#BUT turns out she gets rid of said box in the inn

[shaykai]

Thinking about Vat’il’s bed in act 3

[neverchecking]

You could consider this a request but the idea was too good to pass and I'm sure you'll be feral and foaming at the mouth if it wasn't in ur req box the moment it actually opens. So I'm writing this here for you to keep in your inbox before I forget and you'll mull it over and keep it preserved until it's time for requests to flood in again—

Remember Sadistic Reader? I bring u this: Dom! Sadistic! Reader x Sub! (Any of the chain) 🧍‍♀️

A reader who, after their little vixen side is revealed, it comes into play in the bedroom. ESPECIALLY in punishments. Maybe darling goddess wasn't pleased at the method they used to rid off a vermin, or rather maybe they were upset how nearly reckless their way of handling the pest was that they nearly got themselves caught. Sure, they didn't get hurt or get caught in the end, but their safety was on a tightrope and Reader couldn't help but be concerned and if the poor Link brushes it off as it's fine? Boi are they having it in the bedroom.

But the twisted part is that they probs did it purposely too, because they were much too starved for reader's attention. Too bad Reader knows this as well, oh they know. But did they really have to go through such unnecessary lengths? It's a bit unfortunate, but none of them really thinks it's as unfortunate anyway; Reader knows they enjoy being edged for a long time like the freaks they are until when the time that they deemed fit to let them come undone comes, and Reader will sit back and enjoy them wither under her touch until the sun rises.

She could only wonder how Hylia, much less Zelda even— would think of seeing their chosen champions a withering mess before them without her even lifting a finger to touch them. But whether or not the musing was said aloud only falls on deaf ears, leaving Reader to relish the show of seeing her feral handsome guard dog be reduced to a pathetic puppy.

(u can make it freakier and make this the entire chain being punished and Reader is just watching them—)

Alright I'm out bye—

Bestie. My cinnamon apple. The absolute gem of my life.

This. Every part of this. I didn't necessarily do request more imagine-

So, imagine Reader just giving them the look the second they step back into the inn they've chosen to stay at. A look that just spells danger in bright flashing letters along with a sharp frown that shoots of a matching flare.

Imagine the Link immediately knowing that he's in deep shit the moment he sees that look. His ears are going back and his shoulders are hunched. His steps immediately become slower and he debates dropping to his knees then and there, begging for forgiveness right then and there.

Imagine Reader silently watching him, assessing him, waiting to see his reaction. When he doesn't give her one, she's scoffing softly before turning on her heels, beckoning him to follow with one finger calling him forward.

Imagine Link stumbling over his feet, staying just one step behind his Goddess, watching her ever neutral expression. It doesn't shift though. Doesn't give away anything. It's frustratingly even and doesn't give him anything to go off of. Should he plead with her? Beg her? Kiss the very ground she walks on for just an ounce of mercy?

imagine the Link tries to brush it off, heaven forbid, or even go as far as insisting that it was no big deal. He's waving a hand flippantly all while feeling a bead of sweat tickle his spine. This feeling of not knowing eats him alive. He hates it. But he wouldn't dare question, much less talk back to his Goddess. That would be a field day for the rest of the chain.

imagine the Reader's gaze turns razor sharp and her steps suddenly stop. He's stumbling over himself in an effort to keep the distance between them. She's stepping closer and closer before her fingers, intricately delicate but just as iron clad, are pinching his cheeks and pulling him closer to her own face. There's a look in her eyes that tells him everything he needs to know. She knows.

Imagine the Link immediately bowing before her, his face scrunched in terror as he tries to think of a way to fix the situation. He knew he was being sloppy. He knew that it would come back to his Goddess because he ensured it would. He just didn't expect for it to feel this way. Of course, he never wanted to worry her, never- that would be sacrilegious- but he had just felt so...withdrawn from her presence. Like an addict who had gone too long without a hit. And It was brutal.

Imagine Reader is doing nothing but watching him for a tense second. Determining what punishment is worthy enough of this crime. She cannot be too cruel. That would make her no better than that wretched Hylia. Or, heaven and hell forbid, Zelda. No, this had to be as fair as it would be memorable. Something that could be seen as enjoyable at first before the overstimulation buzzed their veins and poisoned their minds.

Imagine Reader tying their hands to the bedposts, along with the Link's ankles before teasing them unlike ever before. Dragging feathers up and down their dripping shaft. Circling the head of their cock with a small shard of ice and watching it melt in delicious little drips. Maybe even letting candles burn and fall around the plain of their stomach, watching it harden before doing it again.

Imagine Reader doing this over and over and over again, until the Link is little more than a whimpering mess, pleading with her for forgiveness. Crying that he would never do it again, never dream of worrying her like he had done. Singing his hail Mary's and howling her hymns. Being nothing but a broken soul for her to weave and knit into whatever she wishes. Whatever suits her cause.

Imagine Reader tauntingly cooing over how shattered he is beneath her. How she had him so tightly wound around her finger, ready to snap the second she let him. How she knows he knows that he is nothing like the hero Hylia had crowned. That Zelda had deemed worthy. He is nothing to them, but everything to her. And she'll cherish their souls and hearts. He knows she will.

Imagine Reader making damn sure the lesson is truly sticking before letting up even just the slightest.

Imagine the rest of the chain (Minus Wind of course) being able to do nothing but watch. To simultaneously both learn the same lesson and acknowledge a new one.

One being that Their Goddess is just as benevolent as she can be strict. Never malicious, and never vindictive, but insistent on them learning and living with the knowledge that she views them as worthy. Not as Heroes, but as people. Her followers.

And she would never let anything happen to her followers.

Someone recommended calling this the Sweet but Psycho AU and I'm kinda digging it.

[bleachanimefan1]

The Forgotten Promise Part 7

A Race Against Time,

Talea turned around several corridors, looking for Link but she didn't see him anywhere. A few minutes ago, she had lost him in the crowded streets while he was being chased by the dog. 

"Link! Where are you!?" She tried calling out to him again. As she rounded another corner, Talea had bumped into someone and stumbled back.

'I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention. I was looking for someone-" Talea's eyes widen when she saw that it was Skull Kid who she had bumped into.

"Skull Kid!"

"What are you doing out here? You promised to never leave the hideout." Skull Kid crossed his arms angrily.

"I was looking for you." Talea told him. "You got to change Link back. And you need to take that mask off! I don't know why you are doing this, but this is not the way! It's controlling you!"

"See. She's trying to get rid of me. We're so close. Do something about her now!" Skull Kid heard the mask talking to him.

"Link, Link, Link! That's all I ever hear from you!" Skull Kid shouted. "And now you're telling me to take off my mask..." Talea cut him off.

"But it's the truth!" Talea pleaded to him.

"And where did you hear this from?" Skull Kid asked.

"The mask salesman that you stole the mask from. He told us that any who wears that mask will bring catastrophe upon the world."

"I will never do that to you. I promised to grant your wish. Why would I lie to you?" the mask spoke.

"Very unlikely story, if what you're saying is true." Skull Kid dismissed.

"It's controlling you! You have to believe me, please! We're friends, aren't we?" Talea insisted to him. Skull Kid tensed up but stayed silent. "I promised that I wouldn't leave you and I won't." She reached a little closer almost reaching the mask. Skull Kid's hand shot out, grabbing Talea's wrist. A dark gleam appeared through the eyes of the mask.

"How about a front row seat, so you can see what I'm about to do?" Skull Kid spoke.

"No!" Talea screamed and the two vanished.

The woman took Link to her home which was an inn called the Stock Pot Inn. Link learned that the woman's name was Anju and she lived with mother and grandmother and that she was also to be engaged in the next few days. Anju set Link down and started to clean up his cuts. 

"Hey, are we in Hyrule?" Link asked her. Anju blinked at Link in confusion.

"Hyrule? I've never heard of it. This is Termina. And this place is called Clock Town." She told him. Link went silent. He had gone through a dimension entirely different from his. This wasn't his timeline. 

"This might sting a little."

Link jumped, hissing a little in pain when Anju placed a cotton ball on his cut. "Ow!"

"Most years the town would be really buzzing. But now, everyone's a little upset because of the rumors." Anju spoke.

"Rumors?"

"The rumor is that in three days, during the carnival of time the moon will fall."

Link's eyes widen in shock. What!?

"The town can't decide on what to do. Some want to evacuate, and some want the carnival to go on." Anju said and she closed up the first aid box and smiled. "Okay, you're done."

"Aren't you going to run?"

Anju shook her head. "I'm not leaving."

"Because of Kafei?" Link questioned, recalling Anju's mother saying something about him. "Is he your boyfriend?"

"My, my, aren't you a grown up!" Anju replied before her smile dropped a little. "We were supposed to get married, but he's gone missing. We planned to get married at the carnival. But I'm sure he'll come back! I know he will!" Link saw Anju hug her arm, nervously. "But to tell you the truth, I'm a little scared...I'm sorry. You're too young to understand such things."

"Yeah. Don't worry I'm sure he'll come back. There's no way he'd break a promise to a great girl like you!" Link said. Anju blinked in surprise, looking at Link. Then she smiled and picked him up, hugging him.

"That's sweet! I feel better already!" She told him and set Link back down. "Besides, there's still three days left."

Link nodded. "Right!"

Tatl fluttered furiously. "Hey! Why are you taking it easy!? We're supposed to find my brother!"

"We will. Now be quiet." Link shushed the fairy.

"You know the moon's been looking a little creepy. Like someone's face..." Anju spoke. "We say that little demon is calling the moon."

"Little demon?" Both Link and Tatl asked wondering before they realized who Anju was talking about. Link's eyes widen in shock when he saw Skull Kid suddenly appear behind Anju, who didn't notice him.

"Skull Kid!"

"I told you! There's nothing I can't do!" Skull Kid said. Anju turned around, startled, now noticing him behind her. Skull Kid laughed. "I'm bringing down the moon on the very day she's looking forward to! It's going to be quite a carnival! And that's not all, friend stealer, there's a special someone waiting for you." And he quickly left through the window, jumping out of it. Link blinked in confusion. What did he mean by that?

How was Skull Kid going to make the moon fall?

"Special someone? Friend stealer? Link murmured to himself before his eyes widen. Skull Kid must have found Talea! Link and Tatl quickly followed after him. Anju tried to stop Link, but he was already gone.

"Wait! How do you plan to do that!?" Link shouted. Skull kid ignored him and continued to run, darting across the rooftops. Link tried to follow him but it was difficult because of his little legs. He saw Skull Kid float upwards to the top of the Clock Tower in the center of the town. Link quickly chased after him and ran up the stairs. As he reached the top of the tower, Link saw Skull Kid floating in the center with Tael flying behind him, nervously. A little to the left him, Link saw Talea was tied up in ropes.

"You really are stupid to actually come here by yourself." Skull Kid spoke.

"Give me back my ocarina!" Link shouted at him.

"O, Majora's mask, hear my wish!" Skull shouted and then he looked up towards the moon and let out a scream. The moon began to fall down, faster.

"Skull kid! Stop this! Please, this is just another one of your jokes, right!?" Tatl shouted. Skull Kid didn't answer.

"Sis! There's four people! Bring them here! One from the swamp, mountain, sea and valley!" Tael shouted. Skull Kid smacked Tael, swatting the fairy away.

"Keep your mouth shut, you stupid fairy!"

"Hey! That's my brother! Is this how you treat your friends!?" Tatl shouted, furiously. The ocarina fell out from Skull Kid's pocket and he quickly caught it before it fell. He looked down at Link, mockingly tossing the ocarina up and down, catching it.

"Even if you got it, you still couldn't beat me! Think you can stop me? Then do it!" He shouted.

The moon fell faster!

"What are you waiting for!? Stop him!" Tatl shouted.

"How!? I don't have any special powers!?" Link shouted.

"Link! Blow a bubble!" Talea shouted.

Bubble? Link's eyes widen and he quickly turned back to Skull Kid, aiming at the ocarina. A blew a bubble out from his mouth and it knocked the ocarina out from Skull Kid's hands. Link quickly dove and caught it just as it fell. 

The Ocarina of Time! He'll play the song of time! Then suddenly something happened. The ocarina began to transform into a tuba, with several wrapping around Link. Link quickly blew into the instrument and began to play the song of time. The princess had taught him this song. This has to do something! Goddess of Time. Zelda...Give me your strength!

Little by little, time slowly began to reverse back.

Link and Talea both blinked in shock, along with Tatl, as they found themselves back inside the clock tower, hearing the grinding gears. Skull Kid was nowhere to be seen.

"How did we end back here again?" Talea asked, really confused. Then she turned to Link giving him a suspicious look, backing away a little. "Who are you, Link? You're not just an ordinary person, are you?"

Before Link could answer her, the Happy Mask Salesman appeared from the shadows and slowly walked over to them with the same creepy grin on his face.

"Ah, so you've returned!"

[arjaandsimoni]

The Howling House

“Just sort it out Fullmoon! I’m paying you enough!”

The older man shouted across the desk, wearing a three piece suit and sweating uncomfortably in the balmy southern heat.

Alabama wasn’t a major tourist destination, but sometimes the rich and powerful liked it as a vacation home, if only so they could sneer at everyone in the state who wasn’t rich and powerful like they were. Also there was apparently some good golfing.

“Just saying, we would need to know as much as we can about the situation beforehand.” replied Nelen, sitting in a leather armchair across the desk from him. This client was getting on his nerves, but he’d always had issues with guys like him. They reminded him too much about why he had what he did on his hands.

Dawn just sat nearby grinning, the feline shapeshifter in her human form at the moment, wearing her usual baggy jeans, sock hat, and shiny reflective sunglasses to hide her less-than-human nature. Her purple teeshirt sported a grinning depiction of Disney’s take on the Cheshire Cat from the animated version of Alice in Wonderland.

The man sighed, “All I know is that rotten old house is sitting right where I want to build my summer home… but every work crew I send in gets chased off. Machinery gets sabotaged, huge claw marks in engine blocks, and now someone has turned up dead.” he huffed, “I want this sorted out before the police get involved! I don’t want a scandal! Find out what the hell is doing this and get RID of it!” he snapped.

Nelen nodded, “Claw marks… any idea what kind of claw marks?” he asked.

“NO!” he shouted, “THAT’S WHAT I’M PAYING YOU TO FIND OUT! NOW GET TO IT!” he retorted, spit flying from his mouth.

Nelen held up his hands, “Alright alright, Dawn and I will go take a look around the site and see what we can figure out.” he nodded, getting to his feet and nodding for his ‘daughter’ to join him.

She hopped to her feet, then with a smirk said “Later, scotch breath.” and followed Nelen out of the office, the man glaring at her. He had a five-year coin from Alcoholics Anonymous framed on his wall.

He rolled his eyes at her, “Jeez Dawn, he’d better not cut our fee.” he muttered under his breath.

“Oh come on, I had to. So any idea what this one could be?” she asked.

“Probably not a ghost at least, I mean claw marks implies something corporeal, but if they’re in an engine block that could be something dangerous. Those things are cut from solid steel normally, they can take a beating.” he nodded. “Its late though, we’ll hit the hotel tonight and head out first thing tomorrow.”

Later, at their Hotel

The hotel was a nice one for once. Not exactly amazing, but one of the better Holiday Inns in the area. Clearly the client wanted this done. There were two empty pizza boxes on the table next to the TV, along with a half empty two liter of Coke and an empty pint of milk. Nelen stretched out on the bed, flipping through urban legend wikis on his tablet as Dawn watched a re-run of the classic William Shatner Star Trek series, her tail swishing behind her.

“Hm… okay, this might be something.” said Nelen, “Dog Boy. Apparently there was this kid in the 1950s who actually lived at a house in the area, real sick bastard too. He’d catch animals and torture them, locked up his parents apparently too. He died of a drug overdose in prison though.” he said.

Dawn hissed at that, “Oh EW. We got a slasher?! Ugh… I hate those guys! They always come after innocent cats first!” she glared, her tail thrashing about angrily.

“Well, not necessarily Dawn. He said claw marks on an engine block, even a grizzly bear would have a hard time doing that. Whatever is there probably isn’t human, or at least not a mundane.” he nodded, “Of course, this is an Urban Legend wiki. It could be something totally different, or the story could be bullshit."

Dawn shrugged, “Eh, we’ll find out tomorrow I guess.” she nodded.

Nelen nodded too, glancing back over that story. “Hm…” he muttered.

An abandoned house in rural Alabama.

The rental car pulled up outside of the house, the two of them climbing out of it. It was a fairly big house, nothing massive but definitely the kind of house that said ‘someone who had some decent money lived in me once.’ What architecture remained suggested it predated the 1950s at least, possibly made in the 1920s or earlier. The left side was busted in, clearly where the demolition work had begun, but the rest was still standing.

The same couldn’t be said for the construction equipment. A bulldozer’s engine was indeed sporting several deep gashes on it, severing a fuel line and leaving a spark plug missing, and a crane’s arm had been completely ripped off as well. Nelen frowned at those, walking up to the house. “Hm…” he sighed, “Well shit, guess we gotta at least check…” he shrugged, flexing his hands, then walking in along with Dawn.

The inside of the house had seen better days. Grime and dust covered most surfaces, the furniture out of date by several decades, at least what wasn’t wrecked. Dawn hissed, her tail floofing, “GUH! What the fuck is that smell?! I… oh.” she paused as they turned a corner and found, well, most of a deer.

It had been torn open, the inside left to rot, its entrails spilling out onto the floor. “That… narrows the field a bit.” said Nelen, looking down at it. In the gloom it was hard to make out, but he could tell that whatever had pulled it apart had done so with its teeth.

“Nelen… we should probably get going…” she whined, her ears folded back. She had untucked her tail and left her hat and glasses in the car. Nobody was around to see that she wasn’t human anyways.

The mage nodded, “Yeah, I need to check some stuff back at the hotel.” he muttered. He’d brought his messenger bag with him, but he had a feeling that this would require some serious prep work.

As they left, Dawn’s nose twitched again, the feline girl whining softly in the back of her throat…

Back at the Hotel

When they got back to the hotel however they found the concierge waiting outside their room, with the police.

“THERE you are!” he shouted, “Officer! Arrest this vandal!” he snapped.

Nelen took a step back, “Woah woah! Hang on! We just got back, whats this all about?” he asked.

“Whats this all about… your room is completely destroyed! You had better believe I’ll be pressing charges for this Mr. Ferguson!” he shouted, and Nelen immediately glanced at the cop. He’d signed in under a false name. This could be getting messy…

“Hey! If someone trashed the place it wasn’t me. Me and my kid were out driving around today, c’mon whats this all about?” he asked.

“See for yourself!” frowned the concierge, standing back and jerking a thumb towards the room. Nelen walked to the door and winced.

The mattress on the bed had been torn to pieces, the TV taken apart as if by a hammer, and scratched into the wall above the bed were the words ‘Go Away!’

“Okay, look. I know this looks bad, but this wasn’t me. Check the security cameras! You’ll see me and my kid leaving hours ago!” he insisted.

The cop however was far more composed than the hotel worker. “Afraid Mr. Ferguson is right sir. What we could see on the cameras clearly showed he left the premises.” he nodded, “That being said, about two hours ago the camera on this floor wound up in the same state as your room, so we can’t prove whether or not you came back…” he added as the concierge grinned in a smug way.

“Someone is going to pay to have this room rebuilt sir, and the room is in YOUR name.” he nodded.

Nelen glanced between them, then sighed… “Fine fine, I guess if I gotta then I go- DAWN!” he shouted, ducking as the girl scrambled up his back, whipped off her glasses, and there was a sudden bright flash from her eyes.

The cop and the concierge dropped to the floor like puppets with their strings cut, the cop gasping and frantically pawing at his shirt as the concierge whimpered and covered his mouth, his eyes rolling in their sockets.

“Spiders and scorpions, we got a minute tops.” she nodded. “Poof to the car and initiate Plan fifty three?”

“Got it in one Dawn.” he replied.

Plan fifty three: RUN LIKE HELL!

A minute later a rental car was burning rubber out of the parking lot, Nelen speeding off down the road and sighing. “Dammit, I liked that place too.” he frowned. He was glad he’d at least kept their luggage in the car this time.

“Yeaaaaaaah, pity. Ah well, back to the ‘bedbugs, whats that, never heard of ‘em’ hotels for us.” she shrugged.

Nelen sighed and nodded, grateful that his partner could pull that trick off.

Dawn was a mixed breed, half tortoiseshell cat, half Cheshire cat… as in the Cheshire cat of Wonderland, and besides the teleportation and invisibility the grinning feline was known for she also had another trick that hadn’t made it into the works of Lewis Carrol.

They called it her ‘Wonderland Eyes.’ Dawn carried a little piece of Wonderland inside her and by making eye contact she could show it to anyone, inflicting them with hallucinations and insanity temporarily. There’s only so much the human mind can cope with. Still that meant that they would have a cop who after the spiders went away would have had every reason to believe he was fleeing the scene of a crime.

