#what if your friends are actually government spies trying to see if you hate the CIA
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Burn The Witch 15 - Liar Liar [Bucky Barnes x Reader]
A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.
Summary: Dishonesty requires practice.
Series Masterlist
Every spy knew things could go downhill on a mission. Considering how your last mission had ended with your ex, you weren’t exactly unfamiliar with the idea of your cover being blown but—
None of the targets were as dangerous as this one.
For a moment, you thought about pushing that button on your wristwatch and calling your whole team here because there was no way you could take down the legendary Winter Soldier in a fight, but through the haze of panic, a voice in your head told you not to.
It was just a mission.
As long as you kept your calm, you could fix this.
“Bucky,” you heard yourself say, “I can explain.”
He stared at you and the gun in his hand, then raised his brows.
“Okay,” he said, “Yeah, please explain why you have a gun.”
God damn it.
Okay, you had to think. Your cover was the naïve sweet civilian girl so any sentence you formed had to fit the description. The spy in you was already trying to come up with something, you had been taught to lie without even blinking but somehow it felt almost—
Wrong.
You tried to pull yourself together, shaking your head.
“I—it’s—“ you took a deep breath, “Yeah I have a gun.”
“I can see that,” he said drily, “Why?”
Good question.
Why would the small town sweetheart have a gun?
The cover story didn’t have anything like that, so you had to come up with a believable lie based on—
Oh. Bingo.
“I was going to tell you,” you said. “I’ve actually—I’ve had it for weeks.”
“For weeks?” he repeated, “Why?”
You ran a hand over your eyes, then crossed your arms and shrugged.
“I’m going to need more than that, Y/N.”
You gritted your teeth and raised your glances to look up at him. “After I got mugged,” you started, “I told one of my friends back home about what happened and she’s—she came up with this idea that I should maybe buy a gun because I—I don’t know. I don’t know why I bought it, I just bought it.”
“You bought a gun because your friend told you to?”
You tilted your head, “No Bucky, I bought a gun because I got mugged and got shot within the first month of moving here.”
His gaze on you was fixed, as if he was trying to see whether you were lying or not but now that panic wasn’t taking over you, you could think straight.
Bucky was a legend among the espionage world and he was unstoppable and you probably didn’t stand a chance against him yes, but you had one advantage.
Bucky was a soldier, not a spy.
Spies were different. Bucky had the physical training to go after a target, but he never, ever had to manipulate them emotionally. You were one step ahead on that and if there was anything that could get you out of this mess, that was it.
“Listen I know that you’re concerned, but you have nothing to worry about,” you waved a dismissive hand, “The guy at the shop was very helpful, he even gave me his number—”
His head shot up, “What?”
“Yeah in case I needed anything with the gun. Or if I had any questions.”
A shadow crossed his eyes and he scoffed, shaking his head.
“Did he now?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, “And besides, I watched a bunch of tutorials so I think I got it. I’m a very quick learner.”
“Tutorials?”
“Yeah, videos.”
He blinked a couple of times, and looked down at the gun before looking up at you.
“You watched videos.”
“Mm hm. One of the guys even had a deer head mounted on the wall behind him, it’s very clear he knows what he’s talking about.”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered to himself and you had to remind yourself not to smile.
“And I know how to take the safety off,” you added, “After that point it’s basically point and pull the trigger, that’s what the video said.”
“I don’t even know where to begin— sweetheart,” he turned to you, “Forget what the video said, I can teach you if you want, but for what it’s worth, I think it’s a terrible idea.”
Hook, line and sinker.
“I hate guns,” you insisted, “It’s just that—Stacey said it’s a big city and after I got shot… I don’t know. I know I should’ve told you, I just didn’t want you to think I’m some kind of a paranoid person.”
He heaved a sigh and reached out to tug you by the hand so that he could pull you closer.
“I don’t think you’re paranoid,” he said. “I just think that you could hurt yourself or someone if you don’t have any training.”
“The guy made it sound pretty easy.”
“Yeah, I don’t think selling it was the only thing he wanted.”
You rolled your eyes at him, “Now who’s being paranoid?”
“I’m just being observant.”
“Jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” he said and you scrunched up your nose
“Right,” you said, “Of course you’re not.”
“So is there anything I should know about?” he changed the subject, “Anything at all? I won’t judge, I swear.”
You pressed your lips together as you looked up at him. What could you say to that?
I’ve been manipulating you all along.
I’m working for the same government that is looking for you to slip and make a mistake.
When this is over, I’m probably going to hate myself much more than you hate me.
Yeah. There was absolutely nothing you could say.
“Nothing I can think of right now,” you shrugged your shoulders, “So, can we go now?”
***
You could barely remember the last time you had been to a funfair. It didn’t even matter that you already knew where you were going, you were still quite excited despite the earlier panic you had gone through. Thankfully, Bucky seemed to have bought into your story but it didn’t mean you weren’t taking mental notes about what to do by the time the date was over.
Or when you were out of his sight, whichever.
“Thank you!” you said what it felt for the hundredth time as you put a piece of cotton candy into your mouth, enjoying the sweet taste melting in your mouth and Bucky smiled at you fondly.
“No problem darling.”
“No seriously, I haven’t been to a funfair in…I don’t know, forever!” you said, “Wait, so it was a thing back then?”
“Hm?”
“Bringing your date to a funfair?”
He nodded, walking beside you, “Yeah. There wasn’t much to do and you know, lots of people.”
“So no gossip?”
“Lots of gossip,” he corrected you, “But at least—“
“No one’s virtue got damaged.”
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Nope,” you grinned at him and gasped when something caught your eye, making him turn his head.
“What?”
“Oh my God!” you pointed at the huge neon sign and he followed your gaze, then scoffed a laughter.
“Seriously?”
“I want to try it.”
“Shoot The Ducks.” He read out loud, “You know what, let’s see how good you are if you watched that many videos.”
“I’m going to get that teddy bear,” you pointed at the biggest teddy bear sitting on the top shelf while he looked like he was fighting a laugh.
“Are you sure you can carry that?”
“You’re going to carry it for me,” you said as you handed him the cotton candy, your nose in the air and tugged him by the wrist to lead him to the shooting range. You took a look at the paper ducks with bullseye on them, then turned to the man behind the counter.
“Excuse me, how many of those should I shoot to get that?” you asked, motioning at the teddy bear and the man looked up.
“3 sets, all bullseye.”
“Okay,” you said and reached for your purse but Bucky had already paid the man by the time you could get your wallet out. He gave you the toy rifle and you had to remind yourself you were supposed to be terrible at it no matter how much you wanted that goddamn plushie.
The good thing about being an expert sniper was that you knew exactly how to miss and look like an amateur. So you pointed the rifle slightly to the right and took your shot, and as expected you missed.
“No!” you whined and Bucky stifled a chuckle, but adapted a look of seriousness as soon as you turned around to look at him with your eyes narrowed.
“I said nothing.”
“That was just bad luck,” you insisted, then took your shot again, deliberately missing once more. You lowered the rifle, pouting.
“I’m pretty sure this is rigged.”
“Or maybe the guy with the deer head on his wall had no idea what he was talking about,” Bucky pointed out, “Almost like watching videos isn’t enough to figure out how to shoot, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”
“On the contrary, I am a little terrified now that I know you have a gun," he taunted you, “And seeing this…”
You glared at him and took your shot, missing again and you heaved a sigh, lowering the rifle again.
“Better luck next time miss,” the man said and you offered him a small smile. Bucky heaved a sigh as if he was fighting himself.
“Which one did you say you wanted again?” he asked and you pulled your brows together, then pointed at the huge teddy bear. He nodded at the guy and handed him some cash after giving you your cotton candy back, then grabbed the toy rifle from the man and in only a couple of seconds, he had hit every single bullseye, making your jaw drop.
Okay.
You were so screwed.
You knew that he was a great super soldier but seeing it was something else. A shiver ran down your spine as what you had read on his file flashed before your eyes. You were right earlier, you had to make sure to avoid any kind of combat with him by the time this whole mission was over.
“Y/N?”
Your head shot up and you tried to pull yourself together, letting out a breath.
“Wow,” you managed to say and the man behind the counter gawked between you two.
“Um— that one please?” you said and he blinked a couple of times, then reached out to take the teddy bear down to put it into your arms. You let out a small squeal of glee, then beamed at Bucky.
“Thank you!” you said, trying to keep your nervousness hidden and he smiled.
“No problem,” he motioned at you and you gave the teddy to him so that you could hold your cotton candy better. You shook your head slightly, distracting yourself with the sweetness on your tongue but a small laughter escaped from your lips when you took a look at the sight beside you.
The scary Winter Soldier holding a huge teddy bear in his arms.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you managed to say, “I’m going to name him Bucky.”
“No you’re not.”
“Fine, I’m going to name him Grumpy,” you said, “Same deal.”
“Hey!” he protested and you giggled, then looked around.
“Come on,” you said, grabbing his hand, “Let’s go to the Ring Toss!”
***
It was as if the time was going faster on your every single date with Bucky. Even after spending hours in that funfair until midnight, you were still quite giddy when you and Bucky reached your building. You let out a giggle as you turned around and took the huge teddy bear from him, hugging it tight.
“Thank you,” you said, looking up at him, “Really. I…I think it was the best that I’ve ever had.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah!” you said, “And now I have to find something equally amazing for a modern date, so no pressure.”
He chuckled, “You don’t have to find anything,” he said, “I’d be happy just being with you, not doing anything.”
Warmth filled your insides and you smiled.
“Really?”
“Really,” he nodded and you put the teddy bear down, then stood on your tiptoes to pull him down to a kiss.
His arm wrapped around your waist and you found yourself sighing as his other hand cupped your cheek. A fire – a very, very familiar fire started burning at the pit of your stomach as you felt yourself melt at his touch, every single doubt about the mission and the strategies and everything else wiping out of your mind until desire was the only thing left. He brushed your hair behind your ear as you pulled back and looked up at him, the same fire burning in his eyes but he was better than you at hiding it so a gentle smile pulled at his lips.
Fuck what the strategy report says.
“Um—“ you took a deep breath, “Would you want to come upstairs for...a cup of coffee or something?”
He looked almost surprised at the suggestion but for what it was worth, he overcame that quite fast. His gaze stopped on you for a moment before he nodded.
“Yeah,” he said, “Yeah I’d love to.”
A nervous laughter escaped from you and you nodded,
“Okay—“ you started but before you could say anything, his phone started ringing. He closed his eyes for a moment and took it out of his pocket to answer it.
“This is not a good time man,” he said, but his frown deepened as he listened to the other line, “Right now? Are you serious?”
You tilted your head and he heaved a deep sigh while the person told him something you couldn’t hear.
“Fine,” he muttered, “I’ll be there.”
Oh God damn it.
“Let me guess,” you said when he hung up, “Change of plans?”
He ran a hand over his eyes and nodded.
“Sam says there’s this group of people in need of help…” he grumbled, putting the phone into his pocket, “But somebody better be dying because if not, I can fix that really fast.”
You let out a laugh, “Don’t be like that,” you said, “It’s fine. I told you, I’m not going anywhere. Go save lives.”
“I’m really sorry darling.”
“It’s fine,” you repeated with a smile and pecked him on the lips before picking up the huge teddy bear. “But be careful, you hear me?”
“Yes ma’am,” he saluted and you blew him a kiss before walking into the building. You took the elevator, still holding the teddy tight and as soon as you got to your floor you stepped out.
“What the hell is that?” Keith’s voice reached you and you tilted your head to look around the teddy’s arm to see him by his door, as if he was just leaving.
“It’s a teddy bear,” you said, walking to your door to open it, Keith following you into the apartment.
“What’s in it?” he asked, “Weapons? Guns? Knives?”
“…Fiber.”
“Y/N—” he started but you put it on the floor and took a step back.
“Where are you going?”
“General gave me a mission,” he said, “You seriously want me to believe you just got a teddy bear just because?”
“I was on a date.”
“Oh,” he said, “Romantic. It would be a great way to hide weapons though, even you have to admit—”
“Bucky found my gun.”
Keith stopped talking and stared at you for a couple of seconds, “I beg your pardon?”
You rubbed at your eyes, “You heard me. He found my gun.”
“Why the hell did you not alert me?”
“There was no need.”
Keith threw his head back, “Are you serious right now?” he asked you, “This is the freaking Winter Soldier we’re talking about, you’re not supposed to take any chances! For God’s sake, I live next door for a reason!”
“My cover wasn’t blown,” you insisted, “If you or the team got here, all this would’ve been for nothing. I handled it.”
He crossed his arms, “Still an unnecessary risk to take,” he insisted, “Anything could’ve happened, Y/N. You’ve read his file.”
You nodded, “I handled it,” you said, “You should go by the way. You’re going to be late, the General hates that.”
“Do you want me to say anything to him?”
You thought for a moment and shook your head.
“No,” you said, “Good luck.”
“We will talk about this when I came back.” he pointed at you and left your apartment. You took a look at the teddy bear, then grabbed your phone to touch Chloe’s name.
“Hey there!” she answered on the first ring, “How was the funfair?”
“It was good,” you said, “Listen, I need you to make sure my background is solid.”
“What?” she asked, “It is, I made sure of that—“
“Bucky found my gun,” you said, “Earlier.”
She took in a sharp breath, “God damn it.”
“No it’s fine, I came up with this story of buying it from a shop after the mugging, but…”
“You need a document just in case,” she completed your sentence, “Got it. Do you think he would check?”
“No,” you said, “But Wilson might, he and Bucky are pretty close. It would be much harder to trick him.”
“Got it,” she said, “I’ll get the document ready, maybe some footage… And I’ll go over your social media just in case.”
“Great.”
“But are you okay?”
You paused only for a moment,
“Sure,” you said, “I’m fine, I handled it. It’s all going according to plan.”
“Alright,” she said, “I’d better get to it. Be careful!”
“You too,” you said and hung up, then went to the kitchen to grab a couple of knives before going back to the living room.
“Sorry about this Bucky number two,” you murmured as you turned it around, stuck the knife into it and started ripping it, “But you really would make a good place to hide weapons.”
Chapter 16
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#the falcon and the winter soldier#tfatws#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x you
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if carlisle and dumbledore were put in each other's respective stories / dilemmas , how do you think they would react? how would a carlisle cullen have dealt with voldemort/grindelwald? and how dumbledore would have dealt with vampirism, etc? i almost view the two of them as a sort of foil to each other, not yet able to articulate why or how though
I mean, they'd live completely different lives, because they're completely different characters. It's very unlikely they'd end up in the same situations.
But alright.
Carlisle is Dumbledore
Carlisle's born in a working class family that quickly begins to fall apart. His father's sent to prison, his mother dies, his sister has a chronic illness that will never disappear, and it's just him and his brother left with very little chance of a future between them.
Handsome Gellert Grindelwald moves in next store with grand, new, ideas concerning the muggles.
Now, this particular Carlisle won't be Christian, he's a pureblood wizard and we can pretty safely assume that the Dumbledores were no more religious than any other wizarding family is.
It's a little up in the air whether Carlisle would be seduced by Gellert or not. Gellert is learned, foreign, and has all these radical, new, theories that weren't very prevalent at the time (well, anti muggleborn sentiment was, the facism was new). On the other hand though, Carlisle is also a man who once radically changed his own beliefs to something that went against nearly every edict of his previous religion. This is not a guy who takes things for granted and is not afraid to both confront himself and the true nature of the world he lives in.
And he has a deep respect for human life that, had it been any lesser, would have undoubtedly led to him eating humans as a vampire.
So, I'm going to say no, or if he does, it lasts up until Gellert says, "We should totally make the muggles our slaves." The muggles may have irreparably damaged Carlisle's sister, they may be hated by society, but they are free thinking beings who should be enslaved to no one. Carlsile raises his pacifism flag.
As a result, Gellert probably thinks he's a tool. Hot, of course, and intelligent, but a useless tool. Without somebody to bounce ideas off of/confirm his radicalization, Gellert has little to no interest in Carlisle or any of the Dumbledores. Gellert spends his time in Godric's Hollow then goes elsewhere, Ariana lives, at least for now, unclear how long her lifespan was going to be otherwise, Carlisle does not have the Gellert incident, and he and Abeforth remain on good terms.
Carlisle graduates Hogwarts and either is a) bullied into taking Flamel's apprenticeship opportunity by Abeforth who screams "DUDE, GET YOURSELF A FUTURE or b) immediately sets about trying to find a relatively high paying job so he can support the family. In the case of B, I imagine he goes to work for the goblins who seem to hire those straight out of Hogwarts with good enough grades. In the case of A, well, he goes to study alchemy.
Knowing Carlisle, he does a bastardization of both. He studies alchemy under Flamel and then works nights as a bartender in Paris or something to that effect. When he finishes, what career he does then is out in the air.
Given that, as a vampire, he had all the choices in the world open to him in terms of education (and tried many different things) before eventually settling on and sticking with human medicine despite the dangers, I think that's telling. Carlisle probably tries to get a job in something healing related.
However, that strays more into the "What if Carlisle was in the wizarding world" vs. "What if Carlisle was Dumbledore" so we'll say that the idea of teaching appeals to him and he returns to Hogwarts for the Transfiguration position.
This all goes well except then there's a first world war on, the muggle world goes completely insane, and no one understands why Carlisle's so upset.
And now we enter the world where Carlisle starts really making choices in Dumbledore's shoes.
First, Tom Riddle. Carlisle, I imagine, makes 100,000 times of a better impression than Dumbledore on the young Tom. He does not, for one, light his wardrobe on fire and threaten him. Carlisle might think this kid is weird, but he lives in poverty and an orphanage, much of his behavior can be explained from that. I imagine Carlisle becomes determined to take Tom under his wing.
I imagine at first Tom thinks this is excellent, LOOK HOW MUCH HE'S MANIPULATING THIS ADULT! And then he realizes that, no, Carlisle is perfectly aware he's a little shit. He just likes talking to Tom after classes about how to fit in with pureblood society/weird esoteric muggle philosophy.
Trouble is, Carlisle is so damn likeable (see his friends all over the world), that Tom can't help but like him. When the Blitz begins, and Carlisle undoubtedly offers Tom (and any other muggleborn who was not moved to the country) a place to stay, that seals the deal, the wizarding world might suck but Carlisle's a pretty cool guy.
Of course, Tom still thinks the government should be reformed or overthrown, but he and Carlisle actually sit down to talk about things like communism and facism (Carlisle's not a fan though the modern, muggle, form of democracy not practiced in the wizarding world is a weird concept to him).
My point being, it's unlikely this Tom Riddle becomes Voldemort or even really aspires to become him. You want more on that topic, check out these posts.
Grindelwald meanwhile, becomes a bigger and bigger deal, and things start looking... bad. However, it's not immediately obvious that Carlisle's the one who should do something about it. He's not a duelist, he's a professor, and his job is to teach the children. He may have been alright in school, but that was decades ago now. More, unlike Albus, he feels no personal responsibility, he knew Gellert, briefly, yes, but they had no real connection. Gellert spoke about insane things and Carlisle said, "Mm, don't like". Add to that that Carlisle's a pacifist, he's going to insist that someone trained for the position do the job.
Given canon, this means that Grindelwald likely invades and takes over wizarding England and, with a strong enough foothold, enacts his "enslave the muggles" plan. Which very well might result in a nuclear holocaust as Grindelwald was likely not keeping up with muggle technology and the muggle world war.
The muggle world collapses, which in turn causes society collapse, and the world may or may not be a nuclear wasteland that Tom and Carlisle get to wander around.
If Carlisle by some divine intervention has a prophetic dream of "YOU MUST DEFEAT GRINDELWALD OR DOOM DOOM DOOM" then he goes and tries to defeat Grindelwald. Considering Grindelwald has the elder wand, he probably needs Deus ex Phoenix to win, but if it worked for Dumbledore it might work for Carlisle.
Well. No one saw that coming.
Carlisle's an overnight sensation and a national hero, the hero of Western Europe even. He's suddenly being presented medals, honors, seats of power, and Carlisle desperately tries to refuse, feeling very squeamish that he's being given these things because he took it upon himself to murder another human being (yes, even a war lord).
Tom finds this funny and Abeforth is ureservedly proud and tells everybody.
All Carlisle wanted to do was teach children and now he has to reside over trials in the Wizengamot. This is terrible.
As for what happens to the wizarding world from there, well, inertia probably carries it along for a good while. However, antimuggleborn sentiment is still on the rise an even without Voldemort I imagine there's quite a bit of unrest.
I imagine Carlisle, not wanting in any way to be a political figure, is not nearly as outspoken as Dumbledore on anything. He just wants to be headmaster, guys, leave him alone.
Tom may or may not go into politics and do it for him. But he probably ends up teaching too and just laughs as the country collapses.
Harry Potter is an ordinary student who has no prophecy surrounding him. Carlisle did not recruit children to join an illegal resistance movement nor does he have a plethora of spies and moles in the ministry.
Harry Potter canon does not happen.
Dumbledore is Carlisle
Well, Dumbledore undoubtedly also burned witches and very much believed in their existence. An irony there. He may chase the vampire, probably isn't first in the mob, in which case he remains human or dies.
If he does survive being bitten, I imagine it pains him for a while, but I don't see Albus having the same willpower as Carlisle. Or at least, not as much, Albus probably ends up eating people. He at first probably tries to be picky and eats those who harm society in some way (pick your poison for what that means) and then over time becomes less picky.
They're just humans, after all.
Albus probably isn't invited to stay in Volterra, he's not all that interesting. He doesn't become a human doctor, he's just your ordinary vampire. He might hang around libraries as much as he can but that's about as far as that extends.
He probably turns a Gellert equivalent at some point as a mate and they have a grand time together.
Edward is never turned nor the rest of the Cullens and Bella dies in a parking lot.
#twilight#twilight meta#twilight headcanon#twilight renaissance#carlisle cullen#albus dumbledore#meta#headcanon#opinion#harry potter#harry potter meta#harry potter headcanon
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A Christmas Impersonation
A Haytham Kenway x Reader One-Shot
Word Count: 2.9K
Warnings: Explicit Language, Sexual Humor
Author’s Note: Since my last Christmas fic was with Shay, I had to give y’all a Haytham one! DAY 11 OF TCF’s! Enjoy! -Thorne
“This…is an incredibly terrible idea, Shay.” she stated, resisting the urge to direct him away from the doors of the mansion. The music and laughter could be heard all the way outside, and each step only heightened her nerves.
He chuckled. “Relax, (Y/N).” he smiled at the couple passing them. “No one’s gonna know.”
“Someone is,” she couldn’t help but retort, heart pounding out of her chest as they walked up to the British officer at the door.
The man smiled politely at them, but she knew it was a smile that screamed, ‘I hate my life and I certainly hate you as well’.
“Invitation, please.” He said, and Shay dug inside the coat he wore.
He handed it over, watching with slight concern as the man looked it over. (Y/N) could feel the sweat drip down her spine, feeling like the man was reading it with suspicion.
Finally, he looked at them. “Lord and Lady Sheamus O’Kieran?”
They grinned and Shay murmured, “That’s us.” He rubbed the back of her hand. “It’s been a while since me and the Lady attended a ball. We’ve been traveling.”
“I understand, sir.” He nodded, handing back the invitation. “A pleasure to have you here tonight.” Turning, the Redcoat gestured inside. “Please enjoy yourselves.”
(Y/N) and Shay tipped their heads politely and stepped inside, immediately breathing heavy sighs of relief.
“Oh my god, I was sure we were going to get in trouble there.” She remarked, a hand massaging her chest.
“I told you we’d be fine.” His coffee eyes scanned the ballroom, taking in the sight of at least a hundred or so people all laughing and drinking. “Is this what upper-class parties are like?”
She huffed. “This place is boring compared to Callaghan’s on a Friday night.”
Shay snorted. “Agreed. It seems the people who govern us little ones don’t know how to party.”
He spied a servant walking past with a tray and grinned, snatching two champagne shoots. “Here you are, Lady O’Kieran.”
She took the drink. “Thank you, Lord O’Kieran.” Raising her glass to his, she warned, “Now remember, the whole point of tonight isn’t to get piss drunk. We’re here to—”
She narrowed her gaze as he started drinking. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?”
Shay eyed her. “I heard, ‘get piss drunk’, and decided to follow the instructions.”
“You’re a dipshit, Shay.” (Y/N) griped, taking a sip of her own. Her face scrunched up and she inconspicuously spat the champagne back into the glass. A shiver ran through her and she gagged. “Ugh.”
He chuckled. “It’s surprising that you don’t like that, considering the fact that you drink whiskey.”
