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penvisions · 2 months

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of beskar and kyber {chapter 18}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader) ; brief Force Sensitive! Reader and M!OC

Summary: There are restrictions for entering the main city, some of them Din could agree to and one he absolutely could not. His helmet would need to be left behind, but isn't removing it what caused this entire situation to begin with? Meanwhile, you wake to a new environment, cautious of the things around you and the words of your mother.

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, we meet readers betrothed and he needs his own warning, reader's mother also gets her own warning, kidnapping, reader is being kept against her will, hostage situation, use of narcotics, use of drugs, sedatives, self-depreciating thoughts, thoughts of self-harm, ptsd symptoms, medical trauma, past medical trauma, feelings of inadequacy, sexual themes, sexual content (not detailed), there are a few more but they will spoil the chapter!

A/N: more din pov! because it's so much fun and there are some things y'all need to see through his eyes before some explanations are given c;

all of you were right to think din is gonna need a disguise! but i don't want anyone to think that the desert environment and the choice of clothing is ignorant on my part in light of what is going on in palestine. i've had this original arc planned before the first chapter was even published. here are some resources for aiding those that need help. i've also provided a link to the moodboard for this particular arc, which does include a visual for din's new attire

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Maker, your mother was really doing her best to keep you to herself. It was smart to warn the protection around you of him, to anticipate that he would make an attempt to take you back. But he loathed how much harder it was going to make even just getting into the city.

The weapons he could forgo, but his armor? She knew from her past experience with Akiz that it was a punishable offense for a Mandalorian to remove their helmet. And it was frustrating that she was using his religion, his Creed, his culture, his way of life to keep him at bay and to keep you under her control.

It was an injustice he couldn’t wrap his head around. It was just so conniving, and it was hard to believe how you had turned out so drastically different when being surrounded by someone capable of such extremes. He only hoped that your mother hadn’t done anything drastic to you, caused you to take matters into your own hands. He only hoped that you knew he had spent the last several weeks tearing through the galaxy in search for signs of what had happened to you. That he had rushed toward the planet you were taken to the second he had found it out.

Din needed you to know that he was trying, that he was searching for you, that he missed your presence by his side and aboard his ship. And not simply for the fact that you were a strong, capable fighter. But because the things he had whispered and promised you before he ruined it all were true. He did care for you. He had begun to care for you alarmingly fast after that first encounter.

And maybe it should’ve scared him, been a warning he heeded, the way his heart had lightened and opened up to you. Even despite the circumstances and the breaking of his contract with the Guild. He had been willing to change the circumstances, to do away with the contract he took on when his fingers closed around your offered tracking fob. Because it had felt right to do so, despite the inherent break of what he stood for in that moment. His willingness to do so, it only made him realize that this was real, because he had never felt like this with anyone before. Had never wanted to provide for anyone aside from those that made up his covert before. He had meant it when he had choked out those words back on Nevarro.

“I can’t wear that.” Din had been cautious as he looked out the cockpit viewpoint and down into the hangar space. The looming racetrack just beyond it, offset from the main city. Crowds and clusters of people swathed in billowing layers and a severe lack of weaponry was a worrisome observation. Upon her return from the markets, offset from the other side of the city, Cara had held out a bundle of clothing to him.

“I did enough recon to know the guards are the only people permitted into the palace without verification. That Sarad’s always surrounded by at least two of them when outside of the palace, though her mother never joins her outside the walls.”

“Because she knows I’d kill her on sight.” Din can’t help the growl of his words, knowing the truth behind them was all too real. Because he would, without hesitation, take out the threat that had presented itself after lying in wait. Striking at the most opportune moment even months after having first contracted your return to her when it seemed like it was fruitless.

“This the only way you’ll get close enough to her, by blending in.” Cara shimmied the bundle at him, wanting him to take it from her despite his trepidation.

“My face will be exposed.” He argued as he stepped away from her. His mind and thoughts at war with the notion of having to remove his armor and the one of doing it in order to save you. He picked up a grumbling ad’ika from where he had been settled in his pod. Taking a pack of dried jerky from the pouch attached to his belt and handed it to him. Happy coos filled the hull of the ship, Din helping to reach into the pouch for each piece the child devoured.

“They wear head coverings and cover their faces. More than a third of the people I saw. Both men and women. I know it’s not ideal, Din,” Cara risked using the man’s real name. Wanting him to hear her and believe that this was the best way, the only way to move about with having to worry about being stopped or appearing suspicious. Hoping to convince him it was the best scenario to avoid showing his whole face should he have to forgo his helmet. She didn’t seem too keen on having to don similar clothing that left little room to conceal a weapon. “Some have mesh over their eyes.”

Din reached out, taking the outfit from her. He would try it on, get a sense of how he felt in the clothing before making his decision. He had half a mind to fly the ship directly into the palace grounds and open fire until you were safely back in his arms. But realistically he knew that was a terrible plan. The man who you had been promised to was entrenched in the New Republic, someone of high standing and to attack him would bring on a whole new level of concerns into his life, into your life.

Setting ad’ika back down into the pod, Din tucked your cloak around him before making his way to the room.

What use was all his armor and weapons if he couldn’t keep you safe? The thought was sharp in his mind as he set about removing each plate, the clasps snapping in the silence of the ship. He stored them in a crate he had brought from his own ship. In it was the pair of pauldrons you had left behind. The armor settled together tugged at his heart, making his chest tights as he wished for you nestled beside him in his bed much like the beskar in the crate. Closing it and setting a lock on it, he already missed the feel of his vambraces, of the weapons hidden over his frame.

Despite being alone, he kept the cowl about his neck in place. The necklace of his people hidden beneath it and he wondered where the one he had gifted you ended up. The ship foreign to him, giving him pause in removing it as he looked over the robes Cara had collected for him. They were all black. Made of a light, flowing material that would cover his entire body. And he began to pull the wide legged pants over his legs.

The top was less a shirt and more of a tunic, cut shorter in the front to fall just below his waist. It offered coverage of his crotch, while the length billowed out down to his knees on either side. He wondered if he should chance donning the chainmail he had retrieved from your home on Tatooine underneath it. He felt exposed, too vulnerable even as he set about fastening the brown leather harness to cross over his chest from his shoulders and the belt that had an empty pouch fastened to it on his left.

Two arm braces made of bronze had been folded up in the clothing, and he slid those over his forearms, grateful for at least something similar.

Thankfully Cara had been able to find something that would allow him to cover his face- mostly. His eyes would be exposed, and he wouldn’t be entirely comfortable forgoing a visor or something similar to hide them behind.

But he set about containing his trimmed curls underneath the cover, wrapping it around twice before securing it with a black leather tie around his forehead, letting the rest of the fabric fall over the back of his neck and shoulders. The smaller black kerchief was secured over the cowl, adding another layer to hide his identity from the world, fastened behind his head and tucked into the leather keeping the head cover in place.

It would be harder for him to track you, to pick up on threats without the settings of the helmet, but he knew that it would immediately warrant attention. He had to leave it behind, depart from the ship without it. It was the only way he would be able to do his own reconnaissance.

Sighing, he turned to face the mirror set into the wall beside the door.

He didn’t recognize the man staring back at him. He was swathed in flowing black from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. His boots no longer weighed down with a hidden blade or the ring of bullet casings for his pulse rifle.

Sharp brown eyes set under thick, dark brows the only visible part.

Still far too much to be seen. To be witnessed so easily by those around him. By you.

Worry spiked in him, you wouldn’t know it was him. At least, not at first glance. He hoped you would feel a pull to him similar to the one he felt when around you. A comfort in the closeness of your body and presence. A familiarity and sense of connection, the things you had found in each other allowing you to recognize that it was him beneath the different clothing, what was always beneath the armor and helmet.

Self-consciousness, he realized, was the feeling making his stomach flutter and his nerves jittery. He hadn’t been outside of the ship and around people without his armor since he had been inducted into the training corps. He hadn’t been without his helmet since swearing the Creed. The thought of this breeching such a commitment crosses his mind. And while…yes, he had removed his helmet, his face was still concealed.

It was much like the unspoken loophole of removing it in the cover of darkness. The intention of which would have allowed him to give into your pleas for his lips on yours. That he had wanted to do, despite the skimming of lines that should not be crossed. The lines that defined his Creed.

He looked…like one of the natives of the planet. And that was the only consolation he could find in the need for the outfit.

They’re merely walking through the marketplace, when they see you among the stalls. Din’s instincts urging him to turn onto the street.

You’re right there.

You’re real.

You’re okay.

His heart skips a beat and then quickens, nearly vibrating it’s so fast a pitch. His breath stolen from his lungs as he sees you moving among the crowds. You…you’re so beautiful and luck seems to be on his side as you look unharmed. You seem to be at ease, moving from stall to stall with a pair of guards trailing behind you by a few yards. Black flowing robes much like his own, but the rapier style swords fastened to their sides acted as a silent threat. Weapons in the main part of the city were forbidden.

But you…you were so magnetizing, and Din’s feet were carrying him toward the stall you had stopped in front of. Distantly, he heard the hush of Cara warning him to be cautious. But it was as if the world had shrunk down to just you, his eyes tracking you as if you would vanish should he look away for the barest of seconds.

The fabric of your rather elegant dress a mix of soft white and pale cream. It highlighted the natural golden hue of your skin, though the only part visible was the length of your neck down to your chest with a rather low neckline. The supple skin of your breasts was accented by sparkling golden beading along the collar, creating a dip between them where it was concentrated. The bodice of the dress was cinched by an intricate belt made up of diamond jewels set into gold that created a floral shape right over your stomach before the skirt of the dress billowed out in flowing layers.

The sleeves were long, bishop in style, allowing for the fabric to be loose before cinching around your wrists. Allowing for you strong, capable hands to be exposed. Golden designs of lace woven into the fabric of them and the front of you below where the belt rested on your front. You were sparkling, from the bangles around your wrists to the delicate headpiece that kept your hair away from your face. He could see it as you moved about to take in the fruits of the stall, the way that thin netting was laid over the length of your hair, stones glittering in the sun as you did so. You were a vision bathed in white and gold, his brain short circuiting at the sight of you after so long apart.

But you didn’t look to be a captive, aside from the guards keeping close. No, you looked like you were free of worries, complicit in the life you had been stolen away to be a part of. It was as if this was just another day to run errands and take in the sights of the city, no undertones of eyes glancing around to look for an escape. No tension in your muscles as if poised to run at the first chance. And alarm bells sounded in Din’s mind, loud and harsh. Stirring unease in his middle, bubbling up to tighten in his chest.

He couldn’t help but approach you, even if he had no clue what words to breathe should he be able to find his voice. Even if he had no clue how you would react to seeing him after the emotional fallout from so many days ago. But when you turned to him with a smile, lips closed and eyes kind, they only flitted over his face before they moved down along his body toward where ad’ika had popped his head and chest over the top of the bag slung over his shoulder.

He certainly hadn’t expected you to recognize him, he was without his armor. And though you knew the shape of his body and the way it reacted to your touch; you didn’t know him as he stood beside you now. In flowing black robes and brown leather, a head cover secure over his curls and a flowing material hiding his face aside from his eyes. He realized you wouldn’t be able to recognize them, having never seen the brown of them before. And he greedily drunk in the sight of you without his helmet, delighting in the way the sun lit up the features he had come to admire.

But your attention wasn’t even on him, it was on the small form that had reached out for the bundle of berries in your grip. Plucking one and popping it in his mouth with a satisfied hum. But there was no recognition that flickered over your face upon seeing ad’ika either. It was as if you were seeing him for the first time, a polite curiosity in your gaze. And Din’s gut lurched.

It hadn’t been long enough for you to forget the child, forget him. Forget the life the three of you had carved out from circumstance. Unless you were playing along to not alert the guards of being reunited, not wanting them to suspect anything was amiss. But…but Din didn’t think you were pretending. There had been no fast glance back to him upon seeing the child crop up, there had been no hitch of your breath as realization of him standing beside you set in.

It was as if you didn’t know him at all, know the small form of the child holding your adoring attention.

“Well, hello there, little one.” Your voice was so smooth and calming, like silk against his ears after having not heard it in so many days. He watched as you tilted the bowl closer, making it easier for a tiny green claw to retrieve another berry. A laugh bubbled from you as the child smacked on the fruit, happy sounds flowing from him unbidden.

And then, with a simple question, Din’s heart shattered.

“He’s rather cute, is this your child?”

You had focused your attention back up to him, though you avoided his eyes again. Something he was beginning to think was just a part of every version of you. Because the one standing in front of him was not his own. It couldn’t be.

Words, so many of them, burst to life and died on his tongue in the silence between you two. None of them making it past his lips, his voice lost in injustice of finally being reunited with you and you having no clue as to who he was. Of how much you had been through together, the promises you had whispered to each other, the soft sighs of waking up together, the harsh grunts and desperate whimpers shared between yearning bodies. You had no clue what you meant to him. The only thing he was certain of, was that he was a stranger to you.

Clearing his throat, he managed to utter an affirmative to your gentle question.

“I’ve never seen any like him before, he seems like the sweetest thing.”

And he wanted to tell you that you allowed for him to be so, for the child to have the protection of your skills and caring heart to be just a child after being held a captive for so long. That he had stolen him away from those who wished him harm with your aid. But suddenly, you were being approached by the vendor, your attention splitting from them both beside you.

“Ma’am, you’ll have to pay for- oh, Princess Cala. I’m so sorry.” Strict words and steal façade falling as the man approaching realized who you were. Princess. Because that’s what you were, had been swiped from him to be another’s wife. All memories of your commitment to him forgotten in a cruel twist of fate that Din was determined to get to the bottom of. To rectify. Though he had no clue how to even begin such a daunting task as he was still struggling to accept that it was so. “I was unaware you were in the markets today. Please, take whatever you wish. I will send for payment from Sir Cala at the end of the day.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright.” You appeased gently, hands digging into a small pouch hidden among the layers of your dress. Credits clinked as you set them down atop the table, the jingling of your bracelets catching ad’ika’s attention and he reached for them. “It’s just a little snack today, nothing too crazy.”

As the vendor turned back to duck inside, away from the bright sun and the watching eyes of the guards, it happened.

Ad’ika’s skin connected with your own and you were buckling at the sudden energy that Din could feel flow between you both. Ripples of is cascading through the air. Body overwhelmed and knees weakening at the onslaught as a strangled gasp fell from your lips. Just as you had done back at the compound, history repeating itself in a way he hadn’t expected. He was quick to close the distance, to wrap his arms around you and hold you up. You allowed him to pull you close, your chest flush with his as heaving breaths matched his stuttering ones.

His body igniting at the feel of you against him once again. Of the way your hands gripped his arms to support yourself. The prick of your fingers digging into his muscles and the way your mouth had fallen open in surprise. It was all so normal, the reactions of your body against his. Natural, the magnetism between your bodies making everything feel alright even if it was just for the barest second.

“I’ve got you, mesh’la. Are you alright?” Voice low, he felt it robbed from him when your lashes fluttered, and your eyes met for the first time. They glinted with something and then –

“Unhand the princess, no one is to touch her!” Twin forms of the guards watching over you were suddenly closing in. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to not take all your weight securely into his arms and run. Hush of swords being pulled from their sheaths had you tearing your eyes away from him, had you shifting your footing to hold yourself up a little better though you didn’t let go of him. And he was grateful for the prolonged seconds of getting to feel you in his arms.

“It’s alright!” You assured the guards, halting them in their steps with a polite smile. “I just tripped is all!”

Loosening the hold he had on you, his hands remained steady as you stepped back from him to stand on your own once again. He was aware of the hard looks aimed at him, as distance bloomed between your bodies.

Endlessly considerate and caring toward the ad’ika, even if you didn’t know it, you carefully handed the bushel of berries into his small claws.

You were bidding him goodbye with an impersonal bow. And he wished to feel the unspoken greeting and departing habit of your forehead nudged against his own you two had established over the course of your time together.

He fell in line behind them, a safe distance away to not attract their attention or suspicions. His focus so completely on you, the captivation you held over him even now, especially now, spelling his feet forward through the last of the market and through the streets. He was silent as Cara fell into step beside him, questions flowing from her that fell on his straining ears. You were talking with the guards, though it seemed like you were merely confirming the rest of the plans for the day.

