#I hated those sheets where you had to read like a certain number of books or whatever over the course of a semester or the year or whatever

[seilon]

love when this is referred to as the gifted kid website. shockingly my mental disorders made me mentally disordered and school never really vibed with that so. couldn’t be me

[sinner-as-saint]

Crawling Back To You.

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Run-through: Bucky Barnes had a lot on his plate at the moment. Regrets, fears, nightmares and desperately trying to do the right things to make up for his past as the Winter Soldier. Amongst those things, barely anything made him truly happy, or safe or loved. None did actually - except for you. He met you at a bar once and since then, you’ve been his sanctuary. You both knew he wasn’t quite ready to be in a relationship, yet you were always there with open arms whenever he needed a friend, a shoulder to lean on, or someone to help him take his mind off things. Be it a nightmare, or memories from the past coming to haunt him, or any major or minor inconvenience, the super soldier would find himself turning to you for help. 

Themes: angst, fluff, smut

He woke up on the floor, covered in cold sweat. 

The flashbacks of the nightmares kept resurfacing until it finally faded again. Faded, not truly gone because he knew they’d be back tomorrow again - his past coming to haunt him. He sighed and squinted at the screen in front of him. 

The T.V was on, playing reruns of a show he did not care about. He simply needed the noise to help him fall asleep. The quiet and silence was his own personal hell, so he always needed some sort of background noise to help him out. 

Bucky tried getting some sleep again; tossing and turning on the wooden flooring but he couldn’t fall back asleep. His mind was racing, too many thoughts at once. He checked the time, the clock read 1 a.m. He could go on a run, but he didn’t really feel like it. He could go to the gym, but he didn’t feel like working out either. 

He needed something. An escape, a friend. You, he needed you. 

Bucky reached for his phone, and a few taps later he was calling you. He knew it was late but you somehow always picked up his calls no matter what the time was. The rings later, he heard your voice speak up from the other end. 

“Buck?” You sounded sleepy, but not like he had woken you up, you sounded like you were about to fall asleep. 

He closed his eyes and sighed at the sound of your voice. He could picture you, all tucked in your comfy bed, surrounded by pillows and your soft blankets. Perhaps you had lost track of time because of a good book, or perhaps you were up late responding to emails for work. 

“Hey doll. Did I wake you up?” he asked, leaning back against the wall of his living room, his legs sprawled out on the floor in front of him. Only sometimes did he feel like he was taking advantage of your kindness, but then again he could be selfish when it came to you. You were his, and that’s that. 

You let out a little laugh. “Of course not, Bucky. I was just finishing up some work.” He could hear your sheets shuffling, “Are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?” you asked, softly. 

Bucky told you he did. Then he went on to tell you exactly what he had dreamt of. Sometimes he felt like he was opening up more to you than his shrink. But truth is, you made him feel like he was more than just a broken soldier, or a problem who needed to be remedied or fixed. You made him feel like he was human after all. 

“I… I’m trying to fall back asleep but…” his voice trailed off. He didn’t have to say it, you understood perfectly. He knew you did. 

Then he heard his favorite words coming from you, “Come over Buck, I’m waiting.” 

He wasted no time in getting up from the floor and getting dressed. Dark jeans, shirt, jacket and not to forget his gloves. Sometimes he wondered why he felt so giddy when you asked him to come over, which was almost every night. He wondered what it would be like to come home to you every night instead, had it been a perfect world. He always felt like he was clinging to you too much, for everything. But then you always told him that you didn’t mind. You told him you loved his company. 

He grabbed his helmet before stepping out of his apartment. There was a light drizzle outside but he didn’t care, he just needed to be with you. He got down the stairs and then rushed to start his mean bike and then rushed to your apartment building. You lived in a much nicer part of the city than he did, and he often wondered why you were putting up with someone like him when you could have a man who would give you a life you’ve always dreamt of. He often asked you that, but you always just smiled at him, you never answered. 

On his way up to your floor, he couldn’t help but feel all warm in the elevator. He counted down the seconds till he could see you. He often slept over at your place, he loved it. Cuddling, making love, followed by lazy mornings, him trying to get you to not go to work and spend the day with him instead. He loved how you made him feel. 