She smacked her lips awkwardly, trying to get the taste out of her mouth. “Yeah, but whiskey actually tastes good.” (Y/N) glared into the shoot. “In the wise words of your dearly departed father, this tastes like horse piss.”
Shay had to fake a cough to hide his bark of laughter. “He’d be proud of you.”
They lapsed into silence, simply strolling around, and observing the party and décor. Stopping near one of the giant glass windows, she took to scrutinizing the gentlemen of the party.
A nudge to her side, followed by a whisper caught her attention. “Lady O’Kieran, you’re supposed to be a married woman. Are you searching for a lover?”
(Y/N) rolled her eyes and looked at him. “Well, someone has to satisfy a woman’s needs and you’re not.”
Shay actually seemed offended by that one, placing a hand to his chest. “That hurt.”
“You’ll live,” she retorted, eyes following the men until she landed on one talking to an older woman. He was handsome, strong facial features, broad shoulders, definitely fit under all those layers, and his eyes. Oh, his eyes were drop dead striking, like gunmetal. And she wanted to know them. Badly.
She tapped repeatedly at his arm. “That one. I want that one.”
Shay shoved his face against hers, his facial hair scratching her cheek as he asked, “Which one?”
(Y/N) nodded at the dark-haired man, taking in the crimson ribbon that neatly tied his hair back. “The one with the tricorn.”
His face pinched. “You mean the one that screams, ‘I’m a pretentious asshole that has a stick shoved up my arse’? That one.”
A smirk grew on her lips. “Oh yeah.” She sighed. “I want to climb that man like a tree.”
He gagged. “Gross.”
“Are you kidding me, Shay?” she questioned, nodding at the man who’d begun to look around. “Look at his hands. And his thighs. And his really…firm…body. That is a man who knows what a woman wants and how to give it to her.”
“I’m really glad you’ve finally found someone to break your celibacy vow, but please, please, please, understand that I am not as interested in men as you are.”
“From what I’ve seen in Portugal, you’re a damn liar,” she countered.
Shay scowled at her. “I thought we agreed to not bring that up.”
(Y/N) turned to him. “No, you said, ‘don’t bring this up’ and I nodded.”
“That means you agreed.”
“No, I would have to verbally express understanding to agree. I never did.”
Shay leaned forward, but before he could say anything, someone cleared their throat, making them slap smiles on their faces and turn.
(Y/N) felt her cheeks warm at the sight of the man they’d been talking about, suddenly standing in front of her.
His steely gaze was focused on her. “Good evening.”
The two of them bowed politely. “Good evening, sir.” She replied, Shay following in suit.
He held out his hand to Shay. “I don’t believe you and I have ever met. Haytham Kenway.”
She watched Shay take Haytham’s hand, firmly shaking it. “Shay—” (Y/N) elbowed him in the side with a cheery smile and he corrected. “Sheamus. Sheamus O’Kieran.”
He let go and gestured to (Y/N). “This is my wife—”
Holding her hand out, she said, “Temperance O’Kieran. A pleasure to meet you.” She giggled as Haytham pressed a kiss to her hand.
“The pleasure is all mine, Lady O’Kieran.” He murmured, and she could palpably feel Shay rolling his eyes at them.
Haytham freed her hand and eyed them. “I’ve made a habit of knowing the guests of this party, and while I know the regulars, I’ve never seen the two of you.” His gaze was kind, but she could see the suspicion brewing within. “What do the two of you do?”
Shay’s mouth opened, but nothing came out and (Y/N) quickly intervened. “We work for a businessman over in New York. He usually attends the parties, but he came down with a cold and asked us to fill in for him.”
“Rather unusual,” Haytham remarked, but left it alone. “Is this your first time?”
“It is,” Shay said. “First in a while, that is. We’ve been traveling.”
“Oh?” It seemed the man’s interest had been piqued. “Where to?” The question was directed at Shay, but his eyes were on (Y/N).
Her friend rolled his eyes. “My drink is empty. I’m going to get another one.” He looked at (Y/N). “You should stay and talk.”
Her brows pulled together as she eyed the drink in his hand. “What are you talking about? You have a glass full—”
She pulled an unimpressed look as Shay tipped his head back and downed the whole thing, before handing her the glass.
“Look at that, my drink is empty.” He remarked with a smart tone.
(Y/N) let out an unladylike snort, and though a grin came across her lips, she wheezed, “I hate you, so much.” Shay winked and stalked off, leaving her to turn back to Haytham who wore an amused expression.
“I take it that Sheamus knows when to have a moment to himself?” he inquired.
She huffed, fumbling with the two champagne shoots. “Only when I tell him off.”
Haytham laughed, taking the two glasses from her, though hers was full.
“Oh wait, I wasn’t—” she started, but he cut her off.
“You didn’t like it anyways.” He said and she felt her cheeks heat up.
“You…saw that?”
He chuckled. “Only the ones who were watching.”
(Y/N) felt a smirk cross her lips. “Oh? Were you watching me, Haytham?” she tutted at him. “Shame on you for eyeing a married woman.
He pulled a coy smile, holding out a hand. “May I have this dance?”
Her heart dropped. “I can’t dance.” She blurted out, and when he cocked a brow, she added, “Well. I can’t dance well.” (Y/N) motioned to his boots. “I’ll step on toes.”
Haytham took her hand anyway, pulling her to the floor. “Step on them anyway, Temperance.”
“Ho boy.” She muttered, then upon seeing other couples coming their way, she asked, “What dance are we doing? Please be a Riverdance. Please be a Riverdance.”
He glanced to the orchestra. “I believe it’s a La Bonne Amité.” Haytham smiled at the anxiety on her face. “Follow my lead.”
“I’ll try,” (Y/N) ground out.
Haytham turned sideways, her following and took his hat off, bowing low. She quickly curtsied, then faced him, giving him one as well.
They tapped opposite hands, and when they came together, he murmured, “Remember to smile.”
***
By the time they were finished, her feet were killing her, and Haytham knew it, leading her away.
“Tired you out already?” he teased, causing her to huff.
“Oh please, dancing is a different type of game than se—running!” she corrected herself, a warmth spreading across her cheeks as she internally cursed herself.
Haytham chuckled at her. “You’re a curious woman, Temperance.”
(Y/N) couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “And how many women have you twisted that line to?”
His steel eyes narrowed. “Just the ones who intrigue me.”
“Haytham, I hate to make you unhappy, but I’m a marr—”
“You’re not married,” he abruptly stated, making her go silent, jaw slack. “And your reaction proves it.”
Before she could say anything, her eyes caught sight of the Redcoat from the door pointing at her and muttering something to the guard next to him.
Her eyes went wide, and she gulped. “Uh oh.”
Haytham’s eyes followed hers. “What is it?”
She didn’t respond, quickly bypassing him. “Time to go.”
(Y/N) hurried off, searching wildly for Shay, but he was nowhere to be found. “Motherfucker, where is he?” she cursed to herself.
Darting into the hallway, she was met with a row of doors and she groaned, hurriedly opening them. After the fifth one, she swung open the door and saw Shay bent over a desk, a woman on top of him.
She blinked at them, then spat, “Hey!” Their heads snapped to him. “You’re supposed to be married, you dumb fucker.”
Shay scoffed, sitting up as the woman turned her face away. “Way to ruin the moment, (Y/N).”
She shook her head, running over to him. “Doesn’t matter, we have to go. Now.”
“Why?” he questioned, and she reached over, snatching him by the ear.
“Because they know! We have to go now!”
He batted her hand away, gently lowering the woman to her feet. “I promise if you come to the pub downtown called Callaghan’s, I’ll be there.”
The woman smiled and (Y/N) leaned over, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Sis, this man is a damn fool, do not trust a word that comes out of his mouth.”
“HEY!” Shay shouted, but she was too busy, yanking him off.
“Come on! I do not wanna hang because we impersonated lords and ladies!”
They stuck their head out the door and saw a pair of Redcoats down the hallway. The woman walked out of the room, ignoring the guards and (Y/N) shut the door.
“Okay, we need to leave.”
“Out the window?!” Shay yelped and she nodded.
“That’s our only option!” She started towards the window but stopped and yanked at her dress. “Shit! I can’t climb in this thing.”
(Y/N) looked at him. “Do you have a knife on you? I need to get out of this now.”
Shay shook his head. “No, I don’t have one on me.”
“Why not?!” she hissed, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, I have one.”
“Where?” he asked, and she fell silent. “(Y/N), where’s the knife?”
She swallowed thickly, starting to bunch up her dress. “Strapped to my thigh.” Her eyes met his and she waited.
His face streaked crimson. “I am not crawling under your dress.”
“Shay Cormac get this knife from my leg or we’re fucked!” she ordered.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned, kneeling in front of her to feel up her thigh. She felt an uncomfortable feeling welling in her and she looked down at him.
“Hurry!” she spat. “And don’t stick your hand up my drawers or I’ll bloody your nose.”
“Not like I haven’t seen anything up there before,” he retorted, then his hand stopped. “I think I’ve got it.”
However, before he could remove it, the door opened and they turned their gazes to the man entering, afraid it was a Regular. It wasn’t.
“Haytham?” (Y/N) exclaimed, and his eyes drug over the two. “I swear to God this isn’t what it looks like.” He cocked a brow and she sighed. “I have a knife strapped to my leg and I need it to get the dress off.”
He hummed. “It seems to me that two Regulars are chasing after a supposed lord and lady.” Crossing over to them, he extended some blade from his wrist and cut the ties on the back of her dress, shirking them down. The skirt fell with it, leaving her in her drawers and bodice.
If she hadn’t been terrified of being caught, she would’ve been embarrassed. Haytham helped her step out of the fabric and Shay hurried to the window, propping it open.
“Come on!” he commanded and (Y/N) hesitated, drawing her eyes from Haytham to him.
“Why aren’t you turning us in?” she questioned, staring him down.
His eyes narrowed. “Because I’m curious.”
Before she could say anything, Shay complained, “Hey, Cecilia Celibate, are you done trying to get into his pants yet?”
She whirled around on him. “As a matter of fact, no! I’m not done yet!” (Y/N) spun and grabbed Haytham by the lapels of his cloak and yanked him forward into a searing kiss.
Pulling away, she breathed, “God, if you and I ever meet again, I want to bang you like a door in a hurricane.” Haytham choked on his spit and she let him go, chasing after Shay, who’d already descended into the garden.
(Y/N) winked as she climbed the railing and vaulted over the side.
***
“So, Shay, tell me about your friend who’s been running with you for some time now.” Haytham’s question was barely audible over the howling of the snowstorm, and Shay had to crane his neck to hear.
“(Y/N). She’s my best friend sir. The unofficial-official first mate of the Morrigan.”
“Oh?” The Grandmaster hummed. “I thought Gist was.”
Shay shrugged his shoulders and grabbed the tavern door handle. “Well, he is, but the crew knows to take her orders as if they were mine.”
“You trust her quite a lot then.” Haytham surmised.
“Aye, I do. Especially now that she’s joined me with the Templars.” The Assassin-Hunter held the door for him, following inside after.
The warmth of the fireplace reached them, a stark contrast from the absolutely frigid temperature outside and Shay nodded to a woman at the counter.
“That’s her,” he murmured and Haytham looked over, seeing a familiar woman.
***
(Y/N) tapped the counter, eyes following the old man behind it. “Callaghan, can I get three shots of whiskey? Irish, please.”
The silver bearded man turned to her, placing the shot glasses down. “Is someone joining you and Shay?”
She watched as he poured the amber liquid. “Yeah, our boss.”
“Ah,” Callaghan remembered. “The one Shay’s been under.”
(Y/N) nodded. “For a while. He’s been running it and working on getting me in. He said that the boss would meet me tonight and decide if I was material for the outfit.”
“Of course you are lassie. Look at you.” His calloused hands waved at her. “You and the lad would be dead if it wasn’t for you.”
She smiled and looked down. “Yeah…tell me about it.”
“(Y/N)!” She glanced over her shoulder, eyes meeting Shay’s, then to the man beside him, and her heart stutter, eyes going wide.
She blinked, then turned to the bartender, deadpanning, “Callaghan, I’d like to change my order to a large glass of whiskey. Actually, just give me the bottle, because I’m gonna to go dive off a cliff and I don’t want it to hurt so bad.”
“Recognize him?” the bartender whispered.
“More than you know.” She replied, immediately grabbing the first shot glass. She downed it, then the other two went with it.
(Y/N) shuddered, then spun on her seat, grinning at the man. “Haytham. Fancy meeting you again.”
He smiled knowingly at her. “Merry Christmas…Temperance O’Kieran.”
She coughed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Actually, me and the feller,” her eyes darted to Shay who wore a shit-eating grin, “divorced.”
Sticking out her hand, she introduced herself. “(Y/N) (L/N). A pleasure.”
Haytham took her hand, kissing the back of it. “Pleasure’s all mine.”
#haytham kenway x reader#haytham kenway x reader imagine#haytham kenway x reader imagines#haytham kenway imagine#haytham kenway imagines#haytham kenway#ac rogue#ac rogue imagine#ac rogue imagines#assassins creed rogue#assassins creed rogue imagine#assassins creed rogue imagines#ac imagines#ac imagine#assassins creed imagine#assassins creed imagines#shay cormac
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Underwater Gotham Kingdom Idea
Gotham is an underwater kingdom where dwell a number of different type of merpeople live and work. There are five types of merpeople; octopi, shark, whale, dolphin, and manta. The last two are of a more ruling class, while the former three are seen as less. Still, that doesn’t stop those like shark James Gordon from joining the royal guard, or Orca Alfred Pennyworth from being brought on as a companion for a young noble, manta Bruce Wayne. Martha Wayne was a dolphin and, due to an accident involving the stingers on his tail, Martha died giving birth to him. Thomas has always blamed himself as Bruce inherited his own manta tail instead of his beloved Martha’s dolphin tail. As such, Thomas threw himself into his work, neglecting Bruce.
After countless companions, Alfred Pennyworth is more than a match for rambunctious twelve-year-old Bruce Wayne, especially when Bruce gets a young guard as further protection. Jim and Alfred become fast friends with each other and Bruce, and the pair teach him a lot of different tricks when it comes to fighting. One day, Bruce is swimming around, when he notices a large group of octopi, sharks, and whales swimming together; a little unusual, and he’s curious enough to follow them. When he gets there, he finds a number of octopi, sharks, and whales all gathered together with shark Theo Galavan talking about over throwing their government! He’s about to swim away when he sees something that takes the wind out of his sails and he feels his heart break; Alfred and Jim are there, and they reveal themselves to be spies meant to learn the weaknesses of the palace.
Before Bruce can swim away, he’s caught by a shark named Zsasz who presents him to the group. Galavan is ready to kill Bruce, except that Bruce uses the venom in his tail to hurt Galavan enough to get away. He dodges all of the sharks, octopi, and whales who try to grab him, and uses many of the tricks he learned from Alfred and Jim to make it back to Gotham, but he just wasn’t fast enough and Galavan’s forces start their attack. Galavan finds Bruce and goes to kill him, but Thomas gets in the way, protecting his son. Between Thomas’ more mature venom and and Galavan’s sharp teeth, the two manage to kill each other. Bruce is pulled from the fray by Captain of the Guards, Nathaniel Barnes who takes Bruce to the throne room in one last effort to keep Gotham from falling into the Rebellions hands entirely. He charges shark soldier Harvey Bullock and dolphin sorcerer Lucius Fox with protecting Bruce as Bruce holds the crown jewel of Gotham; a beautiful star sapphire referred to as the Heart of Gotham. The three make their way out of the city and to the one place the Rebels can’t follow; the surface world..
As the three break through the surface, Lucius casts an ancient spell to give them human legs, but is reminded that none of them have ever swam with human legs and have trouble keeping afloat. Thankfully, a family are out on the water and see them, rescuing them. They are Jonathan and Martha Kent, with their twelve-year-old son, Clark, who takes an immediate liking to Bruce.
Five years pass, and Smallville High doesn’t know what to make of the ‘honourary cousins’, Clark Kent and Bruce Fox; on one hand, both boys are handsome jocks that are on the football team, on the other, both boys are huge dorks. Soon, however, they get something new to focus on as a number of new people have moved to Smallville; a new clothing store opened by a Jervis Tetch, whose fashion styles are geared more towards children, and Oswald Cobblepot, who makes very sharp suits for men and women.
Then, there are three new students attending Smallville High; the Valeska twins, Jerome and Jeremiah, and a student said to be a chem genius, Jonathan Crane. To top it off, they get three substitute teachers as well; Victor Fries takes over the science course, Ben Mackenzie takes over as coach for the football team, and Sean Pertwee takes over their history course. At one of the home games, Harvey, Martha, and Lucius are all cheering for their boys (Jonathan having died from cancer two years ago) when Harvey sees Coach Mackenzie, and recognizes his old partner, even through the illusion spell he and ‘Sean’ are wearing. He informs the coach he wants to talk to him later, at the bar he tends at. Saying that he thinks the two have a lot to talk about.
Ben/Jim: Hi Harvey; Oswald was a little surprised you recognized me through Ed’s glamour spell.
Harvey: Ed was always good with magic, almost as good as Lucius was before he gave it up for technology. But you should have remembered that I always had a knack for seeing through spells.
Jim: Yeah, I guess we forgot that. You look good though; the surface world actually agrees with you.
Harvey: It’s not too bad up here; at least up here I don’t have to worry about being stabbed in the back by my own species.
Jim: Harvey...
Harvey: Tell me, how many women and children died that day? I know old Thomas managed to take Galavan down with him; Bruce had nightmares for over a year thanks to him. Tell me, was Galavan supposed to kill him too, or were you going to do that? Nice and quick?
Jim, eyes flashing black and teeth sharpening: Alfred and I would never harm Bruce; you know we loved and doted on him! And Thomas wasn’t supposed to get hurt, but Galavan was insane and hated the Wayne’s.
Harvey: Unless you want people to notice something not right, I’d suggest you calm down. And yeah, I remember just how much you two loved that kid, and can’t help but notice you and the others came here just after the kid turned seventeen; courting age.
Jim: You know he belongs in Gotham.
Harvey: No, here’s what I know; Bruce had no friends and no family apart from Thomas in Gotham, here he has friends, and he and Clark are practically brothers. Lucius likes it up here too; says that human tech is a lot more fun to work with than magic. And finally, me and Martha are happy, we...
Jim: Martha?
Harvey:Clark’s mother? She and her husband Jonathan taught us all about the surface world after they rescued us that day. But Jonathan died two years ago from Cancer, and I looked after her; the two of us have been going steady for almost six months. And it’s because of that I’m willing to offer you, your fellow consorts, and the King of Gotham a deal; we give you the Heart of Gotham and you let the three of us remain here on the surface world.
Jim:...
#Gotham#underwater au#bruce wayne#jim gordon#alfred pennyworth#oswald cobblepot#jerome valeska#jeremiah valeska#jervis tetch#jonathan crane#victor fries#smallville crossover#jonathan kent#martha kent#clark kent#lucius fox#harvey bullock
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Ok, first question about Luckyboy!AU, Rook has a girlfriend? As far as I know in cannon he doesn't even have a love interest? thought that might be my fault since it's been years since I've watched any Ben 10 series (really have to rewatch some eppisodes here :P) Who is she and what is she like? Has Rook ever taken her girlfriend in a date to the coffee shop? How much of a tease is Ben with Rook when he isn't on a date? And how much of a wingman is he when he is in one?
How is Ben's social life outside his Nekomata persona by the way? I imagine he still has some friends since he's a charismatic extrovert, but with how different everything is here compared to the prime timeline, I can't see who he might be friends with besides Julie.
Now, let's make some questions that aren't about Ben :D With the amount of invasions that Earth has had over the years is the general public privy of the existence of aliens as something more than just tourists that one almost never sees, or do they know but only aknowledge it when they see an alien in person? How is the general people view of aliens regardless?
Also, does Gwen 10 have good or bad public relations? Like, does Will Harangue berate her and turn the public against her, or is she lucky enough that he's focused on Nekomata and not her? How do the humans see her, as a hero, a child soldier, a menace, a necessary evil?
Also also, how do the Plumbers play in the whole PR thing? Do they manipulate everything so the humans have the view they think is the healthiest between humans and aliens? Do they only play damage control whenever alien activity is reported to the public? Are they known or are they still an underground organization? How does the public view them as, considering they're basically intergalactic police that aren't the most competent, specially considering that some countries have beef with their own police forces?
Now, to leave all of the political and heavy talk behind, how often does Ben play with Ship and Julie? Like, they're friends, obviously Ben gets petting privilegies and becomes a pet sitter whenever Julie has to go on a tournament and can't take care of them herself. PET SHENANNIGANS MUST ENSUE THERE, AND YOU CAN'T CONVINSE ME OTHERWISE XD
Also, I imagine a scenario where Kevin and Gwen enter the coffee shop unaware that the other is in there and Ben does everything in his power to force them to sit on the same table, reminding both of them that this is a true neutral zone and "Please don't break anything here and remember to play nice, if you manage to get through this without punching eachother I'll give you a discount on your next coffee", which is a very good offer if they think about it. Meanwhile Argit is waiting at the bar watching over the situation "Bet you 10 bucks they'll be shouting over eachother in 5 minutes" "Bet you it takes them 10 minutes"... It takes them 7 and a half minutes exactly and they can't decide who wins the bet. "There's no way they're getting out of this hating eachother any less" "As long as they don't break anything and don't bother the other clients, I count it as a win"
So Rook had an established relationship in Omniverse with Rayonna, she was introduced abit later in the series when Ben and Rook with to Revonnah. It was a very 2D relationship, just put there maybe cause of the whole shipping fiasco between Ben and Rook(?) don't take my word for it ;;
For the Lucky Boy! AU, they're together, but it's been years since Rooks been to Revonnah, crime never takes a break, neither does he. So his relationship with Rayonna is very flakey, they're on the verge of breaking up, buuut due to Revonnahgander traditions, they're together still. (pulling this out of my ass ;; )
Rook ends up mentioning he has a girlfriend at some point, it was just a casual thing, Ben won't bring up the topic because the way Rook talks about Rayonna makes him feel a little bit iffy towards the subject.
Outside of work and the Nekomata persona Ben's a little awkward in the social circumstances. At that point his social battery's almost completely clocked out. So unless he's dragged out by his friends, Julie, his old soccer mates - although it's happening a lot less now, since school finished a while ago and they're moving on with their own lives- (i refuse to call it football), Alan, if they both end up clocking out at the same time. OR, Rook. Sometimes Max if he's around will invite Ben for lunch or an afternoon snack run. (Mr smoothies, with a "healthy" dose of chillie fries. Best way to lure Ben out.)
Hell yeah, let's get down to the world building buisness, my favourite cup of tea.
Humans are very knowledgeable about alien existence, you'd have to be pretty ignorant to not believe in aliens. (I mean, lets face it, in the world we live in today, I bet, that if aliens did show themselves, some group would just say they're government actors, or russian/chinese spies. Comical, but sadly a realistic scenario...)
With the amount of invasions that have happened, and the daily attacks- normally done by humans with access to alien tech- Humans are quite fearful of them. Which has urged the plumbers to keep the aliens that live on earth down underTown.
It's not all humans of course, just most. Media influence has also pushed the feardar way up.
Will Harangue, surprisingly uplifts Gwen 10 to the eyes of the public, he's also much more focused on Nekomata. (bad news= views= good news). In Harangues personal opinion though, he'd prefer no aliens at all. So he does let his badmouthing of Gwen slip sometimes.
They do a lot of damage control, their original goal was to keep alien life hidden from the public until they(the people) were deemed ready, however, not so easy when an invasion happens nearly once a month. At least it's all limited to Bellwood. For now...
The plumbers are known to the public but aren't like your typical police force- you can't just call them. But they're always around on patrol. The police aren't exactly fond of them cause "They're terking our jerbs". But they have a joint thing going on, the police handle the human crimes, unless alien tech is involved, and the plumbers handle the alien crimes.
The public views them as an iffy subject, not exactly hailed as heroes, but more of a neutral, they're here to stay I guess, kinda thing. The focus is on Gwen mostly, as the poster child(adult) of the plumbers. (this is where I really wanna separate reality and fantasy, cause like, the issues with the police at the moment is major sooo, eh, it's a touchy subject matter)
Yes to this one. When Julie's away Ben and Ship play. Ben and Julie don't meet up often, work and the vigilante life make Ben way too busy, buuut when they do meet up Julie will pop by Bens apartment - Ben makes sure nothing incriminating is around if that's the case - , or they'll hang out at the dog park, and watch the dogs go ballistic around Ship.