And they would know, they would be by your side every time you left the palace, he mused as he watched your trio wait outside of the large wooden doors that led into the place you now called home. It was surrounded by a large, easily fifteen-foot wall made up of decorative tiles and white stone. He caught a glimpse of large gardens, complete with bright blue ponds and lush plant life making a beautiful backdrop to your form. But his eyes snapped back to you, taking notice of how the guards had begun to walk away and toward a small building that must act as their command center. They were replaced by two young women, dressed in long pale blue layers that followed your every step.

As you began to move along the paths lined throughout the garden, a figure approached you. And the tension Din had been worried to not see in your shoulders seemed to slam into you. The figure moved from beneath the shade of a large palm, having been waiting on a bench. It was a woman, one who bore a strong resemblance to you from tone of skin to the color of your eyes. Your mother.

Arms were slung together and Din could see even with the distance how her touch made you uncomfortable. And it was all so confusing. You remembered your mother, memories of her intact but you had somehow forgotten who he was, who ad’ika was. Forgotten who you were enough to not make an attempt to escape, submitting yourself to the life your mother had created for you.

And then, a man in elaborate robes adorned with jewels and lace designs much like your own approached you both. He was dressed in colors that complimented your own clothing. His own jewelry fastened over his head cover much like yours, though decidedly heavier, more masculine to the dainty feminine of yours. Matching.

A hand came over his shoulder as he realized he was breathing harshly, no helmet to disguise the deep push and pull of it as he watched you disentangle from your mother and step into the man’s personal space. The front of your bodies touching together as his hands splayed wide on your shoulders, as your own wrapped around his neck. As you perked up to press your forehead to his, in the way that was Din’s.

His chest hurt, his hands clenched, body alight with the need to rush forward and tear the two of you apart from each other. His ears hurt with the silence pressing against them too firm to shake. To press his own forehead against your own and plead with you to see him, to remember him. Remember what you meant to each other.

It was a small blessing of the Maker that your back was to him, because he didn’t think he would be able to take the way your gaze had softened as you looked into the eyes of the man holding you. The same one he would find aimed at him throughout the day, mirth in your eyes as your lips pulled into a soft smile. Adoration and admiration soothing the concentrated look you normally held. Not when the man looking back at you held the same exact expression.

The one always hidden behind his visor.

The same face that was now hardened in a flurry of emotions, his jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding, and eyes ablaze as he watched the man dip his face and press his lips to yours in a kiss.

A kiss.

The very thing that had unraveled the entire life you two had created out of circumstance and connection, the very thing you now shared with another.

Your easy laughter was what brought his senses back, though it was cut off from him as quickly as it had been delivered as you began to walk hand in hand with the man down the path leading to the palace entrance.

Din’s mind was working, working, working. Trying to figure it out, trying to come up it a way to figure it out. To rectify it. To make it right. To make everything right.

And as if a chip was falling into place, he realized. They could fall into line as a guard and a handmaiden.

It was so obvious, so easy, the plan coming together in his mind as the wooden doors swung shut and stole you away from his watching gaze.

“Mando…” Cara’s voice was gentle, as if she was worried she would startle him. Spur him into movement toward you, tackling the obstacles that stood between you both despite the consequences. “I don’t know exactly what-“

“We’ll talk back at the ship.” His words were rough, voice rumbling as if he had just swallowed gravel. It felt thick in his throat, coating his tongue and making it hard to speak.

“It’s customary for visitors to stay in the tourism sector.”

“I’m…low on credits.” He admitted, aware that his words were carried on deep exhales, air hard and solid when breathed in. Aching, hurting, stinging in his throat as he closed his eyes to rid himself of the image of you embraced so intimately with that man, with your husband. But the image was burned into the backs of his eyelids, pressing on him even as he clenched them shut.

“Good thing I’m not. Let’s go, I have a feeling you’re going to tell me this isn’t going to be as simple as sneaking in at night and whisking her away.”

Din followed the woman’s lead through the city, through the gates and toward the collection of tourism amenities. The sounds of the ocean waves getting louder the further they moved away from the palace.

The suite was grand, decorated lavishly in soft earth tones. Bright jewel tones accenting it all around.

But Din’s eyes were unfocused, unseeing as they stared down at the carpet, his head in his hands as he sat rigidly on the couch. With a deep breath pulled in and then let out, he deflated. Chest tight like he was being retrained with ropes, his limbs tingling as if the blood was having trouble flowing through them. His nerves felt both numb and overwhelmed all at the same time.

Cara just paced around the room, searching for potential bugs while she ensured ad’ika was settled in a chair with the fruit you had bought for them in a bowl for him to occupy himself. Din’s voice returned to him when he felt the couch shift with her weight on the other side.

“She doesn’t know who I am.”

“I wouldn’t recognize you, Mando, it’s just the clothes. I’m sure she was just pretending to be clueless to avoid suspicion. She saw ad’ika and even got him those berries.”

“No. Cara.” He surged up, feeling the need to move. To be on his feet, his mind hurling endless self-depreciating thoughts. This was all his fault, you were in the arms of another man because of him, your mother had been able to snatch you away because of his carelessness. His lack of speed when chasing after you, his lack of ability to have tracked you down and bring you back to the Crest as quickly as possible. He had failed you, he had failed you beyond comprehension and you didn’t even remember it.

He meant nothing to you, he was a stranger to you. While you willingly lived alongside that man who had every intention of letting you know how much he wanted you, desired you, who kriffing kissed you.

Aware of her eyes on him, Din paced back and forth in front of the couch. Feeling the need to move, to run, to chase, to track, to fix. She was watching him, a conflicted look about her features as she thought over the things they witnessed. The blatant issues that they had to move around in order to get to you.

Maker, what if…what if you shared the man’s bed. That would add another layer of complication to breaking you free of your imprisonment. Was it even imprisonment anymore? Did it qualify if you didn’t know the people who surrounded you were the ones who had manipulated you so completely, so intricately that they had somehow wiped your memory and fed you a story of what they wanted their lives to be in order to make it a reality?

Even if he could manage to convince you that you weren’t meant to be a dank ferrick princess in a palace, how would he prove to you that you were meant to be with him? His ship was old, needed repairs too often, his way of life, it all paled in comparison to the residence you had now, the quality of life you had now. How was he supposed to make you understand that he cared about you and that you cared about him if you didn’t know who he was?

Your mother certainly knew what she was doing. From the wiping of your memory to make it harder for him to convince you that your life was a sham, a lie, a false thing made up by those around you to the warning posters of him plastered around the city. The version of you he knew was wary of strangers and he would bet everything in his name that you still held that reservation. That anything he or Cara had to say wouldn’t be taken lightly, most likely result in their immediate order of removal should you find them guilty of trying to manipulate you.

“She doesn’t remember me. Or ad’ika. Her mother must’ve done something to her. There was no recognition in her eyes.” Heart thudding hard in his aching chest, Din couldn’t stop the sob that wracked through him. “I’m nothing to her.”

Darkness and the pull of the cold feeling drumming through your veins lightening ever so slightly as you begin to rouse, body limp and not heeding your commands to move. Alone. You’re alone. Metal clinking and heavy around your wrists and ankles. Around your neck.

You’re shackled, restrained, drugged.

Like so many times before, like you had never wanted to be again.

It’s quiet, unnervingly so.

Opening your eyes doesn’t allow you more of the setting you’re in, only darkness of the room you’re hidden away in. Gravity lurches and you know, can sense it: that you’re aboard a ship that has just taken off into the air. Traveling and distance growing, taking you away from them. From him.

Had he even realized you were gone? That you had been seeking solace, a way to return to him without shame prickling your skin and guilt flooding you, body tight and mind remorseful.

Everything was a haze. Everything jumbled up into a messy recollection. The pleasure that had been igniting you, the feel of his fingers deep and hitting that spot just right, building you up and tearing down your inhibitions. Enough so that you had pleaded with him for the one thing you knew he wouldn’t give you. And then it was gone, shifting to rejection. The blank, emotionless helmet shielding the way he must’ve been so repulsed by your question, your desperation to have more of him when he had already given you so much. Needy, selfish, you had been so wrapped up in him that you had offended him beyond words. Warped the path you two had been traveling together, guiding him without realizing it, off the distinguished trail and into the unknown. To the forbidden. Toward sin.

You had tried to convince him to break his Creed.

Heart heavy and mind trying to piece everything back together, you convulsed. Shocks ripping through you at the sudden movement.

Whimpering, you felt it was more than deserved. This punishment, being forced to submit once again at the hands of your mother. All of it was because of the temptation you had dared to whisper to a man so devoted. He would’ve lost everything had he followed you into it. From the very identity of himself to the new standing of a clan he had just been granted. All gone.

And for what? A measly kiss with someone who didn’t even know how to want without asking for too much. A shared mingling of breath and teeth and tongue with someone who should’ve been long dead for their own sins.

Brightness burst into the room, assaulting your senses as footsteps shuffled close.

The prick of a needle sharp, the swoop of your nerves being calmed and then raised to tingling heights.

A gentle caress of a hand on your cheek and the last thought you had before you were pulled back into the darkness heart more than anything your mother could do to you:

He hadn’t come after you. He had let you walk away.

We can’t…I-I don’t...

Through the hull and off the ship, let you slip into the crowd where he hoped you would disappear from his sight. Vanish from his life and taking the sins you had tempted him with.

Compliant. You would be compliant this time around. Now knowing that there was nothing else for you, the entire galaxy making a mockery of your attempt at finding a life other than this. The blood of so many on your hands and cleaned off the hilt of your saber, the reason as to why you didn’t deserve happiness or comfortability. That you hadn’t deserved him.

And it hurt. More than the throbbing high spurred on by the drugs in your system. More than the memories of everything you had ever known being ripped from your desperate hands, not once but twice. The thought of him simply sat on that cot still, slowly dressing, gathering the things you had left behind and shoving them in a crate to never be opened again, hurt. The thought of him climbing toward the cockpit and bringing the ship to life, of guiding it up into the air and leaving the planet behind, leaving you behind, hurt. It was devastating.

Because you knew, you know he would’ve come to your aid if he had known what had happened. That you had been on your way back to the ship with an apology on your tongue when you had been ambushed. You know he would’ve protected you, even if he didn’t want you. Out of some sort of personal obligation, out of the empty commitment he had made to you that now felt like a ploy to get you into his bed.

He had known your past, seen the evidence of it in your words and nightmares. He had known to how use it to his advantage, to whisper sweet nothings and notions of care beyond what you could provide him with your body to get exactly that. He had known to not pressure you, to let you come to him and he would get what he wanted all along. The same as every man, only seeing you as a body to warm your bed.

But…he wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. I love you.

He had said it first, as he bled out on that dirty cantina floor as the building crumbled around you both.

Anything spoken by a man of few words had to mean something. Had to be genuine. Had to be real.

And that hurt far worse, that he cared and had still let you walk away. Disappear into the crowd of the planet, only to be taken hostage and away from him. That he had let it happen.

The confusing and painful thoughts circling around in your sluggish mind were cut short, turned to smoke that wafted away when the metallic clang of what had to the locking mechanism on the door to where you were being kept. Artificial light filtered into the room, blinding you as your eyes tried to adjust to the sudden shift from near blinding darkness. A soft voice was speaking to you, thought you couldn’t make out the words. Brain scrambled and too loaded up to understand.

It was astonishing, really, even through the haze, that your mother’s hands were gentle on you despite the things she subjected you to. Comforting caresses and fingers moving your hair and clothing in ways to avoid pinching or pain as she removed the shackles and began to untangle you from the chains that had wrapped around you. It felt like a loss, to no longer have them pressing into your skin, no longer holding you up as your head rolled on hard to hold up neck.

“Oh oh oh, it’s okay, sweetie, I’ve got you.” Your mother’s voice was syrupy sweet, coating you in its allure. The only thing you truly knew was real in this moment of time. Her hands helped you up on weak legs, arms going around your waist to hold you to her, support most of your weight. “We’re home, my darling. I think it’s gonna treat us well, this time around.”

Confusion colored your senses and prompted a warbled sound to fall from your lips as she led you to the fresher. She helped to disrobe you, carefully peeling the clothing from your scuffed and sweaty skin. The weight of your hair being let loose from its braided updo stirred the beginnings of a headache. Trying to establish itself even in the presence of the drugs thrumming through your veins.

She washed you free of the sweat and grime that had built up on your skin in the time it had taken to guide your sluggish and unaware form onto a ship for travel.

Hands that didn’t feel like her own filled your senses. Larger than hers, rougher than hers, more intentional than hers. The feeling being washed away along with the suds and bubbles down the drain as you felt the prick of something in your neck and everything became fuzzy.

Things slowly returned to you as you felt the hum weighted over you lighten. Gravity shifted and a feeling of foreboding bubbled up in your stomach, prickling the instincts compressed inside your mind until they could do nothing but trigger ever so slightly. The hush of the door opening had you shifting atop the bedding, looking toward it to see the shadow of your mother approaching you with a cloak.

But it wasn’t yours, because the one you had been gifted, the one with the beautiful floral clasps to keep it closed, had been left behind in your haste. Haste to run from the feelings of inadequacy and heartbreak that threatened to overwhelm you even if you couldn’t piece together the specifics. Too overcome with the things your mother pressed into your veins to have you sluggish and heeding her commands.

The flash of a shiny reflection of sunlight against the metal of a sword stirred something in you as you walked alongside her. She was supporting most of your weight, guiding you along down the ramp of the ship and you paused at the sight before you. Blinking, ensuring that the image wouldn’t melt away and that it was real, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

A garden. Lush and green, was stretched out before a grand palace of white and sandy stone. Pillars and domes accent the different parts of grand sight. It was magnificent and entirely too complicated for you to be able to find a way to escape once within the walls. Guards cloaked in black were stationed at the main entrance and along entryways within the halls. Women in rich jewel tones scattered about the palace as your mother guided you through it, being led herself by a man who held an air of authority about himself.

Your heart beating fast, dizzyingly fast and your breath becomes labored, pitchy. It garners the attention of your mother, the shift from quiet to increasing panic as your led further into the maze of halls and buildings. She holds the control to the shackles about your wrists and ankles in her hand, waving it at you to quell the twitching of your muscles as you tried to resist running, of harnessing the Force to send everyone around you flying through the wide hallway. The silent threat of the electricity sparking through your synapses paired with the way the world didn’t feel quite right, everything off kilter and slightly blurry, fuzzy all around you had you obeying her without a word.

She commanded the people around you both as you were ushered through a door into a sterile room, medical equipment and first aid supplies collected in a large cabinet. The medical center, you guessed through the haze and worry spiked through you. What was she going to have them do to you?

With soft words, she urged you to lay down atop one of the cots. Smoothing your hair away from your face with gentle hands as the prick of a needle startled you. An attendant, a man dressed in dark red billowing layers, had stuck you with a syringe.

Before you could form your lips around a question, a plea, the edges of your vision blurred. Within seconds, the room was spinning and your eyes fluttered shut. The last thing you thought of before being pulled under the influence of the sedative was a plea for Din and ad’ika to be safe, wherever they may be.

“Alright,” Your mother chirped once you had fallen unconscious. The man in red regarded her with a blank expression, knowing that he was here for one reason and one reason only. Being paid generously for the use of his skills and the machinery that he possessed. He was one of the few who had been sought out by the New Republic to recalibrate and repurpose something used by the Empire that would prove useful for them as well.

Rumors of such a machine were whispered across the galaxy, most believing them to have been destroyed. But they would be wrong, they were very prevalent in the reformation and reintroduction of the Empire’s countless forces back into the general population. To break the spell of indoctrination imposed on them with low force electric vibrations. The Six-O-Two Mitigator, otherwise known as a Mind Flayer. Curtesy of the royal families firm standing within the New Republic and their generous donations to help fund their endeavors.

“Is it ready?”

“Yes, it’s been calibrated to perform at a higher voltage to achieve what you’ve requested.” He spoke as he watched two attending medics wheel the cot you were laid upon toward the doorway that lead into another room. He followed them, with a wave of his arm to allow for your mother to proceed him. She did so with a dip of her head.

“I’m sure you know how to oblige what is being requested of you. From me and from the Prince. We will settle for nothing less.”

“I do, you want me to target the memory glands.”

“Yes, eradicate anything that sparks in response to the Mandalorians and the Jedi. Warp them if you have to.”

“I will do my best, it may take multiple sessions.”

