyone could.” Bobby is able to laugh a little. “But no. You can make copies of yourself. Hold Apocalypse back while your dupes disable his machines.”

HELLION: “This sounds like we’re being thrown to the wolves.”

KITTY: “Only if I can’t get our “leaders” to join us. I’ll work my magic on them too, and get them over to Egypt to help as quickly as possible.”

Everyone is aware this isn’t a great plan, but it’s the only one they’ve got. Just one problem: Magik’s not talking or getting out bed, their planes are fast, but can’t move instantaneously, and Nightcrawler can’t do long distance.

Nori laughs at their panic. Kitty and Iceman don’t actually KNOW what Pixie’s Mutation is, do they?

In Apocalypse's throne room, he sits on his chair, with Famine and War at his sides. While Apocalypse and Exodus track the plague's effects telepathically, War watches on her phone.

WAR: "I wonder what sorts of new weapons will be unlocked."

EXODUS: "Perhaps there will be an Omega with your weapon so we can replace you."

WAR: “Fine by me. I’m almost due for a promotion anyway.”

Apocalypse sighs.

WAR: “Is something wrong, my lord?”

APOCALYPSE: “No. Merely what we expected. The X-Men are coming. And they do not appear to be interested in joining us. Deal with them.”

EXODUS, sarcastic: “A shocking turn of events.” He smirks at War. “Are you sure you’re up to this? I can handle the battle myself if you think you might–”

APOCALYPSE, cutting him off: “Famine. Go.”

Exodus, frustrated shakes his head, before bowing and departing.

For the first time, War appears hesitant.

APOCALYPSE: “War…I know you wish to save them. But we can only help those Mutants who wish to be helped. If they fight, you may attempt to show mercy…but nothing can be allowed to stop us. Am I clear?”

War stands in place, frozen, as she looks down at her phone. Noticing her struggle, Apocalypse stands. He gently takes her phone from her and tosses it aside.

APOCALYPSE: “I did not expect this weakness from you.”

WAR, finally speaking up: “I am NOT weak!”

APOCALYPSE: “Of course you aren’t. You are among the strongest horsemen I’ve ever led. My blood runs through you. You did everything in your power to purge yourself of weakness. So why do you hesitate?”

War leans against Apocalypse’s chest.

WAR: “I only froze for a few seconds. You would have pause as well were it your family fighting against us.”

APOCALYPSE: “Oh, my child.” Apocalypse wraps an arm around War. “My family is your family.”

War shivers at those words. She quickly hugs him back before pulling away.

WAR, enthusiastically: “Should it come to it, I will bring you every last X-Man’s head, my lord.”

APOCALYPSE, grinning: “I know you will.”

War bows before flying off. Apocalypse, still smiling, returns to his seat and laughs.

In her dorm room, Pixie is freaking out. People around the world are melting or dying in other horrible ways, and she doesn’t want to melt, and she doesn’t want the school to blow up again, or for anyone else to get hurt, or to have to go back to living with her mom.

ICEMAN: “We don’t have time for this!” Bobby forcefully shows Megan coordinates on his phone. “Send us here with your pixie dust NOW, Megan!”

Megan whimpers, afraid of the situation and of Bobby.

Wolverine shoves Bobby away.

WOLVERINE: “I do not care if you’re angry. You do not scream at my friends. Cool off. And do not dare make a pun.”

Iceman backs off as Nori steps forward. Noriko asks Megan if she noticed they’re roommates this year. Pixie nods.

SURGE: “Well, I know I don’t exactly have the best reputation. Gonna be honest: I’m probably gonna annoy you as much as I do everyone else. Only girl who didn’t find me annoying is long gone.” Julian and Laura cringe. “And if you don’t trust the adults to keep us safe at this point, I can’t blame you one bit. But, feel free to tell everyone else: I’m an X-Man now. And you don’t have to like me or trust the adults as protectors…I’ll keep you all safe. No matter what.”

Pixie is able to start calming down and she weakly smiles.

Hellion steps forward with a smug look on his face.

HELLION: “And, when Surge inevitably screws up, because, let’s be honest with ourselves, she will, I’ll always be there to catch her and show her up.” Pixie giggles. “No one ever touches this school again.”

Laura smiles, happy to see her friends like this after their dark turn, while Bobby is impressed.

PIXIE: “Okay. Okay, let’s do this!”

As Pixie starts making her dust, Wolverine stands next to Hellion and Surge.

WOLVERINE: “Welcome back.”

Pixie wishes the X-Men good luck as she sprinkles the four with her dust, sending them away.

In the Mission Room, Magneto and Emma vaporize Iceman’s ice, freeing themselves and Cyclops. They all struggle to catch their breath.

EMMA, telepathically: “That young man is becoming far too powerful.”

Kitty races back into the room.

KITTY: “Hey, perfect timing. You all have a chance to calm the Hell down?”

Cyclops and Erik glare and huph at each other, while Emma turns her eyes toward KItty.

EMMA: “Where are the children?”

KITTY, smirking: “They left with Iceman. Off to save the world.” Emma is visibly pissed off. “If you’re worried about them, they sure could use you two backing them up.”

CYCLOPS, smiling: “Nice work, Kitty.”

KITTY, smirking back: “Thanks. Nice job not letting Emma use your hair like puppet strings for once.”

EMMA: “Do you find this funny?! You have jeoprized our children’s safety!”

KITTY: “And here I thought you believed in your kids’ potential.”

EMMA: “Potential they are YET to realize!”

MAGNETO: “Enough!”

Erik apologizes to Emma, but they cannot bend now. Not with what is at stake. They must hope that, if Apocalypse was in a mood to speak with them, he won’t just kill Wolverine, Hellion, and Surge, and they’ll be able to save them. They already know from Storm’s loss that he’s sparing Omegas, so Iceman will be definitely be safe.

Erik’s words are able to calm Emma and allow her to recompose herself.

EMMA: “Yes. You’re right. That’s that then. Cyclops, Kitty…your move.”

Back over with the girls, Cessily, Roxy, and the Cuckoos are now all on the floor. Sooraya stands over them, wondering just what they took. She won’t take any herself, but figures it would be less awkward if she relaxed a little. She removes her hood and facemask and lays down next the other girls.

CESSILY, ROXY, and CUCKOOS: “WOOOOH! DUST! DUST! DUST!”

IRMA: “Take it all off!”

PHOEBE: “Eww, don’t be gross, Irma.”

The silence resumes as everyone except Soo’s eyes continue to glaze over.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Cessily burts into tears.

Everyone wonders what’s wrong, but she just keeps crying.

ROXY: “Oh. Babe. I wanna help. But I’m over here. And you’re over there. And…ugggggh.”

Sooraya crawls over to Cessily and takes her hand, filling in for her unavailable gf. Without slurring her words like the others, she asks what’s wrong.

CESSILY: “I just…I just feel like I’m being left behind. School won’t last forever. And when it’s done, I don’t want to be the only one who isn’t an X-Man. Three of us already are, four of us should be, Dust, your time is coming and we all know it, babe, you’re a genius, Brian’s got a gimmick, and you Cuckoos may be the worst, but you’re stronger than all of us.” She sniffles and coughs up some metal coins. “I only got put with you guys because I was able to fight Sofia BEFORE she could even fly straight. You all have something I don’t. That natural IT! And no matter how hard I work, I’ll never catch up. I’ve learned to be proud of being a Mutant, but if I can’t fight with you all, you’ll leave me in the distance. Just like they did.”

There’s a pause.

ROXY, still extremely high: “Oh. That’s rough.”

Cessily cries even harder. Sooraya glares at Roxy before holding Cessily.

Iceman, Wolverine, Hellion, and Surge appear in a flash of pink light in Apocalypse’s lair. While Noriko thinks this place is spooky, Julian makes some light for them. His attention is caught by all the murals of Apocalypse…

JULIAN: “And they say I have an ego.”

…with him also noticing one depicting him alongside a dark-skinned woman, their swords both raised in the air as their followers kneel before them.

NORI: “People really worship this creep?”

ICEMAN: “Baselines, Mutants, and everything in between unfortunately. Sometimes you just give up and want a god to make all your problems go away.”

Bobby coughs up a bunch of clones and sends them to scout this place out. No need for them to waste energy hunting for their targets when they can do it. The dupes will hopefully be able to find a horseman or two, and destroy the doomsday device, before they’re all taken out. Plus, if the four of them stick together, they’ll be more difficult to get the drop on.

LAURA: “Huh.”

BOBBY: “What?”

LAURA: “Nothing. Thought you were a clown.”

BOBBY: “I like to be. But my friend is dead. So today, you kids get someone with as much training as Cyclops.”

Iceman leads the kids further into the base.

ICEMAN: “By the way, that was a nice speech you two gave Pixie. I should have said something like that.”

JULIAN: “Only said what I felt. The X-Men have been letting me and mine down since our first month here. Ashida and I aren’t here at this point because we think you’re just so cool…”

NORIKO: “...we’re here because we’re the only ones we trust to do this job right.”

BOBBY, after a pause: “Sooooo, you’re teenagers.” The two pout as Bobby laughs at them after they thought they were sounding so cool. “No, no, I get it, it’s chill. But maybe you’re onto something. This team isn’t what it used to be. Maybe you two are just what it needs.”

Noriko slams a fist against her palm.

NORI: “No one puts my brother in danger. I know Ms. Pryde wants me distracting horsemen or whatever, but I wanna punch this Apocalypse guy in his big, dumb face. ”

“Oh, honey.”

The X-Men arrive in a golden, octacongal chamber, where Exodus and War await them. There are doors all around them. The building is a maze designed to lead trespassers back to this location.

EXODUS: “You’d break every last nail.”

The X-Men stand off against the two Horsemen, with Iceman’s eyes immediately filling with rage.

As Cessily continues to cry and Sooraya holds her, the Cuckoos visibly feel awful for her.

Sooraya tells her that she understands her fears, but she has nothing to worry about. The two of them have been together constantly, and she’s seen her grow so much. Even if she isn’t always getting real “experience” like the others, she’s always pushing herself and getting stronger.

DUST: “No, you aren’t Wind Dancer, Hellion, or Surge. I’m not either. Everyone else seems to think I’ll become an X-Man soon. But the way you push yourself? I know you will.” Cessily sniffles, and wipes her tears. “And even if you don’t? We will never abandon you. We’re not your parents, Cessily. We’re your family.”

Cessily is able to smile and wipe the last of her tears away as she hugs Sooraya.

CESSILY: “Thank you. I love you.”

SOORAYA, hugging her back: “I love you too.”

ROXY, flatly: “Love is awesome.”

CUCKOOS: “Awwwwww.”

SOPHIE: “This is better than Small Town.”

CELESTE: “Are you guys always this sweet?”

Cessily and Sooraya turn to the sisters.

CESSILY: “It’s just called being friends.”

The simplicity of that statement blows the Cuckoos’ minds.

PHOEBE, telepathically: “That’s it?”

CELESTE: “That’s how you make friends?”

IRMA: “Being honest? Vulnerable?”

ESME: “EWW! EWW! EWW!”

OTHER CUCKOOS: “Sophie?”

Sophie takes a moment to think. The other Cuckoos’ expressions change with hers as she decides what they need to do.

SOPHIE: “Well…that’s all we want.”

The camera cuts away from the Cuckoos.

CESSILY, eyes bulging out of her head: “What the Hell?!”

SOORAYA, equally shocked and covering her mouth: “What is this?”

Roxy launches up to her feet, feeling better, before noticing the Cuckoos and fainting.

Iceman turns his arms into blades, glaring with rage and hate, as Exodus welcomes them to where Eden will be reborn.

EXODUS, sultry, leering back at Bobby: “That’s quite the look you’re giving me, Iceman. Positively penetrating.”

WAR: “Why do you need to make this weird?”

HELLION: “And just who are you supposed to be? Iceman?”

ICEMAN: “Never seen her.”

War steps forward, holding out her arms.

WAR: “I am War. And we do not need to fight. We should not be enemies. Everyone in this chamber is an extraordinarily powerful Mutant. We should be working together.”

Hellion and Surge power up their auras.

SURGE: “Thought about it. Decided I’d rather kick your teeth in.”

ICEMAN: “You’re killing millions. And don’t pull the “just humans” thing on me. You’ve been killing our own. From defenseless children to the “strong” you claim to respect. You aren’t getting away with it!”

BEAT.

WAR: “Oh, are you talking about Death?” Bobby’s eyes widen. “He was hardly THAT strong.”

Bobby howls as he forms and launches a glacier to throw at the two horsemen. Exodus blows it apart and rushes Iceman at super speed, punching him in the chest and smashing him through the wall.

EXODUS: “Believe me, I get wanting to kill War. But I’ve already tasted one Omega today. And I want seconds.”

Iceman narrows his eyes and he jumps back.

Back in the main chamber, Hellion laments the plan already going to Hell, but thinking they may as well take War out together then.

HELLION: “We’re gonna break that tacky armor apart as easily as your bones. You got that?!”

While he, Surge, and Wolverine stand ready to fight, War shrugs. She falls back, catching herself in mid-air, and lays back with her legs crossed and her hands behind her head.

WAR: “I have no desire to fight any of you. Stand still and stay out of the way of Famine’s battle, and you will live to see paradise.”

Surge resents being talked down to like this, and is about to jump her, but Wolverine stops her.

WOLVERINE: “Think. Our job was to be a distraction for Iceman against Apocalypse. Now Iceman is distracted. If she is as strong as Exodus, then she’s right that we can’t beat her. If she does not want to fight…then it doesn’t make sense to fight. Not until Iceman wins.”

HELLION, cringing: “I hate that that makes sense.”

SURGE, also annoyed and spitting on the ground: “Seriously, who are you?”

War giggles at them.

WAR: “Within 24 hours? Your princess.”

Iceman vs Exodus begins. Bobby throws everything he has at Famine, from more enormous glaciers, to snowstorms that make the arctic tundra look like the sun.

BOBBY: “What are you even doing here, Exodus?! Last I checked, you hated Apocolypse as much as any of us!”

EXODUS, shielding himself from and blowing away all of Bobby’s attacks: “I did, yes. But Magneto lost his way, and now chooses to walk the path of sloth. Lord Apocalypse’s vision is a holy one.”

Exodus counterattacks at last and blows Iceman apart. He knows that he hasn’t won, and that Iceman can regrow from any chunk of himself. It’s why he can’t defeat him the same way he did Storm. Another reason to join Apocalypse is that, with his Omega-level molecular manipulation and god-like technology, he can make you stronger than you ever imagined. In his case, he was given the technology needed to steal x-genes, and the additional mutation of moisture absorption.

EXODUS: “But you? You are moisture.” He rolls his shoulders as he looks at some of the water drops which wound up on him. “You’re already making me wet.”

A full grown Iceman emerges from one of those water drops and punches Exodus in the face with a mace-hand, drawing blood.

ICEMAN: “What is WRONG with you?!”

Iceman after Iceman grows from the water, snow, and ice all around the room, and, freezing the floor underneath Exodus’ feet to make him slip for just a second, Bobby’s small army of himself gets in close and whales on him. While they do bust up his face and knock out his hair tie, they can’t put him down before he vaporizes all but one.

EXODUS, panting: “What can I say? I like what I see. And don’t you dare say I’m less appealing to the eye than poor, dead, Death.”

BOBBY: “Don’t you…! Wait, are you saying I–?”

With Bobby frazzled, Exodus finds the opening in his mental defenses and psychically brings him to his knees. As Bobby screams, Exodus sadistically grins and approaches him, readying the same hand he used on Storm.

EXODUS: “Don’t worry, Iceman. In a moment, your pain will come to an end. In a moment, you will be…inside me.”

Exodus slams his hand down on Iceman’s face and begins stealing his x-gene.

Back with the girls, Cessily, Sooraya, and even Roxy have gotten situated on one of those beds, the girlfriends both chugging water. Seated on the other bed, the Cuckoos smirk confidently at them.

There’s an awkward silence. Until…

ROXY: “Okay so what WAS that?”

CESSILY: “You said you got your noses done!”

IRMA: “And more!”

Sooraya doesn’t understand. Their unmasked faces were completely mangled. Did they shatter them?

SOPHIE: “No.”

PHOEBE: “They were made broken.”

ESME: “We just fixed them.”

Once again, there’s an awkward silence. And once again, Roxy breaks it.

ROXY: “No. No way. I don’t buy it.”

CELESTE: “Why? Do you expect us all to act like whiny victims?”

IRMA: “We’re exactly who we were meant to be.”

A look of realization slowly creeps onto Cessily’s face.

CESSILY: “BULLSHIT!”

The Cuckoos giggle.

Sooraya still doesn’t get it. The Cuckoos reason she may not have any context for what’s going on, so they decide to make it easier for her, and just beam the information into her head.

Sooraya’s eyes widen.

SOORAYA: “Oh. I…didn’t realize that was possible. Congratulations?”

Roxy gets a chuckle out of that. Some of the celebrities she introduced her to over the break were also trans, and it just never came up.

The Cuckoos nonetheless thank Sooraya, and all of them for understanding. They aren’t so sure everyone here would be, Mutant or not.

The sisters go on to say that, for as long as they can remember, they’ve known who they wanted to be, and how they wanted to live their lives. From being pop stars, to ruling the school, and being friends with all the coolest people. They thought they were cool and hot and powerful enough to force it, but that just ruined everything.

SOPHIE: “This is all still so new to us…and we didn’t know what else to do. We are sorry.”

With the Cuckoos actually looking like they mean it, the three friends turn to each other, unsure of what to say next.

In the Mission Room, Scott turns and paces away from Emma and Erik.

ERIK: “Do you remember when we spoke on Genosha? In no way did I infer that I had come to think the same way as Charles. What I told you was that I’d realized that attempting to dominate humanity would only ever divide Mutantkind. If there is no humanity, and Apocalypse is defeated later, there will be no division. I was chosen by Phoenix in its infinite wisdom to lead our people. It knows that this is the path forward.”

Scott takes a moment to respond. He doesn’t look back at Erik, but he does tilt his head.

SCOTT: “The same Phoenix that destroyed Genosha?”

Erik is enraged.

ERIK: “How dare you.”

Scott turns back to face him.

SCOTT: “How dare I? Do you really think this is what any of your people would have wanted?”

ERIK: “They are dead!”

SCOTT: “And clearly more dead bodies will stop the problem, right? Just hope that Apocalypse has changed slightly and if he hasn’t, take him out? Great, what happens next? You lead us? No one challenges that? You, of all people, are going to unite the remaining population of millions? Millions who, by and large, actively chose against moving to Genosha? After doing THIS?”

Magneto clenches his teeth and fists and forms magnetic bubbles around his hands.

SCOTT: “Go. Do it. Blow me up as easily as I know you can. Doesn’t change that the reason Apocalypse’s plan will work and yours won’t is the same reason you were never able to wipe out humanity.”

ERIK, stomping forward: “Are you calling me weak?”

SCOTT: “No. I’m calling Apocalypse the devil. And despite the horns on that helmet of yours, you just aren’t. You don’t have the stomach to do what you’d need to to force everyone to follow you. Even if you had his resources, you wouldn’t have the stomach to initiate this plan yourself.”

Magneto grabs Scott by the throat.

MAGNETO, through gritted teeth: “And what makes you so sure?”

“Because I still remember a kind old man who wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he’d killed a single little Jewish, Mutant girl.”

Erik turns to look at Kitty as she finishes speaking. She mocks him with taunting eyes and a head tilt. He cringes and powers down.

Magneto sighs.

MAGNETO: “That is another tally on the board for you, Summers. I concede. And I am sorry.”

Scott puts a hand on his shoulder.

SCOTT: “We all want the pain to stop. One day, it will. But it will be through the dream. Not like this.”

Everyone turns to Emma, unsure if she’s gotten on the same page from all this.

Emma struts over to Scott like nothing is wrong and kisses him.

EMMA: “I have nothing to apologize for.”

The lovers share a smirk, but it’s quickly back to business. They have a big bad to beat.

SCOTT: “And you don’t need to hear me say I forgive you.”

In Apocalypse's base, Iceman attempts to resist having his powers stolen by freezing Exodus's hand, but against his telekinesis and telepathic assault, that can only do so much. Famine taunts Bobby with a slasher smile as he creeps into his mind.

EXODUS: “Of all people, you should relish the potential of our victory. You are Omega. You would live one step below godhood. Your full power will be unleashed, not suppressed.”

Bobby groans as he pictures both his solo victory over one of the super sentinels, as well as a flashback to when he was a teenager, being scolded by Xavier and laughed at by the rest of the 05.

EXODUS: “You will not fear yourself.”

Bobby moans louder as he flashes back to his interactions with Christian and Warren. Special attention is put on their smiles and Warren’s post-shower chest.

EXODUS: “You will have a lord who accepts you.”

Bobby screams as he thinks back to being a kid, slapped across the face by his father, with a cross on a wall visible in the background.

EXODUS: “Your loyalty or your weapon. Whatever your choice, you must submit.”

Bobby groans and struggles as resisting becomes almost impossible. His head is hung and his time is nearly out.

ICEMAN: “I…thank you, Exodus.”

Exodus raises his eyebrows in surprise.

EXODUS: “For showing you the righteous path?”

Bobby laughs.

BOBBY: “Hell no. For proving every telepath I’ve ever known right.” He manically grins up at Exodus. “Intrusive telepathy DOES beat therapy!”

Bobby flash freezes the arm Exodus has on him, and with an uppercut, shatters it. Exodus screams in pain and horror as Iceman powers back up and blasts away at him, hitting him hard enough to send him crashing through multiple walls, and outside into the surrounding desert.

Iceman, talking to Exodus as faces on water drops on his clothes, tells Exodus that he never dreamed he could be who he is now. He didn’t even fully realize who that was until just now. And you know who that is? The hero who will always step up. The hero who CAN always step up, because he can do anything, and because he isn’t smart enough to overthink a problem that has a villain to be punched. And also?”

ICEMAN, as he stands over Exodus on an ice bridge: “I’m gay. But you are so not my type.”

Exodus desperately attempts another telepathic assault, but Bobby counters with the Red Diamond.

Bobby smiles up. “Check what happens next, Warren.”

Iceman blasts again at Exodus, with Famine now the one struggling to shield himself.

Still standing by, Hellion and Surge cheer at the sight of Iceman kicking Exodus’ ass.

HELLION: “Better go running to your lord and master for safety. Once he’s done with him, you’ll have to deal with all of us.”

War turns her head toward where the fight is happening.

WAR, under her breath: “That buffoon.”

War lands on her feet, one arm behind her back and one hand on the hilt of her sword. Surge questions if she’s ready to start now.

WAR: “No. I still don’t wish to fight. I just wanted to ask you something. You’re all students at the Xavier Institute, aren’t you?”

NORIKO: “Jean Grey School. What of it?”

LAURA: “Don’t talk to her. This is obviously a play.”

Julian erects a forcefield around the three kids. He’s putting all his power behind it, and he doesn’t care how strong she is, she isn’t breaking it down. No matter what she says, they’re staying on defense.

WAR: “So suspicious. I only asked because I was curious if any of you ever happened to meet a girl I encountered. I believe her name was…Sofia Mantega?”

The eyes of all three young X-Men, including Wolverine, immediately become intense.

JULIAN: “Why do you know who that is?!”

NORIKO: “What did you do to her?!”

LAURA, not keeping her cool: “Steady heads.”

War shakes her head.

WAR: “It’s such a tragic story. A powerful young Mutant stripped of her weapon, all because she trusted fools who told her her place was to serve the weak. Made weak herself, and becoming as pitiful as any human, attacking her own people.” War paces forward. “Lord Apocalypse took note of her online acts. They spoke and, in the end, all was well.”

JULIAN: “If you so much as hurt one hair on her head, I’ll tear you limb from limb! You hear me?!”

WAR: “Hurt her? Never.” Beat. “I just put her out of her misery.”

Surge and Hellion snap, firing massive blasts at War, but the only thing their attacks successfully destroy is a good chunk of the base, as War somehow forces their tk energy and electricity to crash against the walls, rather than travel in a straight path toward her.

Wolverine, having lost all sense of leadership and composure, rushes War. However, she’s completely outclassed. War is fast and skilled enough to block all of her attacks with seeming efforltessness, she counters every move with a harsh body blow, and by the end of Laura’s attempted assault, she has Wolverine restrained by simply holding onto and crushing her arm.

War tosses the battered Wolverine at the other two X-Men’s feet. Hellion and Surge charge in next, both coated in forcefields, and while that, plus their superspeed, allows them to do better, War can still either physically block or otherwise deflect all of their attacks.

WAR: “If this is the best your school has, you need a better teacher.”

War sends the two flying back, scorching them both with her flames. Wolverine gets back up and tries to fight again, but she doesn’t even get to make War block this time, as War easily steps out of the way of all of her attacks, and just gets to beat on her.

WAR: “I am sorry it’s come to this. But the pain will make you stronger.”

Seemingly spontaneously, Wolverine is slashed all over her body, deep bloody marks covering her from head to toe. Laura screams, and with one more punch tot the face, War puts her down. Screaming like maniacs, Hellion and Surge try one more time to do anything they can against War, but War just puts her hand to her head like a telepath and, a moment later, Noriko and Julian collapse to the floor, with their heads in agony.

WAR, casually stepping past the kids in Iceman and Exodus’ direction: “If you wish to stand for something…if you wish to protect those who cannot protect themselves…the becoming the strongest and dominating is your only option. Otherwise? You’re just asking to be stepped on.”

Julian and Noriko try to get up, but a sharp, invisible pain keeps them down.

WAR: “I’ll see you in the new world.”

Julian and Noriko pass out.

In the girls' room, the eight teens are all sprawled back out on the floor, lying back in a circle. There’s a moment of silence.

CESSILY: “You drugged us. That’s really messed up.”

SOPHIE: “We tried just talking before.”

ROXY: “Yeah, well, next time, maybe stick to that.”

SOPHIE, perking up: “Next time?”

Neither Cessily nor Roxy responds.

SOORAYA: “I learned so much about American culture during the break. Things I never cared to learn while here. In so many ways, it is the free, wonderous place it promises. In others..” Sooraya trails off. “I’m still not sure if the country outside these walls is right for me. Much of it goes against…everything. Ommi is enamored. She loves it here. But even for baselines, it is more than it claims.” Sooraya looks at the sisters. “You threatened my mother. But I believe you have changed. I am not who you harmed the worst. The choice is Roxanne’s.”

All eyes turn to Roxy. She exhales.

ROXY: “You’re not the first girls I’ve met like you. Girls who’ve got everything and think that means they can take anything they want. Even people.” The Cuckoos faces fall. They don’t think this is going to end well. Roxy looks at Sooraya. “But last year, I realized the only difference between me and them was I threw tantrums when I didn’t get my way instead of pushing my pain onto others. I was just as entitled.” She looks back at the Cuckoos. “And another I learned last year? There are parts of us we don’t even know about just waiting to be uncovered. Good or bad, we’ve all got something else going on that we don’t show. I may regret this…but yeah, Sophie. You and your girls get a next time.”

The Cuckoos all squee in delight, and even Cess and Soo seem pleased. Finally! Roxy won’t regret this. They’re going to be the best friends ever and run this school again.

The others glare at them like they can’t be serious.

CELESTE: “We mean by being popular.”

Roxy and Sooraya breathe sighs of relief.

CESSILY: “Well, the Hellions cannot come back for sure…but maybe we don’t need to be *totally* nice.”

Everyone’s a little intrigued by what she’s thinking.

We cut to Quentin’s room, where he and Brian are playing video games. Quentin has a “Magneto Was Right” poster on his wall, alongside various academic awards. The two boys are sitting back playing video games. We hold on this visual for a few seconds, until a giant, creepy monster pops out of the screen. Brian and Quentin scream in terror.

Outside in the hall, the Cuckoos, Cessily, Sooraya, and Roxy laugh at their prank. Quentin is so scared, he loses control of his telekinesis and blasts out the light fixture, making the boys scream more. The girls pause, momentarily worried, and the Cuckoos shut off the illusion.

QUENTIN, scared out of his mind: “Cuckoos! I know that was you!”

The girls still seem concerned…but then they burst out laughing again.

In Egypt, Iceman vs Exodus reaches a climax. Iceman laughs at the one-armed Exodus as he launches one ave of destructive tk energy after another, filling the air with sand. He keeps blowing Bobby apart, but he has no way of actually keeping him down.

ICEMAN: “It doesn’t matter how many times you blow your load. Even the desert can’t make me melt.”

Iceman freezes all of the sand Exodus has kicked up, sharpens it, and pelts Exodus with millions of hail shards. Bobby follows up with one more freezing blast to completely overwhelm Exodus.

As the attacks finish, Exodus is down. For Warren and for the Mocklocks, Bobby is going to take him out.

Exodus pants. Maybe he is about to lose…but he can still fight.

From his one remaining hand, Exodus launches a TK wave, not at Iceman, but at the section of the base they came from, where Julian, Noriko, and Laura are passed out and helpless.

Iceman screams in horror, powerful as he is, he can’t freeze the blast, or at least not as quickly as he needs to.

ICEMAN: “NO!”

The music stops everything stops. Everything stops except for Iceman.

Bobby is weirded out, and confused by what’s going on. But then he realizes it. He did this. He froze time.

ICEMAN: “I…I can do this?” BEAT “BWAHAHAHA! THAT’S SO COOL!”

With time now on his side, but feeling like he can’t do this forever, Bobby takes the time he needs to freeze and shatter Exodus’ attack, although doing so clearly exhausts him, as he’s already used so much energy. For Exodus, time unfreezes as Iceman skewers him with two sharpened arms.

ICEMAN, exhausted: “Congrats. You got me inside you.”

Fear of death overtakes Exodus’ face as Iceman freezes him from the inside out.

EXODUS: “This…this cannot be. I am the lord’s most faithful soldier. I cannot die to a clown.”

ICEMAN: “I may be a clown. But at least I’m no one’s b–”

Iceman’s victory quote is interrupted, and his victory is stopped, as a hellstorm of flames melts him down, the nature of the attack hurting him far more than Exodus’. War has arrived. With all the energy Bobby has already spent, the intensity of War’s heat makes it a struggle to reform his body. She shows no mercy as she continues to hit him again and again, cackling manically and leaving him a series of puddles in the sand.

WAR: “And he said I couldn’t fight an Omega.”

Exodus pants as he stands up and cauterizes his wounds.

EXODUS: “I…had the situation under control.”

WAR, mockingly: “Of course you did. Now shut off his brain. It’s the only way to kill him.”

EXODUS: “Do not presume to order me, you little –”

APOCALYPSE, telepathically, cutting him off: “Famine. War. You must leave at once.”

WAR AND EXODUS: “WHAT?!”

They’re both confused. They’re winning. And they’re about to kill Iceman.

APOCALYPSE: “The X-Men’s leaders are arriving. Famine, you are in no condition to face Magneto as you wish to. War, your psychic defenses cannot withstand a single attack from Emma Frost. You have done well. Now leave the rest to me.”

WAR, worried: “But my lord–!”

