#(Sparks and Mal ready to throw HANDS)

[emotionally-wired-pyrobot]

It seems that they're not too happy about people trying to show creepy bugs

"MRRR!"

I HAV-VE ACCIDENTALLY DEL-LETED AN ASK, BUT SOMEBODY WAN-NTED TO SHOW ME THEIR MILLE…MI-MILLEPEDE MOZART!!! I DO NOT WISH TO S-SEE!!! PLEASE!!!

[descendantofthesparrow]

POYW Rewrite V2 - Harry Hook x reader - P15

=

The villains and their children stared as fireworks soared above Auradon, colorful sparks decorating the skies. Hook deepened his anger in rum, Gaston took his fury out on his house(his twin sons escaping his wrath as soon as he was seen on the block); EQ, Cruella, and Jafar all watched in thinly veiled disgust for their traitorous children-as music blasted and a party overtook Auradon prep-where King Ben was having his coronation party.

Teens danced and cheered as lights flashed, fireworks raining above them-setting the perfect scene for Ben’s coronation party. Speaking of Ben, he was currently being carried by the tourney team around the courtyard, laughing as they jostled him about-his smile brightening as he spotted Mal on the fountain stage next to you and Evie-the three girls laughing and twisting about to the music.

Mal; oh-oh yeah~ oh yeah yeah! Evie; let's set it off! Oh yeah! (y/n); you can make it happen!

All; ohayohay hey!

Ben was thrown onto the stage, twisting around with an almost shy grin, laughing as the students around him bowed-and he took a moment to mess with Chad’s hair-giving the boy a teasing grin as Chad looked at him-almost offended before he smiled, pushing Ben playfully.

Ben; kings and queens it’s our time to rise! Write the book; the story of our lives, this is us, taking back the night!

All; ohayohay!

He turned, seeing Mal making her way towards him and he held out his hand-the other behind his back, grinning as Mal took it and spun herself about to stand on his other side.

Mal; break the spell-we were born this way! Be yourself, forget the DNA! Everybody raise your hands and say~

All; ohayohay, hey!

Evie parted the crowd-stylish and proud as ever, strutting down the makeshift runway and dancing her heart out-grinning as Doug slid in to dance with her.

Evie; sound the alarm, get on your feet! Let’s set it off and rock this beat, dance till your heart is wild and free~

You couldn’t help but laugh/scream as Harry jumped up behind you, taking your hand and dancing you further onto the stage-his tailcoat abandoned-leaving just the waist coat-his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

(y/n): feeling the power let it all out! Like what you see in the mirror-shout! We got the keys, the kingdoms ours~

You took Evie’s hand as she passed you, twirling her around as Harry laughed, meeting Mal and Ben in the middle and throwing your hands to the skies.

All; let’s set it off! Oh yeah! Start a chain reaction, and never let it stop! Let’s set it off-oh yeah yeah! You can make it happen; with everything you’ve got-let’s set it off!

Harry took your waist, pulling you up and over to his other side, his hands once again finding yours and bringing you close-all while laughing as you sang.

All; get ready, set it off! We bout to set it off! Get ready, set it off! ohayohay, hey!

The boys, Carlos, Gil, and Jay; all spotted Jane sitting alone-away from the party. She didn’t feel like she deserved to be there not after what she had done; not just at the coronation-but to the vks, for being so mean after they had practically welcomed her with open arms.

Carlos and Gil shared a smile and nodded, the three boys walking forward and sitting on each side of Jane, Jay behind them and taking Jane’s shoulders, smiling down at her. She jumped-surprised, her eyes locked onto Gil as he offered his hand, maybe they wouldn’t get back to how they were right away, but they didn’t have to be enemies.

Carlos; it’s time to set this thing off, let’s make it happen now! Gil; Imma make my own future, ignore all the rumors-show em how passion sounds! Carlos/Jay/Gil; they all told me I should back down, judgin’ me cause of my background; thinkin’ bout changin’ my path now-nah I ain’t going out like that now!

Gil grinned as he took Jane up the steps to join the rest of the party, laughing as Lonnie and Audrey came up to Jay and Carlos-whirling the two boys into the party with matching grins.

Audrey; feeling the power let it all out! Lonnie; like what you see in the mirror-shout! Jay; we’ve got the keys the kingdoms ours~! All; ooh, oh,oh! Evie; Whoa-ooh yeah!

The music blasted again, everyone dancing to their heart's content, you and Harry met up with Jane and Gil, laughing as you danced together.

All; let’s set it off! Oh yeah! Start a chain reaction and never let it stop! Let’s set it off! Oh yeah! You can make it happen; with everything you’ve got let’s set it off!

All; get ready, set it off! We bout to set it off! Get ready, set it off! We bout to set it off! Get ready, set it off! We bout to set it off! Get ready, set it off! Three, two, one-

The beat dropped and everyone danced together, Mal and Ben running off somewhere-almost kissing but not, Mal cheekily dodging Ben’s kiss and pushing him away-leaving the rest of you to party.

Mal; ooh-yeah!

Harry twirled you into his arms, your arms automatically going around his neck, smiling at you with that handsome side grin he always used.

Harry; let's set it off, oh yeah~

You grinned back, taking his hands and swinging them about-the party around you almost disappearing as you got lost in each other's eyes.

(y/n)/Harry; start a chain reaction, and never let it stop!

All; let’s set it off! Oh yeah! You can make it happen, with everything you’ve got, let’s set it off! Get ready, set it off! We bout to set it off! Get ready, set it off! We bout to set it off! Everyone turned to face Ben and Mal, bowing to their new king-long may he reign. Fireworks once again exploded in the sky, cutting through the music as everyone cheered and jumped around, Harry took you in his arms and spun you around, laughing into your ear as you scream/laughed.

He was free, free from his father, the isle, and evil expectations. He could be-whatever he wanted now, and with you by his side, he was sure he could do just about anything.

You took his face in your hands, bringing him close enough to press your forehead against his, laughing as his eyes closed and he took a deep breath, his whole body relaxing.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered and you grinned, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Anything for you, Harry” you whispered back, letting him pull you close again, resting your chin on his shoulder.

You turned your gaze to the reader-who jumped in surprise, not expecting to be addressed-smirking a bit as they did. “you didn’t think this was the end of the story, did you?” you chuckled, winking and then pulling Harry back to dance as everyone cheered and music blasted-marking the beginning of a wonderful story.

-end of p15-

It’s short, I know, I’m sorry XD after so long since the last update, I’m sure yall wanted something more-but-really, other than an epilogue that explains a bit more of Shuffle playlist(which is the next book in this story, which no I will not be rewriting/revising), Rewrite revise is finished~ hope yall liked it and it flowed better than the version I wrote in 2020(?)

Epilogue soon(hopefully)! Uma will return in Shuffle playlist-Rewrite poyw

Permtaglist!

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange @lunanight2012

@daughter-of-the-stars11 @musicarose @rintheemolion

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@imtryingthisout @remembered-license @thecaptainsgingersnap

@thetrueghostqueen @littlewierdalien @melonsmysteriousmonarchy

R!poyw v2 taglist!

@reallysparklychaos @tzurue @evilunicorns4minions

[aciid-eater]

“Touching you” Harry Hook soulmate au/xreader part 4

Summary: In a world where you’re connected to your soulmate by thought, a young villain and a young girl are brought together by unique circumstances.

__________________________________________

It had been a full year since y/n’s first trip to the isle, and now, she was driving the sleek black limo back over the bridge to pick the old vk’s up from retrieving hades ember. Grabbing the remote from the glove compartment of the car, Y/n got out the driver’s seat, leaning on the hood of the car and pressed the button.

She watched with intent as the glittering magic of the barrier opened the gate.

“Any luck?” She asked Mal who was leading the rest out of the isle. The girl in question smirked, raising the ember up so y/n could see, eliciting a relived smirk.

Y/n waited until they were all out of the walk way and pressed the button to close the barrier. It wasn’t until the barrier was almost closed, that two people suddenly jumped through, rolling to a stop on the ground.

Y/n’s blood ran cold when she realized it was Harry and Gil. She watched them cheer and embrace each other before Harry turned to wink her way.

“Miss me?” He smirked. He let out a hearty chuckle when she didn’t move, only staring with her mouth a bit agape.

“What? I couldn’t stay away from me girl for too long!” He began to walk her way but was stopped by Jay pushing him back a few steps. Gil caught wind and pushed him back, creating a small push and shove that knocked Hade’s ember right out of Mal’s hand and over the bridge.

There was a moment of panic until a tentacle reached out from the ocean and grabbed the ember before it could touch the water.

Uma was here too.

__________________________________________

“So this be yer’ dorm?”

Y/n turned and watched as Harry picked at random trinkets on her desk.

“It’s real.....clean.” He mumbled.

“Thank you.” she giggled.

Approaching her at the end of the bed, Harry wrapped his arms around y/n’s waist, pulling her taught to his chest.

“I missed ye’” He mumbled, nuzzling his face into her neck.

“I missed you too darling. How do you feel about staying in Auradon?” She asked, rubbing his back soothingly.

“Mm.” He huffed.

“I know it’s not ideal in terms of the environment you’re used to” She began, fumbling until she was holding his pouting face in her hands.

“But if you’re a good boy and help us stop audrey, Mal will release the kids from the isle just like she said. You just gotta hang in there, can you do that for me?” She cooed, making obnoxious kissy faces at him.

“Alright Alright.” He chuckled, freeing his face from her grasp.

“I’ll do it just for you.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to the side of her face

__________________________________________

“Ready to wrap this up girl?” Uma chuckled, a couple laughs from the group following as they walked out of the small cottage.

Y/n smiled in the comfort of Harry’s arm around her waist. Looking around, she basked in the comfort of the previous VK’s and the lastest auradon VK’s acting so freely in each other’s comfort.

“One day you guys are going to have to tell me how you teamed up.” Ben laughed, looking to his fiancé.

“Actually,” Evie began happily. “Mal agreed to release all the kids from the isle.”

The thought made y/n’s heart flutter, she had waited so long to be with her soulmate.

“I need to tell you guys something.” Mal said suddenly, turning to face the group.

“.......I lied to you.... the kids won’t be coming off that isle.” she said sadly.

“What?” Y/n and Jay said at the same time.

“The program will be shut down...and the barrier will be closed for good.” She said, looking down at her hands in guilt. Y/n’s hands came up to cover her face. Squatting down, she ran her hands through her hair while taking deep breaths.

“Hold up.” Uma approached Mal.

“So we’re saving your precious people, AND your behinds, for a lie?..... I knew it was a mistake to trust you. You’re always out for yourself.”

“You... King Ben...” Harry stared him down, malice running through his gaze.

“Yer probably just gonna throw us back, eh?” He asked, voice deflated.

Celia puffed out her chest, stoping to Mal with tears in her eyes.

“I used to think you were brave. You’re nothing but a chicken, who was going to tell me I was never going to see my dad again??” Y/n watched with cold eyes as she snatched the ember from Mal’s hand and threw it into a bird bath before stomping away. Mal shrieked as it sparked, pulling it out of the water and attempting to get it to work again.

“Bummer.” Uma commented.

“Let’s go find Gil and leave em all to rot.” she mumbled to Harry.

Take me with you please, please I need to come with you.

Harry stopped walking. Looking back, he locked eyes with y/n. He flicked his hand at her, motioning her to follow. A tear slipped down her face at the realization of what she was going to do. And it was Mal’s fault she had to make such a choice.

Treading forward, she stopped at Mal’s side.

“You knew how much this meant to me.” Then she turned to look at Ben.

“Auradon can go ahead a forget any contact methods it has with Agrabah. We have no interest in doing business with you anymore.” She stated, finally moving along to catch up with Harry.

She knew she was bluffing, if she decided to move to the Isle, it would relinquish the hold she had on her kingdom’s government, but she was willing to give that up.

_________________________________________

Tagging!: @meyocoko @maggiecc

[cheekygreenty]

In My Head - The Darkling x Reader

Supppeer angsty and kinda sad?

The fire engulfed the golden kefta in a water-like rhythm. The cracks and sparks echoed in the open field amongst the silence that settled around all of you. Alina was exhausted, Zoya was grieving, the Ketterdam criminals looked shaken too. But you were unmoving, as still as a painting and not showing a single emotion. They had all witnessed your heartbreak as it fell and crashed the world around you, breaking every part of you. They watched as realization flooded you that you never truly knew Aleksander. They watched as he tore your heart from your chest and threw it into the depths of the Fold to rot.

Painted a picture,

I thought I knew you well

It was humiliating. Alina had tried to warn you but you played her off as selfish and unwilling to use her powers for the good of all Grisha. You told her she was stupid and foolish for loving an otkazat'sya when in reality you were the fool for loving a man that didn't exist.

You told her she was crazy, that Aleksander would never lie to you and that he was good because you knew him. In truth, you were no better than him. You blindly followed everything he said, completely ignoring the alarm bells in your head. You had grown used to them as weeks went by, to the point of the alarm playing a low comforting tune in your mind all day and all night.

There weren't enough apologies in the world to say sorry for the things you'd done and said to Alina and she'd insisted that no apology was necessary because it wasn't your fault, 'It's not your fault you only see the good things about people' she whispered to you before she left to change. But the good things about him weren't there; they never existed. It was all in your head, a mind so desperate for love it concocted a whole new Aleksander, one which you loved so much and would do anything for.

I got a habit of seeing what isn't there

'We were all fooled Y/N, Don't blame it all on yourself' Despite her grieving and sorrow, Zoya's hand rested on your shoulder briefly as a sign of comfort. Without her, you wouldn't have been here right now, alive and breathing.

'I don't blame myself. I hate myself for being so blind'

'Me too'

I thought that you were the one

But it was all in my head

------

You could feel the nothingness of the Fold threading through your hair even inside Alina's tunnel of safety. You stared at her shackled feet, pushing the guilt away and replacing it with a sense of righteousness. There was nothing else that could be done to keep her in check, if she wanted to escape and hide from her destiny forever then she would do so over your dead body.

The Fold needed to be gone and if chaining her to the skiff was going to be the only way she obeyed then so be it. Your mind quickly spiraled back to her hasty words back in the tent. She was panicked and desperate, clinging to your arm like a wailing child begging to be heard. Her lies were bizarre and abundant, no doubt the works from her long journey to the Stag but they were unbelievable. So extreme even a Fjerdan would laugh at their ridiculousness.

The skiff suddenly stopped, Novokribirsk visible in the distance with lines of First-Army troops standing in neat lines.

'Why have we stopped?' A dignitary asked and you wondered the same thing. You searched the skiff for anyone with an explanation, but everyone looked equally as confused but Alina looked mortified. What is going on?

'One more demonstration. You’ve seen what the Sun Summoner can do' You whipped your head around to him slightly moving away but his arm pulled you back to his side with an edge. You heard the loud jangle of Alina's chains as she tried to move. 'Now bear witness to what I can do… with her power.'

He pushed you to Ivan, who took no time in holding you back by the arms, caging you in his grasp. You resisted on the simple basis that you didn't know why you were being restrained just like Alina but the answer came all too soon. There was no time to shout or gasp as Aleksander raised his own hands and the black shadows of the Fold expanded into Novokribirsk, killing everything in its path.

You stood motionless as the horrible sounds of volcra swarming and humans screaming flooded the air. Alina's words came back to you again but you didn't listen. No, you didn't want to. Zoya seemingly came down from the mainsail and looked at the black void in a hypnosis-like stare but nobody dared say anything. There was a silence on the skiff while hundreds and thousands of lives ceased to exist in a matter of seconds.

The comforting tune in your head had suddenly turned into a blinding screech, rendering you frozen and flabbergasted. He did this, Aleksander did this. How could he do this? You tried to fight the heartrenderer off, squirming desperately in his arms to cover your ears from the slaughtering sounds. Your knees had given out by now and Alina was on the floor of the skiff, struggling to get up due to the heavy and awkward chains. I put them there.

'Today, we redraw all the maps. With the power of the Sun Summoner at my command, I control the Fold.' A sob erupted from your throat right at the minute you realized Alina was right. You didn't listen, this is all my fault. Ivan pulled you back up, roughly smacking a hand over your mouth to stop your pathetic cried of betrayal. You fought a little harder, trashing around in hopes of escaping his hold or at least getting someone's attention but nobody seemed to care. They all feared for their lives.

'All countries will answer to us. For who would oppose us now?' He briefly shot a look in your direction but spared you no emotion. It was then that you saw the real Aleksander, blood-thirsty for power and revenge. The Black Heretic.

Everything you are made you

Everything you aren't

The next five minutes were a complete blur. You somehow found yourself fighting for your life and those around you. Your head was empty of its usual whirling thoughts as survival mode kicked in. Kill or be killed. You stopped counting how many hits you got or how many bruises were forming on your body. It was primal and in your Grisha nature to protect those around you, and in that haste of battle you made your allegiance to Alina obvious.

There was no time to think about Aleksander. You weren't quite sure you wanted to think about him. He was on this skiff with you, on the opposing side that just murdered a town full of people yet the part of your brain, your imagination, craved to be by his side. To please him by obeying, to get his touch in return. You were addicted to the man who had ruined your innocence.

'You betrayed me' His voice was right behind you as was his hand, creeping up the side of your throat and forcefully pushing you against the barrier of the skiff, ready to throw you over to the unlit Fold.

'I betrayed you?!' Your shout was loud and hearty, overflowing with sadness and shame at being relieved for being next to him again. You clawed at his tightening hand, feeling your airways restrict and your vision become fainter and fainter. You would die at the hands of the man you loved.

'Look what you made me do Y/N, do you think I want to kill you?' Your head bopped but your stupid heart grasped at the sadness in his words, he still loves me. 'I don't want to. I really don't'

'Then don't' you chocked out, your hold on his wrists becoming limp. You felt the ever-so familiar touch of his lips grace your temple and then he retreated.

The world went dark but your body hit the deck of the skiff, not the soft sands of the Fold and your lungs abruptly filled with forced Squaller air.

Yes, I did it to myself, yeah

Thought you were somebody else

'What are you going to do now?' You still sat by the fire while everyone stood. Zoya had left your side and was talking with Alina but you filtered out the noise. Your head was too full of your own self-hatred to stand any more voices so Jesper's question to you went unnoticed. 'Y/N?'

You looked at him and shrugged. You didn't want to move, your body still ached too much from being dragged away from the brink of death to make your way somewhere safe.

You would never admit it around anyone, but as Alina spoke of the Darkling being dead, a wave of grief washed over you. It was cold and unpleasant; unwelcome. But you knew love didn't disappear overnight. You didn't know who saved you on the skiff, whether it was he who had let you go, or was it Zoya who battled to have you freed from his grasp.

As much as you had created the Aleksander you viewed, the foundations were all him, you had only added on or omitted the parts you did and didn't like. You prayed it was him who spared you, you prayed there was something real about your Aleksander, that that was a foundation.

The tears that fell down your face in a stream were assumed to be for the betrayal and the horridness of what the Darkling had done to you and others, when if fact they were for him. You cried because you would never see him again, you cried because the people who had helped you get out of the Fold were the same people who had killed him.

-------

When Mal caught your deathly stare in his direction, he had to do a double-take. You had the same look in your eyes as the General did when he fought him in the Fold, that exact replica of coldness and rage; revenge. But surely he was wrong. You were happy to know the Heretic was dead. He betrayed you the most out of everyone here and almost killed you. Why would you be vengeful?

He waved it off with a shake, it's all in my head.

------

Masterlist

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@aleksanderwh0r3 @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx @pansysgirlfriend @justmesadgirl @rosiethefairy @partiesandblurrypolaroids @ashwarren32 @s1xthirty @toujurespure @misselsbells06

[progamermove]

First Kiss

Pairing: Blades of light and shadow (Nia x F!MC Kaisa)

Word count: 1941

Rating: T

Warnings: Action scenes involving blood

Summary: Nia and MC share a quiet moment together after a difficult fight. A re-imagining of their first kiss.

@bladesappreciationweek

xxx

“Kit! I hope you’re coming up with a plan back there and not just leaving the fighting to us,” Mal calls out as he weaves between skeletal bodies, their swords sparking as he parries them with his daggers. Kaisa grunts in reply, her hands frantically tying knots across rope before looping it around a stump of a tree, the remains of the top half splintered. 

“Ready! Lead them my way,” Kaisa shouts, sprinting towards the open chasm, blonde hair whipping behind. Imtura and Tyril immediately act, running after Kaisa and drawing their enemies with them. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Landrat”

“Not at all!”

Imtura lets out an incredulous laugh, allowing a quick glance to her side to see the crazy elf she threw her lot with. Kaisa stood on the edge of the chasm, pale skin glowing from the sweat dotted around her brow and blonde hair windswept and fighting out of the loose ponytail she pulled it in. “Well at least you’re honest,” Imtura remarks, twirling her axes as she faces the horde of enemies running towards them. 

“Got to have more than just my pretty face, you know? With this line of business you never know how long these devilishly good looks will last,” Kaisa grins and finishes the knot around her waist, tugging on the rope. 

The roar of the skeletal figures echo into the forest as they charge forward, closing the distance between the two elves and orc. “Tyril, Imtura, scatter to the sides and push them over. I’m playing bait.” Tyril’s eyes widen, “What do you mean you’re playing bait-” 

“No time to explain, Move!” Tyril and Imtura quickly dash to the side, leaving Kaisa alone at the edge of the chasm, face resolute.

Kaisa takes out an onyx shard, gloved hand protecting her as she waves it in the air. “Hey uglies, I think I have what you’re looking for,” Kaisa beckons the skeletons with a wide grin, blue eyes glinting. They all answer with guttural shrieks, purple energy crackling in their eyes as they focus onto Kaisa, swords and claws extended out. “NOW,” Kaisa bellows as soon as she is surrounded. Nia, who was waiting for the signal behind a tree, pops out and unleashes a wave of light, the air popping as an invisible force hits the crowd of bodies, pushing them over the edge.

Kaisa enjoys the sensation of being weightless for a moment, the blue sky marred by the flailing bodies of the skeletons who follow her over the edge. She just about shoves the onyx shard back into her pouch when the rope goes taunt, abruptly stopping her descent and slams her into the chasm wall, knocking the air out of her lungs. “I- I hope no one saw that,” Kaisa wheezes out, dark spots dancing in front of her eyes as she draws ragged breaths back into her lungs. In her distraction, she didn’t spot the lone skeletal figure who managed to wedge their blade into the wall just below her, slowly climbing up.

“Kaisa, watch out!”

Kaisa looks around dazed, confused by Nia’s warning before she feels a painful tug onto her ankle. The rope dips, dropping Kaisa lower down the chasm, and face to face with the snapping maw of the skeleton whose clawed hands, yellow and grisled, swipes at her face. She jerks back, “woah there,” kicking out at the wall to swing away from the claws. Her body drops again, the rope extending to place her under the skeleton.

“KAISA!”

Imtura and Tyril lunge for the rope, digging their heels into the ground to keep it steady. The tree stump is uprooted and dragged half across the dirt, Mal hugging it to his chest and leaning back with all his weight, desperately trying to keep anchor. “Priestess, pl-please send a message to our dear friend that it would be wise," Mal clenches his teeth, "to start climbing." His feet drag slowly across the ground, deep burrows left in his wake.

The skeleton kicks out at Kaisa, the elf too slow to avoid the metal boot to her face. The crunching sound bounces off the walls as her nose twists to the side, blood gushing down, staining the front of her shirt. Through slitted eyes, Kaisa retaliates with a thrust, her short sword cracking pieces of the skeleton’s rib cage, the bone shards falling into the darkness below. In a desperate act the skeleton jumps from the wall, throwing their body at Kaisa. She grunts as the skeletal frame slams into her, their intertwined forms spinning before crashing into the wall. The rope drops again and Kaisa can hear her friends' shouts get louder.

“No. Free. Rides!” Kaisa shouts as she hacks at the skeleton with her short sword, the blade coming down onto any exposed bone. The skeleton shrieks in outrage, bones splintering and crumbling as the purple energy that keeps it tethered starts to flicker. It gets one last good swipe, jagged nails clawing down the side of Kaisa’s arm, before the light dims completely and the broken bones fall into the abyss. Kaisa's bloodied form alone.

“Thank the light, she’s okay,” Nia whispers, dirt staining her dress as she lay on the floor, peering over the edge. Imtura, Tyril and Mal slowly start to walk backwards, dragging Kaisa back up the wall. As soon as Kaisa is within arm length, Nia offers her hand and helps pull the elf to safety. Kaisa crawls over the edge and immediately collapses onto the floor, eyes closed and chest rising and falling in deep breaths.  

“I’m starting to think that my plans could use a little work.”

“I don't know, some ladies like scars and idiots,” Imtura winks, taking a seat next to Kaisa who still has her eyes closed, "I mean look at Mal." There is a muffled 'Hey' in the distance. 