“That’s quite alright, we are here now. We have the time.”

Something was wrong. Something was missing.

And your head was pounding, a dull pain throbbing at your crown and moving down, down, down to coat your entire body. Groaning, you realized you were laying in a large, plush bed. Pillows and soft blankets surrounding you, having allowed you the comfort to sleep deeply. Deep enough that you couldn’t recall the location of where you were.

The room is beautiful, all pale, soft tones that match the way you had always wanted to decorate your own home one day. But it was a lost thought, something that would never come to fruition. A personal home that you would never have, a home that you would never share, because the people that you love no longer exist to you, faded into blips you can’t recall. But there was one shadow that you could sense in the back of your mind. And it was making you worry about the way you couldn’t fill it. The underlying feeling of something wrong settling low in your gut.

The room is completely foreign as is the scene of a desert city surrounded by large, formidable walls of stone. You now stood on the balcony, having crossed the spacious interior decorated with tapestries and thin beaded curtains to take a look outside. Your body protested the movements, sluggish to respond to your need to figure out where you were.

The door creaked open, a pair of young women with a tray froze as they say you out on the balcony.

And then, a familiar figure shouldered past them with a wide smile.

“Mother?”

“Yes, my sweetheart, how are you feeling?” She was across the room, her arm over your shoulder as she guided you to take a seat in one of two chairs that surrounded a small, low table. Across from them, on the other side, a long, curved couch that looked to be velvet stretched out.

“I feel okay, I’m just a little confused. When did we move….here?” You felt like something was missing still, aside from the curiosity of the foreign environment. You were looking around the room, trying to nudge that vague shadow of whatever it was into a more concrete form. And then it did, the shadow took the form of a man and your heart skipped a beat. “Is he okay?”

“Who, honey?”

“Um…the man I’ve been traveling with. He- he was injured, his…his head!” You felt panic ripple over you, very real and so overwhelming. You had been traveling with someone, that much you knew. But the name, the specifics of him weren’t coming to you. But it felt so real, the phantom feel of the man who you had been with, you carried him with you, and you needed to know if he was okay.

“Honey, he wasn’t the one that fell. You were.”

“Where is he?” Her words didn’t shake the panic settling into your bones. A memory of kneeling in front of an injured man, cradling his face in your hands as he lay before you flashed in your mind’s eye. The feeling of heat washing over you, as if trying to consume you.

“He’s a very busy man, he was going to visit this afternoon.” You mother tried to console you, moving to sit on the arm of your chair and reaching out to cusp a hand over your shoulder.

“I need to see him now!” You stood, anger spiking. Lungs aching for air, for the vision of the man whose touch was ghosting over your skin, whispers of promises and comfort filling your ears. All coming back as the shadow in your mind grew larger and larger, taking space and becoming all consuming,

“Alright, honey, hold-“ She caught your hand as you walked past her, set on searching for him. Needing to see him, to ensure that he was okay. The feeling of warm blood thick on your hands.

“That’s quite alright, Lena.” A deep voice spoke from the open doorway and you felt your knees buckle as you looked over toward it. The tall figure of a broad man was standing there, dressed in orange and gold. He had dark, thick hair on the top of his head and decorating his face. He looked healthy and relief replaced the panic. The feeling of comfort at his few words urging you back up from where you had reached out for the couch. Memories of laughter and teasing, of time spent together coming back to you as if he had brought them into the room with him. “I had a spare moment today, is everything okay here?”

“I-I just…I needed to make sure you were okay.” The words left you in a shaky breath. His image filled the form of the shadow, pushing you toward him. He opened his arms and you moved into them, lifting up on your tip toes to press your forehead to his own and everything whirling around in your mind calmed.

“My heart, are you alright?” His breath fanned over your face and your eyes focused on his lips. Waiting for an answer to flow from them. For all the memories that had flooded back when you first looked at him, you couldn’t recall the feel of his lips on your own.

“I’ve got you, beautiful. Everything is going to be okay.”

Before the last word was uttered, you were surging up and pressing your lips to his.

Weeks go by, the days spent with your mother and the maidens assigned to look after you and ensure you had everything you needed. Prince Cala was accommodating, doting almost when he was free from the responsibilities that came with running a successful city. He was a prince, you learned. Set to inherit his royal standing of king and full control over the city once the marriage he had proposed to you in your murky past came to fruition. He was all soft, casual touches and kisses pressed to your temples. He hadn’t kissed you fully since that first day you had woken up and you could understand his hesitancy. You were still struggling with your memory, no exact recollection of your lives together.

Assurances spoke from both him and your mother that this was indeed your life, even if everything seemed so new and part of a routine you didn’t quite feel like you were a part of. You were…slightly uncomfortable in your mother’s presence, when alone. An almost fearful undertone as you watched her movements closely, feigning focused interest in the things she told you and shared with you to mask the way your eyes catalogued everything. There was a faint weight that pulled in your gut when she would touch you, her hands always gentle but it was as if… it was as if your body was waiting for the gentle to give way to something more sinister, more ill-intentioned.

You felt more at ease with the man who had filled the shadow in your mind, his presence calming and kind. You weren’t waiting for his touch to sour, though it didn’t spring forth any feelings of desire or yearning from you. A causal intimacy between you both. Slightly disjointed in the way that you had separate room when you could recall sleeping beside a warm body before your accident. In the way that he would press his forehead to yours in greeting each morning and departure each night, the warmth of his skin against yours feeling….wrong as you recalled a coolness in the memories of the practiced motion. In the way that your flowing gowns and light layers looked beautiful in every color provided to you helped to alleviate the heat of the planet but felt too…impractical when you could recall feeling different clothing against your skin, practical, durable.

But for all the things that felt slightly shifted, you also found familiarity.

The ever present heat and bright sunshine of the planet, so unlike your own world of K’ath and yet it was almost comforting in a way. The food you enjoyed at the words of your mother and fiancé to the kitchens to keep on hand. Fresh fruits, crispy vegetables, and warm bread slathered with salted butter fresh from the ovens. Plenty of soups served over rice and easy broths for you to sip from ornate china, never anything too heavy or slathered in rich sauces. Sweet treats in the form of artisan chocolate, decadent cakes with frosting covering them in intricate designs and an endless supply of fresh, strong caf.

But you took it all in stride, spending time in the gardens, memorizing the walkways that wound through them and around the cerulean ponds filled with colorful fish. Spending time in the library and reading through the history of the planet and the city. Spending time in the lush sunroom decorated with plush rugs, overstuffed seating, and a nice view of the grounds just beyond it. Spending time overlooking the beautiful sights of the city and the distant ocean from your balcony, unable to shake the feeling like you were supposed to be somewhere else.

You tried to ignore the guards hovering around you as you explored the streets of the market. You had earned the outing after your good behavior, showing restraint in the questions you had wanted to ask but didn’t want to repeat yet again the night before. Shaking those thoughts from your head, you reached up and adjusted the dainty crown atop your head. The beautiful netting sprinkled with jewels fanning the base of it cascading over your hair in quite a nice way and it would look beautiful if the piece weren’t a deadly threat. It was a little overkill, you thought. Even if you had been nothing but willing to play along to your mothers and husbands’ words despite feeling like something was wrong, missing, like this wasn’t your life. But they were all that you knew right now, the figure of your mother familiar from childhood and you heeded her words.

You were at a stall that had an array of colorful and fragrant fruits, the sweet perfume of them blending together too tempting for you to bypass without checking out. A creature of habit, your mother called you. A woman of expensive taste, teasingly aimed at you from your husband. They knew you

You paused to hold a bundle of sunset orange berries up to inspect. A small green hand with three fingers suddenly reached out for the bowl in your hand and you jumped only slightly at the sudden company you had as you perused the stalls offerings. You turned a cautious look over but a smile broke out on your face at the cute visage of a small, wonderous face peeking out from a canvas bag that seemed to be his safe space.

“Well, hello there, little one.” You lowered the bowl for the small creature to reach for a berry, the fruit stuffed into his mouth with a happy sound that had a laugh bubbling up from your chest unbidden. “He’s rather cute. Is this your child?”

You canted your attention up, at the broad man dressed in all black who was wearing the child’s bag over a shoulder. His clothing was nondescript, matching that of the priests who littered the town. Flowing cassock and wrap atop his head. His face was obscured, much like their own by black gauzy material draped from underneath it. His dark brown eyes were the only thing visible, and you smiled at him trying to come across as friendly. You didn’t want to anger anyone in town lest they had a connection to your new family.

The figure didn’t speak for a moment, seeming to take stock of you, gauging if you were a threat or not, something everyone seemed to be doing when interacting with you. A newcomer, an outsider, not one of the many tourists visiting the city for their own amusement, but someone brought in to be a part of the ruling family. Confirmation sounded through the fabric masking his face from you and you nodded to show you heard. “He is.”

“I’ve never seen any like him before, he seems like the sweetest thing.” The child let out small coos, as if knowing he was being talked about. He reached for another berry but held it out to you this time. You shook your head lightly and another laugh bubbled up even as you felt the heavy gaze of his father on you.

“Ma’am, you’ll have to pay for- Oh, Princess Cala, I’m so sorry. I was unaware you were in the markets today. Please, take whatever you wish, I will send for payment from Sir Cala at the end of the day.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright. It’s just a little snack today, nothing too crazy.” You smiled wide at him, hoping your behavior will be relayed back to your new family and they will lower their intensity. But you also genuinely appreciated this man, he treated you like a person while everyone else in the market kept a wide berth around you. Afraid of either you as a newcomer or the guards that tailed you, you hadn’t been able to work it out yet. You reached for the small pouch attached to your belt, the jingling of the bracelets on your wrists drawing the attention of the child.

You felt the tug of on them as you reached out to place a few credits for the bowl of berries on the stand, nodding your thanks as you turned to face the child again. He was gripping the bracelets tightly, his skin touching yours as he did so and a clash of emotions flooded you, causing you to gasp and your knees buckled. Before the guards could reach you, the tall man had stepped close and his arms were wrapped gently around your back, holding you to his chest to help steady you.

“I’ve got you, mesh’la. Are you alright?” His head was pitched so his voice was right beside your ear, and it sent a shiver through your body, the timbre of it so alluring. It was all you could hear though you were aware of the soft babbling of the child close to you and the harsh voices of the guards. You felt completely calm with him, like returning to your home after a long day. Comforted, safe, cared for. His touch was so familiar, the way he held you feeling like a faint memory though you had never met him in your life.

“Unhand the princess, no one is to touch her.” The guards closed in around you both, trapping you between their bodies and the stall.

“It’s alright! I just tripped is all!” You raised your voice even though it was rather hard to concentrate with the strong body pressed up against you and holding you. You felt the man loosen his hold and step away as you stood straighter. You weren’t quite sure what happened, but he had been quick to help you, even at the expense of drawing the guards’ attention. You smiled at him, something genuine. The feelings he had stirred in you were confusing but not unwelcome. You had no idea why. He was a stranger after all.

“We must return now, Princess Cala.”

When his touch retracted, the warmth that had blossomed in your chest and the quickening of your heart beating against the cage of your ribs didn’t wane.

You retrieved the bowl of berries and held a few out to the slightly dejected child, his large ears turned downward. “Here you go, little one. Make sure to share those with your papa, okay?”

Another glance roved over his face, a soft smile just for him, and you were bidding him a good day with a bow of your head. The urge to press your forehead against his strong, but you resisted, knowing that it felt too personal a thing for the stranger standing beside you. Your brow furrowed slightly, unsure of where the need to do so rose from. The comfortability and underlying feeling of complete and utter safety that the man stoked in you confusing you, he was a stranger, and yet it felt like there was a string wrapped around your heart that pulled taught and uncomfortable as you began to move away from him.

And with that you were turning and walking away from the stall, two guards leading you back to the palace and two behind you. You could feel the kind man’s brown eyes watching you as you did, daring to look over your shoulder to get one last look at him yourself.

Your breath hitched as your eyes met his even from the distance of the street and you felt the heat from his intimate touch and soft words encompass you completely. A dull pain throbbed in your temple, forcing you to turn away.

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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

taglist: @clevergirl74 @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @littlemisspascal @moonknight-s-cumdump @bookloverkat @golden-mando @beskarandblasters @feral-ferrule @bearsbeetsbeskar @76bookworm76 @anoverwhelmingdin @sarap-77 @picassopedro @sawymredfox @jessthebaker @genetics4life @mosssbawls @vivian-pascal

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scarletbellatrix · 20 days

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canon divergence & hc: post-tartaros

After being tortured by Kyoka, Erza developed PTSD. The cruelty she experienced tied into the memories from her days in the Tower of Heaven, and the childhood traumas she thought she moved on from came crashing down on her. Jellal's words touched her, but words did not mean healing.

With the guild's disbandment, everyone decided to part ways, and Erza was left to her own devices. She didn't interpret the disbandment as friendship over, but she felt alone. Everyone was going through losses, especially the people in her team. She didn't want to burden anyone with her personal issues.

The world did not stop just because of her pain, so she had to move on. She did her best to move forward, but it hadn't been easy. She had difficulties sleeping. She didn't enjoy the things that used to make her happy. She was physically and mentally exhausted. For a whole week, she did not get out of bed, even though she wasn't sleeping. She was restless. She did everything she could but nothing worked.

One time, she turned off the lights, and it perturbed her for some reason. It reminded her of the time she was tortured, her eyesight completely taken away, and there was only darkness. Eventually, she sought for a physician and asked for medication, relying on a potion that helped her sleep. But even when she slept, the nightmares haunted her for days. There were flashbacks of her time in Tartaros, and time in Tower of Heaven. The worst would be the fusion of the two. There would be a twisted image of her younger self tortured by Kyouka, or of her older self tortured and helpless in the Tower of Heaven. All the worst combinations one could think of.

She tried going out and training again, but her head was not in the right place. She had episodes where she lost track of time. She was not completely in the present. She was there, but not really there. The images of being back in Tartaros would come to her, distorting her reality. Sometimes, her soul wasn't one with her body, like she was watching herself from afar. There was a night when the potion stopped working, and she had a blackout. The next thing she knew, she was bare-footed in a forest, almost attacked by a wild creature, if it weren't for a hunter in the area who came to save her.

The incident disconcerted her, and she decided to go on a high-risk mission with a small team. She thought that she just needed her head back in the game, and everything would go back to normal, but she was wrong. She made a mistake that almost put her in danger again. She was in the middle of a mission when she blacked out again.

The experience made her realize that she wasn't okay. She had a major breakdown that eased her a bit. She worked harder to work through her fears and process everything. It hadn't been an easy journey. Because in that process, she had been too wrapped up in herself that she ended up icing people out and pushing away anyone from her former guild to reach out to her. She had changed. It wasn't a period in her life that she was proud of, and there were people she owed apologies to.

#canon divergence #a sign of strength — musings #ptsd tw #mental illness tw #finally wrote this and i think i finally figured out what type of plots i want for her #heart of the blades — headcanon

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mirroredworlds · 1 year

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It's 4am. You need sleep. (Natsu)

Fighting to urge to stick his tongue out in indignation Natsu simply sighed before lifting his gaze to look at the older male. Everyone had their own scars from past battles and the fire user was absolutely the same. Even if he often played down his own stress and PTSD to help his friends. After all, everyone viewed him as nothing more than a moron who was good at listening. Even though it was far from the truth, that didn't mean he couldn't pretend it was. For those he cared about he'd do just about anything to make them feel better.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead, Gajeel,"

His tone was mostly flat but his general sass was there. He knew he could get away with a lot with others but it was a bit harder with Gajeel. Mostly because the older male knew things that most others didn't about him and his past. Of course, everyone in the guild knew of his ties to Zeref but none of them seemed to judge him for it. After all, more than one were intimately familiar with having a demon locked inside them to some degree.

"Besides, you can't tell me that crap and then not go to sleep yourself. It wouldn't exactly be fair, now would it?"

At least he didn't say the pot calling the kettle black bit. He really didn't want to get into a fight of some kind with anyone, least of all Gajeel himself. They'd grown past that aspect of their lives right? Sure, as friends they'd likely spar every so often but it'd never be anything super serious. Unless one of them was being incredibly dumb and the other had to knock some sense into them. Never mind the fact that he was avoiding asking Gajeel what he was doing near his house in the first place.