He knocked on your door, already taking off his gloves because he needed to feel your skin against his. Your body heat made him feel so much better. He heard you unlocking the door from the other side and not even a second later, he saw your pretty face smiling at him. Dressed in silk PJ shorts and a t-shirt, you looked breathtakingly beautiful even at one thirty in the morning. 

“Hello there,” you greeted him, smirking. “That was fast.” You teased, opening the door wider to let him in. 

He smiled and stepped inside, closing the door behind him and pulling you in for a hug immediately. You felt his slightly damp and cold jacket press against you but you hugged him back tightly anyways. 

“I needed to see you.” He mumbled, pressing his face into your neck. 

“I know.” 

-

You and Bucky ended up in your bed, cuddling under the blankets. He loved the dimmed night light you always had on, knowing that he hated being in complete darkness. He loved how cozy your room was, how spacious and airy but also warm and comfortable. 

The large window by your bed showed a lovely view of the city lights, which were right now blurred by the foggy glass, thanks to the light drizzle earlier. He could tell that the air was cold outside, but in here with you everything was just right. 

He had stripped down to just his boxers and he laid his head on your chest, his face facing away from yours, while you played with his hair and occasionally ran your hand down his back, scratching his skin lightly. His cold metal arm lazily ran up and down your thighs and he noticed the goosebumps on your skin that he was causing. 

He could hear your steady heartbeats and that was his favorite sound in the entire world. It calmed him down. 

You looked down, smiling softly at the sight of the muscular soldier using you as a human pillow. You could hear him let out quiet moans as you gently scratched his scalp. You still remembered the first time you two met, at a bar. 

-

It was late on a winter night, and the nearby bar was rather empty; just a few people here and there. And a certain muscular man in a dark leather jacket caught your eye. He was sitting at the counter, and you were in one of the booths. Eventually, you got up and decided to go talk to him. 

You recognized him immediately. Ex-Winter Soldier, Captain America’s best friend, James Buchanan Barnes.

Small talks turned into a couple more rounds of beers. He was a little off and awkward at first but he loosened up eventually. He even walked you back to your car, not wanting you to be alone in the dark, foggy and empty parking lot. 

That was the first time he kissed you, right before he opened the door of your car for you. 

“Will I see you again?” He asked, high off the adrenaline which coursed through his veins ever since you kissed him back. 

“Of course you will. Good night, James.” You kissed his cheek before getting into your car and driving off. 

-

A smile formed on your face as you thought of that night. “Do you remember the first time we met?” You asked softly. 

Bucky turned his face to you, placing his head back on your chest. He was so close that all you needed to do was to lean in a little to kiss his soft, pink lips. 

He smiled. “Yeah, why?” 

“No reason, I just wanted you to remember it.” 

Bucky chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss on your skin, right above your breasts. “You’ve been awfully quiet. What is it?” 

You just smiled at him, “Nothing. You’ve been awfully quiet too.” And judging by the look in his eyes, you could already tell there was something else to his silence. “What is it?” 

He was quiet. 

Sighing, you flipped the two of you around; straddling his waist while he laid comfortably against your multiple pillows. 

“Buck, tell me.” You pressed your palms against his chest to hold yourself up. 

“Sam needs my help with something. Another bad guy, another mission, another fight. Same old.” He sounded indifferent. 

You couldn’t blame him. He had been fighting for decades, non-stop. He had lost so much while doing so, but he also didn’t know how to deal with the calm, and silence and the quiet. There was so much he needed to figure out about himself still. 

“Do you not wanna go?” 

He smiled faintly as he lazily rubbed up and down your exposed thighs. “It’s my job, I have to. Innocent people will be hurt if I don’t. I want to help them.” 

“Then what’s the issue?” 

“I’ll have to leave you behind for a little while.” He didn’t want to. He didn’t know how to be away from you anymore because he hadn’t been for months now. The thought of not being able to hold you close at night and having your heartbeats lull him to sleep was scary.

You smiled down at him. “I’ll be here when you come back, Bucky.” 

He reached out and cupped your face with his metal hand. “And what if you find someone better while I’m gone?” 

You frowned down at him. “Where does that come from?” 

He gently stroked your cheek. “I’m just saying. You deserve someone a little more… normal.” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Normal is boring, you seem perfectly fine to me.” 

He chuckled. “Why do you put up with me, doll?” It was a rhetorical question, he didn’t expect an answer because he had asked you this countless number of times but you never gave him a reply before. 