For the pet scenarios, visualize them to your hearts content. I got some cats laying around for my reference... even though they mostly sleep- lazy bastards.
Yes to this too! Argit and Ben would totally make bets- Ben being an anodite can sense Kevin and Gwens emotions and when they're gonna break out into a fight- So he always wins the bets. Argit has learned to not bet too high when it comes to that- if he actually forks up in the first place- .
In the case Kevin and Gwen had broken out into a fist fight, Kevin obsorbing the marble counter, Gwen turning into fourarms. Ben nearly broke his cover trying to prevent any fights, until a coworker had stepped in and promptly kicked them both out. (maybe I'll design some coworkers)
Now to get me some mint tea, cause my fingers are about to freeze off ;;
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Buck up captain because this is gonna be a long one
Okay so the ruling family of a kingdom has been assassinated, except for the seemingly naive and reckless princess who snuck out the night before the assassination to go on a vacation. When she returns, the conniving government officials and advisors invite her to a dinner and plan to poison her food. But then she like totally flips the tables on them and calmly switches her food with the head advisor in front of everyone, and they just awkwardly sit there waiting for him to eat it (since he’s the one who invited her, he has to eat first)
The great hall was as beautiful and decorative as ever. Reema hated this room- she always had. It was part of the reasons why she snuck out last night, into the gardens, into the woods beyond the palace walls, into a world where she didn’t have to keep her chin held high with thighs pressed together beneath a dress too big and too obnoxious to sit- or stand- in. In the woods, she could shed her clothes, jump in a lake, climb out, air dry in the summer breeze, and redress. Sometimes, if she were feeling up to it, she’d throw pebbles into a village boy’s window, and invite him to go skinny-dipping with her.
Last night wasn’t one of those nights, not as she heard heavy armour clanking and swords being drawn. The woods weren’t far enough from the palace that she couldn’t hear such horrors. She could have run back, could have tried to save the crowns she knew were being destroyed, but well- Reema was safe. Why should she throw herself back into the chaos when she was so safely away from it? Reema stayed in the woods.
How did she know there was an attack against her family? Easy. All those boys from the poorer villages were such gossips, telling the princess anything as long as she thought to ask. Being the self-preserver of the family, Reema asked about any rumours involving the royals, or nobles. There weren’t many, but some of the captains had been meeting up several regions away from the core palace- something that hadn’t been authorized by the king or queen. Reema had asked them- even snuck into her mother and father's chamber and office spaces, looking for any suspicious documents. There was nothing.
So, it was clear. There would be a coup.
Naturally, the princess would have to return. The consequence of returning to the palace on her own was better than if she stayed out. Reema would be hunted down if she continued to run, hence why she was sat in the Great Hall now, with a feast in front her- steaming hot and almost ready to eat. All she, and the rest of the Cabinet, had to do was wait for the "lead duke."
The princess peered at her plate, then to the lord boy's next to her. "Well, that is a delicacy," she said to him. Her plate was riddled with unorganized slivers of asparagus lathered in some...sauce...she'd never seen. Reema didn't even like asparagus- those nasty sprouts of green.
"Say, what do you have?" She examined the plate on her left, another plate better than her own. "So that is how it is going to be." Poisoning. Did they really view her so pathetically they wouldn't even bother giving her a proper death? Reema sighed, standing from her seat and meandering to the head advisor's still-empty chair.
They all thought she was so naive, didn't they? That she wouldn't be able to spot a difference in meals. The least they could have done was give her a meal she actually liked, but then again, why waste pockets of coin on someone who would be dead within two bites anyways? It would have made sense if the princess weren't so secretly aware.
"I am not sure what rumours you have all heard, but I do so very much like a good roast." Reema reached past the massive cushioned chair and pulled the delicious dish away before setting her asparagus- they didn't even offer her any meat on her plate-down in its stead. "His Grace will not mind if his most honoured guest gets a proper meal, yes?" She took the roast back to her own seat.
Looking left and right again, the princess was delighted to see the astonished faces of the Cabinet. They did nothing- of course they wouldn't when not all of the guards were loyal to their cause. There were perhaps more guards who did support the menacing lords, but- well, who would want to take getting pierced in the heart by the few who didn't? Better to let the leading duke fall than to have five of them gutted.
The doors to the dining hall were opened and in stepped the great duke himself. "Good evening, lords and ladies. Princess, I do hope you were able to find yourself comfortable. The servants informed me of a fall you had in the woods before you came home from your little getaway."
Those hideous spies! Of course they were watching for me. Just how many people within the princess' own castle were working against her in secret?
"A minor inconvenience, Your Grace." Reema watched as the duke crossed to the other side of the table and a servant pulled out his seat. He eyed his plate; the princess had to withhold a smile. "It was only a bruise." Only a bruise from the hand of a traitorous guard gripping her arm as she approached the front gates. Her smile fell into a thin, and controlled, line.
Seeing the devious duke sit where her father once did ripped into her gut and shredded every piece of her, but the anger and cunning outwitted the pain and sorrow she felt. The duke would die and then she would move on to taking the others out- hopefully, assuming they didn't get to her first. The odds of her surviving were seeming less and less likely.
"I did want to thank you for inviting me to this meal, Your Grace. I am...appreciative to have such a gracious and caring Cabinet to step in when...what is lost is lost." When my family has been viciously killed. The gut-wrenching feeling was growing stronger with every word Reema muttered. Maybe it was wrong of her to save her own life. Maybe she should have died with her family.
As the duke examined his plate of traded vegetables, Reema couldn't help but to wonder, Do they know I know of their crimes? They must not have if they thought poisoning her would work. Now, however, the duke eyed her with contempt.
"Shall we eat, Your Grace? The host always dines first." It would have been nice to admit that she felt quite nice having made such a statement, but seeing the way the duke's lower jaw jutted out made her nervous enough to swallow. No one at the rest of the table was objecting as His Grace forked a green stem, though.
The duke cleared his throat and eyed a servant standing nearby. "I believe I asked for the roast along with our guests."
"Perhaps we should just eat," said someone else at the table. Looking, Reema saw a knight- one who was once close with her brother. So, the knight was against killing the royal family at least. The princess would need to talk to him after this meal was over, see if he was willing to help her escape the same fate as her family. He might need saving, too. No one else in the Cabinet spoke up for a reason- it would make one a target.
"My Grace, I apologize, but there is no more roast. It was divided evenly between each guest member, except for the dish of-" The servant was cut off with a quick shush, though many may have called it a hiss.
Lifting the fork to his lips, the duke stared at a wall above everyone's head. Perhaps he was facing Death herself in those moments he bit into the green vegetable. His nose twitched, but the rest of the effects did not take place until minutes later. He coughed, gripping his throat as everyone was digging into their own meals.
Reema did not touch her plate- just in case the rest of the Cabinet had been planning to poison the duke already. It was perhaps paranoid, but when she was sat at a table of people fully willing to kill her family, she would have been dense to assume they would not try their hand at killing each other as well.
When the duke's coughs turned to chokes, the table was dismissed by one of the lords, presumably one who would next try his hand at leading the betraying Cabinet.
Standing from her seat, Reema rushed to her brother's friend, the knight, but both she and he were stopped. Her, by the arm of the lord boy who sat to her right- and the knight, by three separate men. The only reason the lord boy could stop Reema was because his hand laid where her bruise was.
"Let go of me, now."
"I am to escort you to your rooms," the boy said, certainly not letting go, and even going as far as to tighten his grip on her.
Reema, with little thought, shoved him with her free hand, unknowingly gaining the attention of those working to restrain the knight. "Under whose orders? I am your princess- queen." She was the queen now, wasn't she? Not officially, for there had not been a coronation to prestige her, but yes. Reema was Queen now. "You will release me this instant."
A new voice interceded. "No can do, Princess." The lord who dismissed dinner. Reema rolled her eyes, ceasing her small efforts of rebellion and control. "No more adventures into the woods. However you snuck there before, I have not a clue, but I promise you this; it will not be happening again." A breath. "Son, I believe I told you to take her away."
With a quick and high-pitched laugh, the princess shrugged a shoulder- her free one, of course. The lord boy was Sir Big Lord's son, huh? Perfect.
If the lord had been a Lady of the Court, Reema might have used a fist aimed high. Being a lord, though, all she had to do was jut a knee up.
The lord fell to a knee, hands over his groin. The son, in turn, released the princess- as she so pleasantly requested before.
Now, she just had to face the rest of the Cabinet in order to reach the knight. The ladies wouldn't be an issue. They valued their reputable poise and silent seething too much to intervene- especially when they knew the princess was willing to physically fight her new opponents in order to fend for herself. It was the men- the ones with swords on their...a realization dawned on Reema.
Swords and other weapons were taken from Cabinet members when they entered the Great Hall. Those would be outside the great doors. And although Reema's nails were riddled with dirt, they were still long and sharp.
Reema would claw her way to the knight if she had to.
#request fill#this was a long request so I hope I did the idea justice!#I meamt to finish this in a day like usual but one day became like four. this weekend was nuts.#alright- normal tags#medieval#medieval writing#royal assassination#assassination#poisoning#death#um#royal#royalty#??#royal whumpee#what else#royal whump#Okat that's all I've got
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Before the Wall part 61
Masterlist
----
Initially, moving everyone to Cretea seemed like a brilliant solution to a terrible situation. In practice, though, it soon turns out that there are about a hundred problems attached that Miryam didn’t see coming at the first glance.
The first issue is, obviously, that most of their people do not want to move to Cretea. In spite of knowing about Shey and the other Fae members of the Alliance wanting them dead, the Seraphim still thought they would be able to return home to Erithia, and they are understandably reluctant to leave their home behind. The idea of moving to an island that is considered holy in their religion does little to ease their unhappiness, either. Meanwhile, the humans are theoretically fine with moving to some island they never heard of before, but are far from pleased at the prospect of having to share that island with a group of Fae.
Convincing everyone to go along with the plan takes days, and it only works because the alternative is to risk getting murdered. There are several concessions that need to be made, though. For one, it quickly becomes apparent that the Seraphim will only agree to come along if their friends and families can come as well. That was not initially something Miryam and Drakon had planned for – no need to drag more people than absolutely necessary into it, after all – but the Seraphim refuse to leave otherwise, and so they have no choice but to spirit the hundreds of thousands of Erithians still waiting in Erithia away to their camp. The attack they stage to cover their tracks is not exactly a good trick, but they hope that in the general chaos ensuing all over the Continent right now, no one will think to double-check.
Meanwhile, the humans come up with a few demands of their own to assure their safety. Most importantly, they downright refuse to be ruled over by any Fae. (“No offence to your husband,” Niria, who relays the decision to Miryam, says, “He seems nice enough, but he’s still Fae.”) Miryam would have picked Niria for the job of leading the humans, but everyone else seems to agree that it will obviously be her who takes up the role, and she has to admit that it’s convenient for an eventual unity within their soon-to-be-formed country to have the rulers of the Fae and humans already married to each other. Eventually, they might actually manage to get a unified government for all people living on Cretea, but for the moment, it is agreed upon that humans and Fae will be governed separately, with an option of merging the two governments eventually should both sides agree.
By the time they finally move on to the next issue (how to get everyone to Cretea), the Continent has already completely dissolved into chaos. They had to pull in most of their spies, but Andromache, who drops by almost every day, keeps them well-informed.
“It is a mess,” she says one day, looking drained enough that Miryam wordlessly hands her a mug of tea and gently pushes her towards the nearest chair. “Millions of people on the move everywhere. All roads are crowded, and the soldiers are busy day and night trying to keep the violence between groups at bay. And we still haven’t got any idea where to put most of these people.”
For the most part, Miryam just tries not to think about it. She doesn’t want to imagine these millions of people who are forced to leave their homes and travel through the entire Continent into the unknown, doesn’t want to think that this was not the future she was hoping for when she dreamt of what a world after the war might look like. (We won, she reminds herself. That’s all that really counts. Any other problems, we will find a way to deal with.)
There are many things she is trying very hard not to think too much about. Her death, for example. Or the wall that will soon go up and the people who will have to die for it to happen. Or how the entire mess the world has been turned into is, in some way, because of her. During the days when she is too busy to spend much time thinking, it works for the most part. At night, it’s a different matter.
At the end of the day, she’s still one of the lucky ones, though. Unlike so many others, at least she isn’t losing her home. Of course, there are places she will miss, Erithia and Telique for one. But she never truly had a place she considered home, not really, so there is no home for her to lose now. Her home were always other people, and most of those will be coming with her.
It more difficult for Drakon. He is trying very hard to pretend that he is enthusiastic about moving to Cretea to set a good example for his people, but Miryam can tell that losing Erithia is tearing him apart. That is definitely her fault in a way, just as the fact that his right arm still hurts and none of the healers they talked to has been able to do anything about it is because of her. (Well, the blame for that last thing lies with Daín for the most part, but he had the good sense to stay away so far. Miryam is sure that will change soon enough, though, given what she knows about him.)
Drakon and her settle into a rhythm of sorts together. During the days, they pretend everything is fine. At nights, when they are alone in their tent, they allow themselves to mourn, to be scared and in pain. It probably isn’t ideal, but Miryam supposes they will have all the time in the world to deal with what they lost once everyone is safe and settled on Cretea.
----
Miryam is asleep in their tent, or at least pretending to be, but Drakon gave up on trying to sleep after having spent two hours tossing and turning on his mattress. His right arm still hurts, pain shooting up from the fingertips to the shoulder at any movement, which makes sleeping difficult.
Instead, he leaves the camp, nodding to the guards as he passes them, and sits down on a flat stone by the shore still within the wards Miryam set up around the camp. Tiny waves are lapping around his feet. Drakon picks up a handful of pebbles and starts tossing them into the water, sending ripples running over the surface.
He is just about to pick up a second hand of stones when a reflection appears in the water. He looks up and finds a dark-haired man with dark skin and blue robes floating above the water. So he did come, just as Miryam predicted.
“Ghost,” he says, only to remember a heartbeat later that the being in front of him is called Daín.
“Hello Drakon,” Ghost – no, Daín, remember it already – says quietly.
He doesn’t say anything after that, and Drakon only stares at him. Miryam told him about what happened after he resurrected her, but he still cannot quite believe that the man before her is the second-most important being in his religion. (Although given that his goddess apparently wants him dead, he might want to reconsider his religion as well. There are many things he needs to reconsider, it seems.)
“How… how are you doing?” Daín finally asks.
“Good,” Drakon says in a too-casual tone. “Thanks for asking. You might want to avoid Miryam for the time being, though. She’s furious with you.”
“Miryam, huh?” Daín asks. “And you?”
Drakon shrugs with his good shoulder. “My arm still hurts.” Understatement of the century. “I can barely hold a pen. How do you think I am feeling?”
Daín’s form dims slightly. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That’s what I actually came to tell you. I didn’t mean…” He breaks off, then starts again. “I regretted it the moment I did it.”
“Why did you do it, then?” Drakon asks.
That’s what has been bugging him ever since. Admittedly, he isn’t the best at judging people, but he still thought he could trust Ghost. They weren’t exactly friends, but he still thought they liked each other. That he was apparently so wrong stings.
“Because I couldn’t spend the rest of eternity stuck in that cave,” Daín says, voice rising slightly. “I just couldn’t.”
“But we had promised to get you out,” Drakon says. He doesn’t like how small his voice sounds. This would probably be easier if he was angry.
“And how would you have done that, with Miryam dead?” Daín shakes his head. “Any possible way to ever free me – be it in combination with resurrecting Miryam or just cutting me loose – involved you using the sword. I didn’t want this, I swear I didn’t, but it was my only chance.”
“Ah,” Drakon says, nodding slowly.
He hadn’t considered that. It makes sense, though, and it being the reason for why Daín did what he did is actually a relief. It means that Daín didn’t hate him, didn’t fake friendliness to manipulate him into freeing him from the beginning – Drakon didn’t misjudge him that badly, after all – he just wanted to get out of the cave. After eight thousand years of being trapped there alone, it is certainly something Drakon can sympathize with. He doesn’t exactly approve (his arm hurts too much for that), but he has a hard time blaming Daín.
“And you…” Daín continues, “you wanted to save Miryam so badly. Initially, I wasn’t going to help you, but you practically begged me and so – “
“And so you thought it was fine to lie to me?” Drakon asks, annoyed again. He understands why Daín didn’t give him the choice, but there’s really no reason for Daín to act like he was doing him a favour, or like he was justified in taking away his choice on the matter. “If you were so sure I would do it anyways, you could have just told me the truth.”
“I – “ Daín begins, but he is cut off by a voice from behind.
“Are you actually apologizing because you feel bad, or just because your little plan to free yourself didn’t go quite as planned and you need me to not hate you, Daín?”
Drakon turns around to Miryam who is leaning against a tree behind him, arms crossed so tightly she looks like she is moments away from accidentally snapping them.
“Can’t sleep?” Drakon asks by way of greeting and moves aside a bit on his stone to make space for her.
“As usual.” Miryam pushes off her tree and goes to sit next to him. Arms still crossed, she turns to glare at Daín. “Still waiting for your answer.”
Daín still seems to be processing what Miryam just said to him. He is hanging entirely still in the air, not even blinking. At Miryam’s words, he snaps out of it, though.
“I really do want to apologize,” he says. “I would have come even if I had been freed fully, instead of just being tied to you instead of the sword. And I would still want you to not hate me even if I was able to move more than a mile away from you at a time.”
Miryam snorts. “Yeah, it must be terribly inconvenient. All that work to get free, only to end up tied to one of the people you betrayed to get what you want.”
She is very good at only letting anger and coldness show right now, but Drakon knows that she was as hurt by Daín’s betrayal as he was, and that she isn’t pleased at all by having him bound to her now. Under different circumstances, Drakon thinks she might have decided to be more charitable about the entire situation and give Daín a second chance, but it seems she decided to be angry for both of them about Daín nearly getting him killed.
“Besides,” Miryam continues, “your apologies hardly undo what you did.”
Now, Drakon does feel the need to interject. He is almost beginning to feel bad for Daín.
“It was nice of him to explain, though,” Drakon says. “I can’t even blame him, honestly.”
Miryam twists around to face him, looking outraged. “What?” She asks. “You can’t be serious.”
Drakon shrugs. “He wanted a way out of that cave. I understand that. And if I had just let him out earlier instead of leaving him trapped there all alone just because I was scared to break tradition, none of this would have happened, so at least part of the blame for the entire situation lies with me.”
“Using the sword would still have killed you, though!” Miryam is clearly trying to keep her voice calm, but she doesn’t succeed entirely. “That was his plan from the beginning. How can you just be willing to overlook that?”
In spite of himself, Drakon finds himself smiling. It has been an ongoing discussion between the two of them in the last weeks which one of them is putting to little importance into their own wellbeing. Drakon feels that Miryam is brushing off the fact that she died and the related trauma too easily and also spends far too much time blaming herself and too little blaming others for everything that happened. In turn, Miryam thinks that Drakon should focus less on her and more on how he almost died and also lost his home.
In the end, they are probably both right. It seems that they are both painfully alike in that they never quite manage to place enough importance on their own lives.
“That wasn’t my plan at all,” Daín objects, making Drakon turn to face him again. “I didn’t want to hurt Drakon, that’s why I stopped suggesting he use the sword after a while!”
Miryam looks like she already has a reply ready for that, but Drakon cuts in before she gets the chance. “I think we aren’t going to solve this today,” he says. “What I’d like to know, though, is how you ended up in that cave. The true story. And how you know the Mo… Étain.”
That stops Miryam from saying whatever was just on her mind. She has been dying to know the details of Daín’s and Étaín’s past, and she evidently cares more about that than about telling Daín off yet again.
“Alright,” Daín says. He seems relieved at the chance to change the subject. “Then let’s start at the beginning. From my understanding, it is Fae belief that I am a Fae who was chosen as a consort by Étaín, who is the goddess who created this world.”
Drakon nods, internally bracing himself. He has a feeling he isn’t going to like whatever is coming next. He was never go-to-the-temple-daily religious, but he did care about it. The years of war didn’t exactly improve his relationship with his goddess, but he can’t shake the feeling that this will be worse still.
“The Fae, as usual, were wrong on both counts,” Daín says. “Étaín and I are both members of a species called Aín. We are born from the universe itself, made from the strings that make up its essence and have powers that are – although any Aín I can think of would consider the comparison an insult – similar to the powers witches exhibit. Although the more correct way to put it considering the history would be that the witches have powers that are a faint echo of ours.”
“Sounds pretty god-like to me,” Drakon mutters.
“That’s an interesting question, isn’t it?” Daín asks, perking up. “What is a god?” He seems genuinely excited at the question. “You see, there is no clear answer. If we define it as a ‘being of great power that is worshipped as a deity’, one might consider Miryam to be a goddess, provided she got herself some worshipers, and – “
“Can we get back to the subject at hand?” Miryam asks sharply. Drakon cannot tell if she is just annoyed with Daín in general, wants him to continue his story, or doesn’t like the goddess-comparison. Probably a mixture of all three.
Daín winces. “Sure. Anyways, long story short, Étaín grew tired of simply visiting worlds and watching life there as a spectator. She wanted… well, I suppose that no longer matters. She took over one of the worlds – this one – and began to shape it to her liking, using the Cauldron, a magical item she created, to anchor the spell she used. She never particularly cared about the world’s original inhabitants – the humans, as I am sure you already guessed – but there was a bunch of invaders from another world – the Fae – who were all too happy to worship her as a goddess when she had prepared this world so well for them. And Étaín quickly found that she enjoyed being worshipped as a goddess.”
Drakon groans and buries his face in his hands. He prepared himself for the worst, but this is worse than anything he considered possible. His ancestors were invaders who stole this world from the humans and then proceeded to enslave him, his goddess the one who helped them, and –
“And what was your role in all this?” Miryam asks.
“I was her best friend,” Daín says without looking at Miryam. “And then I was her lover and her husband.”
“So you helped her.” Miryam has her arms crossed again and seems to be growing increasingly angry as the conversation progresses.
“No. But I didn’t stop her either, and that’s almost as bad.” Daín sighs. “It took me far too long to realize that she was wrong, and to start acting against her. I only changed my mind when I met Rashida. But from then on, I worked with the humans against Étaín. Well, mostly against the Fae, but Étaín backed them, so it made little difference. I managed to keep it secret for centuries, but she found out eventually. When she did, we fought. And we hurt each other badly enough that we were both reduced to this.” He gestures at himself. “Powerless. Mere shades of what we once were, forced to remain stuck in this world forever without ever having the power to influence it again.”
Drakon curses softly and runs a hand through his hair. Wonderful. So everything he believes was one giant lie. Well, not everything, of course, but still quite a lot. A lot of really important things.
Miryam nods slowly. “Interesting story. We’ll think about it.”
“There’s more still,” Daín says. “So much you do not know yet.”
“Maybe some other day,” Miryam says. “I’d rather be alone with Drakon now, though.”
Daín nods. “Of course. And I truly am sorry.”
Miryam doesn’t react. Drakon might have offered some acknowledgement, but he is still chewing on what Daín just told him. After waiting another heartbeat, Daín disappears into thin air.
Drakon turns to Miryam. His first instinct is to apologize, to offer some kind of comment about what Daín just revealed about his ancestors, but Miryam likely wouldn’t care about that. She didn’t the first time around, and she doubts he will now.
Miryam is the one who breaks the silence. “I can’t believe you are actually considering to forgive him,” she says, but she is smiling as she shakes her head slightly.
Ah. So this is what they are talking about. “And you?” Drakon asks. “Are you just going to hate him forever? Might be inconvenient, given that he is tied to you. He’ll have to be around a lot.”
Miryam laughs. “Unfortunate, isn’t it? I guess I’ll have to put that on the list of things I will eventually have to deal with. Sometime after we’ve made sure our people get through the next year without starving, I imagine.”
Drakon smiles back at her. “At least it won’t be boring?” He offers.
“Oh, definitely,” Miryam says and takes his hand. “At the rate things are going, we’ll be lucky if we ever get so much as a single boring day in our lives.”
“There’s a lot to be done until we get there, though,” Drakon says and jumps to his feet. “Houses to build and fields to plant. A country to create from scratch.” He offers her a hand to help her up.
Miryam takes the offered hand and lets him pull her to her feet. “Sounds fun. We better find a way to get everyone to Cretea safely first, though.”