#blacksteeldragon #In Character Natsu Dragneel #Within Fiore V.1

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dragons-bones · 3 years

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FFXIV: A Riot of Blooms

#FebHyurary Day 3: Flower

A/N: Hey now, the prompt list includes writing, and I’ve had a pretty powerful idea for this prompt for a couple days now! This story also contains references to “Resolution” from FFXIV Write 2018.

RATING: G WORD COUNT: 1356 WARNINGS: Mild hints towards PTSD; baby carbuncles being disgustingly adorable.

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Mommy?

“Yes, Amandina?”

Why do you love flowers so much? The tiny black carbunclet reached up, whole body stretched out, to gently paw at the enormous yellow dahlia woven into Synnove’s crown braid, practically glowing against the rich brown and dyed blues of her hair.

“I wouldn’t say I love them…” Synnove said absently, gently pushing morning glory seeds an ilm and a half down into the soil of the new trellis base.

Amandina plopped back down and blinked huge, dark eyes, then glanced around the yard.

The vegetable patch and kitchen herb garden were rigidly laid out in razor sharp rows smarter than any Maelstrom formation, the type of perfection possible only with a geometric genius of an arcanist as the gardener. The mint and strawberries were properly cowed for the moment in their respective boxes, and the asparagus and spinach were already peeking above the soil. It was green with growth and brown from freshly-tilled earth…

…and it was a shock of order among the riot of chaotic color that was the rest of Synnove’s personal domain.

Spring had come early to La Noscea and the yard was already blooming. Purple-red pansies and pink azaleas huddled beneath the shade of the huge old oak that ruled most of the yard; yellow daffodils and fringe-petaled tulips in white and pink and orange shoved at one another in the open spots of sunshine; bluebells and crocuses shyly peeked out from whatever stray corner they had found when they had gone to seed last year, while the rose bushes were dotted with buds and the morning glories in the older trellises against the sides of the house were twining new vines up the lattices, ready to explode into bloom at a moment’s notice. Save for the paths from the gate to the front and kitchen doors, the deck, the birdbath, and a large picnicking spot beneath the oak, every square ilm of land was covered in plant life that if not in flower now, would be come summer or autumn, so that the yard was full of color from the last frost of winter to the first.

Amandina looked back up at Synnove and yipped. Sure, Mommy.

Synnove glanced down at the black pearl carbuncle and then flicked her gaze out over the yard before she grinned ruefully. “Obsession is likely the better choice of word,” she said dryly. But she leaned back on her heels and settled to sit on the ground cross-legged.

The carbunclet peeped excitedly and hooked her paws over her mama’s thigh to haul herself onto her leg and then tumble into her lap: that pose meant a story!

Roksana poked her head down from the platform built among the oak tree’s branches to see what had caught her twin’s attention, ears pricked upright, and peeped herself, scrambling down the ladder in a blur of blue-white fur. The white pearl carbunclet dashed through the flowers, white tails waving in delight, and burst into the open spot next to the trellises to crawl into Synnove’s lap next to Amandina. The pair craned their necks to peer at their mama, and they cheeped in unison, Story story story!

Synnove laughed at them and bundled them up in her arms, raising them to kiss the patches of red fur between their ears; Amandina first, then Roksana. The pearl carbunclets purred, high and squeaky, and nuzzled against her cheeks before Synnove set them back in her lap.

The Highlander took a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh, petting her youngest girls as she stared off into the distance. “I don’t remember very much about our home in Ala Mhigo,” she said at last, voice soft, “but I remember the flowers.

“My grandmother loved flowers, and she was the only one allowed to tend to her garden; Auntie says that the groundskeeper’s job was primarily to keep the toolshed tidy and well-stocked with mulches and fertilizers, and do whatever Grandmother couldn’t because of age at her direction. I could see her most mornings from my window, with her big straw hat, puttering around the beds with a watering can in hand. There were so many colors in that garden: blues and reds and pinks and oranges and all the rest of the rainbow. And the smell… The smell was indescribable, especially in the morning during the first bloom. The morning glories covered the entire front wall of the manor, and every room—mine included—smelled of morning glories from sunup until almost noon before the scent finally dissipated.”

Synnove’s voice wavered on the last word and she swallowed heavily, reaching up to swipe at her eyes. “There was a bench beneath the old oak—”

An oak tree like ours? Roksana interrupted excitedly.

Her mama laughed, the sound just a little watery. “Bigger! It was as old as the manor, and the manor was old, very old. It cast all the front rooms of the manor in shade, I remember that, too, and it was perfect for climbing; the only ones who used the bench anymore where Grandmother and Grandfather. Even Uncle Tyr would climb with us, though he couldn’t go as high as me or Eydis. I bought this piece of land because of that oak: it’s wonderful for climbing now, but give it another decade and it will be almost as perfect as the manor oak was.”

She stared off into the distance again, lips pressed together into a thin line. Amandina and Roksana exchanged looks, nodded, and burrowed into their mama’s stomach, purring so furiously they vibrated with the sound.

As planned, their actions startled a laugh out of Synnove and she bent over cackling as she reached for them and tried to pull them away. “Girls! Girls, stop it, that’s mean! You know how much that tickles!”

The twins purred harder in response, and Synnove ended up toppling backwards, shrieking with laughter. The girls crawled up her torso to tuck themselves between the curves of her necks and shoulders, slowing their purrs to something softer and soothing, and Synnove eventually calmed, reaching up to wipe tears of laughter off her face and then rest her hands on the pearl carbunclets.

But her melancholy had vanished before it could transform into something darker, and that was what counted.

Eventually, she continued: “Other than the kitchen garden, most of the yard for the longest time was just clover; I had a flowerbed and the rose bushes, and one morning glory trellis, but that was it. And then Ala Mhigo was liberated, and I went back to what had once been our home, and.” She paused, swallowing again, and Amandina headbutted her cheek. Synnove smoothed her hand down the carbunclet’s purple-black ears and back and sighed gustily.

In a stronger voice, she said, “And I saw what had been done to Grandmother’s garden. It wasn’t until I got back here that I just…I just became so furious. It had been my grandmother’s, it had been mine, and it had been beautiful, and I was so angry it was gone. So, I went to the Botanists’ Guild and asked for a list of flowers they thought would grow well in La Noscea, and I went mad for a fortnight just planting. I couldn’t remember how Grandmother had laid out her garden, even if I had had the same flowers as her, but I knew enough that I should try to space things so when the spring blooms faded, the summer and autumn ones could fill the void.

“So that’s why I love flowers so much, my Amandina. They’re a bit of my childhood, and a bit of my grandmother, and a bit of reclaiming them both for the better.”

Amandina reached up and put her paw on Synnove’s nose, chirruping. That’s a sad story, Mommy. Her aetheric harmonic was matter of fact: observing, rather than accusatory or upset.

“Sometimes stories are sad, sparkler,” Synnove said, continuing to pet her, and petting her sister with the same motion now. Both baby carbuncles snuggled closer. “But it doesn’t mean they can’t have a little bit of hope in them, too.”

#febhyurary #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #oc: synnove greywolfe #synnove's carbuncles #dt's writing #i really enjoyed how this turned out #melancholy but hopeful

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splendidlyimperfect · 3 years

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When Natsu runs into five-year-old Sting and Rogue at the Grand Magic Games, he thinks they’re cute kids with a serious case of hero worship. But when it turns out that they’re both Dragon Slayers and they belong to the ruthless Sabertooth Guild, something doesn’t feel quite right. Natsu and Gray quickly grow protective of the two little kids, and they do their best to build a relationship with them to try to keep them safe and figure out what exactly is going on at Sabertooth.

Chapter Summary: A job gone wrong brings Gray and Natsu back to Ciralto, and they learn something new about Sting.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Natsu/Gray, Rogue/Sting Characters: Natsu, Gray, Sting, Rogue, Lucy, Erza, Yukino Tags: Canon Universe, Dragon Slayers, Parenting, Adoption, PTSD, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, basically stingue are adorable baby dragon slayers and Natsu wants to adopt them, and then he kind of does, Trans Gray, Trans Sting, Nonbinary Rogue, ADHD Natsu, ADHD Sting, Autistic Rogue

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Gray was right. Both kids were asleep in their arms by the time they got back to their inn, and they didn’t wake when Natsu and Gray transferred them to the bed. Sting immediately reached out in his sleep, grabbing Rogue’s hand and pulling them close. Natsu sent a message to Yukino as Gray pulled the blanket up to cover both the sleeping kids.

“She said to meet her at the market instead of the guild,” Natsu said quietly, frowning at his phone.

“Jiemma’s probably not happy about us visiting,” Gray said. He rubbed his face and yawned. “He did tell us to stay away.”

“Yeah, well, what’s he gonna do? Call the Magic Council?” Natsu rolled his eyes. “He can’t stop us from coming here.”

“He could stop letting them see us, though,” Gray said. “We have to be careful.”

Continue reading on AO3

Natsu sighed and sat down on the end of the bed, careful not to disturb the kids. Gray stepped closer and Natsu reached out, pulling him close and wrapping his arms around Gray’s waist.

“They need help,” Natsu said softly. “Like I did.”

Gray sighed, running his fingers through Natsu’s hair. Sting’s outburst had been eerily similar to some of Natsu’s meltdowns when he’d been younger. Gray remembered being both frustrated at Natsu’s constant tears, and jealous that he could show his feelings so freely. It had taken Gray years to be able to cry for the family he’d lost, and Natsu had been the one to show him that his grief was okay.

“We are helping,” Gray said. He crouched down in front of Natsu and ducked his head until they were making eye contact. “Sting’s lucky to have somebody like you who gets how his brain works.”

“But I can’t always be here,” Natsu said sadly. “And it’s not just him – Rogue seemed upset earlier, too.”

Gray shook his head. “No, I thought that at first, but I think they were just excited. They were rocking in my lap when we were watching the jellyfish, too. The noise seemed to bug them a bit, they kept rubbing their ears, but they weren’t upset like Sting was.”

Natsu nodded as they both lapsed into silence. Gray ran his hands up and down Natsu’s thighs comfortingly, then leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Natsu smiled, turning and catching Gray’s next kiss on the lips.

“C’mere,” he said, shifting over and tugging on Gray’s arm. The bed was barely large enough for the four of them, but Natsu managed to lie down next to Sting, who made a quiet sound in his sleep as he snuggled closer to Rogue. Gray sighed and curled up against Natsu, immediately relaxing as the tension in his shoulders started to fade.

“I think we need a nap too,” Natsu said sleepily, pulling Gray close.

“Mm.” Gray kissed Natsu’s forehead and wrapped an arm around his waist, letting himself succumb to exhaustion. “Go to sleep.”

After that, Gray and Natsu visited as often as possible. Sting was always thrilled, throwing himself into hugs and telling them both a million stories. Rogue was still the more reserved of the two, but over time they started to open up as well, eagerly telling Gray and Natsu facts they’d learned since the last visit – most of them about jellyfish.

“They can make other ones of themselves,” Rogue said proudly the next time they went to the aquarium. “If they fall apart they turn into new ones!”

“That’s gross,” Sting said, pressing his face against the glass.

“You’re gross,” Rogue replied, bouncing on the balls of their feet and sticking their tongue out at Sting. “An’ some of them have teeths.”

“Super duper gross.” Sting looked up at Gray and grinned. “D’galu! Na?”

Gray’s face lit up, just like it did every time he spoke Isvanian with the kids. “Sy’at jant,” he chided with a smile on his face. “Be nice.”

Natsu leaned in and kissed Gray’s cheek, laughing at the blush that crept up the back of his neck. “I like seeing you happy,” he said quietly, kissing Gray’s ear. Gray didn’t reply, just bumped his head against Natsu’s and squeezed his hand.

Dropping the kids off with Yukino after visits was the difficult part.

“Why you can’t stay here?” Sting would ask each time, arms wrapped tightly around Natsu’s neck. “I miss you when you go away.”

Each time Natsu would explain that his and Gray’s families were back in Magnolia, and that they’d be back again soon, but as time went on, it got harder and harder to leave. The last time they’d headed home, Sting’s disappointment and frustration had ended with him yelling at Natsu and pushing him away, refusing to hug him or wave goodbye.

“He didn’t mean it,” Gray said gently as they rode the train home. Natsu lay sideways on the bench with his head in Gray’s lap, eyes closed while Gray ran cool fingers across his forehead and through his hair.

“I know.” Natsu’s voice was muffled by Gray’s sweater. “I did the same thing when I was little.”

“I remember,” Gray said with a small smile. “You told me you hated me.”

“I was kind of an asshole.” Natsu slipped his hand under Gray’s sweater and ran his thumb across his ribs. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t mean it either,” Gray reassured him.

Natsu didn’t answer, just sighed and cuddled closer. Gray tucked a wayward strand of hair behind his ear and let a burst of cool magic trickle across Natsu’s temples.

“He’s getting worse,” Natsu said after a while. “I’m really worried about him. Both of them.”

Gray nodded as he looked out the window. Sting’s outbursts had been happening more and more often lately – usually fighting with other kids or turning to shouting and tears as soon as something didn’t go his way. Rogue, on the other hand, never yelled. Instead, they would cry and withdraw if something overwhelmed them, and it could take hours to calm them down.

“I don’t know what to do,” Natsu said softly. “Sting was talking about fighting again today. He’s obsessed with being the strongest.” He hesitated, then added, “He had bruises again, too.”

Gray’s stomach twisted with the same unsettled sensation that happened anytime he saw marks on either of the kids. The first time Sting had shown up to their visits with a bruise on his arm, he’d insisted it was from falling while playing. It wasn’t unbelievable – Gray remembered the myriad of injuries he’d had from roughhousing as a kid – but something about it didn’t feel right.

“Maybe we should say something,” he said.

“To who?” Natsu sounded miserable. “We don’t have any proof. They both tell us it was accidents, Yukino won’t talk to us, and nobody’s going to make a move against one of the most powerful guilds in Fiore. And if we try, it could make it worse for them.” He sighed. “All we can do is keep visiting, and I feel so useless.” He rubbed his face with the back of his hand. “I miss them already.”

“I know,” Gray said, tipping his head against the window and sighing. “I miss them too.”

Their next trip to visit the kids started with a job gone wrong.

“I thought the job poster said it was one monster,” Gray hissed as he jumped backward, barely dodging the venomous spittle that flew through the air. He held out both hands and shards of ice flew from his fingertips, shredding through the group of snake-like monsters that were attacking them.

“Technically it was one monster,” Natsu said. He tossed a fireball down the hill into the center of the snakes, and Gray wrinkled his nose against the smell of burning flesh. “At least, until it turned into… that.”

The writhing mass of snakes hissed in unison. Half of them were blackened and burned in piles on the ground, surrounded by prisons of ice. The remaining ones quickly slithered together, making a squelching sound as they solidified back into one creature.

“Fucking hell,” Gray muttered, firing bolts of ice at the creature in an attempt to pin it to the ground. It snarled at him, opening its mouth wide and showing off teeth that were nearly as long as his arm.

“Go for its head!” Natsu shouted, scrambling down the hill as he blasted it with bursts of flame. It turned away from Gray, bright red eyes tracking Natsu’s movements as he leaped toward it. Gray quickly narrowed his magic into a spear, exhaling and focusing on the monster’s throat before firing.

The monster screamed in rage and pain as the lance pierced its neck. The ground underneath Gray trembled and he stumbled forward. Before he could catch his balance, something heavy slammed into him and knocked him onto his back.

Gray grunted in pain as he pushed himself up on one elbow and tried to focus on what had hit him. It took him a second to realize it was the end of the snake’s tail, tipped with a set of razor-sharp barbs. He blinked slowly, then looked down at himself. Blood dripped from five deep wounds that ran directly across his chest and stomach.

“Gray!” Natsu’s panicked shout filled the air and was quickly followed by an enormous blast of fire. The tail flailed a few times as the creature shrieked in pain, then dropped to the ground as everything stopped. Natsu appeared at the top of the hill and dropped to his knees next to Gray, quickly tearing off his shirt and pressing it to the wounds on Gray’s chest. Gray hissed in pain, grabbing at Natsu’s wrists.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Natsu reassured him. His hands shook as Gray’s blood quickly soaked through the shirt and started to stain his hands. “Hold this.” He took Gray’s hand and held it against the makeshift bandage. “We have to stop the bleeding.” He yanked off his scarf and folded it carefully, then pressed it against the wound as well. Gray’s vision swam as he gritted his teeth against the pain.