“I’m not even sure that constituted a plan.” Tyril has an eyebrow raised as he stares down at his bloodstained friend, arms crossed over his chest. 

Kaisa chuckles at Tyril's words before flinching, eyes snapping open. "Sorry, I just wanted to check for any head wounds," Nia murmurs, hand awkwardly hovering above Kaisa's head. 

"You just caught me by surprise," Kaisa's eyes soften, "go ahead."

With permission now, Nia starts to carefully run her hand into Kaisa’s hair, brushing the blonde locks away from the elf’s face and wincing lightly as she feels the drying blood in some of the strands. Kaisa relaxes into her touch, melting under the gentle caress. A warm glow of affection swells in her chest as she watches Kaisa's long ears quiver and dip whenever she tickles near the nape of her neck.

“It seems your nose took the brunt of the damage. Luckily for you, I can fix that easily, ” Nia’s hand starts to glow a soft, white light. Kaisa opens her eyes slightly, unsure when she closed them, "Have I mentioned that you're my favourite?” She drops her voice into a whisper, a playful smile tugging at her lips. As if drawn, Nia glances down at her lips, distracted and flushed. She stutters, failing to respond before clearing her throat and refocusing on her magic. 

The warmth of Nia’s magic envelopes Kaisa and she lets out a soft, content sigh. Before long, she can breathe through her nose again and the copper taste at the back of her throat is gone. 

Instead of moving right away, Kaisa continues to stare up at Nia, a fond look in her eyes and Nia leaves her hand on Kaisa’s cheek, fingers absently stroking. Kaisa could have sworn that Nia’s face was getting closer to her own and she tilted her own head closer, trying to reach up but as she lifted her hand up she was jarred out of the motion by Mal’s voice. 

“As sweet as this is to watch, we should set up camp. Night is about to fall and I don’t know about you but I am exhausted.” Kaisa sits up, feeling her face heat up as she takes in the amused looks of Tyril, Imtura and Mal. Nia has gotten up and busied herself with dusting off her dress, refusing to look at anyone.

“Camp, of course, let us do that.”

Kaisa ignores Mal’s snickers as she gets to her feet and walks away, throwing one last look at Nia before gathering her bag and supplies to help set up camp. The group was practiced at setting up camp at this point, everyone knowing their roles. Imtura went out to gather firewood, Tyril and Kaisa set out the bedrolls and tents for everyone while Nia and Mal sorted through their herb and food storage in preparation for dinner. Threep was content to watch all this unfold, giving his opinion on matters now and again.  Soon enough dinner was ready and everyone was quietly laughing around the campfire, forgetting about the horrors of the day.

“Are you cold?” 

Nia looks to Kaisa, the elf’s smiling face illuminated by the gentle light of the fire, giving her an almost ethereal glow. “Just a little,” the priestess admits with a faint blush, embarrassed. Kaisa shrugs off her cloak and tucks it around Nia, making sure to secure it. “You know, this reminds me of when we first met. I remember telling you that I could help keep you warm,” a playful smile plays across the elf’s lips. “That feels like a lifetime ago,” Nia chuckles. “We were talking about how we wanted to see more of the world and here we are, travelling across the lands to find the onyx shards and stop the shadow court.” She shakes her head, smiling ruefully up at Kaisa. “I can’t say that this is how I envisioned my journey going.”

“Well I’m glad you’re here. With me”

Mal, Imtura and Tyril share a look, nodding silently with one another as they move to their tents. Mal sends a wink to the oblivious pair before ducking into his tent; the two too lost in their own world to notice that everyone has left. Only Threep remains, his sleeping body stretched out in front of the fire, soft purrs heard now and again.

“Kaisa…”

Nia moves closer, her hand coming up to rest on the elf’s face. Kaisa leans into the touch, her arm snaking around Nia’s waist to pull her in. Her thumb brushes across pink lips, tracing the bottom lip almost as if trying to memorise it. “Would you give me this?” Kaisa whispers, her face dipping close. In reply, Nia tilts her head, pressing her lips softly to Kaisa’s. 

It was like coming home. A warmth that not even her magic could compare to as they drank each other in, their lips moving softly against each other, pressed together. Kaisa tugged Nia closer by her waist, pulling the priestess into her lap, her other hand moving to cup the back of her neck. Nia clung to Kaisa’s shoulders, unsure where to place her hands, feeling lightheaded as she became lost in the kiss, her first kiss.

Carefully, Kaisa left Nia’s lips, but never fully separated. Brushing kisses across her cheek before nuzzling into her neck, lips resting against her skin. Nia shuddered at the sensation, her hand creeping into Kaisa’s hair. “It may be selfish, but I’m glad your journey led to me,” she whispered against Nia’s skin. The hand in her hair scratched gently at her scalp, before tightening to tug her face up so she was staring into Nia’s eyes. 

“Me too”

And like a silent prayer, their lips met once more. 

[tatyana-dreaming]

Potenza irresistibile: Leonora is Unstoppable

aka an empowered reading of (yet another) tragic opera heroine

aka my thoughts on Il Trovatore pt 3

(title from Manrico’s line in Act 2: Potenza irresistibile hanno de' fiumi l'onde! - The waves of the rivers have an irresistible force!)

with pictures because I have provided you ample walls of text as it is

Quick aside before we get into the libretto: in part 2 I concluded that both Azucena and Leonora are the only ones who really get what they want in this opera, and I think it’s pretty clear with Azucena... “Sei vendicata, o madre!” (even if we are unclear if she intentionally organized Manrico’s death and/or was conflicted by it or not).

Leonora. “I just came out to have a good time and honestly I’m feeling so attacked right now.” @ Ines, @ di Luna, even @ Manrico at the end

Because, out of everyone in this opera, Leonora is... happy? (I mean, yeah, she’s kind of set 100% of her hopes and dreams on this guy, and when she thinks he’s dead, she’s ready to head to the convent to pray to God until she can be reunited with him in death, saying “un riso, una speranza, un fior la terra non ha per me!”  - earth no longer has for me laughter, hope, or flowers! But look at her circumstances and context, and it’s still a choice she’s making, herself, about how she wants to live. Respect.)

[sociological examination about religious/cultural factors influencing WHY she would make that particular choice: coming to a bookstore near you in 2022]

“I swear go God, Ines (literally, I just did) can you just support me for once and trust me on this” (jk I love Ines she’s just doing her best too)

Okay, but to get back to the point... Leonora just has this sparkle. She’s filled with life and joy and happiness in the beginning (and - while yeah, my 21st century feminist me is like *facepalms* don’t make it dependent on another person, especially not a guy, especially not a guy who isn’t really even that focused on you as a person, but more as a possession he has to jealously protect from Rivals - her joy is revived when Marico returns and honestly thank gosh he does, since otherwise di Luna was gonna wreck those convent plans.) ANYWAYS  - di Luna clearly sees and wants to possess this sparkle, clearly having none of it himself.

Some exerpts from the libretto of this sparkly joy none of the characters ever get....(di Luna tries, haha...“la gioia che m'aspetta, gioia mortal, non è!“ but learns that maybe trying to seize someone against their will isn’t the best way to Spark Joy)

We’ve got Act 1 - “Gioia provai che agl'angeli solo è provar concesso! ...Di tale amor che dirsi mal può dalla parola...”  Joy only the angels can feel...such love that cannot be described by words! - Act 2, upon rescue by/reunion with her beloved - “Non regge a tanto giubilo rapito il cor, sorpreso!”  My surprised heart cannot bear such joy! - and finally, Act 4, once she is certain of saving Manrico - “ Vivrà! Contende il giubilo i detti a me!” He’ll live - my joy strips me of words!

Gosh, for such a tragic opera (if you take it seriously), Leonora is just this bundle of joy. Even in Act 4. It’s impressive.

She just has this energy, and I think it’s some sort of radiance from self-awareness and knowing exactly what she wants. You also may notice Leonora doens’t leave a body count the way di Luna, Manrico, and Azucena do. Well, unless you count herself :( but my point is she’s not about hurting people to get what she wants. And Leonora makes it explicitly clear from Act I: “ S'io non vivrò per esso, per esso morirò” - if I cannot life for him, I will die for him.

Leonora knows what she wants and nothing, NOTHING, and NOBODY is going to get in her way! And HOO BOY does di Luna try! So the convent kidnapping shit he tried to pull with the “not even God can claim [Leonora]” attitude didn’t pan out... but it also proved to Leonora that God wouldn’t necessarily save her (convent-style at least) so she leveled up and remembered OH YEAH PLANTS! *cue Juliet line*:

“ I'll to the friar, to know his remedy: If all else fail, myself have power to die.“

And honestly, she’s badass about it, too. From Act 1, she’s pretty fearless, from the moment Ines expresses fear and doubt about her infatuation with Manrico -

INES: Quanto narrasti di turbamento m'ha piena l'alma! Io temo...   What you say disturbs my soul, I fear [for you!] LEONORA: Invano! [You fear] in vain! (or: don’t fear!)

Leonora’s not afraid. She’s simply on a mission. Once Shit Gets Real and di Luna promises to kill Manrico, maintaining strict alignment with Mission “S'io non vivrò per esso, per esso morirò,”  asking di Luna to “Piombi, piombi il tuo furoresulla rea che t'oltraggiò, vibra il ferro in questo core che te amar non vuol né può”- Let your fury fall on the evil girl who offended you; plunge your sword into this heart that cannot, will not love you!

[again, not condoning Leonora’s choices, such as throwing herself under the ‘di Luna is going to blame Leonora for all his psycho actions’ Bus, but I respect her making her choices and fighting back]

Of course, di Luna is like “YOU CRAZY!” and literally tells Leonora her blood wouldn’t be enough to quell his rage. “l tuo sangue, o sciagurato, ad estinguerlo fia poco!” - Your blood, wretch, would hardly be enough! ~really playing the romance here~ :)

Leonora doesn’t get the point, since in Act 4, she repeats her pleas to exchange her live for Manrico’s - still not getting the Blood is Not Enough memo, apparently - “Svenami, ti bevi il sangue mio!” - Take me out**, drink my blood!

**no, di Luna, she isn’t asking you out on a date (sorry it’s so hard not to just 100% shitpost this opera) - but I couldn’t find a better translation. You don’t really say “faint me” in English and I don’t think the direct translation is “kill” but “take me out” seemed like an acceptable euphemism.

Of course, Leonora ultimately ends up accomplishing her Mission. [Like I said in part 1, my initial reaction to her self-sacrificial death was just anger and disappointment. But in context, she’s pulling a valid Juliet move... her circumstances are awful and suffocating and there are very few ways out for her in the world she lives in... but she ends up exiting the game on her terms.

{At the subjective level, at least. Objectively, her only choices are a vampire who will suck her life dry [di Luna] - in which life might be merciless - or choosing to withdraw from life with Help from Plants [poison] - in which death is merciful. Again, sociological exploration of Leonora’s CHOICE ARCHITECTURE coming to booksellers near you. Might even include Alternate Ending: running away into the mountains with the gypsies instead, but we all know that isn’t part of Mission “S'io non vivrò per esso, per esso morirò.” Plus I think we are all familiar with the concept that as humans we are more likely to stick with the evil we know rather than strike out into the great unknown. Heck, somebody stop me, these asides will be the death by boredom or exasperation of us all. Wait, are you reading this!??! WOW and bless you!! Thanks and I’m sorry}

Unfortunately, Manrico has to be a little turdball and start cursing Leonora, being the jealous self-centered guy that he ultimately is, before he realizes what she’s done to save him. “Manrico I’m literally dying FOR YOU and this is how you repay me?”

In Act 1, she begs di Luna to see reason through his jealous rage, but by Act 4 it’s her own beloved, the person she’s organized her Life Goal around, who is displaying the same jealous, blinding rage, refusing to listen to her. “Oh come l'ira ti rende cieco! Oh quanto ingiusto, crudel, crudel!” Oh how rage blinds you, how injust, how cruel you are [Manrico]!

Oh, the sweet and cruel irony Leonora getting her unconditional, immense, “eternal” love dismissed because Manrico doesn’t get it the way he wanted it [i.e. uh oh are we going to circle back to possessiveness/jealousy? Is Leonora the only one - and granted, she is a little psycho/obsessed/infatuated à la di Luna, but without trying to POSSESS her object of affection -- who can love in a semi-healthy way in this opera?? apparently]. My poor girl. At least Manrico Comes to his Senses before she dies (just in time for him join Leonora’s fate himself). *sad cheering*

Let me end by emphasizing that Leonora did not die JUST to “save Manrico.” Yes, the libretto says “Prima che d'altri vivere, io volli tua morir! “ - Rather than live as another’s, I wanted to die yours. But to me, it’s pretty clear she’s dying for herself - dying as her own self, as hers (I mean, technically she never became Manrico’s “legal property” anyways if we want to get into the morbid lack of womens’ rights, so she wasn’t even “his” in that way). And in the end, choice architecture aside, the point is that all the way, Leonora knew what she wanted, made her own decisions, stayed true to herself, and accomplished what she set her mind to. Nothing and nobody stopped her. Who’s to say what else she might have wanted if she had had different opportunities, choices, knowledge, or most importantly had been born in a different context.

(*faceplams* had been born?!! She’s a fictional character god Karo go to bed already) (*peels hands off face* it’s okay you are processing outrage over the Female Experience and Leonora represents a lot of real women, living and dead)

I conclude. LEONORA IS UNSTOPPABLE. Let’s part with some lovely lines from our complex (if a bit compulsively devoted), tragic, yet joyful, empowered, and fearless heroine:

Tu vedrai che amore in terra mai del mio non fu più forte: vinse il fato in aspra guerra, vincerà la stessa morte. 

You will see that never on earth was there a stronger love than mine; it defeated Fate in violent strife, it will defeat death itself.

*              *              *              *              *               *              *             *        

Screencaps from IL Trovatore (Met 2011) ft. Sondra Radvanovsky, Dmitri Hvorostovsky, and Marcelo Álvarez

[godess-ofthe-underworld]

Love Finds Away

(sequel to “see You Again) ( A Harry Hook x reader story)

Part 10

When the dresses were all delivered and Evie Hadley and Ruby were ready, they headed down to the docks.

The whole way there Hadley couldn't stop staring at the Isle, only hoping that he felt the same way she did. She toyed with her necklace, not having the guts to take it off, but this time instead of tucking it away from view, she let it dangle over the top of her dress. Evie and Ruby both noticed her sullen look and shared a glance themselves.

Making their way up the docks, music and lights were blaring, causing Hadley to squint until her eyes adjusted. A blue velvet carpet lined the entire dock, leading to the massive yacht that cotillion was being held on.

The blue carpet was lined with press from start to finish. Hadley put on a fake smile as they stepped up the camera flashes momentarily blinding her.

Evie, being the natural when it comes to this sort of thing, took the lead with Doug, who had joined them at some point.

Hadley stood back allowing Evie to answer the questions being thrown their way. Just before they reached the ship they stopped in front of a group of reporters

"Evie! Hadley! You both look gorgeous tonight!"

"Did you design the hair accessories and Hadleys arm band?"

"No actually." Evie started touching the clip in her hair. " All of the accessories tonight were made by a very special person, Miss Dizzy of the Isle" Evie smiled into the camera knowing Dizzy would be watching for them.

They moved on after answering a few more questions.

Stepping onto the boat the music was louder and the main deck and upper deck were crowded with students dancing away.

Hadley found herself looking out at the isle. Which was in clear view from the side of the ship. She watched as the thunder and lighting rumbled.

Ruby linked arms with her startling her out of her gaze. She pulled Hadley to the middle with the others waiting for Mal to arrive.

Small chatter was exchanged until the guards along the stairs raised their trumpets to signal her arrival.

"The future Lady Mal" Lumiere proudly announced.

The whole deck erupted in applause as Mal stood at the top of the stairs.

Her once full ball gown dress was now cut into a high-low fashion, the front hem doned the same royal blue lace as the bodice and her shoes stood proud and tall. Her recently dyed purple hair was braided down the side and over her shoulder with tiny accents in between each weave.

She slowly made her way down the steps a look of pure terror on her face as everyone's eyes watched her every move.

Evie stepped forward to greet her at the bottom.

She took Mals hand and walked her to the center of the deck.

"How are you feeling?" Hadley asked as they reached them.

Mal gave a nervous smile.

" you know… kinda like.im going to throw up.."

The five chuckled lightly as the guards raised the trumpets again.

"King Benjamin" Lumiere announced as Ben made it to the top of the steps.

The whole ship thundered with applause as he made his way down the steps, rather quickly as Hadley observed.

Mal met him at the bottom smiling up at him, but his smile wasn't present.

"Mal, I really wish i had time to explain"

The spotlight shone at the top of the steps. There was a collective gasp from everyone on deck.

Ums stood at the top step in a beautiful teal mermaid style dress. Seashells and other sea accents adorned the frilly teal ruching. Her long braids had been carefully tied into a neat bun on the top of her head.

Ben smiled wide as Uma began walking down the stairs and jogged up the first few taking her hand and helping her down the rest of the stairs.

He stopped them at the last step and bowed to her kissing the gold ring that used to be on Mal's finger.

Uma giggled as he stood straight and took her hand leading her out to the center of the deck and right up to Mal.

Hadley completely droned out the conversation about Uma diving through the barrier and what not, claiming that she was in love with Ben and he with her.

When the two began dancing Mal curled into herself, hurt etched all over her features. Hadley rushed to Mals' side as did Evie. The two clung to her shoulders trying to comfort her. The boys huddled as well rubbing Mals arms.

"Ya know I'm not too thrilled I risked my life for him," Carlos said a little louder than the music playing.

Lonnie came up behind Mal holding Ruby's hand.

"We're with you Mal" Lonnie said as Ruby nodded.

Jay placed a hand on the small of Mals back and started leading her to the steps.

"Come on. Let's get outta here."

The others agreed following the two.

Just as they reached the bottom of the steps, Uma stopped dancing with Ben turing to the retreating vks.

"Hey, Hadley." Uma spoke over the music.

Hadley stopped when she heard her name, the rest following.

"What Uma?" Hadley nearly growled; in her anger Hadley's hair sparked and ignited.

"He feels the same way ya know."

Hadley's look of anger quickly morphed into one of confusion, her hair still holding a faint glow.

Uma smiled "But don't take my word for it."

Uma looked to the top of the staircase with a large smile. Hadley and the rest followed her gaze.

Hadley nearly stumbled holding on to Carlo's jacket to steady herself, her jaw dropping.

Everyone around the ship's deck was gasping and whispering. The other vks looked just as stunned as Hadley, looking from her to the top of the stairs.

Harry was nearly unrecognizable; his Isle clothes had been traded for a burgundy suit matching blazer and pants, white button up shirt and black vest. His usually out of control hair was neatly side swiped. Hadley noticed that he still had on his boots.

Harry's eyes, which still had a bit of eyeliner still around them, searched the group at the bottom before locking with Hadleys.

He made his way down the steps, the vks parting when he made it to them giving him a path to Hadley, but watching his every move. Lonnie put a hand on Jay's shoulder when he went to lunge.

Hadley took a step back when Harry reached her.

"Harry… what.. What are you doing here?" Hadley stuttered.

"I had ta know if it was true." He mumbled.

"If what was true?" Hadley asked.

"What ya said on the Isle, right before ya tossed me hook over the dock. When ya said ya.. ya love me… i need ta know if it was jus' a trick ta get away or if ya really mean it." Harry's eyes bore into hers. She thought she almost saw a tear. She could hear the people closest to her begin whispering wildy.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed her friends starting to head up the stairs and saw Evie nod in her direction. Hadley placed a hand on his arm guiding them to a more secluded corner. Hadley looked at her hands as she dropped her arm, nervously twisting the rings around her fingers.

"It wasn't a trick Har, just really bad timing now that I think about it." Hadley let out a small breathy laugh. She could see Harry's shoulders drop slightly. "But it was never a trick." Hadley looked up at him. "It's true, I do love you. I've loved you for a long time; I just… never knew how to tell you." She looked down at her hands.

"I never wanted to risk losing you. You've been my best friend for a long time and you've never failed to make a day better." She looked up at him.

"Har, you're the one thing that has kept me going since I left." She let out a watery laugh, with tears welling in her eyes.

"I love you."

Harry cradled her jaw with his palm as his thumb gently glided across her cheek. Hadley closed her eyes leaning into it.

"Haddie… I … I love you too."

Hadley's heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

Harry ducked his head slowly bringing it closer to hers. He was close enough that she could still smell the sea and metal permeating from his jacket.

She sucked in a sharp breath just as his lips were about to collide with hers.

However…. Their moment was interrupted by a shriek coming from the deck.

Gotta love cliffhangers.... I can’t believe we’re already on part 10! If if you liked part 10 please comment and like for part 11.  As always, you can read the illustrated version over on my Wattpad (@phelpsphan).  If you would like to be added to the tag list please message me!

Summary: You would think that six months in Auradon would do any villain kid good.  Well, not Hadley.  After the events of the Coronation, Hadley's mood took a downward spiral; and for one reason, guilt.  She'd broken a promise and left her best friend on the Isle of the Lost.  How will she handle seeing him again when certain circumstances bring her back to the Isle? Will she finally tell him what she really feels?  

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in Descendants.  Hadley and the plot between her and Harry are mine. 

Tag list: @unded-bride , @fangirlforever2412 , @itsnottilly 

[blightarts]

Blades of Order & Chaos

Chapter Title: 1 - Awakening

Previous Chapter: Prologue

Word Count: 4375

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Pixelberry. This is my version for the upcoming sequel of Blades of Light & Shadow. I am not claiming this to be the canon story of the book. This is only written to increase the hype for the actual sequel.

MC/Pairing: Kite (Blue Elf Male MC) / Kite x Nia

Taglist: @princessstellaris @mechaspirit @brightningstar @cal-north @mahariel-theirin @lxdy-starfury @tyrils-star @imturaxamara @kelseaaa

Everyone in the throne room stare in awe as the last surviving member of the Shadow Court, Sir Laundsellyn, reveals his true identity.

Sir Laundsellyn: Well, if you must know… My real name… is Lucius Nightbloom.

Kite grits his teeth, equipping the Bow of Gal’dariel in hand and drawing an arrow towards his supposed relative.

Kite: As if I’d believe such a superstition!

He lets the arrow loose as it rides the wind, making its way towards Laundsellyn’s head, but the shadow knight quickly parries it with the Blade of Light.

Sir Laundsellyn: You’re quick on your hands, I’ll give you that…

He smirks maniacally.

Sir Laundesllyn: …But not quick enough…

Laundsellyn brandishes the Blade and coats it with darkness, transforming it back into the Blade of Shadow, again leaving everyone appalled.

Mal: After all of Nia’s efforts of purify that thing…

Tyril: …Gone, in an instant…

Kite and his friends seethe in rage.

Imtura: Okay, that’s it!

Imtura charges forward, followed by Mal and Tyril. King Arlan’s guards do the same, but Laundsellyn remains unfazed. He sighs and snaps his fingers, letting his hovering swords loose. While Laundsellyn clash with Kite’s friends, his swords fly across the room and towards the guards. The swords easily pierce through their armor and their hearts, killing them instantly. As the dead soldiers collapse on the floor, the swords make their way towards King Arlan next.

Kite: Not on my watch!

Kite quickly stands in the way between the swords and the King while equipping the Blade of Sol and the Shield of Castiel. One by one, the elf parries and shatters the hovering blades, but unsuspectingly, one bolts past his face, leaving a wound on his cheek, and pierces through King Arlan’s heart.

King Arlan: Ack!!

Meanwhile, in the prisons of Whitetower, Aerin clutches his chest and crouches down, as it starts paining.

Aerin: What… is… this…?!

He turns to the barred window in his cell, showing the castle under attack, and wonders anxiously.

Aerin: Father…

Back in the throne room, as King Arlan collapses, Kite quickly runs to his aid.

Kite: NOOO!!!

Mal, Tyril and Imtura turn for a moment to witness what Laundsellyn had just done. They then face him with deadly glares.

Mal: You bastard!

Tyril: You’ll pay for that!

Imtura: AAAAAAAARRRRRGGHHH!!!

As the three recklessly attempt to land a strike on the shadow knight, who just yawns at them, Kite gets on his knees and tries his best to help the King.

Kite: Your Highness, it’s okay. You’ll live.

King Arlan coughs up blood and gives Kite a reassuring smile.

King Arlan: It’s… too late for me now, Kite…

He reaches for the elf’s hand and grips it tight while both men are in tears.

King Arlan: Save the Realm… Save every… one…

The light fades from the King’s eyes as Kite grits his teeth in pure rage. He closes Arlan’s eyes and gently lays him on the floor, before turning to Laundsellyn with a glare.

Kite: I’ve had enough…

Channeling an Orb of Light in his hand, the elf stands up and walks towards the shadow knight, who knocks back Mal, Tyril and Imtura with a blast of Shadow magic from the Blade of Shadow.