APOCALYPSE: “Do you doubt my ability to defeat them? Do you doubt my strength?”

War hates this, bending over and clenching her fists in frustration at this order, but she can’t argue.

WAR: “Show no mercy, my lord.”

War flies off.

EXODUS: “As I heal, I shall find our new people, and shepherd them to their true paths.”

Exodus flies off.

Right outside Apocalypse’s base, Cyclops, Emma, Magneto, and Kitty finally arrive in a flash of pink sparkles.

Emma’s first act is to breathe a sigh of relief. She senses that the kids and Iceman are all still alive. Down and out, but alive. They’re also in luck: it doesn’t seem like any Horsemen are present. Either they went down taking them out, or Apocalypse wants them all alone.

Magneto orders Kitty to retrieve the kids and get them out of the base; the base may not survive the upcoming battle. Once that’s done, it’s her responsibility to disable Apocalypse’s machinery, get out, and see what she can do about Iceman.

MAGNETO, looking to Scott and Emma: “Apocalypse wished to speak with us three. We shall grant that wish.”

Kitty doesn’t question these orders for a second, tells the others to not mess this up, and runs in ahead of them.

The three leaders dramatically follow behind her. Or, not so dramatically.

SCOTT: “Let’s a make bet.”

EMMA, not having time for this: “What?”

SCOTT: “Make it interesting. Losing isn’t an option. We’re going to win. So let’s make a bet for who takes him down.”

MAGNETO: “Are you being serious right now?”

SCOTT, smiling and shrugging: “You shouldn’t be complaining. Odds are in your favor.” He looks at Emma. “If I put Apocalypse down, I get to teach you how to fly the Blackbird, and if you win, I’ll learn to ride a horse?”

EMMA, continuing to glare at him in confusion: “Are you okay?”

Scott laughs.

SCOTT: “Oh god no.”

In Apocalypse’s throneroom, Apocalypse sits, all by himself, his servants no longer present. He wearily leans to his side, resting his head on a fist.

The leaders enter. Apocalypse,although still tried, grins.

APOCALYPSE: “You have arrived. Are you here to witness the apocalypse alongside it?” The three just glare back. Apocalypse laughs. “No. I suppose you aren’t.” Apocalypse takes a breath. “I cannot say I understand. I have observed you. None of you are weak. Not like Charles Xavier. Even you, Child of X. I believed that the overly gentle terms I have set would be…agreeable.”

The three continue to stare him down. Rather than respond to what he said, Magneto notices something else.

MAGNETO: “You are already gravely injured. Sick. That’s why you have shown humanity this “mercy”. Not out of any desire to reach out an olive branch. You don’t even have the energy for a prolonged conflict, do you?”

Emma questions how that’s possible. She and him have never had a chance to get acquainted, thank god, but isn’t he supposed to be immortal? Scott confirms this, and shares in her confusion, as if he did survive his last encounter with the X-Men, he should have needed to spend time in his regenerative chamber; the real reason they’ve never been able to stop him for good.

APOCALYPSE, nodding: “What you say is true. But a sacrifice was necessary. One I do not regret.”

Apocalypse questions if this is really what they want. To perpetuate the conflict among them. To prolong their suffering.

The leaders tell him that question was a difficult one for them to come to a consensus on. But this won’t stop the fighting either. And at the end of the day, there are good humans; there is no good in Apocalypse.

CYCLOPS: “Unless you mean to tell us you’ve changed your view of Mutants you don’t see as “worthy”.”

APOCALYPSE, smiling: “The weak have no place in this world but to be crushed by the strong. That fact will never change. But I have witnessed the weakest, most pathetic of creatures transform themselves into the very strongest, given the right circumstances. All Mutants will have a chance in my world. It is not my fault if they fail.”

Apocalypse knows that Kitty is also here and what she’s no doubt after. But they misunderstand. The plague has already been released. Millions have died, thousands have been born, and destroying the weapons of the old gods will not stop this from continuing. He explains that in granting each of his new Horsemen new Mutations, he set a condition on them: should they ever lose a battle, those abilities would fade away. He has put a similar condition on himself. If he falls, the plague will cease. That is the only way to stop it.

APOCALYPSE: “If I can not still crush any who oppose me…then I have no right to dictate the new world. And the new world is not ready to be born.” He sits up straight. “Do you issue the challenge?”

MAGNETO, stepping forward: “The X-Men do.”

APOCALYPSE, moaning: “Very well.” Apocalypse slowly stands up, cracking his muscles and drawing two swords. “I am the weakest I have been in thousands of years. I stand against two Omegas and an Alpha. I…shall grant you honorable deaths.”

Moving at super speed, Apocalypse rushes Magneto. Erik is able to hold him back with magnetic force, taking hold of Apocalypse’s hands to keep his balance, but this only lasts for a few seconds before Magneto is overpowered and sent flying through a wall.

Cyclops blasts Apocalypse, but his optic beams merely tickle the immortal, who sends Scott flying with a far more powerful concussive blast of his own.

EMMA, transforming into her diamond form: “You shouldn't have done that, Apocalypse. No one gets to beat that man but me.”

Emma attempts to fight Apocalypse head on, but the punches of the form which survived Genosha can do little more than annoy him. She’s backhanded across the face, and sent flying like the others.

Apocalypse is disappointed. He assumed if they were challenging him, without even knowing his condition, they must have gotten stronger. Instead, they are just fools.

Scott looks to Emma, and then up at the hole Magneto made. He whistles.

The ground shakes. All of the heavy machinery and everything else made of metal in the room shakes as well. Apocalypse appears more interested than afraid by what’s happening. Flying back into the throneroom, Magneto launches everything at Apocalypse. A is easily able to smash and slice apart everything thrown at him, but all of this is just a distraction to allow Magneto to nail him in the face with a ground-shaking punch. Apocalypse isn’t sent flying, but he is knocked back and visibly injured.

APOCALYPSE: “There it is.”

Cyclops and Magneto blast at him at the same time, and when Apocalypse blasts back, Emma steps in the way of Scott, blocking for him, while Erik defends himself. Without wasting an instant, Scott leaps off of Emma’s shoulder and targets Apocalypse’s head with a still-wider blast. Apocalypse telekinetically tosses them both away as he grunts, but is left open to be ravaged by a full-power magnetic wave.

The attack not only launches Apocalypse out into the desert, but damages the infrastructure of the base. This is seen as we briefly cut to Kitty, as she drags the three kids out of there. The crumbling starts.

Apocalypse remains standing, even if he is bleeding. Cyclops blasts Emma, launching her as a projectile at Apocalypse. He grabs her throat, ready to slash her head off, but she is merely a distraction, for Magneto to swoop in and tackle the titan. Apocalypse dissolves his swords, knowing they’ll do more harm than good at this stage.

With his whole body charged up, Magneto and Apocalypse engage in hand to hand combat, moving even faster than War and Archangel did in their duel. While Magneto is succeeding in further injuring Apocalypse, each one of Apocalypse’s blows takes far more out of him.

Eventually, Erik’s weariness and injuries catch up with him, and he slows down to the point Apocalypse sees an opening for a killing blow. He doesn’t get to deliver it though, as Emma is once again blasted by Scott, this time being positioned in between A and Erik to tank the hit. Magneto takes advantage of this, slamming his hands together and blasting Apocalypse once again.

At last, A falls.. He narrows his eyes at Cyclops. Scott smirks back.

We briefly flashback to sometime earlier in the year, Scott, Emma, and Erik seated around Emma’s desk. Each has a binder in front of them. Magneto is unamused and puzzled by what Scott has him looking at. Scott explains that it’s the X-Men’s strategy book. It’s a little list of tactics for each specific alignment of X-Men in the face of any given scenario. He updates it every time the rollcall changes.

SCOTT, extremely proud of himself: “Pretty cool, right?”

EMMA, lying and slightly embarrassed as she pats his shoulder: “Yes. Very.”

In any case, since Magneto’s in charge now, and many of these strategies involve him, he needs to study up. Magneto sees little point. There are few threats he cannot crush on his own.

MAGNETO, flipping a page: “Oh. Actually…this one could be of use.”

In the present, Apocalypse takes note of what his enemies have been doing. Cyclops acting as a distraction and Emma acting as a shield, so that Magneto can focus just on hitting him as hard as he can.

APOCALYPSE: “Hardly an honorable way to fight.”

CYCLOPS: “Maybe. But Break the Juggernaut Isn’t about honor.”

MAGNETO: ‘You did NOT name this.”

EMMA: “Oh, let him have his fun.”

Apocalypse gets pissed as he floats up and finally powers up, kicking up a sandstorm and destroying the rest of his base as he shakes the Earth in the process. He fires off a massive energy attack in all directions, forcing Emma to shield Scott, and Magneto to stand on his own and try to cut a path through it. He succeeds, only to be met once again by Apocalypse. Now using the full extent of his current power, Apocalypse grows two additional arms, and with them beats Magneto halfway to death.

APOCALYPSE, continuing to break Magneto: “You all think me evil? “No good” you said? I did not fail to stop a small, feeble human from causing the deaths of 16 million of us.”

He tosses away a barely clinging to life Magneto away like a ragdoll before leaping and chokeslamming Emma.

APOCALYPSE: “I have not failed my student.”

Using his molecular manipulation, he turns off her diamond form. Emma, while being strangled, knows he’s too powerful a telepath himself for her to just shut him down, but she is able to force him to let her go, letting her gasp for air. Scott blasts at him, but Apocalypse’s blasts are once again far more powerful, and a single shot puts Scott in similar condition to Magneto.

Apocalypse floats over Cyclops.

APOCALYPSE: “I have not abdicated my responsibilities.” Apocalypse holds out his arms. “None of you are fit to rule!”

BEAT, focusing on the battered leaders.

SCOTT: “Yeah. That’s the point.”

Cyclops removes his visor and hits Apocalypse with the full brunt of his power, at last able to make him feel it.

CYCLOPS: “You don’t want any tricks? Just power? Well here it is!”

Apocalypse’s shields are overwhelmed, and he’s launched higher into the sky. He’s immediately dragged back down by Emma’s telekinesis, dragging him back into Scott’s line of fire, and hitting him with her own psychic lightning.

Apocalypse’s knees bend, as the Celestial tech parts of his body begin to flicker and fail. He knows none of them can withstand another attack from him. He just needs to…

He doesn’t get to finish whatever he was saying, as from above, Magneto lets loose everything he has left, and applies the pressure needed to knock Apocalypse on his face, and keep him stuck where he is.

MAGNETO: “FINISH IT!”

As their attacks fill the sky along with the sandstorm, Kitty watches from a distance, in awe of what these three fighting together looks like.

Eventually, Scott, Emma, and Magneto are completely tapped out, and fall over, a cloud of smoke hiding the fate of Apocalypse. They all wait tensely to see if they’ve won. If they haven’t, it’s all over.

The smoke clears…

And Apocalypse still stands.

APOCALYPSE, slurring his words, all his tech destroyed or powered off, and bleeding all over: “Weak as I am. Strong as you all are. I cannot be stopped.”

Scott, Emma, and Erik look on in horror. The world is doomed.

Apocalypse takes slow, heavy steps toward them. We cut away to Exodus’ face, the man somewhere far away. He’s smirking maliciously.

EXODUS: “I think not.”

For a split second, Apocalypse’s eyes flash pink. At long last, it’s Exodus’ surprise psychic blast that brings Apocalypse down, knocking him out, as an explosion takes place in the remnants of Apocalypse’s base.

The three leaders look at his unconscious body in stunned silence, unaware of the betrayal that just occurred. One by one, they all laugh. They actually did it.

CYCLOPS: “Okay, you know what…I think we can call the bet a draw.”

Scott passes out, and the others are quick to follow.

Sometime later, back at the school, an assembly is being held. Many of the students are afraid following the recent events. Magneto, in a wheelchair, sits on the stage and speaks to them about the great tragedy that occurred. While the X-Men did succeed in stopping Apocalypse and his plague, the Morlocks are all gone, including their former classmates Artie and Leech, and 10 million baselines died in the process. A few kids are crying.

Magneto goes on to say that they should mourn and they will help them in anyway they can. A loss of life like this is always a tragedy. Baseline or Mutant.

The other day, he spoke to them all. Not in his words, but in those of their previous headmaster. And he is glad he did not speak to them as he would have liked to. While he may stand firm in his philosophies, they are not what should be passed down to the future. They should not need to be passed down to the future, even if he believes they are what will ensure it.

And in truth, when it came to stopping the ultimate evil, he and they worked better together than he could have imagined. Cyclops and Emma walk on stage. It is for this reason that, from now on, the three of them shall be equal partners in running the school and leading the X-Men. Together, they defeated the unstoppable. And while he will not promise there will be no more tragedies because there will be, they will still do all they can to help the children flourish.

There’s a slow, awkward applause.

Out in the hallway, soon after this, the three leaders walk with Kitty. Nice speech, but the kids may call them liars when they find out they weren’t actually able to finish off Apocalypse.

Kitty isn’t sure what happened, but by the time she reached the uncnocious trio, Apocalypse’s body was gone. Emma brings up that there’s also still the matter of the four horsemen as well. Hopefully Iceman (confirmed to slowly be re-forming) will be up for a rematch by then. Magneto laments that, short of the plague, they may have to do this all over again whenever Apocalypse finishes restoring himself. Scot isn’t worried. The X-Men have this covered.

Storm appears in their path, smiling. Kitty is relieved to see she’s doing better, as is Erik, who offers her his condolences; he more than anyone knows what she must be feeling right now. Ororo thanks them both…and reluctantly, thanks Emma for her part in stopping the plague.

EMMA: “Well, someone had to, while others were laying in bed.”

Ororo rolls her eyes. She needs to speak with Scott. Alone. Kitty gives her a hug and Magneto shakes her hand, before the three comply.

Scott asks Ororo what he’s done now, which just makes Storm laugh. Is that how he sees her now? The nagging big sister who’s always finding faults.

SCOTT, cheeky: “A little bit.”

Storm grins. She heard everything from Kitty. And she is so proud of her brother. When the ultimate test came, he stuck to what he knew was right, and did not allow himself to succumb to the darkness he’s surrounded himself in.

STORM: “Perhaps I lost faith in you too quickly.”

Scott tells her not to worry about it. He gave her reason to worry. Does this mean she’ll rejoin the team? They both know she doesn’t need her powers for the job. Ororo thanks him, but she isn’t ready to go that far. Especially not now. The Morlocks didn’t have any loved ones, but Betsy could use her right now. And after that…

STORM: “A young man witnessed my battle online. He called me, claiming to be my nephew. I’m intrigued.”

The two hug it out, and Scott wishes her luck with everything.

Storm begins to walk off, but…

STORM: “Oh, and Cyclops. When you find Exodus…kill him for me.”

Scott sneers and nods.

At the Grindstone, the three young X-Men and their friends, which now includes the Cuckoos and Quentin are all hanging out. Brian is annoyed about the girls bringing the Cuckoos, especially after the prank they all pulled on them, but Roxy counters if he can add “sweater-vest” to the gang, they can add the Cuckoos. The sisters play it cool, teasing that, really, they all have the fortune of now being in “their” group, but really they’re just so happy to finally be here.

NORIKO, slamming her hands on the table: “Is no one gonna bring up the three of us helping to save the world? Cause I think that’s a pretty big deal.”

JULIAN: “Yeah, no need to grovel, but a thank you would be nice. Groveling would be appreciated though.”

Laura rolls her eyes at them, as she reminds them that they all lost. Badly. All they achieved was getting Iceman severely injured, and keeping Exodus alive.

CESSILY: “I also heard something about you two wanting to let Apocalypse win?”

Julian and Noriko shrink, embarrassed. Everyone laughs at them.

Sooraya is just glad they came to their senses. That on its own is a victory. But who is strong enough to beat the three of them so easily?

QUENTIN: “Like it’d be that hard.”

Brian punches his shoulder.

Julian slams his fists together. You know who I think War is?

JULIAN: “Ms. Grey.”

The others think he’s crazy, but he tells them to think about it. She has flames, telekinesis, and is super strong. Who else could it be?

There’s a pause, as everyone considers this.

LAURA: “There’s also Prestige.”

JULIAN: “Tch! I don’t care if she’s Jean, her daughter, or her granddaughter from even further in the future, next time I see her, I’m taking her out.”

Julian, Noriko, and Laura all exchange glances.

We flashback to the three young X-Men in the medical bay, after waking up. They make an agreement. They don’t tell the others what War said about Sofia. Not until they know for sure she isn’t lying. And not until that heartless monster is dead.

In the present, Noriko gets up to go get everyone drinks. Milkshakes on the newbies!

Back in Egypt, we pan down on the wrecked base to reveal that Apocalypse had a second, underground base. Apocalypse appears barely alive as he can only walk with an arm around War’s shoulders, and her holding him up.

WAR: “Just a little further to your chamber, my lord.” She grunts. “Why didn’t you let me fight with you? We could have killed them!” Apocalypse weakly groans. War is clearly afraid. “Just a little further.”

The two arrive where his restorative chamber should be. Apocalypse’s eyes widen in horror.

WAR: “No.”

Someone has destroyed his chamber.

Apocalypse collapses against a wall. War bends down, not understanding how this could happen.

WAR: “I…I shall find someone who can fix it. I will make them fix it!”

War starts to rush off, but Apocalypse takes her hand and asks her to stay. It’s okay. It’s done.

War gets on her knees. He can’t be giving up. He’s Apocalypse!

APOCALYPSE: “I…will never yield. I will never die. But without my chamber, I will not wake up from my slumber for a long, long time.”

WAR, her small hands clasped around one of Apocalypse’s massive ones, audibly crying under her helmet: “No. No!” She bows her head. “This is my fault. You could have destroyed them with ease if I had–”

APOCALYPSE: “Shhh. Regret for the past is a weakness.”

WAR, knowing exactly what to say: “Action in the present is strength.” She sniffles. “What about our mission? We were meant to save the world.”

Apocalypse coughs up blood.

APOCALYPSE: “Our mission…is now your mission. Clan Akabba is yours to lead.” War whispers “no”. “Are you afraid?”

WAR: “Never!”

APOCALYPSE: “Then do…as I trained you to do.”

Apocalypse pulls War into his arms and removes her helmet, although the audience still can’t see who it is. We do see that she has long brown hair, as Apocalypse strokes it.

APOCALYPSE: “You are the strongest. Perhaps not in power, but in spirit. This world…is yours to conquer.” War continues to nod along as she cries into his chest. “Let these be the last tears you shed. Only the wives and children of your slain enemies may weep.”

WAR, still speaking in a distorted voice without her helmet: “ I will burn this world in the flames of war, for I am the war that will never end. I will make you proud.”

APOCALYPSE: “I know…you will.”

Apocalypse runs out of energy and enters a long, long sleep.

WAR: “Goodbye…Father.”

Elsewhere in the base, in Apocalypse’s backup throneroom, Exodus is in a perfectly good mood. Apocalypse may be lost, as are the powers of Famine, but he’s still more than powerful enough to lead the remaining Horseman to glory.

EXODUS, mockingly: “In the name of Lord Apocalypse, of course.”

Sitting across from him, lighting a cigarette, is a muscular Japanese man with a mohawk in a silk shirt, slacks, and a katana strapped to his back.

DEATH: “Forgive me, Famine, but I can’t believe in a loser to aid me in my revenge.”

EXODUS: “I am the ONLY Omega among us.”

“Boys, be nice.”

DEATH: “Such a scary little word you like to toss around. Maybe one day it will mean something.”

The fourth and final Horseman, Pestilence, reveals herself, and it’s a familiar face: Polaris. She sits with the two men.

PESTILLENCE: “Unless you actually want to kill each other. That sounds fun to watch.”

Death laughs as he smokes.

DEATH: “Perhaps I should lead us.”

EXODUS: “I *would* kill you if you tried.”

DEATH, casually reaching for his katana, unafraid: “By all means, go ahead and try it.”

Exodus powers up, ready to start another fight. Polaris grins as it looks like this will happen, her eyes turning purple.

“Quit your bickering!”

War stomps into the throneroom, getting the other three horsemen’s attention.

WAR: ‘Lord Apocalypse is gone. His mission is now our mission. Before he awakens, it is our responsibility to make this world strong. Before he awakens, we must cleanse the world of the weak. Of the human. And, most importantly…”

War sits on Apocalypse’s throne as her face is finally shown.

WAR: “Of the X-Men.”

Her skin is blue, but War’s identity is still clear. She is Sofia Mantega.

While Exodus sneers at her and Polaris chuckles, Death smirks and steps forward to kneel before War. And for War, there is nothing but hate and pain inside her eyes.

#new x-men: the animated series #new x-men #academy x #scott summers #emma frost #Magneto #kitty pryde #roberto da costa #bobby drake #illyana rasputin #laura kinney #julian keller #noriko ashida #sooraya qadir #cessily kincaid #brian cruz #roxanne washington #the stepford cuckoos #quentin quire

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daintyduck99 · 7 months

Note

"Did you really think I was gonna let you leave without a hug?" + Sweet Tarts?

He didn't show. He didn't fucking show.

And isn't that just typical?

If only reminding herself helped at all.

But Carrie's had years of practice, and she's a born performer; she struts across the stage with her head held high.

A genuine smile finds its way onto her lips as Reggie's wolf whistle rises out of the crowd, but it dies after she drops Principal Lessa's hand, clutching her diploma and blankly making her way back to her seat. It doesn't take long; she's in the very front.

Funnily enough, she placed fifth in the class, right behind Julie. It doesn't sting like it once would've, so. There is that.

Julie frowns. She clutches Carrie's arm and leans in to whisper, "Are you okay?"

Carrie dips her head back, hoping it's enough to get her point across. She can't say it out loud; it's much too early to cry.

Julie hisses through her teeth.

"Seriously? He didn't even send Dante?"

Carrie shrugs sharply. She didn't see her father's personal assistant, but he's difficult to miss, as he's flamboyant and imposing.

Honestly. She can't wait to see what sort of excuse he comes up with for this one.

But the real question is what sort of bribe he's going to smooth it over with, isn't it?

Sometimes it's more like he's trying to smooth her over, like she's just a wrinkle in his glamorous, blitzed out rockstar life.

Well. This is her life, and she's going to keep making her own name, at the college she chose and not whichever one he's probably going to offer to throw money at.

Julie refuses to let Carrie stalk off as soon as graduation officially ends, though, quashing her burst of motivation before she can go start her summer assignment.

So what if she hasn't read the book yet?

She's scarcely shucked off her heels before Julie's dragging her to their friends, who dogpile them despite Carrie's shriek.

Reggie rescues her from the fray, shielding her in a singular embrace as he wraps his arms around her, and he laughs into her hair as she proceeds to huff about it all.

"Come on, Care. Did you really think we were going to let you leave without a hug?"

"That wasn't a hug," she mutters. "It felt like I was in a cartoon fight with everyone's fists flying around, it was just. Barbaric!"

Reggie snorts. "What about this, then?"

It's a good thing she's tucked under his chin; he has no way of noticing as blood rushes into her cheeks. She bites her lip.

"Are you fishing for compliments, Peters?"

"Yeah! We deserve it. Congrats, Wilson."

Another genuine smile spreads over her face. She buries it in his chest, hugging him harder as she mumbles, "You, too."

No one pays them much mind as they unravel, preoccupied by the Molina's. Carrie's about to glide over to Julie when Reggie catches the sleeve of her gown.

He clears his throat, cheeks pinkening.

"Hey, I know everyone's going out for pizza, and you probably have other plans already anyway, but I was wondering—"

"I don’t," Carrie says awkwardly, cursing inwardly as he sends her a sideways look. "Have other plans. Any other plans. I—I don't care what everyone else is doing. I want to do whatever you're doing. Yes."

A sunny grin slowly blooms on his lips.

"Really? You don't even know what I was going to ask you to do. Could be bowling with aliens. Or an assassination plot. And I know it's a bit last minute to be asking."

Laughter bubbles out of her. "Really."

He holds his arm out, eyes sparkling.

"Then I guess it's a date. You can tell me all about your big aspirations while we're out killing aliens. It'll be fun, I promise."

And it is fun; the time practically flies.

So maybe her dad didn't show, but maybe it was for the best, because she doesn't have to explain why she was out all night.

Or why there's erased security footage.

#soft prompts #sort of in this case lol #jatp sweet tarts #reggie x carrie #ficlets with ash #julie and the phantoms #imo they were literally just kissing on the porch but Carrie would be mortified on the off chance that her dad saw it

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theboredwritertm · 3 years

Note

"Oh, darling, everybody sees how you look at him" fic request with Din/reader! (Please and thank you :3)

Everyone Knows

A/N: Another request done and dusted. I’ve been getting some new prompt lists ready for when I open requests back up again (not sure what tumblr etiquette is for compiling a masterlist using other people’s prompt-lists, but I’m considering doing something like that), but I still have about 4 or 5 fics to finish off before then!

Rating: PG?

Pairing: Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, a bit of alcohol, that’s about it.

Word Count: 4500 (Me, failing to keep a story under 2k words? It’s more likely than you think)

Summary: After taking on the krayt dragon together, you’re forced to confront your feelings for Din (with a little help from everyone’s favorite marshal).

***

The monster was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

There’d been times aboard the Crest, when there were still thousands of miles to go between stops, that you’d sit by Din, giving him your rapt attention as he’d recount one of his many stories about a particularly terrifying beast he’d encountered. Not that he would ever call them terrifying – the man had a will of steel when it came to facing these kinds of things. And on this occasion, in the middle of the Tatooine desert, things would prove no different.

Only this time he had you.

You were still coming into your abilities, not really sure what they meant or the true extent of what you were capable of, and amazingly enough you found you were learning a lot from watching the Child. For instance, before he came along, you had never known you could heal people. A simple experiment with Din had proven this to be true enough – the man was prone to injury in his line of work – and though it had taken a lot of concentration, enough that you were sweating by the end, it got you wondering just what other miracles your hands could perform.

Now, standing beside Din and the man who had introduced himself to you both as Cobb Vanth, you stared down into the dragon’s lair and found yourself hoping those powers might come in handy.

“So, how’re we drawin’ this thing out?” Cobb asks.

You glance back at the dozens of townsfolk and Tuskens around you, sensing their uneasiness as they shuffle from foot to foot and cast occasional apprehensive glances in the direction of the danger and you’re surprised to see a couple of the Raiders step forward. Considering how well their peoples’ last attempt to draw out the beast had gone, you hadn’t expected any of them to be so willing to approach the pit again.

Cobb glances over at them and cocks his head in immediate acceptance. Given his past troubles with their people, he can’t say he’s overly concerned over the prospect of losing a few more of them.

But you’ve never been one to stand by and watch people get hurt.

“No, wait.” The words leave your mouth automatically. Up until this point, you’d been feeling completely useless. Din had been keeping an even closer watch on you than usual since a stunt you had pulled back on Nevarro; one that had involved your unpredictable powers and the dozens of stormtroopers who’d had him cornered. Though he had come out of the situation a lot worse for wear than you had, he’d been hovering over you, keeping you a safe distance from any action ever since. You were starting to get sick of being kept on the sidelines. “I can do it,” you say.

The Tuskens turn to look back at you, not able to understand what you’ve said, but sensing a potential change of plans, then their attention is drawn to the Mandalorian beside you as he quickly dashes their hopes.

“No,” comes Din’s clear, expected response.

You turn to him. “I can handle this.”

“No. You’re staying where you are.”

You gaze at him for just a moment, anger starting to bubble in the pit of your stomach, before turning around and striding down the tall dune, towards the gaping mouth of the empty saarlac pit. You know better than to argue – you don’t have the time right now, but every time you did, he managed to use it as a way to distract you. You wouldn’t give him that opportunity now. You’d already made up your mind.

You feel the air stir as his hand shoots out to grab you, but you’re too quick; one of the things that’s managed to keep you alive this long, but now maybe the very thing that’s going to get you killed.

“Dank Farrik!”

Cobb glances between the man beside him and your retreating form, attempting to hold back a smirk. In the short couple of days that he’s known you both, he’s already witnessed at least three separate arguments, none of which seemed to get either of you anywhere. He didn’t see this one going the big guy’s way, either.

The modulator seems to amplify the frustration in Din’s voice, but you ignore it. You were more than capable of looking out for yourself, as you had proven to him numerous times now, and whatever problem he had with that was his own – you weren’t about to let his fears hold you back. Yet, as you draw closer to the yawning darkness, your heart begins to thud in your chest. For the first time, you feel the enormity of this creature, and you’ve never felt so small in your life.

You sense him approach before you hear him. That was one advantage you’d always had over Din; he could never sneak up on you.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m tired of watching everyone else do everything,” you say, finally coming to a stop, your gaze still trained forward, “I want to play my part. I need to play my part.”

“No, you need to stay safe.” His words sound threatening despite their context, but you ignore him once more. This time he does grab you, catching you around the forearm as you raise your hands in the direction of the cave. “Stop!”You’re tempted to use your powers to throw him off, but you can feel how much he means it and you’re struck with a sudden guilt. He cares. That’s all there is to it.

“Please, let me do this.” You stare up into his helmet and feel him gazing back, considering things. His fingers loosen from your wrist.

“Fine. But I’m staying with you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you reply, not bothering to hide your bitterness at the constant babysitting – though, if you’re being honest, you do feel better with him by your side.

You raise your hands again and close your eyes, focusing on the low hum of energy around you. You don’t feel it at first, but then its as if you’ve suddenly locked onto a connection – plugged yourself into an electric charge – and everything suddenly feels heightened. Everything feels more. You draw on from that, concentrating on the pit of darkness before you, then you push forward with your mind, reaching out. In the darkness, something stirs.

“What is it?” Din asks, as if he’s sensed the sudden change.

“I feel it,” you reply, eyes still closed, your brow now marked with a frown.

He stares down at you and you finally open your eyes to meet his gaze (as much as you can through the helmet) but before either of you can say anything, a low rumbling begins to emit from the ground.

It had worked.

And it was heading right for you.

You’ll admit that, as much you’d wanted to play your part in this, you hadn’t really considered what came next once you did manage to draw the thing out. So now, as you watch the sand shift and begin to rise a hundred or so feet in front of you, you find yourself rooted to the spot.

It’s Din who moves first.

Your hands had come up again, all you can think to do to hold the beast off, then suddenly a strong arm is wrapping around your waist and you’re being propelled into the air. You glance down just in time to see the enormous mouth erupt from the ground where you had just been standing.

This time, you don’t argue. You clutch onto him, air whipping through your hair, thankful that he’s just as stubborn as you are.

When you finally land, he sets you on your feet and quickly glances down to make sure you’re alright. You give him a quick nod, sensing the question in his gaze, and then he takes off again to rejoin the action. It takes you a moment to regain your balance, and you still feel the ghost of his arm around your waist, but when you glance back you find that he’s set you down by the landspeeder, with the Child. He’s put you back at the kids’ table.