However, you did this time. “Because I’m in love with you, James Buchanan Barnes.” You had been meaning to tell him this for a while now. “You don’t have to say it back, I just needed you to know that no one’s ever gonna replace you. I love you.” 

He was a little surprised, his heart raced as he processed everything. How could someone as gentle, kind and beautiful like you fall for someone as broken as him? “Doll… I…” 

You leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You giggled, then pulled away to look at him. “You deserve all the good things in this world, Buck. You deserve to be loved, and cared for. And if you’d let me, I’d love to show you that.” 

You carefully pressed your lips to his, kissing him with all the love you had. His metal hand held you at the back of your neck and the other wrapped around your waist. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss; turning your mind into a foggy mess for a little while before he pulled away and stared deep into your eyes. 

You reached out and gently caressed his face, Bucky leaned into your touch. “I’m gonna miss you.” He mumbled. 

“When do you leave?” You asked. 

“Tomorrow, perhaps.” 

You leaned in for a kiss again, accidentally brushing your crotch against his erection; making him smirk through the kiss as he pulled you even closer. You purposely moved against him while you kissed him again deeply. 

Bucky soon flipped the two of you back around and settled in between your legs, kissing down your neck. “I’m gonna miss making love to you almost every night.” He whispered against your skin. His voice alone sent chills down your back, and made you feel all sorts of warm and tingly feelings inside. 

Bucky movements were gentle and slow as he took your clothes off, making sure you were both under the warm covers still; kissing you occasionally as he undressed you, and caressed your body as you squirmed under him. 

He kissed his way down your body, until his face was right in between your legs. You moaned as he parted your legs and placed a kiss on your inner thigh, pulling your underwear down your legs and kissing his way back to your wet folds. You threw your head back, and bit your lip; whining when you felt his tongue teasing you gently. The warmth of his mouth was driving you insane. 

His tongue gently teased your clit while his fingers slipped inside of you; stroking you gently while you arched your back off the surface of your bed as the pleasure became slightly overwhelming. You whimpered and squirmed under him as his tongue moved perfectly against you.

He had you coming undone all over his tongue and his fingers in no time, and he licked you clean when he was done. Kissing his way up your body again. “I’m gonna miss your taste.” He was shameless enough to whisper it in your ear; making you blush. 

His hands roamed around your body, touching you wherever he could, until he finally cupped your core and rubbed the sensitive skin around your swollen clit – making you shudder under him. You whined as he slipped his metal fingers past your entrance yet again. His head dipped into your neck and he licked and bit around your skin until he found your sweet spot. “And I’m gonna miss your warmth.” 

“Buck…” You moaned quietly as he replaced his fingers with his cock. 

He placed his mouth on top of yours again, to swallow your whimpers and moans as he pushed his cock into you. His breathing got shallow again as he pushed himself fully into you. He lifted his head and watched you grimace in pleasure and pain as his cock stretched you to your maximum. He watched you in awe as your lips parted and you moaned his name once he filled you up nicely. 

You whined as he slowly slipped out of you completely, before slamming back into you with a slightly bigger force. 

He groaned at the feel of your walls wrapped around him, squeezing and clenching around him. You heard him swear and felt him bite down on your lip as he sped up into you. He tugged on your lips and he started moving his hips; rocking into you slowly, then gradually increasing his speed. Your back arched off the surface of the bed again and your chest pressed to his.  

“I’m gonna miss watching you squirm under me…” he whispered, “as I pleasure you like no one ever will.” He moaned into your ear. “You’re mine.” 

You were a moaning mess under him in no time. There was something about the way he kissed you, deeply and passionately; as though he was scared you might just get away from him.

He worshipped your body. He mumbled how good you felt in your ear, groaning as you bucked your hips to meet each one of his thrusts as well. He kissed you roughly as he pounded into you; his metal fingers wrapped around your throat. He fucked you raw and relentlessly, watching how your face morphed into frowns of pleasure. 

He pressed his forehead on yours; looking down to where your bodies connected so intimately. Then he pulled away to look into your eyes with that animalistic, primal and fiery look in his eyes. His lips parted as he panted while he fucked you like he owned you.

“You’re gonna miss me too aren’t you, doll?” 