“You can cauterize—” He gasped as a wave of nausea hit him, and he quickly rolled onto his side and threw up.

“What the hell?” Natsu gripped Gray’s shoulder as he vomited again, shaking at the heat and sparks of pain that were quickly flooding his body. “What’s wrong?”

“Think it’s… poison,” Gray managed. Natsu swore as he carefully pulled back the corner of the shirt. The edges of the wounds were a dark purple color, and black coloring spread out from it in strange patterns across Gray’s skin.

“Shit.” Natsu covered it back up, wrapping the ends of his scarf around Gray’s torso and tying it off. “I can’t cauterize it if it’s poisoned. We have to get you to a medic.” He pulled out his lacrima phone and quickly sent a message to Yukino – Gray’s hurt, get a doctor to the inn. Please. Then he shoved the phone back in his pocket and shifted so Gray was behind him.

“C’mon,” he said, trying his best to be gentle as he maneuvered Gray onto his back. “You’re gonna be okay.”

It took almost two hours to reach the city.

“We must be getting close,” Natsu said, trying to keep his voice steady as he shifted Gray on his back. He slid his arms under Gray’s thighs to nudge him further up as Gray made a soft sound of protest. “You still awake back there?”

“’m fine,” Gray insisted, words slurred. “I can… walk.”

“Uhuh.” Natsu rolled his eyes. “Last time I put you down you fell over.”

“Did not.”

“Wanna try again?”

Gray was quiet for a second, then let out a quiet groan of pain and pressed his forehead to the back of Natsu’s neck. Even Natsu, who ran naturally hot, could feel the feverish heat of Gray’s skin against his, and he cursed under his breath. Gray was barely holding on, arms looped loosely around Natsu’s shoulders, and his breathing was ragged and uneven.

“Hang on, Snowflake,” Natsu said softly, sighing in relief when they crested the hill and the outskirts of the city appeared on the horizon. “Look, we’re almost there.”

Gray didn’t reply, just shivered, and Natsu flared up his magic just enough to keep him warm as they walked. It took nearly twenty minutes to reach the gate, and by that time, Gray was unconscious. Luckily, the inn where they were supposed to meet Yukino and the kids wasn’t far.

“The doctor is here,” said the innkeeper when Natsu stepped through the door. She gestured to the first room in the hallway, and he ducked inside, sighing with relief when he saw Yukino, Sting, and Rogue, and an unfamiliar woman in medic’s robes.

“What happened?” the doctor asked, gesturing to one of the beds. Natsu laid Gray down gently, making an apologetic sound when Gray groaned in pain. His face was pale, and the makeshift bandage on his chest was soaked with blood.

“A monster.” Natsu rubbed his face as he slumped down on the bed next to Gray. “It was like… a snake, sort of. Or lots of snakes. It’s dead, but it hit him with its tail.”

“A nagehi,” the woman said as she pulled back the bandage to expose the wound on Gray’s chest. It was still bleeding sluggishly, and the black marks had spread across his ribs and up to his throat.

“This isn’t good,” the healer said, pressing gently at the skin around the wound. “The nagehi’s bite is usually deadly – I’m honestly surprised he’s survived this long.”

“Can you heal him?” Natsu demanded. He took one of Gray’s limp hands between his and squeezed it.

“I can try.” The woman put both hands out, closing her eyes for a moment as a greenish light emanated from them. Natsu held his breath as he stared at the magic and held Gray’s hand tightly. After a moment, the healer pulled back and shook her head sadly. “The poison has spread too far,” she said, voice gentle. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“No,” Natsu whispered, leaning closer and touching Gray’s cheek. “You have to—there has to be something. Someone.” He looked over at Yukino, who was staring sadly at him from where she sat with the two kids. “Wendy,” Natsu said, looking back at the healer. “Wendy could fix it, she just—she’s in Magnolia, can you—”

“I’ll try to contact her,” Yukino said, pulling out her lacrima phone. She whispered something to Sting and Rogue, who stayed on the bed while Yukino stepped out of the room.

“He won’t survive that long.” The healer touched Natsu’s shoulder, and he shrugged her hand off angrily. “I’m so sorry,” she said again, then quietly left the room.

Everything around Natsu slipped away as he stared at Gray. An ache spread through his chest, pulling the air from his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. He brushed a sweaty strand of hair from Gray’s face with trembling fingers, shaking his head in disbelief. Gray couldn’t die. Not here, not from this, not—

“I can help.” A small, quiet voice snapped Natsu out of his pain, and he looked up to see Sting standing on the other side of the bed. Rogue wasn’t far behind him, staring over Sting’s shoulder at the mess of blood and venom on Gray’s chest.

“Sweetheart,” Natsu said, voice breaking. “I know you wanna help, but you can’t—”

Sting ignored Natsu and stood on his tiptoes, holding the edge of the bed and carefully reaching up to touch Gray’s chest. Gray made a pained sound, shivering violently as the fever wracked his body with chills. Natsu’s eyes widened when Sting started to glow with a soft, white light.

“Don’t be mad,” Sting whispered, refusing to look at Natsu. “Please.”

Natsu stared as the scales along Sting’s temples and cheeks started to shimmer, bright and iridescent. The magic flowed down his arm, pulsing out of his fingers and sinking into the skin around the wound. The black marks immediately started to recede, pushed away by the bright, healing light.

“Holy shit,” Natsu breathed, leaning against the edge of the bed as he watched the magic flow through Gray’s entire body. When it touched his temples, the pained look on his face faded. His gasping breaths evened out as the shivering stopped.

Natsu reached out to touch Sting’s hand, but Sting quickly flinched away and backed up toward the other bed. His magic faded, leaving him red-faced as he stared at the floor.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Natsu said gently as he stared at Gray’s chest, amazed to see scar tissue covering what had been a devastating wound only moments ago. “You... saved him.” He looked back up at Sting, who was holding his hands behind his back and looking like he might cry. “What’s wrong?” Natsu asked, pushing himself off the bed and crouching down to Sting’s level.

Sting just shook his head. There was a soft touch on Natsu’s arm, and he turned to see Rogue standing next to him, giving him a serious look.

“Sting can fix it when we’re hurt,” they said. “but he’s not allowed ’cause its not strong.”

A flash of rage coursed through Natsu and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from growling. That fucking asshole. He turned back to Sting and held out his hand.

“Sting,” he said, keeping his voice as soft as possible. “You aren’t in trouble. I promise. I’m so happy you’re here, you did such a good thing.” Sting peeked up at him but didn’t look convinced. “You are so strong and so amazing. You saved Uncle Gray’s life.” The words caught in his throat and he swallowed back tears. “I’m so proud of you.”

Sting looked at Rogue, then back at Natsu, his expression somewhere between uncertain and relieved. “I’m not supposed to,” he insisted.

“That’s fuc—” Natsu cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “I don’t care what anybody else says. Uncle Gray was very, very sick and he could have—he might have died, if you hadn’t helped. And you saved him. That makes you so, so strong.” He held out both arms. “C’mere. It’s okay.”

Sting chewed his lip for a second, then took a small step forward. When Natsu’s fingers touched his arm he flinched, but he quickly darted into the embrace and pressed his face against Natsu’s shoulder. Natsu held him tightly and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“How did you do that?” Natsu asked after a second, pulling back from the embrace and pushing himself to his feet. He helped both kids up onto the bed next to Gray, who was still unconscious. His expression was peaceful, and the occasional glimmer of white magic swirled under his skin.

“I maked it good,” Sting said seriously. “The black stuff was yucky and I can fix it.” Now that he knew Natsu wasn’t angry, he seemed to relax a little. He touched Gray’s forehead carefully and closed his eyes. “It still hurts so he’s sleeping but the bad stuff is all gone.” Then he shifted closer to Gray and curled up next to him, resting his head on Gray’s shoulder and keeping his hand over the scars on his chest. Rogue copied him, cuddling up to Gray’s other side and putting their hand over Sting’s.

“You’re a healer,” Natsu said softly as he pulled a chair next to the bed and settled down in it. “Like Wendy.”

Sting’s brow furrowed in a pout. “I can fight, too,” he insisted. Natsu was about to reply when Yukino poked her head back in the door.

“I talked to Wendy,” she started to say, then trailed off when she saw Gray’s peaceful face and scarred chest. Her eyes widened, flicking between Natsu and the kids.

“Did you know?” Natsu asked. “About his magic?” Yukino shook her head slowly as she stepped toward the bed. Sting refused to look at her, just curled up tighter against Gray.

“Sting did this?” Yukino asked softly.

Natsu nodded. “He saved Gray’s life.”

A calm descended over the room as Yukino leaned down, brushing Sting’s messy curls out of his face and kissing his forehead. Natsu’s heart ached at the uncertainty on Sting’s face, and the anger from before resurfaced.

He’s not allowed.

It’s not strong.

I’m not supposed to.

Natsu let the anger simmer as he watched the kid’s joined hands rise and fall with Gray’s slow, even breaths.

You are strong, he thought. And I’m going to get you away from that asshole if it’s the last thing I do.

#fairy tail #gratsu #stingue #gray fullbuster #natsu dragneel #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #ft fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction #fanfic #let me be your haven #update #new chapter #my fic

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kalegc · 4 years

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Video Game Live-Streaming Is On The Rise

Why would you want to watch someone else play a video game?

This is the age-old question all non-gamers ask. Personally, I don’t use Twitch, although I do watch some YouTube channels about gaming. There is something calming, comfortable, relatable and oddly nostalgic about watching someone playing a game. It is almost reminiscent to watching my friends or brother playing Pro-Skater 3 on my old box-set TV, back when I was 10; and it appears many others feel this way.

Right in the feels Source: @Rachid Lotf

Video game live streaming is an industry which is experiencing immense growth and has a massive community supporting it. Twitch, the most well-known live streaming service, is one of the fastest growing platforms on the internet. In 2019 Twitch had 600 Billion minutes of streaming watched total, up from 355 Billion in 2017 (Twitch Tracker, 2020). That is insane growth, and with the COVID-19 pandemic currently happening, Twitch is thriving. The platform is currently sitting at a 44% growth from last year. Many people are finding respite watching their favourite streamers with the extra time on their hands, while many are discovering the appeal of live streams for the first time.

When it comes to game streaming, communities are formed around the streamers themselves. However, becoming a popular streamer is MUCH harder than it seems. Stephen (2020) notes, “You have to bet on yourself, again and again and again. And even then, it might not work.”. For the most part, skill level comes second to personality. Discoverability can be a seemingly impossible task and many streamers go years without ever having a single viewer (Hernandez, 2018). Of course, this can be extremely demoralizing for these people. This makes the popular streamers even more impressive and inspiring for fans. Due to the difficult nature of getting even a single viewer, fans and streamers have a deeply personal connection. Streamers are grateful for their fans for making them popular and fans feel responsible for supporting them. Big streamers usually have giveaways to show gratitude to their fans and connect with their fans via in-stream chat during streams. Without fans, there will be no streamers.

Herschel Beahm, AKA, Dr. Disrespect, is one of the most well-known streamers around. I don’t watch his streams, but I do watch his YouTube videos and stream highlights. He is extremely skillful, but I don’t watch him for that. I watch him for his unique character and personality. There are probably thousands of people better than him at what he plays, but they lack his charisma, and that’s what viewers are looking for. To some, the character of Dr. Disrespect is more than just entertainment. Fans regularly send him mail and messages saying he has helped them through PTSD, anxiety and depression (Stephen, 2020). To these people Dr. Disrespect is an inspiration and they look up to him, similar to the way basketball fans would look up to Lebron James or Kevin Durant.

Popular streamer Dr. Disrespect with an army of fans Source: @DrDisRespect - Twitter

As well as being an iconic figure, Herschel “Guy” Beahm (the man behind Dr. Disrespect) is making a substantial amount of money. With an estimated sub count of over 22,000 on Twitch, Dr. Disrespect is making around $100,000 a month from subscribers alone. This figure does not include fan donations, ad revenue, sponsored streams, YouTube income, or YouTube ad revenue. Beahm also recently signed a multi-year deal with Twitch to remain on the platform, but the figure is unknown. Going by other high-profile deals in the past though, it would be safe to assume that Beahm would be making between 10-20 million dollars. For many up-and-coming streamers, the amount of money being made by top-tier streamers ads makes being a streamer a legitimate job prospect.

Tyler Blevins, A.K.A “Ninja”, is one of the biggest names in gaming and one of the figures who made Twitch, and game-streaming in general, popular. Blevins has appeared on Ellen, live-streamed playing Fortnite with mega-star Drake, and has even featured on the front page of ESPN Magazine.

Ninja playing Fortnite with Ellen DeGeneres on Ellen Source - GamesRadar

Ninja was the first ever Esports athlete to feature on ESPN Magazine Source: Variety

In an interview with Tom Ward (2018), Blevins states that watching a professional gamer stream is no different to watching a professional athlete play sport - “Why would someone sit and watch someone throw a football around, or a basketball when they can just do it themselves? If a streamer or gamer has a great show/channel and also is a top player, it is entertaining!”. Blevins makes a solid point. Gaming is steadily becoming a more popular and respected competitive sport and is easing into mainstream popularity. For example, the 2019 League of Legends finals, thanks to live streaming, had around 100 million unique viewers (not including Chinese viewership) – which is more than the 2019 Superbowl (Pei, 2019). Like most competitive sports, there’s also large amounts of money to win. The largest prize pool for gaming currently belongs to the popular MOBA (Multiplayer Online Battle Arena) game, DOTA 2, sitting at $34 million total (Esports Earnings, 2020). To compare, the PGA tour, golfing's biggest tournament, has a prize pool of $15 million (Golf Channel, 2020). Gaming is on the rise and live streaming is a huge contributor.

A massive crowd at a League of Legends tournament. Source: Gaming4cash

Gaming has always had a tight-knit community. Whether it be a small micro-community of modders for a specific game, or a guild in World Of Warcraft, or the entire (extremely pleasant) community of Call of Duty - games have always managed to bring people together. Live streaming only seems like the natural progression of this.

References below...

ESPORTS EARNINGS, 2020, Largest Overall Prize Pools in Esports, ESPORTS EARNINGS, viewed 22 May 2020, <https://www.esportsearnings.com/tournaments>.

Golf Channel, 2020, 'The Players Championship increases purse to $15 million; winner takes home $2.7 million', Golf Channel, 25 January, viewed 21 May, <https://www.golfchannel.com/news/players-championship-increases-purse-15-million>.

Hernandez, P 2018, ‘THE TWITCH STREAMERS WHO SPEND YEARS BROADCASTING TO NO ONE’, THE VERGE, 16 July, viewed 21 May, <https://www.theverge.com/2018/7/16/17569520/twitch-streamers-zero-viewers-motivation-community>.

McCormick, R 2014, 'This is why people want to watch other people play video games', THE VERGE, 26 August, viewed 20 May, <https://www.theverge.com/2014/8/26/6068993/this-is-why-people-want-to-watch-other-people-play-video-games>.

Patterson, C 2019, 'Dr Disrespect reveals streaming income compared to CoD developer salary', Dexerto, 22 October, viewed 20 May, <https://www.dexerto.com/call-of-duty/dr-disrespect-reveals-streaming-income-compared-to-co-d-developer-salary-1170063>.

Pei, A 2019, 'This esports giant draws in more viewers than the Super Bowl, and it’s expected to get even bigger', CNBC, 14 April, viewed 20 May, <https://www.cnbc.com/2019/04/14/league-of-legends-gets-more-viewers-than-super-bowlwhats-coming-next.html>.

Stephen, B 2020, 'THE MAN BEHIND THE MUSTACHE', THE VERGE, 12 March, viewed 20 May, <https://www.theverge.com/2020/3/12/21151223/twitch-dr-disrespect-streaming-contract-personality-mixer-kobe-bryant>.

TwitchTracker, 2020, Twitch Statistics & Charts, TwitchTracker, viewed 22 May 2020, <https://twitchtracker.com/statistics>.

Ward, T 2018, 'The Biggest Gamer In The World Breaks Down Twitch For Us', Forbes, 1 May, viewed 21 May, <https://www.forbes.com/sites/tomward/2018/05/01/the-biggest-gamer-in-the-world-breaks-down-twitch-for-us/#48d9f6815bb5>.