You give a frustrated growl and the baby blinks curiously at you, eyes full of wonder. He’s just happy to be here, close to someone he likes. You offer a reassuring stroke over his little head, then turn to stalk back down the dunes; back towards the rest of the group whose lives apparently don’t mean as much to Din, since he’s more them happy for them to join in despite them having little-to-no fighting experience. You’re not about to sit back and watch them all die.

As the dragon bursts out of the sand once more, the Tuskens and townsfolk begin firing harpoons into its side – a desperate attempt to keep it in place – and you watch as it wrenches itself free with a simple shake of its body. There’s no way this plan is going to work.

When you arrive back by Din’s side, he simply looks at you, not even bothering to admonish you, knowing it’s not going to get him anywhere at this point anyway. But as you look at him, a silent warning to not push you aside again, he sees you’ve got that same look in your eyes now as you had back on Nevarro. And it worries him.

You move off together as a unit as the dragon begins its assault, firing with everything you’ve got to get its attention – in your case, your trusty blaster pistol – stopping only when it opens its jaws wide and proceeds to spit boiling acid down onto anyone within its reach. You watch in horror as people are disintegrated before your eyes.

A massive explosion beneath it distracts it long enough for any survivors to get clear of its path, and the creature suddenly dives.

You wait, watching for any sign that it’s coming back up, but the smoking landscape is silent and still. Yet, something doesn’t feel right.

“I don’t think it’s dead,” Cobb says, voicing your concern, and you exchange worried glances.

“Me neither,” Din replies. His grip tightens on his blaster, waiting.

Then suddenly, up on the mountain, the creature bursts forth once more. It opens its mouth wide and you glance down at the people in its path about to be annihilated. You can’t watch this happen again. Moving as fast as your feet can carry you, you rush down towards them, shoving them aside with a powerful force-push seconds before the acid hits the sand, clearing them of its path just in time – leaving you in a tricky predicament. You’ve caught its attention now – and you have nowhere to go.

You catch the sound of jetpacks as Cobb and Din land either side of you, weapons raised and ready to come to your defense.

“Get back!” Din barks at you, and you find you have no choice but to listen to him. Failing to do so now, even just to prove a point, and you’re certain you’d be the dragon’s next meal. You’d pick your hill to die on one day, but this just wasn’t it.

Din and Cobb take off into the air again, firing their weapons to draw the dragon’s attention away and give you time to escape. It works. The dragon, furious from the sudden new assault, turns and comes after them, spraying up sand as it whips its massive body in the new direction.

As you watch them draw it further away, you can’t help but wonder what the plan is, since the original one has long fallen apart. They can’t keep drawing it away forever. Now that you have minute to breath, you look around for a way to help, and spot the explosives-laden bantha that had been led down as bait. It looks like it would rather be anywhere else and, hell, you don’t blame it, but glancing between it and the massive monster that currently has its sights set on the one man who never failed to put himself in the path of danger for you, you think maybe it was time to return the favor and finish this once and for all.

So, you grab the bellowing, hairy animal by its halter and do something stupid.

You start yelling. And waving your arms. And when that fails to grab the dragon’s attention, you start firing your weapon. Taking your odd behavior as some kind of cue, the townsfolk closest to you begin firing, too, and finally the dragon turns to face this latest assault, drawn to the movement of your waving arms and the scent wafting from the bantha.

You spot the two armored men, now free of the dragon’s attention, flying up from the mountain before one in particular makes a sudden beeline in your direction. You can practically feel Din’s wrath radiating off of him before he even gets close, and it’s like the bantha can, too, as it begins to protest and pull against its rope. Or maybe it’s the giant monster coming to swallow it whole that has it so skittish. Either way, you feel like an ass as you try to calm it down, knowing the only reason you’re doing so is to keep it in place long enough to be eaten.

You’re grateful to have the marshal land behind you first as Din drops down in front, poised to lose his absolute mind at you for your reckless behavior, but finding the situation momentarily put on-hold as Cobb asks to no one in particular, “Now what?”

Din’s staring at you, gaze heavy, burning, and humiliating all in one, but he doesn’t have time to berate you as the dragon breaks from a nearby dune. “I have an idea,” he says, and before either you or Cobb can ask what that is, he shoves you into the marshal’s arms and sets off the man’s jetpack, sending you both careening up and away from the dragon’s path – and leaving him right in the middle of it.

You had come to suspect that you were in pretty deep with Din Djarin, ever since he had first rescued you many years ago, but watching him disappear into the enormous jaws of the krayt dragon was a lesson you had never asked for in how you really felt about him. Even as everyone around you falls into a stunned silence, your ears begin to buzz and you have to fight to keep your footing, absently leaning against Cobb for support as the energy drains from your legs. Cobb reaches for you but misses as you collapse down onto the sand by his feet. Your throat starts to tighten. Everything feels hazy.

This can’t be it. This can’t be the way it happens.

Then the beast erupts from the sand once more and you spot a familiar shape fly out of its roaring mouth.

Your heart leaps into your throat. Suddenly, you can breathe again. Then you’re back on your feet and racing towards him.

The huge blast that follows knocks you back and you hold an arm across your eyes to protect them from the cloud of sand billowing from the site of the explosion, but even that’s not enough to stop you as you keep your sights trained on the metal armor glistening in the hot sun.

When you finally reach Din, you stand for a moment looking at him, then a sound escapes you halfway between a sob and shout, and you shove him – hard. He stumbles backwards but remains on his feet.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You don’t think you’ve ever been this angry in your life. Fury radiates from every cell in your body, and still Din just stares at you. Then you hug him. Neither of you are expecting it, and his body stiffens immediately in surprise, but when you feel him relax and one of his arms comes up to wrap around you in return, everything suddenly feels right again. You couldn’t care less that he’s covered in gross dragon goo and that it’s probably getting all over your clothes, or that there’s a crowd of onlookers witnessing this moment between you – all you care about is the fact that he’s here, that he’s still alive.

A cheer erupts behind you as you part, and it’s not for you and Din, but for the smoking remains of the dragon nearby, and it’s soon joined by the howls of the Tuskens as they raise their weapons in victory.

It’s over. It’s done. And as you look up at Din, you can think of many things worth celebrating.

***

And celebrate, you do.

As much as he had wanted to make a quiet exit once he had collected his promised armor from Cobb, you had managed to convince Din to stay in Mos Pelgo just a little longer for the revelries. It had been a long time since you’d stayed anywhere close to civilization, let alone had a good reason to celebrate; and though you’d grown used to the comfortable silence of the Razor Crest, there’s some comfort in being surrounded by happy, chattering people for once, instead of the lonely vacuum of space.

Cobb had asked you back personally for a couple of drinks at the bar, and though the invitation had been extended to both of you, Din had failed to take it that way. In hindsight, you suppose your initial run-in with Cobb is to blame for this sudden standoffish behavior, since your contribution to convincing the man to hand over the beskar had involved you telling him that the helmet was ‘a waste on a face like his’. You guess that comment hadn’t sat too well with Din, but it had just sort of slipped out. What could you say? The guy was a looker. Yet even now, as Cobb glances over at your table from the bar, offering a warm, friendly smile in your direction, you find yourself distracted.

You look around and finally spot Din. He’d been radiating quiet irritation since arriving back, and stands now in the furthest corner of the room, watching the festivities with what you imagined was a sulky expression beneath the helmet. The Child sits by his feet, on the sandy floor, playing with something round and shiny, completely absorbed in his own little world.

“I take it Mandalorian’s aren’t much for parties,” Cobb comments as he finally reaches your side with drinks, breaking you from you trance. He sits down beside you and slides one of the glasses of bright-blue liquid your way.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He nods over towards Din whose gaze is currently burning into you, and you shift uncomfortably trying to find somewhere else to direct your attention, unsure why you don’t just look at Cobb. You realize why when your eyes shift back to him and the feeling of being watched intensifies.

“Him?” you reply, trying to sound casual, now hyperaware that Din is currently reading every detail of this interaction, “Oh, he usually just prefers the quiet, you know? Not really the social type. He’s only here because I asked.”

“Just watching over his girl, huh?” Cobb teases, taking a swig of his spotchka.

“His gir—What are talking about?”

He frowns before giving you a knowing look, then risks a quick, pointed glance towards Din, who he’s noticed hasn’t turned his gaze away from you for longer than a few seconds the entire evening.

“We’re just friends,” you tell him, even if that label doesn’t feel quite right to you. “It’s not like that.” You take a mouthful of drink just to give yourself something to do, and wince at the unexpected bitterness. When you glance back over at Din, your cheeks heat up a little when you realize he’s still looking back. You finally drop your gaze away, reassuring yourself that the weird feeling you’ve suddenly gotten in your stomach is just the alcohol taking affect, but when you look back at Cobb you catch him smirking at you.

“We’re friends,” you repeat, wondering who you’re trying to convince now, since Cobb seems pretty damn decided on the matter. “Colleagues, you know. We’ve just been through a lot together.” You frown as he chuckles. “What?”

“I did not just spend two days listening to the two of you bicker like an old married couple, to hear you say that you two are ‘just friends’.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I guess I just don’t look at him that way.”

“Oh, darlin’, everybody sees how you look at him.”

You think back to the desert, to your arms wrapping around him like he might disappear again at any moment; to the arm that had pulled you closer and squeezed you in return.

You take another gulp of spotchka to calm the fluttering feeling in your belly, and shoot a quick glance over to see if he’s still looking at you.

But he’s gone.

Panic floods over you.

You look around the room, hoping you don’t look as desperate as you suddenly feel, when Cobb nudges you. You look back at him and he nods to the door, where you just manage to catch a flash of cape and armor and Din disappears through it into the night.

Cobb smiles. “Go on. Go talk to the guy. I’ll still be here if you want another drink. If not, I hope we meet again someday.” He tips his glass towards you and you nod, managing a brief smile of appreciation as you stand.

Your legs feel heavy as you walk towards the exit. It’s dark outside – almost pitch black aside from a scattering of light coming through a few windows, and the few fires burning outside to keep people warm on the cold desert night – and you breathe a sigh of relief as you spot Din still standing out on the road. It looks like the kid is giving him some trouble, his fussy cries reaching your ears easily in the quiet. He settles as soon as he sees you, though, and Din turns to see what has the ability to calm him so quickly.

Of course, it’s you, he thinks. He should have known – you have the same effect on him.

“Hey,” you greet, still fighting back these unexplained nerves as you approach him. You’d known him for years, spent a lot of time in his company, and been through a lot together, but it’s the first time you feel nervous around him.

“Hey,” he replies simply, “I was just heading to take him back to the ship.” He pauses like he’s weighing up what he wants to say next, then adds, “When should I expect you back?”

“Back?”

“I can meet you there in the morning if that’s more suitable.”

He’s acting weird, and though you know exactly why, you can’t help but frown at the bitterness in his tone. He’s trying to keep it cool and calm around the kid. You wonder what he’d be saying instead if it was just the two of you.

“Why would you do that? Why would—” You hate what he’s implying, but you need him to say it, to admit why it’s a problem for him – to know if Cobb’s right. “Where am I supposed to be in all of this?”

You stare at him, the question written on your furrowed brow, wondering if he has the guts to admit the accusation outright.

He looks back towards the bar and then back at you, cocking his helmet as if he’s expecting you to be the one to make the confession, even if there is a low rage bubbling away inside of him at the thought of it. He thinks back to the desert, to the feeling of your arms wrapped around him, to the way his own arm had come up instinctually to hold you closer, and he thinks of how much he wants that again.

“I’m coming back to the ship,” you tell him.

“Don’t do that on my account,” he replies, and you swear he says things like that just to piss you off.

Before you can formulate a response, he turns away and starts walking towards his borrowed landspeeder. The Child looks back at you over his shoulder and stretches his little arms towards you with a cry, but Din ignores it.

You almost shout his name, forgetting for a moment where you are, and instead splutter out an awkward ‘Mando!’, which you haven’t called him in over a year; not since he entrusted you with his true name. He stops and slowly turns back. By now the kid is wriggling and fussing so much in his arms that he has to put him down, and the little one immediately heads towards you, reaching up to be held. You scoop him up and Din watches as the kid coos happily and buries his face in your hair. He’d thought they were leaving without you, Din realizes, and he can’t help but wonder if the kid’s picked up on his own emotions too – at his own distress at the thought of leaving you behind.

He watches you for a moment as you soothe the Child, observing the tender way you fuss over him, and feels guilt start to creep over him.

“I am doing it on your account,” you tell him firmly, after a moment, finally looking back at him again, and his helmet tilts slightly as he stares back at you. You screw up your face like you hate the idea of having to say the next words out loud, but you do anyway for his sake. “I’m not interested in the marshal.”

He makes a non-committal noise like he either doesn’t believe you or he’s pretending it’s not a big deal, and you roll your eyes, turning your attention back to the kid.

You wonder what you can say, how you’re going to make him understand what you’re feeling, because you can’t go back to the ship like this – things can’t just keep on going how they have been, with the arguments and all these unspoken words that are causing them. So, you step forward, closing the gap between the two of you as you rest a hand against his chest plate to get his attention.

Din stares down at you, heart thumping as he tries to read your expression and figure out what you’re going to say before you say it, hoping he’ll be less caught off guard this way.

You reach up to the back of his helmet, guiding him down towards you, muttering, “Come here, you idiot.” Then you press your forehead to the cold beskar of his helmet and find a way to tell him.

“Where you go, I go.”

He seems to understand that well enough.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #mando x reader #fic requests #cobb vanth #din djarin #din djarin imagines

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atsukashii · 3 years

Text

❝cold showers❞ // atsumu miya

➛ SYNOPSIS: all hell breaks loose when your boyfriend takes it upon himself to use all the hot water in the middle of winter.

» CHARACTER PAIRING: atsumu miya x reader

» WORD COUNT: 1.8k

» GENRE: post time- skip, aged up characters, MSBY time period

» WARNINGS: kinda suggestive (17+), and just some self indulgent domestic chaos that no one asked for

« masterlist || ao3 »

“Atsumu!” Your shriek echoes loudly off your bathroom walls as the water you have been previously standing under rapidly changes from a relaxing warmth to rival that of arctic temperatures.

It takes your boyfriend only seconds to leave his place on the couch where he had been watching reruns of his latest match to practically kick down the bathroom door.

“Sweetheart? What happened?!” The concern in his voice on another day would have melted you into a useless puddle, but right now you are freezing your ass off because of him - so you only defrosted ever so slightly. Once his brown eyes meet your own through the steam that’s quickly slipping out through the open doorway, you want to growl as his eyes distractedly lower from your face as his brain catches up with what he just walked in on.

With a scoff of frustration, you grab your towel off the rack placed next to the shower and quickly cover yourself in an attempt to keep your boyfriends attention. “Atsumu.”

“Yes?” his eyes are still glued to your towel and you rest a hand on your hip as the other clutched tightly to the top of your towel. It’s not like you’re embarrassed to be seen as naked as the day you were born by your boyfriend, as you’ve been dating for years and it wasn’t the first time this had happened. You just wanted all of his attention so you could see the fear of God in his eyes as you kill him.

“You used all the hot water,” You growl out, and maybe it’s the anger in your tone that forces his warm gaze back to your face. “Again.” you finish for good measure. Because this was the third time this had happened this week, and it was Thursday. Running a hand through his blonde locks, you refuse to let your eyes stray to the way his biceps bulge at the movement. It was a tactical move on his behalf, one you both recognize as a way to lessen the blow of your frustration, but it wasn’t going to work this time.

“Sweetheart, I thought something bad had happened.” Atsumu sighs, resting his weight against the now open doorway realizing that his attempt to sway you from anger is in vain.

“Oh trust me something bad did happen. I was halfway through washing my hair when all the hot water suddenly disappeared. Care to share why that would be Atsumu?” You interrogate and the asshole has the audacity to flash his panty-dropper smirk at you, which proceeds in just pissing you off more.

“I had a gruelling practice today so I treated myself to a spa treatment.”

“I swear to god if you used one of my fancy face masks…” You groan, trodding your sopping wet feet towards the sink, where you open the cabinets. Reaching in you rip out the box of the fancy face masks that your friend had bought you for your birthday and begin to count them. To be honest, you wouldn’t really care if he used one. In fact, on any bad days that you have, your boyfriend takes it upon himself to give you both DIY self-care of facemasks and wine on the couch. This time though, you know you’re being petty, but you can’t help it. Your hair is still full of conditioner, there’s no hot water left, it’s winter and you’re freezing cold. Letting out a sigh you close the cabinet closed and turn on the faucet for the sink, deciding to try and rinse out the rest of the conditioner in the sink rather than getting back in the hellish shower.

“You know there’s a way to get around this hot water situation right?” Atsumu finally speaks up as he watches you begin to rid the conditioner from your hair. Your eyes close as you shove your head under the faucet and use both hands to try and quickly get the conditioner out as fast as possible.

“And what’s what Atsumu.” You reply, exhausted with the conversation and the whole day. You just want this out of your hair so you can make yourself into a blanket burrito on the couch and watch your favorite show in peace.

“It’s simple, we just shower together. Can you please stop calling me Atsumu? It’s wiggin’ me out sweetheart” You pause your actions and raise your head to look through the mirror at his pouting face. He’s dead serious, you know it, but there’s a teasing glint in his eyes that light up something in your chest. Come on sweetheart, bite back, his eyes seem to say. Normally you would, but instead, you just glare at his stupidly attractive face before bending back down to finishing rinsing your hair. You both stay in silence as you finish up before purposely grabbing his towel off the drying rack on the wall and using it to quickly somewhat dry your hair, all along making a conscious decision to have your back facing your boyfriend. It’s only when you put the towel back and turn to face him do you notice his child-like pout.

“I’m sorry sweetheart…” no he’s not. He lowers his eyebrows and looks at you through his long lashes, practically batting his eyes at you and you sweat to god there are stars shooting from his eyes.

“No, you’re not. Seriously Tsumu, if you want to take a shower that’s longer than twenty minutes then shower at the gym.” As you watch the smile rapidly begin to pull across your boyfriend’s lips, you doubt he actually heard it. Fine then, drastic times call for even more dramatic measures. Quickly, you turn back to the shower and grab the shower hose from the wall before spinning back on Atsumu.

“No more long showers.” His eyes drag back down your frame, his head nodding absentmindedly whilst fire blazes to life in his eyes. You know exactly what he’s thinking and there’s no way in hell that’s going to happen right now. So this time, not bothering to speak to try and gain his attention once more, you don’t hesitate to reach out and turn the nozzle on, unleashing a blast of frigid water right into Atsumu’s face. The ear ringing shriek that leaves his mouth has you bursting into laughter and making you wish you’d been recording the event. Turning off the nozzle between your bubbles of laughter, you eye Atsumu as he wipes the water from his face with a deadly calm. But once his eyes open and he sees your laughing form, all the tension in his shoulders fades until he’s smirking too.

“You think that’s funny gorgeous?” He asks, taking a step towards you.

“Hilarious. How’s the temperature TsumTsum?” You laugh teasingly as he takes another predatory step towards you.

“Fucking cold and you know it.” He sees your hand slowly reaching towards the nozzle and freezes in his place. “You wouldn’t.” Atsumu’s eyes narrow as you bite your lip to hold in another laugh as you see the torn expression of wanting to get you back but also wanting to get the hell out of there.

“Oh I so would,” You reply with a laugh as you turn on the water once more, completely soaking your boyfriend as he darts forward to drag the showerhead out of your hands. “Tsumu no!” You cry out as he joins you in the shower trying to pry the metal from your hands whilst also being blasted in the face. “Let go you demon!” he tries to say seriously but bursts into laughter at the end when your constant tug of war on the showerhead earns you a blast of water to the face. It’s not until Atsumu reaches behind you to turn off the water do you feel your legs slipping from underneath you. The second you feel yourself falling, there are steady arms behind your back and honey brown eyes right above your own.

“Oh god,” You exhale, the breath rushing out of your lungs as adrenaline pumps through your body at the feeling of slipping. You don’t even feel the cold water blasting across your legs from where you both dropped the showerhead, instead you find yourself smiling up at Atsumu.

“Actually my name’s Atsumu, but sure I can answer to God too. Anything for you gorgeous” The moment breaks as your boyfriend smirks at you with complete seriousness.

“That was so lame. Now let me go you big oaf.” You say trying to keep the laugh threatening to bubble out of your lips, trapped inside your throat.

“Lame? Lame? Wanna repeat that sweetheart?” Atsumu laughs as he releases you, only to catch you again a few inches from the floor.

“Tsumu!” You howl, clutching your boyfriend’s sopping shirt in your fists so even if he chooses to, he can’t drop you. He tries it again, but you cling to him like a spider monkey. His amusement floods the room and you glare up at your boyfriend.

“It’s not funny.” Your attempt to argue is pathetic considering you’re trying not to laugh, and he can tell. It’s only at that moment, standing in the shower soaking wet in your towel and hanging of your equally as soaked boyfriend, do you finally feel the biting chill in the air. “We’re going to catch colds standing here.” Atsumu’s teasing expression morphs into something so beautifully soft that your heart flutters against your ribs.

“You mean to say that if we stand here for longer, it’ll result in you being my nurse for a while. Can’t say I don’t like the thought sweetheart.” Although his words are taunting, his eyes are serious as they train on your own. Slowly as if to make it even more tortuous, his breath fans across your lips and suddenly you can’t remember what you had even been mad about earlier. As his mouth finally brushes against yours, the air leaves your lungs at the nagging tingle that jumps to life on your spine. It’s only a gentle kiss, one that lingers for but a moment before falling away, but that doesn’t mean it makes your heart race any less. “Wanna watch a movie? I made dinner,” He asks as he pulls away, but not quite letting you go.

Raising your eyebrows, you call out your boyfriends shit right there. “You made dinner?” It’s no secret Atsumu can’t cook, considering he almost lived off craft mac and cheese for three days when you had to take a trip out of town. With an over-exaggerated groan, Atsumu slips from the shower stall, stripping out of his wet shirt before reaching into a cupboard and grabbing two dry towels.

“Okay I didn’t personally make it, but someone with my face did.” meaning Osamu.

“Oh good real food.” You grin, snatching the free towel out of Atsumu’s hands before quickly exchanging your wet one for the new one. “Can you heat it up whilst I change?” You feel Atsumu’s gaze follow you as you walk out of the bathroom and towards your shared bedroom.

“Need help with that?”

“Not since you made me have a freezing shower I don’t. Use all the hot water again and your new residence will be the couch, at Osamu’s apartment.” You call back over your shoulder as you raid your dresser for some warm clothes. As you change, you’re trying not to laugh as Atsumu’s muffled voice sounds up the hallway.

“Shorter showers? I can sooo do that.”

#atsumi miya #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu fic

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0risha · 3 years

Text

affiliation.

PAIRING : gojo x fem!reader

SUMMARY : due to the actions of your now ex-lover, getou suguru, your future of becoming a sorcerer is no more and now it's time to say your goodbyes.

TAGS : angst, comfort, unrequited pining, a curse word or two, contains slight manga spoilers so proceed with caution. reader is described as a female?? reader has curly hair

NOTES : this has been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute, hope you enjoy!

Terminated. Terminated? Your first reaction is to cackle, to laugh at the faces that stare right back at you with leering eyes. But the only thing you can choke out is an, "you can’t be serious?”

Your voice raises several octaves higher than normal and your face is etched with the expression of pure, refined disbelief. Choosing to scan the faces that sit at the circular table shrouded in a low cloud of darkness —which sets the mood in an eerie cinematic way— you find sneered lips and mock smiles.

"Correct, your third year at Jujutsu tech is ending in a week, you can decide for yourself to stay or leave during that remaining time, your choice. Any objections?"

“You’re terminating my contract to become a sorcerer for some incident I wasn’t even involved in?” You internally wince at your dismissive tone because you know that the so-called was not just some incident. It had torn both Getou and Gojo into unsalvageable pieces, thrown towards the deep sea. Getou’s own so bottomless that he had gone on a murdering spree.

One that the higher-ups were blaming you for because as his significant other you should have been the one to stop him. Which —at the start— you thought was so incredibly far fetched but as you pondered past actions you couldn't help but think otherwise.

A lasso of anger —your own— is cracked against the confining walls of the conference room. You think they can feel it, no, you know they can feel the spiked level your cursed energy has entered and Gojo can feel it too because he's bursting through the conference room door, grabbing your arm and hauling ass before you can retaliate.

By the time you're met with a blue sky and the sun's gaze, you have to blink multiple times. One, to become accustomed to the befallen light, and two, to snap out of your stupor.

In your crestfallen state, Gojo takes his time to scan your face. He basks in the way the sliver of the sun causes your skin to glow and the way your slightly pointed nose scrunches up in anger.

In reverence, he skims through his shared memories with you. The start of it all, when you waltzed through Jujutsu Tech with survivor’s guilt so intense that he and the other first-years could feel it. The result of your parents dying in a freak accident, which so happened to be the day you had started to see curses.

When you snap out of it, you’re met with the sight of electric blue eyes. Ones that shine with an intense shade of worry. And it’s a jubilee because the Gojo Satoru is worried. You’d never seen him in this state, ever. In your state of surprise, your eyes flicker from Gojo’s to a pair of colored onyx.

He remembers your closed-off demeanor that he and Shoko decided to slowly shave off and the way you gravitated towards Getou more than he saw fit and oh gosh, why did it have to be him? He knows that now as a third-year you have no fundamental reason to be in Japan but he can't help but to think selfishly —stay with me.

Because now, after making the selfish decision of not killing his best friend, he's not too sure where the lines of coincidences might meet.

Megumi. I have to leave Megumi.

“Megumi! I didn’t even know you were here!” You smile and pat his tufts of dark hair that fell in all sorts of different directions.

“You’ve always been so quiet,” you whisper, crouching down to his height as his colored eyes rapidly flutter shut. Although, not being a fan of Gojo or anyone for that matter. Megumi showed signs of slight attachment towards you. Ranging from returned hugs, and shared giggles here and there. The young boy never had a way with words and physical touch, but from time to time he seemed to enjoy your presence.

The mere thought of having to leave him causes your chest to ache as you stand up from your kneeling position to, again, staring at the clouded sky in the distance. But there was no other resolution, you had to leave Japan.

In your half-decade of being situated in the bustling streets of Tokyo, you’d grown accustomed to every aspect of the city. You’d made so many bonds. One’s that in a week would be snipped by the scissors of a very cruel fate.

There was Shoko, a cigarette-addicted teenager that acted more like a nagging mother than a friend.

Gojo, who had been injected with a childlike aura since birth and acted more like a fussy toddler than the strongest sorcerer there is.

And Getou, the man your heart mistakenly bled for. He was always such a serious person, even behind closed doors but you never doubted that he loved you. He always chose to express his partiality through gasoline-filled words, ones that you digested and had caused your chest to burst with licking flames of devotion.

Getou, the same man that had caused you to land in this mess. Albeit, the expulsion of what was supposed to be your future position, you couldn’t find it in you to be angry. Only feeling crashing tides of guilt.

“Not your fault, it’s not your fault.” You're pulled from your thoughts to feel calloused hands attached to your cheeks that are surprisingly wet with your tears.

Through your blurred vision, you see Gojo’s bright eyes staring into your very own. Megumi’s looking at you with riddled curiosity, you’re sure it’s because he’s never seen you actually cry before but you can’t find it in you to not put your pride aside. And when that layer of chain mail is finally cracked in half, Gojo’s there to shield you. In a split second, he’s bringing you into a gravity-defying hug while you sob into his chest, all while the jut of his chin lays on top of your mass of curls. A bubble of his piney, masculine scent envelopes you all while you taste the salty tears that fall on your lips as you gargle out apologies.

“I’m sorry, th- that- I couldn’t do anything,” you hiccup.

“It’s not your fault,” he reassures you and he says it with so much intensity that at least a billion of your nerves transmit the message of truth to your brain.

“No one could’ve known.. for fucks sake, I didn’t even know.” Gojo reminisces, not for the fact that Getou had become a wanted sorcerer but because of that, you had to face the brute consequences.

But to you, His hushed words are a slap to the face because...

Gojo must be hurting too.

Getou was his best friend, his partner through life and death situations but here you were babbling like a baby.

As soon as your body tenses up and your joints spring to pull your head off his chest, Gojo pulls you even closer, almost as if he can read your thoughts.

So, the only thing you can hope for is that while both of you embrace, Gojo’s getting enough comfort to tend to his aching wounds.

"They terminated your contract, eh? You want me to kill them for ya?" Your response is a hearty chuckle, one that stops as soon as it starts because he's serious. And you can tell. Your body itches in the worst possible way as his killing intent leaks out from his crackling hearth. As detected, Megumi grumbles and shifts his feet as he pulls on your skirt.

"Don't be stupid," you whisper as you pull away from his chest and face Megumi to grab his small hand. "Let's go home and see your sister, okay?"

back to m.list

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjkmag

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sage-nebula · 3 years

Note

Ah... not to be that person but if you continuously play a no-mercy route, Chara urges you to seek a new path. They're with you in the pacifist route, too. You save them in Asriel's fight. They didn't abuse Asriel - They were both 9, 10, and doing something scary. Chara is a kid who's done some wrong things but they're not a killer unless you make them one.

I really hate to burst your bubble, but you did not say a single thing that is actually true in accordance with actual Undertale canon instead of fanon. I'll break it down piece by piece.

If you continuously play a genocide route Chara urges you to seek a new path.

Yes, but also no. Chara doesn't urge you to seek a different path; rather, they express confusion as to why you want to do this over and over again—and more specifically, why you have this "perverted sentimentality" for this world, why you care about it, why you want to keep it around. They outright state this if you refuse to destroy it after a second genocide run.

It is NOT the desire to murder that Chara doesn't understand. That they understand, because they have it too, and that made them think that you and they were similar at first. It is the desire to recreate the world that they don't understand. It's the refusal to destroy the world after yet another genocide run that they don't understand. The world is empty. There is no one in it. Yet you want to keep it around. That's perverted sentimentality, in their eyes. That's what they can't understand. Chara doesn't "urge you to choose a new path" because they don't want to slaughter; they continue to encourage you to murder and urge you not to proceed if you don't meet quota on each and every subsequent genocide run:

But the fact that you keep recreating the world, and the fact that you try to refuse to destroy it (try, because they do it anyway) . . . that's what they don't get or approve of.

(All above screenshots courtesy of NoChocolate.)

They're with you in the pacifist route, too.

It's a commonly held belief that they're the narrator in the pacifist route, yes, although they don't actually have any power there because no murders happen (/therefore no murders happen because Chara doesn’t have power to do murders themself, since they only get power to do murders themself after the player does murders first). As I said in the original post, the player has to initiate the genocide route and carry out most of the murders. Chara and the player are PARTNERS; Chara encourages the player and keeps track of their kill count, and only has enough power to kill on their own at the very end (when they kill Sans, Asgore, and Flowey). Chara wants the player to murder, is ready and raring to go if they're going to do it, but if the player doesn't meet quota at any point in the genocide route (or spares a boss etc), the route ends and Chara gives up on it. That the player has to give Chara power by carrying out most of the murders doesn't change the fact that Chara is very much on board while the murders are happening.