Kite: Laundsellyn!

Laundsellyn notices Kite approaching him and smirks.

Sir Laundsellyn: Oh, are you approaching me? Instead of running away, you are approaching me. Even though with your allies incapacitated and your strongest weapon now in my possession, you still muster the courage to face me, the most powerful Shadow being?

The Orb of Light in Kite’s hand glows brighter as he gets closer.

Kite: I cannot slay you without getting closer.

Laundsellyn chuckles.

Sir Laundsellyn: Oho! Such foolish bravery. Then come at me as close as you like.

He approaches Kite at the same pace. When the two are only a meter apart, Kite drives one of his open hands, surging with Light energy, towards Laundsellyn. However, the shadow knight dodges in time, gets behind Kite and hits him on the back with the hilt of the Blade of Shadow. The elf gets knocked down on the ground.

Sir Laundsellyn: Too slow! Even with the power of the Light on your side, if your speed cannot match mine, you have no chance against me. You would’ve been dead by now.

Kite persistently stands up and faces Laundsellyn once more.

Kite: Are you sure you want to give pointers to an opponent?

Laundsellyn shrugs.

Sir Laundsellyn: Weaklings bore me. I’d like to have a challenge, and seeing how you’re the strongest among your friends, I figured you’d at least entertain me. But you’re just as disappointing as them.

Having enough of the shadow knight’s insults, Kite channels another Orb of Light in his right hand and Cleansing Fire in his left hand.

Kite: You have no need the right to talk anymore.

He clasps his hands together, fusing the both magical spells together into a more powerful one, which surprises and almost blinds everyone else in the room.

Tyril: Amazing! Kite is performing Coalescence Magic.

Mal: What is that?

Threep: A rare concept of magical where two spells are fused together to create a stronger spell.

Imtura: That’s awesome!

Loola: What makes it rare is that it requires two or more mages with incredibly high magical affinity to perform such magic, but since Kite is able to perform it on his own makes him a very powerful magic caster.

Kade grins and raises his fist up high.

Kade: Go get ‘em, brother!

While Kite’s friends cheer him on, Laundsellyn smirks and claps.

Sir Laundsellyn: Yes, that’s it! You’re growing so quickly. Now…

Laundsellyn puts his left hand forward, channeling Shadow Magic on his palm.

Sir Laundsellyn: Let’s see how strong you really are.

Kite turns to his friends while continuing to channel his spell.

Kite: Get everyone else behind me!

Mal, Tyril and Imtura nod in agreement before splitting up. Mal helps Kade carry Nia, Tyril and Loola use their magic to transport the guards’ corpses, and Imtura lifts King Arlan’s corpse and taking him behind Kite. Cleared of casualties in front of him, Kite is ready to fire his spell.

Kite: It’s time!

Laundsellyn grins.

Sir Laundsellyn: Nothing holding you back now, eh? Well, if you are giving it your all, perhaps I should too.

The shadow knight opens his hand wider, channeling Light Magic along with his already channeling Shadow Magic, astonishing everyone.

Loola: How can that be?!

Tyril: Light and Shadow Magic should not be able to coalesce with each other, since they erase each other when channeled together!

Laundsellyn laughs at the comments made.

Sir Laundsellyn: Did you fools forget that I am the descendant of the one who can channel both Magics together?!

The Light and Shadow energies merge into a far stronger type of magic while Laundsellyn continues his explanation.

Sir Laundsellyn: When the Light and Shadows become one, they create the most powerful type of magic that has ever existed; Chaos Magic.

White and black sparks begins to surge across Laundsellyn’s arm as he is ready to release his spell.

Kite: Brace yourselves!

Both Kite and Laundsellyn unleash their magic.

Kite: Coalescence Magic: Blinding Brilliance – Radiant Inferno!

Sir Laundsellyn: Chaos Magic: Rejection Pulse!

Kite thrusts his hands forward, releasing a wave of bright, yellow flames towards Laundsellyn, who in turn, quickly clenches his fist, unleashing a shockwave, infused with both Light and Shadow Magic. Both spells clash furiously, while both casters maintain their stance to keep their spells intact. However, Kite is struggling to keep himself standing.

Kite: I can’t… hold it… much longer…!

Mal, Tyril and Imtura immediately rush into his aid by placing their hands on his shoulders and back.

Mal: We got you, kit!

Tyril: Keep fighting!

Imtura: Show that coward not to mess with us!

Kite turns to his friends.

Kite: Everyone…

The elf nods with a grin before turning back to Laundsellyn. Together, the four scream with determination while the shadow knight smiles.

Sir Laundsellyn: Ah, yes. The power of friendship… how admirable. However…!

Laundsellyn thrusts his spell-casting arm forward, adding more force into the push of his Chaotic Pulse, causing Kite’s flames to be driven back.

Sir Laundsellyn: It’s all for naught!

In a panic, Kite and his friends push further and yell their hearts out louder, but it is all a waste as Laundsellyn’s spell eventually reaches them, throwing everyone back. Kite lands and skids across the floor while Imtura crashes against the wall, before landing on the ground, unconscious. While Mal is thrown back, Tyril collides with him, rendering both unconscious as they collapse on the ground.

Kade: Guys!

Kite struggles to stand up but is unsuccessful. Laundsellyn shrugs and shakes his head.

Sir Laundsellyn: My goodness, that was really tiring. As much as I love a good challenge, I really don’t want to stay in a fight for too long, or else it would get very dull.

He then turns to Kade, holding an unsconscious Nia in his arms.

Sir Laundsellyn: Now, hand over that elegant priestess, if you please? She’s worth more than what the Dreadlord believes.

Kade grits his teeth and glares at Laundsellyn while Threep and Loola gets in between them.

Kade: You won’t get near Nia. Not again, you Shadow Court scum!

Threep: She has been through a lot. Leave her alone!

Loola: We won’t allow you to harm our dear Priestess anymore!

Laundsellyn sighs and swings the Blade of Shadow, letting out a strong force to ward off Threep and Loola. They land next to Mal, Tyril and Imtura.

Sir Laundsellyn: This is boring me. Will you just hand me the priestess? It will be easy for everyone.

Kade looks around and spots one of the guards’ swords. He grabs it and points it towards Laundsellyn.

Kade: S-Stay back…!

With a flick of a finger, Laundsellyn easily disarms Kade before kicking him on the face, causing a nosebleed and letting the bard’s grip on Nia go as he is thrown back by the sheer force of the kick. Kite despairs at the sight of his brother’s pain.

Kite: KAAAAAAADE!!!

Laundsellyn marvels in his victory before crouching down beside Nia. He starts to reach for her but not before being struck by a fireball at his back. He turns to Kite, annoyed. The elf has his hand out, just finished casting Cleansing Fire at the shadow knight.

Sir Laundsellyn: You’re starting to get in my nerves, boy!

Laundsellyn hurls the Blade of Shadow and it pierces the ground, just right in front of Kite. The floor starts to crack then collapses, causing Kite to fall bellow.

Sir Laundsellyn: Tch! Good riddance.

With no further interruptions, Laundsellyn reaches for Nia once more, however…

GLEAM!!

…Nia’s eyes burst open, glowing brightly, as overwhelming amounts of Light energy surges through her, taking Laundsellyn by surprise as he steps back.

Sir Laundsellyn: This is…!

Nia raises herself from the ground, beginning to hover, before turning to Laundsellyn with rage in her Light-filled eyes. The shadow knight grins.

Sir Laundsellyn: Well, well, well… It’s been two thousand years… Priestess of the Light.

Laundsellyn takes a stance, ready to face Nia while she starts speaking and behaving like someone else entirely.

Nia: Lucius Nightbloom, you have done enough. Prepare to repent for your sins.

Laundsellyn pulls his swordarm back, preparing to stab Nia.

Sir Laundsellyn: Not planning too, milady. I’d rather slay you a second time.

More knights of Whitetower enter the throne room.

Knight 1: Halt!

They spot King Arlan, dead on the carpet.

Knight 2: The King is dead!

Knight 3: Slay the shadow dweller!

The knights begin to charge towards Laundsellyn but he was more focused on Nia as he dashes towards her, thrusting the Blade of Shadow forward, but the priestess evades the attack in the nick of time. Laundsellyn cannot stop his momentum as he continues to advance forward.

Nia: History shall not repeat itself this time, foolish deserter.

Nia blasts Laundsellyn with a large Orb of Light, propelling him outside the castle and into the sky. She then turns to the knights.

Nia: Tend to the wounded. I shall handle Laundsellyn myself.

The knights nod in confusion and do as they are told while Nia follows Laundsellyn outside.

Sir Laundsellyn: Ah! That hurt a lot!

Unfazed by the painful attack, Laundsellyn stops his trajectory by conjuring wings made with Shadow Magic and hovers in the air. Nia follows him and floats in front of him, putting her hand forward, ready to blast him once more.

Nia: Surrender and face punishment, Lucius. You have nothing else to do.

Laundsellyn chuckles and pretends to lay down, like he’s on a hammock.

Sir Laundsellyn: I would rather not. Besides, you are not my only goal here. What’s more important to me is reclaiming this.

He brandishes the Blade of Shadow as it hovers in front of him. Nia, realizing what the Blade can do, fires another Orb of Light towards Laundsellyn, who easily evades it this time.

Sir Laundsellyn: You cannot stop fate, Priestess, especially when it’s the return of the “Fateseeker”!

Laundsellyn channels Shadow energy in his hand.

Sir Laundsellyn: Shadow Magic: Relinquish!

He then snaps his fingers, fueled with Shadow magic, creating four duplicates of the Blade of Shadow.

Nia: I won’t let you!

Nia advances forward, trying to reach out to Laundsellyn with an Orb of Light being conjured in her hand.

Sir Laundsellyn: Too slow!

Laundsellyn uses the original Blade to block Nia’s attack while he hurls its duplicates in different directions.

Nia: NOO!!

The first duplicate Blade flies to the north, beyond Morella and towards the snowy mountains. The Blade lands on one of the peaks, breaking a seal, causing it to crumble and summoning a blue beam of light which pierces the sky. From the debris, a figure walks out, with the body of a human, the head of a hawk, and large feathered wings on his back. The figure takes a deep breath and spreads his wings, as if he’s waking from a very long nap.

Winged Figure: Millenia had passed… How are you faring after all this time, my love…?

The second Blade ventures to the  distant west, past Flotilla and toward the uninhabited volcanic island of Kel’Dhana, the former home of the orcs. The Blade plunges itself in the core of the volcano, breaking its seal, causing an eruption and summoning an orange beam of light which cleaves the sky. From the mouth of the volcano, an abnormally large orc clad in obsidian climbs out. Steam escapes his nose as he attempts to speak.

Obsidian Orc: It has been… too long… I crave for some destruction!

The third Blade glides to the far east, past the poison fields then towards the ruined and cursed city of Necropolis, home of the vhampyrs which is surrounded by a magical barrier. The Blade pierces through the barrier, shattering it, and opening the world to the city and its inhabitants. Each coffin inside the city bursts open, letting out the imprisoned monsters, and their leader, the Beast of Blood.

Beast of Blood: Hungrrryyyyyyy….

The fourth and final Blade flies to the south, in the barren wastelands of Zaradun. The Blade buries itself in the sand, searching for something underneath. Soon, it reaches the treasure room of an ancient dungeon and plunges itself in front of a decrepit machine. A seal breaks and a yellow beam of light drills through the ceiling and the sand before finally reaching the sky. The machine begins to move but then collapses, leaving some sort of golden cocoon in its debris. The cocoon then cracks open and from inside, unveiling a short woman inside with a sadistic smile.

Woman: My, my… after thousands of years… I’m finally free.

She fiendishly licks her index finger before spreading her arms wide. Golden webs begin to shoot out from the tips of her fingers, latching onto the walls of the dungeon.

Woman: I wonder what marvelous treasures the future has brought for me!

The women pulls the webs and the dungeon begins to collapse in on itself.

Back in Whitetower, Nia notices the four beams of light in all directions before turning to Laundsellyn.

Nia: What have you done?!

Laundsellyn pulls out a devilish grin before quickly floating upwards, avoiding Nia’s attack. The priestess glares at the shadow knight.

Sir Laundsellyn: Unleashed the Lieutenants of the Empire upon this realm!

Laundsellyn aims the Blade of Shadow towards Nia and hurls it at her, but she quickly evades it.

Nia: You cannot kill me again, Lucius!

Sir Laundsellyn: Who says I was aiming for you?

Realizing that the missed attack was intended, Nia turns to the Blade which is currently opening a portal to the Shadow Realm. Before she could act, Laundsellyn swiftly zooms past her, entering the portal and closing it immediately.

Nia: This cannot be…

Nia looks back at the beams of light in despair as they vanish.

Nia: The Empire… has returned…

The glowing light in her eyes start to flicker while the aura surrounding her begins to fade slowly.

Nia: This vessel’s companions… They are the key…

As Nia hovers towards the castle’s throne room, she speaks to herself through telepathy.

Nia: Nia Ellarious, your friends. Protect them. They are essential to the Empire’s defeat.

Once she reaches the room, she uses her Light magic to heal everyone who is still alive while lifting an unconscious Kite from the hole that Laundsellyn made. The knights, on the other hand, mourn the death of King Arlan and their fellow soldiers while they kneel by their corpses.

Nia: Protect Kite Nightbloom most of all. He carries the blood of the one who once defeated the ‘Fateseeker’.

Once Nia completely heals her friends, she gently lands on the ground and returns to her former self.

Nia: Huh? Where am I?

She turns to her friends groaning and coming back to their senses.

Nia: Everyone!

The priestess tends to each of her friends, making sure they are okay, especially Kite, but sees that the wounds they sustained during the battle against Laundsellyn were all gone.

Kade: Urgh… what happened…?

Mal: Did we win…?

Loola: I’m afraid not.

Tyril: My head hurts…

Imtura: My back hurts…

Threep: My stomach hurts… I’m famished…

Kite sits up and looks around for Laundsellyn.

Kite: Where’s that bastard?!

Nia gently and worriedly grabs Kite’s arms while she thinks back to what was said to her when she was not herself earlier.

Nia: Kite, it’s okay. He’s gone.

Kade: Like “dead” gone?

The priestess shakes her head in disagreement, disappointing the others and Kite most of all.

Kite: He stole the Blade of Light, and turned it back into that blasted Blade of Shadow.

Tyril: We have to reclaim it.

Nia: That is not our main concern now.

The group turns to Nia.

Mal: What do you mean, priestess?

Nia: I don’t know what happened but… when I was facing Laundsellyn…

The whole group was surprised that Nia had to face off against the shadow knight alone.

Imtura: Wait, you fought him while we were out cold?!

Mal: And you even sent him packing. Nice work, Nia!

Nia’s friends praise her for fending off Laundsellyn, however, she looks down, more concerned with what he has done.

Nia: That’s not important right now…

Kite notices uneasiness in his beloved’s eyes to which he responds by wrapping his arms around her.

Kite: What did he do, Nia?

Nia gulps and looks into Kite’s eyes.

Nia: He has unleashed the Lieutenants of the Empire…

Silence fills the room as Threep and Loola’s furs stand and shivers run down their spines.

Kade: Who are the Lieutenants?

Loola hovers on top of Kade and sits on his head.

Loola: The Lieutenants are considered to be the strongest soldiers of the Empire of Ash and the most trusted associates of the “Fateseeker”. After the Empire’s fall, they were sealed away, frozen in suspended animation.

Threep sits on Nia’s shoulder and helps Kite in comforting her while explaining who the Lieutenants are.

Threep: They are a total of four Lieutenants, but with Laundsellyn serving the Empire, you could say that he is now the fifth Lieutenant.

Everyone tries to process everything that just happened to them ever since the night before.

Tyril: This is just…

Imtura: …a lot to bear…?

Tyril nods at what Imtura said. Everyone turns to Kite.

Mal: What do you think we should do, kit?

Kite gulps, struggling to think of a plan, before looking at Threep.

Kite: Where were the Lieutenants sealed away?

The nesper shakes his head.

Threep: I am not certain, but they were imprisoned outside the borders of Morella; one in the north, somewhere in the mountains; another is in the east, in the cursed city of Necropolis…

Tyril is surprised at the mention of Necropolis.

Tyril: The home of the vhampyrs?

Threep: Yes.

The elf thinks back to his dream about his ancestor, Farin Starfury, facing off against her supposed brother and leader of the vhampyrs, the Beast of Blood. Threep continues to tell the group where the other Lieutenants were sealed away.

Threep: As I was saying, the third is located south of Morella, somewhere in the Zaradun Wastelands. This Lieutenant was sealed by the dwarves in an ancient dungeon but it costed them their lives, which ended with the dungeon being buried in the sands.

Mal freezes at the mention of an ancient dungeon underneath the Zaradun Wastelands. He speculates and worries if that was the same dungeon he explored prior to his retirement a few years ago. Threep goes on.

Threep: And lastly, the fourth is sealed deep within the volcanic island of K’ell Dhana, the former home of the orcs. Whoever was sealed there was believed to be the cause of the island’s destruction, prompting the orcs to relocate to where Flotilla is now.

Imtura recalls her nightmarish vision, regarding Flotilla’s destruction, and starts to wonder whether its linked to whoever was sealed in K’ell Dhana. Kite notices the disturbed expressions of some of his friends.

Kite: You guys okay? You’ve been having the same anxious faces since this morning.

Mal, Tyril and Imtura look at each other, understanding that each of them had seen something horrifying the previous night. They all turn to Kite and the rest of their friends.

Mal: Well, you see, kit…

Imtura: You weren’t the only one who had a weird dream about something related to the Empire of Ash.

Tyril: I believe that what Mal and Imtura are saying… The three of us must’ve dreamt or seen something related to each of the Lieutenants.

Kite is about to ask them about what happened but the acting leader of the knights approach the group.

Knight Leader: Brave heroes, the King is gone and the citizens are panicking because of the appearance of the shadow dweller and the beams of light that occurred in the horizons. We must act quickly. What do you suppose we should do?

The group turns to Kite.

Kite: What?

Kade: We trust your intuition, Kite. What should we do?

Kite shakes his head.

Kite: No, no, no. I may be the best among us, but I’m not a leader.

Nia: Well, we trust you in these situations because you’re the bravest among us as well.

Mal: Yeah, you were still the only one to keep pissing off Laundry Boy when he was about to abduct Nia and the one to receive the “drop you down the floor” treatment.

Tyril nudges Mal for ruining the moment.

Kade: Point is that we’ll follow you to the bitter end.

Imtura: Aye!

Kite looks at his friends and nods at them with determination.

Kite: Alright, I’ll think of something.

He turns to Threep and Loola.

Kite: Which do you guys think is the closest Lieutenant to Morella?

Loola: We believe it is the one sealed in K’ell Dhana.

Kite then turns to Imtura.

Kite: Imtura, get a ship ready. We sail as soon as possible.

Imtura: Spoken like a true captain, landrat!

Kite grins as Imtura points to one of the knights.

Imtura: You!

Knight 3: Eek! Y-Yes, ma’am?

Imtura: Take me to your harbor!

Knight 3: U-U-Understood!

The knight frantically runs and leads the orc towards the Whitetower Harbor. Meanwhile, Kite turns to the knight leader.

Kite: Keep the citizens safe in one location. If we do not return in a day, evacuate the whole city. As of now, we are dealing with a threat far worse than the Shadow Court.

The knight salutes in understanding.

Knight Leader: Understood.

He signals his underlings to move out as they carry King Arlan and their comrades’ corpses. Kite and his friends hurry to the port. Nia smiles at him.

Nia: That was amazing, Kite.

Kite: Thank you, Nia.

The group reaches the harbor with Imtura and the knight readying one of the ships. She spots her friends.

Imtura: Ah, just in time!

The knight gets off the boat while the group gets on it.

Knight 3: Fortune favor you, brave heroes. May the Light be with you.

Kite nods at the knight as he and his friends set sail towards Flotilla.

Imtura: Next stop, Flotilla!

The group stares into the vast ocean, bracing themselves for what’s about to come.

Meanwhile in the prisons of Whitetower, Aerin sits clumsily in his cell, still clutching his heart while screams of panicking citizens flood his ears.

Aerin: What… What is happening? Why is my chest still paining?!

He jumps in surprise when a portal to the Shadow Realm opens on front of him. Laundsellyn steps out of it.

Sir Laundsellyn: Ah, there you are.

Aerin recognizes the shadow knight and glares at him.

Aerin: You!

Sir Laundsellyn: …Was it something I did?

Laundsellyn shakes his head.

Sir Laundsellyn: Doesn’t matter.

Aerin clenches his fist and attempts to land a punch.

Aerin: Stay back, heathen!

But Laundsellyn catches his fist and knocks him unconscious with the hilt of the Blade of Shadow.

Sir Laundsellyn: We have much to discuss, Prince Aerin. I hope you are willing to listen.

The shadow knight drags the prince towards the portal, entering the Shadow Realm, before it closes.

––––– END OF CHAPTER –––––

[toglidethroughlife]

Brighter Than Any Star:

An intimate look at everyone’s new favorite bass player

(or the blades band au that nobody asked for)

*inspired by @iaraiumi‘s STUNNING guitarist tyril art (here)

tyril-centric and tyril x mc bc this would be 7k+ words if i didn’t focus on just one of them but i tried to give everyone a moment in the spotlight. credits to a fic i read from the 100 fandom years ago for the format

used my f!elf mc ryllea graywater for this (though i guess this is kind of a modern au idk asjdla); also i don’t play any musical instruments i’m sorry in advance for butchering any of the technical parts 😬

Tyril Starfury — with his red silk shirts and slicked back hair — looks every bit the part of a rock god on stage with the rest of BLADES; but here, in the confines of their tour bus, he is a quiet presence, calmly sipping tea in the corner with a notepad and pen in his hands, his mind far away in the early hours of the morning.

If you had told me eighteen months ago that I would be shadowing Broadway darling Tyril Starfury as he traveled cross-country with his new rock band, I would have laughed and called you preposterous.

And yet, here I am, witness to the madness.

Nia Ellarious, the band’s youngest member and resident pianist, offers me a cup of the same tea as Starfury’s, telling me to enjoy the quiet with an almost apologetic smile.

I understand what she means not long after.

(There’s no such thing as a quiet morning in the world of Mal Volari.)

Every bit as charming and flamboyant as his on-stage persona, Volari greets the entire bus a good morning with flourish, throwing both me and Ellarious a magnetic smile before slipping towards the coffee machine with exceptionally light feet. (More on that later.) He taps on every available surface while he waits for his coffee to brew, humming softly as if figuring out a melody right there on the spot.

If Starfury is bothered by Volari’s banging and humming, he makes no show of it, paying him no mind as he continues to scribble in his notepad.

Ellarious beams as the scene plays out in front of her. “It’s not every day that they don’t get on each other’s nerves,” she explains. “Especially in the morning.”

It’s around this time — almost noon now — that Ryllea Graywater, lead guitarist and vocalist, wakes and joins the group, heading straight towards Volari and the cup of coffee in his hand.

“Thanks,” she winks as she takes the cup from him, shooting Volari a shit-eating grin that he returns easily, already procuring another cup for himself.

It should be noted that Graywater doesn’t seem to talk to anyone until she’s had at least one cup of coffee, choosing instead to slide in beside Starfury in the dining booth, eyes darting towards the notepad he’s writing on. They kind of just... sit there, minding their own business amidst the chaos that is the rest of the bus.

(Volari’s launched into an animated story about the inspiration behind last year’s summer hit, “Contessa, Contessa”, but I can’t help being drawn to the more quiet story unfolding behind him in the dining booth.)

Slinging one arm against the backrest of Starfury’s seat, Graywater casually invites herself into his space, a thoughtful smile on her lips as she looks over the notepad in his hand. There’s an openness between them that tells me that this isn’t a new occurrence, a comfortable ease in the way they seem to be engaging in a wordless conversation.

“He’s kind of really private,” I recall the younger Starfury sibling, Adrina, telling me about his creative process years ago, at the release party for his collab album with then rumored girlfriend and writing partner Kaya Duskraven. “He’s always been a perfectionist. Doesn’t really let anyone other than Kaya hear anything until it’s finished.”

But there’s no trace of that here, in this quiet moment with Graywater, bright, almost triumphant smiles on their faces as she picks up a pen and scribbles something on the pad too, immediately tapping out a melody against the table as if to test-run it by Starfury.

The smile he gives her is glowing.

I look away — suddenly feeling like an intruder in their private moment — catching the tail-end of Volari’s Contessa story, right before Imtura (no publicly released surname) accidentally slams me against the wall when the bus makes a rocky turn.

“Oof, sorry there little guy.” She raises both hands in apology before heading straight for the coffee machine, haphazardly dumping its contents into a generous-sized mug before immediately proceeding to consume said coffee as she plunks onto the other end of the dining booth.