----
Moving over to Cretea turns out to be less of a challenge than Miryam initially anticipated. Lacking ships and unable to purchase new ones for secrecy reasons, they had to rely on magic to get them across the ocean and onto the island. The entire matter (disabling the wards to even allow people onto the island and then creating a spell that allows about a million people to transfer to the island) took Miryam four days and no less than six trips to Cretea.
The spell she ended up with is hardly a work of art – it’s a one-way bridge of sorts between their camp and Cretea, and only ten people can pass through at a time and the transfer over to Cretea takes about thirty seconds, meaning that they need to have the spell running for well over a month to get everyone over to the island – but it is functional. A month is long, yes, it seems like a small price to pay for a relatively safe and comfortable way of travelling. Especially compared to what the millions of people on the Continent who also lost their homes have to deal with.
On the last day before the first people will start leaving for Cretea, Andromache visits again. Drakon is busy explaining the logistics of everything to the group of soldiers that will pass through the wall first, and so it’s just the two of them sitting together in Miryam’s tent.
“So, how are you doing?” Andromache asks.
Miryam shrugs. “Getting used to everything.” She doesn’t say that the nightmares are bad again, or that she feels so terribly guilty for all these people having to leave their homes, or that she is terrified of what the future might hold.
Andromache is kind enough to leave it at that and not call attention to her lie. “You’re leaving with the first group tomorrow?” She asks instead.
“Yes.” Miryam nods to the necklace Andromache is still wearing around her neck. “That will still bring you to me whenever you want. I’m hoping to see you again even when we’ve left the Continent.”
“I’ll come visit,” Andromache says with a sad smile.
Neither of them says that Andromache will have a very limited amount of time where she is even able to visit. The evacuations will probably take a few months still, but once the Wall goes up, there will be no more visits. Because there will be no more Andromache.
It is a subject both of them have carefully avoided in the last weeks. The knowledge that the wall spell will require the lives of the six human queens to come into function is always there, standing between them, but Miryam hasn’t yet found the courage to address it and Andromache doesn’t seem interested in bringing it up either.
Miryam reaches into her jacket and pulls out a second necklace. “And it would be great if you could give this to Mor. Tell her that I’d like to see her again sometime.”
Andromache frowns at the necklace in Miryam’s hand, then reluctantly takes it. “Is this your way of making me talk to Mor again?”
“This is my way of making sure a friend of mine doesn’t spend the rest of her life blaming herself for my death, and of possibly clearing up our argument,” Miryam replies. “Although I do wish you two would talk things out.”
Andromache makes a face at Miryam. “I don’t.”
“It was just an argument, Andromache. And it was halfway my fault, anyways, for not warning Mor of what I was going to do. It’s really not worth breaking up over.”
And Miryam feels terrible that this argument led to two of her friends breaking up. She never wanted that to happen, and she doesn’t think Mor deserves it. What she has said hadn’t exactly been kind, but given what Miryam had done, it hadn’t been unwarranted, either. Miryam doesn’t regret her actions, but she also cannot blame anyone for hating her for them.
“Well, it’s not your relationship so you don’t get to decide that,” Andromache mutters. When Miryam just watches her in silence, she sighs. “Besides, I’m not breaking up with Mor over the argument the two of you had. I’m breaking up with her because of the general implications of her behaviour.”
“You don’t really think Mor is anything like Shey,” Miryam says.
“No. But I don’t think I can imagine a relationship with her either. Not anymore.” Andromache shrugs. “I mean, even if I wasn’t going to die in that spell, I think it would be better for things to end here. Especially with the wall soon going up, there is little point in investing in a relationship I am unsure about.”
“Either way, you should talk to her sometime,” Miryam says. “You won’t get many chances to clear things between you up anymore, and such things shouldn’t be put off too long.” She thinks of Jurian and all the things she never got the chance to say to him and adds, “Talking from experience.”
Andromache sighs and closes her hand around the necklace. “I’ll give it to Mor,” she says. “And I’ll see. About the conversation.”
Miryam nods. “That’s all I am asking.”
----
Almost two weeks after Miryam gave it to her, Andromache still carries the charmed necklace she was meant to give to Mor around with her. She intended to give it to Mor right away, but somehow, the opportunity never arose. With the entire Continent dissolved into complete chaos, refugee trails running from one side to the other, she simply didn’t have much time for private conversations. Besides, Mor wasn’t in Telique as much as before, meaning they rarely saw each other either way.
Alright. If Andromache is being entirely honest, she didn’t exactly put much effort into meeting her, either. She could easily have sent a letter and asked Mor to come visit, but the truth is that she simply doesn’t want to talk to her. Having a few weeks to think everything through helped calm her anger into a manageable extent – which was, of course, helped by the fact that Miryam and Drakon turned out to be alive and… well, not quite well, but well enough, she suppoes – but that still doesn’t mean she’s just going to forgive Mor. Not for her behaviour and not for the mindset behind it.
Talking to Mor now would mean having to deal with that, and she simply doesn’t have the energy to explain to her where her problem is. If Mor doesn’t figure it out herself, it’s hardly up to Andromache to help her.
She promised Miryam, though. And Miryam also has a point that some things ought to be settled in due time. So as the date when the wall is scheduled to go up (which will, as it happens, also mean Andromache’s death), she finally makes herself approach Mor after a meeting in Telique.
“We need to talk,” she says by way of greeting, making Mor spin around to her, the papers she was just studying forgotten. Before she can say anything else, Andromache adds, “Meet me in half an hour in our usual spot.”
With that, she turns around and stalks off.
Their usual spot is one of the palace’s private gardens, this one belonging traditionally to Angolere. Usually, it is visited by courtiers from her country, but with everyone so busy lately, it is entirely empty when Andromache arrives. She still walks around once to check, then sits down on a bench under a willow and waits.
Mor arrives five minutes later. She is clearly nervous, fiddling around with the sleeve of her dress as she walks. Andromache nods to the seat beside her and waits until Mor has put up a ward around them before pulling the necklace out of her pocket and holding it out to her.
The explanation she offers is quick and hard. She only offers the bare bones of the situation. Miryam, Drakon and the others are alive, they are hiding, Miryam wants Mor to visit. She does not mention Shey, or the fact that Miryam died. If Mor wants to know about these things, she will have to speak to Miryam about it.
Halfway through her explanations, Mor begins to cry. Andromache does not put an arm around her shoulders to comfort her. Part of her wants to, but that would send a signal to Mor she doesn’t want to send, and so she simply finishes her explanation and then waits for Mor to stop crying.
Maybe it was wrong of her to wait this long before giving the news to Mor. Letting her go on for weeks still thinking Miryam, Drakon and the others are dead was cruel, perhaps. Did she truly do it because she did not want to speak to Mor, or was it some sort of punishment? It bothers Andromache that she cannot tell and she vows to herself to do better. She once loved Mor dearly – for all that she made mistakes, she does not deserve cruelty, or punishment.
“So things between us…” Mor begins, hesitantly. “Things are fine again? We’re good.”
Andromache’s initial reaction is to snap at her, but she promised herself to be kind about this from now on, if only to make up for not delivering Miryam’s message earlier. This is, although Mor doesn’t yet know it, their final conversation. And Andromache wants a neat resolution to this, one that will leave her knowing she did everything right. She doesn’t want to be angry with Mor anymore. She just wants this settled and then she wants to move on.
“No,” she says as gently as she can manage. “I never blamed you for Miryam’s death, and so her not being dead changes nothing at all.” Mor looks completely crestfallen. She doesn’t say anything else, so it’s up to Andromache to say the final words. “Things between us are over, Mor.”
She doesn’t say that she is sorry. This conversation is already more for Mor’s sake than for hers, but there are limits to how far she will go. Maybe if Mor hadn’t thought that the sole problem was Miryam’s death, she might have been kinder.
Mor is crying again.
Andromache sighs. Still, she doesn’t reach out to comfort her. “With the wall soon going up, we wouldn’t have much of a future either way,” she says. “The Night Court and Angolere will be on different sides of the wall, with no way across.”
It isn’t the reason for why she is ending the relationship, but it might soften the blow for Mor. Let her think that the wall influenced her decision, that they might still have had a chance without it.
“I could stay in Angolere with you,” Mor sniffs.
“And leave your family behind forever? That’s not a choice I’d want you to make. Especially not over a relationship I am no longer sure about.”
She is far more than “no longer sure”, but there’s no need to say that. If not for the wall, if not for Andromache’s upcoming death, there might be some way to salvage their relationship, but Andromache doesn’t think she would be willing to make the effort. She certainly wouldn’t want Mor to make a choice as permanent as leaving her home behind for her now.
It does not make Mor cry any less, though. Andromache wishes she would stop crying long enough to think about her words and realize she is right. There’s no way Mor would want to leave her family and friends behind, not even for Andromache. But well, maybe she has a right to her tears and this is just Andromache being impatient with her. Looking at it objectively, it is probably her who is being too cold about this while Mor’s reaction is appropriate to the situation.
“Not all endings have to be bad,” Andromache offers. “I know it sometimes feels that way, but a relationship ending isn’t the end of the world. It just happens sometimes, and sometimes, it is even for the best. At times, two people are just right for each other for a time, and then they aren’t anymore, but that doesn’t mean the time before was bad or didn’t bring anything to both of them.”
That was very, very kind of her, Andromache thinks. Miryam will be satisfied. A bit cold, perhaps, but she just can’t help it. She is done with this relationship and, harsh though it may sound, done with Mor. She believes what she said – for a time, their relationship was good and she will always be grateful for that. But she sees no cause to maintain any kind of relationship with Mor after this.
“But I don’t want to go on without you,” Mor whispers.
Is it too cold if Andromache tells her that she will get over it in time? At least that’s the experience Andromache made in her two previous relationships. (Well, the first of these relationships barely lasted more than a month, but that didn’t make Andromache at eighteen feel less like she was dying when her then-boyfriend broke up with her.) On the other hand, that is probably not what Mor wants to hear right now, and given that this is her first relationship, it might be best if she makes these experiences on her own.
“You’ll manage,” she says. “I was the first person you loved – I doubt I’ll be the last.” For the sake of the good years they had, she makes herself smile. “I was happy to have met you, Morrigan. I wish you a long and happy life.” It is true, too.
Mor is crying harder again and doesn’t seem capable of saying anything, but that’s alright. Andromache would have appreciated some kind parting words from her, but she doesn’t need them. She is perfectly at peace with the way their relationship ended – this meeting’s intention was to give Mor a resolution, not her.
She gets up, inclines her head to Mor one last time, and walks out of the garden, leaving Mor alone on the bench.
----
On the Continent, the evacuations continue, the chaos showing no way of easing yet. By contrast, Prythian is almost eerily calm. The only court that is losing any territory is Spring, where everyone is busy moving hundreds and thousands of people, but up north in the Night Court, one might think there are no evacuations happening at all.
Mor enjoys the quiet. It offers a nice contrast to the storm raging inside her, and gives her all the time in the world to nurse her broken heart. After that terrible last conversation with Andromache, she fled to the cabin in the mountains where Rhysand is still recovering – or, lately, quietly seething at the fact that his father forbid him from going after Amarantha on his own – and together, they spend days in solitude.
They are a good fit these days, both of them equally miserable. For the most part, they do not talk at all. Rhysand wants to be left alone with his rage, and Mor doesn’t feel like talking about what happened with Andromache either. Well, she wouldn’t have felt like it even if Rhys had known about their relationship in the first place.
As far as she can tell, Rhys believes she is mourning Miryam and Drakon. About them, they talk once or twice, but Mor usually blocks off the conversation. She loves Rhys, but she isn’t prepared to talk about Miryam yet. Not when Miryam and their last argument are so closely tied to everything that is now wrong with her life.
Some days, she sits outside in the cold and twists the necklace in her hands. She hasn’t found the courage to actually use it yet. If Miryam wanted Mor to get it, that likely means she wants to talk to her, but what would they even talk about?
Nothing Mor might say would change anything about the facts. It won’t undo what Miryam did in the Black Land, or the argument they had about it. Nor will it erase the fact that Mor promised to protect Miryam, and then she left, and then Miryam almost died. It won’t make Andromache want her back, either.
Mor is sitting outside with the necklace again one day when Rhys sits down next to her. “What is the business with that necklace?” He asks. “A gift from a lover who left you?”
“No,” Mor chokes out. And then, before she can think any better of it, she is telling him the truth. Not everything – not a word about Andromache – but she tells him what the necklace is, what it does. She wants to mention her argument with Miryam, but every time she tries to repeat what happened, her voice abandons her.
After she is done, Rhys is silent for a while. Finally, he says, “I’m not sure if you should visit them. It would be a risk.”
“How so?” Mor asks, perking up.
“Well, if Miryam and Drakon wish for people to think they are dead, you visiting them would only put that in danger, wouldn’t it? What if father notices that you are gone and starts asking where you were?”
Mor flinches. She didn’t consider that option yet, but he is right. It would be irresponsible to visit Miryam. Even if Miryam asked for it, Mor shouldn’t… At least not right now. Maybe in a few months, once everything has settled down and she isn’t watched this closely by her uncle anymore. Maybe by then, things will have calmed down all on their own, too. Sometimes, time is the best medicine.
Yes, Mor thinks. This is right. Soon enough, things will have calmed down and it will have stopped hurting and then, she will be able to talk to Miryam again, too. It will all be alright. It just takes a little time.
----
The next two months are so busy that the time seems to move at twice the normal speed. That it takes over a month to move everyone to Cretea seemed inconvenient at first, but having people appear one after the other on Cretea actually turns out to be a blessing. That way, the first people to arrive can already start setting up a camp, scout the terrain and look for food. All of this is be painfully necessary because Cretea, densely forested and full of unknown plants and animals as it is, it definitely not an island you just want to dump a million of people onto without preparation.
By the time the last of their people arrives and Miryam closes her bridge spell, they have not one but actually five separate camps, all within less than an hour of each other, to avoid people being too densely crowded in one area and polluting the water. They also have some makeshift huts erected and catalogued most of the common fauna and flora as well as mapped the nearby parts of the island. The cartographers and scouts especially have done great work, but everyone on Cretea did their part.
Loathe as Miryam is to admit it, though, everything would have been a whole lot more difficult if not for Daín’s help. Within a day of the first people arriving on Cretea, they realized that the island is completely different from the rest of the Continent. More than half of the local plants and animals are unknown even to their experts, and it is impossible to tell which ones are dangerous. (For example, who would have thought that the tiny elephants living in the jungle can spit poison if they feel threatened?)
Daín, having apparently been the one to create Cretea as a wedding gift to Étaín, knows all the local specialities, though, and he is willing to help, which forces Miryam to put her lingering anger with him aside for the moment. To his credit, he doesn’t tie his help to any demands, doesn’t even ask Miryam and Drakon to forgive him for what he did in exchange. Drakon still seems to forgive him, even though his arm still hasn’t gotten better. Miryam doesn’t feel inclined to do the same yet.
Busy as they all are with trying to settle into Cretea and not be killed by the wildlife, she barely notices how the time passes. It’s like she blinked and suddenly, more than two months have passed since that battle on the ocean floor. On the Continent, the evacuations are drawing to a close. Not everyone is settled in yet, of course, and on the Fae side of the Continent, it is already obvious that there will be struggles over borders still to come, but everyone has reached their side of the Continent by now. Which means the wall will go up soon.
The realization hits Miryam like a punch to the chest when Andromache calmly tells her that they will cast the wall spell in less than a week. Before she even had the chance to truly comprehend what is about to happen, it’s Andromache’s last visit and they are forced to say goodbye to each other.
Andromache seems entirely calm about the situation, which just makes it more difficult for Miryam. Words rarely fail her, but now, they do. Andromache is one of her closest friends – the idea of losing her like this is unbearable. It almost feels like Miryam is killing her herself.
Andromache seems to guess her line of thought, though, because as she hugs Miryam goodbye, she whispers into her ear, “I know you like to blame yourself for things that aren’t your fault, and that you won’t listen to me when I tell you that you hold no blame for a decision I made freely. I still want you to not blame yourself for this, though. Consider it my last wish if you want.”
Miryam isn’t sure if that is a wish she will be able to honour, but she still makes herself nod. After Andromache has disappeared, she spends a long time staring at the space where she was just standing, trying not to think about anything at all. Then, she turns around and walks over to the nearest human camp.
It is perched in a valley, and Miryam finds a flat stone on a nearby hill where she sits down. From up here, she can see the entire camp, all the people moving round down there, going about their daily activities and simply living. Children are running through the camp, chasing each other in some made-up game. Fires are burning everywhere, adults preparing dinner over them.
Miryam smiles softly. Maybe in a moment, she will go down there and join the hustle, maybe find herself some dinner and join the groups of people sitting around in front of the tents. For the moment, though, she is content to simply watch.
She loves moments like this. They remind her that even if many things didn’t go the way she planned, at the end of the day, she got the most important thing she wanted, the only one that really mattered. At the end of the day, they won and they are free, and that’s all that really counts.
She just wishes Jurian was here to see this. He would have loved it as much as she does and it is so beyond cruel that he never got to see that the victory he sacrificed so much for.
“I miss you,” she whispers.
She doesn’t believe that anyone is there to listen, doesn’t even believe in an afterlife, but some things are better said out loud. For some words, it is easier to be able to pretend that there is someone listening.
“I wonder what you would make of everything if you were here.” She smiles, shaking her head slightly. “You would probably be against the wall far less than I am. You would think I’m stupid to dislike it so much, I know. We might even argue over it. I would give anything to be able to argue with you over that one more time. But mostly I just… I really wish you were here to see this. We won. And it kills me that you never got to hear about that.”
The only answer is the wind rustling in the leaves. What wouldn’t Miryam give for one chance, just once more chance to talk to Jurian. How is it that she got a second chance at life but he didn’t?
She tries to comfort herself with the knowledge that Jurian would be happy for her. If he was able to talk to her, he would probably tell her off for feeling guilty that she lives while he is gone. He would want her to live a happy life, the same thing she would have wanted for him had their positions been reversed.
“We won,” Miryam repeats once more, and then, she gets up and walks down to the camp.
----
The sunlight pierces the darkness without warning. Had Jurian been able to, he would have closed his eye against the sudden light, but as it is, he can only wait until his eye adjusts to the brightness and he can see again. Slowly, Amarantha’s face comes into focus in front of him.
“Have you missed me?” She asks.
Even if Jurian had been able to reply, he wouldn’t have. He didn’t miss Amarantha, of course, but after so long trapped alone in the dark, even the face he hates the most in the entire world is a welcome sight. He doesn’t know how long it has been since Amarantha shoved his eye into that casket, furious over the Loyalists’ defeat and clearly trying to sour the victory for Jurian, only that it felt like an eternity trapped alone in the dark, moments blurring together in a never-ending stream of terribleness.
“It’s been almost three months,” Amarantha says as if reading his thoughts and picks the ring with his eye on it up.
“Such a long time!” She seems in a good mood today, and Jurian is immediately suspicious. Her good news tend to end badly for him. “There is so much you missed. Do you want me to tell you?”
Yes. No. Jurian doesn’t know. If he still had a body, he is sure his heart would be racing. Any news that has Amarantha in such a good mood can only be terrible indeed, especially when it must be bad enough to counter her anger over the Alliance winning the war.
“Well, one thing you certainly didn’t miss was your allies looking for you,” Amarantha says casually. “Because they didn’t. They seem entirely content to leave you to rot. If you ask me, they are probably glad to be rid of you. Not that I can blame them.”
Once, Jurian might have objected – internally, at least – but now, he cannot. He has run out of possible explanations for why none of his friends came to save him yet, especially with the war now over for months. They should have come. But they didn’t, and the only possible reason is that they do not care.
“No, there was something else I wanted to tell you about,” Amarantha says. “I even considered interrupting your little time-out for it, but I thought you could use some time on your own to contemplate how little use your side winning this war was for you in the end.”
Desperately, Jurian tries to cling onto the knowledge that this war was still worth it. If they won, that must mean slavery was abolished. Millions of people must have been freed. It was worth it.
It is difficult to truly feel that way, though, when he cannot see the effects. All that’s there for him is pain and suffering, and none of his supposed friends seem to be willing to help him. It’s like they won and then forgot about him, like they had no use for him anymore and so they threw him away.
“Well, now you hear a few months too late,” Amarantha continues. She smiles at him. It is not a pleasant smile, showing far too many teeth. “Your little mortal lover – sorry, former lover – is dead.”
Jurian’s world goes entirely still. It’s a lie, is his first thought. It has to be a lie. A poor one at that, given that he knows the war is already over. Miryam cannot be dead.
“That lesser faery she betrayed you with is dead as well, although I doubt you are sad about that,” Amarantha continues. “As well as a whole bunch of other people, mortals and faeries, mostly. Ravenia sent soldiers after them, and they somehow managed to completely wipe each other out. Everyone dead, on both sides.” Her smile broadens further. “I find it beyond amusing, honestly. Although I would be really curious to know what you think about it.”
What he thinks about it? He thinks, of course, that it cannot be true. And if it was… No, he cannot bear to think about that.
“She betrayed you, after all,” Amarantha continues. “You did everything for her, and she couldn’t even be bothered to try and save you. Maybe she was too busy with that faerie prince she picked over you. Maybe she was glad to have you out of the way.”
Jurian wishes he could block out her words. He doesn’t want to hear what she is saying, but he can’t stop it. The words are like poison, all the deadlier because there is at least a spark of truth in them.
Amarantha shrugs. “If I were you, I would probably hate her. I’d be glad that she is dead.”
Jurian isn’t. He isn’t. He could never hate Miryam, could never want her dead.
But she must have hated him and wanted him dead if she never came for him. He tries to tell himself that she simply might not have had the time, that she might have come for him after she freed her people had she survived to do so, but it isn’t a good enough excuse. Had it been Miryam being tortured, he would have dropped anything to try and save her. Nothing, absolutely nothing could have been more important.
And she left him for Drakon, Drakon who wouldn’t even try to save her when she was in danger. Jurian told her to stay away from him, but she didn’t listen, and what did it get her? It’s her own damn fault if she died.
No, no, he doesn’t mean that. What is he thinking?
Amarantha smiles like he knows exactly what is going on in his head. “You are glad,” she says, and Jurian spends the entire rest of the day forcing himself to relive all the good memories he has of Miryam to prove to himself, to Amarantha, to everyone, how very much not glad he is.
----
Given that Andromache is going to die in less than half a day, she is surprisingly calm. She spent the last days settling all the needs to be settled. She visited her mother and all her remaining family, met up with any close friends and wrote a few letters that are meant to be opened only after her death. Most of the meetings went well. Her mother didn’t want to let her go at the end, hugging her again and again which just made it harder for Andromache to leave, but at the end of the day, she feels that all of the meetings were a success.
Her people are not yet entirely settled in, but her successor will see to that. Everyone will be provided for, and Andromache is sure that Ania is a good choice as a successor, someone who will govern fairly and wisely for the years to come. Everything is settled. She isn’t leaving any loose ends behind.
With only five hours to spare before she wants to meet the other queens, though, she suddenly finds herself with nothing left to do. Everything is settled, but Andromache still feels like she needs act, to somehow do one last thing even if she doesn’t know what. Her hours are so limited now, she can’t help the feeling that she ought to be using them to their fullest extent.
Yanis eventually finds her wandering through the palace aimlessly. He doesn’t say a word, just takes her by the arm and leads her to one of the gardens. They sit down amongst two rose bushes. With autumn approaching, the flowers are raining petals on the pathway. With a start, Andromache realizes that she will never see roses in full bloom again.
She swallows against the sudden tightness in her throat. In all the last months, she avoided thinking about all that dying entails. She thought about the fact that she has to die plenty, of course, but she never really allowed herself to contemplate what that means. And there were a million different things to consider, her people and the evacuations and the final council meetings keeping her so busy that she simply didn’t have time to think about it.
Now she does, though, and she doesn’t like it at all. Like most people in the world, Andromache doesn’t want to die. There are so many things she still wants to do. She would like to see Angolere rebuilt south of the wall, and see her people thrive. Should it ever become possible, she would like children of her own, and a partner to grow old with should she find someone she can imagine spending her life with. She once thought it might be Mor, but it wasn’t, and she would have liked to have the time to find someone else.
Maybe she should have asked Miryam what dying feels like. But no, that would just have made Miryam feel worse about the entire situation. Besides, she doubts bleeding out from a spear to the chest feels anything like being consumed by a spell.
She supposes at least she get to see another sunrise, as they chose dawn as the time to cast their spell. Hopefully, the morning won’t be cloudy so she will get to see the sun one last time.