You save them in Asriel's fight.

Nope, that's Asriel you're saving. I know a lot of people got confused about this for some reason, but the "one more person you have to save" is Asriel, given that he's in the midst of an emotional breakdown during that fight. You save him, not the ghost of the kid who got him killed.

They didn't abuse Asriel - They were both 9, 10, and doing something scary.

I hate to break this to you, but kids abuse other kids all the time, though usually it's not called abuse. Usually it's called bullying. Even so, what Chara did to Asriel in the True Lab tapes carries all the hallmarks of emotional abuse. As a very quick run through off the top of my head:

— When Chara brings up how they and Asriel accidentally poisoned Asgore with the buttercups, Asriel mentions how scary it was, but also how Chara "laughed it off." Asriel adds that he should have laughed it off like Chara did, implying that he was far more upset but also that Chara has made him feel bad for being so upset, trivializing his feelings.

— Going along with this, at one point in the tapes (in fact I believe in that same conversation) Chara asks Asriel if he's crying. Asriel's reaction is, "N-No, I'm not crying! Big kids don't cry . . ." implying that Chara has shamed Asriel for crying before. Going along with this, Asriel at another point says, "I always was a crybaby, wasn't I, Chara?" implying Chara has called him a crybaby before. Shaming someone for crying / feeling bad (especially in the face of a traumatic incident like poisoning one's own father) and calling them names is emotional abuse.

— When Asriel tells Chara that he doesn't like the buttercup plan, Chara demands to know if Asriel is doubting them. We know, because Asriel says, "No! I'd never doubt you, Chara . . . never!" Instead of actually listening to Asriel and taking his feelings into account, Chara makes Asriel feel bad for having those feelings or thoughts at all and accuses Asriel of doubting them. This is emotional manipulation and abuse.

While these are only small glimpses given to us by the True Lab tapes, these are also the only glimpses given to us of their relationship, and every single one of them is an abusive behavior. The fact that these abusive behaviors culminated in their deaths, and that Asriel himself says that he wishes that he’d had a friend like Frisk when he was alive and that Chara wasn’t the greatest person further backs up that Chara abused Asriel by shaming and manipulating him into the buttercup plan. And as a final note on that, the “something scary” you’re referencing was entirely Chara’s idea, which they pushed Asriel into. It wasn’t like they suddenly found themselves in a scary situation; in fact, the only one who was actually scared was Asriel, and Chara is the one who made him feel bad about feeling that way.

For further reading on Chara’s abuse of Asriel, I really recommend this meta essay. It goes into heavy detail with referenced sources on abusive behaviors and the behaviors of abuse victims, and I really recommend it.

Chara is a kid who's done some wrong things but they're not a killer unless you make them one.

Chara is a child, and they’ve definitely done wrong things (abusing Asriel, attempting to slaughter a village of humans, later on murdering Sans, Asgore, and Flowey, and then destroying the world) — but they were a killer prior to their death, as Asriel tells us himself:

(Screenshot edit courtesy of NoChocolate.)

If you’ll recall, when Charasriel was seen carrying Chara’s dead body into the village of humans, the humans—understandably terrified and upset—attacked. Since Chara came from this village (and had a working brain), they had to have known that the sight of a humongous monster carrying a dead child would prompt the humans to attack. In other words, they picked that fight. They then wanted to use the power they had since fusing with Asriel to slaughter the village of humans. The only reason they weren’t able to commit any murders was because Asriel refused. So the idea that Chara only gained bloodlust because of the player’s actions is demonstrably false when Asriel’s words at the end of True Pacifist are taken into account. Chara always wanted to murder. Chara committed suicide with the intention of fusing with Asriel and then using that power to commit murder because they—again in Asriel’s words at the end of True Pacifist—hated humanity. It was Asriel’s refusal that made that plan fail, which Chara punishes him for by brutally murdering him at the end of the genocide route.

So all in all, you seem to be operating on a fanon idea of Chara, which is that Chara was an innocent child who was manipulated into what they did. In truth, the only innocent children that are manipulated / forced into murder in Undertale are Asriel (because his actions as Flowey directly stem from the emotional abuse that Chara doled out on him while alive / until his death) and Frisk (who is the one actually forced to do the stabbings throughout the genocide route). While Chara doesn’t have the power to murder before the very end of the genocide route (and only gain that power because you, the player, choose to start and continue that route and force Frisk into stabbing every monster you come across), they encourage and help you as much as they can until they have the power to take Frisk’s body for their own. The only thing they question is why you’d have any sentimental attachment to the world at all, but provided you don’t let that “perverted sentimentality” get in the way of erasing said world, Chara thinks you’re a great partner.

(Screenshot courtesy of NoChocolate.)

#undertale #meta #long post for ts #chara #the player is not innocent at all #but neither is Chara #i don't know why people still believe in 2021 that it has to be either-or #when the answer is very obviously *both*#my best guess is that people are resistant to the idea that a child could be a humanity hating abusive murderer #and if we were talking about REAL children I would agree #(on the humanity hating murderer part. real children do abuse their peers thru bullying every day)#but Chara is not a real child. Chara is a FICTIONAL child in a FICTIONAL story filled with monsters & magic #a REAL child would not be a humanity hating murderer but a FICTIONAL child very well could be #because it's a made up story and in make believe land you can have anything you want from goat moms to murderous children #if you wouldn't want that in your story that's fine! but Toby Fox clearly wanted that in his #and thus we have Undertale #if you don't like it . . . that's unfortunate #but it's the way it is nonetheless

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 3 years

Text

End of the Tunnel: XI

Description: It’s almost been a year since Freed Weasley was lost to the Battle of Hogwarts, and for George Weasley it might as well be an eternity. He is lost in the dark, no color to be found. Until suddenly there might be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Warnings: a lil angst, fluff, language, and quick batch of public smut

MASTERLIST

***

It took them both a few days to fall back into the comfortable pattern they had once had.

George gained the habit of staring guiltily across the dinnertable while she sipped her tea. He softly flinched every time she touched him, apologizing when he eyes widened and lips parted to form her own apology. And while he longed to hold her in his sleep, he couldn’t bring himself to pull her into his arms without feeling like an imposter.

Hannah was fairing no better. While reading the paper she would glance at George, if only to check that he wasn’t glaring at her. She jumped whenever he walked into the room, worried that the accusations would soon follow. Every time she considered doing something nice she fretted, worried that he would look and see an off brand Fred wandering around their kitchen. And god, she wished he would hold her in his sleep, it was so terribly difficult to sleep without his arms holding her tight.

It had been a week since Hannah had come home, and they were eating dinner. She was trying to read the paper, but the feeling of George’s guilty eyes left her illiterate. Finally, in exhaustion, she slammed the paper down on the table and marched into the bathroom. She was going to fix this, she had to fix this, or damn it she was going to go crazy. After a quick pep talk that mostly involved deep breaths between each wave of panic, she returned to the kitchen.

“George, we’re going out.”

“What?”

“I’m not kidding, we’re going to go out, meet friends, and get absolutely plastered. I don’t care who you invite, but we’re going out before one of us explodes.”

“Hannah, I don’t-.”

“Tell me going nowhere but work and here have not driven you crazy, and we won’t. Tell me that the tension in this room isn’t killing you, and we won’t.” She tapped her foot on the floor as she waited for his response, and the grin she had missed so much spread across his face.

“Only if you wear the black dress.” She grinned and practically leaped over the table as she hugged him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before dashing towards the bathroom to get ready. With a smile that almost felt foreign he pulled out a pair of clean pants and shirt before ringing up Ron and Hermione.

To say Ron was surprised was an understatement but they quickly agreed.

“Draco will probably be there,” George warned and there was a pause on the other end of the line. He could hear hushed whispers on the other end of the line, most likely a small argument between Ron and Hermione.

“I’ll behave,” he said before pausing, surely waiting for Hermione to leave before adding, “as long as he does.” George chuckled and promised he would, praying that he was right. He hung up after telling Ron to meet them out front of the shop in half an hour.

“Mind if I use the phone, handsome?” came a soft purr from behind him, and when he turned, he remembered why he liked that dress so much. He kissed her before handing her the landline. “I want to invite Draco and Sloane, if that’s okay?”

“You said invite friends.” She grinned before dialing the phone.

“Hey, Sloane?” she began, pausing as her friend rattled on, full of bubbly excitement, “Yeah, yeah of course. Hey, get ready for a night out, grab Draco, and meet us outside George’s store in half an hour.” George could hear the squeal from where he was standing a few feet away. Hannah held the phone away from ear as she said goodbye, hanging up as the squeals ended. George leaned against the kitchen table, watching as Hannah practically burst with excitement. She stared at him for a moment before shuffling closer with a sly grin.

“What?” he asked but she didn’t say anything, only moved closer until she was positioned between his legs. She blinked innocently before guiding his lips down to hers with a gentle hand. He melted into her touch, hands reaching down to pull her closer. His fingers slid beneath the hem of her little, black dress. She grinned; biting is lip softly before pulling away.

“We should go,” she whispered, and he sent her a playful glare.

“So that’s your game?” he asked with a laugh and she shrugged, looking as innocent as the day she was born.

“Shall we?” she asked, offering her arm. He took it and with a resounding crack they arrived in front of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

Ron and Hermione were already there, locking up just as they arrived. Hannah unlatched herself from George and instantly began gushing over Hermione’s dress. It was a beautiful purple, and while it only sat an inch above her knee, its tight fit still managed to make her look absolutely sensual. She had straightened her hair, and Hannah couldn’t help but notice Ron’s inability to take his eyes off his beloved girlfriend.

No, it seemed she was something more, something that came with a shiny diamond ring.

“You’re engaged!” Hannah squealed, grasping Hermione’s hand with uncontained excitement. George glanced at Ron in surprise, who only shrugged. “Since when?”

“A couple weeks ago,” Hermione admitted, and Hannah faltered, the grin on her face dropping as she realized.

“Oh dear, we didn’t. I’m so sorry,” she muttered. Her own lovers spat had gotten in the way of such happy news, but Hermione wasn’t hearing any of her guilt.

“Hannah, I would much rather share it now that we can all be happy,” she promised, taking Hannah’s hands within her own and smiling. Hannah bit her lip, not quite sure how to proceed. Much to her relief, a loud crack interrupted her worries. Sloane and Draco arrived, arm in arm, and Sloane, ever the reporter, noticed the brilliant diamond right away.

“Engaged?” she squealed, and Hermione nodded, a little surprised at this stranger’s excitement.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hannah laughed, “Hermione, this is Sloane Richards, a dear friend of mine. Sloane, this Hermione Granger.”

“Oh, I think I’ve read your articles,” Hermione admitted, “I appreciate your attention to facts.” But Sloane was too busy vibrating with excitement.

“You’re the Hermione Granger, as in war hero, brightest witch of your age, punched Draco Malfoy in the nose, Hermione Granger,” Hermione giggled at the last of the accomplishments and Sloane beamed before glancing from Hermione to Ron who was standing awkwardly beside George. “And you’re Ron Weasley, my god Hannah, you didn’t tell me celebrities were going to be here, I would have dressed up more.”

“You look beautiful,” Draco said before possessively taking her by the waist.

“He flatters me,” she laughed throwing an arm around his shoulders, “But on a more serious note, I need a drink, the Prophet has laid permanent residence inside my ass.” Ron choked and Hermione blushed at her statement, but the rest nodded in agreement.

“There’s a bar next door,” George offered, and they all nodded in agreement before walking the few feet down the pavement. The girls instantly grouped up, gossiping about something or another while the boys were left in the back, awkwardly watching their girlfriends.

The bar was dimly lit with soft purple lightbulbs. Sloane quickly offered to by the drinks before dragging Draco with her towards the bar.

“Well, she’s a lively one,” Ron chuckled, narrowly avoiding Hermione’s elbow, “I’m just saying.”

“I think she’s lovely, from the rumors I’ve heard around the office she’s who you want if the Prophet’s going to interview you. Sticks to the facts, absolutely thrashes anyone who dares to report false information.”

“Oh come off it, you just like her because she’s the one who got Rita Skeeter sacked,” Ron drawled and Hermione blushed. Hannah sidled into George’s side as she watched the fiancés bicker across the table.

Sloane and Draco returned with six bottles of the bars strongest fire whiskey, and it wasn’t before long when they were as thrashed as they had intended. All six were howling with drunken laughter as George told a story about Ron when he had first developed a crush on Hermione.

“He practiced in front of the mirror for months, months I’m telling you!”

“She’s a frightening woman,” Ron defended through hysterics, which only made the rest of the group laugh harder. “Not that it matters, I got her, and you’re all invited to the wedding,” he announced.

Laughter continued to reigned at their little table, and it wasn’t until Sloane and Draco had disappeared for a solid ten minutes when Ron noticed they were missing. “Where’d those two go?” he asked, causing Hannah and Hermione to burst into laughter.

“They’re in the bathroom,” Hannah whispered through giggles and Ron scrunched up his nose.

“They’re completely unhinged,” he said, causing the group to burst into laughter once more.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that,” George whispered into Hannah’s ear, relishing in the sight of the blush that crept up her cheeks. She snuggled closer into his arm with a grin. She was going to respond before she noticed Ron earning a playful slap for making the same suggestion. Hermione was still dying of laughter, but it was clear she was not shagging in some dirty bathroom.

When Sloane and Draco returned, both significantly more ruffled than when they had left, George let out a whistle. Sloane bowed and Draco smirked, still buttoning his shirt. Draco ordered their fifth round of drinks and they downed them with ease. The laughter continued for another half an hour when Hermione suddenly stood, announcing she had to use the loo, asking Hannah and Sloane if they’d like to join her. They all stood and Ron, in his drunken stupor began to protest.

“Sloane, if you shag my girlfriend I’ll have to fight you,” he yelled, sending the girls away giggling. He dropped back into his seat and shook his head as he took another swig of Fire whiskey.

George wasn’t sure if Ron was worried or not.

“Hey, listen Draco,” Ron slurred, his mind quickly falling away from bathroom shenanigans. “I’m sorry about the gala, sometimes I’m just a bigoted fuck,” he announced, and Draco shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, we’ve all been there, judging for family, but damn, I think I just wanted to punch you.” He got a laugh out of that.

“Well, you succeeded,” Draco responded coolly, and George nudged him, silently begging for Hannah’s sake that he would accept the apology. “It’s behind me, let bygones be bygones.” It seemed he had read George’s mind. The boys settled into drunk silence. Draco and George chuckling when Ron tipped forward and began snoring.

The girls returned from the bathroom, laughing at Ron’s snores as they settled back into their chairs. Pleasant conversation continued around the sleeping lump, but it wasn’t long before the rest began to feel the lethargic effects of the liquor.

Quickly paying their tab, the couples stepped into the street. Ron and Hermione walked down the street, laughing all the way as Ron kept trying to grab Hermione’s ass, while singing drinking songs he had learned from one of his older brothers. Sloane and Draco were even handsier, hands never leaving the other as they waved a slurred goodbye and apparating back home. George offered his hand to Hannah, glancing at her when she didn’t take it.

“Were you serious about that bathroom?” she whispered nervously, and he nodded, grinning all the while. Suddenly, with a grin to match his she dragged him back inside and towards the bathroom. He locked the door behind them, setting her on the sink as he slid her dress to her waist. She fiddled with his belt before tossing it to the floor and unbuttoning his pants.

A knock on the door froze them both as they tried to silence their laughter. The handle jiggled before the person disappeared, and then they were jumping each other once more. He slid into her, thumbing the sensitive bud that resided above her entrance. She covered her mouth as she tried to silence her moans, but it wasn’t doing much. She leaned back into the grimy mirror, reaching for anything to steady her as he thrust into her.

“Fuck,” he growled in pleasure and frustration. It was the first time they had had sex in weeks, and he was already close. He tried to hold off, think of anything to keep his release away, but it was an exercise in futility. She was too warm, too soft, and too inviting. The rhythm of his hips stuttered, and she was crying out, nails digging into his shoulders as she came. He followed quickly after, grateful for the release.

They pressed sweaty foreheads together as they giggled, ignoring the annoyed demands to be let into the restroom.

“I think he wants to get in,” she whispered breathlessly.

“He’s awfully impatient, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is.”

“I think we’ll leave it locked,” George said with a grin before apparating them back to his apartment.

“George!” She playfully slapped him, and George shrugged.

“He’s a wizard, he’ll figure it out.” She laughed before yanking him towards the bed and crashing into the covers for round two, and as many rounds as it took to make up for lost time.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley smut #george weasley fanfic #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley x reader fanfiction #george weasley x reader smut #george weasley x reader fanfic #George weasley x reader imagine #george weasley x reader fluff #george weasley x reader angst #end of the tunnel

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what-do-1000-swords-look-like · 3 years

Note

Do you think Jonsa was one sided with Sansa loving Jon but him not returning her feelings? I know the script says Jon knows she loves him but it does not say she is "in" love with him.

Hi, Nonnie!

Omg, that’s a great question and it’s already got the gears in my head turning. I feel like there’s a couple of different layers to it though so I hope you don’t mind me as I go forth and pull out my huge whiteboard:

*squeaks as I roll it in, lights cigarette, and pops cap off marker* “Alright, here we go...”

(I’m sorry, Nonnie, this is going to be a bit wordy, welcome to the inside of my brain, it’s a scary yet thrilling ride I’ve been told so just buckle in but keep your arms and legs inside the car at all times)

I’m going to break this up into two sections: What I believe the show intended & What I Personally Think/Believe when it comes to Jonsa, Sansa’s feelings, and if/how Jon returned Sansa’s feelings.

Starting out with what the show intended, I would venture to say that textually, though not explicitly, they meant to show it as one-sided (which is why we got that Sansa confirmation in the 8x06 script like you mentioned). They wanted the GA to believe that Jon was head over heels in love with Dany and that is why he can’t forgive Sansa at the dock in 8x06, after being forced to kill Dany to save her and Arya (more accurately, Sansa).

But...they also made sure to show us how Sansa felt visually:

8x01 - her ice cold glare in Dany’s direction as Jon speaks in the great hall scene - pure mistrust and jealousy right there (whereas in the courtyard, it had been curiosity and trying to gauge Dany and vice versa, then after Dany’s Cersei-similar line, only mistrust and suspicion)

8x01 - her subtle jealous and heartbroken reaction in the solar scene

8x04 - her heart eyes moment at Jon and then seeing who he’s smiling at bursting that bubble, so much so that she gets up to leave which distracts Jon enough that it breaks his and Dany’s bubble

8x04 - her emotional reaction to Jon having told Tyrion that he’s not a Stark, to the point where Tyrion notices (and then proceeds to use the mention of her as a tool to get thru to Jon later in 8x06)

Then they also made sure to show us how she felt through dialogue:

8x01 - her mentioning “No, she’s much prettier” when Jon tries to sell her on Dany not being her father in the solar scene - though this was a very valid point, it’s also meant to be a jealous line (calling back to what Littlefinger told her in 7x07 about a possible attraction/alliance/marriage implication between Jon and Dany)

8x02 - Dany picks up on Jon being one of hers and Sansa’s main contention points right away in the library scene and asks straight out “And that bothers you?” when Sansa mentions that Jon loves Dany

Then they also made sure to show us at least once that Jon knows how Sansa feels, that was glaringly obvious that even the GA couldn’t have missed (before we got that script confirmation or any other confirmations of Sansa’s feelings along the way):

8x01 - Jon’s little smile and tiny chuckle (or snort maybe?) after Sansa says “No, she’s much prettier” (the jealous line) in the solar scene

However, saying all of that, I do believe they did all of this to not only show us how Sansa felt but for two other big reasons: the love triangle and to contribute to Dany’s paranoia/fall.

For the love triangle, here’s the thing that I think some of the GA missed: you can’t only have one side of the triangle working and the other one not working at all. There had to be something to get the other side up and running, otherwise there would be no triangle, only a single line. And how exciting would that be to watch? (in D&D’s minds, anyway) So even though they tried to show Sansa had feelings for Jon, the bottom line is, there had to be something coming from Jon’s point of the triangle towards Sansa’s point in order for those two points to connect to make that line/side of the triangle. Or else, that triangle is no longer a triangle. I’m not trying to get all geometric here but story wise, in order for a triangle to work, things can’t just be one-sided for either relationship or it simply won’t work. For example, Edward wouldn’t have felt threatened by Jacob in Twilight if he never thought Bella returned Jacob’s feelings at all. Sure, it would have annoyed him to know how Jacob had feelings for Bella and planned on showing her, trying to change her mind, but ultimately, he gets jealous because he knows no matter how much Bella protests and friend zones Jacob, there’s something there on Bella’s end. I hope I’m not spoiling anything there for you btw (sorry, I should have given a warning beforehand), These are some good examples of when a love triangle works and when it doesn’t (major spoiler warnings if you haven’t seen/read Twilight, True Blood, Reign, Harry Potter, Pretty in Pink, Roswell from 1999):

The Twilight Saga - love triangle: Edward/Bella/Jacob - this triangle worked because Bella had feelings for both and was torn between them

True Blood - (though I feel like there was so much going on in that show, I know how it ended but didn’t watch it through, I kind of got bored tbh) love triangle: Bill/Sookie/Eric - it worked because Sookie had feelings for both

First season of Reign - love triangle: Francis/Mary/Sebastian - it worked because Mary had feelings for both

The Vampire Diaries, Scott/Jean/Logan in the first X-Men movies, first season of The Originals, The Hunger Games trilogy, and so on and so forth

Harry Potter series - supposed love triangle: Harry/Hermione/Ron - this didn’t work because we know Harry doesn’t think of Hermione in that way and vice versa though Ron had been paranoid/jealous at one point that there was something going on between them though later found out he was wrong - even Dumbledore at one point thought there might be something there but it was only friendship/family for them - so no triangle (and tbf, the author wasn’t really going for one at any point, it was only briefly used to pose the question of what if & to serve as a plot device for Ron needing to separate from them for a little while)

Pretty in Pink movie - supposed love triangle: Blaine/Andie/Duckie - this was not a true triangle in the sense of the word though it was billed as one - Duckie loves Andie, sure, but Andie doesn’t feel the same and until he says it, she seems oblivious to his feelings. Because there was nothing connecting the points of Andie and Duckie, it wasn’t a real triangle. Sure, Duckie was jealous of Blaine, he was heartbroken, but in the end, he did what he felt was best for Andie because he truly loved her and he was her best friend. But the movie made it pretty clear, it was Blaine/Andie from the start and most likely, that would be the end of the movie, the big romance. We’re talking 80′s here but yeah, it wasn’t a true triangle

Roswell (the original 1999 series) - supposed love triangle: Isabelle/Michael/Maria - this wasn’t really a triangle either, Isabelle and Michael only thought of each other as siblings/family throughout the series though according to the setup from the world they were from and the aliens they were supposed to be replicas of, they were supposedly destined to be together, but Michael and Isabelle made their own choices and fell in love with other humans - not really a triangle

So in order for the Dany/Jon/Sansa love triangle to work, there had to be a line connecting Jon and Sansa to make that other side of the triangle complete (and tbf to the Jonerys side, the same logic applies to their portion of the triangle, Jon had to have some feelings for Dany in order for the triangle to work as well, I’ve never shied away from talking about Jon’s attraction/feelings/possible love for Dany but he was not in love with her, not like she was with him, and I will keep saying it, sorry I digress but I just wanted to get that out there). And the show did some things visually to suggest that there was a line connecting Jon and Sansa’s side of the triangle, that this was the case, but to what depth I can’t really be sure (I’ll just stick with season 8 for now):

8x01 - Jon’s expression at seeing Sansa again before the reunion hug in the courtyard scene; subtle enough that it could be played off as him solely happy to see his family since it’s after he sees Bran and then followed by him asking about Arya afterwards

8x01 - when Bran lets it drop about the Wall and undead!Viserion in the courtyard scene, we see Dany’s reaction but we also see Jon’s reaction; subtle enough that it could be played off as him being horrified at the Wall having been breached & to confirm with her since she’s been running things in his absence - but this is the same dragon Dany lost in order to save Jon, the same dragon she mourned in the boat cabin scene in 7x06 that supposedly helped Jon to realize his growing feelings for Dany & that he loves her (in the script) and it’s somewhat implied why he decides to bend the knee to her - but in this moment where the triangle is being framed visually with Jon in the middle, it’s shown purposely that he immediately looks to Sansa who is looking back at him while Dany is looking down, obviously disturbed and somewhat devastated at receiving this news about Viserion (this also highlights the difference in how each of the three characters in the triangle view this upcoming battle with the NK)

8x01 - Jon’s look to Sansa in the great hall scene after being called out by Lyanna Mormont; subtle enough that it could be played off as Jon silently saying to Sansa “are you going to help out or...?” and Sansa’s ice cold glare of “you’re on your own, biatch” in response but this was a visual/event echo to 6x10 - in 6x10, Lyanna Mormont calls Jon her king first, then the Northerners echo it, and Jon looks to Sansa who smiles up at him before he looks back out over the room & he became King in the North -> Lyanna just called him out on bending the knee and losing his crown, the Northerners echo it, and Jon looks to Sansa who glares over at him and he is forced to get up and defend his decision to the Northerners -- while I wouldn’t say this is meant to be a romantic echo, it does have romantic connotations in a way, Jon doesn’t look to Dany in this moment, he looks to Sansa and while this makes sense story wise since Sansa has been holding down the North while he’s been away and it’s the North he’s facing, they chose this specific parallel for a reason & the very obvious change in seating for Sansa

8x01 - that little step forward of Jon’s into Sansa’s space in the solar scene; subtle enough that it could be played off as Jon trying to convince Sansa about Dany’s being a good queen - but that little movement/action is set up purposely after the lines “do you have any faith in me at all?” “you know I do” and then Jon not breaking eye contact, Jon takes that step forward - that’s romantic tension that Sansa is not creating, Jon is creating it by moving into her space/this action, regardless of him following up with “she’ll be a good queen” because then it’s immediately followed up by Jon looking at his feet with “for all of us” and then that infamous jealous line of “no, she’s much prettier” then Jon’s smile and very tiny chuckle/snort with broken eye contact -- Sansa doesn’t attempt to enter Jon’s space once in this scene, Jon is entering Sansa’s: he goes to her solar, she gets up and walks away from him, he is constantly looking to move closer (I believe another nonnie on a recent ask mentioned if you watch the Jonsa scenes with the sound off, it makes it even more impactful, and I don’t remember if it was the same nonnie/ask but they also mentioned that Jon is always looking to enter Sansa’s space, looking to move closer, while Dany is doing the same with Jon and Jon only does it with Dany in attempts at placation/moderating her impulses, I rewatched some scenes with the sounds off after they suggested it and holy crap, the nonnie(s) was/were right!!!!!)

8x04 - Sansa being in the middle of Jon and the Wildlings in the feast scene; subtle enough that it could be played off as this is the North side of Jon vs the Dany/Targaryen side (which is why Dany is on the other side of them) but in reality, it’s not just to showcase Jon’s true self so to speak and how he belongs in the North, that the North accepts him and has love for him (as Dany mentions later in the bedroom scene) and to feed Dany’s paranoia/isolation, it’s also meant to show how easily Sansa fits into that whole scenario. They purposely gave her the line “Go on, I believe in you” to once again emphasize how important Sansa’s approval/belief/faith matters to Jon, even if it’s only on a silly subject such as chugging a horn of ale at a celebration, Arya was absent from this feast purposely, not just because it’s not who she is and she preferred to be on her own, but also because this scene was meant to highlight the love triangle once again. Not only do we see Jon breaking out of the Jonerys smile bubble by Sansa’s leaving (subtle enough that it could be played off by him being distracted by the motion/noise), but they purposely show Jon doesn’t go back into that bubble, even with Sansa gone, and then they follow up with the scene of Sansa having her moment with Sandor (Sandor who funnily enough has his own different relationships with Sansa and Arya, which this scene and then the 8x05 goodbye scene between Arya and Sandor also highlight) after seeing him turn down a woman’s offer for company

8x06 - Jon’s resistance/lack of reaction to Sansa’s hug and then him giving in and hugging her tightly in the dock scene; subtle enough that it could be played off as him just saying goodbye to his sister/cousin - but his hugs with Sansa and Arya are very different, he does shut his eyes with both and we see him hug Arya whereas it took him a moment to return Sansa’s, he’s not angry with Arya nor does he feel betrayed by her, but the way he holds Arya, the way she turns her head on his shoulder...this is a sibling/family relationship, a very close one - his hands going behind Sansa’s back, him pulling her tighter, her head being burrowed into his shoulder, her hugging him tightly - while there’s some tension and distance in their relationship now, and he doesn’t have the same close family relationship with Sansa as Arya does with him (he does now but it’s different), this shows a HUGE difference between the two relationships - it’s reflecting the current state of said relationships (like his goodbye with Bran shows how their relationship has also changed from season 1 as well as Bran being King), and the differences of who they are to Jon - his hug with Sansa shows he’s not sure if he can forgive her (as if he shouldn’t be worried if she forgives him or not lol, oh Jon...), he still loves her, and he knows this is goodbye but that pulling in tighter hug vs returning it, his very brief forehead touch to her shoulder, almost echoing her burrowing her head into his shoulder, cheek to cheek, all of it & then followed by Jon’s second last look on Sansa - purely meant as romantic - Arya is his sister/cousin & his favorite sibling (as per the script and what we’ve known all along), Sansa is his sister/cousin & his...?