#gaming #Twitch #streaming #ninja #fortnite #league of legends #esports #games #video games #digital communities #digitalcommunities #mda20009 #dr disrespect #drdisrespect #moba #professional gamers #gaming tournament #dota

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quietya · 5 years

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31 Days of quietYA: Books for Fans of Time Travel

If time travel is your thing, then I’ve got some good news for you - there’s a lot of it in YA. Some of these aren’t actually/strictly time travel, but you’ll get the gist.

Loop by Karen Akins

At a school where Quantum Paradox 101 is a required course and history field trips are literal, sixteen year-old time traveler Bree Bennis excels…at screwing up. After Bree botches a solo midterm to the 21st century by accidentally taking a boy hostage (a teensy snafu), she stands to lose her scholarship. But when Bree sneaks back to talk the kid into keeping his yap shut, she doesn't go back far enough. The boy, Finn, now three years older and hot as a solar flare, is convinced he's in love with Bree, or rather, a future version of her that doesn't think he's a complete pain in the arse. To make matters worse, she inadvertently transports him back to the 23rd century with her. Once home, Bree discovers that a recent rash of accidents at her school are anything but accidental. Someone is attacking time travelers. As Bree and her temporal tagalong uncover seemingly unconnected clues—a broken bracelet, a missing data file, the art heist of the millennium—that lead to the person responsible, she alone has the knowledge to piece the puzzle together. Knowledge only one other person has. Her future self. But when those closest to her become the next victims, Bree realizes the attacker is willing to do anything to stop her. In the past, present, or future.

Crewel by Gennifer Albin

Incapable. Awkward. Artless. That’s what the other girls whisper behind her back. But sixteen-year-old Adelice Lewys has a secret: She wants to fail. Gifted with the ability to weave time with matter, she’s exactly what the Guild is looking for, and in the world of Arras, being chosen to work the looms is everything a girl could want. It means privilege, eternal beauty, and being something other than a secretary. It also means the power to manipulate the very fabric of reality. But if controlling what people eat, where they live, and how many children they have is the price of having it all, Adelice isn’t interested. Not that her feelings matter, because she slipped and used her hidden talent for a moment. Now she has one hour to eat her mom’s overcooked pot roast. One hour to listen to her sister’s academy gossip and laugh at her dad’s jokes. One hour to pretend everything’s okay. And one hour to escape. Because tonight, they’ll come for her.

Future Shock by Elizabeth Briggs

Elena Martinez has street smarts, the ability for perfect recall, and a deadline: if she doesn’t find a job before she turns eighteen, she’ll be homeless. But then she gets an unexpected offer from Aether Corporation, the powerful Los Angeles tech giant. Along with four other recruits—Adam, Chris, Trent, and Zoe—Elena is being sent on a secret mission to bring back data from the future. All they have to do is get Aether the information they need, and the five of them will be set for life. It’s an offer Elena can’t refuse. But something goes wrong when the time travelers arrive in the future. And they are forced to break the only rule they were given—not to look into their own fates. Now they have twenty-four hours to get back to the present and find a way to stop a seemingly inevitable future—and a murder—from happening. But changing the timeline has deadly consequences too. Who can Elena trust as she fights to save her life?

The Wood by Chelsea Bobulski

When Winter’s dad goes missing during his nightly patrol of the wood, it falls to her to patrol the time portals and protect the travelers who slip through them. Winter can't help but think there's more to her dad's disappearance than she's being told. She soon finds a young man traveling in the wood named Henry who knows more than he should. He believes if they can work together to find his missing parents, they could discover the truth about Winter’s dad. The wood is poisoned, changing into something sinister—torturing travelers lost in it. Winter must put her trust in Henry in order to find the truth and those they’ve lost.

Cold Summer by Gwen Cole

Kale Jackson has spent years trying to control his time-traveling ability but hasn’t had much luck. One day he lives in 1945, fighting in the war as a sharpshooter and helplessly watching soldiers—friends—die. Then the next day, he’s back in the present, where WWII has bled into his modern life in the form of PTSD, straining his relationship with his father and the few friends he has left. Every day it becomes harder to hide his battle wounds, both physical and mental, from the past. When the ex-girl-next-door, Harper, moves back to town, thoughts of what could be if only he had a normal life begin to haunt him. Harper reminds him of the person he was before the PTSD, which helps anchor him to the present. With practice, maybe Kale could remain in the present permanently and never step foot on a battlefield again. Maybe he can have the normal life he craves. But then Harper finds Kale’s name in a historical article—and he’s listed as a casualty of the war. Kale knows now that he must learn to control his time-traveling ability to save himself and his chance at a life with Harper. Otherwise, he’ll be killed in a time where he doesn’t belong by a bullet that was never meant for him.

Until We Meet Again by Renee Collins

Cassandra craves drama and adventure, so the last thing she wants is to spend her summer marooned with her mother and stepfather in a snooty Massachusetts shore town. But when a dreamy stranger shows up on their private beach claiming it's his own—and that the year is 1925—she is swept into a mystery a hundred years in the making. As she searches for answers in the present, Cassandra discovers a truth that puts their growing love—and Lawrence's life—into jeopardy. Desperate to save him, Cassandra must find a way to change history…or risk losing Lawrence forever.

Tempest by Julie Cross

The year is 2009. Nineteen-year-old Jackson Meyer is a normal guy… he's in college, has a girlfriend… and he can travel back through time. But it's not like the movies — nothing changes in the present after his jumps, there's no space-time continuum issues or broken flux capacitors — it's just harmless fun. That is… until the day strangers burst in on Jackson and his girlfriend, Holly, and during a struggle with Jackson, Holly is fatally shot. In his panic, Jackson jumps back two years to 2007, but this is not like his previous time jumps. Now he's stuck in 2007 and can't get back to the future. Desperate to somehow return to 2009 to save Holly but unable to return to his rightful year, Jackson settles into 2007 and learns what he can about his abilities. But it's not long before the people who shot Holly in 2009 come looking for Jackson in the past, and these "Enemies of Time" will stop at nothing to recruit this powerful young time-traveler. Recruit… or kill him. Piecing together the clues about his father, the Enemies of Time, and himself, Jackson must decide how far he's willing to go to save Holly… and possibly the entire world.

Traveler by L.E. DeLano

Jessa has spent her life dreaming of other worlds and writing down stories more interesting than her own, until the day her favorite character, Finn, suddenly shows up and invites her out for coffee. After the requisite nervous breakdown, Jessa learns that she and Finn are Travelers, born with the ability to slide through reflections and dreams into alternate realities. But it’s not all steampunk pirates and fantasy lifestyles—Jessa is dying over and over again, in every reality, and Finn is determined that this time, he’s going to stop it…This Jessa is going to live.

A Kiss in Time by Alex Flinn

Talia fell under a spell...Jack broke the curse. I was told to beware the accursed spindle, but it was so enchanting, so hypnotic... I was looking for a little adventure the day I ditched my tour group. But finding a comatose town, with a hot-looking chick asleep in it, was so not what I had in mind. I awakened in the same place but in another time—to a stranger's soft kiss. I couldn't help kissing her. Sometimes you just have to kiss someone. I didn't know this would happen. Now I am in dire trouble because my father, the king, says I have brought ruin upon our country. I have no choice but to run away with this commoner! Now I'm stuck with a bratty princess and a trunk full of her jewels...The good news: My parents will freak! Think you have dating issues? Try locking lips with a snoozing stunner who turns out to be 316 years old. Can a kiss transcend all—even time?

Invictus by Ryan Graudin

Farway Gaius McCarthy was born outside of time. The son of a time-traveling Recorder from 2354 AD and a gladiator living in Rome in 95 AD, Far's birth defies the laws of nature. Exploring history himself is all he's ever wanted, and after failing his final time-traveling exam, Far takes a position commanding a ship with a crew of his friends as part of a black market operation to steal valuables from the past. But during a heist on the sinking Titanic, Far meets a mysterious girl who always seems to be one step ahead of him. Armed with knowledge that will bring Far's very existence into question, she will lead Far and his team on a race through time to discover a frightening truth: History is not as steady as it seems.

The Square Root of Summer by Harriet Reuter Hapgood

Gottie H. Oppenheimer is losing time. Literally. When the fabric of the universe around her seaside town begins to fray, she's hurtled through wormholes to her past: To last summer, when her grandfather Grey died. To the afternoon she fell in love with Jason, who wouldn't even hold her hand at the funeral. To the day her best friend Thomas moved away and left her behind with a scar on her hand and a black hole in her memory. Although Grey is still gone, Jason and Thomas are back, and Gottie's past, present, and future are about to collide—and someone's heart is about to be broken.

The Girl From Everywhere by Heidi Heilig

Nix has spent her entire life aboard her father’s ship, sailing across the centuries, across the world, across myth and imagination. As long as her father has a map for it, he can sail to any time, any place, real or imagined: nineteenth-century China, the land from One Thousand and One Nights, a mythic version of Africa. Along the way they have found crewmates and friends, and even a disarming thief who could come to mean much more to Nix. But the end to it all looms closer every day. Her father is obsessed with obtaining the one map, 1868 Honolulu, that could take him back to his lost love, Nix’s mother. Even though getting it—and going there—could erase Nix’s very existence. For the first time, Nix is entering unknown waters. She could find herself, find her family, find her own fantastical ability, her own epic love. Or she could disappear.

The Love That Split the World by Emily Henry

Natalie’s last summer in her small Kentucky hometown is off to a magical start…until she starts seeing the “wrong things.” At first, they’re just momentary glimpses—her front door is red instead of its usual green, there’s a pre-school where the garden store should be. But then her whole town disappears for hours, fading away into rolling hills and grazing buffalo, and Nat knows something isn’t right. That’s when she gets a visit from the kind but mysterious apparition she calls “Grandmother,” who tells her: “You have three months to save him.” The next night, under the stadium lights of the high school football field, she meets a beautiful boy named Beau, and it’s as if time just stops and nothing exists. Nothing, except Natalie and Beau.

Proof of Forever by Lexa Hillyer

Before: It was the perfect summer of first kisses, skinny-dipping, and bonfires by the lake. Joy, Tali, Luce, and Zoe knew their final summer at Camp Okahatchee would come to an end, but they swore they’d stay friends. After: Now, two years later, their bond has faded along with those memories. Then: That is, until the fateful flash of a photo booth camera transports the four of them back in time, to the summer they were fifteen—the summer everything changed. Now: The girls must recreate the past in order to return to the present. As they live through their second-chance summer, the mystery behind their lost friendship unravels, and a dark secret threatens to tear the girls apart all over again. Always: Summers end. But this one will change them forever.

Prada and Prejudice by Mandy Hubbard

Fifteen-year-old Callie buys a pair of real Prada pumps to impress the cool crowd on a school trip to London. Goodbye, Callie the clumsy geek-girl, hello popularity! But before she knows what’s hit her, Callie wobbles, trips, conks her head...and wakes up in the year 1815!

She stumbles about until she meets the kind-hearted Emily, who takes Callie in, mistaking her for a long-lost friend. Sparks soon fly between Callie and Emily’s cousin, Alex, the maddeningly handsome - though totally arrogant - Duke of Harksbury. Too bad he seems to have something sinister up his ruffled sleeve...

From face-planting off velvet piano benches and hiding behind claw-foot couches to streaking through the estate halls wearing nothing but an itchy blanket, Callie’s curiosity about Alex creates all kinds of trouble.

But the grandfather clock is ticking on her 19th Century shenanigans. Can Callie save Emily from a dire engagement, win a kiss from Alex, and prove to herself that she’s more than just a loud-mouth klutz before her time there is up?

The Edge of Forever by Melissa E. Hurst

In 2013, sixteen-year-old Alora is having blackouts. Each time she wakes up in a different place with no idea how she got there. The one thing she is certain of? Someone is following her. In 2146, seventeen-year-old Bridger is one of a small number of people born with the ability to travel to the past. While on a routine school time trip, he sees the last person he expected—his dead father. The strangest part is that, according to the Department of Temporal Affairs, his father was never assigned to be in that time. Bridger’s even more stunned when he learns that his by-the-book father was there to break the most important rule of time travel—to prevent someone’s murder. And that someone is named Alora. Determined to discover why his father wanted to help a “ghost,” Bridger illegally shifts to 2013 and, along with Alora, races to solve the mystery surrounding her past and her connection to his father before the DTA finds him. If he can stop Alora’s death without altering the timeline, maybe he can save his father too.

The Next Together by Laura James

Katherine and Matthew are destined to be born again and again, century after century. Each time, their presence changes history for the better, and each time, they fall hopelessly in love, only to be tragically separated. Spanning the Crimean War, the Siege of Carlisle and the near-future of 2019 and 2039 they find themselves sacrificing their lives to save the world. But why do they keep coming back? What else must they achieve before they can be left to live and love in peace? Maybe the next together will be different...

Return Once More by Trisha Leigh

Years have passed since refugees from a ruined earth took to space, eventually settling a new system of planets. Science has not only made the leaps necessary to allow time travel, but the process engineered a strange side effect—predicting your one true love. Sixteen-year-old Kaia Vespasian is an apprentice to the Historians—a group charged with using time travel to document the triumphs and failures of the past—and she can’t resist a peek at her long-dead soul mate in Ancient Egypt. Before she knows it, she’s broken every rule in the book, and the consequences of getting caught could destroy more than just her new romance. But when Kaia notices a fellow classmate snooping around in a time where he doesn’t belong, she suspects he has a secret of his own—and the conspiracy she uncovers could threaten the entire universe. If her experience has taught her anything, to changing history means facing the consequences. The Historians trained her to observe and record the past, but Kaia never guessed she might have to protect it— in a race across time to save her only chance at a future.

The Girl with the Red Balloon by Katherine Locke

Ever since she arrived in Germany on a school trip, Ellie Baum has felt the weight of history on her. After all, she’s the first one in her family to return since her grandfather’s miraculous escape from a death camp, and in Berlin, pieces of the past—World War II, the Cold War—are still visible decades later. One day, visiting the Berlin Wall Memorial, she sees a stray balloon floating across the park, and she wanders away from the crowd to follow it. One moment she’s reaching out to grab it—the next, she’s yanked back through time to when the wall is still standing. It is 1988, and Ellie is in East Berlin. Nobody knows how she got there, not even the members of the underground guild—the Runners and the Schöpfers—who use balloons and magic to help people escape over the wall. Now as a stranger in an oppressive regime, Ellie must hide from the police with the help of Kai, a Runner struggling with his own uneasy relationship with the powerful Balloonmakers and his growing feelings for Ellie. Together they search for the truth behind Ellie’s mysterious time travel, and when they uncover a plot to alter history with dark magic, she must risk everything—including her only way home—to stop the deadly plans.

The Spy with the Red Balloon by Katherine Locke

Siblings Ilse and Wolf hide a deep secret in their blood: with it, they can work magic. And the government just found out.Blackmailed into service during World War II, Ilse lends her magic to America’s newest weapon, the atom bomb, while Wolf goes behind enemy lines to sabotage Germany’s nuclear program. It’s a dangerous mission, but if Hitler were to create the bomb first, the results would be catastrophic. When Wolf’s plane is shot down, his entire mission is thrown into jeopardy. Wolf needs Ilse’s help to develop the magic that will keep him alive, but with a spy afoot in Ilse’s laboratory, the letters she sends to Wolf begin to look treasonous. Can Ilse prove her loyalty—and find a way to help her brother—before their time runs out?

Kissing Shakespeare by Pamela Mingle

Miranda has Shakespeare in her blood: she hopes one day to become a Shakespearean actor like her famous parents. At least, she does until her disastrous performance in her school's staging of The Taming of the Shrew. Humiliated, Miranda skips the opening-night party. All she wants to do is hide. Fellow cast member, Stephen Langford, has other plans for Miranda. When he steps out of the backstage shadows and asks if she'd like to meet Shakespeare, Miranda thinks he's a total nutcase. But before she can object, Stephen whisks her back to 16th century England—the world Stephen's really from. He wants Miranda to use her acting talents and modern-day charms on the young Will Shakespeare. Without her help, Stephen claims, the world will lost its greatest playwright. Miranda isn't convinced she's the girl for the job. Why would Shakespeare care about her? And just who is this infuriating time traveler, Stephen Langford? Reluctantly, she agrees to help, knowing that it's her only chance of getting back to the present and her "real" life. What Miranda doesn't bargain for is finding true love . . . with no acting required.