“Well, at least we know something. Whatever did this is able to pass among humanity.” he nodded.

“Oh?” she asked.

“Those claw marks on the walls were the same kind on that engine block. I think whatever lives in that house saw us there today and figured out where we were staying somehow…” he sighed, “Fucking hells I bet I know what it is too.” he nodded.

Then he told her.

Dawn winced, “Yeaaaaah, had a hunch. I mean I smelled something like that back there, but I was hoping it was just the mundane kind.” she frowned.

He sighed, “Well, at least I can say I’m doing the family business this time.” he smirked ruefully, “Either way, we gotta get back to that house, preferably before dark.” he nodded.

Soon, back at the half-ruined house.

From the gloom of the house came a snarling snapping sound, an elderly looking hobo of a man hunched over what was once a wild raccoon. His face and hair were matted with blood, his clothes clearly second hand. “Fuckers better go after that…” he snarled, then paused, sniffing at the air as he heard something nearby.

“Yanno, I really liked that room.” came a voice from the shadows of the ruined house.

The man snarled, baring his teeth. “MY LAIR! GET OUT! MINE!” he barked.

“If they make me pay for it, I’m going to be pissed.” he said, the voice echoing oddly.

The man glared around him, sniffing, but the scent was… gone? He couldn’t smell anything of him, even soap. “Who’re you?” he grunted.

“Sorry that rich asshole wants your house. He must’ve believed the story about you dying of an overdose in prison, but a bit of heroin won’t stop one of you for long will it?” came Nelen’s voice. “Your parents had no idea did they? Must’ve been a recessive gene somewhere. First change came and you had nobody to tell you what was going on or show you how to cope with it.”

The man snarled, his eyes flashing dangerously in the darkness of the wrecked house. “Monster! They called me a monster! Their fucking son! I had to… I had hunt! I had to chase and bite and tear and eat!” he snarled.

“Pity... You’d think one of the local packs would have found you, but I guess they might not have realized what was up until after you got arrested.” came Nelen’s voice again. “Too late now. Wrong guy noticed you. He wants a neat summer home in Arkansas, but I think a rich businessman like that would find the idea of capturing you to sell you off to the Cheiron Group to be way too good a payout to pass up.”

The hobo snarled again, and as he did his body seemed to get bigger.

“Its not your fault, I’m still willing to help you escape. Plenty of wilder areas around here where some of your kind still live out in the open, though a half-feral like you would be a really hard sell…” his voice came again.

The hobo glared, baring fangs from a now long furry muzzle, his clothing tearing free from his body. He barely noticed it, his clawed feet pawing at the floor as he straightened up to a full ten feet in height.

“… but we gotta do something. You did good staying hidden for a long time, but we can’t have a lone werewolf running wild.” came Nelen’s voice.

The werewolf roared in fury, breathing in deeply, his ears twitching and flicking around.

“Don’t bother, I’m using a scent charm and a cantrip to throw my voice. I could be standing right behind you, I could be outside the damn house.” came Nelen’s voice again, “Ever hear of Clan Fullmoon? We specialize in werewolves. We were formed to deal with the old cannibal packs of Ireland. I’m not some jackass with a gun and a hat that says ‘bounty hunter’ old man, I know what I’m doing.”

The werewolf ignored him and lunged, smashing through a half-rotted kitchen table, scattering the wood! His head snapping up as he sniffed around again, trying to find some trace of a smell.

“Yeah, see, this is how I can tell. Any werewolf in a pack knows how to balance man and beast, but you? You’re all beast now. You never learned how. Your soul is so far outta whack you can’t even understand what I’m saying anymore can you?” asked Nelen.

The werewolf lunged again, crashing through a wall!

“Yep, thought so. Well fine then.” he said, and from outside the house came a faint whistling sound. “Here boy! Here puppy! Over here! C’mon boy!”

A moment later the front door and most of the wall around it came down as the werewolf charged through it, seeing a man shaped figure on the ground. “Oooo! Almost! C’mon boy! You can do it! Fetch the stick boy!”

The werewolf roared in fury, rushing towards the prone figure, then tackling it and digging his teeth in.

A moment later there was a crash of thunder and the werewolf went rigid as a bolt of lightning arced down from the sky and slammed into him, sending him flying with a loud yelp!

“Goooood boy. Sit. Stay.” came Nelen’s voice as he walked into view with a stick that had several runes carved onto it, lowering the hand he was using to direct the soundwaves, a strange wooden charm dangling from a string around his wrist.

The werewolf lay unconscious next to the smoldering remains of the scarecrow Nelen had swiped from a local farm, the sack cloth man set ablaze by the lightning bolt. Laying on the ground nearby was a copper coin inscribed with the symbol of Thor’s hammer. Not an Irish trick, but hell, shock collars worked on mundane dogs. For a werewolf you just had to scale up appropriately.

“So now what? We stick a silver knife through his heart?” asked Dawn as she appeared next to him.

Nelen looked down at the stunned lycanthrope, then sighed, “… his own fucking parents called him a monster Dawn, you heard him.”

Dawn rolled her eyes, “You’re not seriously considering…” she frowned.

“Yeah, I made a call while you were in the bathroom at the library. C’mon, get the back door open.” he said, taking out a charm that looked like a crescent moon. “I’ll make sure Fido stays asleep.” he said, tying it around the stunned werewolf’s wrist.

The wilds of Alabama, some time later.

The werewolf’s eyes flew open. It was nighttime now, the moon high in the sky, and he was far from his lair.

He snarled, looking around. This area smelled different, very different, where was he?! Where did that human take him?! Where…

And then a howl went up in the distance, his ears going up.

He could understand that howl… it had no words, but somehow… he just knew.

‘We are like you, we understand, come to us brother.’

The werewolf gazed out across the wilderness. He’d ached to hear such a thing for years and years… more than he could count. He threw his head back and howled in response, then tore off into the woods towards the source of the sound. He was an old wolf, it had taken years, but the one thing that a werewolf couldn’t exist properly without was their pack.

Nelen sat nearby on the hood of the car, then opened his phone and called a specific number, “Yeah. Hey yeah its me. House is all clear now. Your men can get back to work tomorrow. Just wire the money to…” he paused, then pinched the bridge of his nose, “Yeah look, that wasn’t my fault. The mark found out where we were staying and came after me okay? The hotel is insured right?” he asked, then sighed, “Alright alright fine… whatever.” he sighed, then disconnected the call.

Dawn looked over at him, laying on her back as she gazed up at the stars. They were far enough from the cities that they could see them properly. “Hotel wants him to pay for the room?” she asked.

He sighed, “To be fair Dawn, he did make the reservation so it’s his card on file.” he replied.

Dawn rolled her eyes, “Sheesh, so we’re doing this pro-bono?” she asked.

Nelen smirked, “No, because I already know you emptied his wallet before we left the office that day.”

Dawn grinned at him, “Whaaaaaaaat? I thought the rule was client always pays up front, even if they don’t know they are.” she replied.

Nelen smirked, “So, we definitely can’t go back to that town for a while. Swap the rental’s plates, head down to New Orleans, and invest some of that at the fish market?” he asked.

Dawn grinned as only a Cheshire can grin, “Now THAT sounds like a good idea!” she cackled. In the distance, another howl went up, and you didn’t need to be a wolf (or a wolf-like being) to recognize that the one howling was happy.

Next Story

Previous Story

[lovelylogans]

spring cleaning

there’s a pack rat in the family. who it is will not surprise you.

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: food mentions, alcohol mentions, general messiness, jokes about hoarding

pairings: patton/virgil, offscreen logan/roman

word count: 2,412

notes: hi! this is just a quick little fic as i beta and finish off the next chapter of debutante. this is based off the gilmore girls season three episode twelve “lorelai out of water” cold open. takes place the spring after the main storyline, after alliance but before debutante.

⁂

virgil’s phone buzzes at 10:13 am on a sunny spring sunday. he pauses just after he drops off the brunch plates for mrs. torres, babette, and east side tilly, digging around in his back pocket to squint at his recent texts.

logan sanders: Please help.

any other time, this kind of text would probably send anxiety flooding his veins like ice water. as he’s been warned, sure, he’s a little anxious that he’s misreading the situation, but he shakes that aside and snorts.

“called it,” he mutters under his breath, before he wipes his hands on his apron and types out christ, you’re folding easy this year. is that a new record?

a brief pause. then, No, the record was twenty-four minutes. To be fair, that took place when I was ten years old, we were moving into the house, and you were already going to be involved, so I perhaps I should propose that does not count against my spring cleaning record.

ah, that’s right. god, helping patton move had kind of been a nightmare. helping anyone move is a bit of a nightmare, but with patton there’s a whole new layer of shenanigans.

Another buzz. Also, I need this to be hastened along. I have a Socratic seminar in English tomorrow, and though we have settled on a tentative truce I refuse to let Dee achieve the highest grade in the class.

he shoots back i’ll be there asap.

“jean,” he calls to the counter, but jean, having been warned as well, waves him off.

“i got it, at least he waited till the we hit the between-masses lull.”

“you’re the best,” he says, hanging up his apron and ignoring mrs. torres’ hoots about his arms—he's like ninety percent sure she’s spiking her own orange juice so she can have a screwdriver with her pancakes but he hasn’t caught her with a flask in hand yet—and heads out the door.

the citizens of sideshire are fully soaking in the pleasure of a sunny spring day—it’s one of those days, where the weather’s warming up slowly, but there’s sure to be more cold snaps before they fully settle into spring, so lots of people are taking advantage of it. families are sprawled with picnic blankets in the grassy town square. the “long-haired freak” (taylor’s nickname, not his. virgil’s pretty sure his name is dave, but also, he’s not totally sure his name is dave, and as such usually avoids any complications by saying “hey, man,” whenever virgil sees him) is out hawking fruits and vegetables from his garden. lots of people are out on walks, some with earbuds or headphones on, some calling out jolly greetings to other people taking advantage of a blue sky and temperatures that are soaring above freezing.

“hey, virgil.”

“hey, felix,” virgil says, craning his neck to catch sight of—well, he guesses felix and riley are technically his tenants? but that always feels weird to say—his neighboring business owners. felix is busy making sure a promotional poster’s taped to the window. “how’re things?”

“ah, y’know, y’know,” felix says, waving their hands around. “weather’s warming up, so we’re getting into busy season. guess people want to be able to flaunt new ink in the warmer weather, y’know?”

“hey, speaking of—” virgil says.

“oh, yeah,” felix says, scratching at the half of their head that was once shaved bald but is now growing in stubbly. “you wanna have riley do one this time? they can draw up some sketches for you, if you want. or i can, if you want, but it might be a minute ‘cause i’m all hands on deck for this massive full-back piece.”

“nah, riley’ll be cool, it’s been a minute since they’ve done one for me,” virgil says. “i’ll drop by later with some reference photos, ideas and stuff.”

“i’ll make sure they’re refreshed on what your style is before the consultation,” felix says. “appreciate the business.”

“appreciate you and your spouse taking over this empty shop so taylor didn’t get a chance to,” virgil returns, as he usually does whenever felix or their riley thanks him for something. he’s really awkward about accepting gratitude, he’s working on that with emile and patton.

“god, could you imagine taylor next door,” felix says with a theatric shudder. “bad enough he runs half the town.”

“i’ll call tomorrow to make the appointment?”

felix flashes him a thumbs up, and virgil raises a hand in farewell as he continues on his way.

he ends up pushing his sleeves up to his elbows as he walks to the sanders’ house, occasionally saying hey to other residents of sideshire, or tilting his face up to the sun. 

this winter’s been brutal, even worse than it usually is for the northeast, with absurd amounts of blizzards and ice. on the days where it wasn’t shoveling ridiculous amounts of snow on the whole town, the sky had been gray and overcast, and what little sun there was could barely stream weakly through the clouds. 

but now, the sun sinks softly into his exposed skin, warming him without overheating him thanks to the breeze, carrying the sweet scent of tentatively blooming flowers planted by particularly audacious gardeners.

it is a perfect, lovely spring day. 

by the time he gets to the cheerful yellow clapboard house, he’s taken enough deep, calming breaths to ensure that he is a calming presence. he ascends the stairs of the wraparound porch—oh, huh, looks like patton or logan’s making an attempt at being a gardener, that looks like mountain mint—and knocks lightly on the front door.

“please come in,” logan shouts, sounding exasperated, and virgil obligingly pushes the door open.

he toes off his shoes, even as he overhears patton’s voice, cajoling.

“hug-a-world! c’mon, you’ve gotta remember your hug-a-world!”

hug-a-world, virgil mouths to himself, before it comes back to him in sudden, vivid technicolor and he rounds the corner.

and, sure enough, surrounded by the detritus of the sanders home, patton and logan sit in a hastily-cleared space in the middle of their living room, patton holding a stuffed ball tight to his chest.

“of course i remember the hug-a-world,” logan says, still with that tone of exasperation, but lessened now at the sight of a beloved childhood toy. 

“you can’t make me throw away your hug-a-world,” patton declares viciously, which would almost be believably threatening if he were not clutching a stuffed ball made to look like a globe to his chest, and if his curly hair was not sticking up in a configuration that virgil thinks of as chaotically unruly, and if he were not wearing a pink-and-blue sweater he usually busts out around easter, and if someone did not know patton as a person. “you learned all seven of your continents on hug-a-world!”

see, without fail, almost every year patton gets suckered into the whole concept of the spring clean. and, without fail, logan or virgil will try to point out that he does this every year, and patton insists no, really, this time for sure he’ll get rid of some of the clutter around this house, it’s about time!, and then he gets sidetracked getting attached to objects he finds that he suddenly cannot bear to get rid of, despite the fact that said objects have typically been buried away in a dark closet all the rest of the year.

which means that logan and virgil sit with him and try to point that out, and patton wavers, before he decides to keep or donate or trash it, and it seems like it’s going okay, until the next thing he touches turns out to be another thing that he suddenly cannot bear to give up.

it’s gotten a little better since that time they introduced the marie kondo method, but also, that much worse, because of course he insists that everything sparks joy! 

but this is way more mess than usual. there are cardboard boxes and piles of clothes and bits and bobs that are in piles that come up to his ribs. virgil squints it at it suspiciously.

“attic,” logan says wearily, in explanation. “he got boxes out of the attic.”

oh, shit, the attic. god, that thing is stuffed to the brim with boxes, no wonder the living room looks like someone upended the odds-and-ends drawer for a giant into the house.

“but—c’mon,” patton says, in that same sweetly coaxing tone that usually makes them all throw up their hands and leave the rest of this spring cleaning mess for next year’s spring clean. he holds out the hug-a-world to logan. “hold it. marie says so.”

“marie does not realize that she has a special case with my hoarder of a father and therefore should customize the approach of sparks joy, because you have too wide a definition,” logan says, but he reaches out and takes the hug-a-world with both hands anyways.

virgil examines logan holding it, thinking suddenly of a much tinier logan with a gap in his front teeth holding the same toy in the same way, though the fabric had been much more vibrant shades of blue and green then. there had been a solid stretch of time that the hug-a-world had been the toy that logan had hugged falling asleep, back in the poolhouse. he’d taken the hug-a-world to the diner and to school and all around the inn and to the princes’ apartment and back again.

a side of logan’s mouth twitches up, and then, as if suddenly conscious of it, he forces the corners of his mouth to turn down as he stares at it.

“remember?” patton repeats, staring at logan and the hug-a-world fondly. “we used to take turns to squeeze it as tight as we could and then wherever our pinkies would end up, that’s where we were going to go together when you grew up.”

“yes,” logan says, and then loses the fight against his mouth, because it twitches up into a smile again. “many a trip to uzbekistan was planned that way.”

“look!” patton says, pointing and tilting his head. “that’s canada, then, where’d your other one get you?”

logan moves his other pinky in order to squint at the faded fabric. “i believe that’s cambodia. possibly vietnam, i was rather splitting the border.” 

“why not both?” patton says pragmatically, or as pragmatically as he can sound planning a potential trip based off hugging a ball. 

logan hesitates, holding the ball.

“look,” patton says. “hey, how about virgil helps clean it up, and the hug-a-world can live in your room?”

logan chews at the inside of his lip.

“if it sparks joy,” patton sing-songs.

logan heaves a sigh.

“the hug-a-world will live in my room, then,” he says, before looking to virgil. “we’ve started a pile for you right here,” and pats a pile of what mostly looks like clothes that can be either repaired, repurposed, or sneakily donated.

virgil takes a breath, and says, “i’ll crack open a window and put on some music, then. patton, you take your allergy medicine today?”

patton tilts his head to think about it.

“that’s a no,” virgil says. “i’ll grab it on the way. water, snacks? we’re gonna be here for a while.”

“are we?” logan says doubtfully, twisting to look at him.

“we are finishing spring clean this year!” patton insists. “i mean it this time!”

logan arches his eyebrows at virgil, and virgil mouths play along, and logan sighs before he turns back to the pile, pulling out an old jacket at random.

“i have never seen you wear this. it should be donated.”

“that was from raf, we can’t just toss it!” patton cries out in dismay, and virgil heads for the kitchen.

he fills up three glasses of water, chops up some celery and apples, fills up three mini ramekins with peanut butter, and sets it all on a tray, along with the round white pill that patton takes for his allergies. 

he plugs in his phone and scrolls to a roman-made playlist, lowering the volume so that they’ll be able to hear each other, and proceeds to make his meandering way around the piles of Stuff as best he can without knocking anything over.

on his way, he moves to crack open the windows of the living room, allowing the floral-scented air to waft into the messy room, to hear the chirping of the birds under patton and logan’s debating.

he pushes aside a pile of old books on the coffee table and sets the tray down, mostly ignored as logan manages to triumph and tosses the jacket into a box labeled DONATE.

virgil settles down next to his pile, sitting in criss-cross-applesauce, and gosh all of the clutter of patton and logan’s lives looms over them like a mountain at this angle. 

“okay,” virgil says encouragingly. “good, that’s good! raf’s old jacket will probably make some other teenager very happy to have it.”

patton sighs, staring after the jacket. “yeah, i guess.”

“this is good,” virgil says stubbornly, before tugging at a piece of fabric sticking out at random and unearthing a blanket.

“oh, i was wondering where that got off to!” patton says, delighted. 

“i thought that got lost in the moving shuffle,” virgil agrees, because the last time he saw this he was pretty sure it was tossed over the back of their rented apartment couch.

“so this blanket has not been washed in at least six years,” logan says.

“well, that can be fixed!” patton points out. “i say keep.”

“we’re never going to finish,” logan groans.

“of course we’re gonna finish!” patton says.

“yeah, logan,” virgil says unconvincingly. “listen to your dad.” 

patton beams at him, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek; logan rolls his eyes, before he turns his attention to the blanket.

“so, you claim keep for your room,” logan says. “you already have so many blankets.”

“well, we can always use more blankets!” patton points out. “worse comes to worse, we’ll put it in the linen closet.”

logan tilts his head, before he sighs, and places it in a pile of other fabrics that they seem to have decided to keep.

“all right, fine,” he says, then fishes out another piece of fabric. “next item—”

“look how fast we settled that!” patton says brightly.

“pretty fast,” virgil agrees dutifully.

“we’ll totally finish spring clean this year,” patton says confidently.

(they do not finish spring clean this year.)

[tact-and-impulse]

Shinkane Week 2021 Day 1

For this prompt of ‘roommates’, it’s a sequel to Propriety! Let’s see where Miss Tsunemori and her faithful former chauffeur have ended up, now that they’re on the run…

Runaways

“I’m so sorry, but we only have one room available.”

He clenched his jaw. Gino would have his hide if he found out, but it seemed there was no other choice. “We’ll take it.”

Beside him, Miss Tsunemori was feigning interest in the worn floorboards. The innkeeper handed over the key and directed them to the room. It was terribly cramped, with only one futon. Extra blankets would be brought for the other to make do.

As soon as the innkeeper left, he insisted. “You can take the bed. I’m used to sleeping on the floor.”

“But you must be tired too. You drove the entire time.”

He did, because it was the middle of the night and she didn’t know the roads. He wasn’t even entirely confident they were safe yet. He had driven until the fuel ran out, and then decided to ditch their vehicle on the side of the road. It had been a harrowing twenty-four hours, and her entire life had been pulled out from underneath her. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, I’m the servant.”

“Not anymore.”

That was true and he abruptly turned away. “Get some sleep. We’ll think better if we sleep.”

His blankets were then delivered, and afterwards, neither of them spoke. As he attempted to find a comfortable position, he couldn’t help hearing her light breathing and knew she was just as restless.

***

“I’d like to see the ocean.” She had said, when he asked for a destination.