8x06 - Jon’s split second last look at Sansa before leaving in the dock scene; subtle enough that it could be played off as him giving a last look at each of his cousins/siblings thinking he’ll never see them again (which he does do) but they purposely kept in that split second last look in Sansa’s direction before Jon turns away - “last look” is that age old common romance trope - and this is also a visual parallel/echo back to 7x02 when Jon leaves Sansa/Winterfell for Dragonstone, where Jon gives Sansa a wave, she waves back, she keeps watching after him as he leaves, Littlefinger looks between Jon and Sansa (after being choked by Jon), and a wolf’s howl is heard in the distance (cementing this with Jon & Sansa was set in motion before Jon even met Dany) - and also a sidenote about this scene that I think is truly wonderful: Jon and Sansa were no longer being framed as Ned & Cat - here Jon is Jon, Sansa is Sansa, and I don’t know but that to me is just so beautiful in its own way, they came full circle (as much as they could anyways) but I digress

Then of course, they also gave hints of how Jon felt in dialogue:

8x01 - Jon and Arya’s reunion scene: after reuniting, Jon immediately says he could have used her help with Sansa earlier; besides Arya’s little look at Jon’s hand on her shoulder, she knows what he means and mentions that Sansa doesn’t like his queen, does she? Then she defends Sansa (surprising Jon) and he mentions he’s Sansa’s family, too, which Arya tells him not to forget before hugging him again - we again see Jon’s (seemingly sad) expression before closing his eyes - I’m using this as an example, because it’s one of many times where Sansa comes up in dialogue in season 8 that will lead up to not only the ending, but also shows that Jon does care about Sansa (and has feelings) and people around him know it

8x01 - after the whole “what if the Seven Kingdoms were ruled by a just woman and an honorable man?” scene: Dany mentions to Jon that Sansa doesn’t like her & Jon tells her it’s because Sansa doesn’t know her, when Dany doesn’t respond Jon tries to reassure her that growing up, Sansa didn’t like him much either (an attempt to placate) & sure enough we get “She doesn’t need to be my friend but I am her queen. If she can’t respect me...” followed up with a look of “you know what” - we see Jon’s expression when Dany isn’t looking after they’re interrupted - Jon is still protecting Sansa (as has been his theme since they reunited in season 6) but it’s tempered and subtle enough that many of the GA did not see it as Jon attempting to protect Sansa at all but it’s all right here: his line of “she doesn’t know you” is him defending her while also trying to explain her reaction away, then his mention of himself is meant to be placation, but it didn’t work, only the interruption about the dragons did - they purposely kept in Jon’s expression when centered on Dany while she’s not looking & they purposely had this scene follow the scene where Davos, Tyrion, and Varys discuss a possible marriage between Jon and Dany (and they purposely had Dany talk about Sansa and then subtly threaten her here)

8x04 - the bedroom scene between Dany and Jon: Dany begs Jon to keep his identity a secret even though he has been trying to reassure her that he doesn’t want the IT but he wants to tell Sansa and Arya the truth, they deserve to know (and they do) - sure enough, when Sansa is mentioned, Dany pulls away from Jon and tells him that Sansa wants to see Jon on the IT and her gone, even going so far as to tell Jon that Sansa is not the girl he grew up with, not after what happened to her (which a quick sidenote here: fuck you very much GoT, for a rape/abuse survivor to mention that about another rape/abuse survivor to further their argument in the same episode that Sansa says that cringe line to Sandor to justify the abuse/rape inflicted on her, it’s just typical misogynistic men writing for women bullshit, I still cannot believe they did that and especially with these two characters, UGH, okay sorry I had to get that out), and we see Jon’s reaction to that line, it takes his breath away a little, almost like a little surprised gasp and it looks like it hurts him to hear it be mentioned - it takes him a moment to recover but he does and then again tries to reassure Dany that they can all live together/get along, but Dany puts her foot down and issues the ultimatum once more before leaving Jon alone - Dany makes it very clear she doesn’t want Sansa to be told and it goes without saying (and without knowing what happens after this), if he does, he’s going against what she said and it will have repercussions, perhaps on their relationship, perhaps on Jon’s safety, but there will be hell to pay - so not only is Sansa clearly made one of Dany’s main contention points in this dialogue that lists all of her contention points (Jon’s identity, the love she’s not receiving like she used to, etc), but Jon has Bran (I see what you did there, Jon) tell Arya and Sansa after swearing them to secrecy - he is not going against Dany’s ultimatum by Bran telling them & if Sansa and Arya don’t tell anyone else then he’s not technically going against Dany’s ultimatum, and of course this is why they show Arya being ready to keep it secret while Sansa doesn’t want to swear without knowing what it’s about, not only because she will tell Tyrion by the end of the episode but also because this is really about her, not Bran or Arya, and this is why they show Jon being insistent with her, she’s the one he’s worried about, to keep it secret, that if she doesn’t what will happen, etc -- once again, Jon is protecting her, just like he did in the battle planning scene before this one with that glare to end all glares, Sansa only raised a valid point about the men, she wasn’t snarky or disrespectful but it’s clear in that room that Dany is in no mood to put off the IT any longer or to play nice & Jon knows this especially after the bedroom scene earlier - Sansa only keeps her chin raised at Dany after this glare moment - bottom line: it’s all about protecting Sansa (with Arya, Bran, and the North by extension)

8x04 - Jon’s goodbye scene in the Winterfell courtyard: this was meant to show that Jon is giving up everything to go South, to fulfill his part of the alliance and help Dany get the IT - Jon says goodbye to each part of his journey in the show so far, outside of the Dany/Targaryen part and the Sansa/King In the North part -- he says goodbye to the Wildling part of his arc through Tormund - he says goodbye to the Night’s Watch/Lord Commander part of his arc through Sam and Gilly (and sadly, I think it’s also shown here that he missed his chance for a family, in the show at least, by Gilly telling Jon they want to name the baby after him and him sadly saying he hopes it’s a girl) - he says goodbye to early season Jon and the Stark/North/Winterfell arc by saying goodbye to Ghost (or lack thereof, personally I think he didn’t because it was too hard for him to, though he still should have, poor Ghost in that scene) & entrusts Ghost to Tormund so he can be free in the North (the only part of him that could be) - these three arcs watch him leave to go to Dany/the South through Winterfell’s gate, to showcase that he is leaving them behind in order to do this - Sansa, Arya, and Bran’s absences in this scene is very loud but we do end up seeing that Arya leaves for KL with The Hound, Bran is Bran, and we also see Sansa’s scene with Tyrion where she makes the choice to reveal Jon’s secret (in order to save him) - but the fact that they chose for these three important characters not to be present in Jon’s goodbye, but later on at the dock in 8x06, I think was very purposeful - granted, yes, they wanted to keep something under wraps (even though they backed off whatever this was by Dany’s end, I think we all know by now what that something was though) so that’s most likely why but if Jon was unable to say goodbye to Ghost, how hard would it have been for him to do with his siblings/cousins? And we saw how that played out in 8x06 - imagine how his goodbye with Sansa would have gone before she told his secret, before he had to kill Dany to protect her, it would have been hard for him, sure, and they might have had to keep it restrained/professional because even though Dany is off flying with the dragons, her presence is still very much at Winterfell at that moment through the Unsullied and Tyrion, but it would have been too telling so they kept her (and Arya and Bran) out of it

8x05 - Tyrion talks with Dany scene(telling her Varys betrayed her): here Dany assumes Jon is the one who has betrayed her but when Tyrion assures her it’s not, it’s Varys, and reveals it was Sansa who told him Jon’s secret, Dany tells him “she trusted you to spread lies about your queen and you did not let her down” to which Tyrion can’t really say much to that - Dany is right, that’s why Sansa told him and not Varys or anyone else, Sansa knew what she was doing, I don’t think she knew Varys would be executed when caught, but she knew Tyrion would tell Varys and Varys would get the word out, which would help keep Jon safe a little bit longer - but more importantly, the fact that Sansa’s ex-husband is the one she tells Jon’s secret to, the same ex-husband who also loves Dany, who saw that at least Sansa might have feelings for Jon in the previous episode (which, interesting setup, Sansa didn’t love Tyrion just like he didn’t love her, Dany doesn’t love Tyrion and his blind love for her is shattered by 8x06), the guy Sansa trusts (which Dany mentions in this scene) to hurt her after assuming Jon was the one to betray her (which she then is told is not the case), connecting the two besides it being about Jon’s very secret with Tyrion being involved - that’s a special kind of setup that speaks so loudly - and not for Dany’s paranoia/fall or any jealousy or the love triangle (and an even more uncanny parallel in this type of connection/setup, it also happened in 7x01 where Sansa and Jon have a scene where she starts to compare Jon to Joffrey, her first love, to which Jon is aghast and she quickly reassures him that he’s nothing like Joffrey, it’s subtle and framed as the conversation being solely about Jon’s ruling style, the king of king he is, but it also was meant to connect Jon to the prince that Sansa had naively wanted to marry before she found out the hard way that Joffrey wasn’t her prince/knight & Sansa herself says in dialogue that Jon is nothing like Joffrey because that comparison could have been dangerous had Jon been somewhat similar in temperament to Joffrey but no they made the connection but made sure to state Jon is a 180 to Joffrey; Sansa didn’t love Loras or Petyr though we see how Jon feels about Littlefinger and we also saw how Jon felt about Ramsay, three people the connections were not overtly made with Jon purposely - the only connection between Ramsay and Jon was that they were born bastards in the North and eventually became Warden In the North for a time, Ramsay was legitimized publicly while Jon was not - the only connection between Loras and Jon was that they both had sisters who end up becoming Queen & Loras was a knight, again making that whole connection of Sansa looking for a prince/knight)

8x05 - the fireplace scene after Varys’ execution: yet again, Sansa is brought up in dialogue by Dany, her now knowing that Sansa was the one to tell Tyrion who then told Varys, etc. “What did I say would happen if you told your sister?” Jon then tries to reassure her that he doesn’t want the IT. “She betrayed your trust” (once again, while it’s true, Dany speaking on something that is between Jon and Sansa again, in order to convince him why she had to do what she did) “She killed Varys as much as I did” (this starts off the whole pattern of Dany blaming someone else whenever she does a questionable action, miles away from her “That was necessary” in season 7 until 8x06) “This is a victory for her” (Jon and us knowing Sansa the way he does, do we really expect Jon to believe that? But in Dany’s mind, she believes it and again she’s trying to convince Jon) “Now she knows what happens when people hear the truth about you” (there it is, the threat, a little more overt this time than compared to 8x01 & 8x04) we see Jon looking away at the flames in the fireplace (which they purposely showed, especially after he just saw what happened to Varys) and then Dany says “Far more people in Westeros love you than love me. I don’t have love here. I only have fear” and that’s when Jon looks up at her and says “I love you” - again he is placating her and protecting Sansa again (even though he now knows Sansa told his secret after swearing not to) - then he follows up with “you will always be my queen” while looking down before looking back up at her - she then moves over to him, desperate to connect, to not feel alone, to feel love from him but of course he can’t give her what she wants, Dany knows it, and says “Alright then. Let it be fear” - Dany knows in this moment that Jon’s love for her in no way equals what she feels for him, I almost feel a bit bad for her here, but this helps to cement what comes next (it’s not the only thing that helped her to make that fateful decision, but it is part of it) - for now, in this moment, Sansa is safe (Jon successfully diverted her attention for a moment by using himself and their relationship, trying to give her what he thinks she wants from him) as is Jon (though certainly less so, now) but oh, look out Cersei & King’s Landing

8x06 - the jail cell scene between Jon & Tyrion: Tyrion tries to convince Jon to do what needs to be done, implying he needs to stop Dany by killing her - he tries tack after tack (Jon’s role as the shield that guards the realms of men, the people Dany will hurt, the massacre that just happened) but Jon doesn’t bite, even when Tyrion mentions Jon’s own safety - only when Tyrion mentions Jon’s sisters does Jon turn around at the door - when Jon insists that they will be loyal to Dany, Tyrion then mentions Sansa, Jon says she won’t have a choice (to have Dany as queen) which Tyrion agrees but says Jon does and he has to choose now - sure enough, Tyrion got through and Jon goes to confront Dany in the throne room (and this jail cell scene followed Jon’s scene with Arya on the steps where again she mentions Sansa and then Jon’s own safety) - when Dany confirms people won’t get to choose (and after mentioning Winterfell in her speech to the Unsullied earlier), like the script says, Jon knows what that means for those he loves most and he kills Dany (also cementing that it was Sansa he chose to protect)

They did it very discreetly, so subtle, that unless you go deep enough, it’s not easy to see. But it’s there and once you do see it, it’s very difficult to ignore. The show did purposely choose to show Jon’s feelings on the matter. Yes, it is subtle enough that the GA can look at all that and say of course, he chose to protect Sansa as her brother/cousin, that he chose to protect Arya, Bran, Winterfell, the North, and the world, too. But they made sure to show us just how exactly it arrived down to Sansa vs Dany for Jon to choose in the end, despite the love triangle. Yes, Arya would have been protected (as everyone was in general by Dany being gone), even more so because she would have stood by Sansa, as we saw her do in the tail end of season 7 and all of season 8. But had Sansa chosen to hail Dany as queen, Arya might not have cared for it at some point, but she again would have had Sansa’s back. So it wasn’t Arya. Bran/Winterfell/the North may have been protected (along with everyone else) but Jon was not prepared to choose when Tyrion mentioned Jon’s role to protect everyone, not even to protect himself. And Tyrion made sure to mention “sisters” and then “Sansa”. Bran wasn’t in that equation. So that begs the question: just who/what is it that Jon is trying to protect then by doing this action (killing Dany)? Answer: It’s only when Sansa is mentioned and Tyrion tells Jon he gets to choose, only when Dany confirms other people won’t get to choose, that he then makes his decision to kill her

Jon chose Sansa in the end, to keep her safe from Dany, to fulfill his promise to her from 6x09. And that is why he isn’t sure he can forgive her when seeing her on the dock in 8x06. Why he has some resentment. He didn’t want to kill Dany. Not only did he never want to kill a woman (as we saw from Ygritte and Melisandre), but he did care about her. He did see the potential of what she could have been (when he sees the Khaleesi side of her so to speak) and he felt responsible for her as the last remaining part of her family after remembering Aemon’s words from earlier seasons (which he proved was on his mind when mentioning “Love is the death of duty” line which Tyrion then tries to make his own because of course he does) and he did have some feelings/love for Dany but ultimately, he chose Sansa and the show may have taken a very muddled and long road with a ton of detours in the thick of night during a heavy fog to get there but it’s there.

Oh, and about that infamous line from Aemon. This is how I think he meant it (just my own personal take):

“Love is the death of duty” - love for Sansa/his family/the Starks/the North (I’m throwing all of these in here because this is before Tyrion mentions Arya or Sansa specifically) VS duty for Dany as his queen, as his role as Warden In the North, attempting to guide Dany and placate/moderate her impulses

“Duty is the death of love” - duty for protecting Sansa/his family/the Starks/the North VS love for Dany (more familial at this point but can contain some romantic feelings as well) OR can be seen as: duty for Dany as his queen, choosing to stay in the South with her, helping to guide her & placate/moderate her impulses VS love for Sansa/his family/the Starks/the North

Just like Tyrion fancied himself in love with Dany, he thinks Jon is, too, but Jon never said anything when Tyrion mentions this little tidbit in that scene. A lot of people think the love part of either phrase is in regards to this big romance that the show/writers sold to the GA for Jon and Dany but they’re also showing you in this episode, that’s not really the case.

So, in essence, I do believe that GoT, based on everything they showed versus what they told (“what if the Seven Kingdoms were ruled by a just woman and an honorable man?” “I’ve noticed you [checking out her] good heart” “She’s not her father” “No, she’s much prettier” “Did you bend the knee to save the North or because you love her?” “I’ve heard that the dragon queen is very beautiful. Daenerys is young and unmarried. Jon is young and unmarried.” “You think he wants to marry her?” “An alliance makes sense. Together they would be difficult to defeat” “I know you love her. I love her, too”) - Jonsa was not one-sided but textually, Jon’s side was not confirmed as Sansa’s side was in that script, only his knowledge of how she felt. But I do believe that yes, the show tried to visually and subtextually show Jon’s side of things and it wasn’t purely familial. Before the love triangle happened in season 8, they had too many parallels for both relationships for Jon at that point, even going back as far as season 6 (before Dany and Jon even met). It not only showed the parallels between Sansa and Dany as characters, that it would come down to the two of them as queens, but it also involved Jon and who he would choose. That’s what I believe GoT tried to show.

As far as what I believe personally, just getting into my own opinion on the matter, I also think it was two-sided but they backed off on it. Why they did, I’m not sure. It could have been because of the backlash they expected after Dany’s fall (which is why I think they changed things around and chose to keep Dany sympathetic to the end), it could have been another case of subverting expectations that we all know by now how much they loved doing (like: big Jonerys romance & Targaryen restoration -> Tragic ending to romance [or not as big a romance as they sold it to be] & no Targaryen restoration; Starks split up in beginning of series & pack would be together in end & Bran is in Winterfell, Sansa is on her way to King’s Landing -> Starks are split up again & pack is dispersed & Bran is now in King’s Landing, Sansa is now in Winterfell; Jon left Winterfell wanting to go the Wall -> Jon is banished to the Wall after he had wanted to leave it behind & be back in Winterfell; so Jonsa as Ned/Cat 2.0 -> Jon banished to the Wall & Sansa as Queen In the North in Winterfell alone could easily fit into this frame of thinking so to speak). But I don’t know if they ever intended to go through with it or not.

A part of me likes to think that they were, the framing and hints, the subtext alone, were too strong not to think that they had been leaning into it so heavily for a reason that would make some narrative sense in the end. But the other part of me is unsure, thinking that they always intended to use the Jonsa side of the triangle as a pure plot device (which they definitely used it as for Dany’s fall & Jon’s eventual banishment) and were never going to commit to it or it was meant to be like one of the stories/songs Sansa loves, that Jon was her prince/knight in her eyes and it was meant to be sort of portrayed as a courtly love if that makes sense, while his and Dany’s started out like eros but then grew.

But regardless of whether they meant to follow through on it or not, it was definitely two-sided, I’m just not sure to what degree when it comes to Jon only because what they do show is so heavily mired in with Dany’s story, what they were trying to keep hidden for Jon (and Dany, too), and then Sansa’s goal for Northern independence and not wanting a tyrant to sit on the throne. Then it’s mixed in with the NK battle, what happens in King’s Landing, Cersei, Dany’s POV swallowing up most of season 8 (to the detriment of other other arcs and other character POV’s) and all the rest, that it almost gets lost (but not completely). And some might say that if Dany’s POV really swallowed the whole season, then that’s the only reason they showed Sansa in love with Jon, Jon’s subtle feelings, the love triangle, etc. Because it’s Dany’s paranoia/insecurity and her POV of the situation. But this particular theory is disproved by the dock scene in 8x06 and of course, that script confirmation from that moment. Which means that Dany sensed something (which they do show a bit of in that library scene in 8x02) that was a very real threat to hers and Jon’s relationship, before the identity reveal. Had it just been Sansa having feelings, she might have been annoyed, especially compounded by the fact that Sansa has the love of the Northern people which is showcased often enough, that she is a leader (and possible political rival), but Dany would have been secure in the love she and Jon had, enough that she didn’t need to feel threatened by Sansa or any other woman. But she does and that’s before Missandei is killed, before Rhaegal is killed, before Jorah is killed, before the Night King, before Jon tells her who he really is (which threatens the IT for her), before her paranoia and isolation really escalate. Which means two things:

1) she is not as secure in Jon’s love/feelings for her as everyone thinks she is after seeing the dragon ride in 8x01

2) Sansa is not the only who has feelings

Plus it drives home this comparison in Dany’s & some GA’s minds (especially after the repeated Ned/Cat 2.0 framing): with Sansa as Lady of Winterfell, Jon could be King in the North, in his own right, and he could make Sansa Queen in the North (if they were to marry, brother and sister marrying isn’t a foreign idea to Dany) and they could rule the North equally and well, having the love of the people, while Dany would need to make Jon King Consort only (especially after she finds out who he is & wants it kept secret so her claim could go unrivaled) and while he has love from the people, she does not, and things might not go so well (a way worse version of Targbowl eventually) & it would never be equal because it never can be or she stands to lose everything (she would think). Which ultimately leads back to the two things: not as secure in her relationship/feelings & Sansa’s feelings are not as one-sided as they appear. Which then of course leads back to the whole triangle discussion above.

The line in the script says “Sansa loves him and Jon knows” (or something to that effect) but doesn’t explicitly state it as “in love” like you mentioned. I would have wondered about this had it not been shown all season like discussed above. Sansa was very much in love with him and GoT showed that as much as possible but kept it subtle at times, though less so than Jon’s own feelings.

A good example of this is another show I’ve watched that also had its own lackluster finale and another only one-side confirmed romantic pairing. I hope I’m not spoiling anything here but in Supernatural:

in episode 15x18, Castiel confesses to Dean Winchester that he loves him. Now, funnily enough, this pairing sort of took a similar route to Jonsa though there was no love triangle involved. A lot of it was subtextual and it was heavily leaned into right up to before the series finale. The show showed Cas’ feelings for a long while as they did Dean’s, but they only explicitly confirmed Cas’ side textually. In the script during this moment, it says “Dean can’t reciprocate” which ultimately could be because Dean doesn’t feel the same, Dean isn’t attracted to him (since textually, he has only been with women romantically and sexually that we aware of before this though there has been bi-coding and subtextual references to at least two past relationships with men), or Dean can’t say it back. Now, without looking back at Dean and Cas’ story before that episode and what SPN was showing the audience, in that confession scene, there is a lot going on in that moment. Someone is trying to break in and kill them, another entity is being summoned in order to kill Castiel (long story if you haven’t watched it), Castiel is telling Dean things about himself that are hard for Dean to hear and process, and now he’s being told his best friend of 12 years is in love with him, and oh by the way, he’s going to die in a second. So going back to the script, it looks like oh well, either Dean doesn’t feel the same or he didn’t have time to say anything in response. But now adding in the story that led up to this moment, knowing Dean and Castiel’s background as well as their characters, it gives it a different light.

Same goes for Jonsa. Both shows chose to show what the actual intentions in the story were. That means actors’ performances, blocked scenes and actors’ marks on set, the directing, the camera shots acquired, script directions, the lighting, the editing, the chosen music cues (and/or swells in certain moments), even right down to the dialogue. All of it is intentional and very purposeful. So it may not have said in the script that “Sansa is in love with Jon and he knows it” but the implication is there, and it’s not just a simple implication, it has way too much evidence proving it to be more than that or a simple theory.

Basically:

They’re in love, your honor. The court rests.

*takes deep breath* whew, sorry Nonnie, another 100 page paper I doled out on the topic of GoT Jonsa. I hope you enjoyed the ride inside my head. Make sure to get your photo at the booth and go get some cotton candy, you deserve it! I hope I was able to answer that question and not actually sound like Charlie above lol.

Thank you so much for the ask, Nonnie. I truly enjoyed delving into Jonsa (I just love them so much!). I hope you’re having a wonderful day!!! <3

#ask #jonsa #jon x sansa #got #anti jonerys #jonsa meta #game of thrones #ask answered

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quaranteehee · 4 years

Text

“Leave Your Lover” - Kuroo Tetsuro x Fem!reader ANGST

Leave Your Lover - Sam Smith

Summary: You’ve always loved him, but he wouldn’t know... even as you bid your farewells on the hospital bed. Because he’s a dumb fuck.

“Y/n! Yo... YO Y/N!!”

“Testu shut up I’m trying to tell you something!!”

“Okay Okay but shut up first I’m trying to talk-“

“BOI IF YOU DONT-“

He shoves the palm of his hands against your mouth, muffling the rest of your sentence. With twinkling eyes he proceeds to state the reason behind his excitement, “Kazuko Tomomi said yes!”

You slap his hands away. “What do you mean?? Yes to what? That could be anything- yes to babying your sorry ass? Finishing your English homework?? What does Kazuko-“

“A date,” he smiles at you broadly as he takes his fingers across his hair in disbelief. “She finally said yes.” A hearty chuckle escapes his lips before he plops himself back down on the grassy slope sandwiching the river beneath the highway.

“Congrats, you two!”

Kuroo hummed in response, mindlessly toying with the pastures between his fingers.

“Anyway what did you want to tell me again?” He sheepishly inquires with a lazy smile

“Ah, that? Never mind it. I guess it was nothing after all.”

But it wasn’t nothing. And in that space in time, you began to wonder what it would cost if you continued to protect this lie.

- - -

“Testu! I won- I actually won!”

Without another word, he scoops you into a tight embrace. You oblige by wrapping your arms around his back.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, training camp took its toll on me and well. I passed out as soon as I got home.”

You let it slide, he had a good reason to. You pull away and smile at him excitedly. “Buy me ramen and we’ll call it even.”

“Ah I can’t after school. I’m having dinner with Tomomi.”

It was a tradition to go out after a game. You forced an understanding smile, “that’s fine, tomorrow maybe? Before the weekend?”

“Can’t either. I promised Tomomi we’d watch that movie she wanted,” he scratches the back of his neck, “damn she always gets me to watch those cheesy dramas.” Despite his complain, a smile is plastered on his lips.

Oh god.. that smile- that damn smile. The perfect world you shared with Kuroo was distinegrating and you knew it. You were fully aware and you hated it.

“A-Ah, is that so?” You shift your gaze towards the window.

“I’m sor-“

“Anyway, enjoy yourselves! Don’t worry about it though.” You say a little too cheerily. Slipping on the strips of your backpack, you pretend to check your phone. “Ah, shit, I need to get my notebook back from Watanabe. See you!” Without giving him a chance to reply, you head towards the end of the corridor and disappear into the corner. Kuroo leaves soon after. As the sound of his footsteps dies down, you slump against the wall while staring hopelessly at the ceiling above.

- - -

“Thought is find you here.”

“Yeah?”

“It was obvious,” Kenma says over his PSP

“Well.. I figured I’d put in extra effort, you know?” And with that, you deliver yet another aggressive serve. The tennis ball lands exactly on the white line before bouncing off to join the others.

Kenma quietly tucks away his device and observes your practise. Glancing at the opposite end of the court, he notices an unnaturally large amount of neon balls rolling around aimlessly- the product of your training. Reverting his attention back to the Female Tennis player, he sees things he wish he was only imagining: tired eyes, a sloppy form, and a limp in your strides.

“Y/n, how long have you been here?”

“I’ve always trained here Kenma.”

“What time.”

“After school.”

“School finishes at half past three... it took a fifteen minute train ride, so assuming at you got here at four... “

“What?”

“It’s nearly nine”

You stop in your tracks and note that the colour of the sky has changed drastically. You’ve been practising for so long that you didn’t notice that you had been relying on the lights of the tennis court. “Oh. I guess I have.”

Bam. The ball ricochets against your racket.

“Tell Kuroo how you feel,” The Pudding Head says, carefully wording his sentence.

“He’s in love with her, though.”

“Stupid, not like that,” he sighs, “I mean, he’d understand. He really would. If it means taking off the weight off your shoulders, why don’t you tell him directly.”

You pause, clenching your jaw discreetly.

Kenma continues, “you’ve known each other for so long... if you tell him, he would understand. You’re his (y/n) aren’t you? He’ll still want you by his side, (y/n)...”

You let out a pained scream, startling Kenma, as you mindlessly fling your racket at the fence. How could you be so selfish?

“No. No, this is bullshit. Because he gets the best of both worlds from Tomomi and I,” you hiccup. “I am SICK and TIRED, Kenma-“ you’re shaking in rage.

Kenma watches you bubbling in anger- no. Not anger, but an unspoken sadness that can be mistaken for fury. His expression is gentle as he slowly walks towards you in the middle of the tennis court.

“SICK and TIRED of giving him all that I am when I can’t even have half of him. And you know what’s messed up? I don’t have any right to feel this way because he’s not mine...” your heart sinks to your stomach, “he’s not mine.. he’s with HER,” you grit your teeth, “AND... a-and he doesn’t love me.”

“(Y/n)...”

You fall to the ground, bursting into a fit of tears as the cold realisation washes over you. “He doesn’t love me,” you repeat.

The exhaustion that you’ve ignored slowly creeps up on you, paralysing your limbs until your vision goes pitch black.

- - -

You open your eyes and a blurred figure catches your attention. Sitting up, you rub at your temples. “Testu-“

“- will be here in a few.” The figure says.

“Kenma?” You glance, startled. “It’s 10 in the morning get your bitchass to school.”

“For someone that completely blacked out you sure are energetic..” he mutters in annoyance. “It’s Saturday, Dumbass.”

Surveying your surroundings, you’re suddenly aware that you’re confined in a hospital room. You begin to ask Kenma questions. He beats you with his response before you could even utter a single word,

“You’ve overexhausted yourself. No, you won’t die. Yes, you’re being discharged tomorrow. No, not today because of reasons I don’t know.” He watches as you close your mouth, his explanation seemed to have answered whatever questions you had in mind. “Look, I mean, I know tennis is a big deal to you and all but it won’t kill you to rest up once in a while.” Behind him rests your beaten up Tennis Bag. You catch a glance at your racket, some shirts, a tube of Tennis balls... and the letter.

“That’s not why you’re here, is it?” You ask cautiously.

He gives you a smile, his eyes glinting in a knowing manner. “How did you know?”

“Please. One, nothing goes under your nose unnoticed; two, that letter was in the racket section of the bag, not there,” you point, “where my clothes are.”

There’s silence.

“Duke University, huh?” Kenma says with a smile.

You mirror his gesture with a similar grin. “They were the only ones that got back to me. And it’s easier to apply for financial aid supporting international students for Duke than, yknow, NYU.”

“America,” he muses, “Oceans and oceans away.”

You meet the boy’s curious gaze.

“Kenma-“

“You have to tell Testu.”

- - -

Kenma’s text was the first thing that caught Kuroo’s attention as soon as he wakes up that Saturday.

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.” He squeezes past the crowd of people and sprints all the way to the hospital, practically slamming himself against the reception desk.

“How may I help you?” The lady cheerily inquires without hiding the concern etched on her face for the wheezing rooster head.

“(L/n)... I... I-“ he wheezes, “what room..?”

- - -

“Go easy on her...” Kenma whispers briefly before making his way towards the door.

“Kenma? Where are you going??” You call out desperately.

“Bitch I wanna play my games now tf.”

You glare at him, “But-“

“It’s okay. I’ll be here, right Kenma?”

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, Kenma thinks to himself. “Whatever. Don’t be stupid. Both of you,” he huffs before closing the door shut.

He places his hand atop yours before pacing his fingers around your delicate ones. You eye your hands pressed against each other’s for a second too long...

So. This is what it feels like to be yours.

You fight back the urge to cry. “Tetsuroo.. can I ask you a big favor?”

He quirks an eyebrow in response.

“Can you hold me? Like before?”

“Hm? In a headlock?” With that sadist response came a throw pillow flying towards his face.

“Like we were kids.”

He complies, getting up from the chair situated beside the hospital bed. You shuffle to make some room for the older boy who wasted no time in holding you in his arms. You cave right into his touch, facing him. He rests his chin on your head with your feet tangled.

“Is there anything else, your highness?”

You can feel his eyes roll. You chuckle, “yes actually: I want a triple tier chocolate cake. A pretty heart necklace, and a bouquet of-“

“Chill.”

You both laugh heartily. Amidst the silence that followed, you can feel his fingers rubbing soft circles in the small of your back.

“I want... I want you to stay with me for now. If you have to go, do it when I’m asleep,” you mutter loud enough to hear.

He nods as confusion washes over him. This all felt too familiar - sort of like de ja vu.

Like we were kids...

The sentence and the way you said it keeps replaying in his mind. He thinks of nothing but the familiar way he held you and vice versa when the nightmares struck. How you’d pull away only when the other was asleep. What struck him the most was why you felt the need to ask? To him, holding you felt like one of the most normal things in the world comparable to how natural it was for him to breathe. Nevertheless, Kuroo decided that it was a question for another time.

You begin to hum the tune to a song which Kuroo claims to know. Determined to pinpoint the song in particular, he rapidly lists titles of various compositions whose melodies were quite similar. You smile to yourself, he’s the biggest idiot ever.

It didn’t take long before you figured he was getting tired. With your fingertips, you traced gentle patterns into his forearms to help lull him to sleep.

“... pack up and leave everything; don’t you see what I can bring? Can’t keep this beating heart at bay...