Slowly, Yanis takes her hand. His rough, callused fingers squeeze hers.
“Remember our first mission, when we were rooky soldiers together?” He asks.
“When we were sent out to chase that band or faeries that had attacked the village?” Andromache asks, a smile tugging at her lips. “And you idiot thought you could get into a fistfight with one of these lion-wolf-mixture things and win?”
“It knocked my sword out of my hand!” Yanis objects. “I was panicking.”
“Lucky for you I still had both my sword and my senses, or that thing would have taken your head off.”
Yanis grins, but his smile soon fades. “Anni, I – “
A messenger bursts into the garden, nearly stumbling over his feet in his haste to bow to Andromache. “Your Majesty,” he says, holding out a letter to her. “From Queen Nakia. She said to deliver this to you.”
Frowning, Andromache takes the letter. She sees no reason why Nakia would write her a letter now, not when they are both going to die together in a few hours. She breaks the seal and unfolds the parchment.
Dear Andromache,
If all goes according to the plan, this letter will be delivered to you by midnight, which means that by then, it will be too late for you to change anything about any of it. I apologize for lying to you, but I didn’t think you would agree with my plan, and I had to do what I thought best for our people. I hope that you will be able to forgive my ploys.
For all that I believe we have all chosen worthy successors, it would be irresponsible to leave our people without any experienced leaders in a time like this. We couldn’t all die, and I trust that you and the others who remain will keep our people safe and lead them into a bright future.
It has been my honour to work with you in the last nine years.
Your friend,
Nakia
----
Queen Nakia of Scythia considers herself a practical woman. As such, it became clear to her quickly that robbing the humans of their entire leadership in one go would be a very, very bad idea. Admittedly, it was her bad idea, and at the time where she suggested it, it might not have been so bad at all, but now, there is simply no way sacrificing all six queens in one go is the right thing to do. Not when it would bring instability to their people in a situation as precarious as this one.
Fortunately, Nakia listened closely when Miryam initially explained the spell to them all. Back then, she said that the spell would work not only for the people it was tied to, but also for any close relatives. Some reading in books stolen from abandoned Fae libraries confirmed quickly enough that any close relatives to the other queens would work just as well as sacrifices.
It was not difficult to find people willing to step in for the other queens. Andromache’s mother. Sehline’s older brother. Mije’s uncle. Kjani’s grandmother. Only for Leline, there was no one since her entire family had died two years ago during an attack, so she is in the forest where they met to cast the spell along with the others.
Some part of Nakia feels bad for going behind the other queens’ backs like this. They will not be grateful to her for sparing them at the expense of their loved ones, but she is not doing it for their sakes. No, glad as she is that Andromache and the others will get to live, she is doing this solely for her country.
As for herself… Well, she had plenty of relatives of her own she might have asked, but she didn’t. A child should not die for its mother, nor a grandchild for its grandmother, and while Elmira is still young and inexperienced, Andromache and the others will easily able to support her through the initial years queen, just as Nakia herself did for so many others.
She had a long life, and a good one. For forty years, she ruled her country, kept her people safe. She watched her children and grandchildren grow up. Now, she gets to die knowing that her people will be forever free from slavery, never forced to fear the Fae again.
It is good, she thinks as she sketches symbols she does not understand into the earth around her, following the instructions Miryam left closely. The moon is standing high above in the sky.
Nakia finishes the last symbol and turns to face the others. “Shall we?” She asks.
They all look back at her. Some are crying, others firm. They all nod, though.
Nakia turns to look up at the moon. Slowly, she begins to recite the spell, keeping her gaze fixed on the moon above. It is the last thing she sees.
----
Miryam isn’t sleeping. She is lying in bed fully clothed, head resting on Drakon’s shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. When she senses the magical tremor running through the air, she sits up bolt upright.
“What happened?” Drakon asks, sitting up as well.
Miryam shakes her head, gasping. She can still feel the magic thick in the air, pulsing like a second heartbeat. It is not a pleasant sensation. And there, miles and miles away, she can sense something else. A barrier running through the world, cleaving it in two.
“It’s too early,” she whispers, stretching out her senses to investigate that new barrier. It is too far away for her to get a proper read, though. “Andromache said dawn.”
“The wall?” Drakon asks, turning around to her.
“Yes,” Miryam says slowly. She swings her legs over the bed’s edge and walks towards the door to the tiny hut they are sleeping in. She looks outside over the sleeping camp, as if to assure herself that they are still there. “The wall is in place now.”
----
A/N: So, this is not the last chapter after all. There will still be an epilogue coming, set 10 years after the wall went up, to wrap up some loose strings and also just... generally end on a positive note. That is obviously hard to do in the direct aftermath of basically 7+ years of extremely traumatizing events, but I do want to give off a HOPEFUL expression of the future, so an epilogue it is.
Tags: @croissantcitysucks @femtopulsed @aileywrites
#NOT the last chapter after all. we'll have an epilogue still#but the last part of the main story#very excited for everyone's reactions#the epilogue will be happier i promise#before the wall#miryam#jurian#drakon
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Yesyesyes please give us the theory. I would love to see it
First, disclaimer:
THIS IS BASED AROUND THE CHARACTERS THEY PLAY ON THE SMP, I AM NOT INSINUATING THAT WILBUR/DREAM/TECHNO/SCHLATT ARE BAD PEOPLE IRL, I’M AN ENGLISH ADVANCED STUDENT YOUR HONOURS
Okay so it’s less of a theory based off of streams/videos, and more of a theory based around literature and giving narratives satisfying endings/story arcs. HOWEVER: I will give my opinion as to why it’s Tommy at the end of my theory that is based off of the streams.
this is long I’m sorry. From here on out, if I refer to someone it is based off of their CHARACTER IN THE SMP, NOT THEIR REAL LIFE COUNTERPART
Tommy’s entire arc, and even character on the smp, has been jerked around by Wilbur since when Wilbur joined. Sure: Tommy willingly joined these things but he was also used the entire time. As either the face of the revolution or as a child solider. The relative peace that occurred afterwards was a nice time but it’s doubtful at best if Character Wilbur ever listened to him before or during it. Tommy is a child, and was during the whole war, so of course Wilbur wouldn’t have taken political advice from him, but Wilbur also gave him the illusion of political power by making him his right hand man.
But Wilbur also kept Tommy’s discs. The actual copies of his discs. He manipulated the teen by holding those above him, even if Tommy didn’t know it at the time. Wilbur needed Tommy on his side, as Tubbo says: Tommy is a valuable asset. He won the revolution and led battles.
Lets jump forward to after Tommy finds out about his discs. I control this theory I can chose the time skips
So, we’re all in agreement that Tommy knows he’s being used.
Tubbo straight up tells him after all “Think about it from a president’s POV, You’re a valuable asset to have.”. Tommy would know that Techno and Wilbur were just using him to get resources and other such important items. Sure, the whole ‘cool older brothers coming to help’ is a great trope, but think about it realistically.
Every time Tommy had tried to do something, it was shot down. The looking for peace, the decorating Pogtopia, the asking to get Tubbo and Nikki out of Manburg, it was all shot down by Wilbur. He trusts Tubbo/Nikki? Those two are clearly traitors, Tommy’s being naive. He doesn’t want to blow up Manburg? Cowardice, naive beliefs of peace.
And on top of these things, Schlatt has offered to have Tommy back before.
If you watch through the part of Wilbur’s video TommyInnit Ruins Our Rebellion (Dream SMP) at the timestamp 6.52, Schaltt says: “Tommy, you know I’m hiring, right? I’m all for extravagant displays of wealth.”
Tommy repsonds with “Really?”, to which Schlatt offers to let him put diamond blocks around Manburg. There’s an argument, and Quackity says that he senses a dispute of power.
Later in the exact same episode/stream, Tommy gets trapped under some pistons and left for dead. Even Philza says that he deserves it.
Now, I’m not saying that, a salty Tommy leaving Pogtopia and meeting with Schaltt could have happened in the universe of Dream SMP, however imagine a sixteen year old, trying to decorate their home, gets yelled at for a bit, gaslit and left for dead, their best friend tries to drown them, and then tell me if that sixteen year old would have gone to the man that offered them the ability to do what they want in peace?
Now, of course, Tommy would have had plenty of chances to betray Wilbur from then, but he could have always played the long game. Telling Schlatt that Tubbo is a spy, telling the man that the city is rigged. Being a spy would always have been an option, but it would have been dangerous for him. Quackity or Tubbo or Dream could have found out and snitched, so:
Tommy and Schlatt could wait until the battle to reveal that Tommy is on Schlatt’s side, giving his character arc the push it needed to to make Character Tommy less of a puppet, and more of a person.
Character Tommy is highly reactionary, without much agency. He’s a passive character - he is just shuffled along, and although he can make small plot lines himself his character bends to reacting to whatever Schlatt/Dream/Techno/Wilbur does. This isn’t to say that Tommy isn’t an active character - he starts plenty of battles himself, but when it comes to big activities/battles/wars, Character Tommy bends to whatever the universe/his superiors want him to do.
By betraying Pogtopia, character Tommy gets to become a fully active character, changing sides would make him the villain, yes. BUT the fucking arc of ‘you are my brothers and i will fight for you’ to ‘i should have been treated better, you used me’ is pog.
Also there’s a chance he could betray them to protect them from the chance of Schlatt wining and killing them all. To protect them from a worse fate. If he were to overhear Schlatt planning to kill them, then joins him to protect them, but never gets the chance to explain why he betrayed them all? Poggers angst guys.
I’m an angst writer sue me
BASED OFF THE STREAMS THEORY:
It’s process of elimination baby.
Techno: Not a traitor because he wants the chaos and hates the government. Yes, he could join for the
Nikki: she has opposed him from the begining of his reign, why would she trade sides now?
Tubbo: HE WAS EXECUTED DUMBASSES AND SPIED FOR SCHLATT FROM THE BEGINING
Fundy: He was for Schlatt for a bit, but it’s clear that he stopped supporting Schlatt because of Tubbo’s execution.
Quackity: did you guys hear their fight? Quackity hates Schlatt. They’re divorced
Wilbur: You can’t betray yourself.
#tommyinnit#wilbur soot#tubbo#jschlatt#dream#dreamsmp#quackity#niachu#technoblade#philza#fundy#manburg#pogtopia#l'manburg#theory#long#Anonymous
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📚for the fanfic plot ask thing!📚
Okay so- plot of one (of many) fanfic I haven't written (because to be honest, I don't have the skill to pull this off yet) but often daydream about:
I would love to write a This-Is-How-You-Loose-The-Time-War-inspired spy-vs-spy KisaIta fic. It would feature baby ANBU Itachi trying desperately to find a solution to the tensions brewing between his family and the village (massacre was still a few years off when he first joined ANBU, I believe). This eventually leads to him hunting down all reports/intelligence related to the night of the Kyuubi Attack and finding a few small scraps of information that hint at the existence of the Masked Man.
(He is a pre-teen, so he doesn't really *get* that finding a different scapegoat/"revealing the truth of what happened that night" probably isn't going to fix issues that are rooted in three generations of Village Policy and History, because he may be a genius at killing people but his education has not emphasized critical thinking)
He eventually tracks what little (extremely scant) evidence he has to Kiri, where he comes to believe the Masked Man is operating.
He gets himself sent on endless missions to the Land of Water in pursuit of his pet project, gaining himself a reputation in the process. There are no shortage of missions- the Land of Water is rapidly devolving into three different simultaneous civil wars, and resentment over the last Great Shinobi War lingers enough that Kiri and Konoha will likely never be friends in Itachi's lifetime.
(This is gonna get really long, so here's a read more)
At the same time, recently-made-ANBU Kisame has been mostly assigned to intelligence-related missions, as in canon. However, over the course of his first few months worth of missions, he comes to suspect that there's a leak in ANBU, and he sets about trying to find it and silence it. He slowly develops a reputation for ruthlessness even among ANBU, a cut above the normal Kiri ruthlessness, as he secretly works to get his fingers into every hidden nook, cranny, and conspiracy until he finds the disloyal one.
(And maybe he's projecting his issues/self-hatred related to killing other Kiri ninha just. a little bit. on this mysterious leaker. How dare this person sell out the Village? How dare they give out the information that gets other Kiri shinobi killed? It's easier to hate the faceless traitor than it is to hate himself. And at least he still *has* values. He killed the Few to protect the Whole.)
Over time, as the two develop their reputations, their respective villages start pitting them against each other in the field. Konoha has an unofficial policy of trying to off Seven Swordsmen hopefuls before they can get powerful enough to actually get a blade, and Kirigakure knows that the unstoppable Konoha operative is a Sharingan-user, and Obito-controlling-the-Mizukage is always down to take down his estranged family members.
Danzo is less eager to have Itachi take care of the Uchiha for good, not out of any particular maneuvering on Itachi's part, but because he also remembers the last Great Shinobi War, and how brutal Kirigakure was during it. He sees their ongoing civil strife and fears that one faction will eventually WIN and turn their attention on their neighbors. Itachi has made himself the best operative at getting into and out of Kirigakure- if he wants to interfere from the shadows and keep the civil strife going, he needs to keep Itachi in the field. (Don't worry, he finds other ways to be awful/keep the pressure on).
Itachi and Kisame are a good match-up. Itachi might be a natural genius with a fancy kekkei-genkai, but Kisame has way more experience than him. Also, unlike laser-focused Itachi, Kisame is actually keyed into the intelligence world, so he always has more information than Itachi.
They clash over and over again over several years, and slowly learn more and more about each other. They mature into seasoned ANBU operatives, have epiphanies about themselves and their villages. And slowly come to like each other.
Itachi has his sexual awakening when he sees Kisame rise up out of an ocean of blood, shirtless, effortlessly hoisting a struggling Jonin one-handed over his shoulder, big tooth-filled grin on his face.
They infiltrate each others' villages and insert themselves into each others' missions in disguise. Itachi genjutsus a Kiri team to think he's one of their teammates, whom Kisame secretly has orders to eliminate. He feels a surge of relief when the teammate he'd known since his Academy days dissolves into a murder of crows moments before his sword pierces their chest- his teammate is still dead, but at least this time they were killed by an enemy, not Kisame himself.
Kisame knows his mysterious counterpart is a Sharingan-user, so he infiltrates the Uchiha compound to tease out what the situation is with the clan in Konoha right now (and maybe see if he can figure out who his counterpart is).
While he's in the village, tracking kekkei-genkai users, he discovers Root and exposes it. This is both a huge win for Kiri Intelligence and put Danzo in a tricky situation, since he supposedly disbanded it.
Eventually Kisame figures out that some of the leaked information is making its way to Danzo, so he goes to kill Danzo and try and figure out who he's getting his information from. This is right around when Danzo's started making threatening noises towards the Uchiha again, since Root was just rediscovered (by foreign intelligence, no less!) and he needs to redirect attention off himself and onto the Uchiha. He's even considering the total elimination plan again- Itachi's work in the Land of Water is valuable, but not more valuable than consolidating control over the Village.
(Or perhaps he doesn't need Itachi for this- Shisui is also a talented ANBU operative, after all. Sasuke was originally supposed to be the spare Uchiha left alive in the village, so they wouldn't loose the precious Sharingan, but it's becoming increasingly clear that while he's good, he's not as good as Itachi. Why keep the subpar tool and throw away the masterwork?)
Itachi develops a humorous problem where he's leading three different fake lives, and is covering up with by genjutsu-wammying anyone who might notice anything suspicious in the timing of his long absences. He's infiltrated Mei's rebellion as a spy who needs to disappear a lot to go do spy stuff, while at the same time pretending to be an official in the Water Daimyo's court, while also posing as a regular Kiri Jounin.
His Regular Kiri Jounin act is so solid, they give him a genin team. One of the genin is related to the civilian official he's impersonating in the Daimyo's court, and she constantly comes to see him and tell him all about her sensei. On of the other genin on the team is related to a the Mizukage, and Mei orders him to kidnap that genin away from their sensei, which is also him, so that he can be used as leverage. The third genin turns out to be a secret kekkei-genkai user, and actually wants to be kidnapped away to the rebellion so that they won't have to live in fear of being discovered, and also because they hate the current government. This genin who wants to be kidnapped is constantly fighting with the genin he's actually supposed to kidnap, and whines that "Sensei, you're not supposed to play favorites! Why do they get to get kidnapped but I don't? They don't even want to get kidnapped!"
(Itachi the Regular Kiri Jounin, who is Unquestionably Loyal and Totally Not a Radical Who Would Join the Rebellion, ends up dating Kisame, whose identity as an ANBU is technically a secret. This relationship runs on willful ignorance.)
Kisame and Itachi would end up taking each others' places at some point to take down each others' mentors- Kisame walks right into Danzo's office looking like Itachi, and no one blinks when they sense the genjutsu because Itachi is always casting genjutsus. No one even realizes anything's wrong until Danzo's dead and "Itachi" is making his getaway.
Itachi would be approached by Fuguki at some point with an offer to sell information, and immediately realizes that this is Kisame's leak. He argues to Danzo's replacement that the value of Kiri's ANBU turning on each other is greater than the value of having someone willing to sell the occasional nugget of info. He has to work not to laugh behind his ANBU mask, because Konoha nin just don't get how down Kiri nin are to turn on each other at the drop of a hat. "Turning Kiri ANBU against each other" please, as if the Seven Swordsmen don't regularly train their own murderers. As if one of the fastest ways to gain cache isn't by offing your superiors. It's like Konoha Intelligence knows nothing.
He wins his case, and reveals what he knows to Kisame, who goes and kills Fuguki like he did in canon. Obito reveals himself, same as in canon, and Kisame immediately knows how he's going to pay Itachi back. He's still disillusioned with the Shinobi world like in canon, but he had his initial Pit of Despair moment years ago, when he figured out there was a leak in ANBU and that truly there were lies everywhere. He's learned how to compartmentalize since then.
He pretends to join Obito so that he can feed Itachi information. Together they take down Obito, revealing his crimes to both Kiri and Konoha.
It should be over then- Kisame found the leak, Itachi cleared his family's name- but it's been around a decade at this point. Both of them have played so many roles as spies that they don't know how to go back to who they were before.
Itachi's almost spent more of his life in the Land of Water than in the Land of Fire at this point, and he certainly knows more people there than in the Land of Fire. He's passed his twentieth birthday by now, and he's no longer a pre-teen with no concept of the world and his place in it outside of Konoha Propaganda/Brainwashing. He doesn't know how to relate to Sasuke's fierce, uncomplicated desire to grow up to be the best Shinobi, because how can he think that's a good thing at this point?
Meanwhile, Kisame still kind of hoped that killing the liars/traitors who had sent so many Kiri-nin to their deaths would make him feel better about all the comrade-killing, but it doesn't. He can't seem to reconcile his absolute loyalty to the Village and its ideals with his disgust at everything they do.
For a brief while, he and Itachi join Mei's rebellion for realsies (Itachi still as one of his undercover roles) and help her topple the Bloody Mist government and install a new one, but it's not enough. What she's proposing is still a Ninja Village. It's better than what there was before, but that's not really a ringing endorsement.
Itachi's the first one to decide to walk away. He lets Kisame "kill" him on a random mission in a way that doesn't lend itself to a body being returned or retrieved, then settles down and builds himself a life as a secret kekkei-genkai child who grew up hidden like Mei, but never learned to be a proper shinobi. He spends his days at a quiet house outside Kiri proper gardening and making jam by the side of a lake Kisame made during one of his fights with Itachi. There's a ghost town near the lake, emptied during the Civil War years. He develops a reputation as a ghost.
Kisame walks away not long after. He can't really leave, of course- unlike Itachi, he has no desire to settle down in a foreign country, and too many people know him here- but he does step away from active duty. He "kills" Itachi The Regular Kiri Jounin-Sensei and takes his genin team for himself. The kids know something's up because their Sensei still visits them sometimes, though he half-heartedly tries to convince them he's a ghost. They help spread the story about the ghost living by the lake anyway, just in case anyone starts investigating.
Kisame quietly moves out of his shitty Kiri apartment to join Itachi by the lake. Some of the seven swordsmen do come investigating then, but when they discover that Kisame's just moving in with his squeeze who he really sexily fake-murdered, they decide not to do anything about it. Besides, they like Itachi and don't want to have to write up a report about how dangerous it is to Kiri security that he lounges around a lake all day, drawing birds and cooking elaborate meals in an attempt to blend the comfort food of his youth with the produce and spices native to Kiri that are honestly more familiar to him at this point than the ones that grow in the Land of Fire.
Itachi sometimes goes and visits Sasuke and Shisui back in Konoha, but mostly he hangs out in his new home and lives out his soft, domestic, non-violent dreams with Kisame and his cute little genin. It's a sappy ending.
#naruto#fanfiction#kisaita#kisame#itachi#This is totally different from my other Kisaita Spy AU because in that one only Itachi is the spy
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Fic title meme : pulvis et umbra sumus (We Are Dust And Shadows)
On every single document, including the ones that show what actually happened to Howard and Maria Stark, Tony Stark is listed as dead among them.
He is not.
But in not calling in the accident on the abandoned road, Tony managed to find someone else to take his place and escaped.
Tony Stark is dead. A whole family funeral and everything. Obadiah pretends to cry. Tony is at the funeral with shitty dye in his hair and sunglasses that he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. Ha.
The funeral is closed casket. All their faces are rumored to be impossible to fix with make-up.
He makes new documents. Anthony Jarvis, from Boston. Airtight background. Likes puzzles. Scored damn high on the SAT, but not the perfect score.
(Killed him to answer some of those questions wrong, seriously.)
Anthony Jarvis goes to MIT and requests a single room. He gets one for one semester, and then the room next to his burns and destroys his as well. So he gets moved to Jim Rhodes’.
Jim becomes Rhodey, and he is the first friend of Anthony Jarvis, and nicknames him Tony.
He grins at that.
There are plenty of times that Tony wants to tell him. The thing about secrets is that they need to be shared. No one really wants a secret, nor do they want to keep it. But he keeps his mouth shut and asks if he wants to go for Thai food.
“This is the third time this week.”
“Not my fault it’s good! I’ll pay...”
“Sign me up.”
Tony and Rhodey gets Thai food. It’s good.
Rhodey lets him in on a secret that Tony had actually known about since his room assignment.
(You remember that guy’s room that caught on fire? Yeah, he swore that his microwave hadn’t been on, and nothing had been plugged in. He was right. But Tony needed an accident.)
In other circumstances, Rhodey would have ignored the offer that he had. He had had his heart set on Air Force. But there was something about the man who talked to him.
“It’s a place called Strategic-Homeland-something I can’t remember,” Rhodey says. “Point is, they’re a big deal and kind of shady, but not in the government shady kind of way. The only thing I can find out about them is that they’re an international company who need engineers, pilots, and basically anyone like you and me. I don’t know how I feel about it.”
Tony nods.
“You want me in on this?”
“I mean, you did tell me a couple of weeks ago that you weren’t sure what you wanted to do after graduation.”
(It was two weeks, three days, and fourteen hours ago. Not like he was counting.)
“...thanks. I’ll check it out with you.”
Anthony Jarvis shows up in a nice suit, stupid sunglasses, and impresses the higher-ups by diagnosing a problem with the engine that others had previously marked as “impossible.”
He’s hired on the spot, same as Rhodey.
Tony Jarvis gets his own keycard, finds an apartment in New York that’s within at least biking distance, and gets started on inventing some cute little toys for the spies in Research and Development.
He brings the laser-lipstick to life, poison-drop-earrings, spyglasses that actually work and have HD, and briefcases that use mirroring technology to change color.
“How did you do this?” Rhodey asks, eyes wide. “I swear this is unreal.”
“Aw,” Tony says. “You sap. I got some inspiration from some old comic book ads. I think I’m gonna try a ring decoder next, what do you think?”
“Almost makes me want to go on missions instead of flying them.”
Tony Jarvis is known for working odd yet long hours. He comes up with results. And he keeps his head down and minds his own business.
This is all to find out exactly who killed his parents. As much as his and Howard’s relationship was...interesting, he still wanted to know.
His desire to know the truth leads to somewhere he hadn’t thought was possible: Hydra.
His hands freeze as he looks at the paper file with thick, black lines all over. The information there was sparse. Howard, Maria, and Anthony Stark all died. It was ruled:
And there’s nothing there.
It wasn’t an accident. Sure he knew that, but there was something far more sinister at play. Why wasn’t it an accident?
-
He gets Alexander Pierce in his apartment with a man in the corner. His arm gleams in what little light from the lamps outside give off.
“Why are you searching for the Stark files?” He asks.