So, here they were, in a harbor town. They had watched the sun rise over the glittering water, and Miss Tsunemori had darted to the shoreline. He followed her prints, hiding them under his, and joined her at the breaking surf. She was standing just shy of the approaching foam.

“See any monsters?”

“Kougami-san!” She admonished but laughed. She could laugh when they were alone, without worry that someone would overhear and realize that it wasn’t two young men staying in the last room. “No, I haven’t.” She bent down, untying her shoes and removing her socks. After placing them on higher ground, she dipped her toes in. Just as she did, she made a startled sound and retreated. 

He took her arm, steadying her. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I didn’t expect it would still be cold.” She pressed her feet into the darkened sand. “I suppose that makes sense, it’s early.”

Letting go, he copied her, tossing his boots closer to her belongings. He stepped into a wave, the ocean surging around his ankles. “It’s actually not bad. Once you’re in it, you’ll warm up.”

She splashed towards him. “If you say so…”

For a few minutes, they didn’t move. He crossed his arms, breathing deeply of the salty air. “So…where to?”

“I’m not sure.” A frown had settled upon her face. The reality was kicking in, that there was no plan other than running as fast and far as they could.

“We need to decide. Every minute we stall, we risk getting caught.”

“You’d be arrested for kidnapping me.” She had already reached that conclusion, and despite that bleak possibility, he felt a twinge of pride. “And I don’t want that to happen.”

“Maybe, you’d see me again when I’d leave jail in twelve years.”

“Please don’t joke about something like that.”

He glanced at her forlorn expression, her downturned lips. “Sorry.”

A breeze swept through, and she held on to her hat. “If I can keep up this disguise, I wonder if I can study law.” She mused.

“Maybe.” He conceded. His skin itching with the need to move, he walked away from the ocean and grabbed his boots. She followed suit, and they slowly crossed the beach.

“Kougami-san?”

“Yes?”

“How do we get rid of the sand?”

***

Her question also brought up the issue of hygiene, so they concocted an excuse that “Akio” had a skin condition and couldn’t go to the public bathhouses, unlike “Satoru”. The story bought them a large basin of water and coarse soap. Miss Tsunemori was eager to use them, and to secure her privacy in this small room, he made a suggestion in case the innkeeper knocked.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead. Don’t worry, I won’t peek.” He held up the sheet, turning his head to the side. “Let me know when you’re done.”

“Alright, thank you.” There was rustling, as she removed her clothes. He tried to ignore the soft sounds and the liquid sloshing as she dipped below the surface.

He clenched the cotton, searching for a topic of conversation. “We can keep to the coastline, and there’s the option of leaving Japan.”

“I’m not sure if I want to, or even if you do.”

“Why not? There’s jungle out there, hidden temples.”

“Hmm. But you wanted to go to the mountains.” So, she remembered.

“Yeah. I had a teacher once, who said he wanted to live in the shadow of Mount Fuji. To us kids who only knew the rowhouses, his idea of a peaceful life was something we couldn’t really imagine.”

He could hear her smile in her reply. “But you liked it.”

That phrase, accompanied with the fact that she was naked in a tub just below him, caused him to waver. He renewed his grip on the sheet, his reply harsher than intended. “Well, runaways never have peace. Do you want to go home?”

Long moments passed, before she quietly replied. “I think we’re past that point.”

It wasn’t a denial. Before he could say as much, she announced that she was finished. He lifted the cover higher, while she dressed. It didn’t take long before she popped up on the other side, her face flushed.

“Thank you so much.” Her smaller fingers reached up, pulling the cloth barrier down. This close, he could smell the soap, and underneath, the lingering traces of sweet citrus that hadn’t been entirely removed. “Your arms must be sore. Do you want me to rub them?”

They did ache, but her offer was far too tempting for his fraying self-control. “That won’t be necessary. I’m going to the public baths. Keep the pistol, you know how to use it.” He was about to take the basin with him, but she protested.

“I can empty it, don’t worry.”

“…Thanks.” He couldn’t resist ruffling her short damp hair. His hand tingling, he hurried out of the building and down the road.

He was one of the few patrons at the time, and he was grateful. As he quickly scrubbed off the grime, he had an intrusive thought that she would be gone when he returned to the inn. It wouldn’t be surprising; being a runaway wasn’t nearly so glamorous, now that the initial adrenaline had faded.

However, when he knocked on the door, her lowered voice answered. Upon his entry, she sat up in her futon, clearly relieved. “Welcome back.”

And he smiled. “I’m back.”

***

They kept moving, never staying in a town longer than a few days. Kougami maintained a close eye on their surroundings, but he didn’t spot anyone tailing them. If Tougane was still persistent, he might have lost their trail. They traveled inland, running errands for money; he usually did manual labor, while she was a good scribe.

In one of the larger markets, there was a stall selling books. Her interest couldn’t be concealed, and he encouraged her to peruse, while he bought the remainder of their supplies. She had found one in particular and her gaze was bright as she skimmed through the book.

“Is it about law?” He asked over her shoulder.

“History, actually. But it’s well-written.”

He approached the vendor. “How much?” They spent a minute bargaining, but he was going to pay regardless.

As they headed to their lodgings, she humbly said. “Kougami-san, you didn’t have to.”

“Hey, it’s a gift. That’s what roommates do.” He smacked the spot between her shoulder blades, and she startled. For a moment, he wondered if that was too forward, but she didn’t mention it.

“Well, then I need to return the favor. Let me know if you really want anything.”

There was, but it wasn’t the time, place, or situation to ask for it. He didn’t speak again, trying not to think of a sweltering night that seemed like years ago.

In the evenings, he pored over their maps, marking the places they had left. It was still warm, and he left the window open. The sound of cicadas also distracted him from the fact that he was really itching for a smoke.

Then, there was a slight tap against his upper arm. Miss Tsunemori had set her book aside, holding out an open box of rolled papers, pungent and familiar.

“Here. I bought you a new pack, since you ran out.”

“You noticed.” It was the same brand he liked too. Touched, he accepted the cigarettes. He picked one, lighting it. Noticing that she was watching, he asked. “Want to try one?”

“No, thank you. I’ve gotten used to the smell though. Now, it reminds me of you.”

“Does it?” He regarded her, the smoke weaving around them. She blushed but didn’t look away.

At that moment, a cicada flew into the room. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop from screaming, and he bit off a curse as he extinguished the cigarette in the ash tray, before grabbing his boot to kill the invader. A few good hits, and he tossed the body out before she closed the window. Damn bugs.

Shocked laughter bubbled from her lips. “That was…scary.”

“I wasn’t expecting that.” But he began to laugh too. It was the first time, since they’d driven away from Tokyo.

After recovering, it was quiet again. Even the cicadas must have tired out. For a second, they stared at each other.

“Well…it’s late.” She slowly said, wrapping up in her blankets. “Good night.”

In every room, they’d been sleeping on opposite ends, but this one was the smallest so far. If he could, he could roll over and close that distance. But he only answered. “Night.”

***

The final summer days gave way to autumn, and the mountains were abundant with color. Unfortunately, the scenery was the only enjoyable thing. Influenza was spreading, from beyond the borders. The numbers of infected and dead were rising fast. It was recommended to cover their faces with muslin layers, and the masks also served in laying low. However, it wasn’t enough, because he fell asleep one night with a dry throat and woke to feeling cold under his blankets.

She took over, ignoring his attempts to convince her that he should be left behind. She kept their brazier lit, measured his medicine, and even wiped him above the waist. He felt terrible and weak, but he had to rely on her. From morning to night, she looked after him, her brows drawn together in perpetual concern. He wasn’t getting better, not as quickly as he thought, and he knew it.

One morning, she wasn’t there when he opened his eyes, and he made an effort to sit up. The room spinning, he swayed, and his hand landed on the note she had left. She was buying more tea for him, but she would be back soon. And just like that, he was reassured. He didn’t stir again until he sensed her presence.

“I’m back. I’ve brought someone who said he could help. Can you hear me, Kougami-san?” She squeezed his fingers.

“Mm.” He grasped back, comforted by her touch.

“Kougami? Is that you?” The voice was familiar, and he thought he was dreaming as he looked up into the surprised, bespectacled eyes of the man who held weekly lessons for the rowhouse children.

“Saiga-sensei…please help.” Then, he spiraled into delirium.

***

“Young lady, what is he to you?”

“He’s-”

***

Just as he was beginning to crest over the worst, her temperature spiked. He blamed himself. Staying in one room together this whole time, breathing the same air. She deteriorated fast, struggling with each inhale. Her skin was burning, despite the growing chilliness.

He didn’t leave her bedside, giving her water and broth and the little medicine he was able to buy. Saiga said he had seen other young women survive this, but his expression was serious. Kougami was afraid. Afraid that she was going to die, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

In her fever dreams, she called for her parents. Her grandmother. Her friends. And for him. “Kougami-san! Don’t go!” For whatever reason he was, it brought her to tears, because they spilled down her face, onto her sweat-soaked pillow.

“I’m here.” He hushed her, pressing his hand to her forehead. “I’m here, Akane. I won’t leave you.”

He wouldn’t, because she believed in him. In the silent spaces between her coughing, her words haunted him.

He’s the person I trust most with my life.

***

“So, you ran away together?” Saiga summarized, as the two of them sat on the back steps of his house. “I admit, I’m not sure what to make of your decision. You must have had your difficulties.”

“It wasn’t easy, but it had its kinder moments.” Footprints in the sand, pages in the candlelight. A sheet between them.

His old teacher smiled. “That’s how life is. It was lucky that I was passing through. I was sick earlier this year, so I’ve been helping out. Kougami, don’t underestimate this flu.”

“It’s going to get worse, isn’t it? Winter isn’t even here yet.”

“You assume correctly. But at the very least, you’re both alive. I’m glad.” Miss Tsunemori’s fever had finally broken, though she was still weak. Kougami was better, but not by much. He still couldn’t bring himself to light a cigarette yet.

“Me too.”

“Whatever you decide next will be crucial. Snowy roads are harder to traverse, and with the infection rates, I’d be surprised if any small town will welcome outsiders. As long as you hold on to logic and clarity, you’ll find a solution.”

“I won’t forget. Thank you.”

With that, his teacher excused himself to obtain groceries, and Kougami went inside. She was reading the newspaper, looking lost.

“Miss Tsunemori?”

“Oh, Kougami-san. Um, sorry.” She hastily wiped at her eyes. “All the news of cases and deaths made me think of Obaa-chan. If we were this ill, then what about her? Masaoka-san too, and everyone else.”

“I know. Even Gino is only human. But if we go back…”

“We’re immune though. We can offer to nurse the sick, in exchange for clemency. We can negotiate.”

“And Tougane?”

“I can always use the pandemic as an excuse for delaying a wedding.”

“I don’t like the idea of you marrying him.” Saying that aloud felt like drawing to the edge of a precipice, that he knew he couldn’t turn back from.

‘I don’t either. But I’ll find another way.” Of course, she would say that. And he had faith in her.

He smiled bitterly. “Alright. Let’s return to Tokyo.”

[flowercrown-bard]

A new us will begin (13/ ?)

word count: 4613

AO3

part 1   / part 2 / part 3  / part 4  / part 5 / part 6  / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

content warnings: blood, injury, assault (not sexual)

The light of the midday sun bore down on Lark, as he strolled through the streets of Gors Velen and gave his hair an almost golden shimmer.

Golden, like the handful of coins that sat heavy in his purse. If anyone had told him a couple of years ago that he would one day have more to his name than a few silver coins at the most, he'd have laughed bitterly and shuffled off, dreaming of all he would have been able to eat if he'd owned that kind of money.

Now that he did, his stomach did a little flip whenever he looked at prices for things he didn't want to buy, but would be able to afford if he did. It still seems unreal to him, even after having lived like this for some years now.

He hummed a little tune, fiddling with the hem of the doublet that Desanka had gifted to him a month back. The blue colour was a little washed out and the sleeves were too big – perfect to hide things in, as Desanka had called it with a wink – but he wouldn’t have changed it for the world. Though it came nowhere close to being as extravagant as a real bard’s attire would be, it gave Lark the ability to walk among people without receiving strange looks for his ragged and dirtied clothes and sometimes, when he was brave enough to do so, he could even pretend to be a bard while wearing this and people would be more willing to believe the illusion. But more importantly than that: Desanka had gone into a town to get the garment for Lark. Despite the years they’ve been living together now, she still refused to tell him why she only rarely visited towns with him and it meant the world to Lark that she would do this just to give him something that made him happy.

The memory of that day and the confidence the doublet gave him, brought a smile to his lips that were humming a little tune. The melody was catchy, one of the ones you only had to hear once to have it stuck in your ear indefinitely, though he couldn't for the life of him remember where he had heard the tune or what words accompanied it. Something about coins? Or maybe he just imagined that because that was the thing he had been thinking about before.

It didn't matter.

With the tune on his lips and a skip in his step, he made his way past the Thief’s Bastion, grinning a little as he passed it, and towards the tavern where the promise of coin awaited him.

As always, when he reached a tavern or inn, Lark took a quick detour to the stables. There wasn't much sense to it, but he loved seeing the horses and maybe getting to pet them a little or sneaking them the treats he had once stolen from a particularly stingy and unfriendly vendor on a whim, only to realise a second too late that he didn't have a horse to give these treats to.

Besides, when he went to the stables, there was always the slim chance that someone had left their belongings with their horse while bargaining for a room at an inn or buying a drink for the road.

Lark kept humming as he passed the boxed, every once in a while stopping to stroke down the face of a friendly looking horse. One of them blew a warm breath at his face and nudged his shoulder. A soft grin spread across Lark's face and he petted the soft nose.

"You're a pretty one, aren't you?" he cooed at the brown horse. His eyes drifted over the animal and his grin became devious. "My my, and you're carrying some heavy bags." he kicked his tongue in mock disapproval, while he threw a quick glance at the stable doors and slipped into the horse's box when he was sure the owner wasn't coming back. "It's truly unfair of your owner to let you carry such heavy things like - damn, a sword?"

His brows rose up and he pulled the sword halfway out of the scabbard, only to reveal gleaming silver. He sucked in a sharp breath and put the weapon back as if he had burned himself. His heart was racing and he risked another glance at the door. If the owner was able to afford a blade made out of pure silver, they must be rich and influential. The best person to steal from - and the worst to get caught by.

Lark's throat grew tight as he fumbled with the clasps of the saddle bags. A triumphant sound escaped him, when he reached inside and almost immediately found a handful of small bottles. He pulled one out and held it against the dim light falling in through a dirty window. He squinted and gave the bottle a little shake, making the sluggish golden substance inside slosh around. Whatever this was, the unusual colour alone must make it extremely valuable. Never before had Lark seen a liquid of such a strange colour.

He leaned closer to uncork the bottle and take a sniff at its contents, but found his limps not obeying him. Something uncomfortable squirmed in his guts, an almost nauseating feeling of danger, warning him not to touch these bottles and commanding him to put them back. He ignored the strangely growly voice in his mind. He was a self-respecting thief, after all, and as such, he would not let a bad gut feeling derail him.

Shaking his head to get rid of the unsettling feeling, he dug around in the bag again and pulled out another bottle, stuffing it into his pockets, without trying to find out what it was he was bagging. Though it would be nice to know just what exactly he was taking with him so he could discern what it was worth, there was no doubt he wouldn't be able to make up what it was and get a decent prize for it when he sold it even so.

Spurred on by his find, Lark moved on to the next saddlebag, digging around in it carefully, trying not to disturb the order of the things in it too much.

A frown furrowed his brows as he pulled out a simple shirt that looked even worse than the ones he was used to wearing. There were holes in it and a strange stain covered its lower half. Confused, Lark brought it closer to his face and squinted at it. The dim light in the stable wasn't bright enough for him to be sure but it almost looked like... like blood.

Immediately, Lark shoved the shirt back into the bag and stumbled backwards till he hit the wall of the box. The horse snorted and nudged him again with its nose.

Lark paid it no attention. His heart was pounding painfully fast against his ribs. The fuck kind of person carried a silver sword and bloodied clothes around?

A distant sound snapped him out of his shock. A door being thrown open so harshly that it connected with the wall with a bang and the sound of quick, angry steps and mutterings came closer.

Lark couldn't see yet whom this deep and frustrated voice belonged to, but he didn't care to stick around and find out.

His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest, as he pushed the door to the box open with trembling fingers, just enough to slip through and dash into the empty box opposite of the one with the horse carrying the silver sword. He cowered down and pressed his back against the wall, praying that the man, whose steps came closer still, wouldn't notice him.

Lark screwed his eyes shut tightly, as he heard the door to the box he had just been in open again. The two bottles he had stolen from him felt like they were burning in his pockets.

The man was going to know. He was going to realise that Lark had stolen from him and he had a sword and a bloodstains on his shirt. Lark didn't want to find out what such a person would do to him if he realised Lark had taken something of his. He shouldn't have come here. He should have just gone inside the tavern, where he had known he would get enough coin to last him and Desanka a while.

Oh gods, Desanka! She was waiting for him to come back. She probably wouldn't even realise that something was wrong until nightfall. And even then, there was no telling what she would think. As protective as she was of Lark and how much they loved each other, she still got that hint of trepidation and fear in her eyes every time he left for town or said something wrong, though he never could figure out what exactly he had said to set her off, as if she was still worried that he would leave her. He couldn't leave her!

Lark didn't dare to even do as much as look at the dangerous stranger, for fear of him somehow feeling Lark's eyes on his back and turning to find him.

"Come on, then," the stranger said to his horse with surprising softness,considering he had just cursed up a storm under his breath. "Can't catch a break. Gotta find the beast and then we can get our well-deserved break. If these shitheads don't short us again."

The clacking of hooves indicated that the man was releasing his horse from the box and leading her outside.

Lark held his breath, until the sounds had faded and he could be sure that the man was well and truly gone. Only then did he release a shuddering breath and got back up on trembling legs, still leaning against the wall until his heartbeat had calmed enough to let him breathe evenly and give him control over his fingers again. A thief with trembling fingers was a thief waiting to get caught and thrown in a prison. The though alone of sitting in a dark cell with rats and no food, was enough to make his skin crawl.

Taking one more deep breath, he straightened out his doublet and put on a smile that spoke of confidence he didn’t feel, before making his way out of the stables and into the adjoining tavern.

The Silver Heron was full of patrons, just as Lark had suspected, but instead of raucous laughter and shouts for more ale, a strange tension hung in the air. Not that Lark could blame them. If the man with the silver sword had just been in here, he wouldn’t have been having a good time either. But be that as it may, Lark needed those folks in here to be less tense and on guard. No one who was already suspicious of people around them, made an easy target for sticky fingers.

Lark let his eyes roam across the room; over the large windows letting in the midday sun, the decorative heron figures standing over a mantelpiece and the paintings adorning the walls. This was no shady tavern, no seedy place for never-do-wells and slackers to come. People who visited this sort of establishment for lunch, had coin enough to spare some for Lark, surely. If only they stopped shooting glares at the door and murmuring amongst themselves.

Well, good thing Lark knew exactly how to get people to ease up a little. He ran a hand over his doublet and through his hair and strode to the middle of the room, where he’d be able to see most of the people sitting at the tables.

For a moment, he just stood there silently, wearing a mask of calm confidence. The table with three burly men in fine clothing that didn’t quite fit the style of their unkempt beards, was the last to go quiet. Confused but curious, the patrons stared at Lark, waiting to find out what he was standing in the middle of the room for.

Lark preened under the attention, though a small part of him still wanted to flee from crowds. He threw a dazzling smile at the people and began to sing.

It was a song he had heard a bard sing a couple of weeks ago, when Lark had used the distraction created by the lutist to let his hands wander into other people’s pockets. And yet, even as he had made sure Desanka and him wouldn’t have to worry about coin for a couple of days, he had been mesmerized by the bard himself, so much so, that after only a couple of minutes, he had given up on his work and had sat down to listen to the musician, leaning forward with wide eyes and his lips moving with the lyrics of the song.

He had come back to Desanka that day, with less coin than he had promised, but with a new song to sing to her. She had clapped along and danced a little with him, but at the end of the day, laughter and music wouldn’t feed them.

Not until now. Lark new he was no bard. His doublet, though colourful was not as rich in embroidery and frills as an actual bard’s would be. He had no instrument to create sweet harmonies to his voice and his songs, like all of his belongings, were stolen from people better than him.

And yet, as his voice soared up or fell into a near-whisper, he saw a blond woman lean closer, a man with important looking papers spread out in front of him, ignore his work in order to listen to him and even the barkeep, who had been scowling at everything that moved, uncrossed his arms and tabbed the rhythm of Lark’s song onto the counter.

Lark took that as a cue to start moving. It was risky to try and steal from people while he was the one they paid attention to, but the attention made Lark dizzy and bolder than he probably should be.