His eyes dropped, and his breathing became steadier. Your voice was barely a whisper as you finished your song,

“Set my midnight sorrow free, I will give you all of me just-“ you choke back on your own tears, permitting yourself this last time to indulge in your own selfishness. “Just leave your lover... leave her for me.”

—————————————-

YALL THOUGHT YOU WAS GONNA DIE LMAOOOOO

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stayndays · 4 years

Text

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟗: It Isn’t That Easy

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! This chapter includes:

A Corpse

Possible Errors

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : “You came here to assist your boss at a party he’s invited to, not to solve a murder with a group of strangers you’ve just met. Yet here you are, staring at the dead mansion owner who hosted the party in the first place, surrounded by nine men with high statuses in society: and one of them is a murderer. The question is who? And can you solve the mystery without being killed yourself?”

Visit the masterlist first before proceeding. It has all the info you need to read this series.

“Let’s explore down here first, so we don’t risk the chances of running into the other four upstairs then,” you answer Jeongin’s question, to which he and Hyunjin nod in agreement.

When the three of you leave the guest bedroom you were occupying, there was a strange silence to the mansion. No sounds of arguing or the other members’ voices, quiet enough to hear your footsteps and Jeongin’s uneven breathing. Your eyes drift to the corpse spread out in the living room, now pushed to the side thanks to the rug underneath it. The living room is quite simple for a mansion; an unlit fireplace, sleek, leather couches and chairs, and a now dim chandelier hanging from the ceiling. You remember gazing at the chandelier when you walked into the mansion, it’s golden rays from the candles enchanting you. It’s a shame that its light was blown away once the mansion owner died and the guests fled, leaving you in a room where the only light source was the full moon outside.

“This is quite random but,” Hyunjin’s sudden urge to speak catches you off guard. “Do you think there’s something under the mansion owner?”

“If there is, I’m not touching that corpse,” you refuse immediately, Hyunjin holding in a snicker at your comment.

“No, seriously. I’m kind of tempted to look…” Hyunjin scratches his head.

“Then do it, we aren’t going to stop you,” Jeongin shrugs, nodding for Hyunjin to proceed. Hyunjin exhales before bending down right next to the corpse.

“God, it’s a lot creepier up close. You think that working at a hospital would help you in situations like these, huh?” Hyunjin chuckles, hesitating to touch the body.

“Say,” you remember something. “Have you and Minho ever met? Since you two both work in the medical field?”

Hyunjin hums in thought before responding. “I’ve never seen him before until this party. Even if he does work at the hospital I work at, I’ve never heard his name or have seen him around.” Your question seems to calm Hyunjin’s nerves slightly, as he pushes the mansion owner’s body onto the side. He inspects the area, looking rather disappointed. “Hmm… I don’t see anything-”

Hyunjin’s eyes light up and he pulls out a shiny, metal object from the mansion owner’s back pocket.

A small, golden key.

“It- No, it can’t be that easy,” Jeongin says with disbelief. You knit your eyebrows together in confusion instead of excitement.

“At least we found something?” Hyunjin attempts to stay positive, despite the unclear expression on his face.

“Well,” you make your way over to the front door. “We could always try the key on the front door.” Hyunjin catches onto what you’re implying, and attempts to unlock the front door. The key jingles way too loudly, and Hyunjin freezes up, not wanting anybody else to hear.

“This might be too risky for now,” Hyunjin concludes.

“Then, let’s just keep on looking,” Jeongin ends the search in the living room, and makes his way to the dining room. You and Hyunjin exchange looks before following after the blond.

The search in the dining room is unsuccessful, however. While you rummage through each table and chair, Jeongin skims through the bags and purses from earlier, tipping each of them over for good measure. Hyunjin inspects the walls and floors, you don’t know why, but you assume that Hyunjin somehow knows what he’s doing.

“Jeongin, can you try checking the belongings a little bit quieter? The others might hear us and wonder what we’re doing,” Hyunjin tells Jeongin with a firm voice, and Jeongin timidly nods at Hyunjin’s request, rummaging through the bags almost silently. You frown slightly at Hyunjin’s stern commands, but quickly get back on track.

“I don’t think there’s anything significant in this room,” you let out a sigh, gazing at Hyunjin toying with the key he found earlier. The two men nod in agreement, and they follow you to the next room: the kitchen.

The kitchen is likely double the size of your own, possibly even triple. With checkered tiles for the floor and extra counter space, you could only dream of a kitchen like this for yourself.

“Where exactly do we look in the kitchen?” Jeongin leans against a counter, obviously unamused and is on the urge of giving up on this exploration.

Meanwhile, you and Hyunjin are thoroughly searching every foot of the kitchen, even looking at the stocked fridge for a split second before going back to the drawers and cabinets. It isn’t until you step on a particular tile on the floor that you stop your motions.

It’s a black, loose tile, probably a millimeter smaller than the other tiles on the floor. Not only that, but it’s a smidge bit lighter than the other black tiles scattered across the room, you figure out once you compare it to another tile. Curiosity gets to you, and you attempt to lift up the tile with your fingertips with your spare hand. By now, the two boys have focused their attention on you. The tile lifts up to reveal a trapdoor, and you widen your eyes in surprise. Ushering the others to come take a look, you realize that there’s a lock on the trapdoor, meaning that what’s behind it will be kept a secret until you find the key to unlock it.

“A secret tunnel?” Jeongin’s voice is filled with hope.

Hyunjin is swift to burst his bubble, though. “Maybe…? However, it might just be an extra room underground.”

“Should we try the key on here?” You suggest, and Hyunjin complies eagerly. Kneeling down to your level, he tries to open the trapdoor, but has no luck.

“I swear, is there even a purpose for this key?” Hyunjin grips the key tightly, acting as though he wants to break it with his bare hands.

Jeongin lets out a gasp, directing your attention to him. “Maybe somebody who’s been in the mansion before, like Minho, knows what this key is beneficial for, then.”

“Or Seungmin! However, both Minho and Seungmin are with somebody right now,” you mention Seungmin’s name.

You can picture Hyunjin’s wheels spinning in his mind. “We can either pull one of them aside separately, or we can bring in whoever they’re which right now as well.”

“Minho might be more helpful since he lived here for a portion of his life, but how can we talk to him without the other three with him becoming suspicious of us?” Jeongin brings up, your brain almost exploding at all the information you’re trying to take in.

“Not to mention, Seungmin’s with Felix right now. We trust Felix more than Seungmin, especially Y/N and I. Would Felix be more helpful for us?” Hyunjin suggests with a shrug.

Minho and Seungmin are our best bet… We’re close with Felix… What about the other three...

WHAT’S YOUR NEXT MOVE?

[ VOTE HERE. ]

CHOICE CHOSEN: Downstairs

VOTING RATIO: 10-3

ROUTE CHOSEN: Escape the Mansion

OFFICIAL ALLIES: Jeongin and Hyunjin

BEST NAME IN THE VOTING BOX: “Hyunjinsfeet”

QUESTIONS (Comments are not answered)

Response 2: your tag might not work because you chose to hide your blog! go to settings, and then to visibility, and make sure both of those options are turned off. if i’m still not able to tag you, i could always message you privately when a new chapter is out. | I’m sure this chapter cleared your question up. And yes, Minho.

Response 4: Yes.

Response 6: If you successfully escape, you will not know what happen to the other members. The killer(s) may or may not be revealed, it depends on what the author decides.

Response 8: doubt it?

Response 11: Check the voting box.

THEORIES (Will be answered with either Yes, No, or Cannot Say)

Response 2: No. No. Cannot say. No. No. Cannot say. Yes. Cannot say. No.

Response 11: Cannot say. Yes and no.

taglist: @desertofdessert @crscendoforsung @cotccotc @poeticallyspaghetti @skzctnightnight @dreamy-dreamies @nizhonimoon @hanniiesuckle17 @binniesbabybear @tsuki-moons @lbxgsunshine @csbverse @mangoisawesome @yunhoesss @worldtriiiip @golden--rain @bubblyjisunq @kimpchi @loey-letters @pokyloky @wherevermyway @avrea-tt @bossuns @sunoo-luvs @katherineee19 @ph0ebevix @qt-k1mb @444scb @grandmasterslickfox

From what I see, only 15-20 or so people are actively participating in this series. Although this breaks both mine and the author’s heart, I thank you all for being so invested in this series. The author has worked tremendously hard on Killer Kings, and despite the low player count, she’s grateful for all of the participation and dedication being put into this series by all of you. Thank you once again.

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

Text

Into the Light

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Ichigo Kurosaki, Rukia Kuchiki

Additional Tags: Feudal Japan AU

The starlight caught on Rukia’s strands of hair, making them glimmer like threads of obsidian as she strolled along the perimeter of the stone wall surrounding the lofty Kurosaki estate. Her armor lightly chinked as she adjusted it over her bandage-wrapped bust; despite her best efforts to secure gear suited to her petite frame, the chest plate provided no room for her endowments. For once in her life, Rukia was grateful that she wasn’t as bequeathed as most young ladies her age; she’d barely be able to breathe in the damn thing. Worse, she certainly couldn’t have masqueraded as a male for as long as she had. She’d already suffered too many close calls; thank the gods for the overwhelming stupidity of men.

It had been two months since Rukia had fled her adoptive brother’s estate, reproaching an arranged marriage to a man ten years her senior. She’d tracked a course across Japan, traveling by night and using the local skirmishes between warlords to hop borders, until she’d arrived in a relatively calm countryside controlled by a daimyo known as Isshin Kurosaki. The gentle and amiable man garnered high esteem from his subjects due to his generosity and fairness; yet, he ruled his borders with an iron fist, quietly quashing all opposition. Rukia found it both admirable and terrifying. However, it gave her hope that she could remain undiscovered in this place for quite some time.

The compound’s perimeter was quiet, as usual. Rukia quickened her pace when the dull orange light of the flickering braziers came into view, eager to retire so she could finally catch a bath. Rukia could only bathe in the deep of night when most of the men of the estate slept. She found herself eagerly anticipating her frequent ritual, as it was one of the rare times she could strip free of the suffocating armor and bindings to relax. As she trotted around the bend to the iron-reinforced wooden gate to the estate, a serene smile graced her face.

“What’s that look for?” her replacement huffed; she wasn’t sure if it was amusement or disdain, but to keep the peace, Rukia elected to proceed as if it were the former. She stopped in front of him, bowing respectfully to the senior officer, and looked at him with bright indigo eyes.

“No, sir. It is just a lovely night for a patrol.” She laughed awkwardly and rubbed her neck as she admitted, “But, I would like to get to bed. I don’t know how you can volunteer for all these late-night shifts, sir!” It seemed her assumption of his gentility proved correct; he laughed heartily and clapped her on the shoulder. She planted her feet as his meaty hand jostled her back and forth.

“I would expect more energy from a young sprout such as yourself, Rasa!” That was the name she gave upon coming to the compound; “Rukia” didn’t exactly inspire masculinity. “Although, you do work hard throughout the day, so it’s no wonder you’re tuckered out by this time of the evening.” Rukia was grateful the red-orange light hid the blush rising to her cheeks. She appreciated the acknowledgment of her efforts. She had been berated for her small stature until then, but several months of hard work and a fiery temper had warmed the estate’s samurai up to her a degree or two. The older man rested a hand on the hilts of his katanas as he began meandering down the path circling the compound. “Rest well, young one! You never know what the dark of the night can bring…” he called cryptically, pausing to watch a thick, gray cloud drift over the full moon to eclipse its light.

Rukia blinked slowly and craned her head back to watch the cloud float over the white disc. When she finally glanced back down, the samurai had already vanished around the corner.

Rukia unabashedly moaned aloud as she sank into the estate’s small hot spring’s steaming waters. The collection of heated pools coalesced on a rocky bluff marking the complex’s lateral border, which climbed over sixty feet high. The edge of the house peeked over the peak of a sloping hill, allowing Rukia to keep an eye out if anyone decided to venture out for a late-night soak and catch her unawares. With one final glance at the house, she sunk to her chin into the spring to enjoy the tension melting from her muscles.

Her eyes drifted shut after a few minutes as she eased into a rare moment of tranquility. The bubbling of the springs, the lapping of the water against the slick sandstone rocks, the singing of the crickets, and the wind in the trees graced her ears to fill them with a peaceful symphony. The cool night air kissed her face, making her lips curl into a smile at the pleasant contrast. Under the water, she rolled her shoulders to further ease the slowly-unknotting kinks in her trapezii. She then reclined back against the water-smoothed stone. A sigh of contentment breezed past her lips. So absorbed in her relaxation, she didn’t register the clanging steel and the angry shouting until she heard the door to the side of the house slam open.

“Damn it!” The man’s cursed floated down the hill. Rukia suddenly surged up from the spring to fumble for her katana by the bank, the cold air blasting her pink, heated skin as she scrambled about. She snatched up the sword and ripped it from the scabbard, then retreated up against the bluff to hide in the water between a pair of large, round boulders. Rukia would much rather charge up the hill to join the ensuing skirmish, but she sure as hell couldn’t do it stark-naked. Her only hope was that no one wandered down the slope to discover her wedged between the rocks with only her katana and her agility to defend her.

What’s happening? Her mind whirled a hundred miles per second. Had an invasion party somehow broken through the border fifty miles away without them knowing? No, that was impossible; they’d have sent a message to Lord Kurosaki without fail. What could have happened?

Rukia sucked in a gasp as the sound of footsteps thundered down the hill; based on the quality, three bodies were currently trundling towards her. Rukia crouched down in the water, hoping the shadows would be enough to conceal her small form. Then, she remembered her armor neatly draped across the flat rock beside the hot springs, and her heart leaped up into her throat.

“Bah. It’s just some dumb hot springs,” the wheedling, nasally whine of a man echoed across the springs. She could hear armor clanking as he shuffled around the bank. Please turn around. Please turn around, she prayed. Her heart dropped from her throat to the pit of her belly when she heard a sharp whistle and the unmistakable sound of the tip of a katana scouring across an armored chest plate.

“Well, well, well. Looks like we have a little mouse scurrying about,” sneered another voice, deeper and edged with malice. Rukia jumped as someone out of her field of vision kicked her scabbard into the spring. She watched with wide blue eyes as the leather sheath sunk to the bottom.

“Come out, come out! We just want to play.” Rukia shuddered as the harsh scraping of steel echoed around the springs when the three men drew their swords. She still had the advantage of mild surprise and could charge them- but could she surprise them enough to kill all of them in seconds? Most likely not; if these men were bold enough to attack a samurai estate in the middle of the night, they were likely battle-seasoned veterans. A shiver gripped Rukia’s body as she struggled to come up with a viable plan.

“Where are you hiding, little mouse?” The men continued to jeer, walking into Rukia’s line of sight at last as she hollered and chortled scathingly. Her heart sunk further, feeling like it plummeted into the soles of her feet. The men sported bulky frames and, worse, the Kuchiki family crest. They found me after all…! “Rukia-chaaaaaaaan,” one finally cooed, stomping to the bank to kick the top of the water. Droplets splashed across the surface and into Rukia’s midnight-colored hair. “It’s best if you come out now. Lord Byakuya will be pissed if we come back with ya missin’ a limb or two.” Rukia meekly pressed back into the rocks a few more inches until its rough surface began to imprint into her skin. “Don’t make me come and drag you out, you ungrateful little bitch!”

“Boss, boss,” another sighed magnanimously and pointed at her armor. “She’s just embarrassed. Girl don’t have any clothes on.”

Even from the considerable distance, Rukia could clearly see the malicious and lecherous glint that chipped their eyes.

“Ohhhhh,” the leader cooed darkly. “How unfortunate… Little Miss Rukia will have to walk the whole way back home with no clothes. But that’s all right- I could think of a few ways to warm her up.” The men burst into evil laughter while Rukia whimpered. This was not how it was supposed to go. Rukia was supposed to run away and become a strong samurai. Yet here she was, cowering in a crevice praying for a savior. She squeezed her eyes shut, compressing her watery tears to force them out. They rolled down her cheeks to drop down into the water sloshing around her shaking form.

Please…! I don’t want to go back!

The men’s gruff cackles ceased with the singing of steel, the crunching of metal, and a high-pitched yelp fading into a grotesque gurgle. Rukia’s indigo eyes snapped open just in time to see one of the men splash into the hot spring, blood spurting from his severed carotids and jugular. The red stain began to flood through the steaming water as his form descended the few feet to the rocky bottom. In his place stood an orange-haired individual, scowling as he brandished a bloody katana at the other two samurai, who wore identical expressions of shock.

“All right, you bastards,” Ichigo Kurosaki snarled, “either you hightail it outta here with the rest of your pathetic rabble, or you join your friend there.” While most sensible men would have gratefully taken the offered chance and fled, Kuchiki men were prideful to a fault; with ear-splitting roars, the two samurai charged and slashed at Ichigo. The young Kurosaki easily side-stepped the first blade to parry it, simultaneously grabbing the other man’s wrist to drive his katana through the first attacker’s belly. As the one enemy sucked in a breath and clutched at the sword in his stomach while the other spluttered apologies, Ichigo skirted around his back to slash down the length of his skull, splitting it open. They both fell into a heap at his feet, groaning and twitching and bleeding profusely. Ichigo crouched down, drawing his short knife from his hip, and quickly sent them to the afterlife.

“Rasa.” Rukia flinched as he called her false name. The tall, lanky boy cleaned his katana and knife with a cloth before standing up and sheathing them both. The din of battle ceased with raucous victory yells, presumably from the Kurosaki samurai clan. Ichigo did not indulge in their revelry but instead peered critically into the shadows where she still hid. “Rasa,” he repeated. “Come out, you coward. You always bathe at this time of night; I know it’s you.” Rukia bristled at the insinuation, but she couldn’t blame him; it certainly looked like she was a craven right now. She was too absorbed in her whirling mind even to consider that Ichigo knew that intimate detail about her schedule. Instead of coming into the light, she called back.

“I’m not a coward!” Fright raised her voice several octaves. She couldn’t give herself away, not after this. The Kuchikis had attacked the compound; she could be accused of being a spy and forced to commit seppuku! Ripples coursed across the water as she began to quake. “I’m not… I didn’t… It’s not what you think,” she pleaded weakly. Ichigo watched the sloshing water through narrowed, hardened eyes. After a minute, she squeaked, “I can’t come out, Kurosaki-san…”

“Why the hell not?” he demanded, stamping his feet. “You shy? I ain’t leavin’ until you give me an explanation, dammit!” Rukia bit down on her bottom lip. She wracked her brain for several seconds, trying to develop a plan, but to no avail. She had to resign herself to her fate, whatever it may be. She covered her exposed intimate areas with her hands, growing hot and red-faced as she suddenly felt all the more exposed. Gingerly, she eased out of her hiding place into the moonlight. “There you a- Oh. Ohhh.”

The tangerine-haired boy gawked stupidly at her small, curvaceous form hidden partially by her hands. Her pinkened skin shone in the moonlight as she cast her embarrassed gaze down at the water, too mortified to meet his eye. Through her thick lashes, she could see the way he shuffled around on the shore, struggling with the epiphany thrust upon him. “I- dammit, you’re a-a-a girl- a girl, yeah, shit, that explains a lot, um… Shit! What’s your name? I know Rasa has to be a fake name. Shit! Nevermind that! Put some damn clothes on!” He suddenly turned around, covering his face with his forearm for good measure. She could see the dark red tinge on his ears even in the gloom as she finally looked up at him. “J-just let me know when you’ve got your underclothes on, okay?”

“Y-yes!” she stammered, quickly splashing out of the hot springs to scramble to her clothes. She flung her silk kimono on over herself, fumbling with the sash as her fingers trembled. “Al-almost done!” she yelled after a few seconds. Finally, she secured the strap and turned around, smoothing the creases in her clothes and kinks in her hair. “I-I’m ready now! Thank you!”

“Jeez,” Ichigo whined as he turned to face her, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks shone with a rosy hue as he regarded her with a mixture of weary and curiosity. “Your name?” he asked again, tiredly. Rukia hesitated, but when he demanded it with more bark, she complied.

“R-Rukia!” She gulped, hoping he wouldn’t recognize it.

“Rukia Kuchiki?” he pressed with an eyebrow raised in suspicion. Her eyes flickered down to his hand, but it did not yet sneak towards his sword’s hilt.

“Yes,” she breathed. Better to admit the truth than be caught in yet another lie later. Ichigo continued to watch her guardedly.

“Did you know?”

“No! I swear it! I ran away from a marriage Byakuya arranged for me. He sent those thugs here to find me! I’m not a spy, Kurosaki-san, I swear it!”

“Stop, stop, stop, stop,” he interrupted, holding up a hand in a “halt” motion while pressing his forehead tiredly into the other. “Too much. As long as you weren’t involved, I don’t care about your baggage.” Rukia had been flapping her arms wildly the entire ordeal; as he accepted her claims so readily, she dropped them to her sides with soft plap!s.

“You believe me?”

“What reason do I have not to? If you had been with them, you would have been with them, not caught unawares in the bath. I doubt those losers are good actors,” he huffed disdainfully while nudging one of the dead samurai with a toe. Rukia sagged as relief washed over her body. Soon, however, doubt began to tense her muscles once more.

“Are you going to tell Kurosaki-sama…?”

“No.” She nearly fainted with how easily the refusal dropped from his tongue. He began picking up her armor, heading back up the hill while gesturing to follow. “The raid failed, and they don’t know you’re here, right? There’s no need for him to know yet. It will just make things difficult for you,” he explained as he marched up towards the house. Rukia scurried after him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. “However, things won’t be the same after this. From here on out, you’re my attendant. I’ll make sure everything is in order by tomorrow morning,” he said as he strolled up to the door leading to his bedroom. As he threw it open and casually tossed her armor down on the tatami mat floor, Rukia sputtered in indignance.

“I- what- why?”

“Because,” Ichigo said as he whirled around, “if anyone else finds out, it won’t be good for you, will it? This way, you can keep your secret.” He seemed so serious that for a moment, she believed his motives were purely selfless. Then, he leaned against the frame of the door with a sneer. “Plus, Byakuya is a prick. I’d love to see him spin his wheels looking for you,” he cackled. Rukia made a slight face at his mischievousness. Then she sighed and bowed.

“Thank you for this kindness. I will do my best as your attendant, Kurosaki-san.”

“Ichigo,” he corrected with an uncomfortable look. “I’m not into all that politeness stuff. Just Ichigo is fine.” Rukia felt her cheeks warm, but she nodded, wanting to respect his wishes.

“All right… Ichigo.”

“Good. I’ll bet the boys are gettin’ rowdy with the afterparty. Come on, Rasa,” he grinned and threw a big arm around her shoulders to corral her toward the hall, where raucous laughter was drifting in. “I’ll tell them all about how you killed three samurai naked as you came out the womb.” Rukia groaned and shoved her red face into the palms of her hands. She had a feeling that her life was going to become worse, not better, thanks to this meddling son of a feudal lord.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#ichiruki #rukia kuchiki #kuchiki rukia #ichigo kurosaki #kurosaki ichigo #bleach #bleach fanfiction

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pernatius · 3 years

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Lost in Space Part 12: Ch 2

Summary: The fate of the universe will be decided in the final five chapters.

Lost in Space on Tumblr

Lost in Space on ao3

Two pieces. Two halves dropped to what was once an empty, white floor. A golden pool of their blood spilled out from the gash and rippled as my watery eyes met with it. I stepped away, stomach-churning, seeing One’s added reflection. The Lord’s ring and middle fingers pressed against the cigarette and raised it to where their lips should be. Somehow the Lord sucked in its toxic chemicals. A greyish ball spun inside their eye, then seeped out and blew away with a smile.

Something is vibrating from the tension. As I am slowly realizing, those are the tendons from what I thought I killed seconds ago. They’re reconnecting, twisting, and pulling the halves back together. I take a step back. I take another when the revitalized corpse pounces. Its blood seeps back into its body. After a deep-throated cough, the Watcher looks up at me with dirty yellow eyes. The fragments of my sword spun around my arm one moment, and the next, they’re lunging at the ominously silent Watcher who’s sprinting, seemingly teleporting from left to right, without losing eye contact.

Both their whips reappear in their hands and come zipping through the air and at me. I outmaneuver both and am about to respond with a heated ball of rich, golden light, but they vanish.

Looking around the room, I try to sense where the Watcher went. I try focusing to the best of my abilities, but to no avail. So, I wasn’t able to stop the knee to the face, and both straps of electric currents tightly looped around my body, electrocuting and spinning me about as they slid off my frame.

Above me, the reminiscence of the guard’s commander is charging their hand. It glows. Rays shone between their fingers, but my focus turned elsewhere. One mouths that I have thirty seconds left. Looking up at the opposing figure, I tell them, “This isn’t the end, and I’m sorry about that. I wish I could’ve done better than me that brought you here.”

The blazing light disappears from their lowering hand. “I can’t forgive you because I won’t forget.”

“I understand. I don’t think I could either. I am the monster.” Two hands charged, I release a massive energy blast that finally puts to rest the still Watcher. Two summons a shield that absorbs the explosion before it could hit One and Five. The Lord struggled a bit, arms shook, and they were pushed back as they fought to best the roaming energy. When they do, the Lord looks at me with a mix of interest and respect as the both of us are exhausted, I am a lot more so, but it marked the end of my one-on-one fight. The outnumbered fight continued on with the return of hundreds wanting to blast my limbs off, hundreds more wanting to tire me more out with hand-to-hand combat, and eight of them hoping to slit my throat with a solidified, sharpened aura.

I survive it all not because I’m a fighter but because of this cheapened state. So, I don’t take pride in what I’ve done. But I don’t feel disgusted either. With each blink, I can still see and hear them. They’re crawling onto me, piling up, covering the light, pushing me deeper into the emptiness beneath, and moaning in agony. The flames of my gleaming light envelop us, killing not only them but my emotions as well. My vision, too, apparently, because I can see a familiar red-headed figure lifting me up from my collapsed state. She looked like an angel with how the light circled around her edges, softening it too. The blinding, heavenly sight brings me to push myself once again as I reach out towards her. Resting my trembling hand on my love’s face, wiping the tears with my numb thumb, brings her to rest her other hand above mine. It’s warm, unlike mine. For me, it’s only been minutes since the last time we touched, but for her, it’s been years. Her eyes are baggy, and wrinkles are prominent. There’s a thick, white strand of hair at the center of her synthetic red hair. Most associate the color with seduction, but I switch it with blue’s symbolism. It brings me sorrow and tears in my eyes because I left her alone in this confusing place we call the universe for far too long.

Instead of me forcing out an apology, it’s her letting her heart out, “I’m sorry for everything.” She then proceeds to hug me. It hurts, but not because I have hardly any strength left. Instead, I’m in pain because I love her so much.

One dismisses their cigarette as they get up from their throne. “A minute off.”

Raising a single finger, they shoot, and I try creating a shield before her. Something sparks in front of her, but it poofs out of existence. I’m far too weak to do anything but cling onto Ashley, who’s looking confidently directly at the spinning light. I shut my eyes, and with the ringing, loud resonant sound that followed after, I reopened them to see a large blue shield between us and the attack. Turning my head back, I see Saamuki with a rich blue coat, brown boots, and a red sash to tie it all together. Her arms are raised, holding up her makeshift shield. On her ring finger is a ring sparkling because of the blue light. Two Tauvoxes, one a long-time friend and the other a prisoner the last time I saw him, are on either side of her. Like Saamuki, and now that I notice Ashley too, Mikrovos is wearing Quadrant Forty’s fifth battalion uniform and has a prosthetic horn. He also has a ring on, which has me crack a smile. The four of them aren’t the only ones here. Sakhra, Bichak, and that leafy, fearsome giant from the fallen Zeq’s town are here too, with the same clothing as well. Syco is not matching. He’s also the least clean, having scuff marks and untamed hair. An odd reunion, but a welcome one.

“So, this is where you’ve been. I knew it would take a lot more than that to kill you,” the musty Tauvox professed smugly.

The smaller Tauvox rolls his eyes before replying with, “We can do the whole ‘I told you so’ after we beat the Lords. Bichak, what’s your status?” Bichak, who’s quickly skimming through the floating book Four gave to him, slides his free hand into his coat and takes out seven dull crystals. Three, Five, and Six join with One. Saamuki encases us in a bubble as Two separates from the Lords and teleports behind us with a battle cry and a flaming fist. It cracks but holds.

She’s gotten a lot stronger but not all-powerful yet. It’s the reason why she blurts out, “We are all going to die if I’m the only one defending us against four Lords.” The silent vegetation presses his hand on Saamuki’s back. Soon after, she burst with a blue glow, which is almost blinding. Blue symbols etch onto her skin, peeking between her scales, as well. They’re the same ones I’ve seen plenty of times, and as I learned not too long ago, they are words from the very first language. Finally, with Saamuki overflowing with her powers, he pushes past to get to me. He motions for Ashley to hand me over to him. She hesitates, looking into his eyes as she tightens her grip on me.

“Kaishi,” Sakhra hissed.

Ashley has changed her name. Of course, she’s changed a lot, but she’s still the same woman I’ve grown to love. Respectfully feisty as she grabs hold of the green alien and orders, “Don’t do anything that will make me regret bringing you along with us.” He slowly nods. “We’re all going to make it out of this.” She lets go of him before turning to Bichak. “We only have one chance at this. The Nantos won’t be giving the second time.”

“Just a quick memorization,” Bichak assured.

“Right. Saamuki, the bubble.” Coming from her back, liquified metal slides down to her hands. They solidify once they cover them and shoot through the newly formed opening. “Syco. Sakhra.” The two nod to her. As the Lord stumbles back, holding their wounded eye too, the three dart towards the rest of the Lords. They easily dodge Three’s, Five’s, and Six’s blasts. While the three of them are against the four Lords unless Four and Seven decide to stop being spectators, it’s Saamuki and Mikrovos against the one beefy Lord who’s been trying to smash through.

The bubble does, but it smashes against Two. It flew towards the Lord, who could’ve just moved out of the way but trying to push it back towards us interested them more. A shield comes flying towards the Lord and then another. Another comes. Each time Two tries to punch through it. It takes five times until they unleash a solidified, sharp aura in the shape of a sword to cut right through the sixth time. Mikrovos, with two blades from his gauntlets, blocks the colossal sword. Two’s much greater size pushes Mikrovos back, but Saamuki quickly returns to the fight by transforming her sash into a sword again. It floats next to and follows her as she runs across the makeshift, see-through blue staircase. She jumps the final step and thrusts the barreling long red blade towards Two with its tip pointed directly between where the Lord’s eyes should be. The Lord sidesteps away but is cut by Mikrovos in the process.

Saamuki strikes the floor. Her sword comes back right next to her. It spins in the air as it once again tries to contact Two, but it clashes with the Lord’s sword. Mikrovos proceeds towards Two’s weaponless right, jumping over Saamuki’s blast, but Two realizes this between having their sword gliding against Saamuki’s, and so forms another one. Both of the Lord’s hands are preoccupied with the lover’s swords, and they are also busy swerving away from the serpent’s blasts. The trio seemed to match until the titan’s right foot stomped across the floor, causing the floor beneath Mikrovos to rip open. A pure black hole appeared beneath him, it swallowed him, but he didn’t disappear for long because he came crashing into the ground from the newly conceived tear above.