Timeless by Alexandra Monir

When tragedy strikes Michele Windsor's family, she is forced to move from Los Angeles to New York City to live with the wealthy, aristocratic grandparents she has never met. In their historic Fifth Avenue mansion, filled with a century's worth of family secrets, Michele discovers the biggest family secret of all - an ancestor's diary that, amazingly, has the power to send her back in time to 1910, the year it was written. There, at a glamorous high-society masquerade ball, Michele meets the young man with striking blue eyes who has haunted her dreams all her life. And she finds herself falling for him, and into an otherworldly romance. Soon Michele is leading a double life, struggling to balance her contemporary high school world with her escapes into the past. But when she stumbles upon a terrible discovery, she is propelled on a race through history to save the boy she loves - and to complete a quest that will determine their fate.

Now That You’re Here by Amy Nichols

In a parallel universe, the classic bad boy falls for the class science geek. One minute Danny was running from the cops, and the next, he jolted awake in an unfamiliar body - his own, but different. Somehow, he's crossed into a parallel universe. Now his friends are his enemies, his parents are long dead, and studious Eevee is not the mysterious femme fatale he once kissed back home. Then again, this Eevee - a girl who'd rather land an internship at NASA than a date to the prom--may be his only hope of getting home. Eevee tells herself she's only helping him in the name of quantum physics, but there's something undeniably fascinating about this boy from another dimension... a boy who makes her question who she is, and who she might be in another place and time.

Stolen Time by Danielle Rollins (coming February 5, 2019)

Seattle, 1913 // Dorothy is trapped. Forced into an engagement to a wealthy man just so she and her mother can live comfortably for the rest of their days, she’ll do anything to escape. Including sneaking away from her wedding and bolting into the woods to disappear. New Seattle, 2077 // Ash is on a mission. Rescue the professor—his mentor who figured out the secret to time travel—so together they can put things right in their devastated city. But searching for one man means endless jumps through time with no guarantee of success. When Dorothy collides with Ash, she sees it as her chance to start fresh—she’ll stow away in his plane and begin a new life wherever they land. Then she wakes up in a future that’s been ripped apart by earthquakes and floods; where vicious gangs rule the submerged city streets and a small group of intrepid travelers from across time are fighting against the odds to return things to normal. What Dorothy doesn’t know is that she could hold the key to unraveling the past—and her arrival may spell Ash’s ultimate destruction.

Time Between Us by Tamara Ireland Stone

Anna and Bennett were never supposed to meet: she lives in 1995 Chicago and he lives in 2012 San Francisco. But Bennett has the unique ability to travel through time and space, which brings him into Anna’s life, and with him a new world of adventure and possibility. As their relationship deepens, the two face the reality that time may knock Bennett back to where he belongs, even as a devastating crisis throws everything they believe into question. Against a ticking clock, Anna and Bennett are forced to ask themselves how far they can push the bounds of fate, what consequences they can bear in order to stay together, and whether their love can stand the test of time.

Into the Dim by Janet B. Taylor

When fragile, sixteen-year-old Hope Walton loses her mom to an earthquake overseas, her secluded world crumbles. Agreeing to spend the summer in Scotland, Hope discovers that her mother was more than a brilliant academic, but also a member of a secret society of time travelers. Trapped in the twelfth century in the age of Eleanor of Aquitaine, Hope has seventy-two hours to rescue her mother and get back to their own time. Along the way, her path collides with that of a mysterious boy who could be vital to her mission . . . or the key to Hope’s undoing.

All Our Yesterdays by Cristin Terrill

Em is locked in a bare, cold cell with no comforts. Finn is in the cell next door. The Doctor is keeping them there until they tell him what he wants to know. Trouble is, what he wants to know hasn't happened yet. Em and Finn have a shared past, but no future unless they can find a way out. The present is torture - being kept apart, overhearing each other's anguish as the Doctor relentlessly seeks answers. There's no way back from here, to what they used to be, the world they used to know. Then Em finds a note in her cell which changes everything. It's from her future self and contains some simple but very clear instructions. Em must travel back in time to avert a tragedy that's about to unfold. Worse, she has to pursue and kill the boy she loves to change the future.

Summer of Yesterday by Gaby Triana

Summer officially sucks. Thanks to a stupid seizure she had a few months earlier, Haley’s stuck going on vacation with her dad and his new family to Disney’s Fort Wilderness instead of enjoying the last session of summer camp back home with her friends. Fort Wilderness holds lots of childhood memories for her father, but surely nothing for Haley. But then a new seizure triggers something she’s never before experienced—time travel—and she ends up in River Country, the campground’s long-abandoned water park, during its heyday. The year? 1982. And there—with its amusing fashion, “oldies” music, and primitive technology—she runs into familiar faces: teenage Dad and Mom before they’d even met. Somehow, Haley must find her way back to the twenty-first century before her present-day parents anguish over her disappearance, a difficult feat now that she’s met Jason, one of the park’s summer residents and employees, who takes the strangely dressed stowaway under his wing. Seizures aside, Haley’s used to controlling her life, and she has no idea how to deal with this dilemma. How can she be falling for a boy whose future she can’t share?

Steel by Carrie Vaughn

A mysterious broken sword transports a modern teen through time to the deck of a pirate ship. Stranded in the past, and surrounded by strangers, she is forced to sign on as crew. But a pirate's life is bloody and brief, and as she learns about the dark magic that brought her there, she forms a desperate scheme to get home—one that risks everything in a duel to the death with a villainous pirate captain!

Wildwing by Emily Whitman

When Addy is swept back in time, she couldn't be happier to leave her miserable life behind. Now she's mistaken for Lady Matilda, the pampered ward of the king. If Addy can play her part, she'll have glorious gowns, jewels, and something she's always longed for the respect and admiration of others. But then she meets Will, the falconer's son with sky blue eyes, who unsettles all her plans.

From shipwrecks to castle dungeons, from betrothals to hidden conspiracies, Addy finds herself in a world where she's not the only one with a dangerous secret. When she discovers the truth, Addy must take matters into her own hands. The stakes? Her chance at true love . . . and the life she's meant to live.

#31 days of quietya #ya books #this is your mod speaking #time travel #quietya #book list

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spinneryesteryear · 5 years

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Spinner plays FFXIV Heavensward

SPOILERS AHOY

- I made sure to unlock and lvl DRG before starting HW because reasons

- I… don’t really understand why people love Foulques so much? I can only presume it’s because they find him attractive

- at first I wondered why the lancers’ guild quests emphasized courage so much, but once you realize lancer upgrades to dragoon it all makes sense: they’re training the absolute maniacs who jump headfirst at DRAGONS; of course they’re going to emphasize courage

- the literal first thing I did as a dragoon after getting my soul crystal and the jump action was to launch myself into an AOE so clearly I’m playing my job right

- the drama between Alberic and Estinien was the only reason I made it through the 2.1 - 2.3 slog, tbh

- I picked up GLD/PLD somewhere in there, too, but the GLD quests weren’t exactly riveting and the PLD quests weren’t any better. I was just biding my time for DRK

- meanwhile I had hit like lvl 62 on WHM thanks to running lots of roulettes with Adventurer in Need: Healer so I’d switch to that while wandering through a lot of the HW regions so the mobs wouldn’t attack me. I did the HW story on DRG but ran dungeons as WHM the first time bc it’s my comfort role.

- I’m… still not sure exactly how to do the mechanics on the Steps of Faith. Whoops. Fortunately, all but once I was WHM when I got it in roulette and I could just heal/spam Holy. The exception was on DRG and I just kinda… derped around killing what adds I could.

- those cutscenes at the end of 2.5, though. Dude. Duuuuuuude.

- it did give us Pipin Tarupin, however, and he is Best Lala.

- So, like… what exactly did Ysayle expect would happen when she broke Ishguard’s magic wards and opened it to assault by hordes of dragons??She seems genuinely regretful of the innocent lives lost when spoken to in the MSQ later in HW proper, but when she actually did the deed she was channeling ‘deranged witch’ for all it was worth and talking about how the sons should pay for the sins of their fathers. Did this incident give her a rude awakening about the Dravanian desire for vengeance?? Idk, maybe further quests will explain this.

—– me: *just arrives in Ishgard*

—– me: *taking the grand tour of the city*

—– me: *notices mob near cathedral, inquires about it, learns about recent violent death of heretic*

—– me: *finds heretic corpse*

—– me: *derails grand tour of Ishgard by slaughtering my way through the streets and through various chapels, laughing maniacally as I enjoy the greater reach of my brand-new greatsword and spam Unleash*

—– me, standing amid the broken corpses of a few dozen temple knights: Count Fortemps is probably gonna regret letting me into this city.

- that one dude in Camp Cloudtop who’s entirely too obsessed with the menu deserves to be booted off his lookout platform. I’ll even rescue him via flying mount before he splatters on the ground (however far down the ground happens to be, idk), but I really want to kick him off at least once. He gave me far too many fetch quests and my inner Fray is disgruntled, to say the least.

- me, just trying to make my way across the map: WILL EVERYTHING IN COERTHAS STOP CHASING ME???

- other people think the gaelicats are too cute to kill them. I, however, just want to kill them all the more. I’d be perfectly content to leave the mobs alone and continue on my merry way, but, nooooooo, they have to attack me. So I respond in savage kind.

- me, doing sidequest chains and getting mildly attached to extremely minor characters: So, I kinda ship Ayleth and Saintrelmaux now…

- ever since I unlocked it, I get Dusk Vigil all the time in lvling roulette so I’m now an expert on ice age megafauna, undead knights, and murderous griffins of the non-Sloppeh type

- Ravana is my fave HW primal, hands down, and his theme is definitely among my fave primal music. I would say it’s my absolute fave (I have listened to it on repeat for hours at a time, but I’ve done that with other music, so it’s not conclusive evidence) but it has stiff competition in the form of the Ultima theme, Leviathan’s theme, and the Knights of the Round theme.

- going on a life-changing field trip with Alphinaud, Estinien, and Ysayle was amazing. All we needed was Zuko.

- far too many side quests in Tailfeather. Far too many. And that one quest chain ended up with the poor dude’s pet baby chocobo as chicken tenders? If I didn’t hate chickens so much IRL that would have been super painful.

- the moogle quests required to progress the MSQ weren’t that bad. The sheer amount of moogle sidequests needed to unlock flying for that zone and their beast tribe quests, however…. well, I’m completely on board now with any plans Sidurgu might have for utter moogle genocide.

- lol, the moogles were about to give us more chores to do but Estinien’s sheer murderous rage panicked their chieftain into sending us on our way. I love him. (Estinien, that is. Not the moogles. I love to hate them.)

- Estinien is just… I love him so much. It’s more than his armor. It’s more than his jumps. It’s more than his sass and swearing. No stereotypical elf qualities to be found here, folks. Honestly, he could give some elves from The Silmarillion a run for their money, with even his own equivalent of Angband PTSD post-Nidhogg. I also immensely love that he’s a character on a power level similar to the WoL. (I don’t actually enjoy the main character being the most powerful person in the world, without equal. I like someone else being better in at least some ways and that being okay.) Heck, when possessed by Nidhogg he’s the final boss of the expansion + patches. And he lives. (Which is in itself a pretty powerful moment and Alphinaud and the WoL’s desire to save him lifts the whole plot point/theme into something more sublime. It would have been easy to kill him regretfully, both from a Watsonian and a Doylist perspective. The devs had no problems throwing painful deaths at us in this expansion. But we took the harder route. And it was worth it.)

- low-key painful Heavensward moments (bc heavens know there’s enough high-key painful moments): Alberic is extremely worried about his adopted son, whom he last saw nearly possessed by a dragon’s millennium’s worth of hate and rage, and who then vanished in an explosion, but he can’t do anything about it so instead he helps another retired dragoon worry about his own missing daughter

- ngl there was some red herring foreshadowing that the primal Archbishop Thordan planned to summon was actually Halone, the Fury, Goddess of Justice and Patroness of Ishgard. Which would have been badass. But I’m pretty sure Square Enix is going the Dragon Age route of never confirming/denying the presence of the Maker with their Twelve, Halone included, so I deemed it unlikely even as I secretly hoped. A lot of players probably missed these fake hints and would wonder what I’m even talking about.

- I couldn’t even get mad about all the bad things that happened during the Vault because the characters were juggling Idiot Balls. (1) Aymeric thought his father, who has been consorting with Ascians and plans to summon a primal, could be reasoned with. (2) Aymeric went alone to go reason with him and was correspondingly captured and tortured. (3) We fought three of the twelve Heaven’s Ward in the Vault itself and NO ONE APPARENTLY QUESTIONED WHERE THE OTHER NINE WERE. Plus, said three have clearly already been tempered and are feeding off primal energy for their second forms, even if the mechanics are unknown. Those without the Echo should have promptly skedaddled after rescuing Aymeric. (4) After a dungeon full of ambush mobs, no one thought to secure the little airship landing behind the Vault before arguing with Archbishop Thordan. In Ishgard, city of verticality with its gravity-defying dragoons, personal airplanes, and millennium-long war against flying dragons. Everyone involved should have thought to check the nearby roofs for hostiles. Am I seriously the only person who has ever thought tactically about this situation??? (5) The WoL and Haurchefant rush forward to delay the Archbishop, again without considering the whereabouts of the rest of his presumably also tempered bodyguards or whether any hostiles remain in the building behind us. And so events happened as they did.

- Regula van Hydrus has a cool name and a cool silhouette with that helmet. Better than Varis, anyway.

- the Vundu are probably my fave HW beast tribe. The moogles are the crafting tribe so Imma do them anyway (and have fun tricking them into doing work) but I’m actually looking forward to the Vundu. I’m just benevolently apathetic towards the Gnath.

- I just, like… did not care about Azys Lla in the slightest. It was more Allagan BS and I hated the map. (I still don’t have it fully explored??? What am I doing??) The ‘terms and conditions’ bit with the node was amusing, but… the entire place got old almost immediately. Finding Tiamat and talking to her with Midgardsormr was the only high point.

- why isn’t there an option to have Hrasevelgr come and talk to Tiamat to persuade her to abandon her self-chosen imprisonment??? Or to have Estinien later come and talk to her to possibly give her Nidhogg’s perspective? Bc I think Nidhogg would have some insight into her situation, definitely. She summoned elder primal Bahamut out of grief at his loss, while Nidhogg launched a millennium-long war out of grief at Ratatoskr’s loss, and now they’ve both abandoned their vengeance.

- ARF TILL YOU BARF

- idk, man, the Aetherochemical Research Facility is such a weird conglomerate of things for a dugneon. Firstly, you got Allagan tech and machines. Then you got mutant creatures the Allagans made (bc, if it was mad science, then the Allagans were all over it). Then you got Ascians, evil ghosty dudes who laugh evilly and throw standard Evil Ascian Attacks at you before doing the fusion dance from Dragonball Z and becoming a Giant Evil Ascian. Igeyhorm has a feminine voice but is she(?) actually female or is she just presumably possessing a female body? Do Ascians have gender or do they even care about such things? (I am very much Not Thinking about Solus/Emet-Selch reproducing here.)

- Archbishop Thordan reveals the millennium-old, perfectly preserved corpse of Haldrath, the original Thordan’s dragoon son, with NIDHOGG’S OTHER EYE FUSED INTO THE CORPSE’S CHEST, and, like, no one really comments on it in- or out-of-universe???? What happened??? Haldrath gave up the throne, apparently because he wasn’t 100% on board with his dad’s treachery against Ratatoskr and consequent decision to kill all dragons to maintain power. Dragoons were apparently already a thing at this point (HC: to combat the voidsent infesting Abalathia’s Spine and the mountains between Coerthas and Gridania, e.g. Witches’ Drop), so what happened to Haldrath? Is this explained somewhere and I missed it??? Did Nidhogg hijack his mind? Estinien had Nidhogg’s eyes (both of them, incidentally, which Haldrath didn’t have to deal with) fused to his arm & shoulder but Haldrath had an eye fused to his chest. To his HEART. What happened.

- And then Archbishop Thordan somehow turns Haldrath’s corpse + armor + Nidhogg’s eye into a sword, the primal version of presumably Ascalon, King Thordan’s sword, somehow designing it to eat primal/Ascian aether. And then he kills Lahabrea, which, no great loss there. But it leaves my questions unanswered.