“Why didn’t you just schedule a meeting? I’m available tomorrow at three,” Tony jokes. “Who’s your friend here?”
“Someone you wouldn’t want to shake hands with,” Pierce answers. “You need to stop looking into this before you find yourself in a situation you don’t want to be in.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Accidents will happen,” Pierce says. He gets up from the table, to the counter. Gets out a glass. And makes himself water. He smiles as he looks to the man in the corner. “Do you want any water, Winter Soldier?”
Winter Soldier remains impassive.
Tony stills.
“So, the legends are true. And Hydra is still around.”
“And if you aren’t careful, you won’t be,” Pierce says. “Don’t bring any of this up. Or this won’t be the last time you see Winter Soldier. I know your moves, Jarvis. Don’t think you can surprise me.”
They exit the apartment. Tony realizes that Pierce took his glass.
And he laughs.
Because this? Not according to plan, but god he’s gonna have fun with it.
It starts with telling Rhodey who he actually is.
It does not go as planned.
“So let me get this straight. I’ve known you for years and you just. Never told me?” Rhodey asks. “Why not?”
“To be completely fair, no one knows besides a man in Wisconsin, and he’s from Wisconsin,” Tony says. “Also I was drunk. Drunk me is a terrible person who would sell me for a buffalo nickel.”
“I’m still mad, even if that’s funny,” Rhodey says, trying not to smile. “So. Why tell me now? I’m assuming you need something.”
“I would like your help,” Tony says. “It is not required but I am toppling a secret organization living in SHIELD and I think if I get your help, I will most likely not get fired by the end of this. Fury likes you, he hates me.”
“False, he mildly tolerates you. You’ll be fine. Probably. Who else should we get to help?”
Tony had originally planned for no one.
But then there was Pepper Potts.
She had been deemed by the media as “crazy” for accusing Obadiah Stane, longtime-CEO of Stark Industries, as ordering a hit out on the Stark family.
She had been booted from the company--anticipated--and then Hydra had ordered a hit on her.
Slightly unexpected.
Point is, Rhodey brings her into the apartment and tells Tony casually that the grocery store had run out of his usual hummus brand, was the generic okay?
“That’s like asking if I’m okay with blue pens,” Tony curses. “Also, is that Pepper Potts? Why is she here? Did you run into her at the grocery store?”
“No, as I was coming back. Did you know that she has a hit out on her? Fun times.”
“Oh my god, will someone explain to me what’s going on here?!” Pepper seethes. “I was just trying to get my yogurt without anyone taking a picture of me and some random fucking guy had a knife thrown at me and then this guy took me to your house!”
She then rants for ten minutes about the “questionable design choices going on in this establishment, who honestly thinks shot glasses are a decoration?!”
“Are you done?” Tony asks. “Because if you want to help with a conspiracy plot, you need to be done.”
She is.
Pepper does not get a job with SHIELD. In fact, she mainly just decides to take care of the redecoration in Tony’s apartment.
“You will be paying me for this.”
“Why would I do that? You’re using my money to buy everything. You’re living here rent free for now.”
“Because I’m helping you make better life choices. I also want new shoes.”
What Pepper does is provide very valuable access to Stark Industries: she knows the ins and outs, what employees do and don’t do, and also is very helpful in telling Tony what he needs to do when he takes the company over.
“Who said I was going to take it over?”
“Me,” Pepper says. “Also because I reviewed every single old document and the company was specified to go to next-of-kin. You are. And you’re not dead.”
“My death certificate is literally framed,” Tony says, pointing to his graduation photo that Rhodey took. He had swapped out his official diploma with it as a joke. No one had seen it. He thought it was hilarious.
“Yeah, but they can do DNA testing,” Pepper says. “This is like the twenty-first century Anastasia except this time they don’t find you with metal detectors!”
“I don’t like that you know that story as well as you do,” Rhodey says. “But I’ll leave you a credit card for furniture and groceries. If you get rid of my drinks in the fridge I’m literally never forgiving you.”
“Noted, and I don’t need forgiveness,” Pepper says. “But they’ll stay there.”
So begins the plot.
Pierce doesn’t know three things, which is a lot of things not to know:
1.) Tony Jarvis is not Tony Jarvis.
2.) Rhodey actually likes Tony and most of the time him saying that he would “kill Tony in a variety of ways, starting with sporks and moving forward...” is mostly (mostly) a joke.
3.) Pepper Potts resides in their apartment and is having fun telling Tony she bought new silverware.
“Why did you buy new silverware! It was fine!”
“I recognized all of these forks and knives from restaurants. Why did you steal them from restaurants?”
“They can replace them!”
“Don’t. Anyways now your spoons match and you don’t have the shitty ones from different places. Also I painted the bathroom.”
“My landlord is gonna kill me.”
“I made her cookies and discovered that she likes going to concerts. You’ll be fine.”
(Pepper is a goddess. You can’t convince them otherwise.)
Pierce doesn’t know any of this, but he still holds a key piece of blackmail: Tony Jarvis shouldn’t know about Hydra, and he’ll do anything to make sure that he doesn’t lose his job.
Tony has been recording their conversations for weeks.
(Pierce thinks he doesn’t design things to get around the available technology. Pathetic.)
He also has bugged Pierce as well as his house, and figures out that Winter Soldier is going to be on assignment within the DC area in an effort to kill some higher-up on the foodchain that was SHIELD.
Well.
Tony has always wanted to go and see the cherry blossoms a little more up close.
Pepper, of course, doesn’t like that they left his boots on.
“This couch is new and red,” she says. “Take off his boots!”
“He is unconscious and probably won’t be in the next fifteen minutes,” Rhodey says. “We are not touching him and possibly shortening that fifteen minutes.”
Winter Soldier wakes up to three faces staring at him.
“Mission failed?” he asks, voice robotic.
“Nope, you just got a new one,” says the man on the right. He is wearing a t-shirt. Winter Soldier thinks that in this situation, a t-shirt is not the best option.
(Of course, he’s not supposed to think. But they don’t have to know that.”
“Can you take your shoes off?” says the woman in the middle. “Please. You’re getting germs on the couch.”
He’s confused.
“Who am I killing?”
“No one, yet,” says the man on the left. “Do you know who you are?”
“Winter Soldier.”
“No, like a name? I’m assuming you’ve had a name at some point.”
“Someone has called me Mr. Freeze before.”
The man on the left snorts. Man on the right taps his arm lightly.
“Well, um, okay then. How do you feel about the name...aw shit. I can’t think of a name for you when your mask is on. Can you take the mask off?”
He takes it off. It’s nicer to breathe.
The man in the t-shirt pauses.
“Okay. So your name is Bucky Barnes. Do you know that name?”
Something clicked. But he doesn’t know what.
“Sounds...familiar.”
“Cool! So that’s your name now, do me a favor and don’t google it. I’m Tony, this is Rhodey, and this is Pepper. If you don’t take your shoes off, you’re going to be scared of her.”
Newly-named-Bucky highly doubts that he will be scared of Pepper because she is built like a twig and she is wearing high heels.
(He is wrong about ten minutes later when she forcibly throws a fork at him.)
“Why am I here?” he asks. “Should I be checking back in with Handler Pierce?”
“No,” comes the consensus from everyone else in the room.
“Technically, he thinks you went rogue and went back to Russia. He’s organizing a team to go get you. We hired an actor to play you. It’s been entertaining. He got some plums. Do you like plums?”
“Why is that relevant?”
“It’s vapid and not interesting at all, Tony loves questions like that,” Rhodey says. “Now come on. We need to get you actual shirts. Also some body wash.”
Bucky Barnes learns how to be a person. He stares at himself in the mirror for an hour and smiles slightly when Pepper calls him “vain” and pushes him aside to grab her hairbrush.
He then learns that Hydra is trying to overtake SHIELD and they have a slight window with Pierce out.
This involves two things:
1.) Tony Stark coming back from the dead.
2.) SHIELD panicking that they didn’t know this secret and taking another look at the paperwork, in which case Hydra will be found out.
These are both easier than anticipated. Tony can act like a showman better than anyone, and has been carefully growing a goatee that is eerily reminiscent of his late father’s. Of course he’s had to switch it up.
The media is going crazy. SHIELD as well. They’re scrambling to find paperwork that proves that it happened, and they find that the “accident” was no accident. That Howard hadn’t been working for the “enemy” at the time.
The enemy was in the building, and they had blended in seamlessly.
This all happens on a Wednesday, by the way. Pepper has it marked on the calendar and everything. Rhodey made his coffee.
Bucky is busy slamming people into drywall and listening for any word from Rhodey, who is also slamming people into drywall.
“You know, you’d think we’d get something like a suit of armor for this,” Rhodey pants out, slamming another guy out of his way.
Bucky nods.
“Best I can offer is a grenade.”
“Where in the fuck did you get a grenade?!”
“Supply closet. Second floor. What, you didn’t check?”
“No sorry must’ve missed it--of course I didn’t fucking check the second floor closet!” Rhodey yells.
Bucky says he’s stressed. He should calm himself.
Rhodey chucks a particularly nasty Hydra agent out a window.
(Bucky thinks Rhodey is probably the coolest person he’ll ever meet.)
Tony is fashionably late to the take-down of the century. He’s already foiled a lot of plans, and taken a key-card for Project Insight to work.
He waltzes in and nearly gets hit by a mug.
“So, how’s the party going?” he yells over to Pepper. Pepper is still in her heels. She looks like a goddess still, as usual. It is a Wednesday, after all.
“As fine as it can be,” Pepper says. “We’ve met some resistance. With Pierce gone there’s little infrastructure. You got his plane delayed, correct?”
“Even better. Got it sent to London. Motherfucker is gonna be there for a while,” Tony says. “Also may or may not have said that he was a threat. SHIELD branch there will investigate, find out some questionable things in his file that he will swear up and down were never there.”
“Good,” Pepper says. She launches a stapler at someone’s head. “Do you think we’ll have time to pick up takeout for dinner?”
“Depends on whether or not Deputy Director Hill is Hydra.”
They see Maria Hill pass by in a blur, yelling as she jumps onto a man and sends him crashing down over a railing.
“Lovely, she isn’t!” Pepper cheers. “By the way, I was thinking about redoing our kitchen.”
“‘Our’ kitchen?” Tony says, ducking a bullet and drawing out his personal lipstick-laser, firing it with expert precision. “I told you the living situation was temporary.”
“Oh please, you have an extra room.”
“Which was an office!” Tony tells her.
“Like you can’t have your office at Stark Industries,” Pepper says. “I expect to hear how the reveal went over dinner. Also, please hire me back. I don’t wanna be your interior decorator for forever.”
“Neither do I, you like modern art. Disgusting.”
And so the fighting resumes.
It is done by five-thirty-two, with an official surrender from Pierce.
“Thank god, I already ordered Chinese and they said it’d be here at six,” Rhodey says.
They all sit on the red couch.
Shoes on.
Tony tips four hundred percent.
-
“So what are we doing tomorrow?” Rhodey asks.
“I am not moving for six hours,” Bucky answers. “Also maybe getting a library card.”
“This is the first thing you want out of the icebox? A library card?” Tony asks, laughing.
Pepper laughs.
“I have errands to run. You can come with me and we’ll swing by.”
“What are the errands?”
“Getting a kitchen mixer and also making sure that my plates match my napkins.”
“A travesty if it doesn’t happen,” Rhodey deadpans. “Pass the lo mein, Tony. You’re hogging it.”
“I had to fight on a Wednesday and run,” Tony says. “Today isn’t cardio day.”
“Literally hate it when you speak,” Rhodey says. “Absolutely abhor your language.”
They go to bed, although it’s more of laying on the floor.
Sure, Tony will have to deal with retaking a business that he knows a bit less about and Pepper will have to be trained (again) and also fight against being made CEO (but she won’t fight much). Rhodey will get a new job with SI because it’s not like Tony will let him work at SHIELD (Rhodey tries, Tony will get him fired at some point). Bucky just...he needs to get a bit more than a library card.
But that’s for tomorrow.
#BUCKLE IN BOYS WE GOT A LONGGGGGG ONE#bucky barnes#tony stark#rhodey#pepper potts#yes this took all day yes i didn't proofread it#but i love this so much#lovelyirony writes
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BUMMER SUMMER || peter parker; ch. two
read chapter one here
masterlist
an; welcome back y’all. thank you to all who have read so far, even tho it’s only chapter two. i’d love to hear your feedback! enjoy!
**italics indicates flashback**
warnings; mentions of battle wounds (i.e. blood/scars/etc), future smut, mature language, fluff, angst, both peter and oc are 18+!!
word count; 2.2k+
edie's pov
so that's spiderman? seems like a fun guy, i think as i walk through the dark alleyways so i don’t draw unwanted attention to myself. it's late and i'm navigating my way home, still thinking about my run-in with the red and blue clad boy. it's easy to tell he's young by the sound of his voice, leading me to believe he’s twenty at most. that doesn't bother me of course, as i too am considered young for a crime-fighting vigilante.
i turn the last corner before reaching my street and sigh with relief at the sight of my apartment building. the light in my window is off, aiding in the illusion that i'm asleep so my mom doesn't come in while i'm away on my semi-nightly adventures. just before i can touch the brick stones of my building as i pass by, a mechanical swoosh comes down and picks me up off the ground. i let out a small yelp and quickly find myself placed on the roof.
"hey, wolfie." mr. stark says as he walks out of his iron man suit. i let out the breath i was holding and turn around to face him. i offer him a small smile and take my hood down.
"mr. stark, hello, sir."
"school's almost out, right?" before i can answer, he keeps talking, "good. i'm gonna need your help with something."
i wipe away the beads of sweat running down my forehead as i bend down to pick up my throwing knives from the concrete ground. i steady myself and focus on the tattered piece of cardboard nailed to the wall that is my makeshift target. with a small grunt, i fling one towards the center of the red dot, hitting it dead on. i continue this activity until i run out of things to throw and my arms feel like jelly. i lost count of how many times i'd hit the center of the target in a row.
stepping back with a satisfied smirk, i collect my knives, shoving them back into their rightful place in my bag or around my waist and turn on my heel to head home. i manage to take two steps before a voice stops me in my tracks.
"hey, don't walk away now, kid, the next one would have been fifty." my eyes widen at the familiar voice that often appears on my living room television. i slowly move to face the man and gulp, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, not being able to say a word.
"come on, one more. show me what you got." says tony stark, with a loose smile on his face.
without a word, i force my trembling hands to grab my favorite knife from my right boot and brace myself for a throw. my breathing is shaky as i raise my right arm and inhale along with it. i can feel the sweat running down my back as i close my eyes for a moment. don't embarrass yourself, e, i think to myself. with that i snap my eyes open and silently chuck the knife towards the target.
i missed.
"oh for fuck's sake." i groan into my hands before i remember who i'm with and freeze. i keep my head in my hands, making sure to cover my face, only gathering enough courage to peek at tony stark through my fingers.
"well, that's awkward, i won't lie," he says, looking uncomfortable, "but i think i saw what i needed to see beforehand. i'm tony stark, or iron man if you wanna get fancy." he reaches a hand out in my direction.
"edie wolfe, hi." i reply with a defeated and lame handshake. to save both of us from looming silence, he pulls at my hoodie before continuing on, "okay, ms. wolfe." he pauses to inspect my attire, "what is this? leggings? and a hoodie? kid, if you're gonna be throwing knives, you gotta expect people to throw them back at you. this isn't going to cut it." he motions to the thin fabric covering my arms and chest.
i laugh at his words, "oh hey i see what you did there."
not catching on to his own pun, he moves on again, "what? actually never mind, we have a lot of talking to do, wolfie."
ever since that night, he took me under his wing- and a week later i got a package with a brand new suit in it. one that would protect me a whole lot more than what i was working with before.
"earth to wolfie, beep beep boop," mr. stark says as he pokes me in the forehead. i swat his hand away and give him my full attention. he continues on, "so you're in? a summer at the compound, being scary and keeping bad guys away?"
i raise an eyebrow at him, "what makes you think my family will be okay with that?" i ask. mr. stark simply rolls his eyes, "i already talked to your father, need i show you the proof?" i shake my head and he nods with satisfaction.
"okay, kid. see you in a few days." he says, preparing to get back into his suit, but before he can fly away i stop him, a question looming over my head, "am i doing this alone?"
"of course not. i wouldn't leave you alon- well actually i can't leave him alone so that's why you're gonna be there," he explains with a shake of his head.
"and who exactly is this person?" i ask with my arms crossed.
"how about one friendly neighborhood spiderman!" he yells and takes off before i can say anything back.
-
finally, the last day of school was upon us. it seems that the ending of every school year is bittersweet, and to be honest it hasn't quite hit me yet. senior year was way lamer than everyone played it off to be. you're told that you're officially ‘top dog', but let's be real- no real credit is given until you've graduated. but hey, here's to making it this far.
i'm sitting at my usual lunch table, surrounded by peter, ned, and mj. we pass jokes around the group and take in every moment we have left of our time together, yanno, since peter is leaving. but so am i. which is something i still have to share with everyone.
"uh, hey, guys. can i be a debby downer for a moment?" i ask, clearing my throat and disturbing the light mood of the afternoon. the table quiets down and all eyes are on me. "so you know how peter is leaving this summer?" i ruffle peter's hair in an attempt to not make that statement so sad.
"yeah, edie, we know." mj says with an eye roll as she picks at her cold french fries. i roll my eyes back at her and mock her voice. i can't help but notice peter's guilty face sitting next to me, little does he know i am going to make it a whole lot more weird up in here.
i take in a big breath and hold it to up the anticipation, "well it looks like i'll be gone too."
ned drops his chicken wrap and shakes his head furiously, "nuh uh, nope. no way. sorry, e, i can't allow that to happen," he says with a stern voice. peter chooses this moment to negatively highlight my new confession, "edie, how dare you! someone needs to be here to look after the kids."
i lower my head in shame, god this was so hard to do. faking a playful smile, i try to make light of the situation, "hey, c'mon, we all know mj is the mom friend of the group."
mj shakes her head violently and protests against my statement, "absolutely not. i veto that with all of my being, ned is the mom." she insists as she points to the pouting boy. we all laugh at that before falling into an uncomfortable silence. i glance in peter's direction and try to smile at him. doing this to him was the hardest, i tell him everything and knowing full well that i can't tell anyone about my stay at the compound, it just hurts my heart. we won't be able to communicate all summer.
"my mom signed me up to be a camp counselor...at, uh, a self-defense camp." i panic at the last second, realizing i never thought about what kind of camp i would fictitiously be a part of. the whole table bursts out into laughter.
through short breaths and a hearty laugh, ned pokes fun at me, "edie? teaching children how to kick someone's ass? look at you, you're like a soft pillowy little marshmallow." i stick my tongue out at him and cross my arms.
"hey, i wouldn't shut down the idea too fast, remember e's dad is like, an actual fbi agent. i'm sure he's taught her some stuff," peter chimes in, coming to my rescue. i nod along and hum a 'mhm', snickering inside at how much they don't know.
-
once i'm home, i pack my suitcase with all the things i think one would need to stay at a high tech superhero compound. i grab all of my knives and shove them into a utility pack, along with my suit.
my parents know where i'm going, and lucky for me they’re okay with it. well, at least my dad is.
my father, sam wolfe, works for a hidden branch of the fbi that trains government spies and the occasional assassin. thus being the reason i grew to be so good at combat. he would take me onto the roof of our building and have me shoot at targets and hit punching bags. we would practice for hours at a time, his booming voice critiquing my every move and decision as i worked. i've never been comfortable with a gun, so i stuck with knives and made that my craft.
i haven't seen my dad in a few months now. to 'protect' me and my family, we weren't allowed to know where my dad was going or why he had to leave in the first place. once mr. stark came into my life, he and my father became close, putting his trust in mr. stark to watch out for me whenever he was gone.
my mother on the other hand, she hates everything about it. she’s afraid of the world and all the things that lurk behind closed doors. when dad isn't around, we aren't allowed to talk about anything related to knives or fighting or tony stark. and for my nine-year-old brother's sake, i oblige.
pulling my bag onto my shoulder and lugging my suitcase through the hall, i meet my mother and brother in the living room. she meets my eyes with her cloudy ones and closes the distance between us with a strong hug. i chuckle at her before wrapping my arms around her plump frame.
"mom, it's okay-" i start, before she cuts me off, "shhh, edie. let me have this moment."
i shut up and continue to embrace my mom. i know this is hard for her, but she needs to understand that this is an amazing opportunity for me. i'm being put in charge of the avengers compound for the entire summer. i wish i could share this excitement with my dad, but i know he's happy for me, wherever he may be.
"edie, promise me you'll come home if you can't handle it. no one is going to judge you for that. you're only eighteen. i can't believe your father is letting you do this." my mother rambles as she pulls away from me. i smile at her and just nod my head.
my little brother looks over in our direction with a shy smile on his face. i ruffle his hair and pull him to me for a quick hug, "take care of mom for me, booger." i whisper into his ear. he gives me a simple nod and backs away.
my phone buzzes in my pocket. i pull it out to see a message from mr. stark.
'beep beep, i'm here'
i sigh and look up at my mom one last time, "that's my ride." she lets a single tear stroll down her cheek before wiping it away and shooing me out the door.
once out of the apartment, i lug my suitcase down the three flights of stairs and out onto the sidewalk. mr. stark is pulled up to the curb in his fancy black car. he rolls down the passenger side window and yells at me through it, "time to party, wolfie."
i stroll to the car and pull the back door open to throw my stuff down. then i hop into the front seat and look at mr. stark, "you know, you could have come in."
"yeah, well we all know your mother doesn't like me very much. i don't wanna poke the bear," he says as he pulls his sunglasses over his eyes and revs the engine, "let's get you to your new home for the next three months, shall we?"
|| taglist; @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines
#iron man#chaos walking#spiderman homecoming#tom holland chaos walking#avengers#holland#tom holland#tom holland cherry#tom holland imagine#peter parker fluff#peter parker x oc#peter parker angst#peter parker smut#tom holland fluff#tom holland smut#tom holland angst#spiderman#spiderman far from home#spiderman x oc#bummer summer#tony stark#avengers endgame#peter parker imagine#original character#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#original story#read me#tommo hollandy
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Compass for team chaotic good
Compass: who’s the moral compass? in general: what are your OCs’ morality like? do they have high morals, or not? are their morals self imposed, or do they base their morals on religion/family/influence of others?
Well, considering that they’re called Team Chaotic Good, that should give you a pretty solid idea of what they’re about! But not everyone is ACTUALLY chaotic good. Some aren’t even Chaotic. Or Good, in fact! Funnily enough, about half of them are Lawful, actually. So here’s the breakdown. Team Chaotic Good has quite a few members, so I’ll put it under a cut, as it’s a bit long.
Kíhyué: The team leader. Is Actually Chaotic Good. Has a very strong moral core, and while he doesn’t expect everyone he associates with to actually BE good-aligned, he damn well expects them all to act like it. The society he was raised in was largely Lawful/Neutral, but his outlook ended up completely different as a result of the mistreatment he suffered at the hands of strict laws and “neutral” stances that did more harm than good. “No such thing as an innocent bystander. You stand by and do nothing, you do not want to get involved, fine. But do not call yourself innocent. Do not say you did no harm when you could have done good instead.”
Inimicia: Sort of like his second in command, she’s Exalted Lawful Good. Not something you’d expect from the infamous Assassin Queen, or a half-vampire, or someone whose name literally means “the enemy,” but she’s had a long hard crawl up from being born chaotic evil and like hell she’s going to give up the good fight now. Her morals are 100% self-imposed, and she goes out of her way to find others in need of similar impositions and help them learn how to use objectively evil powers for good. Her order of assassins is ironically mostly good aligned, and she works very hard to keep it that way, sending them on missions to slay demons and devils and other undeniable evils who’ve managed to blend into society. This often leads to them looking like the bad guys, of course... nobility who keep their sinister deeds well hidden suddenly drop dead murdered in their own homes, and no one understands why. No one, except the victims of their cruelty whose pleas Inimicia’s spies overhear. She’s especially wary of religion, and any religion that claims to serve “the greater good.” A deity, of course, has the power to decide just what they think the greater good actually is, and cannot be trusted not to be acting solely in their own self-interest, or to actually do good deeds at all. “Go ahead. Paint me as your enemy. The world can believe you all it wants to, I’ll be the villain if you make me. I’ll still know the truth... and so will you.”