Five is about to grab Kaishi, but because of their weight, it slows them down, making it easy for Sakhra to defend her with a ferocious punch. Amazingly, the collision didn’t crack the stones that makeup Sakhra’s right arm. Sakhra’s other arm grabs the Lord’s wrist and, with ease, throws the figure who’s more than four times his size and weight. Five’s fats jiggle as they spin in the air, going between the recently distanced One, Three, and Kaishi. The three watch the bulbous Lord land at Four’s feet. The landed Lord asks for Four’s hand, but Four peaks up from their book for just a moment and then slides it back up, ignoring Five’s continued pleas. The two reconvene when One and Three send disembodied fists, which Kaishi shoots. As for Six and Syco, the two are engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Like with Sakhra, Syco cannot yield against the far more powerful force that is Six. Nevertheless, he’s holding his own.

Everything seems to be going well. I thought it was until I noticed the subtle look Four and Seven give to each other as Seven’s crusty fingers stroke against their chains. I feel my body revitalized. I’m glowing brighter than ever before with symbols from the ancient language I’ve grown accustomed to pulsing across my skin, so with the boost thanks to the nameless hulking figure over my shoulder, I set myself towards the suspicious Lords until I’m scolded by Bichak. “What do you think you’re doing?” The seven crystals are spinning around the small four-eyed figure who also has the same symbols across his arms and face, coloring, no longer a hideous gray.

“Helping my friends.”

“Commander Kaishi ordered us not to get in the way. Well, you weren’t a part of the order as everyone assumed you were dead, but she’d see it best for you to stay here. Protecting these crystals until they’re ready is everyone’s priority. Besides, I’ve seen how angry she can get. So I don’t want to be on her bad side this time.” All four of his eyes side-eyed the green giant.

I turn with the snap of One’s fingers. With it, all around us, Watchers appeared. I tried looking away to not be reminded of the atrocities I committed, but they are all around. I covered my mouth and began to quietly cry. The two enemies turned allies just looked at me, but I wasn’t expecting sympathy from either. I sure wasn’t expecting Saamuki to be enraged. Well, The Speaker is the one enraged as they punch through Watchers left and right in what I assume is them freeing the blood.

#235 #lost in space #my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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featherymalignancy · 4 years

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Like a Lonely House, Part VII

JFC, I finally did it. PLEASE ENJOY! Also, if you need a refresher because it’s been a GD age since I updated, please check out the PARTS I-VI RECAP. Also please enjoy!

Like a Lonely House: A Nessian Story Of Betrayal and Redemption

“so I wait for you like a lonely house

till you will see me again and live in me.

Till then my windows ache.”

-Pablo Neruda

Warning: NSFW for language, mild violence, mentions of sexual assault, and smut. This story is not ACOFAS complaint, but it will borrow elements from the story. oh, also tons of angst. Synopsis: Fifty years after the Hybernian War, Prythian is finally at peace. For Cassian and Nesta, animosity has turned to something more amorous, and they stand on a precipice of something that scares and excites them both. However, it only takes one night of weakness on Cassian’s part to change everything, and with a young Illyrian prince gaining power in the North, Nesta agrees to an marriage alliance, both to protect her family and get her as far away from Cassian as possible. As things unravel between them, Cassian begins to suspect there is something more deliberate seeking to keep them apart, and he struggles to uncover the truth and win Nesta back before it’s too late.

If you’re new to the story, please click HERE for the masterlist.

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of sexual assault. Please proceed with caution.

Part VII

The Macaran crowd roared its approval as Adan rose to his feet at the High Lords’ invitation, but Cassian couldn’t hear a single voice.

It was as if all the sound had been sucked from the world, leaving only a roaring silence in its wake.

Cassian had the sensation of falling, of drowning, of he didn’t even know what. All he did know was that he couldn’t think—couldn’t breathe—as he watched the prince turn to offer Nesta his hand. The smile she offered the spoiled little prick in return ran Cassian straight through, and he wondered if the female from the Corona was somewhere in the crowd smiling too, reveling in all she’d done to steal this moment for her Şehzade.

Blood slicked Cassian’s teeth as he bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. The muscles in his back screamed at the effort of keeping his wings pinned, his every instinct demanding he find the female—whoever she was—and simply shred her to ribbons, all the rest of this theatre be damned.

His body was so tense it had grown hard to breathe, but he called on the promise he’d made to Rhys to play his part and managed to settle, if only slightly. Gritting his teeth behind pursed lips, he willed the ire which bubbled under his skin to cool, trying to force it out of his scent. He needed to wait until he was alone, until he could speak to Rhys and Az...

He glanced at the latter to find his friend already watching him, hazel eyes glittering as the shadows slithered up to neck towards his ear as if they meant to tell him a secret. Cassian couldn’t speak to Azriel mind-to-mind the way he could with Rhys, but Az knew him well enough by now to read his body posture, even as Cassian fought to keep his face and scent neutral.

Casually as he could manage, he reached up to touch his collarbone with both hands before sweeping his fingers across his chest. To the uninitiated it would have seemed little more than a stretch, but Cassian knew Azriel would recognize the message coded in the gesture, one of many they’d invented to convey information when traditional communication was impossible.

We need to talk.

Azriel rolled his neck as if simply trying to relieve some stiffness in the muscles, but Cassian knew it was meant as confirmation. It wasn’t enough to settle him, but it was enough to bolster his control as the gates of the Hewn City boomed open and the High Lords, the Macarans, and their respective retinues were all welcomed inside by a seductive string symphony typical of the Night Court.

The temptation to look at Nesta weighed Cassian’s every step, make his feet feel as if they were made of lead. However, he resisted, knowing that seeing her so near the prince would be enough to break the tenuous grip he had on his fury. It had melted from a burning in his blood to a frigid blade he could almost feel pressing against his palm.

Three moves, he told himself.

That would be all it would take to reach the prince and sever his spine. Three moves to rid himself of the threat, and two more to remove her from danger entirely. In less than a minute he could have them both in the sky, up and out of bow range in no more than thirty heartbeats.

He felt a warm hand slide into the crook of his arm as a soft, feminine scent twined around him.

“Peace, Love,” Mor breathed, linking her arm through his as she casually peeled them away from the prince and towards their own side of the grand dais. “We’re not yet unobserved.”

“I need—“ Cassian began, voice quaking with effort as his eyes remained on Nesta. He could feel her hovering near the edge of his consciousness, closer now than she’d been for months.

It was enough to drive him out of his mind.

His heart surged and sputtered in his chest, breaths becoming too shallow as his face began to grow numb from lack of oxygen.

“I can’t—“

“Cassian—”

Cassian brushed off Mor’s hand before she could protest, pealing away from the assembly and down the nearest corridor, not caring where it took him.He burst into the first door he found—which turned out to be a servants’ pantry—slamming it behind him before letting out a scream of undiluted rage.

All the time he’d spent searching, all the time he’d wasted not being at Nesta’s side, and now the female was here as a member of the Macaran court.

He screamed again, shattering the gritted mirror hanging on the wall with a fist.

It was too much; it was all too much, and Cassian felt it tugging at his every seam, unstitching him one pulled thread at a time. He warred with the violation seeing the female had riled in his gut and the vengeance he felt stirring in his bones.

It was in the Illyrian blood to meet every transgression committed against you blow for blow. It keeps the soul unblemished, his mother had always told him; that which is left to languish will eventually begin to fester and rot.

He could feel that rot now, coursing like venom through his system as he struggled for control.

He’d been right, all this time. The Macarans were behind everything, and still they were here, dining at the High Lord’s table and—

Cassian screamed a third time, picking up a jug of wine and hurling it at the wall with all his might before crumpling to his knees, breaths sawing through him.

“Sorun nedir, arkadaşim?”

Cassian lifted his head at hearing the Dalyanian dialect of his childhood, so different from the Atalyan they’d always spoken in the war camps.

Azriel had appeared out the shadow in the corner of the room, eyes lambert in the dim light.

Cassian bent his head, still fighting savagely from composure. He knew that after all they’d been together he and Azriel were beyond being ashamed in front of one another, but still he felt a gelid wave of it wash over him as his friend knelt at his side.

“What’s wrong, brother?” Azriel repeated, this time in the common tongue.

Cassian let out a shuddering exhale, falling back onto his haunches as he ran hand along the plait in his hair.

“She’s here. The female from the Corona. I saw her in the crowd earlier.”

Azriel’s brows drew together as his hand on Cassian’s shoulder tightened. He clearly needed no clarification on who Cassian meant.

“Are—“

“Please don’t ask me if I’m sure,” Cassian croaked. “You know that I am.”

Azriel bowed his head for a moment.

“I’m sorry. I should have—it shouldn’t have gotten this far.”

Cassian’s throat felt too tight for words, so he only nodded, hauling himself to his feet and cuffing Azriel’s neck to pull him in close until they were brow-to-brow, an old gesture of respect among Illyrians he knew Az would understand.

“It’s not your fault, Az.”

Azriel’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with a cold fury his expression would never betray.

“I failed you,” he said, pulling from Cassian’s grip and flexing and unflexing his knife hand. “You and Nesta both.”

Cassian shook his head, unable to bare Azriel’s self-recrimination on top of everything else.

“Then make it up to me. Help me find a way to get her away from the Macarans.”

Azriel nodded, seeming to gather his composure.

“Does Rhys know?” He asked.

“No, I—“ Cassian broke off, running a shaking hand over his lips. “I didn’t want to rouse suspicion.”

He didn’t need to add that he’d also been losing his composure and had to get away to avoid making a scene; one look around the ruined storeroom was proof enough of that.

Azriel nodded again, jaw working as he considered.

“I will send Nuala and Cerridwen to scout the Macarans’ rooms. It’s possible whoever is holding her leash wants to keep her out of sight.”

“The smarter move would be to keep her close,” Cassian pointed out. “I’m sure that’s why they took the risk in bringing her here.”

A muscle worked in Azriel’s jaw.

“Adan knew I would send spies to Macar to search for her while the territory was unmanned.”

“Then he’s not as stupid as he looks,” Cassian said through his teeth.

“If he was really clever he would have killed her,” Azriel pointed on, hand straying to Truth-teller as if he was imagining doing just that.

Cassian had thought the same. The fact that they hadn’t—

“We need to be on our guard; it could be they’ve spared her for a purpose.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed in the semi-dark as he ran a hand over Truth-Teller’s obsidian hilt.

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

Cassian nodded, feeling his own resolve growing as Az clapped him on the shoulder.

“I promise, brother,” Azriel said, voice cold steel. “Tonight you'll get your answers. Right now we need to get back; we’ve been gone too long already.”

Cassian nodded, scrubbing a hand across his face and straightening his leathers as Azriel disappeared out of the door. Picking up a pewter goblet from one of the shelves, Cassian filled it with a mouthful of wine before he too slipped from the room.

He forced a slight stagger into his stride as he re-entered the grand hall, draining the small measure from his goblet before dropping it with a slightly-drunk chuckle and grabbing another from a passing servant girl. A cluster of Summer Court guards who stood nearby cheered as he drained the new goblet, and he raised his empty cup in salute before taking a third and heading for his place at the head table.

Mor laughed at seeing him, though the merriment didn’t reach her eyes.

“Are you drunk, Lord Commander?” she said, patting his arm as he dropped into his seat before adding in a whisper, “Cas, are you alright?”

He flashed her the lazy, edged grin he knew everyone expected from him.

“It’s a party; we should all be drunk.”

He raised his glass to closest Illyrian dignitaries, who all laughed obligingly as he did. Ellaria—who sat to Mor’s left—seemed to understand the diversion for what it was and turned to engage the Macaran finance minister in small talk to give him and Mor a reprieve from prying ears. Cassian was so grateful that were Ellaria not Mor’s mate, he would have kissed her.

“What is it?” Mor said, flashing Ellaria a smile as well.

“She’s here,” Cassian breathed. “The female. I saw her in the crowd when the Macarans arrived.”

The only indication that Mor had heard was the pallor in her ordinarily-bronze skin. She glanced down at the table in a casual gesture before whispering, “Have you told—“

“Az already knows,” Cassian said into his goblet, still not looking at Mor directly. “He’s going to tell Rhys and Feyre.”

“What are you going to do?”

Cash took another drink of wine, this one not entirely for show.

“We need to find her first. Then—“ he blew out an unsteady breath. “I’m not sure.”

“My gut says she’s here,” Mor murmured, pretending to straighten the skewed collar of his leather doublet with the affectionate fuss of a nursemaid.

“Mine too,” Cassian admitted. “How many of these servants do you recognize? the smart thing to do would be to hide her in plain sight.”

Mor scanned the room over the rim of her gem-studded goblet.

“Not enough,” she murmured. “Especially with all the other courts here as well.”

“Black hair,” he said into his own drink, quiet enough he couldn’t be overheard. “Dark eyes.”

“That’s half the females in the territory, Cas.”

“You’ll know her when you see her.“

Mor nodded her assent before casually turning her attention back to Ellaria to keep the conversation from seeming suspiciously intense.

Maintaining the pretense of drunken content through dinner was almost unbearable, but Cassian managed to hold on until the plates were cleared and Rhys stood, a hush echoing over the crowd as his power swirled around him like a onyx-studded cape. He raised his glass, his smile resplendent even as his gaze remained shrewd.

“Tomorrow,” he began. “We will celebrate the union of two great houses with all the solemnity and pomp such an occasion is due. But tonight, let us simply drink and get to know one another! Every hospitality my house has to offer is open to you all, and I only command you honor the Night by indulging in all its pleasures. May we look back on this evening years from now and celebrate all the friendships forged, memories made, and perhaps even the younglings conceived.”

At this there was a titter of heated laughter, and Rhys raised his goblet.

“Please, begin!”

There was a ripple of shock and applause as all the banquet tables disappeared at once, the soft, honeyed music growing dark and drugging as a haunting waltz began. Rhys offered a hand to Feyre and they descended onto the floor and began moving across it with the ease of two people who’d memorized how the other moved.

Cassian watched as the dance drew more participants from other courts, the space Rhys had cleared quickly refilling with bodies as the wine continued to flow.

Cassian was afraid to look too and see Nesta spinning across the floor in Adan’s arms, though curiosity quickly got the better of him. He glanced to where Nesta had been sited at the center of the grand dais to find her deep in conversation with the prince, Adan’s smile as effortless as the arm which he’d strung behind Nesta’s chair as he listened to her speak.

Red fizzed at the edge of Cassian’s vision at seeing the female he so adored with someone else, especially one as unworthy as the spoiled, treacherous princeling. Though his expression was mild, Adan still looked at Nesta like a target and not the arrow Cassian knew her to be, and it was enough to drive him mad.

Needing to do something productive, Cassian peeled off the wall and started towards Mor. He needed a way to survey the room without seeming suspicious, and the easiest way to do that was to go to the place he was least likely to be observed. Mor obliged him as he slipped a hand around her waist, fingers skimming the soft skin of her bare back as he swung her around and onto the dance floor.

She didn’t miss a beat. Using one hand to keep her voluminous plum skirts from underfoot, she strung the other around his shoulders, letting him guide her around the room as if the floor were made of glass.

 “Anything?” She breathed.

He tried to keep his focus muted as he scanned the faces of the hundreds of servants scattered around the room, as terrified as he was eager to see that face—her face—again.

“Not yet.”

By the third time around the floor he knew they needed to take a break; too long in his arms and gossip would spread in a bleed pattern Cassian didn’t want staining Mor’s reputation so close to her mating ceremony.

Just as he was preparing to release Mor back to Ellaria, who stood patiently waiting, he saw something which caught his eye.

Amidst the beehive of activity, there was one servant who’d remained in the same place the entire time he and Mor had been dancing. He didn’t dare look at the female head-on, but Cassian couldn’t help the way his fingers tightened on Mor’s waist as he swung her around again, using the diamond comb she wore as a mirror to get a better look.

Cassian couldn’t breathe.

The female stood with a jug of wine in her hand, but she made no move to refill any of the rapidly-drained goblets of the guests surrounding her, her back instead remaining glued to the wall.

“Where?” Mor said as he twisted her again in time to the music.

“Far wall,” he said, leaning in like they were sharing a private joke as he directed Mor to look where he’d indicated. “Standing behind the prince’s cousin.”

Mor’s face didn’t change from its beautific smile as she surveyed Lazar briefly, but disgust limned her eyes.

“We need to get Rhys and Azriel,” she said quietly as they spun a final time. “Meet me at the far refreshment table in two minutes.”

Cassian only forced a grin in reply, giving Mor a slightly drunken bow as he kissed her hand and headed for the table she’d indicated, looking for all the world like a drunken male in search of his next fix.

Indeed, when he arrived the long drought he took from the proffered goblet is was not merely for show. Cassian couldn’t be certain what would happen next, but he knew in his belly it would be painful. Perhaps it made him a coward, but he didn’t want to have to face it entirely sober.

Azriel appeared at his elbow several heartbeats later, and Cassian fought down an almost frantic anticipation as he turned to his friend.

“Where?” Azriel said in greeting, and Cassian indicated with his eyes as he took another heady sip.

“She hasn’t moved from that spot for ten minutes at least,” he explained, forcing his posture to remain languid.

“Lazar,” Azriel surmised, and Cassian nodded.

“We need to draw his attention elsewhere,” Cassian said. “Any ideas?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Azriel admitted. “I suppose I could—“

“I have one.”

Cassian’s heart squeezed almost painfully as he turned to find Elain standing behind him, her expression solemn but more gentle than he’d seen it in weeks.

“You would help me?” He asked.

Her brows knitted as she pressed forward to lightly cup his cheek. He couldn’t help the way his eyes fluttered closed at the touch. It wasn’t just Nesta’s company he’d missed these long weeks alone; it had been Feyre and Elain’s as well.

“Forgive me I didn’t do it sooner,” she said, eyes glassy. “Az told me the female from the tavern is here, traveling with the prince. I was wrong to doubt you, Cassian.”

“You were protecting Nesta,” he said, pulling her hand away to kiss her palm. “I will never fault you for that.”

Elain nodded, clearing her throat as she seemed to collect herself. She turned to her husband, the famed Archeron steel flashing in her eyes.

“When I give the signal, grab the girl and go. Feyre will be in position to take her place should anyone care to look.”

“What is the signal?” Azriel said, eyes scanning the dais to ensure that Adan was still suitably occupied.

“You’ll know it when you see it,” Elain replied. “Stay out of sight until then.”

With a final smile tossed in Cassian’s direction she swept off, her sage gown adorned with burgundy rosettes so at odds with the darkness surrounding her. Between her gown and her beauty, the crowd parted easily for her as she made her way across the room to where Céres—Tamlin’s wife—stood beside him lost and somewhat lonely.

Tamlin remained deep in conversation with Tarquin as Céres wistfully studied the couples dancing, her face brightening as Elain came to loop an arm through hers. Elain made the proper greetings to both Tamlin and Tarquin before gently steering Céres away to take a lap about the room. Cassian felt for the girl as he watched her chatting animatedly to Elain, clearly grateful for someone to speak to at last.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what part Elain needed her play. He could tell—even without looking at him—that Azriel was thinking the same, though Elain didn’t leave them wondering for long.

Cassian caught sight of a familiar figure in the crowd as he tracked their progress around the room, and he couldn’t fight a sardonic smile as he watched Elain press a hand to her rounded belly and winced, understanding now what she intended.

Céres paused in just the right spot as Elain doubled over slightly in pain, reaching for Céres’s arm to steady herself as she seemed to recover. A second later Cassian watched, his heart beating nearly out of his chest, as Elain pretended to stumble, sending an unsuspecting Céres sprawling backwards—

And straight into Lazar.

Surprised, he grabbed her around the waist to keep her from falling to the floor, his attention fully diverted away from the female who remained glued to the spot when Cassian had first spotted her.

It was enough.

In an instant Azriel had disappeared from Cassian's side, reappearing as nothing more than a long shadow behind where the female stood, watching the exchange between Céres and Lazar with alarm. Cassian's heart thundered as her grabbed her by the wrist and they both vanished.

By now Tamlin was there, an abashed Céres scuttling behind him as he wrapped a protective arm around her and bared his teeth at the younger Illyrian.

"How dare you," Tamlin snarled.

Lazar put his hands up, bronze skin paling at the fangs Tamlin now had mere inches from his throat

"Please, High Lord, this is a misunderstanding!"

He looked somewhat helplessly to Rhys as he approached, hands tucked into the sable pants he wore under his floor-length velvet great coat.

"My Lord, please!" Lazar begged

Rhys clicked his tongue as he surveyed the scene with dispassion, crushed sapphire eyes glittering in the low light.

"Oh Lazar, you do like to make trouble, don't you?"

"I swear, My Lord, she fell into me!"

Tamlin snarled, the sound entirely ursine.

"You had your hands all over her!"

"Lazar, what's going on?"

Adan appeared at his cousin's side, subtly inserting himself between the Tamlin and the younger male. Cassian didn’t dare look to see where Nesta was.

"I'm afraid Lazar's found himself in a bit of trouble," Rhys purred, eyes glittering behind the mask of the cruel High Lord Cassian had seen him wear so many times before. "He seems rather good at that."

Cassian heard Rhys speaking in his mind, voice markedly less amused.

Azriel has her in the dungeon, last door on the left. Be discreet. Make sure you aren't seen, and don't be gone too long. I'll keep the Macarans distracted.

Cassian needed no prompting. Casting a final look to ensure the Illyrians were suitably occupied, he slipped into a shadow and out into the hall, trying to steel himself for what was coming next.

The trek down into the labyrinth of dungeons that coiled beneath the great hall felt like it lasted both an eternity and an instant, and Cassian felt himself—his sanity, his control—unspooling with every step he took.

Azriel had the female, and in mere minutes Cassian would finally know—

Cassian’s heart was in his throat as he pushed open the heavy wood door, making a deliberate show of closing it behind him before turning to face the room’s only two occupants. Azriel stood against the far wall with arms crossed, arctic fury glazing his eyes as he waited for Cassian to speak.

And in the center of the room, seated in a chair with hands and feet bound, was the female Cassian had spent the last three months turning the territory inside out to find.

She looked just as he’d remembered her: a curtain of blue-black hair, eyes dark as pitch and skin the bronze of the Northern climbs. The only thing that had changed was her expression. The morning after their—coupling, she’d first been content and then, seemingly, afraid, and Cassian often wondered what face she’d wear when he finally caught her. He’d expected smugness at what she’d managed to wrought for her Illyrian masters.

What he got instead was...devastation.

She wasn’t making a sound, but there were tears rolling down her cheeks, fresh ones welling in her eyes as she took in his thunderous expression. Somehow, they made him angrier than if she’d been arrogant, and he bared his teeth.

“Save your tears. I won’t be ensorceled by your treachery a second time.”

“Please,” she began, her voice devoid of the sensual husk she’d used on him before. “You don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Pain lanced through him at those words, the same ones he’d pleaded to Nesta so many times since this nightmare had begun. He’d lost a great deal of conviction as time had worn on and Nesta had drifted further and further out of his reach, but here now was the truth—long sought—sobbing in his face.

He crossed his arms over his chest.

“What’s your name?”

The female’s brows pulled together as if she meant to resist him by remaining silent, but when she caught the flash of True-Teller’s blade from the corner of her eye, she relented.

“Rabia.”

“Who sent you to Velaris, Rabia? Who told you where I’d be that day?”

The female shook her head, tears falling to soak the unadorned servant’s livery she wore.

“Please, it’s not what you think.”

“Speak plainly,” Azriel commanded. “If you cannot use your tongue, we’ll have no further use for it beyond supper for the hounds.”

“Please!” Rabia said a third time,straining at her bonds. “I didn’t have a choice!”

“Why not?” Cassian pressed. “You’re not Macaran; you’re not even Illyrian. Why do this for them?”

“For my son!” she burst.

This stopped Cassian in his tracks, some of the anger bleeding out of him. Even without Mor’s gift, he could tell from the look in Rabia’s eyes that she was telling the truth.

“What would the Illyrians care for one high fae child?” Azriel said.

“He’s half-Illyrian,” Rabia said. “And his father threatened to have him sent to the camp at Kaletaş if I didn’t help. I would never have been allowed to see him! Please, try to understand.”

Cassian and Azriel traded a look over the female’s head. Kaletaş was the Northernmost camp, and one famous for its brutality even among people undaunted by harsh measures.

“Who is his father?” Azriel said, peeling off the wall the circle the female. “He must be well-connected if he has the power to influence the Kaletaşi camp-leaders.”

Rabia winced as if the question had dealt her a physical blow.

“He’ll kill me,” she said, voice growing hoarse from her tears. “If he found out it was me who’d told you. He’ll kill me, and send Safet to Kaletaş. Please, he’s only ten. I’m all he has.”

“If the Macarans succeed in starting a civil war, your boy won’t stand a chance whether you are there to protect him or not,” Azriel snarled quietly. “Tell us who his father—“

“It’s Lazar,” Cassian said, watching as the remaining color drained from the female’s face. “Isn’t it?”

Her sobs began anew, trapped in her throat as she fought to master herself. Cassian wasn’t surprised. It was just the sort of cruel and foolish thing Lazar would do, using the mother of his child to achieve his selfish ends.

“It was a mistake,” Rabia breathed. “A horrible mistake, but by the time I realized it was too late; I was already pregnant. I tried to flee, but someone told Lazar I was with child and he dragged me back. We have been beholden to him ever since.”

“Why did he send you to Velaris? What did he tell you?”

“Nothing!”

Cassian bared his teeth, temperature rising again as she sputtered, fighting her bonds.

“He didn’t tell me why he wanted me to go,” Rabia said. “He just gave me orders and sent me South.”

“And what were your orders?” Azriel prompted.

Color flooded Rabia's cheeks even as she withered under Cassian’s unceasing stare. It was the question he’d dreaded to ask, even as every part of him strained to hear the answer. Rabia shook her head, and Azriel’s hand went to Truth-teller in warning.

“Speak,” he snarled.

The female bit her lip.

“To seduce the General.”

Cassian felt his axis tilting. It was the answer he’d been waiting for, been hoping for since he first began putting the puzzle together weeks ago. Still, the confirmation was a knife in the ribs. He felt sick when he remembered the score marks on his wings the next morning, the realization that Lazar had likely instructed her where to touch him in order to scent-mark him enough to drive him mad with humiliation and grief.

“And Adan? Was he in on this as well?” Azriel said.

Rabid shook her head, brows synched.

“I don’t know.”

“Do not lie to me.”

“I don’t know!” Rabia repeated with more conviction. “I’ve never even met the prince. If he is complicit in Lazar’s scheming, I have no knowledge of it.”

It was exactly what Cassian hadn’t wanted to hear. They still had no evidence Adan was involved, nor any to prove he was innocent either. And if he was innocent, what would it mean for his betrothal to Nesta? The idea was enough to make Cassian’s tomach roil, and he forced himself to focus on Rabia’s interrogation instead.

“I was sick for weeks after,” he said. “What did you give me?”

“I—“

The door boomed open as Nesta swept in, Mor on her heels. The latter eased the door shut and locked it behind them as Nesta’s blazing eyes took in the scene before her.

She looked every inch the commanding Şezhana in the resplendent ebony gown she wore, the conical gold combs in her hair resembling a corona of spikes. She stood completely motionless, the glimmer off the torchlight against the gems studding her bodice the only indication she was even still breathing.

Cassian’s heart became an exploding star in his chest, its force threatening to tear his soul from its mooring as he watched Nesta. He could see the exact moment Rabia’s scent hit her from the way her back when rigid, as if she could no longer feign indifference or miscomprehension. Finally, she turned her burning gaze on him. It was the first time she’d deigned to look at him full-on since this had all begun, and her beauty made his knees weak even now.

“What is this?” She said, hands forming into such tight fists that her knuckles had gone white.

“You know what this is,” he said.

He could hear her heart as it began to beat faster, her ribcage struggling to expand against the corset she wore. He longedto cut the damn thing off her so she could get a good breath, but he knew he had to stay where he was.

After a moment she looked at Azriel.

“Is it true?”

Azriel in turn faced Rabia, crossing arms across his chest.

“Tell her. Tell her what you told us.”

Rabia swallowed, voice thin when she finally spoke.

“I was sent to Velaris by Lazar to seduce the Lord Commander.”

“And if he couldn’t be swayed?” Azriel prompted.

The female bowed her head.

“I was given a tonic. I was told it would make him—pliant.”

“And was he?”

It was Mor, her voice hammered thin by a fury Cassian rarely saw from her.

Rabia looked around, eyes wide.

“Was he what?”

“Swayed. Were you successful in seducing him?”

Rabia’s throat worked, and that she settled for looking at Cassian and Azriel was a testament to the fear both Nesta and Mor managed to inspire.

“No,” she admitted. “I offered myself to him, but he—“

She broke off, trying to master herself.

“Speak,” Mor snarled.

Rabia swallowed a sob.

“He said he was flattered, but that he was in love with another female. That they were...” she made a sound that was half-sob, half-wretch. “That they were mates.”

Cassian felt dizzy. It was the first time any of them had formally acknowledged the word out loud, and it clanged through him with such violence that he felt for a moment he might be ill. He waited, breathless, for Nesta to deny the claim, but she didn’t, jaw set as Mor pressed, “So you drugged him, and had your way with him while he was too incapacitated to stop you, is that it?”

“No!” Rabia said. “I would never—“

“But you did!” Mor snarled, drawing a dagger from the folds of her gown and advancing on the still-bound Rabia with alarming speed. “Can you deny it? When he rejected your advance, you slipped something into his drink!”

Rabia sobbed.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen!”

“What did you think was going to happen?” Mor said, teeth bared. “After you rap—“

“Enough, Mor,” Cassian said, not able to hear the next word said aloud. “You’ve made your point.”

“I’m just getting started,” Mor snarled, but then Azriel was there, slitting the bonds on Rabia’s hands and pushing her into Mor’s arms.

“Take her to Rhys,” he said. “Tell him to alter her memory and let her go; we can’t afford to let Lazar know we suspect him yet.”

Mor’s lip curled in disgust, but she took Rabia’s arm without further comment, dragging her from the room.

Cassian hardly noticed. His full attention was on Nesta, who was staring at him almost as if she’d never seen him before.

“I will leave you to talk,” Azriel said with a glance between them.

Before Cassian could think to reply, Az was gone and he and Nesta were alone.

For a minute they merely stood looking at each other, the silence deafening. Finally he couldn’t bear it, and Cassian broke.

“Nesta,” he began, advancing a step. “I’m sorry.”

Her only reply was several steps in the opposite direction. After everything they’d endured—that she’d been forced to endure—he wasn’t sure why it surprised him; he’d been foolish to think of few words from Rabia would undo all the hurt that festered between them. Still, he knew he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t at least try to explain.

“Please, Nes,” he said. “I—“

“Why are you sorry?” Nesta interrupted, voice clipped and cold.