And that’s how the first morning of me shadowing BLADES goes.

Ellarious tells me I’m lucky it was a good one.

-

With over 16 years of experience under his belt, Tyril Starfury has been in the music and entertainment industry far longer than the rest of the BLADES members combined. At the tender age of nine, he won his first piano competition, regarded highly for his precision at such a young age. He would continue to play competitively until he discovers a new love — musical theater.

It’s no surprise that Starfury ends up on Broadway — he comes from a long line of revered artists, all of them regarded as geniuses of their time. Though some would argue that his family name opened doors that would otherwise be unavailable, no one could deny that it was his clear, soaring baritone and unrelenting work ethic that kept him on stage.

It’s on this stage that he met young Kaya Duskraven, an understudy in one of his shows, prompting a fruitful five-year partnership spanning two EPs and a mini-concert series, Stars in the Dusk.

(The name was a little on the nose, but the critics loved them all the same.)

The two shared such a comfortable rapport, on and off-stage, that they naturally sparked dating rumors — Starfury was always quick to deny them.

No one could have expected the partnership to end on such a bitter note.

To this day, no one knows the real reason behind their fallout — Starfury walked out in the middle of their televised performance without apology or explanation — though there have been no shortage of rumors and theories, a lot of them involving one Eleryn Rosecoven, better known in the industry as Shadow Court bassist dXenia.

I tried to bring it up once, after several bottles of beer have been consumed and the band is swapping stories over s’mores made over the tour bus stove.

I’ve never been shut out so fast in my life.

There’s an audible crack from the s’more now crushed in Imtura’s hand, her piercing amber eyes seemingly driving a death sentence into mine. Volari sighs disapprovingly (and dramatically) at me, and even Ellarious — friendly, cheery Nia — looks at me with a pointed glare, turning off the stove, signaling the end of s’mores night.

“I would prefer not to comment,” Starfury nods at me, years of practiced courtesy showing in his tone and all I want in that moment is for the earth to swallow me whole.

Graywater follows when he excuses himself from the group. Everyone else avoids me like the plague.

It’s hours later when Starfury and Graywater return to the bus — I pretend to have fallen asleep in the dining booth in hopes that I can avoid their fury until the morning — but Graywater approaches me with two cups of tea in hand, an unreadable expression on her face.

She slides over one cup to me — if the scalding temperature of the tea is intentional, she makes no obvious show of it.

“Look,” she begins with an exasperated sigh. “I know you’re only doing your job here. And we did agree to this article, so I’m sorry if things got a little tense back there.” She pauses, as if considering her next words carefully. “We’ve all lived moments in our lives that we’re not proud of. Tyril’s had to live his in front of the public eye. He’ll talk about it when he feels ready to... but his past doesn’t define him, none of ours do.”

I nod, understanding that this is the last we’ll speak of the subject. She smiles as if in truce, telling me that I don’t have to banish myself to the dining booth and that no one will pull any pranks on me if I sleep in the shared bedroom.

I barely catch any sleep anyway.

There’s a ferocity in the way they protect each other that I didn’t notice at first — it could be subtle sometimes, like in the way Volari always checks in with each of the band members every night before going to bed (even though Starfury usually brushes him off); or in the way Imtura always makes sure every one stays hydrated (feel free to interpret that however you wish, whichever way is true); or in the way Ellarious always has some form of baked good running in the oven, more often someone else’s favorite rather than her own.

(I learn the hard way that no one is allowed to get in between Imtura and her cupcakes. No one.)

It’s also plain as day whenever they’re on stage together, their set list a carefully curated show that highlights each member’s strengths without anyone getting overworked. Everyone’s always quick to catch each other whenever they hit snags along the road — there’s a moment in one of the shows when Volari’s mic suddenly gets cut off and Starfury swoops in without missing a beat, a small nod of the former’s head seemingly the only cue he needs, the trust between them implicit.

When I had asked earlier why he’d joined BLADES, Starfury simply shrugged, as if it was no big deal.

“It was by accident. I happened to be at one of their shows and they needed a bass player. We kind of just… worked and we’ve played together ever since.”

But this kind of chemistry doesn’t just happen by accident. No, this is the product of months and months of hard work, of opinions clashing and arguments spanning days before sitting down and realizing it’s not impossible to see eye to eye; it’s battles won and battles lost together, respect earned and trust merited.

To call them just another band seems too small a word almost. Insufficient.

They’re kind of like a family.

(If your typical family involved regular knife and axe-throwing contests, that is.

... it’s best not to ask.)

-

Tensions are high backstage at Deadwood Festival Grounds.

Volari has been pacing around non-stop. Ellarious looks like she’s using every bit of her willpower not to bite her fingernails. Imtura keeps violently tapping her drumsticks together. Starfury’s got his arms crossed in a corner, brows furrowed.

Graywater is doing a handstand for no apparent reason.

The anxiety is understandable — tonight’s a crucial moment for the band.

With only one more show before the grand finale at Whitetower Stadium, all the bands are doing their best to retain the crowd’s favor, each playing well-established fan favorites, saving the riskier song choices for the finale.

That is, everyone except BLADES.

They’re planning to debut two new songs tonight, both of which written solely by Starfury.

It’s a ballsy move on its own — no one’s exactly itching to drop the ball on their fans this close to the end — but add in the fact that Starfury hasn’t released any solo-written music since the Duskraven fallout and you’ve got the makings of a battle that could either go incredibly right or disastrously wrong.

Let’s back up a bit.

After the Duskraven breakup, Starfury had gone into something of a hiatus (if that’s what you call disappearing off the face of the entertainment industry) before dropping the 13-track self-written album, “Honor,” without prior notice or promotion. Fans were ecstatic to hear from him after his sudden break, but critics were less enthused, calling the album ‘a brash, arrogant attempt at flipping the metaphorical finger at Duskraven that ultimately falls short’, noting the clear absence of Duskraven’s touch in his music — all technicality, no soul.

Starfury’s penned a couple of songs with BLADES since, spanning genres as colorful and diverse as its writers, but there hasn’t been a solo venture since Honor, leaving long-time Starfury fans anxious to hear him take lead again.

Graywater calls everyone into a circle, locking eyes with Starfury as she gives his hand a squeeze.

She makes a speech that I‘m not privy to — but everyone is visibly more resolute after she speaks, each raising their fists to meet in the middle of the circle.

“I’m honored to be on this journey with you all,” I hear Starfury share, a glittering smile spreading on Volari’s lips at the statement.

“I knew you liked us!” he says, crossing the circle to throw an arm around Starfury’s shoulders, pulling him close.

“Group hug!” Ellarious laughs and Imtura closes the circle into a solid embrace.

Starfury appears to be in shock — as if this is the first time this has happened — but he recovers quickly, a quietly contented smile on his face.

The last streaks of daylight have disappeared by the time they’re called to stage, the crowd restless from a long afternoon under the blistering heat.

Darkness has fallen.

But then the opening chords to fan-favorite “Murderous Masquerade” cut through the evening air, a flurry of flashing lights bursting through the sky, and the Deadwood comes alive.

Volari takes center stage in his flashy black and gold ensemble, working the crowd with such ease that it’s no question why he’s been dubbed the band’s de facto showman — he’s frankly just mesmerizing to watch.

Next up is “The Priestess and the Warrior,” an epic tale crammed into four and a half minutes of heart-racing drum beats — provided by the insanely talented Imtura — with a tender piano-driven bridge near the close, Ellarious’ heartbreaking vocals driving the whole thing home.

Graywater takes lead in the third number, “Flirting with Monsters,” a delicate neo R&B number that sounds nothing like the title suggests, her earnest, airy vocals lulling you into a comfortable, almost dream-like state as she entices her lover to stay.

The one thing common between the seemingly weird mishmash of genres is Starfury’s steady bassline, providing a much needed thread of cohesion to the set list. Where Volari, Imtura, Graywater, and even Ellarious tackle their music with the raw aggression of fresh blood on stage, Starfury attacks with quiet, seasoned finesse, his expertise evident in tracks like “Watch your back (or I’ll watch it for you)” and “Drakna Queen” — two unconventionally energetic numbers that would be difficult to listen to live if not for Starfury’s sure hand bringing them harmony.

“Alright, we’re gonna slow things down for a bit,” Graywater announces, eyes sparkling with excitement as she looks at Starfury. “Tyril’s got a new song and we want you guys to be the first to hear it.”

By now, I’ve seen enough of Starfury’s performances to say that he’s not a nervous performer. Even in the earlier stages of his career, there was always a quiet assuredness about him — which could have also been easily called arrogance — and while that’s still present now, there’s something different about the way he interacts with the crowd, a sense of humility present in the way he put his hands together and gives them a brief bow before he sits himself in front of the piano.

“I would like to dedicate this to a person very special to me,” he begins, his fingers gentle on the keys, a soft, lilting melody dancing in the air.

(He’s not even the least bit subtle about the way he looks at Graywater.)

“She has reminded me, time and again, that hope and love, when we allow it, can shine the brightest light in the dark.” Graywater shakes her head as if to shrug in nonchalance, but she meets his eyes dead on, her smile beaming with pride.

Turning to the crowd, Starfury adds, “I hope this gives you as much joy as you’ve given me. This one’s called ‘Kilvali.’”

For the next minute, it’s just Starfury and the piano, the world quiet as his voice fills the air. If there was ever any doubt that Starfury had lost his vocal prowess, there wouldn’t be any now. His voice is clear and strong — reaching even the farthest row of people on the music grounds — albeit with a softness now that I’ve never heard from him before, his attachment to his music feeling infinitely more personal.

“All my moments with you are worth whatever pain that came before,” he sings, his voice soaring as the rest of the band join him in the second verse. The performance is even more powerful with the added instrumentation.

Tiny cellphone flashlights illuminate the crowd as they sway their hands in time to the song, the emotion in Starfury’s voice rolling out in waves.

Twitter user @notmxwllbmnt13 sums it up nicely:

SJSKJSJSK TYRIL STARFURY KILLED ME TONIGHT!! ALL!! THE!! FEELS!!

(It really was beautiful.)

The crowd cheers as the song draws to a close, but the battle’s not over yet (as Starfury would tell me himself later) — the true test lying in whether or not his second song proves a testament to his newfound voice in songwriting… or if it’s just a one-time stroke of luck.

“If it’s alright with you, we’d like to play you another new one,” he says and the applause is deafening when he turns over the mic to Volari, the latter pulling him into a one-armed hug before taking to the crowd.

If Duskraven’s interviews post-breakup are to be believed, Starfury has never — not once — written a song that wasn’t intended for himself. (She claimed to have co-written plenty of solos for Starfury, but he allegedly never returned the favor.) A quick glance at his repertoire would make this allegation appear true.

“It is true,” he tells me simply when I bring it up later in the tour bus. (Despite the coolness of his voice, I notice him shift a little in his seat.) “I was... unconfident, extending my words to other artists like that. I was also prideful and arrogant — afraid to face the judgment and criticism of my peers, and for that, I truly am sorry to Kaya. She deserved better from me as a partner.”

It seems Starfury has taken that incident to heart. Listening to “Purple Dreams” with Volari’s teasing falsetto on the forefront, it becomes clear that Starfury wrote this with the former’s vocals in mind, the flirtatious mix of his sassy vocal riffs and playful onstage antics giving the song a delicious, intoxicating energy.

It’s probably the most experimental I’ve heard from Starfury as a writer, both in terms of lyricism and melody.

“I’ve learned a lot this last year, creating music with BLADES,” he explains. “Not only did I find a new perspective on songwriting thanks to them, but my bandmates also gave me the courage to try things outside of my comfort zone and to allow myself to make mistakes. They inspire me.”

Years ago, he was dubbed as stiff and awkward outside of the theater stage, with Duskraven providing all the charm in their partnership, but now, on stage with BLADES — as Volari points his sultry gaze at him, singing his own lyrics to him — Starfury smirks, leaning ever so slightly against the showman as his hands tease along the guitar strings, driving the crowd wild.

It’s clear by the end of the song that Starfury has won over the crowd, and for once, he actually seems to revel in it, his smile beaming as he takes in the applause.

The rest of the band are even more thrilled for him, each leaving their posts to engulf him in another hug.

He doesn’t hesitate this time, allowing the fond gesture in front of their adoring crowd, each of them savoring the quiet moment, and I think, out of all the times I’ve seen Starfury on stage, this has to be my favorite version of him.

In the company of his friends, lifting and supporting each other, Tyril Starfury shines brighter than any star.

“We haven’t talked about what we’re doing after yet,” Starfury admits when I ask him about the future of BLADES after Morella Fest. (Each of the members are also solo artists in their own right, after all.) “But whatever happens at the end of the tour, we’ll always have each other, regardless of whether the band continues or not. I can’t imagine my life without these people now and I hope I never have to.”

He’s smiling as he says this, watching his bandmates fight over the last levenfruit before he excuses himself to join them, Graywater and Ellarious easily making space for him in the dining booth, Volari and Imtura rounding out the little world that now seems completely their own.

-

This article also appears in BLADES: The Most Ambitious Crossover Event in Morella Music History. You can find the full feature on www - kadethebard - com.

-

tagging: @sophie-summer ✨

[hopingforromanoff]

I Love You, Goodbye

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words:1,368

Requests are open, so feel free to send in requests and I will do my best to get them posted ASAP.

Warnings: medical stuff and talk of character death

A/N: This hurt and is super sad but i’m really proud at how this turned out. I MAY do a second part but i’m not 100% sure how I want to end this, let me know what you guys think!

My Masterlist

The thick covering of the trees caused the sky to almost vanish, only allowing a few specs of blue to break through the green umbrella of leaves. The scorching sun began to soak up the water from the recent rain however the mud still squelched beneath your feet. The only other movement present was the occasional bird, fluttering by singing it’s song and squirrels diving between nearby branches. Your lungs struggled to get oxygen to your already weakened muscles; you could do this, you had to do this.

The ground hardened under your feet as more light began to break through the foliage that surrounded you.The warmth of the sun heated your already burning skin. A brown frog hopped around the path in front of you, pausing for a moment before continuing its way into the leaves that littered the muddy ground.  Your foot splashed in a shallow puddle briefly cooling your fevered body. Just a few more feet Y/N, just a few more feet, you can do this.

By the time you reached the top, you were completely out of breath. Your legs stumbled on the uneven ground, Natasha’s hand fell to your back, steadying you. You glanced down at the water below you, thinking about how nice the cool water would feel on your skin. A stream of water flowed into the lake as children splashed on the nearby beach. They giggled as they chased each other, not a care in the world. You wished you could be so carefree but you couldn’t, not in this life, you wouldn’t get the chance.

“Baby-” Natasha started.

“Shh Tasha, just let me enjoy this, one last time” your words were faint and barely audible. A warm breeze ran over you, drying the tears that had begun to trickle down your cheeks.

“I won’t allow this to happen Y/N, I won’t just watch you die” you felt wet tears hit your shoulder as she pulled you close to her.

“We don’t have any choice”

                                           ~24 Hours Earlier~

Steve and Natasha’s laughter filled the air as you entered the mission room. The sound of your combat boots echoed as you approached them.

“You’re back early” Steve greeted you with a smile.

“I told you it would be a piece of cake Rogers. Are you doubting my mad skills?” You pulled the small black flash drive from the back pocket of your suit and proudly pressed it into Steve’s open hand.

“Oh I never doubt you. I’ve seen how you work, I’m just surprised that they let go of this information so easily” Steve flipped the drive around in his hands, examining it.

Nat’s lips moved however, no audible words came out. Steve laughed in response but you couldn’t hear it. You stumbled away, trying to come to terms with the loss of your hearing. Your vision blurred as your sense of sight began to go. Natasha supported your drooping neck as your eyes frantically tried to keep focus on her blurred face.

The pain started as a dull ache in the center of your brain that rapidly spread through your head and extended down your body. You cried out as your legs finally gave out from under you. You didn’t hit the ground though as someone caught you and lifted you into their arms. The movement made you nauseous and you had to resist the urge to throw up all over Steve.

The pain had at least doubled by the time you made it to the medical wing. People rushing around you, pushing Natasha away and beginning to poke and prod you. Your shaking hand reached for hers.

“I’m here Baby” her voice managed to break through the ringing in your ears.

A sharp needle pierced your arm, shooting heavy pain-killers into your veins. It coursed through you, dulling the pain as it went.

The tests had been long and tedious, blood test after blood test, multiple MRI’s and CAT scans, all taking you away from Natasha for far too long. All you wanted to do was be in her arms. You had to be dosed with fresh pain-killers every few hours or the pain would return, stronger each and every time. With each dose, you only wished for it to be over. When you finally were able to return to Natasha’s arms you were shaking like a weak and scared puppy; the combination of heavy medication and fear left you weak and fearful.

The look on Bruce’s face when he returned didn’t inspire any hope in you.

“I’m sorry Y/N” he started, almost looking like he was going to cry himself. “We are unsure but we think this is something that Hydra did to you, probably when you were still young, long before we pulled you out” he paused trying to figure out the best thing to say.

“It must be some sort of fail-safe, a kill switch to stop you from spreading their secrets”

“What are you trying to say?” Steve speaks up from the corner of the room, where he had sat lurking in the shadows hoping that you could not see his fear and concern.

“Umm well it’s designed to destroy neural tissue, it will cause extreme pain, grand mal seizures, cell damage and eventually neuron death” Bruce’s voice was shaking as he spoke.

“Bruce. English Please” Natasha broke away from you and began to pace the length of the room.

“What he means is that I’m gonna die. Very slowly and painfully” Natasha didn’t stick around long enough to see your reaction as the door slammed behind her.

                                               ~Present Day~

You had ultimately made the decision to go peacefully while you slept, you had already suffered through one seizure last night and you didn’t want that again. While Natasha hadn’t been exactly happy with your decision, she couldn’t watch you suffer either. You and Nat spent what little time you had left doing the things you loved. They had not been exactly sure how long you had but the seizure last night had made their decision. If you wanted it to be peaceful, it had to be now.

Natasha’s presence lit the otherwise dull hospital room. You didn’t know how she would cope without you but you hoped she would find love again. You hoped it would be as ever consuming as the love you felt for her. You hoped she would feel a spark every time they touched and she would never want to let go. It brought joy to you to know that you would leave this world being completely and wholly loved by her and you hoped she would get the same in the very distant future when her time eventually came.

Your skin pinched as Bruce inserted the needle into your hand. They had decided the best way for this to go down was to pump you full of pain-killers and then send you into a coma while you waited for death to come for you.

“I’m going to give you two a few minutes while I get everything ready” You smiled thankfully at Bruce as he left the room.

“Y/N, please this can’t happen, there has to be another way, I can’t live without you” Natasha’s tears hit the mattress beside you.

“Tony and Bruce have been trying to find another way, they would have found another way by now” you kissed her. “Please be strong Natasha, I need you to let me go”

“I can’t be happy without you” she wiped your tears from your face softly.

Bruce returned, he asked if you were ready and you only managed a nod in response. As soon as he started the IV you could feel the medicine weighing your body down.

You stroked Natasha’s tear-stained cheek. Her eyes met yours, and you tried your hardest to remember them, because you knew after today you would never see her again. Sleep began to pull you in .

“Goodbye,I love you Natasha” you whispered as your head fell gently against the pillow and your eyes fluttered shut.

“Baby, please don’t go, I lov-” Your consciousness faded and her final words disappeared with you into the silent and black void.

[angrypixie-sarisa]

Of Death and a Baby

Piedras Rodantes Pt. 23

Sam xMexican!Witch!fem!readerx Dean (polyamorous)

Author’s note: There’s the use of indigenous language, Nahuatl, casually but magically as well. Nahuatl is the language used by the Aztecs. It doesn’t mean they were magical, but Día de muertos was celebrated long before the Spanish conquista. Because of the focus of death in this chapter I personally think that the connection between the tradition and language is quite beautiful and I wanted to use it in a way with respect. I personally am learning Nahuatl and felt the enthusiasm of incoporating it to the story. If someone finds it offensive or has notes about it I will gladly take them and even erase the chapter if necessary.

Warnings: kinda long, swearing.

(no gifs bc my wifi sucks)

“Okay, so, are you sure he had no aura? Like, not even a spark of red? Yellow? Heck, not even blue?” Diego was sitting criss cross in front of you. You shook your head as you finished drawing on your floor.

“Nothing, and when I say nothing, believe me, it was nothing. You remember that spooky book at school? The one with the weird gray lump?”

“Wha-the weird one?”

“It reminded me so much of that.”

“Word?”

“Word. Hence this.” You signaled towards the things drawn on your floor, all surrounded by the respected color, tarot cards, crystals and herbs. Diego sighed as he helped you light up all the candles. 

“You know, if they find out about this, they’ll get mad.” He said as he placed his hands on his knees, palms hugging them lazily. 

“¿Quién?” You asked as you did the same thing. He gave you a look as if you were supposed to know who he was talking about. 

“Sam and Dean?”

“Oh, pft, who cares if they get mad? Esto es justo y necesario. Además sus sentimientos no tienen nada que ver en si hago magia o no. Screw them.” he dedicated you a proud look, before clearing his throat. “Ready?” 

“On three?”

He nodded. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three. Nihuinti, nichoca, nicnotlamati, nicmati, nic-itoa, nic-elnamiqui: ¡Maca aic nimiqui, maca aic nipolihui! Incan ahmicohua, incan ontepetihua, in ma oncan niauh: ¡maca aic nimiqui, maca aic nipolihui! Estoy ebrio, lloro, me duelo, digo, me acuerdo: ¡ojalá no muera yo, ojalá nunca perezca! Donde no se muere, donde se encumbra, allá vaya yo- Ojalá.” You both chanted in unison. The circle started to illuminate with variety of colors, though the ones that repeated the most were red, purple, orange, green and blue. You kept chanting the same words over and over until in the center of it all, you got an answer. 

Slowly, you both opened your eyes and moved your hands from your knees as you looked at the center on the circle. 

You sighed. In temporal burnt letters it was written “Tetlapopolhuiliztli. Atlenkauitl.” Which meant sorry, no time or bussy.

“Well, there’s another way.” 

“I know, but it’s the longest way of invoking death.” 

“But it’ll be worth it. You’ll have your answers.” 

You sighed while passing a hand through your hair. 

“Es la muerte. Tiene sentido que esté ocupada.”

“Ni modo.” Your phone vibrated in your backpocket. You took it out and checked it only to find a text from Lisa. She managed to convince Dean to get on board with the gun lesson and the knife throwing. Verga. You forgot about it or rather you were utterly convinced that he wouldn’t give in that you decided to focus all your energy and thoughts to summoning Death. But well, she was busy and now you were stuck multitasking. 

“It’s not fair. I wanted to learn how to throw it.”

“I know champ. But for now your mom gets this privilege.” You caressed his hair slightly. Though Lisa didn’t feel it like a privilege. She would rather not have to know how to fire a gun and throw a knife, but her situation demanded it so here she was. 

“Okay, once you master the movement of your throwing hand and you don’t fear to hit your foot instead of the wood your standing on-” 

She looked at you with a mock on her eyes at your teasing. 

“Then you’ll move from throwing at the floor to throwing at a wall. For now, stick to the other method, the precautions and keep practising. Salt in the windows and doors, the whole shebang.” 

She nodded as she and Ben helped you get the set up you brought for her practicing. Next thing you were at the door, already saying your goodbyes and as you walked a block away your phone vibrated again. Since you wanted to summon her, you kept thinking everything could be a signal that death actually made some time to pay you a quick visit. But sending a text wasn’t her style and when you saw your screen it was Dean’s name that appear. It was a text, however, you didn’t get the chance to read as a call came to replace it. 

“Hey. I was just with Lisa and Ben, made sure the house’s properly safe and all. What’s-”

“Y/N, we need your help.” He sounded desperate, his voice was rushed and it sounded as if it came from different places, kind of like up and down, for some reason. 

“Wha-Why? With what?” Just after you asked your ears were filled with the sound of whales, very noisy and demanding whales with a tiny sob here and there. 

“Is that a baby?!” 

“Yeah! I told you we need you! Quick, I don’t know for how much longer we can handle this!” 

“Okay, but-”

“Perfect. See you here.” And then he hung up.

+++++

There was a knock on the other side of the door, a very loud knock. "No, no please don't…" Dean muttered as he heard the baby starting to cry again. Sam passed a frustrated hand over his face as he saw his brother open the door only to be met by another catastrophe. Your eyes were flames and he could swear you could kill anybody with that glare. 

"What. The. Hell? At least if you ask me to come over give me the fucking place where you're at! I had to open five different doors to come here! There's a Swedish family you owe an apology to!" You practically helped yourself in. Taking deep breaths to calm yourself as you walk through all the room. Your eyes landed on the whaling baby. "Hi. I'm sorry, did I scare you, darling?" You went to pick him up and to the brothers surprise the baby lifted his arms at you. "Yeah, come here buddy. Hi! Are these evil men not attending to your needs? They're pretty awful aren't they?" 