- Thordan + Knights of the Round is such a cool trial, I love it to death and not because it’s easy. It could be as hard as Nidhogg Normal and I’d still love it. I wish I had a static with whom I could do Thordan Ex and other more complicated content.

- finishing that fight and the cutscenes after, however… man, I didn’t know how to feel. I was screaming internally and torn in at least three different directions. Couldn’t get through the patch content fast enough to fight Nidhogg.

- had to fight Raubahn as DRG to represent my decimated Knights Dragoon brethren and my missing possessed dragoon brother and restore their honor. I’m also 100% convinced Raubahn learned of Ifrit’s nail trick and decided, “I can totally do that with Tizona.”

- has Aymeric ever done a dragoon jump? No? Then he’s not a real Azure Dragoon even if he has a nice color scheme and has ridden a dragon. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if he can do a dragoon jump (he’s survived years as Estinien’s friend somehow, and I can’t help but imagine he’s dragged Estinien off more than one rooftop), but until he does it I’m not budging on this.

- Aymeric getting stabbed by a rando with a pocketknife and nearly dying was (1) surprisingly realistic and (2) made him look wimpy next to all the punishment so many of the other characters take without dying. Sorry, man. It had to be said. I love you, Aymeric, but still.

- standing there on the Final Steps of Faith, on the broken bridge to the Gate of Judgment, staring down Nidhogg while that beautiful music plays (TELL ME WHY BREAK TRUST, WHY TURN THE PAST TO DUST) and waiting for the queue to pop… that was a powerful emotion unlike any other. Stormblood couldn’t match it.

- Nidhogg is such a fun fight because it’s still hard and I hate that I don’t get it in trial roulette more often. (Trial roulette is my favorite, actually. I love almost all trials - with the notable exception of the Chrysalis bc everyone runs around like chickens with their heads cut off on it and rages in chat, and with the possible exception of non-Final Steps of Faith.) Akh Morn is still a killer, I sometimes just want to watch bodies hit the floor, and Final Chorus is such a badass moment even as we’re all dodging for our puny lives. We’re fighting Bahamut’s brother.

- Estinien takes advantage of Nidhogg’s temporary aether depletion to regain enough control over his body to try to kill himself before being used to wreak any more havoc. Estinien survived weeks, possibly months of possession via ancient angry dragon, and having two giant dragon eyeballs embedded in his body and feeding him enormous amounts of foreign aether. Estinien survived his body being aetherically remade into the shape of an enormous dragon and then into a giant dragon-man hybrid. Estinien survived the Warrior of Light. IMHO he doesn’t get enough credit for this.

- do u ever wonder about Hraesvelgr and Estinien later meeting and Hraesvelgr identifying the spirit of his brother lingering within Estinien? Bc I think a lot of us have headcanon’d that Estinien is not as free of Nidhogg as one might think, what with his red fiery aura in SB and all. On the other hand… some of us further theorize that Estinien can’t be tempered now, so he could help us fight primals. It’d be awesome.

#Spinner plays FFXIV

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splendidlyimperfect · 4 years

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Sting and Rogue barely escape Sabertooth with their lives, and Sting turns to the only place he can think of to help - Fairy Tail. While they try to sort out their feelings and recover from the abuse Jiemma inflicted on them, Sting and Rogue must help the other guilds protect Fiore from their biggest threat yet - dragons.

Chapter Summary: The gate is destroyed, but the war isn't quite over yet.

Chapters (10/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine Characters: Rogue Cheney, Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Erza Scarlet, Lucy Heartfilia, Wendy Marvell, Porlyusica (Fairy Tail), Makarov Dreyar, Laxus Dreyar, Freed Justine, Future Rogue Cheney, Jiemma (Fairy Tail), Gajeel Redfox Additional Tags: Dai Matou Enbu | Grand Magic Games Arc, Abuse, Physical Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Serious Injuries, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Platonic Cuddling, Sign Language, Magic Fusion, Unison Raids, Grief/Mourning, Dissociation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Friendship, Tumblr: FTLGBTales Series: Part 3 of what we choose to become

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Natsu was numb. He knew he was fighting – fists connecting, icy fire burning through him – but he couldn’t feel it. Lyon stumbled along behind him, Gray in his arms, and Natsu forced himself to keep his gaze forward. The angry haze of despair from before had been tempered by Sting’s touch, and now all he felt was a deep, heavy sense of loss.

He shuddered, touching his chest as part of his power flowed up to Sting. Gray’s magic was in there, too – Natsu could feel it, wrapped around his gently like the embrace they’d shared before he’d—

Natsu exhaled sharply, shaking his head and taking another step forward. They had to make it to the gate. That was all that mattered now. He had to help, had to fight so that nobody else he loved would…

Natsu shook his head and moved forward.

“Look!” Lyon’s voice was hoarse as he looked up, and Natsu slowly followed his gaze. A blinding flash of light exploded from the dragon’s back, and a second later it roared, a pained sound that tore through the city as it quickly changed course. “It’s working,” Lyon breathed.

“Hurry,” was all Natsu could manage as he moved quicker, picking his way through the rubble as they ducked into an alley. The square was close, and there was the gate, dark and deadly as it loomed over the city. “We’re almost there.”

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A shadow filled the air, the body of the dragon blocking out the light of the blood moon as it careened closer and closer to the ground. Natsu could see people running – Lucy and Wendy were guiding them all away from the gate toward where Natsu and Lyon were standing.

The dragon hit the ground with a fantastic sound that ripped through the square, bursting any windows left intact with the intensity of the blast. Natsu watched impassively as the colossal body skidded across the ground, slamming into the left pillar of the gate and instantly turning it to rubble. Giant chunks of stone crashed around its prone body, tearing up the cobblestone and leaving craters in their wake.

The locking mechanisms on the door began to crumble as the entire door splintered to pieces, bursting out in an explosion that shook the ground around them. Lyon stumbled and Natsu quickly turned to him, grabbing his arm and guiding him over to where Lucy and Wendy were crouched behind a chunk of debris.

“Did it work?” Lucy asked, voice trembling. She looked up at Natsu, and then her eyes widened as her gaze moved to Gray’s still body. Natsu ignored her pained gasp as he stood again, staring at the ruined gate and the dragon’s still body.

“It worked,” he said quietly as they both started to shimmer, everything fading as the edges of the dragon slowly became translucent.

The tiny flicker of relief in Natsu’s chest lasted until he saw a human form next to the dragon’s body, struggling to stand. The man pushed himself to his feet, long white hair tangled and full of dirt. His clothing was shredded, and his arm hung and an unnatural angle by his side.

“You,” Natsu growled as the sorrow in his chest blazed into a desperate anger. Future Rogue looked up at him, expression dazed, and Natsu’s lip curled back in a snarl as he stared down the man that had killed Gray.

Natsu took a step forward, desperate to incinerate the man before he disappeared, but someone beat him to it.

“You bastard!” It was Sting, stumbling toward Future Rogue with something held tightly against his chest. He set it down gently, then rushed forward, slamming a fist encased in holy light into Future Rogue’s face. “You fucking bastard,” Sting sobbed as Future Rogue’s head snapped back from the blow.

Natsu stared, eyes widening as his gaze moved back to the unmoving figure on the ground. No.

Another blow slammed into Future Rogue’s stomach, throwing him backward. Sting lurched forward, ignoring the blood pouring from a deep cut on his forehead, and flung himself on top of Future Rogue, tears streaming down his cheeks as he hit him again and again.

“Sting.” Natsu could barely push the word out past the tight ache in his chest – there was no more room for heartbreak, no space for any more loss inside of him. He barely registered Wendy darting across the courtyard to the figure he knew was Rogue, or the way the rest of the gate and the dragons had slowly faded away into nothing. All he could see was Sting, and the furious heartache that tore his expression apart as he slammed Future Rogue against the ground again.

“Why?” Sting gasped. “I…”

He trailed off as Future Rogue’s edges started to blur as well, and as Natsu moved closer, he could see an expression of shocked confusion on Future Rogue’s face. “Impossible,” Future Rogue murmured. “But that means…”

His gaze drifted over to Wendy and Rogue.

“You killed him.” Sting’s words were barely understandable through his tears, and Natsu’s heart cracked again, another tiny piece of him succumbing to grief. Sting swung a final, feeble fist at Future Rogue, then collapsed forward onto his hands.

Natsu watched, wide-eyed, as Future Rogue slowly reached up and touched Sting’s cheek with a fading hand. The murderous expression on his face was gone, replaced by something full of pain and regret. Natsu expected Sting to push him away or hit him again, but instead Sting shuddered and pressed his face into Future Rogue’s palm.

Slowly, Future Rogue’s hand moved across Sting’s cheek, brushing his hair back as he gazed intently into Sting’s eyes. Sting let out another loud sob, then suddenly leaned forward, pulling Future Rogue into a tight embrace. As Future Rogue’s body slowly dissolved into tiny sparks of light, he whispered something Natsu didn’t catch into Sting’s ear.

Then the light was gone, and Future Rogue with it.

Natsu stood frozen to the ground, torn between comforting Sting and giving him space for his anger. Everything was deathly silent, as if the entire city was holding its breath. Sting didn’t look up at Natsu, instead dragging himself to his feet and staggering toward where Wendy was kneeling next to Rogue.

“Can you…”

Wendy shook her head, touching Sting’s arm gently as tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry,” Natsu heard her say as he moved closer. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Natsu’s stomach churned as he took in the state of Rogue’s body. The right side of his head had taken a heavy blow – the shape of it didn’t look quite right and the ground around his ear was thick with blood. His body was battered, and a shard of something jagged protruded from his stomach.

Sting collapsed, burying his face in Rogue’s tunic. “You can’t leave me,” he begged, face pressed against the bloody, tattered fabric. “Things were just starting to go right.” He grasped Rogue’s face in both hands, placing a desperate kiss to his forehead and tracing the shape of his cheeks with bloody fingers. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Sting.” Natsu’s voice was barely a whisper as he slid down to the ground next to Sting, wrapping an arm tightly around his shoulders. “Come here.” Sting struggled against him briefly, but his grief allowed Natsu to overpower him and pull him close. Sting buried his face in Natsu’s chest and let out a loud, heart-wrenching wail.

“Why?” he sobbed, grasping at the fabric of Natsu’s shirt. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Natsu managed, and then he was crying again, too full of heartache to hold it all in. “I’m so sorry,” he said as he pressed his face into Sting’s hair.

“I love him.” Sting’s voice broke and Natsu’s heart cracked again, threatening to shatter.

“I know,” Natsu murmured. “I know you do.” He choked on a sob, pulling Sting as close as possible. “I love Gray, too.”

“Fuck,” Sting whispered, trembling as he reached out and touched the back of Rogue’s still hand again. “We… it doesn’t feel like we won.”

Natsu shook his head, gripping Sting harder, as if he would dissolve into sparks of light too if Natsu didn’t hold him tight enough. “We lost too much,” he said, the words muffled by Sting’s hair. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I might be able to help.”

Natsu slowly relaxed his grip on Sting, looking up to see Ultear making her way over to them. He immediately growled, baring his teeth at her as she approached.

“Fuck off,” he said, keeping his arm around Sting. “You wanted this to happen.”

“I never wanted this,” Ultear said gently, kneeling down next to Rogue’s body. “I just wanted to fix things.” Natsu rumbled protectively as Ultear reached out and touched Rogue’s chest, and Sting looked up at her, lip curled in a fierce snarl. “Please, let me help,” Ultear begged. “I might be able to save him.”

Sting froze at Ultear’s words, staring down at Rogue, then slowly shook his head.

“You can’t fix this,” he said, voice hoarse. “He’s… gone.” Sting’s voice broke on the last word and Natsu squeezed him tightly.

“But you were connected,” Ultear argued. “The spell. I might be able to… turn his timeline back, through that magic.” Natsu stared at her in disbelief. “I can’t fix it – not entirely. But I might be able to… negate some of the damage.”

Sting stared at her, trying not to let hope take over the despair that filled his chest. “Negate?”

“It has to go somewhere else,” Ultear said. “It wouldn’t heal him completely, but it could save him.”

“But someone else would have to die.”

Ultear didn’t say anything, just stared at the ground next to Rogue’s body.

“I’ll do it.” Natsu’s voice was so quiet that Sting barely heard him. “If you can save him, I’ll do it.”

“But…” Sting looked desperately between Natsu and Rogue. “No, that wouldn’t—”

“You deserve to be together,” Natsu said, squeezing Sting’s shoulder and then letting go. “You’re safe now, and you should be happy.”

“But you—”

“I can’t be,” Natsu whispered, voice breaking as he looked back toward the rubble. Sting could see Lyon there, with Gray’s body still cradled in his arms. “I don’t… I can’t live in a world without Gray. But I could give you a world with Rogue in it.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Sting argued, trying to breathe through the desperate tangle of emotions in his chest.

“He might not have to,” Ultear interrupted, frowning as she ran her hands above Rogue’s body. The area where the rune had been lit up with a dull echo of his shadow magic. “I could share it.” Then she shuddered, drawing her hands back. “There’s so much. It might kill you both.”

Sting hung his head, grasping at Rogue’s arms.

“I was connected, too.” Gajeel’s voice came from behind them, rough and gravelly as he knelt down next to Sting. “Splitting the damage three ways would help, right?”

Sting looked at Gajeel, eyes wide. “You would… do that?”

“He’s family,” Gajeel replied gruffly, looking up at Ultear. “So, would it work?”

Ultear hesitated for a moment before responding. “It should. I can’t see why it wou—”

“Four is better than three.” Laxus appeared next to Natsu, reaching out and resting his fingertips lightly on Rogue’s shoulder.

“And five is better than four,” Wendy added from where she was already settled next to them. Cobra, who had been standing off to the side, sighed and stepped forward as well, not saying anything, but crouching down next to Wendy.

Sting’s eyes filled with tears of a different kind as he looked up at the other dragon slayers around him. Their faces were all set in firm lines of determination that made Sting’s chest swell with an unfamiliar feeling.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, turning to look at Natsu. “What about Gray?”

Natsu tensed. “What do you—”

“He was connected too. His magic, I could feel it.”

“He was?” Natsu looked down at his hands, summoning a tiny bit of fire magic. It was still tinged with blue. “You mean…” He looked up at Ultear.

“It’s possible,” she said hesitantly. “But it would mean splitting the healing between them. It might not be enough.”

“We have to try,” Sting insisted. Natsu looked like he might argue for a second, then nodded slowly, pushing himself up and stumbling back over to Lyon. A few seconds later he returned with Gray cradled against his chest and laid him down gently on the ground next to Rogue. The sight of them there together, still and pale, brought a fresh wave of tears to Stings’ eyes,

“We have to hurry,” Ultear said gently. “We don’t have much time.”

Sting let out a shaky breath, grabbing Natsu’s hand and squeezing it tightly as everyone reached out and rested a hand on Rogue and Gray. A tense silence filled the air as Ultear stood, raising her hands above them and letting her magic flow downward. It twisted around the dragon slayers, running through them and over their hands, then coalescing between Rogue and Gray.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

Everyone nodded and she exhaled, closing her eyes and pushing.

It hurt. Not as badly as the first spell, but painful nonetheless, like every nerve in Sting’s body was on fire. Natsu’s hand was clutching his so tightly he could barely feel his fingers, and he stared at the magic that ran from Gray and Rogue’s bodies and wound around his arms. It pushed and pulled, stealing his breaths and his pulse and replacing it with sharp aches and a stuttered heartbeat.

The pain crescendoed suddenly, burning Sting from the inside out. He gritted his teeth and bit back a scream, then slumped forward as the pain ended as quickly as it had begun. Exhaustion flooded through his body, along with a bone-deep ache that blurred his vision at the edges.

“Did it… work?” he gasped, reaching out and touching Rogue’s forehead with a shaking hand. Ultear dropped back down to her knees, reaching out and running her fingers over Gray and Rogue’s throats to feel for a pulse. There was a terrifying moment of silence, but as Sting’s vision slowly started to fade, Ultear breathed a sigh of relief.

“They’re alive.”

#fairy tail #ftlgbtales #ftlgbtfics #stingue #gratsu #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #gray fullbuster #natsu dragneel #angst #update #new chapter #my fic

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