His brows drew together, her sharp tone a freshly-whetted blade he knew she would use to carve out his heart even now, even knowing the truth.

“Because I failed you.”

Her expression grew stormy, and he wondered where things had gone so wrong that even now she still hated him. However, after a moment he watched the thunderhead raging in her grey eyes swell and erupt, her face melting into something sorrowful and stark.

“No,” she said, and he realized the tightness in her voice wasn’t anger—it was tears. ”It’s I who has failed you.”

“No, Nes—“

She held up a hand to ward him off when he chanced another step in her direction, several tears skidding down her cheeks as her lip trembled with the effort of maintaining her composure.

“I should have listened to you,” she whispered. “Why didn’t I listen?”

Cassian’s heart strained to near-bursting.

“It doesn’t matter now.”

Her brows synched as her anguish seemed to gain some ground on her composure. He knew that besides Elain and perhaps Feyre, he was the only one who’d ever seen Nesta Archeron so undone, and it was not a burden he took lightly.

“Of course it does,” she said, voice brittle but no less edged. “How can you stand to look at me knowing how I’ve wronged you?”

Cassian’s throat grew tight, everything he’d learned from Rabia coalescing with his missing Nesta to form a leaden knot in his stomach.

“Because I love you,” he said.

“I know,” she said, tears flowing freely now. “I know that now.”

Cassian’s eyes burned.

“Then please, won’t you let me hold you?”

Nesta let out a choked noise, eyes almost fearful as she looked up at him.

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Please Nesta, let me—” 

Nesta shook her head, arms wrapped around herself like she was afraid she’d physically fall apart.

“If I let myself near you, I will never find the strength to do what I have to.”

The words were a knife to the gut.

“You can’t mean to go through with the betrothal.”

Nesta bit her lip.

“What choice do I have?”

“We have proof—“

She shook her head, seeming somewhat resigned now.

“It’s not enough, and we both know it. If we truly mean to expose Lazar’s treachery, we must have hard evidence of his crimes.”

“And Adan?”

She flinched a bit at thename, though her back remained straight as she said through her tears, “perhaps Adan is my penance, for what I’ve put you through.”

Cassian couldn’t fight the tear that slipped out at that, at the blade Nesta had turned inward upon the realization she’d been wrong.

“You haven’t put me through anything I wouldn’t have gladly endured for your sake,” he said. “Please, don’t do this.”

She shook her head, jaw set despite the tears shining in her eyes.

“Our problem remains the same, Cassian. Unless we can prove the Macarans have ill intent, we risk civil war. I can’t put my sisters through that, not again. I have to—-“

Nesta covered her hand with her hand and began to sob, and it was a sound so stark in its grief and Cassian felt it tremble through every cell in his body.

Damning the consequences he dropped his shield, his consciousness racing down the bridge towards hers as he surged for her, just in time to catch her as she sagged to the floor.

He gathered her into his arms as she unraveled, her face buried in his neck as her whole body shook with the force of her tears.

“Forgive me,” she sobbed. “Please, say that you forgive me.”

Cassian coaxed her head from his shoulder, brushing the loose hair from her face as he gazed into her eyes.

“There is nothing to forgive, minu südame süda. None of this is your fault.”

Nesta’s eyes fell closed as she rested her cheek against his palm, even as her long nails dug into his arm.

“I will kill her for what she’s done to you. I will spike her head to the gates of this foul city, and Lazar’s alongside it. You have my word.”

He brushed away a tear skidding down the apple of her cheek.

“I would rather have your promise that you will not go back to Macar. Please, Nes. I’ve only just gotten you back. Do not ask me to send you away.”

She pulled his hand away from her face.

“You would go, if our places were reversed.”

“Not if you asked me to stay.”

Her gaze was steady but unyielding as she studied him.

“I know what beats in your heart; you cannot lie to me.”

He felt the pressure building behind his eyes at the realization she was right. He fended off a choked exhale as she reached forward to press a hand to his heart, gentle in a way he rarely imagined Nesta being.

“I must go, and you must let me.”

“And if it turns out to be only Lazar? If Adan is innocent in all this?”

A muscle feathered in her jaw.

“I don’t know.”

“You would be honor-bound by the kilhamine to marry him. He would steal you away to Macar, and we would never—“

Nesta shook her head, fingers brushing his lips in a silent command.

“Our path has never been easy, but still it’s always found a way to lead us back to one another. For now that must be enough.”

“Nes...”

“Te cакам,” she breathed.

Had Cassian not already been on the ground, his knees would have given out to hear her say it. He’d all but given up hope that he ever would.

He pressed his forehead to hers.

“I can’t lose you.”

“No,” she said, eyes fluttering closed. “You cannot, because I am already yours.”

There was a long pause in which neither of them spoke, and despite everything Cassian had longed to say to Nesta all these weeks alone, in that moment he knew there was nothing he needed to say that she didn’t already know.

He would have assumed it was the bond, but he realized it was nothing so complicated as any of that; it was simply the ease of two people who’d known and loved one another long enough not to need to speak to be mutually understood.

Instead Cassian reveled in her light, elegant scent and the softness of her skin as he breezed his thumb across her cheekbone. When she didn’t pull away from his touch he leaned a fraction closer, lips brushing the remaining tears from her cheeks before gravitating towards her mouth and hovering.

“Nesta,” he breathed, free hand tangling in the mass of curls coming unspooled from the heavy gold pins.

At her name she seemed to snap from her trance, pressing her fingers to his lips as she shook her head.

“I can’t,” she said. “We can’t.”

Mastering herself she pulled away, wiping her eyes as she struggled to her feet amidst the obsidian sea of her gown.

“I have to go. Adan will be suspicious.”

Cassian would be surprised at her composure but for the fact that Nesta seemed to possess strength beyond what the Mother had given other, lesser creatures. Even now with her gown rumpled and her eyes slightly red-rimmed, she was a pillar of steel.

“Go,” he said. “I will wait before following.”

Nesta nodded, though her lips tightened as she studied him with increased scrutiny.

“Promise me you’ll do nothing rash until we can speak with the others and formulate a plan for dealing with Lazar.”

Despite everything he found himself smiling weakly. He’d missed hearing his Nesta giving orders. However, the mirth faded at seeing her grave expression and the spectre of fear still shading her bright eyes.

“You have my word,” he said.

She nodded again, and he bowed his head as she turned to slip through the door. Even knowing why she had to leave, he didn’t think he could bear to watch her physically go, especially knowing who she was going back to.

“Cassian?”

Surprised, Cassian glanced up to see her still standing in the arched doorway, the torchlight dancing off the gems in her gown making her appear as if she were tongued in dark flame. Her brows drew together as they studied one another for a moment in silence. Finally, she continued, voice soft but resolute.

“I’m sorry for what she did to you. I understand you may need time to process or to grieve, but when you’re ready to speak, I will be here to listen.”

Cassian’s throat was instantly, unbearably tight, and all he could manage was a croaked, “I love you.”

She didn’t repeat the sentiment, but Cassian could feel echoes of it drifting down the bond between them as she gave him a final look and disappeared.

Cassian didn’t know how long he remained there in the dark after that, knowing there were a million things that needed tending to without being able to make himself do a single one. All he could think about was Rabia admitting she’d slipped a tonic in his drink, and Nesta saying ‘I love you’. Pain and joy coalesced, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or sob in weighing what he’d both lost and gained that evening.

In the end he found himself too fragile to do either, and he pushed them down instead, rising to his feet as he transformed from a heartbroken male to the General of the Night Court legions.

If he had to be patient to get his hands on Lazar, so be it; the wait would make his death all the sweeter. And if he had to wait for Nesta—he sighed, expelling a shaky breath before steeling himself and exiting the dungeon cell. If he had to wait a thousand years for Nesta, he would do it. For now he could only do his part and pray it wouldn’t come to that.

The morning after the welcome feast, Nesta found herself once again in her dressing room, though this time she wasn’t alone. She tried to ignore the faint echo of her pulse which buzzed in her ears, a symptom of stress she’d suffered from on and off since childhood. It had largely subsided the last fifty years, though it had begun to occur with more frequency since things had gone to pieces with Cassian. After what she’d learned the night before, it had been pounding non-stop, the ringing enough to nearly drive her mad.

It had been so loud and persistent when she’d first torn herself away from Cassian’s side and rejoined the feast that it had been difficult to hear anything being said as she fought to maintain some semblance of normalcy.

It had grown from a buzzing to a roar when she’d felt the slide of a warm, calloused hand at her elbow.

“There you are,” Adan had breathed in her ear, close enough that his lips nearly brushed the pointed tip. “I thought I’d lost you.”

It took a lifetime of unassailable self-restraint not to stiffen at the proprietary touch, especially as Adan continued, “come, dance with me.”

With that he’d slipped a hand around her waist, the other tucking behind his back as she brought her hand to his shoulder, the other going to keep her sea of skirts from underfoot. She wondered if he could hear her heart as they turned across the floor, other guests stepping out of their path as Adan maneuvered her with ease.

Adan had watched Nesta with curious scrutiny as they danced, but Nesta hadn’t been able to bring herself to smile at him as she perhaps should have. The female’s confession had still been ringing in her ears, fraying her sanity.

Cassian had been right; all this time he’d been telling her the truth, and she’d been too guarded and selfish to see the truth. And when she thought of what had been done to him in order to sow discord between them...

“Are you alright, prensesim?”

Nesta had forced herself to look at Adan, trying to mimic the guileless expression Elain used when she wished to feign sweet ignorance.

“Fine,” she’d said. “Only fatigued from the day’s festivities.”

“Perhaps you’ll allow me to escort you to your chambers, then.”

Nesta had glanced around for someone who might spare her from this fate, but finding no one she’d merely nodded. They ascended into the royal apartments in silence, and when they’d reached Nesta’s rooms she’d attempted a hasty kiss on the cheek as she bid Adan goodnight.

However, he’d gently caught at her hands, pressing her into the door as his soft lips found hers. Nesta had contemplated shoving him off considering everything she’d heard that evening. After all, this was a male who’d possibly been responsible for abusing Cassian, and that was enough to make Nesta want to gut him like a fish.

However, it was just as possible he was innocent, and they would need his support in punishing Lazar and breaking the engagement given that it had been made under false pretenses. With no proof of the former, she’d let him kiss her, even as she searched for a way to end it. If he was innocent, she didn’t want to be accused of fallaciously leading him on.

She’d been relieved when he’d pulled back, though the feeling was short-lived as he whispered, “I know I promised I would not force you, but may I come to you tonight after the city sleeps? I feel I will go mad if I cannot—”

“Nesta.”

The stricture in Nesta’s throat had loosened at seeing Elain, her smile benign but her doe-brown eyes flashing with a fire Nesta had been sure only she could see.

“Forgive me, I am interrupting?”

Adan had flushed at that, stepping back from Nesta and giving Elain a courtier’s bow. He’d then turned back to Nesta a final time, eyes full of yearning as he said, “Until tomorrow then, my princess.”

With that he’d disappeared, and Elain had pressed into Nesta’s arms, grip fierce.

“Azriel told me what happened,” Elain had said, touching Nesta’s cheek. “Are you alright?”

“I feel a monster,” Nesta had admitted. “I was wrong to doubt him.”

“No one blames you,” Elain had assured her. “Least of all Cassian.”

“I don’t believe you would have treated Azriel in such a manner, were our places reversed.”

“Don’t torture yourself, please. The good news is that you know the truth now, and we have a chance to stop all this before Lazar succeeds in whatever it is he’s planning. The others are waiting to discuss strategy. Would you—”

“I can’t,” Nesta had interrupted. “It’s all too raw.”

Elain had only nodded.

“We’ll speak before the ceremony tomorrow. Try to rest, my love.”

Nesta had nodded, Elain squeezing her hand a final time before turning to go.

“Elain? Please, tell Cassian…”

When she’d trailed off, Elain smiled.

“He already knows,” Elain had said. “But I will.”

Nesta had no further energy after that, and she’d slipped inside her room, staying only long enough to change into a more comfortable shift and slippers before summoning Nuala and asking she wake the tailor.

There was something Nesta needed done.

Now, sitting in her dressing room in the moonstone palace surrounded by the rest of her court, she felt more composed, though admittedly no less anxious inside.

Cassian had yet to arrive, but Rhysand, the Shadowsinger, the Morrigan, and both of her sisters were discussing their next move.

“We ought to use the girl to expose Lazar’s lies and be done with the whole affair,” Mor snarled from where she lounged on a nearby chaise. “This has gone on long enough.”

Azriel gave a dismissive sound from where he stood near the window, monitoring for unfriendly eyes and ears on the balcony beyond.

“Lazar will dismiss Rabia as a liar, and it will be her word against his.”

“So we force the truth out of him,” Mor said. “Between Rhys’s gift and mine, it would be over fairly quickly.”

“I tested them last night,” Rhysand said. “The Macarans mental defenses are impressive. Tunneling through would take more time than we have.”

“Besides,” Feyre added. “How will it look if the High Lord is caught trying to break into the minds of his vassals? We’d be facing the exact war we’ve been trying so hard to avoid.”

“Where does that leave us, then?” Elain asked.

“In the same place,” Nesta said tightly. “I must go forward with the kilhamine. I will use the time I have in Illyria between now and the wedding to discover proof of Lazar’s betrayal and determine whether Adan is involved as well.”

“If you fail, you’ll have no choice but to go through with the marriage,” Feyre pointed out in a soft voice. “You will be bound to Adan for the rest of your life, whether he is guilty or not.”

Nesta stiffened at the idea, even as she forced her shoulders back.

“It’s a risk we have to take. Cassian agrees.”

“This will be agony for him,” Mor said, tone edged with frost. “For you the bond will be easier to ignore, but for him it will be a physical and emotional torment now that you’ve acknowledged the claim.”

“There is no claim. He’s not some beast ruled only by primal instinct. He knows why I’m doing this, and that it does not change what lies between us, bond or no,” Nesta clipped.

“Does he?” Mor challenged.

“Yes. And I do not remember inviting you into our affairs, now or ever.”

“This decision doesn’t affect just you—”

“Mor, enough,” Rhysand cut in. “Nesta is right; this decision is between her and Cassian, and it is also the best one available to us right now.”

At this he turned to Nesta.

“Az and I will work on Lieutenant Na’ahmah while you are away. She seems an honorable female, and she’s in the prince’s confidence. It is possible she may know some of his secrets. At the very least, she’ll know where his skeletons are buried; it could be useful in scaring up proof.”

Nesta nodded, not wanting to discuss this any further. She knew in her gut that she was making the right choice in forging ahead with the kilhamine, but it didn’t make the idea of binding herself to a male other than Cassian—even temporarily—any easier.

“I need to get dressed,” she said in dismissal. “We can speak more after the ceremony; I don’t leave for Illyria until nightfall.”

The males and Morrigan—still looking displeased—nodded their understanding and filed out, leaving only the Archeron sisters.

“I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now,” Feyre again. “But for what it’s worth, Nes, I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t be. I’ve made so many mistakes.”

“Who among us hasn’t?” Elain said. “That you would acknowledge them at all is a testament to your character.”

Nesta’s throat tightened at this, and not wanting to delve further she instead asked, “Have you seen him yet today? How—” she swallowed, fighting to keep her voice even. “How is he?”

“He went on patrol early this morning,” Feyre said. “I think he needed something to distract him from—” Feyre broke off to squeeze Nesta’s hand. “He promised he’d return before the ceremony began. I’m sure this will be his first stop.”

Nesta merely nodded at this, grateful for Nuala and Cerridwen as they appeared, the latter bearing a garmented wrapped in soft linen.

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” Elain said, smiling.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Feyre added with a kiss to Nesta’s cheek. “We will send Cassian to you the minute he returns.”

With that her sisters disappeared as well, and Nesta half-collapsed into the small divan in front of her vanity, taking a deep breath. It all seemed so much more dire now that she was alone.

She hadn’t had the courage to ask her sisters to stay. Despite the fact she knew they loved her, it was difficult to let herself be vulnerable with them. She was the eldest, and yet she’d failed to protect them in so many ways whether they were growing up. The least she could do for them now was remain composed, at least when they were around.

“Are you ready to begin, My Lady?” Nuala said, a hand resting on Nesta’s shoulder.

Her touch was cool even through the silk of Nesta’s dressing gown, and she found it oddly reassuring.

She nodded, and the twins began on her hair. For the ceremony it would remain unbound in the Illyrian custom, save for a portion at the top. Nuala and Cerridwen brushed out the conker mass of Nesta’s hair before coaxing curls into the ends and teasing volume into a section at the crown.

When it was finished they helped her into her restrictive undergarments and tightened her corset before unwrapping the package which lay on the bed.

“Straight from the dressmaker, My Lady,” Cerridwen said, pulling the gown from it’s bed of linen. “And just as you instructed.”

Nesta exhaled a shaking breath, coming forward to brush the silken skirt. Originally the gown had been white and studded with diamonds. An unusual choice for a kilhamine gown, or so she’d been told, though in the end it acceptable for the occasion. However, after what Nesta had learned of Cassian the night before, she’d been desperate for some way to show him what he still meant to her.

So she’d gone to Rhysand’s famed tailor, waking the ancient female to ask her that the gown be dyed cardinal and that the diamonds be replaced with rubies. The gnarled faerie had grumbled at the inconvenience at first, but something in Nesta’s expression must have convinced her because eventually she’d agreed, informing Nesta it would be ready in the morning before all but slamming the door in her face. Nesta had listened to the soft purr of the female’s magic as she began coaxing color into the gems one by one before retreating to her own room again.

Cardinal was the color most closely related to glory in Illyria and as such it would make an obvious choice for a kilhamine gown. However, Nesta had been sure to explain the exact shade she’d wanted, and seeing it now, she was not disappointed.

It was somehow richer than an ordinary red, and the color perfectly matched the slumberous flame of Cassian’s siphons. It was an ode Nesta was positive would not go unnoticed by those who knew where to look.

Nesta accepted a hand from Nuala as she stepped into the gown, fitted through the low-cut bust before billowing out at the hips. She tried not to fidget as the twins trussed up the army of satin buttons which formed an orderly line down the back.

She could hardly breathe by the time Cerridwen ushered her to sit at the vanity again, easing an elaborate headdress out of a box and placing it atop Nesta’s head before beginning to secure it in place.

A coronet of blood-red roses formed the base, each in perfect bloom. On top of the roses sat a complicated gold crown of sorts, a ruby set into the center, and jutting above it all was a halo of iridescent blue-black macaw feathers which glimmered in the soft light.

It was magnificent beyond measure, offering a beautiful counterpoint to her gown and ruby painted lips. Mutely she accepted a pair of plain good earrings which hung to her bare shoulders from Nuala before meeting her own gaze in the mirror.

She looked no less fierce than she had the day before, but she could acknowledge that she looked less sad. The road ahead still reached farther than she cared to admit, but somehow it felt a little less dark now that she knew the truth: that she was not as weak nor as unlovable as she’d feared.

There was a knock at the door as Nesta rose to her feet, a glance out the window telling her the sun was nearly set. Her heart was in her throat as she reached for the knob, though it sank as she opened it to find Rhysand waiting for her.

He opened his mouth to speak and she merely held up a hand.

“Spare me; I’m not in the mood for your games, Rhysand.”

Rhysand gave a sardonic smile, though she could see something more sincere lurking below it.

“I was merely going to tell you that you look beautiful.”

“I always look beautiful,” she snapped, needing the vitriol to provide her some sense of normalcy.

Rhysand chuckled.

“You look particularly beautiful then.”

When she sniffed, he added, “That color suits you greatly.”

She turned to glare at him for the jibe only to find the mirth had evaporated from his face.

“When did you decide to change it?”

“Last night. After I heard—”

He nodded, offering her his arm as they began the long descent to the great hall of the Hewn City.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve been forced to endure, Nesta. I know this must be difficult for you.”

“It’s Cassian who deserves your sympathy, not me.”

“And he has it,” Rhysand said, tugging her arm to halt her as he gently touched her chin. “But you were also deceived, and made to suffer for it. I know you don’t care for being fussed over, but know that you are allowed to grieve as well.”

Nesta gently brushed his hand away.

“When did you become so tolerable?” She said, beginning to walk again.

Rhysand laughed.

“I knew I would wear you down eventually, Nesta Archeron.”

“Don’t push it,” she warned.

Still, something warm had kindled in her chest, helping to fight off the darkness as they moved farther and farther into the belly of the beast. Soon enough they could hear the primal heartbeat of the bone drums, and Nesta felt her own heart’s rhythm falling into step, hammering so hard she was afraid her ribs would be bruised. The gown and her nerves made it difficult to breathe as they halted outside the large wrought-iron gates, the twisting metal meant to represent the scale body of some serpentine beast.

“Azriel will escort you down the aisle,” Rhysand explained, drawing her from her reverie. “But we have time, would you like me to wait—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I wish to be alone for a moment.”

“Alone” wasn’t what she meant and they both knew it, but it was clear from his expression Rhysand had decided against making a comment about it.

“As you wish,” he said, nodding. “Azriel will let you know when it’s time.”

She nodded, warring with the urge to ask where Cassian was. Still, she bit her tongue. If he needed time to gain his composure, she owed it to him without complaint; it was the least she could do.

Instead she found herself pacing back in front of the gates as the drums continued, accompanied now by Night Court strings meant to celebrate the High Lord’s mixed heritage. She couldn’t have said how much time had passed before she heard the rustle of wings and turned to face the Shadowsinger.

Except it wasn’t Azriel. It was Cassian, dressed in the same ornamental armor as the previous day, the same silver hoops strung through his ears.

She watched his throat work as he struggled to speak, and she waited, breathless.

“Nesta,” he said finally.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” she admitted. “I would not have blamed you for wanting to stay away.”

“I could never stay away from you,” he said, though she noted he’d yet to come any closer. “Never.”

She nodded, glancing down at her velvet slippers.

“You changed your gown,” he said after a beat. “It’s lovely.”

“It’s for you,” she admitted.

Only with him had she ever felt safe enough to be so vulnerable, and it was a relief to know she still knew how after what they’d been through.

His syphons pulsed dully in response, as if the admission had awoken something in his very power. When he didn’t respond beyond that, Nesta forced herself a step forward.

“How are you?”

He exhaled a shaky breath.

“I would be better were this our kilhamine, and I were waiting for you at the end of that aisle instead of Adan.”

It was a thought she’d spent all day trying to avoid, and hearing him say it out loud made her heart ache.

“I may say the words to Adan, but my vows will be to you.”

Inside the hall the drums seemed to intensify, and Nesta felt the time between them slipping away like sand through an hourglass.

“I’m sorry I did not believe you when I had the chance. Perhaps if I had—” she could hear the tears in her own voice, even knowing she couldn’t let them escape.

Cassian only shook his head.

“I would forgive you anything,” he said. “And in this case there is nothing to forgive. I only ask now that you don’t give up on me.”

“I could never,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Even in my darkest rage I could not hate you the way I longed to.”

The drums changed again, growing more rhythmic. Nesta and Cassian seemed to realize at the same moment they’d run out of time, and in an instant he was there, crushing Nesta against the wall as he kissed her. She strung an arm around his neck to pull him closer and he lifted her nearly off her feet, his tongue brushing hers as he slid his leg between her thighs to keep her upright. Even that slight touch was enough to set her body on fire, and she moaned softly into his mouth.

“Nes,” he groaned, winging flaring slightly as she pressed closer, her breast flush against his chest. “Nesta.”

Her fingers dug into leathers as he moved to her neck, lips brushing the first spot on her body he’d ever touched. She forgot everything but him as he grazed her pulse point with his teeth. A primal fae part of her wanted him to sink them into her flesh in a claiming mark, even knowing such a thing would be damning giveaway—

“Cassian.”

The muscles in Cassian’s back stiffened at hearing Azriel’s voice, but after a breath he gently extricated himself from her embrace, easing her back to the floor and smoothing her rumpled gown.

“You’re needed in the great hall,” Azriel said. “People have begun to take note of your absence.”

Cassian nodded before turning back to Nesta, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

“Cassian, now,” Azriel prompted, and as Cassian made to leave, the Shadowsinger caught his arm. “And take more care the next time. Anyone could have seen you two just now.”

Cassian didn’t offer a retort, just gave Nesta a last lingering look before disappearing down the hall towards the ball door into the great hall.

She felt hollowed out in his absence, her legs wobbling like a fawn’s as she fought to keep herself composed after his touch had threatened to undo her.

She was grateful at least that Azriel didn’t seem inclined to comment, and after several steadying breaths she accepted his proffered arm. As with the day before, her gown was heavy and unwieldy, and her corset tight enough that every step was an effort.

She found her breaths growing shorter and shorter as the gates groaned open, and she began to fear she might faint if her corset wasn’t loosened.

However, after a moment she felt an invisible shield of air forming around her nose and mouth, allowing her to take in her own oxygen.

“You’re having a panic attack,” Azriel whispered from her side. “I know it’s difficult, but take deep breaths and try to relax.”

Nesta might have snapped back at him where she not under such duress, but instead she simply did as he instructed, taking in great lungfuls of the cool, cedar-tinted air and blowing it out of her mouth as the gates yawned open and they started up the aisle under the watchful eyes of several hundred guests. At first Nesta tried to focus her attention on Adan, but she quickly found it only had the panic rising in her chest. After struggling once again to regain control, she let her eyes settle on Cassian instead.

It was like a dagger to the heart seeing him there, standing up and to the left of where he should have been, at the middle of the dais waiting for her. However, it was a pain Nesta welcomed, because it at least served as a reminder that this was real and not some fever dream born of loneliness and despair.

Cassian’s expression remained impassive as she made her way to the dais, but when his lips moved almost imperceptibly she knew what he was saying.

Te cакам. I love you.

She didn’t dare acknowledge the sentiment with even a nod, reaching instead to smooth the cardinal silk of her gown. His eyes glittered at the gesture, and though it wasn’t enough to fill Nesta’s aching heart, for now she let it be enough.

She was close enough to the dais now that she let her gaze drift to Adan. He looked as beautiful as she’d even seen him, the livery collar of syphons draped across his broad chest glittering the same color as his dark eyes. She studied him—his posture and the pair of ornamental curved blades hanging at either hip—and wondered for the hundredth time if she could trust him. Perhaps he was innocent in all this, and she could trust him to break the engagement without scandal or conflict once proof of his cousin’s treachery was unveiled. Or perhaps he’d orchestrated the whole affair, and they would end up with a civil war before the decade was out. Nesta hated herself for her selfishness, but what she feared more than war was marrying Adan, whether he was guilty or not.

Her knees nearly buckled under the weight of Adan’s gaze as he watched her make her way up the aisle towards him, the silk of her gown hissing like a serpent as it dragged on the stone floor. He was smiling, his gaze still soft with reverence , but she could see the eagerness as well—the desire to possess that ran deep in the Illyrian male blood.

She would be his.

Perhaps not forever, if things went according to plan, but at least while they were bound by this betrothal, some part of her—of her freedom—would belong to Adan. The thought was enough to make her mouth water with impending bile as she made her way closer.

She could feel Rhysand eying her as she stepped onto the dais, Azriel melting from her side and taking his rightful place at the High Lord’s left. Unable to help herself, she glanced up at Rhysand .He was as resplendent as ever, having donned his crown of ravens’ wings whose glinting gems matched the sparkling in his mesmerizing blue eyes. There was a knowing in his gaze as he studied her, expression neutral but gaze keen.

I am different because I know what you’d be sacrificing,, he’d said to her in Illyria. I know what it is to cede your power, to bed and obey someone who you don’t love.

Is that what this was, a concession? It was hard to let herself believe so, especially if arrangement turned out to be temporary. Still, some part of her couldn’t deny what she stood to lose.

You’re mine, Adan had told her in the nightmare she’d once had about him. Unless proof of his complicity could be unearthed, he’d been right: she would be his, and it wouldn’t just be for a few months.

It would be for eternity.

Nesta’s pulse had begun to buzz in her ears again as she accepted Adan’s hand, so loud now that she couldn’t hear Rhysand’s words as he addressed the assembly and offered his blessing to the union.

She could do this, Nesta reminded herself as Rhysand wrapped the customary silk around her and Adan’s wrists.

For Feyre, and Elain, and the baby. For peace in the realm and a respite from war and death.

It was the same refrain she’d played for herself the previous day, though it had begun to wear thin as her courage waned at the silk being tightened to signify the bond of the kilhamine.

So she added a final name, one she hadn’t dared to include before, even as it had haunted her every thought.

For Cassian.

For the life they may yet share. Despite the pain the truth had brought, Nesta felt hope—long dormant—swelling in her chest. Cassian was hers and she is, and she would find the truth and set them both free.

Her gaze slid to Lazar over Adan’s shoulder, his smile overripe with self-satisfaction.

Forcing all her remaining steel into her expression, Nesta met his eyes.

You will not win, she vowed to herself. You may be winning now, but I will see you laid low before the end.

She felt an echo of what felt like agreement resonate through her with surprising warmth, and she knew it must have been the bond. She was not alone, she reminded herself as she focused on Adan again. No matter the road she had to travel going forward, no matter how narrow or how steep, Nesta was not alone.

And neither was she powerless.

She was the heir of the dreaded Cauldron and the mate of one of the most powerful Illyrians ever born, and she’d come at last to see justice done. And not Adan, nor Lazar, nor the Mother herself would be able to stop her.

She was Nesta Archeron, acolyte of Death, and she was about to be unleashed.

Next Time on Like a Lonely House…

Lieutenant Na’ahmah stiffened.

“You wish me to betray my prince’s confidence, is that it?”

Rhys shifted in his seat, gaze steady.

“I wish to know where there is cancer in Illyria so that I may cut it out before it spreads. I am not accusing your prince of anything, merely asking the question.”

“You speak of Illyrians as if you are not one of us.”

Rhys shrugged.

“I am only half-Illyrian, and I have faced my fair share of prejudice for that fact. You will forgive me if I lack your ardent patriotism, admirable though it may be.”

A muscle feathered in the lieutenant’s jaw, but she otherwise remained silent.

“Have you something to add, Na’ahmah?’

She shifted on her feet, wings rustling.

“May I speak freely, My Lord?”

Rhys’s eyebrows rose.

“Of course. Always.”

Na’ahmah nodded, glancing down at her polished boots as if to compose herself before looking Rhys straight in the eyes.

“Also long as you consider Illyria to be brutal and backwards, it will be. And every time you treat us like savages, you support those who seek to uphold the old ways and silence those who would see things change. Adan is a bright light after centuries of darkness, and he would sooner destroy himself than see Illyria harmed.”

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If you’d like to be tagged, please comment below. As always, I look forward to hearing what you think! Love you all, and stay safe 💗

POST SCRIPT: I don’t often include links to the clothing or character references I use because I think it undercuts my story-telling ability if I simply post links to the things I describe. HOWEVER, the reference for the headdress Nesta wears is SO divine you simply have to see it, so click the link to see this gorgeous kinaree headdress with macaw feathers from a vendor called SerpentFeathers. You will not be disappointed.

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