"Excuse me?" Dean glared at you and the baby as he settled his head on your chest, on top of your heart. You passed a soothing hand through his back and rocked him gently. 

"Sorry I woke you up. They were awful to me as well." You whispered to him.

"Oh, come on!" Dean, once again, complained.

"That's a lie." You heard Sam say at the table.

"Don't believe them. They would say anything to save their necks. A bet they don't even hold you. Tsk. Muy mal." With every word you felt him relax and you looked down to confirm that his eyes were droopy. 

"Hey, about your spanish." Started the older Winchester and measured his words as he was met up by a murderous gaze. 

"What about my Spanish?"

"I'm tired of wondering whatever you're saying all the time. Could you just cast that spell that Diego did for Tyler?" 

"Me too." 

You turned to look at Sam and you couldn't see anything other than mere curiosity. You rolled your eyes as you whispered the spell and a light orange smoke appeared at your feet before dispersing quickly, as though something scared it. 

"Did it-did it work?"

"Pues claro que funcionó. ¿Verdad que sí mi niño?" And as you spoke words started appearing as if they were watching a movie with subtitles. 

"Wow! That's awesome! Say something more." 

You thought for a while as if suddenly you didn't know any Spanish. Funny enough, the next words you spoke weren't Spanish. 

"Ma cochi, pitentzin. Maconexteca pitelontzin. Ma cochi cochi noxocoyotl. Maconexteca noxocoyotzin. Maconexteca pitelontzin. Ma cochi cochi pitelontzin. Maconexteca noxocoyotzin. Maconexteca pitelontzin. Ma cochi cochi pitentzin." But it worked, the spell translated the Nahuatl words, the song to them. But of course, the sound of it wasn't familiar to the brothers. 

The baby in your arms cooed lazily at the sound of the song. Instead of bothering to answer the brother's questions you kept singing to the babe until he fell asleep. Only then did you stop singing and placed him in the crib. 

"What was that?" Sam asked. He had stood up from his place on the table to lean nearby on a wall. 

"Nahuatl." You said nonchalantly. But of course that wasn't a satisfying answer. 

"I studied Nahuatl so it makes sense that I know how to speak the language." You looked at their dumbfounded faces and sighed. 

"Do you need a quick class of Mexico's history?" Seeming that there was no response you continued. "As in the United States, México was also populated by indigenous cultures. The dominant, and I'm not proud about this, culture was the Aztec/Mexica. They dominated great part of the country so it's the most spoken indigenous language, although there's still a small number of people that speak it. I personally fell in love with it and so wanted to learn it and did." You shrugged when no response came from them. "What can I say? I'm a woman of many surprises." 

“I see that.” Sam said, patting your head gently as he went to head outside. 

“Where are you going? I hope you didn’t just drag me around here to babysit.”

“I just have to cover something I missed. Brb.” He winked at you before disappearing behind the shut door. 

You sighed and passed a hand through your hair, then turned to look at Dean, who was resting in one of the beds. “Well at least you’re here to keep me company.” 

You sat beside him, looking at the wooden bars of the crib whilst biting your lip, deep in thought. He never used to pat your head, he only did it once before you told him to stop because you felt like a dog. 

You felt heavy fingers tapping at your back lazily. You turned around to face the tired look on his face. “What ‘cha thinking?” 

You released your lip and turned your attention back to the crib.

“Nothing.” It would’ve convinced him if it wasn’t for the fact  that your voice sounded low and dark, causing him to sat up. 

“That’s the worst lie you’ve ever told.” When you didn’t answer, he pressed. “Is it Sam?” 

At that he caught your attention, seeing as your head quickly spun around to face him with a puzzled look painted in it. 

“You feel it too?”

“Feel what?” He thought the distance between you and his brother was bothering you and he didn’t know why it was there in the first place. You two should be like newly weds or something, after all, you were reunited again. 

“Nothing, nothing.” You panicked and closed your mouth before you could say something else. 

“Y/N.” He warned. Well now he needed answers. He wanted to know what was happening. 

“Dean, you don’t wanna know, okay?”

“Except I do, you’ve just called me Dean.” 

Finally, you met him in the eye again. “What?”

“You only call me Dean when you’re serious.”

“That’s not true.”

“Mhm, sure.”

You laid back on your forearms, still looking forward. “Don’t know what you talkin’ ‘bout win- I mean, De-”

“See, I told you!” He slapped your thigh playfully as he chuckled, earning a few silent laughs from you. 

“Okay, alright, you’re right. I do call you Winchester frequently.” His hand wrapped above your knee and squeezed gently. He gave you some time in silence before he planned to press again. He didn’t want to give the impression that he wouldn’t ask again but also he didn’t want to annoy you with his insistence. 

“What is it? What about Sam?”

You groaned. “You never give up, do you?”

He shrugged as his thumb made tiny circles on your jean wrapped knee. 

You sighed. “Fine. Si te vas a poner en ese plan, pues ya que.” You huffed as you sat up again. 

He smiled softly. “ I love this spell.”

“Yeah, except now I can’t talk shit with you in the room anymore.” 

He bumped his shoulder with yours. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Wha- you were the one who did.”

“Y/N.”

“Ay, sí, ya sé.” You rolled your eyes, took a deep breath and let go. “Do you think Sam is… You know, our Sammy?” There was a pause as his hand stopped moving abruptly. You started playing with one of your beaded bracelets nervously as you waited for his answer. “What do you mean?”

You sighed before answer. “He’s not Sammy, Dean. He’s… Different and not in a good way.”

“What- How is he different?”

“Well he doesn't fight with you.”

“Oh, so you prefer it that we fight?”

“No, i don’t mean it like that. I mean it’s not natural. You guys fight and now he rises from the depths of hell and suddenly your brotherhood is just paradise?”

“How do you even know that we fight normally?”

“He told me before going back to hunting, before going to hell. Dean he’s not Sam. There’s something wrong with him, he-he has no aura. He’s way to poised and calm all the time. He patted my head.” You started listing all the things, carefully toning down your voice so you wouldn’t wake up the baby again. 

“Wow, what? Your basing all this on him patting your head?”

“It’s not just that, didn’t you hear what I said? He had literally no AURA. And him patting my head? I asked him not to once and he never did it again through the time we were together.”

“So he’s awkward, he’s remembering how it was having you around it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Well, how do you explain the aura then?” You crossed your arms. 

At that, he remained silent, clenching his jaw as he thought. “Maybe you’re still tired, from the djinn thing.”

You took a deep breath and clenched your fists. You knew he wouldn’t understand.

“Just forget I told you this.”

“No, Y/N, I-” But whatever he was about to say got muffled by the sound of something splattering, followed by baby cries. You both looked up to see skin and blood on the wall. 

You both hurried to aid him, you beating Dean to it as he answered a call from Sam. 

“Dean.” You called as you picked the baby covered in green goo. He hanged up the phone and took the baby from you. But neither of you knew what to do except for panicking and do a funny dance where you stood. 

“Shapeshifter.” 

“I know.”

“The baby, he’s…”

“I know.” 

“What do we do, Y/N?!” 

“Um, okay, well…” You stammered. “No need panicking.” But what could you do? Was there anything to do, really? All you could do was take care of him until you could figure out something better. “Um, we- we can’t have a dirty baby. Let’s clean him and for once stop him from crying.” 

The Winchester nodded rapidly. “Yeah, yeah that sounds like a plan.” He took the baby to the bathroom, living you staring at the mess left behind. 

“I guess I’ll deal with this.”

+++

You finally got everything clean except that the baby kept crying. You tried cooing at him and playing with him but nothing worked. It would’ve been easier if you had a baby toy but, the brothers didn’t buy any. 

“Y/N, come on. You were supposed to be the baby whisperer.”

“Oye! Just because I’m a woman it doesn’t mean I’m the baby whisperer.” 

Then, there were knocks on the door before a voice came through. “Manager. Everything okay in there?” You frowned as you both shared a look before glaring at the door. 

“Yeah, no, we’re fine. Thank you. Good night.”

“There’s been complaints. Mind opening the door, sir?”

“Ay, pinche wey, pues que le valga a la verga.” You whispered. The older Winchester pressed a hand on your mouth despite your complaints. “You cannot curse in front of a baby.” He scolded. 

You shrugged his hand away. “Oh, grow up, everybody does.”

“Sir?”

“Uh, it’s not a good time. J-Just got out of the shower.” 

The doorknob started moving impatiently. You shared a look with the hunter. In your eyes he found an ice cold blue that wasn’t supposed to be there. He saw you move to hide on one side of the door, leaving the baby to him as he placed the him in the crib, before mimicking your actions. 

The door opened up to reveal a police man with a knife. Manager, mis huevos. Dean heard your voice in his head, not affording to look at the translation.  The intruder just needed to advance a couple of steps before he grabbed his arm and you got the knife out his hand. 

Struggling, the man pushed you two away from him, making the stupidest thing and pushing you two in between the baby and him.

“Get the hell out of the way.”

“No that’s not gonna happen.”

“A child should be with his father.” 

“Prove he’s your son, then we’ll consider it.” You said. 

“I’m not just talking about me, I’m talking about our father.” 

You masked your confusion well enough but the hunter looked as if he took the bait. You mentally facepalmed.  And as the guy went to make his move you quickly dodged his kick before you kneeled and kicked his other leg. 

“Y/N, look out!” 

He grabbed you by your hair and pulled. But just as sudden as it was it stopped. Dean had jumped into action and wrestled with the man. 

“The knife!” 

You felt it beneath you and you grabbed it as you went and pressed it on the shapeshifter’s throat. He groaned, placing his hands around the hunter’s throat. 

“Try me, I’ll choke him before you could slice my throat.”

“You talk to much.” As you went to move your hand he slammed his head with yours, freeing himself from your threat. 

You placed a hand on your forehead and saw him towering over you. But before he could do anything else a gunshot was heard and his body met the floor with a thump. 

“Well, there goes our deposit.” You heard Dean say towards the door. You needn’t see it to know that it was Sam.

+++

You were driving to meet up with Samuel and the cousins. The boys had discussed about the events and Sam had suggested to go to Samuel. You weren't happy about it, your gut kept telling you that something was wrong. Still, there you were, sitting at the back of the car, keeping an eye on the sleeping baby. 

You looked out your window, not really knowing where to look at, but you certainly didn’t want to face forw, when something caught your eye. As if the world had slowed down, you perfectly saw a lost soul watching dumbfounded at the cars as if they didn't know how they got into the road. 

Your fingertips started tingling and you glanced down at them to find them colored a coal black tone. 

Verga. You glanced around shoving everything trying to find anything that could help you; there had to be something you could use to hide them. 

"Hey, what's up?" Dean asked watching you through the rear mirror. 

"Uh. Sammy…" you cleared your throat. "Sam, do you happen to have the other day's gloves?" 

"Uh, I think so. I think there somewhere back there." 

You sighed and mumbled a thank you. You were sure to move carefully, trying not to flash them your fingertips. 

Just as you thought you had no exit to your problem you saw crushed leather fingers beneath the baby's car chair.

"Ay Dios mío, gracias!" You quickly retrieved them, shoving your hands swiftly into the soft fabric from the inside. 

"So, what's with you and the gloves?" The older brother asked. 

"I- I well, you know, I tend to wear them when I get too overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed, 'bout what?"

"Er, um, pues, 'bout the energy of people or a place, sometimes certain hours of the day. It depends but the feeling's rare."

While it was a true statement, it had more to do with the fact that death started surrounding you and it would only intensify once the summoning was complete. But, the fingers usually happened if the spell for summoning death worked a little too well.

+++

It was night time when you arrived and the chills down your spine intensified. There was no way you were leaving the baby’s side now. 

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Soon all of this mess would be over. 

You held the baby close to you, careful not to crush him, and the cousins gave you weird looks about it that you decided to take care of by giving them the finger. Every time you did, Dean shook his head. 

“Oh, relax he’s asleep. He can’t see me.” 

Gwen approached you with her eyes fixed on the baby. She went to caress his head softly as she said. “Well, aren’t you the best disguise a monster ever wore?”

You looked away from her, sure that if you stared at her for too long her head would explode. Instead you locked eyes with Dean and you both rolled eyes in unison at his cousin’s words.

However, she noticed. “I’m kidding, guys. Relax.” She said before going away. 

You lifted the baby softly so he could hear your words. “Cura, cura, cura. Sana todo lo que llevas. Que tus abuelos están contigo y sus espíritus te protegen.” It was an incantation to wash away the energy of the brother’s cousin, you didn’t want it sticking around where it didn’t belong. No one heard, but they did see you and questioned you. When asked what the hell you were doing, you shrugged. 

“Que te valga madre, ¿no?” 

When you fully lifted your gaze, the Sams were already heading towards you and the older brother had already stood besides you. 

“Hey, let me see the little guy.”

“That’s alright I got it.” You said firmly. 

Samuel smiled. “What do you think I’m gonna do?”

There it was, your ice cold eyes again. “I don’t know. What do you think you’re gonna do?”

“You don’t want an answer to that question.” Dean backed you up. 

“Well, I’m curious. Who exactly do you think we are?” Christian asked from his chair. 

“Hunters.” You both answered. But that didn’t matter because his response was only directed to the one on your right side. 

“Funny. Here i thought we were family.”

“Hey, let’s not get worked up.” Sam started. 

“Yeah, let’s not.” His cousin finished before directing his attention to something else. 

“Here, Y/N, it’s fine.” He neared you and looked at you. “Let me take him. It’s okay.”

“Heh, well you’ll have to rip him off of my arms.” You didn’t move. You stood your ground because stepping back would’ve ment intimidation and you weren’t intimidated you were furious. 

“Y/N.” Sam said quietly.

“No, don’t talk that bullshit to me. What do you want him for? Hm? Tell me, give me a good reason why you want me to hand him and I will.”

The room fell silent, more than it already was. You scoffed. “What you can’t think of a good one? He’s fine, he’s healthy, he isn’t injured. You want to take a look at him? Hear your words. Look. You can do that shit with your eyes, I don’t need to hand him over for that.”

Samuel, sighed, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck. 

He’s nervous. The older brother heard your words in his head. His back shuddered, but when he turned to look at you he saw that your attention wasn’t directed at him. He didn’t even think you actually intended to talk to him. What did you said once? You tended to think loudly. 

“What are you gonna do with him?” The attention of the good ol’ Campbell shifted from you to his grandson. 

“Raise him.”

You scoffed. “Simón, wey. Esa ni tu te la crees.” 

“Raise him?”

“You got another suggestion?” 

“But-”

“It’s dangerous out there for him.”

“What about in here? What are we gonna study him? Poke at ‘im?”

“Your mind goes right to torture, Dean. Don’t assume that for everyone.” 

“What exactly you’re tryna say?” Great, now you got two angry people. Good luck fighting us.

“Sorry, I heard what you majored in. Down in the pit.” Christian retorted.

“Ay, pinche puñetas! Que te valga madre, pinche cabron de mierda!”

“Sorry, I don’t speak mexican.” 

You gritted your teeth. “And I don’t speak bozo, yet here we are.” 

“The hell is your problem, man?”

His cousin stood up and walked directly towards you. “You’re starting to become a pain in my ass.” 

“Take it easy. They’re my family.” Sam stepped in. 

Christian took a look at you. “I’m not scared of fighting a girl.”

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you.” 

Dean gulped and looked at your eyes, they were no longer icy blue, they were pure red, as fire and blood. As if you could burst something into flames by just looking at it. 

“We’re done bristling up here or what? Nobody’s doing anything to him, guys. When he’s old enough we throw it to him.” Samuel spoke. “He wants to volunteer to help out, that’s fine.” 

“Could be great.” Mark added. 

“How?” You asked lowly. 

“Think of the kind of hunter he’ll grow up to be.” 

“Hm. See I didn’t see it before but now I do. Thank you for that, you’ve opened my eyes.” You said sarcastically. 

“You have to be joking! I mean, come on. You can’t Angelina Jolie a shapeshifter.”

“Why can’t you give me an inch of trust, Dean?”

“Y/N, give him the baby.” Mark commanded. 

“Uy, sí, mamón. Lo que usted ordene. Se me olvidaba que le tengo que hacer caso a cualquier pendejo que abra la boca.” 

“Maybe because you two are back from the dead and I seem to be the only one who wants to know how.”

“You’re not the only who wants to know.” Sam said softly. That took you off guard, it sounded so genuine yet only in that moment he felt honest. 

“Well, there’s too much of mystery in this family for me to get comfy.”

“Then don’t. But don’t put it on us. All we’re trying to do is invite you in. You too, young lady. You think we are some merciless hunters but we’ve been nothing but open to you. Christian, you’ve always wanted a baby, haven’t you?”

“I mean, yeah.” 

“Try to take him away from me and see what happens.”

Samuel scoffed. “What you think you can do better?”

“At raising him? Yeah, I do.”

“But didn’t you tell Sam that you didn’t want kids?” Gwen stepped in. 

“Well I changed my mind, sue me. One thing is for certain, I have a better chance. You guys are always on the run, always hopping from one town to another. You don’t have a steady income. I do. And I have a savings account with money enough to start a college fund. If you can’t say the same thing, leave the baby the fuck alone.” Your phone kept buzzing like crazy. Just a little bit more, he’s almost here. 

Everyone fell silent again. This was new to Dean. He had never seen you liked this but he always knew that you had a good way of shutting people the hell up with solid facts. 

Just when Samuel opened his mouth to respond, distant barks were heard and panic overflowed the room. 

You looked at Sam, only to find nothing but confusion. Then you turned to Dean, but he only dedicated you a panic look as well. You felt paralyzed, your body tensed and for the first time in years, you didn’t know what to do. Well, you did, but it was easier for you to think tit than to move your body. You had to blame it on the spell, it was making you slow and frightful, like an old person that had their foot more on the afterlife than on the material world

“Safe room.” Samuel said. He placed a hand on your shoulder and guided you towards a door. “It’s downstairs. The baby’s gonna be safe there, go! We got it, go!”

+++

Loud clanks and footsteps echoed in the safe room where the four of you where at. 

“Come on, Bobby John, you’ve got to be quiet.” Dean cooed at him above of you. You still didn’t feel like handing him to someone else. 

“I’m gonna go check, you guys stay here.” Sam said, but as he looked through the window his image was mirrored and the shapeshifter yanked the door of it’s hinges. He took Sam by the collar, blocking his attack and threw him out of the room, knocking him out. He spotted you and began to walk towards your direction, getting rid of Dean in the process, making him blackout as well. . He then saw you and took your form. 

“Give me the baby.” 

“Took you long enough.” You whispered before handing them the babe. The shapeshifter gave you a thankful look as they carried the baby in his arms. They took a deep breath as they relaxed knowing that his keen was finally with them.  

“Thank you for calling us. And trusting us, Y/N. Thank you for taking care of him, we are in debt with you. It did making the tracking easier”

“There’s no need for that.” You sighed. “I’m only glad he’s safe. I was the only one who thought he was better with his kind.”

Your mirrored self gave you one last nod before walking away. Just as they were about to round the corner, they turned to you. 

“But you didn’t trust one of us before. What changed?” 

“Like I told him. All I needed was proof that he was the father. Now it doesn’t matter anymore. He has no one close to him left. I’m sorry for all the trouble, it wasn’t supposed to go like this.” 

They shrugged and as they walked away they said: “Make sure to make your injuries believable.” 

Yeah. You thought and sighed. That was going to hurt.

The rest of it went like you expected, lots of clean up and confusion. Dean asked about the shapeshifter alpha (which was the one tracking the baby) and his grandparent and Sam answered patiently. 

Now you where at the walk to the car, tending to your black eye, that you funnily gave yourself, while the brothers talked. 

“You know what’s funny.”

“What?”

“Back there, the fight in the motel. That guy said that they had to be with their father. So maybe, he was talking about the alpha.”

“Uh, I guess so.” Sam said nonchalantly. 

“So you heard that?” 

“I don’t know, it was kind of a hot moment? Why?” He looked at his brother and then at you, but whatever he was searching for he didn’t find it.

“Because if you did know the alpha was out there and you knew they were looking for the baby, then that means you took the baby as bait.”

Sam fell silent but looked at his brother as he waited for the question. “So did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Took the baby as bait?”

“Of course not, Dean. I honestly thought Samuel was the best shot we got.”

The older Winchester looked at you for backup and his brother mimicked his action. 

“Ah no, a mí ni me miren, yo tengo mis propios problemas ahorita.” You pointed at your black eye and thankfully that made them take their eyes off of you. And the rest of the ride was silent as a tomb.

+++

When you got back to your house, a tiny shadow was waiting for you, meowing. 

You sighed, relieved. “Schrödinger, hola gato guapo.”

“You have a message. It’s on the altar.” He walked you towards your coffee table, where you had mantled death’s altar. In the center, on top of the tarot death card, there was an envelope with a black wax seal, death’s seal. 

You sighed. “Always so fancy and proper, huesuda.” You opened the enveloped and unfolded the letter that was inside. It was a personal letter to basically tell you to be patient, she had a lot of work but as soon as she felt a space between her schedule she would gladly have a cup of coffee with you. 

“Great. I’ll have to make café de olla de aquí hasta que aparezca.” You clicked your tongue.

“At least she communicated with you.” Schrödinger said as he rubbed his body against your leg. You smiled and picked him up. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

+++

@anathewierdo

[bi-outta-cordonia]

Sky and Moon, Part II

This thing has been kicking my butt for weeks now but it’s done and I’m done with it! Part 2, where the thing happens and maybe these idiots will actually start trying to make something of this. Maybe!! This is part of a running thing at this point and Tyril is officially the character I’ve written the most for at this point. 

Blades of Light and Shadow. Tyril Starfury x f!elf MC (Ashala Venralei). sfw, mostly T rating for some mentions of mature situations. Tags include: Tyril is kind of a coward but listen he’s trying, some big make outs I’ve been a lil too eager to finally get to, uh also some fights, mostly practice, but Tyril has been just a bit irritating for my poor girl to deal with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gallius, the Unmoving. She swallowed her sisters and became the immovable, bare-naked creature that looms over all Morella. Her cracked surface and scattered pieces were the final result of her violent consumption, so the legend says. While her sisters accepted their fate, their bodies writhed and screamed when it came time to fulfill that destiny.

Confronting the inevitable remains difficult even for the gods it seems.

The moon hangs high in the sky, bathing the earth in pale light that faintly illuminates all the move about the realm. The first thing he notices is that Imtura remains missing from camp. Her words to him may change things depending if his stubbornness continues to hold him hostage. Nia sits absently scratching a sleeping Threep, an occasional smile tugging at her lips when he purrs and rubs at his face with a paw. Tyril remains in the shadows for now and watches carefully as Mal slowly trudges through the camp.

“She was trying to kill me,” he sighs, exasperated. He drops onto the log he was sitting on hours ago and ignores Nia’s stifled laughter.

“I’m sure you would’ve been dead by now if she desired such a thing!” she explains.

“You think you know her sooo well until she’s got you pinned between a rock and a hard place while she’s,” he frantically waves a hand, “throwing fireballs about! I want to be happy that she’s getting better at battle magic but then she singes my arse and I have to remind myself she’s trying to kill people when she does that.”

Tyril’s head bows—Ashala came to him on a night he was keeping watch asking about elven battle magic. She’s still searching for answers to questions she isn’t ready to know. 

Even with the markings on her and the extensive teachings her parents bestow upon her, she is not fully knowledgable of elven practices. He gave in then, the culmination of their late nights together leading him down a path of curiosity he’s apparently decided to indulge.

Mal sighs and props himself up on his arms. “That Ashala is something else.”

“You’ve mentioned that before,” Nia says, gently setting Threep on the ground. She rises and reaches out to warm her hands over the fire. “Would it be too forward to ask if anything…er…if you two might…?”

A heavy silence hangs between the two of them for a long while and Nia looks up. Mal’s entire game is deception and sleight of hands—if there ever was a moment he let his true feelings slip through, he’s done well to conceal them. Tyril waits, his gaze briefly flicking towards the direction beyond the trees where Ashala still remains.

“It’s been tense around here,” Mal says instead. A part of Tyril seizes up but he remembers himself quickly. Mal’s eyes focus straight ahead and his brow furrows. “Tyril and Imtura still out there?”

Nia shrugs. “I saw Imtura a little earlier but Tyril hasn’t come back yet.”

“Figures…” Mal mutters, lying back down.

He tries to ignore the venom dripping off the tip of his tongue. The resentment Tyril harbors isn’t for Mal—it should be for his own indecisiveness and for the coward that still crumples at the first sign of something gone wrong rather than facing his shortcomings.