Xadrea Shadowborn: Is Exalted Chaotic Good out of sheer spite and determination. Unlike Kíhyué, she absolutely expects Good out of everyone, even if she has to drag them kicking and screaming into behaving like decent human beings. Arguably this is the result of outside influence, though it’s... complicated. Essentially, she and her companions in a different universe had been given these artifacts that would tempt them into corruption in exchange for power, ultimately transforming them into an avatar of one of the Archdukes of Hell if they succumbed to enough temptations to lose their souls. Xadrea watched this happen to SEVEN of her party members. She outright refused to fall, ended up hosting the deity Heironeous instead of an archfiend, and saved the universe, all thanks to pure fucking spite and refusing to do as she was told by the voice in her head. Her sense of justice and honour don’t always conform to what one would expect of a literal divine embodiment of Valor, but she argues that’s what makes her best for the job, since she absolutely will not get caught up over doing the lawful thing as opposed to the right thing... something she and Kíhyué both agree is what makes their approach to fighting evil the best one. Her morals, ultimately, come from the shitty little slothful voice in the back of her mind that wants her to lie down and accept defeat, protect herself and forget the world... “Oh, you wish I’d quit, don’t you? Well it’s not gonna happen. NEVER gonna happen. You want apathy from me? Get bent, devil. I’m going to CARE. I am going to care SO much, ON PURPOSE, about EVERYTHING but you, and you can’t fucking stop me.”
Anaziah the Kind: A paladin of freedom, Anaziah is another actual Chaotic Good member. If her former epithet of “the Wrathful” isn’t enough of an indication, she certainly didn’t used to have a moral compass, and it’s a testament to her strength of will that she’s managed to change and become a better person. She’s still pretty new at this whole “being a good person” thing, and looks to Faendys and the others for guidance, very grateful to all of them for giving her a chance instead of judging the Drow book by its cover. “I was raised to hate everything that wasn’t like us. To hate, to subjugate, to destroy. But... I was never really like ‘us,’ was I? All they ever really taught me was how to hate myself. The surface world isn’t like that. I’m free here. I’m allowed to love instead. It’s not easy, but, doesn’t everyone deserve the chance to try?”
Faendys: Neutral Good, Faendys is the very calm one, who’s never trying to make any sort of deep commentary on anything on purpose, but often ends up making unsettlingly wise comments anyway. They rarely have to say much, and rarely do say much when things get serious, but their small voice piping up with something profound is always what gets the rest of them to shut up and act reasonably when their opposing alignments cause conflict. Even if it’s just a simple “That’s... not okay,” Faendys trusts their gut when it comes to tough ethical dilemmas, and the others generally listen to them. “I know it sounds hard. And it’s probably going to make us a lot of enemies. Even if we get away with it. But... we haven’t been afraid of that before, have we? They need our help, and we know it. What makes this time any different?”
Arekos Aidoneus: A dread necromancer who’s also the party healer, Arekos is Lawful Neutral, and the only thing preventing him from being Good is the fact that many of the spells he casts are technically evil (see: raising armies of undead). However, he’s very careful to only use these spells for good purposes, and also has a few spells from the Book of Exalted Deeds on his list... his moral fibre is rather complex. His approach to the subject is based very strongly on his culture and religion: keep the balance in all things, use your dark powers only to serve the light, and defend the cause of good for the cause of evil needs no help to prosper. This creed is how he stays lawful despite actively working towards arguably chaotic goals, because dismantling the government brick by brick is, in fact, something he is required by his social and religious obligations to do, provided that the government in question is evil. Kíhyué and Xadrea absolutely hate it when he brings this up. “The world would love to prove that we cannot be good, that we cannot be kind, that we cannot be anything but evil and should not exist. I should very much like to prove them all wrong.”
Amanthos Panideios: Also Lawful Neutral, with a heavy emphasis on Lawful, this librarian monk knows full well that he does not really fit in here... so he follows the others’ lead more often than not, managing to stay lawful despite the chaotic things they get up to the same way Arekos does. He also just... avoids getting directly involved with anything that would involve breaking the law in ways he can’t rationalise. Amanthos is not Moral, he is Ethical, and this is both a good thing (he’s able to rationalise many of the chaotic things he engages with as actually complying with the code of ethics he is meant to follow) and a bad thing (not everything has an easy answer, and it’s very easy for him to potentially fall into Lawful Evil behaviour if someone else isn’t around to check his work). “Oh dear... we didn’t cover this in any of my moral philosophy lectures... Arekos? Arekos, do you know the answer to this one?”
Psamion: The bard, the sea captain, the Chaotic Neutral (but good-leaning!) one. He did his time as the hero, and quite frankly he hated every second of it, it traumatised him thoroughly, and he never wants to speak of it again. He’s perfectly content to continue doing his best to help people, in his own way, but absolutely does not want to let himself get dragged into another high-stakes demon hunt to the Hells and back, because he barely came out of the last one alive. That being said, Kíhyué is his closest friend in the entire universe, and he would do anything for him... so, naturally, when Kíhyué says “We have to save the world again,” Psamion just sighs, packs his things, and says “Can’t it just stay saved for once?” as he follows Kíhyué out the door. “Look, I don’t much care for this whole ‘getting involved’ thing, but if Kíhyué says it’s time to put up a fight, and he needs my help, you’d best believe I’m pulling out my knives and hucking a flaming bottle wherever he points me to. The world’s in trouble, and damn it all, by some miracle I’m STILL one of the idiots who lives in it, thanks to him... If I’m gonna fight, it may as well be a good fight.”
Eomer: Is a gryphon. Kíhyué raised him from a hatchling, and their moral cores are as such pretty much identical... though Eomer is much more empathetic and often needs to give Kíhyué a kick in a more compassionate direction. “I think you very brave for trying. Maybe we fail, yes, happen some times. But what if not! Any thing can happen! Good thing, even! You would not even try for good? For happy thing? Stupid. Go try. Come try with me. I will go by myself, yes? No? Good! Together, we stand a chance, always worth a chance.”
#rixa writes#team chaotic good#whew this ate a good several hours#sorry it got so long#but thanks for the ask!!!#romulan-raptorstar
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⌠ DARREN BARNET, 24, MALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, DANIEL ‘DANNY’ ISHIDA ! according to their records, they’re a THIRD year, specializing in LINGUISTICS, CULTURE & ASSIMILATION + COVERT OPERATIONS; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (a white, perfectly charming, crooked smile; finger guns across the hallway; loose laces in his shoes). when it’s the (taurus)’s birthday on 5/17/1995, they always request their FRENCH TOAST from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.
BIOGRAPHY
He was born right outside of Boston amongst big houses, expensive cars and fine jewelry.
The youngest of the Ishida boys. There’s four of them.
He’s the not-so-happy accident in his family, which isn’t exactly a secret and it’s clear on plain sight, when you find out his siblings are 12, 13 and 15 years older than him, so there wasn’t much relationship with them, nor her parents. Danny has always been the neglected boy in the family. He’s tried to impress them many times, but at some point he simply gave up.
That did not mean he didn’t get anything material. It was the way his parents would compensate for the lack of attention and amusement. Danny had everything every young kid would’ve dreamed of. He got his first Mercedes Benz at the age of sixteen (crashed it merely three days later only to get a replacement after a week long punishment of driving a simple Ford).
Let’s get a little bit into his family. His father was always busy, if you could call drinking, gambling and doing drugs such thing. That’s on the surface, what everybody knows of Mr. Ishida. What not many people know, and he would like to keep that way, is that the Ishida family are the head of a mob organization with ties to drug cartels and prostitution rinks. Just. Very illegal stuff.
Mom... Mom just likes to take antidepressants with a bottle of champagne in very expensive silk robes.
Danny has known of the family business since he was old enough to comprehend the things he could and could not say, but before that, Danny basically grew up alone. Raised himself with the very few examples he saw in his life, which surprise, weren’t exactly the best, but he learned to be sympathetic too. Most of his life lessons though, came from movies. And he was a fan fo romantic comedies.
Fast forward to him being seventeen and in high school. His father had been recruiting new girls, and he wanted Danny to learn. Sure, he was kind of neglected, but every now and then daddy felt merciful of his youngest son and wanted to give him a sense that they had some sort of bonding.
Dad said not to talk to any of the girls. Just fix their documents, since most of them were illegal, don’t ask names, or lives, but there goes sympathetic Danny, ready to disobey his father.
Long story short, he fell for a girl named Lucia. She was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, and even though he was quite the ladies man in school, she was his first time, his first love, his first anything. It was all a secret, of course. His father could not find out, but of course he did.
Danny was in the midst of a heated make out session with Lucia when his oldest brother saw them, and went and told Mr. Ishida about it.
Long story short again... Lucia did not make it, which Danny did not take well, but he had to hold it all back, or things would not have ended well for him either. And ever since, Danny has been trying to find a way to get back at him for it.
Just like the rest of his brothers, Danny had an automatic pass into Yale. He hated it, but he convinced himself this would be the end of it. That he would get a good major, a good career, a good job somewhere far far away from his family and that the nightmare would be over.
But it wasn’t. His father’s plans for him weren’t over, and since he was the one with the least interest in following the family business, Mr. Ishida sent his youngest son to a place where he would learn how to do things on the low, to be secretive and lethal all at the same time and what a better place than Blackthorne.
Danny almost rebelled and escaped, but upon thinking about it a couple times, he realized it could play against his father too. He would learn everything he needs to learn, be the best secret weapon as he can be and eventually shoot his shot, end with this fucking bullshit life they had.
PERSONALITY
Despite the internal angst in Danny’s life.... his personality is far from what could expected. He’s not broody or dark. He’s more of a fuckboy with a warm smile and a wit word to charm as many as he can. Or annoy the fuck out of them. He’ll find enjoyment in both. This gif is literally the most Danny thing you will ever see.
Selfie enthusiast. Bonus points if they happen at the gym. Definitely self absorbed.
He loves movies, loves books, and will quote them every now and then.
He’s really smart. Borderline brilliant. School comes really easy to him as well as other sort of activities. He doesn’t brag about it, but he’s quite proud of his intelligence, because high key, his parents never really mention it. So if someone has to hype him up, it better be himself.
He speaks English, Japanese, French, German, Spanish, some Korean and is trying to learn Italian, simply because it’s hot.
He’s a sensitive child. He will cry with good songs, and some animal videos on Facebook and TikTok. He won’t deny it. He’s very proud of his emotions but will be a dick about it every damn time, and call himself a damn good person, as if.
He’s a party boy. Usually organizing them, bringing in the party goods and favors. What are his father’s connections for anyway?
On that matter, he ain’t a drug dealer and would never call himself that. He does like to share his own stuff, though. But won’t sell. Anything else illegal? Fake IDs? He’s your guy.
He always gets what he wants so he falls on the manipulative side. He will fake being your best friend, will fake having a crush, will do it all just to get what he wants.
He can be a pretty good boy too, though. Sensitive, attentive, loyal, responsible (for the most part) but be sure to always question his intentions.
POSSIBLE CONNECTION IDEAS?
Fuck boy calls for hook ups, friends with benefits, and one night stands. Give me some. Unlimited amount.
Sum fucks he could have had in Blackthorne too. Where my queer boys at.
Exes? He kind of runs away from actual love and opening up, but I could see him trying to be a little bit serious. Of course it did not work. Could be him breaking your child’s heart or the other way around.
Besties. He’s the bro kind of guy. Loves his friends a lot. Extremely loyal. Would lie, fight and kill for them.
Someone who’s actually had eyes on the Ishida family. This is a school of spies, some families are in the government or agencies who could already be trying to dismantle the whole organization.
Enemies. Just people who can’t stand him.
Crushes?
Old friends who had a fall out after something?
Former roommates who hated him. He’s annoying, messy and is always shirtless and working out. Could have liked him too tbh.
I suck. Give me anything pls.
@gallagherintro
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Friends and Forgetting
Beautifully Broken AU Part Eight
Heyyyy There! I’ve been meaning to post this part for like... two days.... ^-^ I’m very forgetful XD. Anyway, here it is! This is where the plot really starts to get going to buckle up buttercups it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!
WARNINGS: Conspiracies (by Dennis, but there is no Illuminati), friendly debate (Dennis and Logan), mentions of racism, mentions of anxiety, and of course, prosthetics and amputation, and not taking care of oneself.
This’ll be a doozy.
“Did you know that birds aren’t real?” Dennis asked when he sat down dramatically at the lunch table. Roman choked on his sandwich, laughing.
“...what did you just say?” Logan asked, eyes wide. “Of course birds are real. They’re the evolutionary remnant of dino-”
“Government drones. All of them.” Dennis insisted, shaking his head. “Dinosaurs never existed, Logan.”
“Of course they existed!” Logan said irritably. “There’s so much evidence and remnants and-”
“Government secrets.” Dennis waved his hands magically. “They’ve gotten you brainwashed, Logan.”
“Where’s your proof that birds are government drones?” Logan asked irritably.
“Where’s your proof that they aren’t?”
“Science!” Logan nearly yelled as Patton and Virgil approached.
“I told you they’d be fine,” Virgil said, waving a hand.
“Dennis doesn’t believe in birds,” Roman informed him as they both sat down. Virgil buried his head in his arms, mumbling something Roman couldn't make out.
“You said to get new material.” Dennis sighed. “I got new material, and I get the same reaction. Honestly, can you believe this, Roman?”
“What do you mean you don’t believe in birds?” Patton asked, dumbfounded. Dennis grinned.
“This is ridiculous!” Logan finally sputtered, regaining his ability to speak actual words. “Do you have any idea how big of a government coverup it would actually take to make people think birds exist? An impossibly large one! Birds are living things that evolved from the dinosaurs over the course of millions of years, and are in fact evil creatures, though that’s beside the point.”
“What did birds ever do to you?” Virgil asked incredulously.
“Spied on him for the government.” Dennis tapped his temple knowingly. Logan growled in frustration and angrily bit into his sandwich.
“You actually made him so mad he stopped talking,” Roman remarked, slightly impressed.
“It’s a talent not many people have.” Dennis boasted, grinning wickedly. “What about you, Roman? Do you believe in birds?”
“Yes.” Roman finished off his sandwich and watched Dennis pout dramatically.
“No one understands the geniuses in their time.” He mourned. “Galileo was thought crazy, too. A blasphemer. That’s my fate, it seems.”
“You are not like Galileo!” Logan muttered. Dennis chuckled.
“Alright, alright. Sorry.” he waved his hands. “We can change the topic if this is too distressing.”
“Auditions are today!” Patton said, effectively changing the topic. “You ready Virgil?”
“Maybe.” Virgil messed with the zipper on his hoodie. “I’m gonna try and see what happens.”
“What about you?” Dennis asked, looking over at Patton. “Did you decide on a song?”
“Roman helped me!” Patton declared, beaming over at Roman. Roman nodded, running his hand through his hair. “I’m doing the song from Brother Bear ‘I’m On My Way’. Apparently, my voice is better for it!”
“You were good at both of them,” Roman mumbled with a shrug.
“Oh yeah!” Patton looked over at him excitedly. “Roman’s an amazing singer! You should hear him! Roman, d’you wanna sing for us?”
“Not really.” Roman looked down at the table, crumpling the paper sack his lunch had been in.
“Oh, but-”
“Patton.” Logan adjusted his glasses. Patton sighed.
“Okay, sorry Ro. Didn’t mean to pressure you or anything.”
“Wow. Stern Logan rises again!” Dennis chuckled. “Haven’t seen him in a while.”
“I’ve got it!” Virgil suddenly sat upright, staring over at Roman. Roman looked back at him in surprise.
“What?”
“I know what you remind me of!” Virgil snapped his fingers, grinning.
“...what?”
“That freaking statue guy in Heroes of Olympus. The one who guards the new Rome place.”
“I’m really confused.”
“When you totally shut down stupid Mariah the first day of class,” Virgil explained, shaking his head. “You reminded me of that statue guy and I just remembered.”
“It’s been over a week,” Roman said, smirking. “Took you that long, huh?”
“Anyone want to clue us in on what the heck is happening?” Dennis asked, resting his head on his hand. “It’s interesting, but I need context.”
“Virgil thinks I’m a statue.” Roman declared, tossing the ball of crumpled lunch sacks over Dennis’s head and into the can. “Yess!”
“No, you and that thing you did… you know how that statue guy was like, slapping the Frank guy?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what it reminded me of,” Virgil said, staring at the table. Roman saw his face growing pink beneath his foundation. “Sorry, uh, that’s weird…”
“No, that’s exactly what I was going for.” Roman laughed. “Amber told me that if I pretended not to know what people were talking about when they were rude about, uh, my appearance, they’d just get awkward. No one wants to say ‘hey, you’re missing an arm’. That’s the whole point.”
“You’ve got to come to improv club.” Dennis decided loudly, slamming a fist on the table. “That’d be a hilarious skit.”
“...I really am missing an arm, Dennis.” Roman said, glancing down at his left side. “And I don’t want to go to improv club.”
“Oh yeah…” Dennis realized, face immediately going red. “Sorry, I forgot.”
“What,” Roman chuckled. “That I’m missing an arm?”
“...yeah.”
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Patton did well on his auditions. Roman was impressed, as was most of the people watching. But he couldn't help but notice the Drama teacher. She only seemed to pay attention to the students if they were… Roman hated to notice it, but white. It wasn’t a super diverse group of people, to begin with, but whenever someone like Patton came up she seemed to be completely disinterested. It irked him, but Roman stayed silent so he didn’t draw attention to himself. Dennis did well, and Virgil actually did the audition. He stumbled over some lines, but he did it. He met them afterward with a grin on his face.
“You did it!” Patton cheered, hugging Virgil tightly. Virgil laughed, nodding.
“I was awful, but I actually stayed onstage,” he mumbled. “I still won’t get a part, but I’m glad I did it.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get a part!” Patton waved a hand, then hugged Dennis as he arrived at the group. “Good job!”
“You as well.” Dennis chuckled. “Ice cream, then?”
“We always go to the ice cream place after auditions,” Patton explained to Roman. “You wanna come?”
“Well,” Roman hesitated. The school was father than the park had been, and Hazel and Amber didn’t think he should walk very far yet. Not to mention his knee was already throbbing painfully. But Patton gazed at him hopefully, and Virgil’s face was still flushed with happiness. “Yeah, of course, I do! Where’s Logan?”
“I’m here,” Logan said, coming up behind them. “You did quite well, Patton. Roman was right about the song choice.”
“Thanks!” Patton beamed and the group started toward the exit. “To the ice cream shop!”
“Let us know if you need to stop walking,” Virgil said softly, walking next to Roman. Roman frowned.
“I’ll be fine, stormcloud. Geez. I walked to the shop with Patton just the other day.” He waved his hand. “You did amazing, though. Your voice is meant to sing.”
“Thanks.” Virgil flushed darker. “I hear yours is, too.”
“People hear a lot of things.” Roman laughed, then started belting out “I can go the distance” as they started toward the shop. Patton beamed, giving him a thumbs up as Dennis and Virgil exchanged impressed looks.
It was nice to have friends again.
Awwwww That’s so cute! *laughs evilly* not for long... ^-^ jk there’s plenty of fluff coming up mixed with the angst! Thanks to everyone who continues to love this AU, it really means a lot that I can actually make something people want to read! Again, I might get some things wrong about amputation, prosthetics, and how exactly theater works (don’t judge me), and I’d love to get any pointers! Send an ask if you have questions or a prompt for the AU, and if you’d like to be tagged!
(@a-demonic-presence have you changed your URL? it’s stopped letting me tag you. I’m sorry.)
BB AU Taglist:
@a-demonic-presence, @deathshadowrules, @enbyamy, @ninja-wizard101, @sizzlingfacedonut, @mirror2thespirit, @nottodaylogic, @fanders-art, @livnlavidaloki
General Taglist:
@tacohippy56900
#Sanders Sides#Fanfiction#AU#Sanders Sides AU#Human AU#ts sides AU#ts#ts fanfiction#beautifully Broken Au#my writing#Roman#Patton#Virgil#Logan#Deceit#OC's#tw#conspiracies#amputation#<3
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As The World Crumbles (Chapter Nine)
Collaboration with @bentaylorrogerhardy
Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader
Word Count: 3541
Summary: Ben and (Y/n) have been dating since Bohemian Rhapsody’s release. Everything seemed perfect for the young couple, until the night of the Golden Globes. Russia has bombed the United States, destroying everything and implementing a ruthless dictatorship. With the country in tatters, Ben, (Y/n), Rami, Lucy, Joe, and Gwilym form the Killer Queens, a vigilante group aimed on destroying the new government, and the cold-blooded dictator, Cornelius Vanzant.
Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of death, injections/needles, mentions of strangulation/murder, angsty fluff
A/N: Less sad this time. Still sad, but less sad.
Our masterlists, along with the masterlist for this story, can be found in either of our profile descriptions!
(gif may not work on computer. Sorry!)
~~~
The four remaining members of the Killer Queens had been running for a while. It was past dark, and everyone was beyond exhausted. Joe and Gwilym had been carrying your records and record player, you carried Frankie, and Lucy carried a camera and small satellite dish she’d managed to grab. You couldn’t find anywhere to stay, and you were all on the edge of a mental breakdown. That’s when Gwilym spotted some lights.
“Look!” He nodded his head in the direction of the lights. “Way over there. Maybe we can sleep there for the night.”
You nodded, completely willing to sleep anywhere flat. The four of you began to slowly trudge towards the lights.
The building turned out to be a church. From the looks of it, it was unoccupied, which was weird for a church. Despite the things in your hands, you all made it through the doors. You stood in the foyer area, looking around. You noticed some bathrooms off to the side, and a sign labeling a kitchen down the hall. You were sure you could find cots somewhere to sleep on, which you were very thankful for.
“Well.” Joe sat the box of records down on the floor. “This doesn’t look half ba--OH SHIT!” Two figures had sprung out of one of the bathrooms, immediately tackling Joe. They had him pinned to the ground by his shoulders, and it took you a minute to figure out who they were.
“Brian? Roger?” you asked in disbelief. They both turned their heads to you, eyes going wide when they realized who you were.
“(Y/n)?” Brian asked, still not moving to get off of Joe.
“How are you guys still alive?” Gwilym asked, a small smile on his face.
Joe groaned. “Hey, it’s me. Joe Mazzello. I was in your movie. Can you please let me up off the floor?”
Brian looked back down at Joe, as if remembering what he had done. “Oh! Sorry.” He slowly stood up, reaching a hand down to help Roger up. “We’ve been here for months. We thought you were government spies or something.”
“And you were hiding in a bathroom?” Joe asked, brushing himself off as he stood up.
Roger shrugged. “It’s the best place to spring a surprise attack from.”
Joe popped his shoulder back into its socket. “Yeah,” he started, obviously annoyed. “I’d say so.”
Brian gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry, we probably should’ve waited a second before jumping out.”
Joe waved his hand in dismission. “It’s fine, I’m just surprised to see you alive!”
“Bold of you to assume I can die.” Brian whacked Roger in the arm for the drummer’s smart comment. “Okay, okay. Yeah, we’re alive, we went out a different exit and couldn’t find you guys.”
You felt tears pouring down your face. “I thought you died in the explosion.”
Brian pulled you into a hug. “We’re fine. Don’t cry.” Your baby kicked, hard enough for Brian to feel. He backed up, looking down in surprise. “Whoa! You’re pregnant!”
You smiled sadly, thinking of Ben. “Yeah, and I guess the baby likes you.” You placed your hand on your stomach, feeling the baby kick a couple more times. “Ben...uh...Ben’s the dad.” You got choked up in the middle of your sentence.
Roger looked around the group. “Hey, speaking of Ben, where is he? And Rami, where’d they go?”
At that, both you and Lucy broke into sobs. You’d both managed not to cry while on the run, but the pain became too much. You sank down to your knees, putting your head in your hands.
“Roger, you idiot, you made two women cry!” Brian said, smacking him again.
“Hey, this isn’t the first time.” Roger held up his hands, pretending to be innocent. Brian rolled his eyes.
You could hear Joe and Gwilym whispering to Brian and Roger, and a few seconds later you heard both men gasp. You could hear Brian mutter a few words, but couldn’t actually discern them. You were too busy trying not to scream from the emotional stress you were under.
A few moments later, you felt someone drop to the floor beside you. Joe wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you into his chest. “Shhh, just calm down. It’s going to be okay. We’re all here for you.”
“It’s not going to be okay,” you snapped. You knew he was just trying to help, but you felt like you were beyond help. “Ben’s going to die. He’s going to die, and I’m going to have to raise this child on my own.” You immediately bit your lip, feeling bad for talking about Lucy’s situation as if it were the worst case scenario. “I don’t know, I just--”
Gwilym kneeled down in front of you, causing you to look up. “No one is going to raise a baby alone. We’re all family, we’re all here for one another. We can all help both of you.”