Every note he sang chased away a bit of the fear that had flared up at him in the stables.

He moved with a graze he hadn’t known he possessed, as if this was something he had done a hundred times before. Lark winked at the blonde woman, bringing her bejewelled hand to his lips and slipping one of her rings off her finger unnoticed, while she was sighing and looking deeply into his eyes.

A spark of pride and excitement shot through him, when he slipped the ring into his pockets, unseen by anyone, though all eyes were on him.

He draped his arm around a young man’s shoulders, who blushed furiously, as Lark leaned closer, as if singing only to him, though the entire tavern was watching. His other hand dipped lower, sneaking into the man’s pockets and swiping a couple of coins.

With a roguish smirk that made the man’s blush deepen even more, Lark pulled away again, striding over to his next involuntary benefactor.

Strangely enough, though, before he could slip his hand into the tall moustached man’s pocket, the man did it himself, producing a noble and tossing it to Lark, who caught the coin, his eyes wide in surprise. The man inclined his head to him and continued swaying a little to the rhythm of Lark’s tune.

To Lark’s surprise and joy, the single coin he earned legally didn’t stay alone. Soon enough, other members of his audience tossed coins to him, giving him approving smiles or lifting their tankards to him in a toast.

Lark could have gotten drunk on the praise and a small part of him was filled with righteous smugness. He would bet anything he owned, that those people who were now so easily charmed by a young adult with a bright smile were the same ones who wouldn’t have wasted a single copper on the starving child he had been. It felt unbelievably good to rid them of their coin, whether they gave it to him willingly or not. Perhaps he even enjoyed it more when they paid him, if only so he could laugh silently about the knowledge that he had tricked them into liking someone they would have scoffed at, if he weren’t wearing a doublet and wasn’t prancing around, as if he belonged in their midst.

He finished his performance with a high note that got drowned out in applause and swept his arms to the sides as he bowed deeply. After he collected all of the coins littering the floor, he turned towards the bar, where the barkeep was already waiting for him with an ale.

“On the house,” he said gruffly, but with a warm smile beneath his bushy beard that lark returned brightly, as he snatched up the pint and took a swig, hiding his grimace behind the tankard. It wasn’t often that he got to drink ale and he still wasn’t used to the taste. One time, he had bought a bottle of the stuff for Desanka, just to see if she shared his sentiment about the drink. Her disgusted face when she had taken a too large swig had made Lark burst out into laughter, which then in turn had made her dump some of the ale onto his head, making both of them laugh even more. If she were here, she would look so smug when Lark hard to force down the gulp to not offend the barkeep.

“Thank you,” Lark said, when the bitter taste had disappeared somewhat from his tongue. “If you were so kind, I’d like to buy two hearty meals for the road, if that’s possible.”

He pushed three nobles across the counter and the barkeep took them and turned around to grab some bowls with lids, so that Lark would be able to carry them back to the camp in the nearby woods where Desanka was waiting for him. He couldn’t wait to tell her about his performance.

That is, he still had to wait a little longer, because there was no way, he would be able to finish his ale anytime soon. Small sips was all he could get down, so he’d probably be stuck here for a little while longer.

When the barkeep handed him the bows and a cheap bag to carry them in, Lark balanced them in one hand and grabbed the pint with the other to search for a table to sit down at. His mouth twisted in displeasure, when he realised that the only free table was right next to the one with the three men who had been staring daggers at the door earlier and who were now back to heatedly talking amongst each other, the anger and disdain pouring off of them almost palpable.

Lark didn’t intend to listen in, but as he sipped his ale and counted his coin, it was inevitable that he heard what they were discussing so animatedly.

“- greedy bastard asked for more money than his own life is worth,” the man with the longest beard hissed. “You heard how he refused to kill the beast for less than 150 nobles?”

One of the other men, the tallest of them with short cropped dark hair and a deep furrow between his brows, grunted in response and took a swig of his tankard.

“As if he really needed that coin! That silver sword of his would already fetch a nice price. Not to mention the medallion.” He gave his friends a smile that sent an unpleasant shiver down Lark’s spine and made him avert his eyes quickly. “I know a guy or two who would pay good coin to get their hands on one of those medallions.”

“Collectors?”

“Of course.” The unsettling grin got even wider. “I already sold a cat and a bear medallion to them. Got lucky and found the first witcher dead already. The second one wasn’t too hard to take out after he was already hurt from a fight.”

A different man, blond and a bit leaner than the one who had just spoken, ran a hand through his beard and threw a glance around the tavern, making sure no one was listening in. Lark tightened his grip around his pint to stop his fingers from twitching nervously, and did his best to look interested in the paintings of herons on the opposite wall.

“What are you suggesting, Leslaw?”

Leslaw leaned in closer to his companions.

“I think you know what I’m suggesting. Let’s get rid of the bastard. No one will cry over a witcher. Fuck, the alderman might even thank us that he won’t have to pay him after all.” He lowered his raspy voice until Lark had to strain his ears to understand him. “I say we wait for him to come back from the hunt and slit his throat while he’s tired from the fight.” Lark watched as Leslaw’s hand went to his belt and patted the dagger that was fastened to it. “The three of us should be able to handle him easily. We split the coin we get for the medallion and the sword and whatever else he has with him. Bet that horse of his isn’t cheap eitcher.”

The blonde man cocked his head in contemplation. “How about we wait a little longer? Let him collect his coin first. You’ve seen him. The way he behaves, I wouldn’t be surprised if he manages to piss of the town and get chased out.”

The words made Lark flinch, his ale sloshing onto the table, but he paid no mind to the mess. In an instant, his mind was roaring with phantom crowds, chasing him away, throwing rocks, hurling insults and waving pitchforks at him.

His throat grew tight and his hand pressed against his stomach, trying to get rid of a pain that wasn’t truly there. His breath came out in pants and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to fight off the images of an angry mob that made his heart race.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to focus back on the conversation of the strangers.

“- that’ll tire him out even more and we’ll make more profit if he has the 150 nobles he was promised.”

Lark’s stomach churned and he had to push the ale away, lest the smell made him even more nauseous. Knowing now, that these men were bandits, it wasn’t hard to recognise that the clothes they were wearing had likely not been bought by their own coin – or hadn’t been bought at all, but taken from travellers.

And now they planned on killing a man who was ridding the town of a nearby monster.

Lark’s hand clenched on the table and he could feel his entire body start to tremble from how tense he was. This wasn’t right. Yes, he had been terrified for his life earlier, when the man with the silver sword had been near, but this? Robbing and assassinating him? The thought alone made Lark want to throw up. He had to hold onto the table to keep himself from doing something stupid like going over to the man and demanding what gave them the right to hate the stranger and plan on doing such terrible things to him.

Doing so would only end in his death, or in him being beaten black and blue in the best case.

He knew he should just leave it be. Hell, he was a thief himself! What made him so much different from there men? Just minutes before had he stolen from people in this very room. He kept joking around with Desanka about how nice it was of them that they were helping people carry their bags, permanently. Right now, he had the bottles he had stolen from the stranger with the sword in his pockets.

And yet, the words of the men from the other table didn’t sit right with him. A surge of protectiveness that he couldn’t explain flared up in him. Lark glared at the tankard he had gripped tightly enough that his knuckles turned white.

The scraping of chairs across the floor made him wince and he whipped his head around, just in time to see the bandits get up and shove each other’s shoulders jokingly as they left the tavern.

Standing up as well was a split-second decision for Lark. Without knowing what he was doing, he followed them outside and into an alley leading away from the tavern.

“Hey!” He called out after them, cursing himself for his stupidity, when they turned around with expectant and annoyed expressions. “Uh…” Lark swallowed dryly, his eyes darting from one bandit to the other.

He shouldn’t do this. He really shouldn’t do this. He had enough coin. He had a friend waiting for him. He had no way of talking these men, who were not only greater in number, but also clearly taller and stronger than Lark, out of attacking the man with the silver sword.

And yet, his insides burned with the knowledge that he had no choice. “I heard you talking in there.”

“Oh?” The blond man’s lips quirked up and he raked his eyes over Lark, assessing him with a mocking smirk. “We don’t need a fourth man. And if we did, we wouldn’t ask a short arse like you. Go back to singing your songs.”

Leslaw snorted and fixed Lark with an unsettling grin. “I don’t know, Sven. He could be bait. I heard rumours that a witcher is looking for a blue-eyed boy.” At the laughter of his companions, Leslaw’s grin grew wider. “You hear that, boy? One of the witchers is going to come and eat you.”

A shudder ran down Lark’s back and his fists clenched involuntarily, but he straightened his spine and stared Leslaw unflinchingly in the eyes.

“I don’t want to join you. I want to stop you.”

For a moment, the three bandits just stared at Lark dumbfounded. Then they exchanged looks and burst into laughter, which cut off, as Leslaw stepped uncomfortably close to Lark. Lark stumbled backwards but caught himself.

“Oh that’s adorable,” the bandit drawled. “And how exactly did you plan on doing that?”

Lark didn’t know what possessed him. If anyone had asked him, he would have said that it was the alcohol in his bloodstream making him rash, though he hadn’t drunk nearly enough to get tipsy.

And yet, there was no denying that what he did next, was the stupidest thing he could have possibly done.

He spat at Leslaw’s face and while the bandit squeezed his eyes shut to not get any spit in there and raised his arms to wipe the spit away, Lark threw a punch.

His fist never connected with its mark. The blond man, Sven, caught his arm mid-swing, twisting it painfully.

Lark let out a gasp, his knees folding beneath him to lessen the fire razing through his twisted wrist.

Sven let go of his arm, but before Lark had time to right himself, a kick hit him in the stomach. All air was pushed out of him. His hands scraped on the hard ground when he tried to catch his fall.

“Little bastard!” Leslaw spat and kicked him again. “The fuck do you think you’re doing? You want to end up like the witcher will?”

He grabbed Lark by the front of his doublet and yanked him up. Immediately, Lark’s hands came up to braze himself against the man.

“You’re friends with the mutant?” Leslaw’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’d want to protect his life? Well, listen to me, arsehole. Your own life is worth barely more than that mutants.”

Lark flinched at the words and his heart hammered rapidly in his chest. But not only because of Leslaw’s words and the burning pain in Lark’s side and palms. Oh no. His heart was racing, because Leslaw in his rage, gave no sign of noticing that Lark’s hands had wandered down and snatched the dagger strapped to his belt. With a flick of his wrist, Lark let the weapon disappear into the sleeve of his doublet, praying neither one of the other bandits had noticed the movement.

“You can count yourself lucky that we won’t kill you like him.” Leslaw shoved him off. Lark’s bag fell to the ground, the food he had packed spilling onto the street. “You’re not worth it, little rat.”

Lark’s eyes darted over to Sven and the third bandit. Sven’s hand twitched towards a pocket in his coat.

When Leslaw shoved Lark again, Lark made sure to direct his stumble straight into Sven, using the flash of surprise to dip his hand into the pocket.

He could barely contain his triumphant grin, when he found a small knife in it. The small moment of pride and triumph quickly got replaced by agonizing fire flaring up in his nose as a fist connected with it.

Lark didn’t know how long the bandits continued shoving him from one to the other, while hurling insults and threats at him. He didn’t know how many punches and kicks he endured, until he no longer had the fight in him to lighten the bandits’ load by taking their weapons off of them.

At the end, he was just a boy, cowering on the ground with his hands clutched over his head to shield his face from any more attacks. Blood ran out of his nose and the split on his lip.

He barely registered the bandits crouching down beside him to grab his bag. A whimper left Lark’s lips as they took his coin away from him and left him, each one giving him a last kick as a warning when they abandoned him there.

For what felt like an hour, Lark just lay there in that dark alley, trembling and flinching every time he moved and got hit by another wave of pain. Already, dark bruises were blooming on his skin.

And yet, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, leaning heavily against the wall of a house, cursing himself with every motion.

How could he have been so stupid? He didn’t attack people. Never! Not even when his own survival was on the line. So why on earth had he thrown that punch? Especially, when he had known that that wasn’t a fight he’s ever be able to win? Confronting those men at all had been foolish, but fighting them? He might have just as well signed his own death sentence. He was so damn lucky that they didn’t care enough about him to actually kill him.

And yet, he couldn’t find it in him to regret it. It didn’t make sense! Risking his life for a complete stranger, one that would probably not hesitate to cut him down, was madness!

He shook his head, but the feeling that he had done the right thing – that he should do it again, if he needed to – didn’t leave him.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, willing his thoughts to calm. He needed to breathe. He needed to get out of here before the bandits realised that Lark had stolen from them and came back to teach him another lesson.

With pain racing through his veins, he gritted his teeth and pushed off the wall, coming to stand on wobbly legs. The small weapons he had stolen clattered to the ground and in a fit of helpless rage, he kicked them away, until all he had left was Leslaw’s dagger. He stared at it and took up back, running his fingers over the sheath. The weight of the dagger felt unfamiliar in his hand. Too heavy, when compared to the prop dagger Lark owned. This weapon had been used to hurt before.

But it would hurt no more. The man whom this blade had been intended for would not die by it.

Lark’s expression turned to one of grim satisfaction. Someone as ruthless and determined to inflict pain as the bandits were, probably didn’t need knifes to win a fight – Lark was living proof of that – and it wasn’t unlikely they had more weapons stashed somewhere else. But for now, Lark let the feeling of triumph sweep over him. Though he might not have thwarted their plans, he had definitely inconvenienced them. Maybe it would be enough to give the stranger with the silver sword the edge during a fight. Whether he lived or died, Lark had done all he could to help him. He had no reason to keep thinking about him.

Lark just wanted to go home. He just he wasn’t alone and in so much pain. The feeling of maybe having saved the stranger’s life, didn’t help against the way his body ached.

Yet, as he made his way back to the woods outside the city, his pain miraculously lessening with each step he took, he found that he couldn’t stop thinking about the stranger and wishing against his better judgement that he would get to see him safe and alive. But what a foolish wish that was. Lark had other things to worry about.

Like the strange prickling in the back of his neck that wouldn’t leave him on his way back. And, as he should have realised as he walked deeper into the woods, he should have worried about the beast the bandits had mentioned was hunting in these woods.

[rosierocks30]

Hidden: Ch.9

Chapter 9: Love, Passion, and Desire

Somewhere in Paradis Isle, Eren had been writing a letter to his older brother, Zeke since they both decided to be separate so neither of them got caught. 

For many months, the Titan shifter couldn’t get over the rejection of Queen Historia. At first, he thought; what does she see in Captain Levi? Eren had a lot of respect for his former captain, but it confused him how these two end up being together? They have so many differences. He can guess, Historia was probably into older men. After all, didn’t she tell him that her mother was around her age when she was seeing Lord Reiss? Historia’s father was twice older than her mother yet they had Historia. 

The younger Jaeger finished his letter then tucked it into an envelope to be ready to send soon. They were preparing for the war coming soon. Eren was ready to unleash The Rumbling that Ymir Fritz showed him through the Path. 

He had been thinking about what his brother said before they split up into different directions. 

(Flashback)

“What’s your backing up plan if we can’t access The Rumbling?” Zeke sat on a tree trunk while drinking a canteen of water. 

Eren was already contemplating the question. “If we can’t do it soon then we’ll wait, until it’s the right time.” He sighed and glanced at his brother. “I had a dream last night. There were people screaming and running from some weird light destroying their city. It looked too advanced. Then it shifted to two figures running and jumping on some glass-like surface to climb up in a strange building to see a group of humans working on metals and fire wielding tools to melt the metals into shapes. A woman appeared to explain to me this was what humans were before the collapse of an ancient civilization used to exist.” 

Zeke was concerned about what Eren had dreamt. “What ancient civilization do you refer to? This dream of yours is getting bizarre. Maybe we need to get rid of that strange sphere object that you found in the ruins of Reiss’s chapel. All it does is make you crazy and I need you to be focused.” he scolded Eren. 

“No! We can’t get rid of it. This object holds the key to humanity and our freedom.” Eren glared at his brother while holding the sphere possessively. 

Zeke rubbed his temple spots from frustration of his little brother’s behavior. “Eren, that thing is causing you nothing but trouble. You kept mumbling in your sleep about finding your Eve. Who is this Eve?” He asked. 

Eren keeps thinking about what he dreamt last night. All he can think of is the woman with a strange dress. She said her name was Minerva. So what does Minerva want him to find this Eve? He had contacted Ymir through the Path, but she doesn’t know anything what his dream meant. All she said was that Minerva is ancient. The origin of humanity is not what it seems. 

“I don’t know. I just know I need to find her.” Eren said with determination. 

(End of Flashback) 

The green-eyed man stared down at the sphere. The Apple of Eden. This object had given him other dreams or should he say visions. These visions were the past that humanity had forgotten through thousands of years.

Eren puts the object back into the drawer of the night stand next to the bed. He walked out of his room that was checked in from an inn. As the titan shifter keeps walking on the streets, he accidentally bumps into a stranger. 

“Oh sorry for bumping you.” He looks up at the stranger to see they’re steel grey. 

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t see where I was going.” This stranger is a woman. Her accent is not from here nor Marleyan. The way she spoke Eldian was not obviously her first language. She does seem foreigner. Where is she from? This woman does look cute. 

Eren rubbed his brown hair shyly. Why was he blushing over some stranger he just literally met. She is very attractive, don’t get him wrong, but he still has strong feelings for Historia. Well, he wants to believe his feelings are real. Zeke told him it was his craziness from the object that made him think they were real. Eren doesn’t know anymore what’s real or not. 

“It’s fine. It was an accident. You don’t seem like you're here? Are you a foreigner?” He said. 

The woman was caught off guard. Maybe she’s some spy? The unknown woman stepped back. “Yeah...what of it? Can this foreigner enjoy her vacation.” She said in a defensive tone. 

He uses his hands to make a surrender gesture to her. “No no you can enjoy your vacation. Sorry, it’s just...your accent gave away.” He resumes observing the woman in the front of him. Her brown hair flows as the light breeze passes by between them. Her skin tone was a bit tan with yellow undertone. As his eyes lower further down, he likes what he sees. Her body toned well, probably from working out. Her clothes were unique but it looked good on her. The trouser pants were tight and the blouse was black with two thin straps on her shoulders. Is this woman trying to get men’s attention or she’s not aware her choice of clothing can get her in serious trouble. 

“Hey buddy, I know I’m hot, but my eyes are up here.” Her voice snapped his trance back to reality. Well shit, he’s embarrassed. 

“You know what your wearing can give a man the wrong message.” He warned her. 

Her brow raised up. Seriously this woman kind of reminds him of someone he used to idolize as a kid during his Scouts years. 

“And what message do I seem to give? You are a man, so what is that message I am giving to you?” Her lips form into a smirk. Eren doesn’t know how to respond to that. This woman is bold but mysterious too. 

“Well um...I-I…” Eren’s face was flushed from still struggling to respond. He took off his trench coat and put it on the woman. “Just be careful ok. You’re lucky, you bumped into me and not some creep.” 

The brown haired woman was a bit startled by his gentlemanly actions. She let him put her on his coat. “Thanks.” 

Eren nodded then walked away. Before he vanished from the woman’s view, she stopped him. “Wait! Where do you live so I can give it back to you?” She asked. 

His head turned around to glance at her. “You can drop it off at the inn in front of you. Just say you’re looking for Eren.” He thought about giving away his full name, but since he is a wanted man, it’s smart not to give away his true identity. 

“So your name is Eren? Nice to meet you. You can call me...Eve.” She said. 

This caught his attention. Eve? He took a glimpse one more time to see her already gone through the crowds. He remembered what Minerva in his dreams said. Find your Eve. He resumed walking to his destination thinking about the bold woman he just met. 

(Somewhere in the capitol) 

The sunlight hits through the balcony to warm up the skins of two figures enjoying their afternoon activity. The sound of the bed squeaking loud along the moans. 

“Oh my Lord! Nathaniel.” Gilbert moans from the ecstasy of the orgasm he received.  

“My beautiful Gilly, your moans are heaven to me.” He showered his lover with praises. 

“As long I pleased you, I am satisfied.” Gilbert blushed. 

“You always have pleased me especially the assassination of Premier Zackely that you succeed.” The templar smiled. 

“But now Dot Pixis is the new Premier. It should have been one of our men.” Gilly frowned from the result of his mission. 

“Don’t be upset. Darius Zackely was a dangerous man. He was so closed to figure out my connections with The Templars and planning to dethrone that Whore. Who would ever thought, both the queen and the captain are expecting soon.” He growled in anger from all his hard work that was about to be revealed. Luckily, silencing Zackely made it possible to continue his work. 

“Will you still try to marry her?” The thought of his lover marrying someone else still hurts him. 

“In order to be King, yes I must.” Nathaniel cups his hands on Gilbert’s cheek. “Listen Gilbert, she’s just going to be my queen for temporary until she gives me a proper heir.” 