“Hey, Nia—” She lifts her head and looks at Mal again. “You ever feel like you know something’s about to go wrong but you keep on wishing something else would happen? Like there’s a storm brewing—and it’s definitely coming—but some tiny part of you still hopes it’ll change course?”

Nia doesn’t answer for quite some time, choosing instead to stoke the dimming fire with carefully constructed orbs of light. Her magic bursts over the flames, reigniting the embers licking at the empty air all around.

“Sometimes,” she finally responds. “The way I’ve come to think of this world—all the bad things that happen in it—there are just some things out of our control and some things that just happen no matter how hard we try to change that course.”

Mal lets out a bark of laughter. “Of all the people! I thought you were going to rave about putting faith in the Light!”

Nia sighs. “I do believe in the strength and kindness that can come from trusting in the Light. I choose to believe that there is good that can come from what I’ve learned and that I can use that knowledge to help others. But all too often, people forget that the Light does not grant us omniscience and it cannot change fate on request.”

Tyril recedes further into the shadows, eyes briefly shutting and boy shuddering as he takes a breath. He knows the game of give and take, push and pull—Undermount shows him that the Light is a boon where faith is waning but it is not a being that grants wishes so easily. It gives knowledge and takes parts of the soul in exchange. Nature must maintain its balance.

“Is it wrong that I want something bad to happen?” Mal asks. “Not necessarily to a person, but just—say for a situation instead? As in I hope something doesn’t turn out a certain way so I don’t have to wonder if I’ve been wasting my time…”

Tyril shakes his head and beats down the bitterness that rises up in him. His ears twitch when Nia responds.

“I think its natural to wish for things to turn out in your favor. No one wants to lose anything—we all want what we truly desire in life. But even still, we can fail. Despite that, I choose to move forward and do what I can. I would rather try and then fail than rest on my laurels waiting for an outcome I can’t predict.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Each white mark is strategically placed, forming a trove of patterns that look all too familiar. His father once told him of a story about a house that submerged itself in the power that came from knowledge as opposed to the power that came from playing the grand political game. It was a house that dealt only in rediscovery. They often searched for old philosophies, literature, techniques, and magics—the only thing that mattered to them was reclaiming all the lost remnants of the Old Kingdom that were left in the wake of the Shadow Court’s destruction.

Ashala’s brands are similar to the ones his father described back then.

Lumeniese and Sabien: the tragedy of the twin trees,

Myyori, the Wandering Maiden,

Thyrithet and the White Bull—

She conceals the rest behind long black robes and the best leatherwork she can afford. His face heats and his eyes dart away thinking of all the times he laid up on nights wondering what the full work looks like.

Ashala’s hands extend out and away from her body, palms turned upward and brilliant balls of light pulsating in each hand. Energy pours from the marks, stirs deep inside him as her subconscious draws from the power all around her. It gives and she takes. Dew droplets from the tiniest blade of grass, a hidden insect stirring heat as its tiny legs frantically move—circling and funneling through that conduit that is her body into the flat of her palms. Nature provides and demands in the same breath, it cycles but she is smart enough to ask for the minimal. There is no need to be greedy with the Light.

He steps through the clearing and she ignores him.

Tyril’s fingers part and stretch slowly—the bitter taste of electricity from the skies tingles on his tongue and the crackle of static ripples up the length of his arm, raising locks of his hair on end. Sparks tingle through heated skin and his lips tremble. Small bolts of lightning pop and crack the air, some shooting out of his palm into the very ground around Ashala’s feet.

Her head perks up but she keeps her back to him. Ashala’s fingers twitch and her magic swallows the bolts of power he scatters at her feet. Piece by piece, she consumes everything. They’ve done this song and dance a million times—a process of giving and giving until the reserve deep inside him quivers just a bit. When she consumes enough, he drops his hand and shakes his head so his hair falls back into place.

Stray wind rustles the trees surrounding the clearing. He grips the hilt of one of his blades.

Fire blazes towards him and he leaps, crossing the distance in three strides before his blade collides with a transparent barrier. He grits his teeth and she barely tilts her head. Planting his foot, he pushes off the invisible construct and throws a hand up as bolts of ice fly past him. Fire arcs through the black night and cracks at his feet like a whip. The orange trail breaks from her palm and speeds towards him, its form shifting as blackened eyes and fangs descend from a burning maw.

Tyril cuts through the creature and pivots easily, blocking Ashala’s knife stabbing straight at his heart. Her golden eyes finally meet his, controlled rage swirling within the depths, and he throws his weight behind his blade. His mouth opens and she cracks him across the face with a wave of raw telepathic magic. He wipes the blood from his lip and slams her in the stomach with a blast of his own.

She flies back but tumbles onto her feet, skidding across the wet ground, and slaps the ground with her hand, raising a wall of dirt and grass from the bowels of the earth. Tyril braces, harnessing the subtle wind blowing through the clearing and halting it in place. He takes up a defensive stance with his blade and spins, cutting the first pillar of rock she throws at him right down the middle. Blow by blow, her hands mold and shape the earth, shooting piece by piece of stone at him. One by one, he switches, turns, and spins as the wind shapes his blade and in turn cuts down every block of earth coming towards him.

There’s a small shout that comes from her end and the wall comes careening towards him. A flick of his wrist and he quickly sucks the dew from the grass and traps the wall of dirt behind a cage of pure water. Tyril yanks the wall to the side where it collapses uselessly in a heap of mud.

He barely manages to catch her wrist still bearing the knife and arcing straight for his heart. The blade grazes his armor but her free hand lifts and he’s forced to drop his sword to grab the wrist holding a ball of fire in her palm. They stare deep into each other’s eyes—the controlled anger is no longer controlled.

Hurt flits through her gaze and he wants to shrivel up. Yearning follows, but the tears well up in the corners of her eyes and he knows what this is about. He squeezes her wrist painfully tight, pressing his thumb and middle finger on her pressure points, forcing the blade out of her hand. His body pivots and they both go tumbling to the ground. One knee pins her body and he slams her wrists to the ground, funneling enough of his magic to drown out the power that courses through her.

Her head snaps back and a bitter laugh bubbles in her throat.

“Submit!” he snarls. “Ger avet tina’lashen!”

“Speak plainly, fool!” she spits back, body thrashing under his weight. “I won’t give in to something I don’t understand!”

It cuts.

She can’t know the way her words slip through the chasm of his ears and buries deep in his head—he hasn’t exactly made this easy for either of them. Tyril squeezes her wrists and she finally looks at him, anger and confusion mixing in an uncomfortable union within her eyes. A tremble rises in him and he stares at her, dark hair falling all around her in a dark curtain.

Ashala holds his gaze for only another brief moment before she turns away. “Get off me.”

Tyril rises slowly and does nothing when she climbs back to her feet. He watches her back for a time as she tears through the belongings wrapped on the ground. His mouth opens but no sound comes out.

Fixing things—he’s supposed to be fixing things. But every action rips open a new wound. He takes and she does nothing but give. How is he meant to fix this? How does he even start?

“What else would I expect?” His head snaps up in her direction. “I don’t know what you want. I try to see you and you won’t show me anything. I’m trying, Tyril, I am trying!” When she snaps towards him, his heart further shatters. Tears streak down her face but her furious expression doesn’t change. His fingers twitch and she angrily rubs her cheeks. “I just want you to talk to me!”

“Ashala—”

“I’m so tired, Tyril.”

He rises to his feet, both hands raised in the air. Silence hangs over the clearing, not a sound between them even as her tears fall and his heart slams violently against his ribcage. On her own, she seems so small.

Sex for the sake of it, romance built on political mobility, and a genuine love he ran away from because he couldn’t stomach the idea of being responsible for someone else’s feelings for him—everything about this couldn’t be further from the types of love he’s come to know.

Tyril takes a step forward and swallows a shaky breath—she doesn’t move.

“Throw it,” he says.

Her brow furrows. “Throw…it?”

He gestures at the item in her hand—a bottle of salve wrapped in a cloth. Tyril takes another step forward and points to his head. “Throw it.”

She looks at him as if he’s grown three heads. For all the awkwardness he’s generating, he might as well have. Her gaze flits to the bottle and back to him.

“I will do no such thing,” she says.

“Humor me—”

“No.”

His lips press together. “I just—”

“Throwing a bottle at you is not going to temper the frustration inside me.” She stuffs the bottle back into her pack and rounds on him, crossing her arms. “I do not exercise violence against the ones I love when I am angry at them.”

His hands flail.

“You just—” He looks around at the damage they’ve done—scorch marks streaking across the ground, a giant pile of mud and grass, and magic still teeming in the air. “You just tried to stab me!”

“Because I hate you.” He tries to ignore the way his heart shatters at the words finally tumbling from her lips. Ashala averts her gaze for a moment. Her hands gently rub at her arms. “I hate the way you look at me. I hate that your mouth opens but nothing real comes out anymore. I hate…a lot about you right now.” His head bows. “And you’ve done nothing to reverse these feelings,” she continues. “I never thought I’d yearn for the version of you I met in the beginning, always bemoaning humes and the simplistic education of elven culture they provided me. At least you—”

“I don’t!” He snaps, flinching as soon as the words leave his mouth. “I’m sorry…I didn’t…That wasn’t right of me to criticize—not then and certainly not now. What you’ve managed to learn—what your parents taught you—was impressive on its own. I never should have said those things.” She stares at him for a moment, eyes boring deep into him as he slowly approaches. He stands directly in front of her now but ensures there is an appropriate chasm of space between them. A rueful smile tugs at his lips. “I like to think I’ve changed. Or rather, that I’m trying to.”

“I…suppose you have. Somewhat.”

“Not in the ways that matter, unfortunately,” he says, laughing just a bit. His hands go limp at his sides because he knows he can’t trust himself. He can remember the last time she let him touch her unprompted. His hands flex recalling the memory of soft wrists and overworked hands. “The truth is stranger than you think. Or maybe it isn’t—I’m not entirely sure. I’m not usually this unprepared.”

“I can see that,” she says. Her silence is profound and he wonders for a moment if pressing any further is even worth the damage he’s already done.

“I would’ve been married by now.” He waits for her expression to change but it doesn’t. She knows enough about matters of nobility to know the idea isn’t unusual, but he hasn’t exactly been forthright either. “My wife would’ve been a good marriage match but I never would’ve slept with her. Ours was a bond built on friendship and our union would’ve been purely political.”

Her eyes search his. “And she was good to you? She cared for you as you did for her?”

“This is…” His voice wavers at first. “I want to say ‘yes,’ because she did in the beginning. She changed—her demeanor shed and her words became more cruel as time went on. It’s…” Tyril shakes his head and pushes on. “This…This isn’t what I…I was trying to...”

She gives him the room to let the silence fester for a moment, neither one of them quite sure how to proceed from here. It’s a story for another time but there is a fundamental purpose. He swallows and stares at her.

“I’m afraid of you,” he starts. “People tried to kill me in Undermount—outside of it too, but I was never afraid of what came next. I was damn near a child when my parents decided my place as heir and I shouldered that burden without question.” He thinks of the bright eyed boy he once was—the arrogant prince and the studious pupil. A life a luxury and all he ever wanted was always at his fingertips, yet none of that could prepare him for this moment. “The first person who told me he loved me—I ran away from him. His family discovered our relationship and encouraged him to use me for their gain—he told them he would be disowned first and confessed to me later that week.”

Her eyes widen and her mouth opens. “Why?”

“Because I was a fool,” he answers and scrubs a hand through his hair. “Love is so perfectly defined in our culture yet it isn’t until now that I’ve realized just how terrifying the notion truly is.” Tyril pauses for a long moment. “I’ve run from so much—from Lusehene, from my shame… I’m tired too, Ashala. I’m so incredibly tired.”

She touches his shoulder and the act almost steals the breath from him in an instant, the very thing he’s wanted since he saw her hours ago—a gentle and warm hand, heat pulsing through her palm. She pulls away too quickly but her mark already lingers. He can’t bear it anymore.

“You are running from me?” she asks. She pities him and he hates it. He hates that she can understand his meanings so quickly when he’s not trying and he hates that he has to show her all the mangled emotions inside of him when he finally wants to let her understand. “Was that all it was? Was I so blinded by my anger that I refused to see it? Perhaps we are both cowards, Tyril. Maybe we both aren’t so good at anything.”

“No, don’t. It was me that ran away,” he whispers.

“Yet it’s always you that comes back,” she counters. Ashala shakes her head. “You claim you are afraid but you want to try anyway? I’ve never known a more indecisive man.”

“Indecisive…” He repeats, lips quirking a bit.

His choices used to be so easy when everything was for house and glory. Casting another house into ruin was a feat he could pull off without a second thought. Playing on old feuds and manipulating others was an art he mastered as a child. Love was no less a political tool. Love built on powerful friendships, love built on romantic and sexual bonds, love of family, love of all kinds has always been ingrained within Undermount’s society, holding up its foundations and crumbling just as easily when the moment calls for it.

But it isn’t as simple as knowing how to use and shape it when necessary. He knew what his former lovers meant when they told him they loved him—safety, security, and escapism. Undermount is a society that demands much and relies on total obedience to the systems that keep it running. Playing the game is how one survives.

He could love them—he did love them. But he loved the system that provided him comfort much more.

He loved knowing his feelings were his own and his motivations didn’t need further interrogation. He loved knowing he was protected because he knew how to play the game correctly. He loved so many and they loved him too, but he loved knowing that he never had to worry about getting hurt because the game was the best lover he ever had—it would only betray him if he didn’t play it right.

“I’m afraid of you,” he says softly, eyes locking with Ashala’s. His body angles closer and she doesn’t move. He wishes she would move. Do something—run away from him. “I am afraid of what this is doing to me—what this will inevitably do to me.”

She blinks. “Speak plainly.”

Tyril stares deep into her eyes and he lifts his hands, gently and slowly. Fingertips graze the dark fabric clinging to her shoulders and her warmth weakly filters through the barrier. The first time he laid a hand upon her was her shoulders, strong and sure, the weight of the entire world resting on each as her journey pulls her along. She flinches very slightly but doesn’t break their gaze.

“These feelings in me are entirely new,” he starts. He shuffles closer, fills the entire space between them. “Trepidation, hesitation—I open my mouth to say something and my thoughts are overwhelmed by what my heart feels. I know the parts of me that have felt something like this before and my instinct is telling me that the cost outweighs the…the pain that vulnerability brings…” Ashala watches him quietly. His jaw works and his fingers curl, scraping the fabric clinging to her body. “I care about you. It’s strange even to say it out loud because it’s everything I swore I wouldn’t do out here. My mission is supposed to come before everything.”

“Why?” Her hands clasp his on her shoulders. “Why treat yourself this way? To what end?”

“It’s how I survived Undermount. Love is not foreign but it isn’t as freely given either.” Arrindale, Pythia, Lusehene—all he gave but each coming with insurmountable cost. What would he give in exchange for these bonds? What would they give in return? “Lovers, marriages, friendships—everything I ever felt and felt with someone outside of family was built on costs and benefits. What did a friendship earn me? What would I lose in exchange for a night of unattached sex? Thoughts, feelings—everything was a weight on my back. You called me indecisive but back then? Every choice I made was clear.”

Her quiet conceals a building storm, the surge of which will either break his heart for the last time or terrify him even further.

“Tyril…” She grips his wrists. “I don’t—”

“The first man I ever laid with seduced me for the sake of advancing his family’s station,” he interrupts. “Our relationship was built on a love that was fleeting at best but our intentions were clear. When I laid with a woman, our love was built on physical desire only. She needed an outlet and I used her as she used me—we understood the intent clearly.” His fingers spread and he squeezes her shoulders. “I have always been sure, always. I have taken risks and weighed the outcomes so many times in my head it even happens in my sleep. But now? Now I’m risking it all knowing that this fight—this war against the Shadow Court—could very well snatch it from me again!”

She grips him by the shoulders and pulls him close. Their foreheads touch and the breath rushes out of his lungs. Warmth abound everywhere and he missed this. He missed her touch, her skin, her smell, her power—and he’s so afraid of how quickly everything comes down all around him at her gentle urging.

“Tyril…” Ashala whispers, arms winding around his middle now. “Oh, you foolish, foolish man. Who told you to do this alone? Why would you think the burden is only yours to bear?”

“Because I am a prideful idiot,” he answers in a shaky breath. His hands cup her face and they part so he can look into her eyes—her haunting golden eyes that have kept him up at night and stolen every minute he’s spent in his dreams. “I care for you. I want you. I told myself I wouldn’t do this until my mission was completed but I care for you so much it hurts. I care for you so much it frightens me.”

“Of course you wait until now to say these things.” Tears prick the corners of her eyes and he catches them with his thumbs. “You are such a confusing man, you know? Irritated one minute and then thoughtful the next—you say things that make me wish you’d let me grow close and now you say I scare you?” She leans into him and smiles. “I see this man—beautiful and regal—an elf like I dreamed of once. A prince, even. Then you ran into me in the street and almost drew a blade on me. I hated you but then I saw you. You showed me and I showed you too. I stopped trying to show anyone anything about me for so long and then you…”

“I don’t know what happens from here,” he says, gently resting his forehead upon hers. “I don’t know if it’s...if I’ve squandered what we have but I wanted you to know. I needed you to know that my feelings—complicated as they are—remain genuine.”

They are trembling in each other’s grasps, shaking and breathing in shuddering gasps as the weight of everything lays itself bare beneath the moonlit night. Ashala tucks her head to his chest and he lets her listen to his heart beating hard in his chest. Tyril wipes stray tears from her tattooed cheeks and carefully tucks her locs away so he can see her—really see her.

He feels her shift and pulls back. Their distance leaves him yearning but she does not go far.

“Then show me,” she says. “No more guessing. You show me this truth from now on and you claim it if this is your desire.”

“It is,” he answers quickly. He slides a hand down her neck and soothingly rubs his thumb along her jaw. “I want this—I want you. But I cannot promise it will be easy now that the truth is known.”

“Show me anyway.” She offers the softest smile he has ever seen, the trepidation in her eyes still prevalent but the relief in her is just as apparent. He shares a smile of his own and he can feel it in his heart too—the fear and the anxiousness. “If we knew all the answers, things would be so simple but the world does not work this way. We take risks. We try things anyway because it’s within our nature.”

The old him would’ve disagreed. The old him was a man ruled by logic and the art of tipping the scales in his favor. That man was a fool.

And in many ways, he still is.

“My hands are still shaking,” he says, looking down where one of her hands now intertwine with his. She squeezes.

“Mine are too.”

When their eyes meet, he is lost along a golden path that winds around junctures and roads that seem never-ending. There is confusion but some parts certainty, calm but flutters of nervousness, and he wonders what she can see in the depths of his eyes. He gently lifts a hand and caresses her cheeks with his thumb—

And then her jaw—

Until he reaches her lips.

Tyril swallows.

“Can I…I want to…” he whispers, leaning closer. He glances up and golden pools swirl with heat, curiosity, and desire. Her hands lie flat upon his armored chest.

“Say it…” Tyril pulls her in, lips just barely hovering over hers, and her eyes flutter as she inhales sharply. Her fingers curl and scrape along the metal plate. “Say it, please.”

Time slows and the world around them dissolves into darkness save for the pale moonlight shining down on them. A tempest builds within him. Something ancient rumbles in his heart and branches throughout his body. Static ripples from fingers, down to his body, legs, and ends in his toes. Energy gathers all around, bits and pieces adding to the power already stirring within.

“I want to kiss you…”

Her lips—beautiful, wondrous lips—part and he shivers.

“Come.”

Slowly at first. He wants to savor it—hold it close to him when he dreams at night and find himself yearning miserably when the morning takes him away. There is no telling which presses forward first but they meet in a clash of heat and crackling energy. A sweet taste rolls across the tip of his tongue and when he draws a short breath, a stream of flame trickles down his throat. He gasps again, parting and looking into her eyes.

Molten and golden depths...

Again and their lips connect while their hands scrabble for purchase, bodies molding into each other, and pure fire burning them from the inside out. His grip hardens as he lures her in with a hand on her neck. The other slips down and settles at the small of her back, trapping her to him, and a gentle sigh slips from him as her fingers rake through his hair and grip back.

Oh, so many sensations he will commit to memory. Billowing smoke floods his lungs as fire steadily funnels through every muscle in his body and brands her desire onto his very bones. Nails drag through his tresses and burrow into his scalp, pulling and soothing him in one as their lips part and their breathing grows more uneven. That ancient and terrifying power buried deep bubbles and cracks through the surface, sparks snapping beneath his fingertips and he swallows the moan she releases.

The raging storm swells within him and raises bumps along his flesh, draws small gasps from her throat, and further stokes the flame roaring within her. It happens to all with the affliction—magic draws from nature and the body is perfectly natural in all its splendor. Where his power sparks, hers consumes. They feed each other—feed from each other—hands searching, lips tasting, tongues tracing, and hearts swelling as they devour every bit of desire the other provides.

It ends as soon as it begins with both struggling to catch their breath. Tyril rests his forehead upon hers, eyes still closed and hands still squeezing her tight where they rest. She is sweeter than the sweetest wine he has ever tasted and he swears he will never get used to this heady feeling.

His eyes crack open and he watches her carefully. A trembling hand hovers close to her lips but she dare not touch them. Their magic lingers where their bodies touched, burning a sensual path along skin and hair. Her golden eyes meet his and his heart thrums anew.

A long time passes before either of them speak.

“This is dangerous,” she whispers hoarsely. Tyril slightly bows his head but his face remains passive. Ashala rests her hand on her chest and trails her fingers up her neck, grasping at his hand still gently clutching her. “Moon and stars—you might kill me well before this grows into something much deeper.”

He blinks at first, ears twitching as he repeats her words in his head, and then a mischievous smile spreads across his face.

“Then I apologize in advance,” he shifts his hand and gently brushes a thumb across her cheek, “because I truly don’t want to return to how things were before.”

“Gods forbid, I refuse to tolerate that again.” A guilty look flashes in her eyes and she presses when he says nothing in return. “But we understand each other now, yes? Is it safe to claim that there is something here that we both want?”

His heart flutters—we.

“Yes…Yes, I want you,” he affirms. He opens his mouth but then closes it. It is far too easy to move too quickly after this but he knows better. At least, he hopes he does. “I cannot promise that this is going to be easy moving forward. This is still very new to me but I won’t drag my feet as I did before. What we have,” he drops a hand and laces their fingers together, “I don’t want to lose this feeling any time soon. I want to continue nurturing it for as long as you’ll allow me the privilege.”

She rolls her eyes though a smile still spreads across her face.

“These words you string together…they’re lofty. But I do trust that you are earnest in this desire of yours,” she says. Ashala squeezes his hand and raises her head. “I’ve known others that had the gift speech, much like you do. Many of them had no qualms about using that gift to attain things I should not have given. Words are lovely but…there’s always more. More to show, more to give…”

His lips quirk though his heart still pounds in his chest. Undermount taught him many lessons critical to his survival outside the walls, but there are some things he is all too glad to shed. Concealing the truth for personal gain works only for so long, but even still there are thing he knows they both aren’t ready to reveal just yet.

And it’s alright.

Not knowing what happens next won’t terrify him as much now that things are more certain. He can proceed—they can proceed—and he will teach his hardened heart that there are other ways to feel aside from cautious.

They walk back in silence, nothing stirring save for the rustle of the leaves and their boots crunching twigs beneath their feet. Tyril looks down at Ashala and she looks back up at him, their shoulders brushing against one another as they quietly make their way back to camp.

[lowkeyaesthvtic]

Evil Karma - Chapter 6

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Word Count: 2,147

Summary: After explaining her plan, Sofi gets a taste of true heaven...or is it true hell?

Pairings: Harry x Uma x OC

Rating: M

Warnings: swear words, descriptive foreplay, LOTS of dirty talk, a bit of orgasm denial, switch!OC, switch!Harry, dom!Uma, like a little bit of thigh riding?, FFM threesome, I’ll add more if I need to

Taglist: @hookedradge @descendantofthesparrow @newtshairdryer and again ANYBODY ELSE who wants to!!!

Author’s Note: This is my first time writing smut so I’m really sorry if it seems a bit rushed!!

Harry, Uma and I sat around the giant black cauldron in front of us. Uma had known very little about the room where her mother would fantasize about using her magic, but she knew enough to know where it was. “Wait, so how are we going to use Neverland magic if evil magic doesn’t work here?” Harry sat up straight and leaned forward to peak inside the cauldron, seeing nothing but a dark and seemingly bottomless abyss.