You nodded, whining in pleasure. He smirked. His hand left your neck and slid in between your connected bodies and furiously rubbed your clit, earning a loud moan out of you. “Say it, baby. Tell me how much you’re gonna miss my cock buried deep inside you…” 

You couldn’t talk as the pressure in between your legs became too much to handle, and you craved for release. He noticed and slipped his tongue back into your mouth one last time and took your bottom lip between his teeth again.

“Come on, cum for me… doll,” he swore as he felt you clench around him perfectly. You came hard around him, moaning and whimpering under him as he finished right after you; kissing your swollen lips deeply as he came.

He pushed his face into the crook of your neck as he caught his breath. And you cradled his head; panting as well. Your fingers gently massaged his scalp as he calmed his racing heart. A few moments later, he shifted all his weight right on top of you making you laugh as you tried to scoot out from under him. 

He groaned and pulled you closer. “Come here.” He pressed you against his body and wrapped his arms around. “I love you too, doll. So much.” 

You buried your face into his chest, inhaling his scent. “I’m gonna miss you. All of you.” You lifted your head up to look at him smiling down at you. “Come back fast.” 

He chuckled. “You know I will. No matter where I go, I’ll always come crawling back to you.”

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 38

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers

The pale cheek was rubbery and cold under your finger. You poked it again. "Are you sure he's dead?" 

Loki looked at the severed, and a little chewed, bottom half of the ambassador. "Pretty much."

The body had been laid out on top of a desk, with all the books and documents previously occupying it put on the ground. It didn't really matter in the ways of making things messy, because the suite belonging to the recently deceased ambassador was already a dusty, chaotic mess. The room was dark and narrow and made even smaller by the bookshelves lined along one wall, stealing even more space. The carpet used to be gold and thick, but now it looked just worn and tired. 

"Do we even have a plan? Like, anything in particular to look out for?" 

Loki scratched his chin, looking around next to you. "Plans are for the weak of heart. We've got something better, love—a suspicion. Now we only have to find the evidence for or against it." 

You looked at the shelves filled with old tomes to the point of almost breaking the wood. And then at the loose papers piled carelessly along two of the walls and also in the bedroom. The notes were haphazardly scribbled and left in places where a thought must've struck the man, and then left forgotten or lost. Ink was spilled on the less fortunate ones. 

"...right."

You couldn't say you were happy about it, but there was little to do about it. Whatever the ambassador was working on before he died could shed some light on his death. Now you only had to find it. 

With a deep sigh, you braced yourself and got to work. 

It soon turned out you didn’t understand a single word of it. 

"You said your spell would work and I would understand everything." You focused really hard on the wall of text in a language you'd never seen before. "And it works fine when I'm talking to the lords here, but not on this." 

Loki leaned over your shoulder to peek a glance at the text. "I have no idea. Maybe it works differently on humans? Or maybe you're just a particularly weird individual of your species." 

"Thanks." 

"Welcome, love." 

With nothing you could read, your job there was crippled. Even when Loki assured you he didn't mind doing everything himself and that it wasn't your fault, there was still a sour feeling you couldn't quite shake off. 

"I'm going to see if I can find the kitchens and get us something edible." You decided to pass the time on something at least vaguely helpful. 

Loki looked up from the notes he'd gathered from the windowsill. He’d made himself comfortable in one of the cleaner parts of the room, although unfortunately it just happened to be near the corpse. "Be careful. And please, don't kill anyone without me." 

"I'd never," you promised with a wink and left. 

The castle was huge, but empty. At first, you put in on the murder that must've shaken the people living there, but the longer you looked around, it struck you as odd. Everything was clean, even if touched by time. There must be people taking care of it, but you couldn't find any. 

Or maybe they were avoiding the outsiders. Technically, you were an alien here. 

You walked the empty corridors, enjoying the silent breeze passing through the open panels. It was strange not to see any glass in the windows, but with the weather so mild, there probably wasn't any temperature drop to worry about anyway. 

There were shadows sneaking in the corners of your vision. They could be figments of your imagination and sense of wrongness of this place. They could be the things howling in the dark. 

No. Thinking about that probably wasn't the wisest idea. In a place where thoughts apparently could shape reality, thinking merry, happy thoughts seemed like a much more rational option if one planned to survive and not be eaten by their own fears embodied. You had such plans, and even if Loki was convinced that you had absolutely no connection to magic unless it hit you in the face, it was better to stay cautious. And happy. What a lovely day it was, after all, with the creeping light avoiding particular parts of your vision, and something definitely following you. How nice would it be to meet someone. Anyone. 