“What about the current unborn child she is carrying?” Gilbert said. 

“With Ackerman blood running in its veins, the unborn baby will be just a personal bodyguard or will be groomed to be a templar.” Nathan was not cruel enough to end a child’s life whether they were threatening to be on the throne. 

“Soon our plan is about to be executed and this island will be ours.” Nathan smiled while kissing Gilbert’s neck softly. The both lovers continue their lovemaking which they pre-celebrated their plan will be achieved soon. 

(Military base in Marley)

Reiner was heading to visit his family before leaving for the coastline where you can see The Devil’s Island or Paradise Isle. 

He missed his mother’s cooking. Already his cousin, Gabi arrived at his mother’s home probably helping out making dinner. 

A shadow passed by him to get into a dark alley. This caught his eye as he turned to the left. Reiner couldn’t see who it was, but the figure was covered in an odd thick white sweater with a hood attached to it. The figure was a bit smaller than him. So the Armored Titan runs after this figure. If he caught this spy, Reiner would get more praised as a Warrior and they won’t keep doubting him of his loyalty to his country. 

The figure began to climb up the wooden storage boxes to get on the rooftop without an effort. 

“Hey, stop there spy!” He shouted while getting up to the rooftop. 

The figure stopped but it was several feet away from him. Reiner could see a glimpse of black long hair stick out as the breeze made the locks float along. The face was still hidden half way, but Reiner could see the person’s pink lips and creamy skin tone. 

This spy would be a female. The blond man started to run after her. The “spy” quickly paced away. When she reaches the edge of the roof, Reiner grins as he is so close to capture. 

“You can’t escape.” He said. 

The figure glanced across to estimate the other rooftop building was enough for her to make a jump. Then she ran to leap on the other roof. Her body rolls smoothly to the surface. Reiner frowned that she managed to make it. He decided to also make a leap to catch up to the woman. He will not let this spy escape. 

Once he gained enough speed to make a jump from the edge of the rooftop, he landed and rolled down with minor scratches. He gets up to resume his chase. 

As the mysterious figure reaches another “deadend”, she stops to calculate where to escape next. Shit, remember what one of the Assassin Masters said in her training. When she was about to make another leap, Reiner tackled her down which they fell off the roof to a pile of empty carton boxes in another alley. 

“I got you, spy.” Reiner glared down as he removed the hood. 

He was shocked to see those dark eyes. “Mikasa Ackerman? What are your intentions here in Marley?” 

Mikasa growls at him while kneeling him to the diaphragm hard. He lost his breathing pattern as he began to cough. Mikasa rolls to get up, but Reiner reaches quick of her ankle to make her trip. 

“Oh no, you’re not escaping.” He pinned her to make sure she does try to wiggle her way out. 

“Oh fuck you traitor! Like I would tell you why I’m here.” She gives off her infamous Ackerman glare. 

“If you answered my questions maybe I will let you go.” He said. A part of him wants to let her go since she was a former comrade of his. He held so much respect for the raven haired woman. The Eldian-Marleyan soldier had an inter battle with himself. 

“Like you would keep your promise?” She chuckled sarcastically. 

“You are an enemy. I’m just a fellow who follows the rules.” He said. 

Mikasa was thinking of a way to escape. Well, fuck she’s screw. He knows she’s here in Marley. There’s a chance Reiner will report to his superiors and will send a group of soldiers after her. Her mission is about to be ruined. 

“Aren’t you a good little soldier.” Her eyes roll at him. 

“I see you still haven’t answered any of my questions, Ackerman.” He grinned down his teeth in annoyance. 

“And I see you’re still pinning me down but we both can’t get what we want right now.” She said. 

She thought about to headbutt him then stab him with her hidden blade, but Mikasa doesn’t have the guts to seriously harm a former friend. Her memories with Reiner in Cadet years were good enough not wanting to kill him. Yes, he done stupid shit like kidnaping Eren in the past along with Bertholdt and Ymir. The newly assassin noticed that Reiner had grown well into a fine man. That was a disturbing thought. 

“You were never the type with sarcasm.” He pointed out. 

“Things had changed since you and Bertholdt had betrayed us.” Mikasa said. 

She had a crazy idea that could help her get out of his grasp. Mikasa stared into him. Before Reiner continues talking, she leans towards him to catch him off guard to press her lips on his. Of course, like she predicted, Reiner was shocked by Mikasa’s bold action. What the raven haired beauty didn’t predict is the way she is kissing him. His lips were soft but firm.

Reiner becomes lost in the way her pink soft lips move so well adjusted against his own. He deepens the kiss to win by dominating the kiss. Of course, she won’t let that happen easily. Mikasa licks his bottom lip to have them open enough to stick her tongue and explore. 

Oh fuck, he taste so good and forbidden-wait what? What is she saying?! Being lost from the tasting Reiner, the newly assassin snapped back into reality. Mikasa surprised Reiner by kneeing him with force into his gut with her knee then knocked him off of her with a high kick to the head. The titan shifter rolled a few feet away from her. The dark haired beauty Ackerman gets up to finally escape before he regains that hard kick to his head. 

While she vanished from his view, Reiner was overwhelmed with mixed emotions of what just had happened right now. Did she and him just kiss? Reiner Braun was not the ladies man as his comrades like to think. His mind was always about the missions and duties for his motherland country. Distraction was out of the question. The blonde bulky man touched his lips that’s still warm and tingling from the spontaneous kiss with Mikasa Ackerman, his supposed enemy. 

(Survey Corps Headquarter in Mitras)

William Miles was in the court yard where Scouts soldiers spar or work out. Since he had been residing here, his assassins also reside here to plan and spar each other or with other soldiers. His grandson’s squad are quick to pick up moves during their training as new recruits. With the deal he and Levi made, this gives the team the opportunity to head on into battle when war comes. Bill had finally met the queen one on one in the months early. He was pleased his granddaughter in law was the perfect image of what most assassin's want in a spouse. She encouraged Levi to train under him. Levi was too stubborn, but he will listen to his wife or Hange or his comrades. Since yesterday, both family members finally had that closure they needed. His son, Jacob wanted his girlfriend and son to live in a better place. Of course, it was too late when he died to be able to fulfill that promise to Kuchel. She died without knowing what had happened to his son. The poor girl. He had helped dig up her grave with Levi to take her remains to at least buried her along with his son. Maybe this will bring peace for the mother of his first grandchild. 

The mentor assassin had another shocking news. One his assassins residing in New Your City found out his younger son, Desmond had a child too. Seriously, what the fuck were his sons were thinking? Didn’t they ever carry a damn condom ever? Don’t get him wrong. He is happy finding out he has another grandson, but the poor boy isn’t lucky from being hostage under Abstergo, the templars main corporation to try to dominate the world. 

This made the elder man furious that these scums dared to make this baby another of their “subjects”. For fuck’s sake, it’s a god damn infant. They are taking way too far for collecting his bloodline’s data. What are they exactly looking for? Adam and Eve? He chuckled sarcastically at that thought. 

For months, he was getting updates on his infant grandson, Elijah. He put the same assassin undercover as a staff in that company to make sure nothing dangerous happened to his other grandchild. He needs time to make a risky plan to get the baby out of the templars’ grasp. Levi was in rage when he also found out about his infant cousin. He was ready to go there and wipe out anyone there. 

(Flashback) 

“Are you fucking shitty me?! I don’t know who’s the worst, the sickos in Underground City or the Templars? ‘Cause to me both are at the same level in harming little babies.” Levi ranted while his blood boiled in rage for finding out about his little cousin. This world is a cruel place even without Titans involved. 

“Levi, I am enraged as much as you are, but we need to be level headed. We’ll make a careful calculated plan to rescue the baby. He deserves to be here with us, his family. I already sent one of my assassins to keep an eye on him. I just want to tell you because he’s your baby cousin.” Miles said with a calm tone. Levi has every right to be furious, but to get into blood rage won’t end well for anyone. 

“But after the war, we’ll get him or I’ll go myself.” Levi said. 

“We’ll save him together...don’t worry, I promise.” Bill was already behind Levi as his hand placed on his grandson’s shoulder to comfort him. 

(Flashback ends)

William Miles was in front of Commander Hange’s office door then knocked softly to let her know it’s him. 

“Come in.” Her tone seemed to be distracted when a knock was heard. 

He opened the door to see Hange absorb into her own side projects. Bill closed the door then sat on the chair in front of the desk. “Did I come in at a bad time?”

“Hm? Oh no, you’re fine. I was just doing light reading before I called it a day. So what can I do for you, Bill?” Hange closed her book on Astro-Phycis Theories. Bill raised his eyebrow to notice that her book doesn’t seem light to him. 

“You are a very strange woman if you consider that light reading.” He said.

Hange laughed at his comment. She adjusts her glasses. “I hope that’s a good thing.” 

“Oh trust me. It’s definitely a good thing, Zoe.” Bill grinned and got up to go towards where she’s sitting. The commander was confused when she felt his warm lips on hers. This is a surprising turn for Zoe. Both Miles and Hange had been flirting but never had the made. Some of the Scout soldiers and assassins laid a bet on who would make the move or how long will happen? This finally made Levi confront his grandfather about Hange in the morning. 

(Flashback)

“Oi old man. When will you have the balls to make a move on Four Eyes? Because I don’t need a distracting Commander every time you two get flirty but don’t do shit. And trust me, she rarely gets distracted unless it’s a new science like Titan related or something.” Levi barged into his old room since he let his grandfather have it. 

“Well good morning you to my dear grandson.” He sat up from the bed and yawned.

“Tch. Why are you still in bed anyways? Do you know what time it is?” Levi scolded at Bill. 

The mentor glanced at his cellphone to see the time. “Damn it Levi, it’s 6 am. Why do you have to wake me up that early?” He rubbed his eyes. 

“What the hell do you mean early? Everyone had been awake since 4 am.” The raven haired soldier rolled his eyes. 

“I stood up most of the night to help Zoe on the security measures on the coastline close to Marley.” He yawned again. 

“And yet I’m surprised both of you didn’t jump on each other. You and Four Eyes are like shy teenagers that are too afraid to make a move.” Levi mumbled while running his finger on the hard surface of the furniture. His fingers gather dust which his expression becomes disguised and annoyed. “You should clean this room. It’s filthy.” 

The older man flopped on the mattress and groaned in annoyance. Seriously, this boy has OCD or something. “Levi, can we talk about this later when I’m fully awake.”

On Levi’s other hand, he holds his cup of tea as he sips. “Tch, just giving you advice, Hange is not the type to make the first move since she loves to analyze anything including then men she starts to have feelings with. So don’t take long to do or you’ll miss your chance.”

Bill was silent but absorbed what his grandson had said. He has also been distracted too whenever he secretly ogles at messy brown haired beauty. Maybe he should consider what Levi said. Bill can’t believe he’s being given advice  by his own grandson on making a move. 

(Flashback end)

Bill moans from the kiss as he can feel Zoe’s arms wrapped around his neck and pressed against each other. The mentor assassin already had the commander on her desk sitting while he slowly made her laid on the hard surface. Most of the stuff was on the floor since Hange quickly swept off to clear the desk after the first surprise kiss from Bill. 

She blushed from the way his eyes were clouded with lust. It’s been a long time since she has been with a man. The first time meeting William was filled with curiosity. As a few months had passed they flirted here and there, but neither one didn’t make a move. It could be a culture boundary or age gap issue, but Commander Zoe Hange never had attempted to make a move in her life. She may not be shy in general but when it comes to her love life, she becomes lost that not even science can’t help her. 

For an old man, he looks younger than his age. He could pass in his 50s, but then again Levi looks younger than what he is. Must be in the family. 

All her thoughts were gone when Bill kissed down her neck to the valley of her breasts. Huh? She didn’t feel his hands undo her white blouse. Her ponytail was undone too. 

Hange moaning softly from his tongue running on top of her breasts. She quickly let the  blouse slide off of her and her bra is now on display for him to see. 

Bill stopped to admire how flushed her face was and her hair was spread out on her desk. Her chest rose up and down from breathing heavily. To him, she already looks magnificently beautiful.  

“Well, this is not what I expect but I’m not complaining.” She chuckled while playfully undoing his shirt. 

“Good, I wanted you ever since we met.” He took off his shirt when she undo his buttons. William begins to grind on her. Zoe aggressively kisses his neck while pulling his hair. 

“I wanted you as well. It had been frustrating getting off from thinking of you instead feeling your touch.” Hange mumbling as Miles takes off her pants. His warm hand caressing from her ankle to her inner thigh. Her breath panting harder. Her panties start to get soak from the wetness she has been producing from his kisses and touches. 

“Ah, you have been thinking of me? Show me when you do when you think of me.” Bill leans to her ear to whisper. 

The commander slowly let her fingers travel down her body then stopped to rub the hem of her panties. She can tell how William’s eyes become darker while following the movement of her fingers going further below. Zoe smirks as her finger hooks on the hem to carefully pull down the fabric garment to teasingly reveal her dark small pubic hairs. The way Bill’s tongue licks on his lips made her moan erotically. Oh fuck, how hot he looks the way he stares at her like a starve animal.

She continues to pull down until it's off from her legs. Her finger presses on her clit to start rotating gently as a wave of pleasure spreads out on her body. Hange moaning low his name which he stops her to resume by him instead. 

“You’re beautiful, Zoe. Don’t forget that.” His lips kissed her neck again. 

“Am I?” She has mixed feelings of being called beautiful. Most of her life, she never considers herself to try to be pretty. What’s the point when she has a brain to make her standout from everyone? The first time someone looked at her as a woman and called her beautiful was her former lover. He died an honorable hero for leading the retake of Shiganshina. That was long ago. Erwin would tell her everyday so she would one day accept that she always has beauty too in her unique way.  

“Yes.” Bill glanced at her with a soft but determined look. He was still fingering her deep which arched her back of the ecstasy of pleasure. 

Her eyes get watery then growls with desire to have him pounding her. Her hands make way to his pants to undo them roughly. “Fuck me now please..”

He chuckled and let her undo his pants. “Someone is eager.” He teased her. 

“Of course, for months I have to use my imagination of your dick pounding me, unless with your old age; you’re impotent to keep up my stamina.” Her tone was playfully as she looked into his eyes. 

“Oh my genius Zoe. I may be old, but I can still fuck your brains out. You forget that I’m an assassin. My stamina will not be an issue.” He smirks wickedly. Hange couldn’t help feel the excitement of what Bill will do to her. 

“Guess you have to remind me.” The Commander of the Survey Corps grins while whispering. A loud gasp came out from her lips when she felt his manhood entering her.

“I certainly will.” He moans while adjusting himself inside her. His dark eyes stared into her honey brown eyes. 

As the rhythmic of their bodies move as one, the new lovers keep embracing the passion that ignites from the months of pining for each other. 

Meanwhile on the other side of the Commander’s door, three figures walking pass by until they heard moans. 

“Connie, do you hear that?” Jean stops to listen where that noise is coming from. 

“Yeah, probably it’s a ghost or something.” Connie shrugs. 

Then a louder noise was heard. “Oh harder! Harder, harder!” A feminine voice made erotic noise.

“That’s one horny ghost all right.” Mario, one of William’s assassins grin as he has an idea where the noise came from. Both Survey Corps soldiers finally get what their new friend was saying and blushes while all three walk away from the noise. 

A/N: Hello guys! Sorry this chapter took so long. It’s been another busy week for me and I tried to get it done before Christmas. Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas! Also, Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the last one. I hope this chapter will do for you all until the next one. See you guys later until next time with Ch.10. Love you all!

[andromedaatnight]

may day—

Things in Andromeda’s life happened like clockwork. There was a grand plan, and she marched perfectly to its beat. When something went wrong, it was never something so simple as an anomaly. Some part of her must have known, of course, which was why she found herself in an entirely arbitrary part of Muggle London that Saturday.

There was obviously no one watching her. No one here knew her. Yet she dawdled, fumbling with paper notes to buy herself a coffee, and staring down into that coffee as she stepped into the chemist’s shop. She considered the strange rows of Muggle candy before picking up a stick of chewing gum and a random magazine, strolling down the aisles like she had nowhere to be. She plucked three pregnancy tests off their shelf without even looking.

There were magical ways to know, of course, but Andromeda was terribly certain someone would find out if she tried them at Wimbourne or worse, at home. Especially not after everyone had spent a week with babies, and infants were necessarily on the mind. This was perfectly anonymous. It’s going to be negative anyway, she told herself as she paid for her things and left. The Mandrake baby exercise made her want to be sure — that was all. She had walked far enough from the spot she’d Apparated to in order to find a chemist’s close by to a hotel; she ducked into the cute little inn then, the plastic bag tucked away in her purse. 

Well-dressed pretty women had the run of nice establishments, she knew, and she’d spent her life training to come across well-dressed and pretty. Andromeda smiled apologetically at the girl at the front desk, and pled the use of a loo. She was pointed immediately down a hallway.

The little restroom was so quiet she could hear the tick of her wristwatch’s second hand. It was a two-hour wait, but where else could she have gone? The test was supposed to be undisturbed for that entire time period. She made certain her wand was within reach — if anyone came to check why she was lingering for so long, she was not above the Confundus. Then she pulled out the magazine and began to read. 

The names and faces were so comically foreign, the magazine might as well have been a storybook. An advertisement to stay at the Waldorf Hotel in New York was squeezed in beside an essay about divorce and custody; a fashion spread announced that bold colours were in; a photographer ruminated on the meaning of fragrance. (This one delighted her most of all — how could Muggle photos give any sense of fragrance? Their art was incredibly interpretative, breathtakingly so. When you had no magic you created it anyway.) 

Andromeda grew so absorbed in reading and rereading the magazine that she missed the two-hour mark, looking up a full forty-five minutes after the tests had run their course. Her heart stuck in her throat; she shoved the magazine away and picked up the first test, peering into its little mirror. 

She set down the first test, and picked up the second. And then the third. Three little brown rings had looked back at her, like open eyes. What are you going to do now? they seemed to be asking.

“Huh,” Andromeda said aloud, as if this were merely an interesting result on her independent study. Then she bundled up the tests and tossed them, scrubbed her hands, and Apparated back to Wimbourne.

Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. It could not be a word that applied to her, and yet it was. She could check again with a potion — she had planned to even if the tests had shown up negative. But the tests were 97% accurate for positive results, the box said. Three positive tests slimmed that 3% chance of error enough that she knew what the potion would say too. She sat down with a thump on her bed, smoothing a hand over the skirt of her dress. And then she began to cry.

It took her a minute or so of quiet weeping to realise that, for the first time in weeks, she was not crying of pain or frustration or anguish. She was — relieved. This solved everything, didn’t it? She could not marry Cyrus. She could not— 

But that fantasy screeched to a halt as soon as it had begun. Of course it would not go like that. She could tell her mother and ask for the engagement to be called off, but Druella would strong-arm her into getting rid of it, and then life would continue as normal. She would be jerked right back into the grand plan. Her hand went to her stomach. She didn’t want to let this — the baby, a baby, her baby — go. This was a choice she had to make, both for herself and for...the baby. It wouldn’t be like raising a Mandrake child with Alice. (How stupid she felt now, for joking with her friend all week about unexpected pregnancies.) This would take time.

But how long until she began to show? Andromeda had no bloody idea. It would probably be sometime over the summer, but the very thought of lying for three more months made her sick. Someone would look at her and know — her mother would be able to tell. She’d have to — watch her health, come up with reasons not to drink, and what if she were sick every morning?  And her sisters... 

She jumped up, the first stab of anxiety finally hitting. Who could she ask for advice? Alice had too much on her plate already, and Emmeline ought to be there for her; most of her friends were automatically ruled out because of who they were related to— She paused in her pacing, a small sob escaping once more. She had no one to tell. No one at all to confide in. The realisation made her sink to her knees, hands pressed over her mouth. 

If she could not tell a soul she could not stay. But perhaps time away would do her some good. Her coursework was all but done, and surely McGonagall could be convinced to allow her to finish it by correspondence, and she could come back for exams when she knew what to do— And she was a legal adult, Hogwarts could not be pressed upon to tell her parents where she was— Paris is beautiful in the spring, she thought dizzily. It could not be magical Paris, not where her parents could find her, but she knew enough about Muggles to escape too much scrutiny. Yes, she could be perfectly unknown, just a face in the crowd...like she had been that morning: not a name or a history, just a stranger. 

It tumbled into her mind so fully formed and obvious that she wondered if part of her had been planning for this all along. Andromeda straightened and dried her cheeks, charming the door locked with a thought. She flipped open her beautiful moss-green leather trunk, yanked open her drawers, whispering spells and watching her belongings neatly pack themselves away. She’d purchased wads of Muggle currency in advance for this chemist’s trip; she never quite knew how much was enough, and so she had plenty left. All she had to do was leave a note to reassure her family, speak to McGonagall, and go.  