“That’s the point of the plan, Hooky. When Uma and I drink this potion, we’ll be able to use our magic again. We just need to wait until Mal comes back to the Isle. When she does, her beastly beau will follow suit, hoping to bring her back to the pretty pink clutches of Auradon. Mal’s little friends will probably somehow find out and go to the Isle with him to protect their King. At a moment where Ben isn’t the priority, we shackle him up and keep him tied in the Chip Shoppe. While he’s tied up, I’ll find a way to make him angry so he’ll show his primal instincts. Once that happens, just a few hairs from his head and we’ll be all set for revenge.” It was something I had theorized to Uma when I first came to the Isle. The magic that allows Ben to change from man to beast comes from his father. Ben’s father was the creator of the Isle and likely the reason that it’s an island with no magic, considering Belle has never had any magic capability. So, if we were to fight the fire with the match that sparked it, maybe the flame would dim down long enough for Uma and I to work our magic.

“How are you so sure that Mal will come back to the Isle to start all of this?” Uma kept a somewhat indifferent expression. I laid my hand down on her thigh and let my thumb roam around it rhythmically.

“You and I both know that Mal isn’t loving the princess act, my Captain. She’s bound to come back and try to reclaim her old territory eventually.”

“You haven’t even met her, duckling, how can you be so sure?” Harry leaned closer to me, resting his hook on the back of my neck. The sudden cold feeling from the metal raised goosebumps on my skin. I looked over to Uma, raising an eyebrow to ask permission. She gave a small nod, a teasing smirk spreading across her face.

I turned towards Harry and swiftly positioned myself on top of his right thigh. “You see, Hooky. I’ve got a good read on people. When you’re able to see into other people’s minds for as long as I was able to, it’s a lot easier to know things about people, even when they don’t tell you.”

Uma smiled and stood up before walking over to Harry and I. She sat herself on Harry’s other thigh and looked to me in amusement. “Really? Prove it, then, island girl.” My eyes shifted over to him, noticing his tongue subtly lingering across his bottom lip.

“Only if he wants me to,” A teasing chuckle came out in response. He leaned up from where he was sitting, moving his hands toward my top. I rolled my eyes and used a hand to push him back so he was leaning against the chair, practically laying down. “Nice to know you’re excited, but I can’t understand you if you don’t use your words.” He smirked and perked his chin up in a nod.

“Why don’t you make me, huh, duckling?” I shrugged and ran my fingers through his hair before finding a small lock and giving a quick tug. Harry quietly yelped in pleasure and looked over to Uma, looking her up and down. When I took a quick glance at my Captain, her expression seemed indifferent, but I knew she couldn’t look away.

“Okay..please, Sofi, prove it to us. Prove it to me.” I nodded my head and leaned down onto him, beginning to leave small kisses on his neck. Since I still had part of his hair in my hand, I had more access to his neck and collarbone. I put my hand under his shirt and began trailing my hand across his chest.

“Well, to start, you’re not as dominant as people think you are. I mean, maybe you have your days where you’d rather thrust into one of us until we’re a quivering mess but more often than not, you secretly love it when we take our time. It’s interesting not being the tease for a change, isn’t it?” Uma quietly giggled behind me. She knew I was right. “Second, you realized you had feelings for Uma when you were jacking off in the shower one night and realized that what finished you off was the thought of her riding you. It’d start off with her gently moving naked across your thigh, pulling you close and leaving marks that would stay for weeks, then, eventually, she’d practically rip off your clothes and take all of you in her mouth…” I slowly took Harry’s jacket off of him and slipped my overshirt off afterward. Thinking he would let me take him further, he pulled me closer to him and wrapped his fingers around a lock of my hair.

“God..please continue…”

“Why should I? I’ve proven myself, haven’t I?” I leaned my head closer to his, our foreheads touching and our lips inches away.

“You’re not ready for what will happen if you don’t.” He lowered his voice to a husky whisper. “I’ll ravage you right here on this chair. Tear you until you’re spent and yet you’ll still be begging for more.” I smirked and swiftly pulled his lips to mine. His lips were soft but his movements were rough and primal. I’d felt some needy men in the past, but none had been so shameless, raging like a heavenly sunshower. In the heat and excitement, I can hear a quick and deep “do it,” slip from Harry’s lips. Before I could question anything, I felt the cold metallic sensation of Harry’s hook slip across the back of my neck. After a quick gasp, I look behind me to see Uma with her hat, jacket, and belt discarded. “Do you really think I’d let you unravel him without a little help? Tell me, when was the last time you experienced two people at once?” As quick as a light switch, I was rendered nearly speechless. I never knew how she did it to me, but there was always something about her that put me in some sort of spell. Now I understood why Harry always said Uma’s name like a prayer. In the right mood, Uma carried herself like a god. I turned back to look at her. With her jacket gone, the dress she was wearing under had become much more form fitting. “Well look who’s not using their words, now?” Harry chuckled from behind and leaned up, starting to kiss my neck just as I had done to him before.

“Settle down, Harry. Don’t think because we’ve found a weakness in our girl that it means you can go Alpha. We all know who’s in charge here, don’t we?” I nodded my head. She walked over to me and gently lifted my chin. Between Harry’s nails leaving scratches down my back and Uma’s lips gently dancing with me, I felt like I had an angel in front of me and a devil behind me. Uma’s kiss was of a warm fire after a day in the snow. Her hands roamed toward the strap of my shirt and moved it downward. “Get off of him for a moment. I’ve got a better idea.” I quickly obeyed, shifting off of Harry’s thigh and returning to where I sat before this escapade had begun. I could feel small hitches in my breath and warmth forming around me. Harry prowled over to my side, beginning to leave deep and rough kisses on my neck and shoulders. I already knew that this would bruise, but I couldn’t care less. Uma stood tall in front of me and let her dress fall to the floor. Her breasts were perky and seemed as soft as the rest of her supple skin.

“Maybe you have done your homework on us, duckling. But guess what? So have we.” Feeling Harry’s voice on my skin sent shivers down my spine. Uma sat on top of my lap and flittered her fingers around the strap to my top. I raised my arms over my head and threw my top to the floor as I took it off. She slowly began kissing down my chest and towards one breast as Harry licked and nibbled at the other. I could feel myself starting to rub my thighs together, trying to gain some friction. Uma quietly chuckles and slowly moves her hand down towards my pants, then slowly pressing two fingers against my clothed heat. I let out a soft huff of breath, eager for more. Uma momentarily stopped and looked to Harry.

“Let’s speed this up, who knows when ma might come through here.” He growled excitedly in response. In the blink of an eye, all of us were completely undressed. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, what I was feeling, what I had the privilege to be a part of. I had seen Harry shirtless a few times. We’d be training together and, in the heat of the moment, he’d practically rip it off and attempt to use his muscles and wile to throw me off. Mentally, it’d definitely make my thoughts wander, but not as much as it did now. To go with his tense and chiseled arms and chest, Harry had a distinct “v line” that lead down to his cock. It was relatively average in length and surprisingly well groomed. What would end up blowing my mind was his girth and a curve towards the head. Uma, however, was practically a whole new world. Despite the muscle in her attitude, Uma was more on the slender and petite side. There was a small curve cascading down her body that wasn’t much of an hourglass, but still seemed to hit all of the right places. Her hips swayed like the waves of the ocean, and I was the sand she’d weaken with her tide.

I wish I could recount all of the little details of what had happened, and usually I would be able to. The main thing I remembered was the contrast in style from the two of them. Harry was a tease, pacing himself achingly while staying attentive to the both of us. Even when I wasn’t the priority, he still found some way to lift me higher. His fingers and tongue were godlike, nearly omniscient of how to keep the Captain and I begging for more. He was quite the devil indeed. If Harry were a devil, Uma was his succubus. She’d lure you in, thinking of being gentle, making you believe that there was a chance of getting her to beg. But that was quite the contrary. While Harry had times were he would be fast and brutal, Uma was torturously slow with the both of us. She’d throw in tiny praises, letting the both of us know how well we were doing, but soon after she’d make these tiny little threats and hints of denial. “If you even try to come before I’m done with you, I’ll make you pay,” “Tell me who you belong to, or I’ll stop right now.” She was the last of the three of us to reach her peak, Harry locking his lips with hers while I tasted her for the first time.

By the time all three of us were done and cleaned up, Harry had passed out with his head on Uma’s lap. I laid gently onto her shoulder and ran my hands gently through Harry’s dark locks. There was something mesmerizing about seeing someone who was usually so chaotic look so at peace. “Does he always fall asleep so quickly?” I joked to Uma, keeping my eyes locked on the sleeping beauty below me.

“Always...what about you? You aren’t tired from all of that?”

“No, I am, trust me. I just don’t sleep very much. In Neverland, you never knew when a Lost Boy was going to break into your tent to cause a ruckus or when some animal would try to ravage your camp like a fat kid at a buffet.” Uma smiled and laid a soft kiss on the top of my head. Maybe I didn’t know whether or not this plan would work, but as long as I had these two by my side, I’ll cherish every second of it.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 26

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle.  It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes.  With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays.  Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3  |  Masterlist

—

Wednesday

Malcolm drove them along back roads to the distillery.  Curled up next to him, Rose watched the land fly past, rolling hills she hadn’t expected of the Highlands but had quickly grown to love.  He wasn’t speeding nearly as much as he had the day before, today driving with one hand on the wheel, the other on Rose’s knee.

“I expected more mountains,” she said apropos of nothing, glancing over at Malcolm.  “There aren’t as many as I thought.”

“Depends on where you are.”  He turned, heading for several low buildings not too far ahead.  “Generally speaking the mountains are north and west.  The further east, the lower the elevation.”

“Where’s Ben… Neville?”

“Nevis.  South, by several hours.  Roughly halfway between Inverness and Glasgow.  About… a hundred miles or so from here?  It’s beautiful down there.  You know those mountains in that show you like?  That’s Glencoe, which is just south of Ben Nevis.”

Rose’s eyes widened, turning to him.  “From Outlander?  Really?”

Pulling into a spot and parking, he grinned at her.  “You didn’t know they actually filmed up here?  What, thought it was all movie magic?  No, that’s Scotland.  And what’s more- speaking of pop culture filming locations…”

“Yeah?”  They climbed out, and he led her towards the entrance to the tasting room.

“Glenfinnan Viaduct is… oh, twenty miles?  Sounds a bit far, but it’s really right there, on the other side of the loch.  From Ben Nevis, not up here.”  He laughed at her scrunched up nose and tilted head.  “The curved viaduct, from Harry Potter.  Of course it’s been famous for long before that- the glamorous shot of the Jacobite train going around the curve.  Spectacular.”

She groaned softly.  “I suppose there’s no chance of us getting down there, huh?”

Malcolm let her walk through the door first, and she was so taken with the warm, bright room and the scent of whisky she almost missed his answer.  “Perhaps not this trip, but we can always come back.”

Perking back up, she went up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, breathing deeply.  His aftershave was almost drowned out by the competing distillery aromas, but she was still able to find it, and it made her belly clench.  His arm around her back tightened, pulling her closer, but a delighted call of his name made them break apart.

“Jamie!” Malcolm replied with delight, warmly embracing the man as he reached them.  “It’s good to see you.”

“Aye, and you,” the man replied in kind, before bowing slightly.  “Lord Gallifrey.”

“Stop that,” Malcolm waved impatiently, glancing around.  “Don’t start trouble.”  Returning his arm to around Rose’s waist, he gently nudged her forward.  “Jamie, this is Rose- my wife.  Rose, this is James McCrimmon, he owns and runs the Gallifrey Distillery.”

Rose beamed, more in response to Malcolm calling her his wife than anything else, but reached out to shake the man’s hand.  “It’s a pleasure.  I’m a big fan of your product – it’s incredible.”

“Thank you, my lady,” he smiled back, taking Rose’s hand and raising it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.  ���It is an honor.”

She flushed in response.  If one Scot flirting is good, two must be better.  He was good looking, roughly thirty, tall and well built without being overbearing, and he was wearing a kilt that showed off toned thighs and calves.  I wonder if I can get Malcolm to wear one of those.  He has to own one, right?  “I’m very interested in learning about your process, and what you do here.”

“Aye, a private tour, guided by yours truly.  And a tasting.  Are you ready to begin?”

They nodded eagerly in response, sharing excited smiles.

This would no doubt be the highlight of their trip – at least, of experiences outside the bedroom.  Or the hall closet.

She couldn’t wait.

-

Malcolm listened with one ear during the tour, lost in his thoughts.  It hadn’t taken him long to notice Jamie and Rose flirting.  After knowing her for so long he knew she wasn’t flirting with intent, that it was more her natural ability to connect with people, and Jamie had always been a flirt, but it had led him down a dark path to a somewhat disturbing revelation – they’d never kissed.

At least, not for the sake of kissing, or in greeting or parting- the only time their lips had met in the half-week (has it really only been four days?) since they first spent the night together was either immediately before, during, or after sex.  No goodnight kisses, no good morning kisses, nothing.

This had sent his world spinning, as he reconsidered everything that had happened between them – and more importantly, what hadn’t, namely those three little words that meant everything.  He’d never brought up their conversation from Sunday night, and neither had she, and he was seeing it all in a new light now, doubting everything.  What if she doesn’t love me?  He watched her peek into a still before throwing him a bright smile, leading him by their joined hands as she chattered with Jamie, the two so lost in conversation they didn’t notice his lack of reaction.

What if she knows I love her but doesn’t feel the same, but won’t say so?  That idea made him feel even worse, as doubt chewed away at the happiness in his soul.  He didn’t want her to humor him- if she didn’t want a relationship she should just say so.  After eight years of knowing each other, working side by side day in and day out, didn’t she know him well enough to know he would put her wants above his own?

As they stepped out into the sunshine, heading back to the tasting room for their samples, he concluded with a heavy heart, We need to talk.

Consequences be damned.

-

Rose forced her smile wider, nodding along to Jamie’s explanations, her mind a million miles away- and directly next to her, focused solely on Malcolm.  Almost as soon as the tour had started he’d shut down, and the longer it went on the more worried she grew.  As far as she could tell nothing had happened, nothing to trigger this.  It had just… started.

Accepting the small sample of whisky she took a sip, unable to focus on the taste (incredible, as always), instead watching Malcolm stare blankly at the proffered little cup for a long moment before accepting it, then throwing it back like a shot.

Jamie was frowning at him as well, gaze flickering to Rose who half-shrugged.

“Well, thank you for this, but we do need to be getting back to the house,” she said graciously; the other man clearly recognized the lie, but was kind enough to nod and play along anyway.

“Aye, I’m sure there’s much to do.  Thank you for taking the time to visit us,” he replied, guiding them back to the entrance. “I’ve already shipped another case to London for you, Mal, just ring me when you want the next.”

“Oh!”  Rose stopped dead, fumbling in her purse for the notecard she had prepared.  “Can you ship a few bottles of your best- absolute top of the line- to this address?”  She handed the card over.  “And can you send a bill up to the house?”

Jamie accepted it without hesitation, but shook his head.  “No need to bill-”

“No, I insist,” she said firmly.  “This place is lovely, and- just do it.  That’s an order.  Or a decree.  Or whatever it is you’re supposed to obey.  Alright?  Please.”

He pursed his lips in thought, glancing between them, but Rose just glared in response and Malcolm- Malcolm stared off into space, looking thoroughly unhappy.  “Aye, I’ll do it, but I reserve the right not to cash the cheque.  Fair enough?”

“Fine,” Rose nodded.  “Top shelf, right?  That’s for my Dad.”

“Yes, my lady,” Jamie sighed, smiling wryly.  “Thank you for your visit, it was lovely to meet you.”

With a last, tight smile, she nodded.  “Thank you!”

Once they were outside she let the smile fall, casting a worried look at her husband.

What happened?

-

“-At which point I decided what the hell, I’d hire the flamingos, they need the jobs, and we need new fishermen.  The unicorn wasn’t happy, but I said ‘Horny, be welcoming, I still need you to fertilize the garden’.  Malcolm, are you listening to me?”

He wasn’t.  Gaze fixed firmly on a spot on the wall roughly six inches to the left of Jack’s head, Malcolm stared ahead without seeing, still utterly lost in his thoughts.  The longer he spent scouring his memory for any proof of Rose’s love, the less he found, each precious memory reexamined and found lacking until he was left with nothing but a large, gaping wound in his chest where his heart had once resided.

“Huh?”

His cousin sighed, tossing the paperwork he held onto the desk and leaning back.  “What’s wrong?”

They were in Jack’s office, going over the budget for the last few years and adjusting the upcoming ones- or at least, that was the meeting’s purpose.  He hadn’t heard a word of it, though.

Not bothering to play dumb, Malcolm merely groaned and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as he hung his head.  “Do you think Rose is in love with me?”

“Your wife?  Yes.  What kind of bullshit question is that?”

“Forget that she’s my wife, just in general- do you think she’s in love with me?”

He waited for an answer that didn’t come, eventually raising his head to find Jack staring at him in incredulous disbelief.

“Mal, what in the name of fuck is going on?  What are you asking?  Why?”

He groaned, slumping back on the sofa.  “If I tell you, it doesn’t leave this room.”

“Deal.”

“That includes Ianto.”

His cousin made an exasperated sound.  “Obviously.  Would you just tell me?”

“Wallace changed his will, and said that I can only inherit the property after his death… if Rose and I got married.  That if we didn’t, everything would go to the government, and the Foundation would have to close.  So… we got married.  Only, I’m absolutely arse over teakettle for her, and have no idea if she feels the same,” he explained sadly to his folded hands, unable to meet Jack’s eye, not wanting to see the disgust or pity he would likely find there.

Silence reigned for a long moment, before a strangled noise came from the other side of the room.  Looking up, he found Jack clutching his stomach, bent in double and softly wheezing.

“Jack?”

“You numpty,” he gasped.  “You utter bampot.  How could you fall for that?”

Malcolm blinked, jaw dropping slightly as he realized the other man was laughing.  “What’re you on about?”

Something about his expression apparently broke Jack, for he fell out of his chair and began rolling on the floor holding his stomach, howling in earnest.

“Jack.  Jack.  Jack!”

Jack utterly ignored him, too wrapped up in his laughing fit to pay him any attention until Malcolm nudged him in the side with his foot – hard.

“Ow,” Jack wheezed, sitting up.  “You don’t have to kick me.”

“Well, you weren’t stopping on your own,” he grumped.  “Now, get up and explain yourself.”

He did, taking his grand old time, still snorting and snickering as he got himself situated again.  “Right, you realize that can’t be legal, to start.”

“What?”

“I don’t think you can leave a title to the government like that,” Jack chortled.  “Now, maybe if he had disinherited you if you didn’t marry her, that might be legal, but then it would pass to me.  He can’t just skip us.  I think you’ve been punked.”

Malcolm shook his head in denial.  “No, I talked to his lawyer-”

“Listen to me.  How could he skip me?  Why would he skip me?”

“To punish me?”

Jack gave him a look.  “How would that be a punishment, exactly?  You haven’t been here in what, fifteen years?  Sure, you manage the Foundation and see to the Townhouse, but that’s not really the Estate.  Purely from a practical side, I should be the Lord.  Now, I’m not begrudging you that, and am happy to serve as your proxy- and heir- but why would he punish both of us?  What did I do?”

He had several good points, but Malcolm was still unsure, finding it hard to believe Wallace would use his will to lie to or trick him.  “I suppose we’ll never know.”

“Eh…”  Leaning to the side, Jack opened a drawer and pulled out a sealed letter.  “Here.  I wasn’t supposed to give it to you until after you two sorted out your shit, but…”

He handed it over, and Malcolm accepted it gingerly, noting his uncle’s handwriting on it.

“What does it say?”

“It’s sealed,” Jack shrugged, before smirking at Malcolm’s skeptical expression.  “Just… read it.”

Oh, boy.  Wally, what did you do?

[dcschain]

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT MEME. | always accepting.

@mercysought​ asked: How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

The hot tallow sparks, leaps upwards with a myriad of pops as he throws the rabbit flesh to cook on the pan. Its butchered head stares at him from the block, bloodied cleaver beside it, the eye something vacant. Inside it, the wind of cold winter right around the corner. The cold, a song, a song no sane man would dance to. 

The voices come behind him, and come muffled. Carried on the wind, they sound like little more than whispers. Abebi, angry. And Chapman falling in her footsteps. Alain, low and calm, his father’s drawl, as sturdy as his blood’s a flame. 

He ignores them, and chooses the rabbits instead.

He has two more to butcher that are threaded: a miracle that will feed their bellies for a few days at least if he’s smart with the cooking. The remaining twelve, muties one way or another, will make good enough bait for larger game when hunting, and the fur, what’s there of it, will line their new shoes.

He was more than careful with the threaded hides. 

The voices behind him still fall, bits of anger he doesn’t heed as they tumble from the branches around him. Golden, red, catching blood and sunlight indiscriminately, wearing the end of summer like a death-bag. The rustle of the first fallen leaves as there’s footsteps. Chapman’s boots appear in his line of sight. He makes no notice of him, and hasn’t since the raid, and he knows it drives Chapman furious.

It is not pettiness and it is not immaturity. It is ritual: Chapman has not cried his pardon for his dinh, and so his dinh does not think him therefore worthy of his time. The hierarchy, even in war, is a stubborn beast. And it gives sanity to a world that’s got no sanity left in any of its rivers.

But there is one piece of the hierarchy Roland is refusing. One piece which sticks in the gob of the order of things, like a bone that’s too big to swallow, too small to cough out.

Chapman stands before the dinh and does not back down. He stands as if this were the Council Hall, as if the tables were mahogany and not dust, as if there were a right hand and a left hand beside Roland, instead of three boys with their father’s guns on their hips like the masks of their faces. Beneath which, the truth, the ugly truth of the world, is showing. That the time is coming for the curtain to fall. That the end has reared its head, and from the peaks you can see its beady eyes in the moonlight.

Amos Chapman is older than his king is. Greyer. Sturdier. He’s seen more wolves and had more claws to give him pain. He’s seen more harriers. He’s seen three dinhs in his lifetime, and the third sits in front of a campfire and cooks pilfered rabbits they took from a traitorous homestead.

Amos Chapman seeps tradition with every cracked, fatigued breath he can muster himself to give. And he can question the boy-king before him, in ways he never dared to question the father.

Amos Chapman spits in the fire. When behind him, Jamie makes a movement whether to chastise or punish, Roland silences and stills him with a gesture. Chapman snorts, looks over his shoulder to the Red Hand of the dinh and then again to the dinh. Roland blinks at the smile he gives him. Those teeth. All creatures of malice, yet not the sharpest smirk he’s seen, not by a long shot. Chapman learned from the world how to bare his fangs, but was never born with them. 

The slow blink and then the dismissal: he turns back to his newest rabbit to butcher, and the thudding of the cleaver as he decapitates it weighs down on an otherwise still air. Abebi hugs herself and moves away too briskly from Alain, whose eyes look so much like his father’s now. Cold in the late summer darkness that trickles and trickles, slowly, from the azures of day into a violent purple, the yellows of the moon, light screamed against the cloud and heavy gauze.

Chapman hunkers down, to be eye-level with this child. The ones who know Roland as first Ro and then as dinh see his hands clutch the rabbit a little bit tighter, blood oozing past his fingers as he holds it by the leg, already skinned before being butchered. 

“I won’t stand around as you lead us to perdition, boy.”

Again, the thudding of the cleaver. The snapping as he dislocates the joints to cut the limbs off easier. The silence. The silence that crawls out of his eyes like the singing of ice comes from frozen lakes. The untrained foot that walks thinking them solid and does not see the hairline-cracks in the white-blue surface. 

No ice is truly blue. 

It reflects the sky. 

Chapman has the resolve at least to not reach across and touch Roland. He wants to, and Roland can see this from the way he leans in his hunker and the way his right hand tenses, untenses, clenches, unclenches. And hovers. Closer to Chapman’s own body than his, but the intent, the movement, the want -- all there. Roland reads it from his clenching jaw and his darting tongue. 

Whatever he said before when the wind was carrying it to him and he was not listening, it hangs here too. It hangs. Chapman’s tying the noose himself and is ready to pull it.

“You spit on your father’s face, so ya do, and ya can’t even kennit.”

The knife sinks effortlessly along the rabbit’s spine. The seeping crunch of metal to bone. 

“His pride rot ya father’s house and the maggots saw it good enough to eat it.”

The knife over the ribs, to detach the flesh and take the back meat off. The ripping noise and then the scraping.

“Cully, the rot’s eaten at you too. Ain’t no dinh that’s never worn the title. Gilead-dinh I understand, mayhap, for we’ve got no Gilead left to return to, but cam-dinh? Refusing that be like refusing the Tower itself!”

The Deschain’s knife pins the head of the rabbit his son just butchered to the block he’s using for his butchering. It shatters the cancerous growths and breaks past the skull and into the brain. In. Deep. If rage could ever hold a gaze, the rabbit’s glassy eyes spill over with it.

“Kian delah-kensa-thea. Chapman-sai.”

Heed me very well. Sai Chapman. 

Abebi shivers. Roland’s voice is the voice of a thousand years before him. It’s the voice of thirty generations. It is low, so terribly low, close to the mud and the muck and the radioactivity warnings. 