Lucy wiped away a few tears. “We’ll get Ben back, (Y/n). We won’t fail him like we failed Rami.”
You sniffled, standing up and wrapping her up in a hug as best you could with two pregnant bellies between you. “I’m sorry Lucy,” you said. “I’m so, so sorry.”
She sighed. “I’ll be alright. Let’s just focus on our current problems. No one can save Rami now, it’s no use if everyone’s a crying mess over him.”
Brian put a hand on your shoulder as well as one on Lucy’s. “Let’s get everyone settled into rooms. We can figure out a course of action tomorrow.”
You pulled away from Lucy, nodding. “Yeah, let’s. I’m exhausted.”
Roger and Brian led everyone downstairs. “These rooms have couches in them, and they’re actually pretty comfortable. (Y/n) and Lucy, you can have the two biggest rooms, and Joe and Gwilym can be in the rooms across from you. Roger and I can sleep in the sanctuary.”
You closed the door to your room, shivering. It was cold, but there were some blankets on the couch, so you figured you could make do. You set Frankie down on the floor, and she immediately went for one of the couches, curling up and closing her eyes. The day had been taxing on her too.
You lay down on the other couch, pulling a blanket up to your chin. You lay on your side, trying to get comfortable. Sleeping while pregnant was already hard, but now Ben wasn’t with you, making it so much more difficult.
The more you thought about Ben, the more sad you got. You had no idea what he was going through right now, how much he was suffering. The thought almost made you sick to your stomach. You didn’t know how loud you were sobbing until you heard your door open.
“Hey, what’s up?” Joe asked, sitting down by your feet.
You sat up, scooting back against the armrest. “I can’t hold him and keep him safe and it’s killing me inside.”
Joe sighed. “We’ll get him back. As bad as this sounds, we know what doesn’t work now, so we can be better prepared next time.”
You shook your head. “I don’t know how Lucy’s doing it. Her boyfriend just died and she’s only fully cried once. I’ve been without Ben for less than a day and it’s killing me. And he’s not even dead.”
Joe swallowed a lump in his throat. “I know. But...I’ll be here for you, every day, until we can get him back. My room is right across the hall if you ever need anything. You can wake me up, I don’t care. I just don’t want you to feel alone.” He moved to stand up when you reached your arm out.
“Can you stay?” you asked. “I can’t do this alone tonight.”
He sat back down. “Yeah, of course.” He lay down so his feet were up by you, and you moved so you could lay on top of him.
“Thank you,” you whispered, closing your eyes.
He yawned. “Anything for my best friend.”
---
Ben could safely say he’d never felt worse in his life. He could also say that he positively hated these simulations, especially when they wore off. Every twenty-four hours or so, the injection would become ineffective, making him feel like he’d been hit by a truck. And every time he got a new injection, he felt even worse when it wore off. He was starting to think that that was how they were going to kill him.
He just wished he knew what was happening during the simulations. He’d wake up with no memory of what went on during them, making him even more anxious. The only thing he knew was that he was absolutely livid at his wife. He couldn’t exactly place why; maybe because she allowed him to be captured. He just wanted to strangle her. The feelings of anger also made him incredibly sad; if he couldn’t go back to her after this whole mess was over, what was the point?
Vanzant opened the bars to his cell, holding a syringe, like every time he came to visit. “Good morning Ben!” he quipped. “How’d you sleep?”
“You tell me,” Ben mumbled, trying to summon the energy to open his eyes. “I feel like I’ve been beaten up.”
“Ah. I’m sorry, my boy.” The dictator knelt down next to Ben’s head. “Just a side effect.”
“Don’t call me ‘your boy’,” Ben growled. “I don’t belong to you.”
Vanzant shook his head. “Ben, I think you’d be smart to not get cocky with me.”
“Maybe I’d be more willing to listen to you if you weren’t such an asshat.”
The man slapped Ben across the face. “Like I said, boy, you’ll do much better if you just do as I say. You don’t want to end up like your friend, Mr. Malek, do you?” He produced a needle from his pocket, attaching it to the syringe.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop!” Ben didn’t want another injection. “I won’t say anything smart or cocky again.”
“Too late.” Vanzant stuck the needle into Ben’s jugular, dumping all of the solution into his bloodstream. Ben craned his head back, screaming in pain.
It took a few minutes for the simulation to begin to take over again. Ben felt himself slipping under, like he was now watching his own actions from behind a glass wall.
“Now, are you going to do what I tell you?” Vanzant asked.
“Yes master,” Ben murmured.
Vanzant produced a picture of (Y/n), his wife. “And, what do you want to do to this woman?”
“Kill her, master.”
One of the guards wheeled an old television into the cell as it was already showing an old broadcast from the Killer Queens. This woman Ben was angry at was at the center of the screen, and Ben felt several alarms go off in his brain.
“You fucking bitch!” Ben screamed. His voice sounded animalistic, not like his normal voice at all. He leapt off the bed and at the TV, knocking it off the wheeled stand. The picture went away and was replaced with static, but Ben kept attacking until the screen was cracked out and his hand was bleeding.
Vanzant smiled wickedly. He looked over at a guard near him. “As long as we can keep him alive, I think this will work excellently.”
---
You woke up flat on your back with Joe laying on the floor below you. You grabbed a pillow at the foot of your bed, throwing it down on his face and causing him to wake up. He sat up, shaking his head and blinking.
“Whatever it was, I didn’t do it,” he mumbled.
You chuckled. “Joe, why are you on the floor?”
He rubbed his eyes. “You didn’t look comfortable so I figured I’d just move, but stay in the room.”
“You could’ve kicked Frankie off of her couch.”
“Yeah, but then I would’ve felt bad.”
You laughed. “Okay, whatever you say.” You threw your legs over the edge of the couch, stretching. “Well, I’m gonna go get Ben and then we can--” You stopped, suddenly remembering why you weren’t waking up on the same mattress you’d used for two years, with someone else in the room. Everything came crashing down on you at once, causing you to put your head down, sobbing.
“(Y/n), oh, my God.” Joe sat down next to you, wrapping his arms around you. “Don’t cry. It’ll be fine. We can get Ben back.”
You let out a gut-wrenching sob. “Stop!” you shouted. “Just stop saying that!”
“Okay!” Joe looked around the room frantically before quickly standing up and walking over to your record player. “Hey, we can listen to music and calm down!” He pulled out the Sheer Heart Attack record and placed it on the player. Once the music filled the room, he sat back down next to you. “Queen always cheers us up, right?”
You took a deep breath. “I don’t think anything can truly cheer me up.” You sniffled. “Except my Benny.”
The two of you sat in silence until Killer Queen came on. That’s when you felt your baby start to kick. A lot.
You let out a humorless chuckle. “Look.” You grabbed Joe’s hand and placed it on your stomach, and he was immediately able to feel your baby’s dance moves.
He smiled. “A true member of the Killer Queens.”
You rubbed your hand over your stomach, as the baby seemed to move more with each passing moment. “Just like their dad.”
Joe leaned down so his face was next to your stomach. “Your daddy’s gonna love you so much when he sees you.” You decided to not make any pessimistic comments at that moment; Joe was being too cute. “Yeah, Ben’s your dad, and I’m Uncle Joe. I’m gonna be able to teach you so many things, like the art of chaos, uh--”
“Joe Mazzello.” You shoved him away gently, actually laughing a little. “Don’t be that one uncle that no one talks about because he’s too weird.”
“But you love me for my weirdness!” he defended.
“True.” You leaned against him, putting your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you, leaning back against the couch.
After a while more of just listening to music and watching your baby move, you decided to try to speak again. “Thank you for everything, Joe. You’re the best friend I could ever ask f--”
You were interrupted as Lap of the Gods came on and the door to your room was flung open by none other than Roger, who was trying to hit his own high notes. You screamed, trying to get as far away from the door as possible. Joe fell onto his side, dying from laughter.
“Even in the lap of the godssssss!” Roger sang.
You leaned against a wall, finally able to laugh. “Roger!” you shouted at him. “Do you want to send me into early labor?”
Roger stopped singing at your comment, not able to contain his own laughter. “Oh shit, my bad.” He shook his head. “I forgot that could happen.”
“It can?” Joe asked.
“Probably.” You sat back down, letting out a breath. “That was the funniest thing ever, thank you Rog.”
“No problem, glad to be of service.” He was still trying to stop laughing as he stepped out of the way to let Lucy into the room.
“What on Earth is happening over here?” she asked, bewildered. “I was trying to sleep in.”
You pointed between Roger and the record player, still laughing. “He came in here and just…” You imitated his screaming, sounding awful and making everyone laugh harder.
Lucy chuckled. “Okay, you very strange people.” She walked across the room and sat on Frankie’s couch, letting the dog crawl into her lap. “So. I think we all have a few things to talk about.”
Your face immediately fell. “Lucy, I’d rather not. And I know you don’t want to talk about it either.”
Lucy looked down at her hands. “True, but I think we need to.”
Joe put a hand on your knee. “Maybe talking about it will help you cope?”
You sighed. “All right. We can give it a try.”
Lucy motioned to you. “Do you want to start?”
Rolling your eyes, you looked up at the ceiling. “Sure, I guess.” You cleared your throat. “Um, every moment I spent knowing Ben could die at any time is more painful than the last.” Your happiness from Roger’s entrance had evaporated. “I just don’t want him to die. That’s all I want, and I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” You bit back a sob. “Okay, Lucy, you talk.”
Lucy gulped. “Well, for me the past twenty four hours have been...pretty rough, to say the least. And being pregnant with a dead man’s baby is very emotionally taxing.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know, I’m just having issues coming to terms with the fact that he’s never coming back. He’s never going to hug me or kiss me again, I’m never going to see him smile again. It’s just...really weird.” She let a few tears slip down her face. “He’s never going to meet his child.” She put her hand on her belly. “He was hoping for a boy. I really want a boy, just for his sake. Maybe I can name him Rami Malek, Jr. or something.”
You pressed your lips together. You didn’t know how she was doing so well. If you were in her position, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of bed at all, the pain would be so intense. “Lucy, we love you. And we’re here for you.”
She sniffled. “Thank you.” She wiped away her tears. “So, does Ben want a boy or girl?”
“Girl.” You smiled. “He refused to believe it would be anything but a girl.”
“Got a name picked out?” she asked.
You shook your head. “We were going to meet them and see what name fit their personality.”
Lucy stood up, walking over to you. She sat down next to you, wrapping her arms around you. “You’re so strong.”
You hugged her back. “You’re a million times stronger than I am.”
Joe piped in, “I think you’re both incredibly strong. I mean, look, you’re making two full humans, that’s not nothing.”
You laughed, standing up and grabbing Lucy’s hand to pull her up. “We gotta compare bellies,” you explained, lifting up your shirt over it. She did the same, standing in front of you so your stomachs were touching.
“Mine’s bigger,” Lucy said, giving a small smile. “I think I’m a couple weeks ahead of you.”
You smiled, pulling your shirt back down. “They’re gonna be best friends, I just know it.”
Lucy grinned back at you. “They’ll be cousins. We’re all family here.” When she saw a tear run down your face, she pulled you close. “Ben will see his child. I promise you that.”
You tried to refrain from breaking down again. “Thank you, Lucy.” You took in a shaky breath. “Thank you all for everything.”
Joe sniffled. “I’m not crying. My face is just leaking, that’s all.”
You smiled. “Whatever you say, Joe.”
---
“Roger, I don’t think ‘gribblmnit’ is a word,” Brian said slowly.
“Yes it is!” Roger turned his nose up at the Scrabble board. “You’ve just never wanted to admit my intellectual superiority.”
Brian rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’ll give it to you, but only because this is the fifth argument we’ve had already and I’m over it.”
“Yesssss.” Roger pumped his fist, causing you and Joe to laugh. Gwilym and Lucy sat watching, waiting for this game to end so they could switch with the two losers.
Out of nowhere, a knock was heard from the doors. The doors were glass, but Brian and Roger had either painted the panes or covered them completely with blankets or curtains, so no one could see inside.
“Who on Earth could that be?” Brian asked, standing up and walking towards the door, Gwilym following him.
Beginning to get anxious, you grabbed Joe’s hand and squeezed it for comfort. He squeezed back, giving you a smile. “I’m sure it’s fine, probably just someone like us looking for a place to stay.”
Brian slowly reached towards the door handle, taking it in his hand. “If it’s some threat, be ready to fight,” he whispered to Gwilym. The younger man nodded in response.
After a few more seconds, the person knocked again. Brian flung the door open, his eyes immediately going wide. “Fuck no!” He slammed the door shut, backing away and pushing Gwilym with him.
You and Joe stood up. “What the hell?” you asked.
Brian turned to you, a look of horror on his face. “Brian,” Joe said. “Brian, what did you see?”
“I know who that is.”
You rolled your eyes. “Okay, but who was it?!”
Brian tapped his foot anxiously. “Shit, shit, what are we gonna do…?”
“Brian!” you and Lucy shouted at the same time. The person at the door knocked again. “Who was it?”
Brian sighed. “Cornelius Vanzant’s wife. They’ve found us.”
Tags: @florencewelchmybiggod @xquiet-thoughtsx @virtualsheepeat@pietrorunsforme @stella2445 @dovexparker@amostpeculiarmademoisellerp @harrysniallpolish @mr-stank-i-dont-feel-so-dank @thewinchesterchronicles @kellysimagines
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Congratulations, Joss! You’ve been accepted to play Julius Heller. Your request to change his FC to Chris Evans, and his school to West Point, has also been approved. Please make your page and send it in within 24 hours.
Admin note: Hi, I’m obsessed with the detail in this application! I love how much thought you put in to his motivations and his history with Karina. I can’t wait to see Julius on the dash! - Admin M
IC INFORMATION —
CHARACTER DESIRED
Julius Heller
DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER IN YOUR OWN WORDS
Julius was pretty much force-fed the need to sacrifice for God and country from the age of 3. His father intended his son to follow in his footsteps, maybe be a full-bird colonel or even a general. Julius was smart and adaptable, he had to be with how he grew up, and he didn’t have close ties to any one place in particular. Add on a father whose love and respect was based solely on how willing Julius was to say how hi when his father said jump and you have the perfect candidate for the clandestine services. People from happy functional families don’t tend to become spies.
Working for the CIA wasn’t quite what he imagined, but it was thrilling nonetheless. His focus was Russia and working dealing with bot farms and counterespionage. He ended up dealing with the Russian Mafia’s encroachment on the US and developing connections in the mob in Moscow and St. Petersberg. After the Ukrainian revolution, he was sent to the Crimea to gather intel about Russian separatists and the Ukrainian forces trying to fight back against them. He ended up deep undercover, dating the daughter of a Russian-backed politician suspected of funding anti-Chechen terrorist activities.
Karina. Oh Karina. She wasn’t the first love of Julius’s life, but she was the one who got to him when he was vulnerable and in need of someone to hang onto. She was trouble, the kind of trouble he should’ve known to avoid, with a drug problem and an attitude that she could get away with anything because of who she was. But she got him in important doors, and lying next to her in bed at night made him feel like someone might love him at least a little for who he really was, even if he wasn’t sure who that was anymore.
Karina got into a new kind of trouble: playing at the games her father was involved in. She didn’t seem to understand why Julius would object, when he was the one neck-deep in it too, and it resulted in a fight that only ended when she called him to tell him she was pregnant. She also revealed that she’d been using his name to engage in all kinds of bad behaviour and had gotten him so deep in shit that even he couldn’t get out. He was going to get pulled by his handler and be sent back stateside. She told him if he left her, she’d reveal everything he’d been up to and make trouble for him with the Russian Mafia, blowing up his whole mission. She knew just enough that if she told the wrong people, he’d get outed and burned and probably end up dead.
While he was trying to find a way to bring her home with him, still convinced that they could have a family and be together, despite all the evidence to the contrary, Karina disappeared. At first, Julius assumed she was doing it on purpose to force him to acquiesce to her demands. Then, he was simply frantic, using contacts he only had for life or death situations to try and find her. She was found by Ukrainian police in an alley, dead of an overdose. The media called it a tragic accident and hinted that it might be a suicide, while her father accused first the Ukrainians and then his own Russian contacts of having her killed. Only Julius knew that the Chechens had been tipped off about her involvement in her father’s business there. And that sent him down the rabbit hole of not knowing whether or not his own organization was to blame; whether they’d weighed the likelihood of his own death or hers and come up with an equation that he couldn’t be a part of.
There is Julius pre-Karina and Julius post-Karina, and it’s the defining moment where he went against God and country and had to discover who he actually was as a person. He’s still figuring that out. What is the difference, after all, between someone who commits crimes for personal gain and someone who does it for the flag? Is he any better than a criminal himself? Half his co-workers retired and became arms dealers or corporate security chiefs who engage in morally grey activities in foreign countries where no one is watching. Who is he if he’s not the good guy? He’d always believed that a good guy doing a bad thing for the right reasons was better than a bad guy doing the same thing for the wrong reasons. Now he’s not so sure there’s even such a thing as good guys and bad guys at all.
His involvement with the Sinclairs has left him feeling even more confused. If he’s keeping someone safe, but he’s doing so for criminals, is he better than he was when he was getting people killed for the government? His moral quandaries are something he tries not to dwell on, the kind of man who acts and doesn’t worry about second-guessing because it will get you killed, but years of turning off his moral compass has made it impossible to shut it off anymore.
What’s worse is there are people in the Sinclairs that he likes, that he cares about, who matter to him. Not getting attached was supposed to be part of his job, but having done it once with Karina, it’s become a habit he doesn’t know how to quit.
All of this would suggest a brooding, angsty man who weeps into his whiskey quietly in his apartment while it rains, only of course he’s too manly to actually weep. But Jules is the opposite of that. He’s had to become pathologically well-liked as part of his CIA training, and it’s carried forward into his new line of work. He can sit down at a table and make friends with whoever happens to be there, so that by the end of the evening, he knows the name of everyone’s spouse, children, mistress, and favourite sports team. Jules can get secrets out of people and they don’t even realize he was the one who asked in the first place.
He doesn���t let a lot of people in, and even when he found Paityn and protected her, almost on a whim, he still struggled to let himself care for her. She reminded him of Karina, trouble that needed him and fulfilled that part of him that wanted to be the knight in shining armour when he’d spent his life hiding in the shadows. But she and her mother have wormed their way into his life, so that he now even has weekly coffees with Penny to discuss her family and frets over Paityn if she doesn’t check in even on his days off. He’s dangerously close to considering at least part of the Sinclairs as something almost like family, which he hasn’t had since he joined the service, and it would frighten him if he let himself think about it.
WRITING SAMPLE
Once upon a time, Julian Helmann had thought he knew what right and wrong were. Now he knew he had no idea. After years of wearing a variety of masks and using so many different names that he sometimes forgot which one was real, he was back in the country that he’d loved but never really known. He had a new identity, which had cost him his retirement fund. His former handlers at Langley had agreed to quietly retire him provided he accepted that Julian Helmann was burned in the intelligence community, never able to work for any government, disavowed by the service and made known to every agency willing to listen. He’d signed along the dotted line and hadn’t told them all to eat shit, because he was too tired to care. It was over, that was the important thing.
So he was now Julius Heller, and that was who he would be for the rest of his life. Or until something new happened that required him to leave this one behind. He’d learned not to rely on anything remaining the same. Being adaptable was what kept you alive.
He’d picked Chicago because it was unfamiliar to him. He’d never lived there with his family growing up, there were no military bases near enough to bother him, and it seemed like a city that didn’t require you to have a past. No one needed to know his life story, they simply knew that he was here now.
Case in point, he’d been coming to the Sinclair bar for a month and had made friends with three bartenders and five locals. None of them cared about what he’d done before arriving in Chicago, other than making sure he wasn’t a fan of the wrong sports team. He’d spent his life worrying about the motives of every stranger he came across, so it was refreshing to know that he was surrounded by people engaged in the kind of lifestyle that meant he already knew what their motives were, and that they didn’t care about him. Maybe he’d spent too much time in Russia. Maybe he couldn’t really get along with anyone but criminals anymore. When you’d spent fifteen years of your life learning how to do a thing, it was simply possible you couldn’t stop.
Of course he knew who they were. He’d chosen the bar for that very reason. What better place to blend in than a bar where everyone had rap sheets and a pressing desire not to answer questions? They weren’t even that bad, as gangs went. They didn’t kill your whole family as a lesson if you fucked up while you watched. Chicago had been run by the Irish and the Italians, who would probably hate to hear that that marked them as soft when it came to organized crime syndicates, but Jules had chosen it over places with a heavy Russian influence. Sure, the Russians were moving on Chicago, they moved on anywhere they could, but they didn’t have a stranglehold on the place yet. If they did, he supposed he would have to leave. He was used to that.
There’s a quiet after an explosion that most people don’t realize. The blast itself isn’t so much loud as it is an attack on the senses. You don’t even process it as sound because it blows out your eardrums. And then there’s just quiet, and a ringing that slowly grows louder and louder. You can feel it in your head, your teeth, your chest. You’re dripping blood from your ears, your nose, anywhere the shrapnel has hit, and the world feels a lot like if you’ve been pulled into the undertow, and you don’t know which way is up. It is one of the most disorienting sensations, and there’s no way to get used to it. Whether it’s your first explosion, or your 30th, you handle it the same way, which is badly.
Julius was outside the bar, which wasn’t hard, since there was now a much larger entrance than there had been, wondering if Vladimir had found out who he was and had sent a message about the thing in Vladivostok. A man pointed a gun at him and was probably screaming, Jules’s ears hadn’t adjusted yet. He’d be at least half-deaf for three days. Reading lips was never as accurate as people thought, but even in his current state, Jules could tell it was in English. And more, that the man didn’t have Soviet teeth, so he wasn’t Russian. Ukrainian, maybe?
“Ya ne rozmovlyayu anhliysʹkoyu.” I don’t speak English. Julius couldn’t even hear his own voice, didn’t know if he was shouting it or if it just felt that way. He kept his hands up, trying to wipe the blood off of his face on the inside of his elbow. The words, “fucking Sinclairs” was clear enough that Jules felt comfortable assuming this was not, in fact, a hit on him.
While debating whether or not to simply lie down on the ground and let things take their natural course, he saw a crumpled form with hair that caught the streetlight glow. It was a girl. She reminded him suddenly of Karina, the way they’d found her behind Yuzhnoe. He’d looked at the crime scene photos, still had them, couldn’t stop looking, as if something was going to finally tip him off and tell him for sure what had happened.
The yelling man with the gun had stopped pointing it at Julius, also having noticed the girl, and was walking towards her, firing and missing. The Costellos really needed to offer better firearms training. Julius shot the man in the head three times in quick succession, twice in the main body cavity as well just for good measure. Scooping up what turned out to be a handy little assault rifle that was definitely not street legal, Julius kicked the corpse several times just to be absolutely sure.
The girl was small, smaller than Karina had been, she weighed almost nothing as Julius rolled her over and checked for injuries. His hearing was fucked, so he kept having to look up, checking for cops or reinforcements. When he saw them coming, he was disappointed to realize it wasn’t the cops. Cops he could handle. This was going to be complicated.
Throwing her over a shoulder, he flicked the gun to semi-auto and sprayed a pattern directly at the oncoming car, causing it to spin out and hit the curb trying to avoid the bullets. That gave him time to unlock his car and toss the girl into the back seat. Button-lock cars were really a lifesaver.
The street ahead was suddenly blocked off by an SUV, and the car behind was moving to block him off as well. Fabulous. Turning, he noted that the girl was coming around. “Hey, I need you to get down and hide in the foot well, okay? Just … don’t move and don’t open the car for anyone. I’ll be back in a minute.” After a moment, he dug his phone out and tossed it to her. It was a burner anyway. “If I’m not back in five minutes, call 911 and then the first number in the contacts, tell them you need an extraction. Someone will come, okay?” Looking out the window, he judged he had maybe 30 seconds before they were about to have company. “Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise. You’re gonna be fine.”
Four minutes and 12 seconds later, he opened the driver’s side door, dripping blood from a graze across his bicep. It would sting but wouldn’t kill him. The SUV that had been blocking his path was now on fire and the one behind them had a small semi-circle of bodies around it. The girl was still there, looking dazed and so small. Her eyes seemed to take up most of her face. Karina’s face had been different. He reminded himself of that. Not the same. Different girl, different country, different him. “Let’s get you home, okay?”
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