How sweet it would be to disappear entirely; she could feel all the burdens of her life easing already. She caught sight of herself in the window. It had grown dark early, and the rain was falling in sheets. Her reflection looked like a watercolour. She was smiling. She would finally be able to think. If she’d only had time and space, how much of these past few months would have gone differently? She might’ve asked her parents for more time; she might have confided in her sisters earlier. She might have been honest with Ted.

Ted. The perfect euphoria of her plans trembled for a moment; her clothes hung in midair. Everything was holding its breath. All he’d wanted from her was honesty. Andromeda hadn’t even paused to consider his stake in this — but he deserved to know, at least. Of all the mistakes she’d made, she would not make one with him again.

Andromeda locked her trunk and shrugged on her coat, turning on the spot. She appeared with a crack in front of No. 7, rain immediately seeping through her coat. She pushed her wet hair behind her ears and knocked on the front door.

[ladynestaarcheron]

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Ten

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti ​ @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos@sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me)

hey guys!! i am so very excited to be able to post chapter ten of like pristine glass so early. i wrote nearly all of it today!! 2.5k words!! i really thought that with my school load this was going to take me another two weeks!! guess 2020 is off to a great start for me; hope it is just as wonderful for you the whole way through<3

and thank you to my beautiful beta @thestarwhowishes!!

---

October 30 - 4 years after

  Feyre and Elain are silent at the room in the inn while they wait for Cassian to return. But he doesn’t. Not all night.

Feyre’s miserably upset at herself, running the whole thing over in her mind, again and again, wishing she had just not said anything. They were already on thin ice with her, and they knew that Nesta was letting them rush her, and that she’d be looking for any reason to pull herself and her children out of the agreement. And thanks to Feyre, she didn’t have to look very far.

She could have just not said anything. That’s what she keeps thinking. How many times had Nesta granted her the same courtesy, bit her tongue around Feyre’s family? Nearly every gathering. 

She hadn’t meant it maliciously; she is sure Nesta knows that.

“All right,” Elain says, suddenly, grudgingly, “don’t...don’t kill yourself over this.”

Feyre looks up. “I didn’t mean it,” she says, her voice weak.

“I know.” Elain sounds more like herself now: gentle, comforting. “And she...she knows too. It’ll take her a while, but Cassian...” Elain trails off.

Will Cassian sway Nesta’s forgiveness? Or will he not want to risk her anger turning on him?

Neither of them know.

“We’ll try again when Cassian says she’s agreed to it,” Elain decides.

That’s all they have left to do.

November 9 - 1 year after

  Sugar Books was very different than Emerie’s shop for a myriad of reasons, but Nesta thought the main one was that here, her boss did not particularly care what she was doing.

It was the oddest thing, especially considering all Sugar Valley natives were deeply invested in each other’s going-ons. But Adil did not appear to care what she did nor what the other employees did. He had tasks for them, sure, but he did not seem to every check in on anyone. He never gave Nesta more detailed instructions than Organize this . In fact, he hardly spoke to her at all.

So she jumped when he said to her, “You don’t like humans?

She was on her break (no one told her to take breaks, she just took them intermittently), reading a book in one of the corners of the store. She hadn’t seen him come up behind her. “What?”

He gestured to the book. “You have a look on your face. That’s a human novel. You don’t like them?”

Nesta closed the book and showed him the cover. “It’s faerie-authored, about humans,” she said. “And I...like humans just fine. But they’re poorly written here.”

“You know a lot about writing humans?” He didn’t say it condescendingly, but sounded rather skeptical.

Despite herself, Nesta’s lip twitched upwards. “I’m...very well versed in human nature and human literature.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve read more human-authored novels than otherwise,” she said, which was true, but probably wouldn’t be for much longer. “And I...lived amongst them.” She hadn’t told that to anyone in Sugar Valley. No one here knew who she really was.

Adil’s eyebrows shot upwards. “You lived amongst humans?”

I t sounded...silly, when he said it. Living amongst humans. But...it was true. “I did. For...for over twenty years.”

" Hmm,” he said, squinting at her. “Come with me.”

Rubbish book still in her hands, she followed him through the back room, to his office. He reached under his desk and pulled up a box. “Recognize any of these?” he said, opening it and motioning her to come look.

Nesta peered inside.

Classic, mostly. Some newer ones, popular authors from the Continent.

All human.

“Yes,” she said, softly, picking up one of them and inspecting it. An old favorite...she hadn’t seen a copy in years.... “I need a human-authored archivist,” he said. “That entails reading all the books in a timely manner, fixing them up--perhaps adding ink, spining--and setting a price. Is that something you’d be interested in?”

Nesta blinked at him.

“It’d be more hours, but it’d pay better than your current position.”

Nesta pursed her lips. “Are you...offering me an archivist’s position...because I like to read?”

Adil frowned. “You love books.”

“All right, I love to read. What difference does it make?”

“I didn’t say you love to read. I said you love books. That’s what I need. You were reading that book even though you didn’t like it...why?”

Nesta shrugged. “I wanted to see how it ended. It was poorly written, but...compelling...the way a carriage wreck is, I suppose.”

"T hat’s all I need in my archivists,” he insisted. “A love of books.”

Ne sta looked into the box again. A love of books...was not, in her opinion, a brilliant business strategy.

“It’s yours if you want it,” he said.

But this was not her business. And it was better pay.

And she did love books.

“I do,” she said. “I can start...now.”

Adil nodded once. “Then get Zeyn to show you what to do,” he said, already turning to leave, “and take that box with you.”

October 31 - 4 years after

  Nesta feels Cassian’s presence the moment she wakes up; in her blood and bones, so intense she forgets where she is. She feels for a moment that she is in his house in Illyria.

Then she remembers. She is at her home in Sugar Valley and her children are lying in their beds waiting for her, and that thought pulls her out of bed.

She feels indescribably strange as she readies herself for the day. She’s picking out clothes and preparing herself in her bathing room--and he’s there . He was here while she slept and he is here while she’s changing and he’ll be there for breakfast.

But she sees him even before that; for when she leaves her bedroom to go to the children’s, he is there, waiting for her.

“Good morning,” he says, the moment he sees her.

“Good morning,” she replies, caught off guard. 

“Do they...get up themselves? Or....”

“Only when I want to sleep in,” she says, with a small smile. “No, I normally wake them. They generally stay in bed until I come in.

“Oh,” he says. Hesitates. “Can I...?”

She shrugs. “All right.” She walks past him to open the door.

Nesta lowers herself by Avery first and bends down to kiss her cheek. “Good morning, ladybug,” she says to her.

Avery groans a little as she writhes in her bed and opens her eyes slowly. They pop and she sits up when she sees Cassian. “Appa!” she says, excited, and launches herself forward to hug him.

Nicky and Ollie stir at their sister’s cry. Ollie sees Cassian first and kicks off his own sheets and rushes to them as well. Nicky follows suit.

Nesta goes stiff even as her heart spasms at the sight of the four of them holding onto each other and laughing--she is thrilled they are happy, but doesn’t know how long this will last. Cassian’s not going to be here every morning. He doesn’t exactly have a job that guarantees weekends off.

(And she is...perhaps...the tiniest bit jealous. They have never thrown themselves at her in the morning.)

No matter, she tells herself. “Brush your teeth, you three,” she says, and she motions for Cassian to follow her out of the room.

Nicky bounds after them, as usual. “We’re going downstairs with Mummy and Appa?” he asks, the sheer exhilaration in his voice more than enough to make her regret her earlier envy.

She is their constant. Cassian is new. And they feel the same connection. He is their father, she is their mother--there is the same connection, and they must feel it. That’s why they’re excited.

Nicky grabs her hand and Cassian’s and pulls them down the stairs, and she will not allow herself to dwell on her complicity in keeping them all separated. Not while her son is clinging to her and babbling on about what he wants for breakfast and what he will do today at nursery and if Appa will be home after nursery, too, and if they can go to the park again, and will his aunts be at the park?

Nesta grimaces to herself--she doesn’t want to think of Feyre and Elain now, either.

She has enough to deal with. How to...work her way around the kitchen with Cassian inside as well. Will they make breakfast together? Will they both try and convince Avery to drink more juice?

The thought, she is surprised to realize, is a warm one. Having...a partner...whom Avery sees as Nesta’s equal....

But this is all far too much for so early in the morning. So Nesta rids her mind of the countless unwanted thoughts swirling through her head and starts making them breakfast.

November 17 - Year of

  She had come home late last night from the bonfires. He could feel that she wasn’t in the house when he arrived, and heard her come in from his room. The smoky smell had woven itself in her hair and she carried it in with her. He didn’t like it much; it obscured her own scent.

But he was thrilled about one thing--if she was ready for a night out at a bonfire with over a hundred Illyrians she didn’t know, she was ready for breakfast with him.

She normally got up early now, what with her new job. But perhaps Emerie had told her to take her time today, because he only heard her rise past nine.

Cassian tried not to hum to himself as he worked his way around the kitchen, but he couldn’t help it. Nesta was going to sit for a meal with him. They’d have a real civilised conversation. Maybe even pleasant. And then she’d go to work and she’d come home and they'd have dinner together...and then...and then...what?

He wasn’t entirely sure what was going to happen. He knew what Feyre wanted to happen--Nesta would have enough time and space to cool down, and after a few months, she’d ask to be brought back to Velaris, and pick up where she left off with her sisters when Feyre first came back from Prythian.

Thinking through the plan now, Cassian couldn’t help but scoff at their own naivety. Well, his and Feyre’s naivety. He was sure Rhys thought Nesta was beyond all hope, and he didn’t know why Amren had thought this was a good idea.

But now he feared Illyria wasn’t cooling Nesta off; it was freezing her in a different way. The nothing in her eyes was gone, sure, but the fire was not back.

He missed her.

He straightened as he felt her behind him. “Good morning,” he said, not sharing any of the whirlwind of emotions he felt inside him in his voice.

“Good morning,” she replied, carefully, after a beat.

“Breakfast?” he said, still keeping his voice casual. He slid the omelet he had made her onto a plate and turned around to see her.

“Sure,” she said, taking his offering.

Cassian fought back a grin. Sure was like thank you from Nesta.

She sat down at the table. He did too.

S he didn’t object.

“Coffee?”

“No,” she said. Then she added, “That’s all right.”

Another alternative to thank you. This was going well.

“So,” he said, watching her cut the omelet into small pieces and eat it, “you came home rather late last night.”

Nesta lowered her fork. She didn’t say anything, just looked at him.

Ah. Wrong thing to say. He shouldn’t push her too far. “You were at the bonfire, right?” He made himself sound like he didn’t care too much, and stood up while he said it to go to the fridge. He pretended he was mindlessly browsing when he said, “Was it fun?”

Nesta was quiet for a moment. Then she slowly went back to her omelet. “It was all right.”

“Oh, did you try the smoked hazelnut? Sweet, right?” He stopped himself before he said, Like chocolate.

For the bar still lay there on the counter, both of them dutifully ignoring it.

Nesta muttered something noncommittal. He didn’t blame her. Sweet, right? What a stupid thing to say.

“Well,” he said, returning to the table with two glasses and a jug of orange juice. “Nice that you had a good time with Emerie. Maybe next time you’ll come with me to a bonfire.” He looked up to grin at her from pouring the juice.

Nesta put down her fork forcefully and straightened--no easy task, considering she was always so stiffly upright, anyway. Except when she was reading, of course.

“Do you think,” Nesta began, her tone harsh and cold as the ice he feared these mountains had made her, “that I have forgotten that you are entirely complicit in my exile to this backwater region? Do you think I have simply moved on from the fact you all saw it fit to leave me here for days on my own with no one else I know, in a war camp full of people who hate and fear me?”

It was the most she had said to him in nearly a year. His eyes widened as he watched hers fill with some sort of power-- her power.

Did she mean...was she talking about when he left to the neighboring camps? That she was...scared? When he left her?

“Allow me to assure you,” she continued, face set in her perfect, contained rage, “I have not forgotten, and I will never forget.”

And with that, she stood up and stalked out of the kitchen.

Cassian put down the jug of orange juice he had squeezed himself that morning and walked over to the liquor cabinet.

She hated him, so it was not too early for whiskey, but it was far too late for freshly squeezed orange juice.

Well , he thought miserably, at least we talked .

October 31 - 4 years after

  Rhys is waiting for them when they arrive. Elain hadn’t expected anything else, but she’s still annoyed. She’s not yet forgiven him for...everything.

“How was it?” Rhys asked. “Cassian...he stayed?”

“It was going perfectly well until I ruined it,” Feyre tells him, and although Elain doesn’t want her sister to dwell on their sorrows, she doesn’t disagree. “Cassian told us to leave. He’s going to be staying there for a while.”

Rhys frowns. “What about the armies?”

“He says he trusts the Illyrian camp lords to run everything themselves for a while, and the other forces in the Southern territory effectively run themselves anyway,” Feyre says, shrugging. “I told him to take as much time as he needs.”

Rhys nods, and, although she is still upset with him, Elain allows him this: he never places his word above Feyre’s.

“Maybe...you should go alone next time, Elain,” Feyre says to her. “I mean, she might not be angry with you. Or at least, she’ll forgive you sooner.”

Elain is not in the mood to hear Rhys soothe Feyre and quickly says, “I’m just going to get settled back in now,” and leaves before he can start.

S he hears him say, “Why do you think you ruined it?”

Elain feels a loose tug on her ribs when she shuts the door to her room. She ignores it and pulls up her shields tighter.

It appears there is more than one irritating male mate around today.

The thought is so Nesta-like it makes her laugh out loud. Her heart aches, but...she met her niece and nephews. Her beautiful niece and nephews, perfect and small and like the best parts of Nesta and Cassian.

And some of her! Ollie’s hair is like hers! And Ava’s face; as similar to hers and Feyre’s as they are to Nesta. And Nicky’s going to have the same lips she does. She can tell.

So despite it all, Elain can’t help but smile as she undresses and steps into the back.

Nesta will not stay mad at them forever. And when she is finally ready to let them back into her life, there will be more love than ever before.

---

Chapter Eleven

[randomnameless]

What do you think about morally grey in three houses?

Hmm…

There has been several posts recently discussing this particular topic, which boiled down to “what is morally grey” and, well, this is an interesting question!

I’d say “grey” is when someone isn’t completely black or white, but has elements of both alignments. 

The obvious having been stated, it makes me think about several other tropes, like the “pet the dog” trope or “morality pet”.

Does having good intentions but shit execution means you’re grey? It depends! What is the “shit execution”? Eating babies? Forgeting to put the lid on your pan full of boiling water because you were super busy to, idk, bring pregnant wife to the hospital, so when your old mom tried to add pasta to the pan she burnt herself and died?

I’d say it depends on what are your limits and what you deem acceptable or not and uh, apparently, killing people in prevention they might do something wrong isn’t black enough to dilute the pool into “too black you will need to add 5 liters of bleach to get a clearer result”…

I’ve said it before, but the purple giant deciding to snap his fingers to get rid of half of the population to save the world isn’t, to my tastes, morally grey. It’s still 50% of people dying because someone decided and they weren’t consulted.

If those 50% agreed to it though? It’s immediatly more complicated, not for them, but for the guy/woman holding the trigger - they want to die to save the world, but will you really kill them? (i think this had been adressed in Tales of the Abyss at one point).

Look at Quanism - it has both good and bad aspects.

Quan will cross a desert twice (even if the second time he kind of failed) to save and help his best friend Sigurd, because he might need help and will even accompany him during his various journeys in foreign states. Quan will defend his country (mmh) and his people against Thracian invasions. Quan’s people have Leonster’s best interests at heart.

Quan will also shit on Thracia, put outrageous prices on food exported there, act as the High King of what seems to be a federation of several sovereign kingdoms and often call Verdane people barbarians.

Was Quan a bad guy, or a good guy?

Ultimately, in FE5, Leif refuses Quanism. Given a crapton of circumstances, he finds his own doctrine (well the peninsula is united under his rule, like Quan would have wanted, but Thracians aren’t exiled or relegated to shit like Quan might have done if he had been in his son’s shiny boots).

The Hero ™ isn’t grey, or tries his hardest not to be. Sometimes he manages to do that by disgusting asspulls, sometimes he succeeds by thinking out of the box, sometimes he doesn’t and falls in the grey spectrum - where we can still ask ourselves, is he still the hero, or how does the fact that falling in the grey spectrum impacts him?

FE9 Naesala, and arguably in FE10, refuses to be called a good king or a good leader. He will prioritise his kingdom and his people first, but is perfectly aware that he is not The Hero ™ Tibarn represents. Naesala has good intentions at heart, shit execution and refuses to be called or even thought as heroic. It is heavily implied that he “atones” for the rest of his life, and is willing to be used as a punching ball by Tibarn because of what happened in Phoenicis.

Arvis might have had the best intention, he completely crossed the line. I personally don’t think he knew Manfroy and co would hunt children and go on a murder spree in the 1st gen, but, and this is what is truly fightening, I don’t know if Arvis would have stopped his association with Manfroy if he knew (maybe he would have tried to backstab him to prevent such a thing from happening, but it’s the same dilemna we had with Lyon in FE8, are you really going to work with evil forces to do something because you think you can control them? If you do, then what does that make you?)

Ultimately Arvis tries to redeem himself, by asspulling saving all children and dying by Seliph’s hands - does that make him grey if associating with Manfroy and conquering the continent turned his color spectrum to black? Or was Arvis “morally black” since the beginning?

On the other end of the spectrum, Sigurd’s invasion of Augstria (and Verdane but no one cares about barbarians) feels wrong (at least I felt so). Sigurd is even called on it by Eldingan, and FE4′s biased narrator says that during the occupation, Sigurd’s occupying forces did some shit. 

Is his incompetence/reluctance/ignorance that his troops were “doing some shit” in Augstria dark enough to change his color spectrum? Can we hold the fact that he is a knight so he cannot disobey/doesn’t think about disobeying orders even if they are about subjugating a country and removing its king against him? Sigurd grows in Silesse, but then he dies :’(

But still, is Sigurd morally grey? I don’t think so. Maybe after his death he would have been, or he would have retained his knightly values, we will never know. Faced with Lewyn’s dilemna - continuing the fight that will kill many, or going home and letting many die - Sigurd doesn’t know how to answer. But this is a good thing, he might have turned into the Hero ™ who solves problems by thinking out of the box. Or he would have tried to, idk.

Sigurd isn’t loyal good, nope, he goes against orders to protect Shannan. I’d say chaotic good, but it ultimately doesn’t matter, imo, Sigurd’s pretty “morally white”.

This isn’t really on topic though, your question, and by extension the concept of morally grey is actually asking if said character is “moral” or “amoral” by your own standards!

On FE16 :

Boar!Dimitri is an interesting case. Boar!Dimitri wants and will, if Billy isn’t with him, fight until his last breath in a desperate attempt to kill Edelgard. In AM, where we see Boar!Dimitri and interact with him, it’s implied that Boar!Dimitri wants to be a boar and fight against Edel, but he will not force his former friends to join him in his quest. He tries to tell everyone off, saying “they’re too weak” or some liability, but we ultimately see it with Dedue and Rodrigue that despite his tuskers, Boar!Dimitri doesn’t want people to die for him.

Is Boar!Dimitri morally grey? He is driven by his revenge and yet, he will not do “everything” to get Edel’s head. He will not sacrifice his friends for Edel’s death (then of course comes the question “but they’re following him so if pulls a Leeroy Jenkins they will follow” which is right). Still, the fact that he prioritises his revenge and Edel over his people is pretty meh in my book especially since Rodrigue told him that they’re starving etc. Then there’s his useless cruelty dealing with Randolf which sucks. Everything taken into consideration I’d say that, imo, Dimitri’s a light shade of “morally grey”.

Claude isn’t morally grey at all. He desperatly wants to be, but imo, he reads more like Virion (and/or Innes, I totally forgot about him).

Given the dev’s interview and all, Claude will not sacrifice his friends, and puts survival as his top priority. He wants to look like a heartless schemer, ready to do anything to achieve his goals, but just like Virion, in a real life situation? Nope. Claude will escape, and find a way/lament if his friends fell because they weren’t supposed to. With the Innes comparison, I’d say Hilda might be his Gerik - he told/ordered her to get away and escape, she says fig it and stays until the end.

Claude might have been the Hero ™ who thinks out of the box, but there are no boxes in FE16… 

Claude’s morally white, he has his ambitions but won’t cross his own thresholds to achieve them. Of course there’s the “it’d be nice if Rhea disappeared” at the end of VW, but, because the plot asked for it or not, Rhea dies at the end of VW. Claude doesn’t have to get rid of her, and even if she didn’t, would he truly do it or wasn’t it a Virion-boast? Would Claude kill the person who sacrificed herself twice to save them, or have her killed? I don’t know. I don’t think so.