It commemorates no esteemed deed.

“Thee said it yourself. There be no Gilead to return to. When the bastard John Farson’s head finds its way to my pike, then we may speak once more of cam-dinh and cam-a-cam-mal, Gan willing its waters.”

He yanks the knife out of the head. It rolls off the block and lands in front of Chapman, blood and brain oozing. Its mouth hangs open. 

“If thee takes our hope from us, you miserable cur, then Farson’s already won.”

Farson won the day he gutted my father like a Fair-day fish, a thought which makes Alain flinch when he finds the aftertaste of it in Roland’s head. He shares a look with Cuthbert, who watches with those disquieting, dark eyes.

He resumes his thankless task. Skin. Decapitate. Butcher. Repeat. His audience is over, the throne-room to be vacated. Chapman still hunkers, and hungers, for whatever’s left of the life he once knew. He’d sink his teeth in its heart if he could. 

But the king with his blue eyes and daft hands has nothing else to say to him, or to anyone else assembled there. He barely dignifies Chapman with a second look. 

Abebi follows Chapman when he storms away, and over her shoulder she sees how the dinh watches them go, and that calm, the way he keeps on skinning, on butchering, fills her belly with enough anger to wish him dead.

The thought is sudden, and the thought scares her, and shames her. She smothers it and breaks its neck, and tells herself he is only trapped, like all of them, beneath their fathers’ and mothers’ ghosts.

[darkredehmption]

Workout

*~*~*~*~*

Malachi:

I felt tested, and I liked it.

There was something to be said for training with vampires. A lifetime of training with humans, hunters, had certainly made me strong, fast, and able to face the nasties in the night, but it hadn’t always challenged me.

Not like this.

A couple weeks of living in the manse, and every day I’d trained with one of the Brothers, or their trainees. I sensed the flicker of resentment from the trainees at my late arrival yet early inclusion with the warriors. After a few rounds of ‘me’ putting ‘them’ on their backs though, it faded. I had the skill to step up - I didn’t need to be taught how to use a weapon, explosives, or anything else the Brothers might throw at me. I just had to learn how to work with them. Know their movements, their patterns, and react accordingly.

That’s what this was. 

I dodged another fist from Butch, twisting as I did to catch it and flip him over my shoulder. He grunted as he hit the mat, but before I could deliver another punch to take him out of this round Vishous was there. His cold diamond eyes let me know that touching Butch meant he’d break something important of mine, so I darted back, evading his swings. Then Zsadist was there, countering his Brothers’ moves to create a buffer. I went for Cop again, but the male was already up and moving away, backing Vishous up. Zsadist leapt back to my side.

The scent of the male, the fluid twist and movements of his body, threatened to distract me, even as I wrenched my mind away from how glorious he looked naked. There was a part of me that wondered if that was the point of this session; being able to divorce my affection for the male to do the job. These two Brothers weren’t stupid; by now, they had to have an inclination that Zsadist and I were well and truly entangled.

“Switch.”

The command came from Butch, and just like that, I twisted and lunged for Zsadist. Now Butch was my ally, and Zsadist my opponent with Vishous. Butch caught V’s hand as it shot toward me and the pair engaged. I caught Zsadist around the waist and lifted to take him off his feet, but my male was no push over. He wrapped his legs around my waist and threw his weight back, ruining my own balance and sending us both to the floor. He flipped us, and I struggled to wriggle free even as his hands grappled to create a lock. I found a nerve in his leg and jabbed it to get him to let go.

Zsadist:

[The angel was great in training. Not that I doubted him for a second. More so I was relieved that we wouldn’t have to go through all the steps as if we had a trainee on our hands. Weeks had gone by with the male in the mansion and I had to say it was nice. I mean we trained with all the Brothers then snuck up to my room for more make out sessions. The angel liked those and so did I. Phury was right though. The others were definitely catching on. I just feel like they looked at me in a different way. Hell maybe I’m reading way too much into it. 

Pulling away from my thoughts as I feel a blow to my side. Looking up at Vishous who couldn’t help but give the angel a look every now and then. It wasn’t a “I’m checking you out” look. Which was good because I didn’t feel like getting all growly. No, it was more of a you better watch where you touch my roommate. Which had me thinking. Was V just protected over his best friend or was I missing something else? Another hit came my way but luckily I blocked it, ending up right beside the angel. Then I heard Butch telling us to switch. Lifting my head to see a hint of a smirk on his face. Oh yeah something was up. Nevertheless I leaped into action on full attack mode.

Before I could do anything the male instantly went for my waist, trying his hardest to pull be down. Though I don’t budge. Instead I locked my legs around him and pulled us onto the floor. Letting out a grunt as my back hit the mats, quickly moving to get on top of him. My hands pinned his wrist down, but when I pulled one back to give him a hit I got one to my leg. Gritting my teeth as I jerk in my hold giving him a chance to break free. My golden eyes narrow and my fangs elongate slowly, though I do my best to not show them off. 

Quickly I get up and lunges forward again. Only this time we throw punches together and are completely in sync with each other. I swore it was like you were watching two people dance. Every hit I threw he blocked and vice versa. Finally I get one in, knocking his head back as my fist connected with his jaw. I didn’t hit him too hard though. Wasn’t trying to knock him out just more back him off. He pays me back with one which just makes me want to slam him against that wall and do all the naughty things to him. Placing my hands on my hips as I pant and shake those thoughts from my head. Come on Z not now. Not here.]

That was good. Fuck that was really good. [I give a fangy grin then looks up to see Vishous and Butch wide eyed staring. Shit. Did I do something inappropriate? Raising a brow I watch as the Brothers compose themselves. Vishous lights a hand rolled, cause it was clearly break time, while Butch chuckles and takes a sip of his water. “You guys...fight well together. That was epic to watch.” I lift my shoulders in a shrug before gazing over at the angel. What I wouldn’t do to have us alone right now.]

Mal:

Zsadist never held back, short of knocking me out, and I was grateful for that. I paid him the same courtesy; my punches were designed to hurt, stopping shy of incapacitating, and we moved like we’d been fighting together, or against each other, for decades, not days. The harmony of the moment was enough to make the world fade to the background, if only slightly. After all, the whole point of this exercise was to be aware of your surroundings. Your opponents. Your allies.

As he complimented me I grinned, then glanced sideways as the other male’s watched us. After a beat I straightened from my half crouch, noting Vishous calling break time by pulling out a hand rolled. Nodding to Butch at his words, I offer a lopsided shrug and a rueful grin.

“I’ve trained with a lot of different people. Maybe that helps,” I offer, trying to downplay it. Not to mention ignore the vibe I was getting from Zsadist. If it had just been the pair of us, there was every chance we’d have been fighting naked and I’d already be pounded into the wall. 

“This is the first time I’ve trained with this kind of directive,” I continue, folding my arms as I look to Butch. “Shifting partners, or allies. But it makes sense. In the field, anything could separate you from your partner, and adjusting to back up or a new foe is important.”

The former Cop nodded his agreement. 

“If this life has taught me anything so far it’s that ‘everything’ can turn shit side up real fuckin’ quick. Better to be ready for that.”

“I know plenty of hunters that would agree with you. Myself included.”

I glanced over at Zsadist as Butch looked to Vishous and murmured something low. I gave my male a wink, then turned my attention back to the other Brothers.

“Speaking of your hunter pals, maybe it’s time you n’ me have a chat about all that,” Butch said, a little louder as he looked from Vishous to me.

I couldn’t help it. I tensed. 

My mahmen’s words darted through my head again; that I had to warn them about me. 

But it was too soon… 

“A… chat?”

My eyes went to Zsadist again. I had to wonder if he could identify everything in that glance; my uncertainty. The bolt of fear. 

Zsadist:

[Of course. A chat. It was a chat I had with many trainees before. Was almost like a mental check to make sure everything was good up there in his head. See distractions can cause someone to go hurt. So we made sure we got all problems and any issues out of the way before someone goes out on the field. It also was a good chance to get to know the trainee better. Find out about their home life and what not. I mean even though I’ve been spending a lot of time with the male doesn’t mean I actually know a lot about him. Hell he could have a whole bag of issues like me. Then again I don’t think anyone had the amount of baggage I had. 

Grunting as I move to grab two water bottles. Handing one off to the angel I can’t help but twitch as I feel that spark between us when we touch. Damn. Always gets me. I try to give him a reassuring look. The male looked a little spooked when Butch mentioned about having a chat with him. Gazing over at the cop before speaking up.]

Is that something you wanna do here? Hell how comfortable would you be if three Brothers all stood around asking questions. I mean...I can always chat with him. 

[Butch looks at V then back at me. “Hey...you spent enough time with him. I mean he’s part of the team now and I think he should get to know us all. So maybe it would be good if Vishous or I had a chat with him.” Grunting loudly before I take a few swigs of my water.]

Yeah sure. Fine. Go ahead Butch. Chat him up. [Like hell I was going to have Vishous do the interview. He could be a little easier to talk to than V. Fuck why was I so protective over him. Oh right cause MINE. Shakes there thoughts from my head before I move over to Vishous.] 

Wanna continue? [V smirks wide around his hand rolled and gives a nod. “Fuck yeah I do.” Good. Maybe while we fought a bit Butch and Mal could have some space to talk. Though the thought of leaving the angel alone didn’t sit right with me. Not that I didn’t trust cop. I trusted all my Brothers. I was just greedy as fuck and wanted him all to myself.] 

Mal:

Accepting the water bottle with a grateful nod, I force myself not to react as a spark leaps between our fingers. Meeting that golden gaze, I cracked the lid and took a sip, relieved at the reassuring light in his eyes. At his question, I wanted to nod like a bobble head on crack, but instead I simply let my own eyes go between the Brothers, waiting.

Well, if it couldn’t be Z, at least it wasn’t Vishous. Something about the male’s diamond gaze made me feel like he was seeing beneath my skin, to my very soul. Unsettling when you think how many secrets that soul carried.

As the Brothers resumed their fight I followed Butch away from the battle, half watching out of the corner of my eye, right until we were at the door and out into the hall.

“You look nervous.”

Drinking from the bottle to give myself a beat to consider my response, I shrugged, wiping my mouth as I put the cap back on.

“Never really been the sharing n’ caring sort. Not like professional hunters sit down for job interviews or to chat about their feelings,” I point out, tone mild as I stepped through the door the former Cop was holding open, into an office space. After our no holds bar fight in the gym, the space seemed too small for our energy, but somehow we fit.

“Professional hunters…” Butch repeated, taking a seat and kicking back in the chair. “What’s that like? I mean, a couple years ago I’d have said you were crazy and checked your asylum release papers,” he added ruefully, then gestured to himself. “But now… I’m half a vampire, so I can’t really talk.”

Looking at the bottle in my lap, I thought about the question. A glib response was always on the tip of my tongue, but I had the feeling that wasn’t going to fly right now. These males needed to know I was the calibre of person that could have their back every day and every night. 

“It’s quiet a lot of the time. Lonely. Most of the time you’re on the road by yourself, motels and back roads and bars in the middle of nowhere,” I admit, rubbing at the back of my head as I think of every night I lay in some flea bitten motel bed staring at the ceiling and considering if this was really my life. “The things we hunt though… the lives we save…” I glanced up, a small, rueful grin on my face. “It does make it worth it.”

“What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever hunted?” he asked curiously, leaning forward and bracing on the desk.

“Every ‘thing’ has its… issues,” I admit. “Some poltergeists are nasty bastards linked to items or places that went through something dark. Angry spirits might’ve died a violent death and you can’t find their bones to salt and burn them. Fuck, a wendigo moves faster than just about anything on two legs and you’re as much a meal as a threat to them,” I mutter, shaking my head. “It just… depends.”

I looked up, only to find Cop staring at me with a wide eyed, ‘wtf’ kinda expression. I gave a lopsided grin and shrugged. 

Zsadist:

[When Cop and Mal walk off I turn my attention toward Vishous who was busy putting out his blunt. He turns to face me and lowers into a crouch. I mimic him, my eyes lowered as they watched his every move. Suddenly he darts towards me and I’m ready for the attack. Dodging the fist he threw at me only to give him a good jab to his side. Though it didn’t faze him and he comes right back at me. One hand grabs ahold of my shoulder as he tries to take me down. Lifting my knee to break us up but he’s resistant. 

Struggling in his hold until we end up on the floor. The wind gets knocked out of me as I fall flat on my back. Fangs bared in a growl as I quickly reached up to block his next hit. Giving him one square in the jaw, watching as he snarls at me. This is why I loved to fight with Vishous. He was just as intense as the real thing which was good practice and he wasn’t afraid to get a little bloody.

We rolled on the mats, my legs moving up to wrap around his waist, pushing my body up so I can get him in a headlock. When I manage to I smirk, waiting for him to tap out. But he doesn’t. Instead the fucker managed to get a hit in to my side. And fuuuuuck me it was a hard one. Did he just crack a rib? I felt like my side was on fire and I couldn’t help but drop my arms from him. Feeling his hands shove at my shoulders to pin me down. “Give?” His diamond eyes sparkled as he looked down at me. But no way was I giving. Never. Slamming my head forward to smack against his own. Watching as his head snaps back and he tries to focus. It hurt but not as bad as he was hurting right now. 

As he is trying to recover I take my moment to lunge towards him again. This time I had him flat on his back. One hand at his throat as I bare my fangs once more. He smirks, a little blood dripping from his lip as he barely gets out. “Kinky Z. What’s next? Gonna tie me up?” Rolling my golden eyes before I push off of him and flops back onto the mat. Closing my eyes as I murmur.] 

You killed me with that hit to the side. Luckily I just fed…[Vishous rubbed at his eyes before lighting another hand rolled. Listening to the sound of his bic flicking. Then all I smelled was that Turkish tobacco he loved so much. “Oh yeah? Little angel blood?” My eyes flash open and a growl forms in my chest.] 

Fuck you. You don’t know what you’re talking about. [I hear a chuckle. “Oh I don’t? Then why do I smell him on you?” Point taken. Guess Phury was right. They would find out soon enough.] It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’ve just been helping him get acquainted is all. [Vishous laughs again then I lift my head to watch him shrug. “Fine. Then I guess you won’t mind if I invite him over the pit later for a little fun.” My fangs come out again as I let out a powerful growl that echoes in the gym.

 Quickly I move up only to knock the Brother back down again. He nearly chokes on the blunt between his lips. Watching as he tries to talk around it. “Will you fucking relax? I was testing you and it clearly worked.” I loosen my hold and he removes the blunt. “But damn I smell a whole lot of bonded male coming from you and all I can say is hallelujah.” Snorting as I push him back as I get up, my hand moving to rub at my side that was still sore.] 

It’s not what you think. Hell I don’t know what it is. I can’t explain it. [Vishous gets up and shrugs. “Don’t try to explain it just let it happen and see where the fuck it goes. Hell...you with a male. That’s interesting as fuck. Did not expect that one. Question. Who’s top and who’s bottom?” I blink then looks dumbfounded.] Who and what? [V laughs and slaps a hand to his knee. “Fuck man! You are too easy sometimes.” He clears his throat still chuckling. “You take him or does he take you?” Another growl forms in my chest.] WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ASKING ME THAT FOR? [Giving him a hard shove hearing him mumble “He’d make a good top with those wings.” Scrubbing my hands over my skull trim as I shake my head at the Brother.] Sick.

Mal:

“Alright, so you hunt whatever kills the innocent. I definitely get that. Probably came across a few cases like that when I was a cop,” Butch muttered, nodding his head. “The unsolved, didn’t make sense kind, right?”

I winced but nodded. 

“Pretty much. If it registered on your ‘the fuck is this shit’ meter, then it was probably more my kind of gig than yours. But if I try telling that to you guys…”

“We write you off as a loony toon,” he nodded, looking almost sheepish about it too, bless him. “You go through that a lot?”

Huh. Hadn’t thought about that. Now it was my turn to look sheepish.

“Actually… yeah. I’ve run into my fair share of cops that think I’m coo-coo for cocoa puffs. Which, maybe I should’ve mentioned before… but… I’m wanted by the law in a few states. Y’know, awkward moments of finding me over dead bodies and trying to explain it as hunting spirits and them not believing a word of it kinda thing?”

Butch actually snorted, flipping open his notepad and scribbling something down.

“I’ll have Vishous take a look. See if we can’t get you removed from them.”

“Even FBI ones?”

He stopped writing, pen mid word, and looked up.

“…FBI. Seriously?” I shrugged, scratching the back of my head awkwardly. He sighed and kept writing. “Alright. Not sure about the Federal Bureau but V will do what he can. Now, another thing…”

He set the pen down as I leant forward, my readiness to answer more questions encouraged by the idea I might no longer be a wanted man in several states. 

“…are you sleeping with Zsadist?”

I didn’t miss a beat.

“Yeah. Why?”

Butch didn’t flinch either. 

“That’ll complicate things on rotation.”

“Y’think so?”

Butch leant back in his chair, folding his arms as he gave me the once over. Like I’d changed in the last five minutes of talking to him.

“I know you’re like me. Only half. I get it. We don’t have all the same ticks the other Brothers do. But being out on rotation with your bonded mate is asking for trouble.”

“Woah, woah,” I held up a hand as I got to my feet, staring at him from across the desk, “‘bonded mate’? I wouldn’t take it that far.”

My heart back flipped. Bonded mates… seriously? Was that… was that what we were?

“No? Well, fact of the matter remains, we don’t pair up romantic partners out in the field. We don’t want to compromise each other. Even Qhuinn and Blay are put on separate pairings from each other,” he added, referencing the only other male/male couple I knew of in the manse that also fought. 

Bracing my hands on the desk, I gave the male a sunny smile.

“I’m a professional, Butch. As in, I tend to not let anything get in the way of getting the job done. Even living.” I arched a brow, a not so subtle reference to my taking a bullet, or two, to protect the Chosen and the Brothers out that night. Even if my main motivation had been protecting Zsadist… “So… pair me with whoever you like. But it doesn’t matter who I fight with, I’ll still get the job done.”

Zsadist:

[Vishous lights another blunt. Silent for a moment as he takes a few hits before speaking again. “Look. On a serious note I couldn’t be happier for you. I see a change in you Z. Yes you’ve already changed dramatically prior to the angel, with the golden eyes and eating right and what not. But now I actually see some light in those peepers of yours. You got this aura around you. Seem to be more relaxed. And I can’t help but hear that you definitely have a clear head on your shoulders. Normally your thoughts are very dark.”

My head lifts. Great. He knew all about the demons in my head. Watching as he waves a gloved hand. “Don’t be embarrassed, you should hear what’s in my head at times.” His face softened which was different to see on him. “But recently...it’s all good thoughts, and good vibes. Except when you then doubt it all and think you aren’t worthy.” He snorts. I rolled my eyes.]

Alright, enough...I don’t need the replay of what I’m thinking about. Barely can escape my own mind. [Taking in a deep breath as scrub a hand over my skull trim.] As for me being worthy...fuck. I know I’m gonna mess this shit up. Somehow he’s gonna get a taste of my fucked up past and run away in the other direction. [The Brother raises both brows, smoke curling at his lips as he speaks. “Okay and if he does then fuck him. Clearly it wasn't worth it if he thinks so little of you. Hell he disses you for your past then you send him to me.” V cracked his neck to make a point. I couldn’t help but let out a low laugh.]

Alright. Calm your ass. There will be no beating up the angel. [Bites back the growl in my chest that threatened to escape. Damn. I needed to get a control on this bonded male shit. Smirking as I change the subject.] You got a little blood on your lip. [He snorts then gives me a smirk back. “Yeah? How’s the rib?” I snorted loudly then gave my side a pat even though it hurt like hell.] Just fine. [The Brother laughs loudly as he flicks some ash on the floor. “You’re a fucking liar.” Making a face at him before I polish off my water bottle.]

The fuck is taking them so long? Hope Butch is going easy on him. [V nods as he moves towards the weights. “Relax. He may be an ex cop but he’ll go easy on the male. Hell...should have had me talk to him.” He waggles his brows as he sits on a bench. I narrow my eyes.] That is exactly why I offered Butch to talk to him, not you. [I move over to spot the Brother when he lays back and reaches for the barbell. V smirks and starts to lift it, grunting out. “Yeah, yeah. Knew that one.”] 

Mal:

Butch stared at me for a beat, then sighed and nodded, getting to his feet to match me. I pushed away from the table, straightening and fighting the impulse to fold my arms like I had any need to be defensive. I didn’t. And he hadn’t asked me about my dual nature. Not really. So I had that going for me.

“Alright, well, y’know if you ever need to talk or unburden or whatever, I’m here, right?”

Inclining my head, I accepted that at face value. Hunters weren’t the sharing and caring sort though, and I wasn’t about to break the mold. Not with that.

“Yeah, ‘preciate it.” I moved toward the door, grabbing the handle as he spoke again.

“Oh, and one more thing?”

I glanced back, arching a brow.

“Zsadist is a male of worth. And he’s been through more than enough in one lifetime. So while Phury might not say it, Vishous and I have no problem letting you know…” He paused, then gave a smile that was pure ‘I’m the good cop now, but I can be the bad cop any time’. “...you fuck with that male, and we’ll make your poltergeists look like a play date. Feel me?”

I grinned.

“You really channelled Vishous right then, y’know that, right? N’ I feel you. I didn’t come here to… to make Z’s life harder. I’m hoping I make it better,” I admit quietly. “That’s all we can ever hope for the people we care about.”

Butch reagrded me carefully, then nodded. Without another word we walked out, back into the hall, down it, and into the gym. The males inside were no longer fighting, but judging by the fresh scent of blood, they’d at least wounded each other in an effort to distract themselves. I tried not to shoot Vishous a filthy look as I noted Z was half holding one side. Like something hurt. Or was broken.

“You ladies have fun?”

Zsadist:

[Nallum. The word just popped into my head and I’m glad as fuck I didn’t speak it out loud. Turning my head slightly to see if V picked up on it. He was too busy looking at Cop. Figures. I help the Brother lift the barbell, watching as he gave the two a smirk. “Oh yeah, loads.” He winks at me then gets up. “I’ll be in the pit.” 

I watched as V moved to exit. He pauses in front of the angel and just stares at him for a heartbeat before heading out. Butch salutes us then follows Vishous out like a lost puppy. I swore those two did everything together. Snorting before I removed my hand from my side and walked over to the angel. 

Grabbing ahold of his hips, tugging him against me for a kiss. Yeah I was getting a little more ballsy with doing it in the manse. But let’s be real. So far already three Brothers knew and that’s not to say the others didn’t as well. My hands shifted to roam over his back. Wishing his wings were out. Then again I’d rather only I get the pleasure of seeing them and if someone walked in I wouldn’t be too happy. Pulling back so my eyes can search his own.] 

How did the talk go? If he said anything to hurt you I’ll fucking kill him. [Growls to make a point before lifting one of my hands to rest at his cheek. He was only gone for ten minutes and I already missed him. Yep. I was fucked.] 

Mal:

The kiss had me grinning, not least of all because the vampire did it with such ease - like he’d been doing it for years. With his hand stroking my back I felt almost relaxed. 

“Talk was fine,” I soothed, somewhat amused by the male’s possessive streak. If not a little enamored. “It’s ‘Butch’. I may not have been here that long, but I know that the Cop isn’t that kind of a dick,” I point out ruefully. “He just wanted to know about hunting. About the kind of life a hunter leads. That sort of shit.”

Glancing down, I put a gentle hand to what I now figured was a broken rib. Looking up through my lashes, I arched a brow.

“Vishous broke a rib?”

My eyes flashed white. I knew they had by the faint thrum of divine power that rippled through me. My skin stretched at my back, but my wings didn’t emerge - I was getting better at containing them around Zsadist. The male, thus far, had been quite good at ruining my defenses with his golden eyes, small smiles and light touches. 

Zsadist:

[Watching as his eyes turn from brown to white. Holding back a wince as he touches my sore side, giving a nod.] Yeah. Nothing major and not the first time. I got a good hit in and had him pinned in the end. 

[Winks before leaning in for another kiss. I could tell he was tense. The same tense I was not too long ago when Vishous was asking too many questions. Soon though I felt him relax against me. I guess my kisses were working. My hand lifts to cup his cheek as I pull back, lips twitching slightly.]

I think we are good to leave now. I mean… [Smirks as I head for the door.] I’m going up to my room...I suppose you are going to your own now. Yes?

[Turning my head so I don’t laugh as I tease the fuck out of the angel. Quickly I exit the gym and dart down the hallway. When I hear the door open I slow down in my steps so he wouldn’t catch me practically running through the tunnels like an idiot. I had to be about halfway down by now. Though I didn’t turn around. Instead I pretend like I was just going to head up to my room without him. Like I would ever. Fuck if everyone knew about us we probably could just get rid of his room all together.]