Your eyes wandered off into the gardens below, where the everlasting night was laying thick. A fountain shimmered in bluish speckles of water. And behind it, the night opened its eyes. 

You might've jumped a little. Just the tiniest bit. 

But there was no denying that, just for the briefest moment, your eyes met the Queen's, posed unnaturally still among the statues. 

…and people said wishful thinking wouldn't get you anywhere. 

You hopped over the railing, and onto the moss-covered ground. The guard you'd seen before was nowhere to be found. You stared around as hard as you could, trying to pierce the shadows and strange light. It took a moment to find what you were looking for. 

From up close, the stars overhead and the stars shimmering on her skin looked like mirror images. For a moment, the night sky felt within a hand's reach. 

Not one muscle betrayed the Queen had she noticed your arrival. Her eyes were dull and completely blank—to the point where you wondered if you hadn't imagined everything. 

You stood right next to her and still weren't decapitated, which was a comfort and a good sign. You bowed stiffly, even if she didn't see it. 

"Hi," you said quietly, looking for any sign of comprehension. "I'm one of the people who came here to explain the recent murder." 

Nothing. Just the vast expanse of the night enclosed in a fading body and crumbled into a vaguely humanoid shape. The Queen only had one horn intact, white as a bone, and sharp like the crescent moon—the only one to ever be seen on the edge of the universe. 

"I wondered if you knew anything about it," you tried again. "We're doing well so far, and I'm sure we'll find the murderer eventually, so don't worry about that, but… We'd still appreciate any and all help." 

Birds chirped somewhere in the trees. Shimmering pollen flew on the light breeze squeezing through the thicket. The night turned her eyes toward you. 

It'd been a while since you cowered under the sheets, afraid of the darkness. It was a common fear among children, and one that only a few grew out of. Those eyes reminded you of those sleepless nights. 

Not a word left the bloodless lips. Not a muscle twitched. The edges of the woman blurred into the night. 

"...right. Sorry to interrupt you, Your Majesty." 

You backed away a few steps before turning your back to her. A shiver ran down your spine. If that was what fading was, you preferred death. 

*

Loki enjoyed reading, he really did. Even as a child, he'd often been found buried among the old tomes in the palace's library, or smuggling particularly interesting ones to his rooms. There was something in the way of the written word that captured his attention way better than whatever training he was forced to participate in for the sake of Odin's misplaced ambition. There was a certain rush in learning facts previously unknown and in understanding the world or the forces in it better. 

Loki felt absolutely none of that while going through the ambassador's notes. 

Most of them were full of incomprehensible babble of half-finished ideas or references that led nowhere without the books they'd been taken from. Some seemed to be copied pages, which led Loki to the conclusion that the books were not to be taken off the library grounds. 

There were a lot of dates and numbers that made little sense to him, so he put them down on the pile of things he deemed irrelevant to the investigation. The pile was growing and now consisted of several piles, forming the majority of the room's contents. 

The doors opened. Loki was relieved to see you; the dagger disappeared back up his sleeve. 

"That took you awhile," he noticed, throwing the crumbled papers to the right, onto the pile of nonsense. "I was getting worried." 

"I'm good. I got you some apples." 

The apples were a dusted orange, but tasted sweet enough to justify the unusual color. Loki leaned back in his chair and let you settle on his lap. The feeling of your body pressed into his made you share the warmth and comfort, and made some of the stress building up since morning fade away. 

"I met the Queen," you said around a mouth full of apple, and the other hand buried in Loki's hair. "She seemed nice enough. The creepiness definitely runs in the family, though." 

Some of the stress came back. "Did she… say anything?"

"Nope. I don't think she’s… aware of things. Which is a shame, because I seriously hoped she could help us." 

Loki brushed your back in wide, soothing strokes. "There is a chance she'll regain her senses one day, just for long enough to answer some questions. Fading is a complicated process." 

"You know a lot about it." 

Loki's eyes dropped to the few remaining apples. "Gods fade too sometimes." 

"Will you? One day?" 

"I am a Frost Giant, love, even if I was raised on Asgard. I'm not sure how much that complicates my case, and there is no one to ask about it anymore." 

"I'm sorry." 