Also, given from his Flayn’s supports and the scenes where he loses his calm, while he really wants to find answers to his questions and about the true history of Fodlan, Claude will not try to force them out of someone who’s reluctant to tell them. Yes he lost his shit with Rhea, and yet, he didn’t force her to reveal the truth, and even let her go to catch some much needed rest acknowledging she only told him a half-truth, or avoided his question.

Edel? I confess I had a very serious case of bias towards Arvis when I joined the Jugdral fandom and the “for the greater good” motto. 

Allying with Thales and pals though, wait, i know I’ve said above that it wouldn’t have changed a thing about Arvis if he knew Manfroy’d hunt children - it wouldn’t have for the greater plot, but to me, Arvis would have fallen into the “morally black” pit way faster than he did. I like my Tumblr username, I like my mooks, I don’t like using them as war assets or the idea of even using them. FFS we’re using feral laguz randoms here, and even Miccy in her “i will do everything to protect Daien” didn’t use them.

She might have started a war, but shows regret for the bloodshed going as far as to lament at Dimitri’s death in CF despite the irony of that map - she knows that what she is doing is wrong, but thinks it needs to be done to build a better future. However, the “starting a war” + “Kostas in the prologue” look like Arvis in his best moments - and he is morally black - but “using beasts as backup” + “giving Emile hunting grounds” and everything about lizards and eradication sets her in the “morally black” spectrum.

Edel knows what are her limits between the “acceptable” and “not acceptable”, but for the sake of her goals, she will cross all of them. But she is no sociopath, or cruel person, she doesn’t enjoy crossing those lines and yet she feels it is compulsory to reach her goals.

i’d like to see an Arvis/Edel support convo

Rhea? I’d say grey, on the grounds of creating someone with the intent for it to be used as vessel is really creepy, but then, transmutation/alchemy/creating artificial sentient lives is creepy in itself and raises a ton of bioethical issues i’m not ready to deal with in this post because it’s already long as fuck and this is crossing beyond fandom discussion. Rhea knows that her experiments are questionable, and she’s ashamed of them but felt they were a necessity - pretty much like someone crossing their moral line and turning “morally black”. 

This point is neutralised in game though, because Rhea succeeded and the side Sothis choose ultimately won the war - so yes, Fodlan needed Sothis and Rhea’s homonculi were ultimately key to bring peace/prosperity to Fodlan... IMO, it’s still questionable, even if the game rewards it.

Rhea will not cross all of her lines though, she said the church will go against anyone who targets the students and the monastery, and she means it going as far as to blow her cover twice turning into a dragon to protect the students/Billy and his pals in part 2.

Also, national bias at play, but rewritting history not to alienate thousands of supporters of the side who lost the war is pretty grey in itself. Slowing technological progress? We know the reasons, if the book in the DLC, despite Linhardt’s warnings has to be believed, since the devs said so. Is it something that would count as morally “black”? Idk, maybe? Or maybe i’ve read/watched too much sci-fi stuff where one of the most common plot point is “humanity isn’t advanced enough to know how to use this technology”. It is grey, but Rhea doesn’t fall in the “morally black” spectrum, she’s a darker shade of grey than Boar!Dimitri, for sure, but she’s still, IMO, grey.

This is not to say that Edel’s evil and Claude’s good/whatever the contrary adjective of evil is! Or to say X/Y/Z is a better character than A/B/C! 

I love Arvis and Hilda (FE4!Hilda) to death, and I prefer them to Siggy and Eldie. But I also know that they’re not supposed to be liked because they were right or because what they did was the right thing, nope.

Tl;dr : Morally grey, black or white depends on who you’re talking to, and if FE16 brought us something new, it’s that not everyone thinks that doing a certain thing is evil, or, on the contrary, a good thing. 

There’s no consensus on what is “good” or “wrong” which can be interpretated in all kinds of worrying (?) ways.

[starshinegoblin]

Kisses in the Dark

Prompt: a kiss in a place of insecurity Notes: @ruensroad - told ya i was going challenge myself into writing for the two. So here it is ♥3♥. In this AU, Xue Yang and A-Qing are siblings in the Jin Sect. Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan are still best friends that travel and hunt evil together. Their dream dies of creating their own sect when Xiao Xingchen becomes beguiled by Xue Yang and begins actively courting him. Also, Wen Qing became sect leader after the fall of Wen Ruohan. Wen Xu and Wen Chao died during that time. Pishachas - a demons that eat the flesh of the dead.

“Ugh, don’t  go to xiongzhang looking like that!” A-Qing fussed as he stepped into hanshi of their rooms. It was terribly late when he got back from the training grounds. The sessions with Tang Fei instructing always had them going home late. He was sweaty, slightly covered in dirt, and a cut on his cheek from today’s training.  

 “What are you tal-“ Xue Yang frowned upset that his little sister was already fussing at him. Something that she had been prone to do recently when she’d found out about them. The last letter he’d gotten from Xiao Xingchen said that the man was going to be in Qishan for a while aiding Wen Qing, Wen sects new sect leader in getting rid of an infestation of pishachas. 

 A-Qing rolled her eyes from where she sat at the low table drinking some tea. She sighed, pointing to the simple brown box with a black ribbon keeping it closed on Xue Yang’s desk. His eyes widened in surprise for only a moment. He didn’t need to open it to know the contents. It is an all too familiar gift that he’d begun to receive after Xiao Xingchen had started courting him. The man ever perceptive with his ash colored eyes was able to notice Xue Yang’s sweet tooth. So every time he was in, he would send Xue Yang a box of candy. It had become the sign that he was in town.

 Xue Yang made his way over tracking in sand. He undid the the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside was individually wrapped candy pieces in a butchers paper. He grinned taking two out, tossing one to his sister as he opened one for himself. The taste of chocolate making him smile. 

 “Now, go take a bath. You stink.” His sister complained catching the candy. 

 “So do you with that flowery perfume. Maybe you should use less if you want to catch Jin Chan’s attention.” Xue Yang teased, both of them knowing that her perfume smelled wonderful and she only used a little of it. A-Qing gave him a playfully glare while he laughed going to get himself cleaned up. 

 After his bath and some scolding from his sister, Xue Yang left to go to Xiao Xingchen. It wouldn’t take him long to get here. The man always chose the same place and even the same room to stay when he was in. It was a reasonable distance between the magistrate and Xue Yang and A-Qing’s home. 

 It’d been so easy to slip inside his Daozhang’s room at the inn. The window had been left partially opened. No need for the stairs. Not that he cared about being seen but it made it easier to keep his partner’s friend from stopping him. Shoving his thoughts about Song Lan to the far reaches of his mind.

 He was here to be with Xiao Xingchen. There isn’t any room for the other man to be in his thoughts. His gaze shifting to the sleeping form in the middle of the bed. He quietly rid himself of his robes letting them fall carelessly to the ground as he approached the bed. Leaving himself only in his trousers. 

 He came to a stop at the bedside taking out his hair piece and ribbon that kept his hair up. He set them on the nightstand along with Xiao Xingchen’s own. His fingertips gently caressing the beautiful hairpin that he’d gifted the other man. A private smile forming on his lips at the thought that his Daozhang wears it daily now instead of that delicate one he used to use. 

 The shifting of sheets had him stirring from his thoughts. He turned to find that his lover was still asleep looking soft and inviting with the moonlight on his porcelain skin.  Xue Yang slipped under the sheets moving close behind him. His arm wrapping around Xiao Xingchen’s waist pulling him flush against him. The older man’s back to his chest. He tucked his face into the nape of his Daozhang’s neck. 

 “A-Yang.” Xiao Xingchen sleepily murmured, as Xue Yang nuzzled begins his ear. 

 Xue Yang smirked at the sound however it faded as his partner’s lithe fingers wrapped around his wrist. The one still covered by his brace that hid his missing finger. It was silly that he still felt insecure about openly wearing the brace in the other’s presence. He didn’t have to be because Xiao Xingchen knows about it. But still the old creeping feeling of having him being rejected because of it was still there. 

 “Why are you wearing this?” His Daozhang asked with confusion running his hand along the firm but still worn  leather. 

 “I..” Xue Yang started to take his arm back but Xiao Xingchen’s grip tightened preventing him from doing so.  “Daozhang...”

 “We discussed this before but perhaps talking isn’t what needs to be done.” Xiao Xingchen stated, untying the leather straps keeping the brace on. Once the brace was undone he tossed it away from the bed. The sound of it hitting the floor somewhere in darkness. 

 Xue Yang was going to say something but the words caught in his throat as Xiao Xingchen lifted his hand pressing a firm kiss to the center of his palm. The Daozhang’s lips lingered for a moment too long making Xue Yang’s heart start to race. He could feel the upward tilt of the man’s lips before he began to pepper feather light kisses up each of his fingers. His breath hitching when at long last those soft lips focused on his scarred nub where the finger used to be. It’d been years since it had happened but still the flesh was sensitive.The warmth of the other’s breath mixed with softness of those lips sent a shiver of want went through him. 

 Xiao Xingchen smirked at the sound of the other’s sharp intake of breath. The sound divine to him as he felt the other shiver. He pressed one last kiss to the nub before quickly manhandling Xue Yang from behind him to in front of him on his back. 

 “Daozhang!” Xue Yue called him in confusion and surprise as the older man crawled over top of him.  Xiao Xingchen pointedly making sure to intertwine his fingers with Xue Yang’s deformed hand. The daozhang chuckled moving their joined hands beside the younger man’s head leaning down capturing those parted lips in a deep kiss. 

Read the collection of kisses here // prompt list ~ req open

[anne-lister-adventures]

Saturday, 2 May 1840

6 3/4

1 3/4

Very fine morning and Reaumur 10 1/2º at 6 3/4 a.m. the German woman came with butter A[Ann] wrong again because I took one instead of half a pound      surely I shall now stick to my purpose and get rid of her some way or other as well as I can 

At 10 came Hoffman for 1/2 the money in advance for the carriage doing yet he has been since Wednesday morning and done nothing at it! I would give him the money if he would give me security for having it done as he promised I said on Tuesday but it was agreed to be done on Monday evening – No! He had taken 2 Calêches to do, and the Kibitka was to be ready next Tuesday week! No! said I, I must be auge or demidieu not to be out of patience with this – Tell the man I wish him good morning – And I sent George with compliments to Mr. Chwostoff to ask him to be so good as say when he could come –

I should go out today at 1 1/2 for a couple of hours except this had no engagement – George can literally do nothing i.e. get nothing done for us – What can be the reason of it? I cannot comprehend the man he is Russian – It is not that he cannot explain what is wanted – Had George in soon afterwards about what to do with Domna – Mentioned her going to Mr. Besoc’s – Longish talk – George went to her, and brought word back that she should not like to be at Mr. B-s[Besoc’s] all the people being Georgians – What would she like? To be at the house of a Marchand here whose wife had been to visit her – Said I had nothing to say against her objection to Mr. Besoc’s – Would consult Mr. Chwostoff tonight – George to inquire into the volonté of Domná and if her volonté and mine agreed, the matter would be easy – If not, I would arrange some other way – But if she returned I saw no way but his going with her – A-[Ann] and I sat talking things over she mending gloves &c. at my elbow, I drinking raisin tea and eating the raisins being thirsty – Then wrote the last 8 lines till now 1 5/’’ – 

At 1 1/2 Hajie Yoosoof came and brought a youth with him – At the moment Madame and Mademoiselle Golovin were announced sent off Hajie and received the ladies who sat some time very civil Mr. Stadler soon came and sat more than 1/2 the time they were here, and after they went took him with us to the Gymnase for Hajie returned for us soon after 2 – 

Large handsome building 60 élèves du Gouvernement – Building 50,000/- and 3,000/- (en argent) per annum allowed in the Directeur and Master of the School only arrived about a month ago from St. P-[Petersburg] the latter had been 3 years at St. P-[Petersburg] a student before that at Charkoff – 

The Tiflis Gymmase. (Image Source)

He shewed us his translation into Russian of Romeo and Juliet, and his Baudry-Paris Edition of Shakspeare[Shakespeare] in 2 volumes large 8vo.[octavo] – Good clear print – The edition corrected by Chalmers – Well-informed gentlemanly man – Turned to Macbeth – The beginning – Aroint thee witch – The glossary explained it – Avaunt – Begone – Mentioned the conjecture of a learned Scotsman (Dr. Hunter ages ago to my Aunt Anne) – That aroint thee should probably be a rowan tree, witch – i.e. the rowan tree or mountain ash was a spell against witchcraft – Or it might mean, that the shaft of the besom on which witches rode was generally of rowan tree, and that the witch should betake herself to it and begone – But now on writing this (at 10 55/’’ p.m.) it seems to me that the conjecture was that rowan tree witch, meant, there is, or I have, or beware of, a rowantree, or spell against thy powers, and will have nothing to say to thee – 

The rooms of the Gymnase large lofty and good – And the master’s apartment very nice and comfortable – Tasted the soup the roast beef and soup the 5 boys remaining (vacance – All the rest gone to their friends to return next week) had for dinner – very good beef – Tender – Best we have tasted here – The Maître de Pension gave us chocolate and excellent Savoy Biscuits as we talked over Shakespeare – Mr. Stadler, too, at home on the subject of English Literature – 

From there to Hajie Yoosoofs house in the square Abasabad – He shewed us several dictionaries and grammars – English Richardson’s Dictionary and Sir William Jones’s Grammar and Jauberts French Turkish Grammar – At last shewed his own MS. Grammar in Persian Tartar and Turkish – Had given 29 lessons to a young Prince Tchetchevadsoff (vide the name right spelt a p.[page] or 2 back) and he could already read and speak a little Persian – Mr. Stadler as we talked it over afterwards thought our Hajie’s grammar quite on an Eastern plan, no easier to an European, nor so easy as the common method – For my part, I am no judge – But it is probable that Lord Clanricarde will not trouble himself much about grammar or asiatic society in this case – Got away as soon as we could much obliged to Mr. S-[Stadler] – 

Came in at 4 50/’’ – Sat talking – Dinner about 5 17/’’ that is eggs and barley cake and butter and a little cheese and wine and water – Had just got all sided (about 7 p.m.) when Mr. Chwostoff came and staid till 10 25/’’ – Had stood some time but we somehow got to the subject of our English Ministers and their measures and Hein came – 

Soon after Mr. S-[Stadler] came we had sent for Hoffmann who arrived too tipsy to be fit for anything ∴[therefore] sent him off – With Hein la chose s’arrangeait – The carriage to be done on Thursday or Hein to forfeit (to pay) for 55/- S.[Silver] R.[Rubles] which it is now agreed to pay – He to send the carriage back but I to pay for its going to him = 3 or 4 abasses – Does not want paying till the work is done – 

Had talked over the affair of the servants – Of leaving Domna – On C-‘s[Chwostoff’s] saying it would be best to give her so much, and let her arrange for herself, but surprised she would not go chez Mr. Besoc, I proposed giving her her wages as usual and doubling her allowance for nourriture i.e. giving her 2/- a day – Yes! That would be quite enough – And if I gave George 1/- per day for the time he had been here it would be quite enough – 

All this settled we had tea – Green exprès for Mr. C-[Chwostoff] and he probably thought it good; for he took 2 cups – Did not know of any other place (Inn) for us to be at than this – Shops here where nothing but Persian things are sold in a Georgian (Colonel in the Russian Service) here learned in the Persian language and who has just finished or is finishing – Persian Grammar and Dictionary – 

On C-‘s[Chwostoff’s] going away asked what books we could bring from England, should we return to go to Persia, that he would like – But said he was of course aware of the difficulty – All must be sent to the Censureship – He said we should get the Russian Ambassador’s seal put on the package – Box or caisse – This led to explaining the difficulty of this – Lord S.[Stuart] de R-‘s[Rothesay’s] getting our passport signed Whig Ministers &c. &c. – But inquire again as to getting the Russian Minister’s seal – He might safely give it to us – We are certainly not likely to aid the spread of Whig politics – 

C-[Chwostoff] asked to see A-‘s[Ann’s] album – heard we had beautiful views &c. &c. !!! Explained – Shewed A-‘s[Ann’s] little unfinished sketches – I wish we could se fournir de jolies dessins –

Had Domna and had just read a few pp.[pages] of vol.[volume] 3 Dubois and had just written the last 4 1/2 lines of p.[page] 181 and the last p.[page] and so far of this now at 12 10/’’ – Very fine day, but rather windy – 

Mr. C-[Chwostoff] spoke of the amazing of trotting horses in America – The Marquis of Sligo had bought 2 horses in Philadelphia that trotted in double harness 19 English miles an hour with ease – He had given 2000 dollars for one horse – But for 600 dollars one could have a good horse that would trot 19 miles an hour in harness – The American horses taught to trot from their ‘infancy’ –Could trot a mile in 1 20/’’ minutes to 1 1/2 minutes – the latter pace common enough! – I had boasted that our English horses could trot as well as the American – no! said I – now I give in – we cannot do that – a mile in 1/2 minute a common trotting speed = 60 x 2 / 3 = 40 miles an hour!!! they can beat our best blood horses at gallop – Yes! They could – I said I had once ridden 2 miles in 4 minutes and thought it a great thing and I had trotted 14 miles in an hour (the little brown Buskett mare at Skelfler) and thought the galloping in particular a great thing – But I had only gone at the rate of 30 miles an hour and American horses can trot at the rate of 40!!! – 

It seems the great Western America-going steamer is taken up by our government for the India Mail to Alexandria and letters do not now go viâ Marseilles – And by this new arrangement government would save £60,000 a year – Speaking on the head of Whig savings, I said we paid the same taxes as before the petites économies of clerks and ladies pensions &c. &c. and in a time of and after 20 years of profound peace, we still borrowed, Ministers could not make all ends meet! – 

C-[Chwostoff] said we were better off in war – No nation had gained by the peace – Nor England nor Russia nor France still in a precarious state – And we should go on from change to change till we had (such was the sense of his phrase) run the whole rig – Had just written so far now at 12 40/’’

[symbols in the margin of the page:]         ✓       ✓       +          ✓       +          +

[in the margin of the page:]             Hoffman again

[in the margin of the page:]            Gymnase

[in the margin of the page:]            Mr. C-[Chwostoff] drank tea with us

[in the margin of the page:]            Agreement with Hein

Page References: SH:7/ML/E/24/0093 and SH:7/ML/E/24/0094 and SH:7/ML/E/24/0095

[fireintheforest]

Behind the Blue, chapter 15

Thank goodness the robes (mauve with gray, cranberry and gold decorations on the sleeves) were soft and comfortable, because he guessed he’d been sitting in this seat for 89 years. So far the play was a cheesy romance of a couple in forbidden love because of the rivalry between their families, and there were backstabbings, underhand threats, treason, secrets, also a pet bear and a snivelly, corrupt priest for comedy relief. Saufinril had seen Avelle entering with a small group of women, all of them chatting at the same time, at the Princess’s Crown for the play, but decided to give them distance and not approach at once. He awaited until the intermission, when some members of the group, including Avelle, went for the powder room and were now returning to their seats. It was now or never. He walked by the group and accidentally bumped into a shoulder.

“Hey!”

He turned with an arch of his eyebrow to see who he had bumped into, and moved his face into a brightening smile when he saw it had “coincidentally” been Avelle, “If it isn’t the birthday girl!” he crooned.

Her eyes also shone when she recognized him, “Monsieur Cyremin! What are you doing here?” she asked

“One has social business to attend to here, dear. And who’s accompanying you?” he gave the other three women a smile.

“Oh, friends.” Avelle said, waving her hand nonchalantly at them, “Oh, won’t you sit with us?”

“Naturally, dear.” He offered his arm to Avelle, who took it and walked with him and the group to the seats in front of the scenario.

 Meanwhile, outside of the city limits, Sorcise and Toivon walked down the cobbled path of the front lawn.

“What name do I introduce you as?” she asked quietly

“Reynor.” Toivon replied

She gave a nod, “Alright. Let’s stop here.” They were on the side of the estate, “You’ll get a position of house servant, probably under the direction of the butler, who’s a dick. Since Claudette was under my direction and she decided to play the hysterics game, I’m the one that has to find her replacement.”

“Wouldn’t that just add staff to the wrong department, so to speak?”

“It does, and I brought this up, but it’ll rain fire here before anyone hears a godsdamned thing I say.” She sighed and said even quieter, “Get that fucking stone so I can return to Ferchand’s.” Toivon nodded, Sorcise went on, “In any case, they’d also been looking for a second footman for a while. Your duties involve basically serving meals, opening and closing doors, carrying heavy items, and moving furniture for the housemaids to clean behind. Pay is twelve septims a month, one day a week, for half the day, you got it free, three hot meals and a room. Your boss is Hugo Aubry, he’s this pompous fuck with a mole in his left nostril.”

“I’m sure we’ll be bestest friends.” Toivon said. Sorcise just gave him a look and continued to the kitchens with Toivon behind. Most of the servants were inside, gathered around the table and talking over tea and biscuits. They turned to look at Sorcise and the newcomer.

“Alright Mesdames and mesieurs, so I still haven’t found a replacement for Claudette but I found one for Henri. This is Reynor, he’ll be taking the second footman position, and if anyone knows of someone who could be interested in a position as housemaid, send them my way.” She looked around at the people that gave polite nods and observed Toivon, “…this went too well and too politely, where is Aubry?”

“He got called by monsieur Emmanuel.”

“He’s absent, great. The one time he’s going to make my job run smoother. So just to reiterate myself to Reynor here and whoever wasn’t with us during breakfast,” Sorcise gave a pointed look at a ginger woman and a tanned man, who averted their gaze, “last night’s little stunt costed Claudette’s job and Emmanuel is going to want to prevent this at the masquerade next month. Remember not to let any visits go upstairs unless they’re accompanied by someone of the family and to close all doors behind you when you exit them.” The plump lady gave Toivon the tea, he thanked her quietly, “Right, before I forget…”

 The people walked out of the tavern, talking amongst themselves. One of such groups that were commenting and laughing was a group of 3 Breton women and an Altmer, chatting excitedly about the play.

“I always have to fan when I watch William Marquis on a stage.” One of the women swooned as she lazily fanned herself with her hand

“I never thought I’d say this, but Gaston Baptiste as a villain? I think I’m in love!” another one said

“Oh I loved the scene with Tourant and Belle, it was so dreamy!” Avelle exclaimed, “I’m so going to invite Marquis to the masquerade.” As the women chatted along, Avelle suddenly turned to Saufinril, “Monsieur, by the way, where are you staying at?”

“The Marigold.” Saufinril hoped he’d told the right name, “It’s quite charming.”

“It is, but…” Avelle bit her lip, looking at Saufinril and making him wary for a second, “we did enjoy your company tonight and as you now know, my family plans a yearly masquerade. It’s a big event and I’m planning it this year, as it usually landed on my mother to do so. I could use some help completing it because there’s just so many things and your eye for aesthetic could be of use.”

“Oh, mademoiselle Avelle, you flatter one so much.” Saufinril rested a hand on hers, making her blush, “Now, why would you wish for one’s help? One knows you can tackle this task easily and make a memorable masquerade.”

“I know.” Avelle giggled, “But with all that you told us inside about the festivals in the Isles, and this being my first event, why, I want to make something that will blow all expectations! I want people to talk about this event for years! And I know that with your help I could do so. Would you like to be my guest at the manor and assist me?”

Bingo

“Nothing would give one more pleasure than to do so, one can guarantee you.” Saufinril smiled. Avelle gave out an excited squeal.

“Perfect! Come with me to the carriage, we can send a servant to The Marigold to get your things and-” she was cut short by a small laugh that was born from the depths of Saufinril’s sudden panic, despite his amused face.

“Mademoiselle, one appreciates your enthusiasm but one still has another appointment to be at. After all, the patron that was so kind to invite one to the play is waiting for one. One can arrive tomorrow in the morning, however, with no problem.”

“Alright! I’ll send you a carriage at seven.”

“One will await for it.” He gave her hand a squeeze and let her go, accompanied by her friends, who all piled up in a carriage as he turned back to the tavern. As soon as they left, though, Saufinril ran back to his inn and collected his stuff, took off Marley’s robe and packed it, dressed in his usual shirt and pants, and then undid the complicated hairstyle so as to return to his original ponytail. Once this was ready, he went through his bag and counted the money. Not enough. If the Marigold was an exclusive place, the money he had wouldn’t cover it. He passed a hand through his hair. It seems like he’d have to sell something of his.

He took the bag where he put all his jewelry and went through it. Won’t rack a high price. This one either. This one? Maybe, yeah. This one-

“And…open them.”

The first thing Saufinril saw when he opened his eyes was his face, reflected in the mirror. The second thing was Eramon’s face, smiling with anticipation behind him. And the third thing was the opal choker on his neck.

“What the-” Saufinril began

“Happy anniversary, my love.”

He found out later it was Eramon’s husband’s. In a fit of pettiness after their first breakup, when Eramon returned asking for it, Saufinril told him he’d lost it, (meanwhile, the opal choker remained safe in his jewelry box). Then he didn’t put it on again when they got back together.

Saufinril clutched the opal choker and took it to his lips. Although his first thought was of not wanting to part with it, his chest warmed up with the angry glee of getting rid of it. The same vengeful satisfaction he felt after the argument that bloomed after he told Eramon he’d lost it. He wanted to get rid of it.

The opal choker and a couple of rings were the loot that Saufinril took to a jeweler that was about to close. He gave Saufinril an annoyed glance but let him in and paid him back for the jewelry. It was only with a purse full of coin that Saufinril returned to the inn, put Marley’s robes back on again, collected his things, and went by streets, stopping here and there and asking where The Marigold was. Fifteen minutes later, the flowery garden and the rose gold-colored roof and windowpanes of The Marigold came to view.

[mrssakurahatake]

All Your Fault

Sakura couldn’t believe her eyes. She had fallen asleep on the beach, perfectly safe knowing her partner is on watch, and now she has woken up on a pirate ship.

Pirates? Are pirates even a thing? This cannot be happening.

But it was happening. Not only was it happening, but she had no chakra.

Why don’t I have any chakra?

It was then that she realized she was in chakra cuffs. How do pirates have chakra cuffs? She pulled at the restraints behind her back. These weren’t just chakra cuffs; these were her own chakra cuffs.

I am going to kill him.

“Kakashi!”

“Hmmm,” he hummed behind her. She felt him shift. They were back to back.

“Are we really on a pirate ship?”

He had to feel the anger rolling off of her. It was radiating in waves. “It looks that way, Dear.”

“And are these OUR CHAKRA CUFFS?”

He wasn’t sure how to respond. Afterall, the answer was just as obvious to her as it was to him. But he knew his wife well enough to know this wasn’t a rhetorical question. “Yes, I believe they are.”

“How would pirates get our cuffs?”

“I assume they searched my pack.” Again, she probably already knew this.

“Why did you bring chakra cuffs on our mission? We were just supposed to be vaccinating children, and doing check ups! Why would we need chakra cuffs?”

He didn’t know how to answer. At this point he was just going to stick with honesty. “I brought the black box. I guess they found it in my pack after I passed out.”

“You...you brought our toy box on a mission? Wait, you were on watch. How did you pass out?”

“I was planning to stop at an inn on our way back. I already arranged a couple extra days off with Naruto, and let the hospital know. Your mom agreed to watch the kids for two more nights. I was planning to take you to Roykan.”

“Where we had our honeymoon? That is so sweet.”  She relaxed a little behind him. Then she thought about her question. “But you didn’t answer me. Why did you pass out on watch?”

“Mah, that’s not important now, Sakura. Right now what is important...is them.”

Sakura had been so lost in her conversation she hadn’t paid any attention to the audience that was gathering around them. She turned and saw a crew of what to be to be at least twenty men. They looked exactly like every caricature of a pirate she had even seen. She decided to address the one with the biggest hat. If anyone was wearing a hat that large it had to be for a reason. She hoped it indicated he was the captain. “What do you want with us?”

He smiled at her. His teeth were yellowed and uneven. Dark hair framed his sun-withered face, and he fixed her with cold, dark eyes. “Right now all I was is for the two of you to SHUT THE HELL UP.”

Kakashi decided that was his cue to pop in. “Well, that isn’t very nice. Really, if you didn’t want us to speak you should have separated us, or gagged us. Is this your first time taking hostages?” He still couldn’t see Sakura, but he could feel her exasperated eye roll. “And I passed out because I had exhausted my chakra.”

Sakura was stunned by this. “We were walking, not even pushing hard. How did you exhaust all your chakra?”

“Nine days ago I started a challenge with Gai on who could go the longest maintaining the first inner gate. Apparently 8 days 19 hours is my limit.”

“Why would you do that when you knew we had a mission? This has been planned for a month.”

“I can’t turn down a challenge. I really thought the whole think would only take four or five days tops.”

“This has to be the stupidest challenge he has ever given you. Do you even know how dangerous that was? I cannot believe you were dumb enough to accept it.” Her voice held no amusement.

Kakashi swallowed hard before responding, “It was my idea. My turn to pick the challenge.” He waited. She wasn’t answering. The pirates all looked rather shocked. She must be making the you are so dead face. He knew that face well. He was surprised the captain didn’t register the danger that face indicated.

“I thought it would be over quickly, and it wouldn’t require ridiculous handstand laps around the village like last time. Remember how mad you were about that? You told me it was unacceptable behavior for a kage, even a retired one.”

“So you came up with the ridiculously dangerous challenge to keep from embarrassing me?”

“Exactly!”

Sakura’s patience was wearing thin. Her voice was strained as she continued to interrogate him, “Has your chakra restored at all?”

“Well, not yet. But I bet Gai didn’t last that 8 days 19 hours. I hope he didn’t. I am only one challenge ahead right now. If he wins this one, we’d be tied up,” he said matter-of-factly.

The pirate captain felt it was time for him to intervene. “In case you haven’t noticed, you ARE tied up. And you don’t seem concerned about that. Can you tell me why that is?”

Again Kakashi chose to answer him in his most confidant voice, “Oh, that’s easy. Because she’s here.” He tried to turn to Sakura, both to indicate who “she” was and to gauge her reaction. He could feel the annoyance radiating off her. She wasn’t angry any longer, just annoyed. He would like to keep her there.

“I am not doing anything. You got us into this mess. You get us out!”

“That’s not entirely true, Sakura. It was your idea to sleep on the beach. Something about the waves being relaxing. You should’ve woken up. They were in our camp long enough to go through my pack, and somehow get the chakra cuffs on you without you waking up. A kunoichi shouldn’t have slept through all that.” As soon as Kakashi finished speaking he knew he said too much. She was flying right passed angry and heading to pissed.

“Hatake Kakashi, are you seriously suggesting that YOU falling asleep on guard duty, on a mission, is somehow MY fault?” Her voice was stern and sent fear into everyone there. Kakashi thought he might have seen a couple of the pirates take a half step back. He wouldn’t have blamed him. They could see the rage in Sakura’s face. Only a fool would underestimate an irate Sakura.

The captain, it seemed, was a fool. He leaned forward, close to Sakura’s face. “I don’t give a damn whose fault this is, you are both going to stop arguing right now!” For added measure he slapped her. Now, the captain may have been a fool who had no idea what he had gotten himself into, but his crew seemed to be a bit wiser. Kakashi noticed of the twenty or so men who had been standing behind their captain, only eight remained. The others were all slowly slinking below deck.

“Now are you going to get us out of this?” Kakashi assumed the captain's actions would make her forget she was mad at him. He wasn’t that lucky.

“Absolutely not! I am just adding that to the list of things that are YOUR FAULT!”

The captain was stunned by their response. It was as if he wasn’t there at all. “That’s it! I am done. I don’t care how much the bingo book says their bounties are, I want them off my ship. Now. Off. My. Ship!”

Looking around, Sakura immediately saw a problem with the pirate’s declaration. “Um, Captain, we don’t seem to be near a port?”

“Then I guess you will just have to walk the plank.” For the first time the captain seemed to be enjoying himself, obviously unimpressed with the antics of his hostage. He just wanted to be rid of them.

Kakashi couldn’t help but goad her a bit more. “Sakura, did you hear that? They are going to make us walk the plank. Naruto will be so disappointed if we drown. You should really commence with the saving us part.”

“I will not. This is your mess. You fix it!”

“How am I supposed to fix it? I am still worn out from using all my chakra. Hate to say it babe, but you’re the only one who can get us out of this.”

The captain had truly had enough. “I said off my ship.” He turned towards the few remaining crew members on the deck. “What is the problem? Get them off! NOW!”

A few men rushed forward, pulling Kakashi and Sakura to their feet as another pushed a wide plank out over the open water. The pirates began pushing them in that direction.

“Sakura, we both know you can release the Byakugou Seal and break those cuffs. That’s why we use them. So just release the seal and get us out of this mess.” He didn’t sound cheeky anymore. Just tired of the game and ready to get out of this situation.

“Admit this is your fault,” she countered stubbornly.

They were halfway down the plank now with one very nervous pirate pushing them along. He saw no other option. “Sakura, I am sorry. This was all my fault.”

She smiled and released the seal shattering the cuffs on her wrist with a metallic clink. The pirates who remained on the deck backed away. The one who was on the plank took one look at her seal and jumped into the water.

“Kakashi, be a dear, and grab our packs. Make sure the black box is still in there.” She was adjusting her gloves. As an afterthought she added, “Oh and the vaccines too.” They did need to complete their mission after all.

She looked at a very young man. Really not much more than a boy or 13 or 14. “Secure us that boat.” It was a small craft, but it would return then to shore.  The young boy rushed to comply, much to the captain’s displeasure.

“Why are you giving the orders on my ship? Why are you following her orders? There are only TWO OF THEM. THIS IS MY SHIP!”

“Captain, I would advise that you abandon ship,” Kakashi sassed. With that he threw their bags into the small craft that had been lowered for them and jumped off the ship.

Once Kakashi was clear of the ship, Sakura scanned the horizon. She turned to the boy who lowered the boat. “Is that where you picked us up?” She asked indicating with a point.

The boy seemed unable to speak. He opened and closed his mouth but no sound came out. Finally he nodded.

“Thank you.” With that she jumped up and slammed back into the deck. With one chakra-laden punch the ship shattered beneath her.

She skipped across the water, joining Kakashi. “Now we are half a day behind. You better figure this chakra thing out because we are going to push hard to finish on time. I don’t want to miss any time at Roykan. And you need to get me a new set of cuffs.”

He smiled at her, warm and loving. “We can go shopping together. We got those cuffs on our honeymoon, after all.”

Hubby drew some plank walking for me! Don’t repost without permission 

This is for the KakaSaku Pirate Week prompt Walk the Plank on Tumblr and was lovingly beta’d by @yummy--foods

ao3

ff.net

[rumbelleshowdown]

Addendum to a Kiss

Author: Unfinished Symphony Prompt: “Not my fault.” Group: F

Many tears had been shed. Her fists were tender from pounding on the door. She’d called his name so many times that her throat was sore, but hours had passed and there had been no sign of the impossible man, even though she knew he could hear her summons.

By the time the heavy cell door finally creaked open and Rumplestiltskin entered slowly, Belle had worn herself out with protests and resigned herself to whatever he planned to say.

“So. What are you going to do to me?” she asked.

He pointed to the open door. “Go.”

“Go?”

“I don’t want you anymore, dearie.”

He turned his back to her. Belle stared at the stubborn set of his shoulders, outrageous curls brushing his high collar, but couldn’t see his face.

She stood, brushing off her dress and looking at the door that invited her to walk through it, away from the deal she’d made, away from this unpredictable sorcerer who could kill her with a thought, away from this damp cell where she’d already spent far too much time.

And toward what? Back to Avonlea? Her heart clenched at the thought of seeing her father again, of witnessing the look on his face when he realized she’d returned to him unharmed. It would be so easy to return home. It wouldn’t be the same as the childhood home she remembered; even after all the months she’d been gone, they would still be recovering from the Ogres War. She didn’t care about that, though. She’d be happy to help her people rebuild. Was it what she really wanted, though?

“I’m waiting,” he said in a flat voice. “Go. Now.”

“No. It’s not my fault that you’re a coward,” she told his back, and saw his shoulders hunch in on himself. “You told me once that True Love is the most powerful magic in all the realms, and I’m offering it to you freely. Why are you refusing me?”

“You have an inflated opinion of your value. I said I don’t want you.”

“I don’t believe you. And what about what I want?” she asked, making up her mind without being aware of deciding. “Do you think you’re the first man in my life to try to make decisions for me?” Only silence answered her. “I decide. No one else. And I’m staying.”

She sat back down on the unforgiving stone and crossed her arms, glare ready when he turned to stare at her, mouth agape. He recovered quickly, arrogant mask firmly back in place, but she’d seen the crack in his façade.

“What are you playing at? I could kill you in an instant. I’ll reduce you to ashes and send them back to your father in a box,” he threatened.

“You’ve had plenty of chances to kill me,” she shrugged, affecting a calm confidence that she didn’t feel.

“You impudent little…”

He raised his hand, and Belle couldn’t help the flinch as the magic enveloped her. Eyes closed, breath held, she waited. She didn’t know how it felt to be killed by magic, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t this. She’d felt this sensation before. He was… moving her.

“Oof!” Her bottom hit the ground and fresh air brushed her skin, welcome after the dank environment of the cell. She blinked as her eyes adjusted. It was late afternoon and the sun was beginning to set, but even so, it was much brighter out here than where she’d spent the past several hours.

She looked around, seeing a bag next to her with her cloak neatly folded on top of it, and realized she was just outside the castle gates, on the road leading to the nearby village.

“If you think you can…. urrgh!”

She got up and kicked at the bag, which barely moved. It looked heavy, bulging with whatever was inside. Curious, she opened it for a quick perusal of its contents, and looked up at the castle.

“We’re not ending this here, Rumplestiltskin,” she announced to the air.

She braced herself and put all her strength into picking up the bag, only to stumble backward when it proved to be light as air. Of course.

She marched up to the gates, unsure at the last moment if they would open for her, but didn’t halt her forward progress. They did open, and she felt a small sense of satisfaction that she hadn’t been barred from the grounds completely. The main doors opened for her as well, and the doors into the Great Hall, where she found Rumplestiltskin.

He looked up from his spinning wheel, startled, when she stomped over to him and threw the bag at his feet. There was a flash of joy in his eyes, the barest curving of his mouth as if he wanted to smile, before he scowled at her.

“I can’t get rid of you, can I dearie?”

“Is this how you pack for someone you want to get rid of? Someone you don’t care for?” she demanded, kneeling to open the bag. She started taking items out, listing them. “Clothes for any weather. Several days’ worth of food, and I’d wager that it would never run out. My favorite books.” She glanced up, and he looked dumbstruck. She returned to her inventory. “Enough gold coin to buy me a room in the finest inns, and that would probably replenish itself as well. A dagger for protection. First aid supplies, and…” She withdrew a smaller bag, opened it, and looked up at him. “Cloths, for when I bleed. You even thought of that.”

He was studiously looking down, hair covering most of his face, but she was willing to bet he was blushing. “You’ll need those in a couple days,” he murmured.

He’d tracked her monthly cycles. Belle was lost for words for a moment, before she gathered herself and spoke softly.

“Rumple… this is not the action of a heartless monster who wants to get rid of his maid. You care about me; I know you do. So why are you doing this?” She covered his hand with her own, where it rested on his knee. “Talk to me, please.”

“Belle… none of my plans accounted for the possibility of you. I need to see them through. I can’t let anything stand in my way.”

“What plans? And what makes you think I would stop you?”

She waited, but he only drew his golden thread through his fingers, over and over.

“Belle… you must leave.” His voice cracked as he whispered the words.

“I refuse. Send me away a hundred times, and I’ll come back a hundred times, because I love you, and I am choosing you. So you may as well accept it, and I’ll make us some tea and you can tell me about this plan of yours. Maybe I can help.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, simply rose and went to fetch the tea. She paused by the door to look back, finding him staring after her.

In no time, they were seated by the fire, two comfortable chairs pushed together so they could sit side-by-side, and the tea set on a small table between them.

“So…” Belle began, holding her cup between her hands to absorb the heat. “Tell me what you’re trying to do, with this plan.”

“I told you about my son,” he started hesitantly. He stopped again, clearly struggling. Belle placed a gentle hand on his arm, squeezing lightly through the silk, and waited for him to continue. “His name was Bae, and he was the best thing that ever happened to me in my mortal life.”

“You said you lost him,” Belle prompted after a moment. “That must have been devastating.”

He nodded without looking at her.

“How did he die?”

“He didn’t. He’s simply lost, somewhere out there in the realms, and I need to find him.”

For a moment, Belle couldn’t process his words. Rumplestiltskin had been the Dark One for centuries. How could his son still be alive? She voiced her question, hesitant, but she had to ask.

“I know he’s alive, Belle! And I have to find him, to tell him that I’m sorry I let him go, and tell him how much I love him. I must, or all this power I possess is for nothing!”

Agitated, he set his cup down with a clatter and began pacing before the fire, and Belle suddenly thought of her mother. What would she give for just five more minutes with her? For the chance to say that she loved her, one last time?

Belle stood, and placed herself in Rumple’s path so he was forced to stop. She reached out and grasped both his hands, bringing them to her lips for a kiss.

“Of course you must find him. And I’ll help however I can. We’ll find Bae… together.”

This time, he didn’t try to stop the smile.