Loki closed his eyes and breathed in your scent as he felt you kiss his temple, gently and with enough unfiltered love to make his heart throb almost painfully. He was lucky, even despite the mess politics brought onto him. He was luckier than he ever thought he'd be. And luckier than he thought he deserved. 

"Did you find anything interesting?" you asked with a face burrowed into the crook of his neck. 

"There was quite a lot of nonsense, but the rest highlights the ambassador's interest in the wars and mass deaths that always follow them." 

You froze. The corpse laid on the desk next to you no longer felt like something you could forget about. "...what an interesting guy. "

"Most definitely, but it's too early to judge just yet. I made a list of the books he mentioned most often. I think it'd be worth our time to pay a visit to the library to check them out and maybe ask a few questions to the people working there. They should know something about him and the dead assistant."

"We could get some more apples on our way," you offered, standing up. Loki already missed you. 

"Sure, why not. It's not like you'd take the fruit of the sacred trees from the very clearly separated part of the gardens, right?" 

"...of course. I'd never overlook that." 

You did overlook that in the end, and Loki just happened to overlook it too. Overlooking things was always more fun in good company. 

The gardens were a beautiful, lush place, bursting with colors and leaves that danced on the wind instead of falling. Some of the branches were covered in flowers so tiny they looked like ants, traveling up and down the bark. Birds too shy to leave the shadows chirped and sung. 

It was a strange change to witness, especially having in mind what the gardens were like in the morning. Whatever put them in a good mood had clearly done a good job. It made the winding paths easier to follow, and the water passing through the fountain shimmer like starlight. 

Loki shrugged when you voiced your thoughts. 

"In your world, the weather changes just as rapidly," he said, looking at his mirrored image. "Here, it's the very essence of the Edge that's capable of changing." 

It was poetic, like most things on the Edge. And just like them, the forest suddenly decided to hate you. 

First, the birds vanished, their voices cut short. 

Then, something else moved between the curled, twisted trees. Loki noticed too, and handed you one of his knives. The knives had a habit of appearing around him in just the right moments, and you loved them for it. 

And finally, the Edge decided how to make your lives difficult this time. 

The monstrosity that circled the fountain was a terror of thin legs and bulky torso, armed with too many teeth.

"Is it a spider?" you asked in a voice too high because of your heart leaping into your throat. 

"It could be, if someone really hated spiders," Loki said, but there was a smile on his face. "And it might present a problem, if we were still on Earth—but now I'm free and ready to deal with this the old-fashioned way." 

You blinked when golden light enveloped him in a flash. The green armor poured onto his body while magic danced around his fingers. The golden helmet you'd seen only once in the battle of New York, now returned in its full glory. 

You cheered as Loki stepped out, swinging a spear with a nonchalant ease only available to children forced to learn something for years against their will. 

"Kick its ass, babe!" 

Loki winked. 

The creature didn't want to have its ass kicked. It charged on its eight legs reaching far and fast. Loki striked, gutting its belly and cutting two legs off. It should've died, but it didn't. The cuts should've killed it, but they healed. 

Loki's magic should've blocked the furious mass hurtling itself at him. It didn't. 

The spell flashed a blinding yellow before it cracked like glass and shattered. The legs that were no longer cut, they hit and didn't miss. 

A gold-and-green body flew through the air with a very surprised face. The fountain crashed in a rain of water and marble, covering everything in a thin layer of dust and a thick one of mud quickly forming under your feet. 

"...Loki?"

Loki didn't answer, half buried under the stone. 

The spider turned its too big head to you. Its legs were black and covered in thick stubble. 

"Shit," you whispered. 

The spider agreed. 

You ran. 

[aerugonian]

what are some of your fav kakashi centric fics?? ive never been too into naruto but kakashi??? i love him

You’re in luck because the only Naruto fics I read are Kakashi-centric, lmao. Here are some of my favorites (strap in because this is gonna be long – and I hope you like time travel, because there’s a lot of that here.) Fics are listed in no particular order. 

Just the Usual Habits by Applepie (G / gen / 3.9k words / completed / no warnings)

Sakumo has no idea where all of these habits of Kakashi's are coming from. In which five-year-old Kakashi forgets the existence of his left eye, loses his ability to lie believably, and is a little too knowledgeable about the Birds and Bees. Still, no matter what oddities went on in Kakashi's head, one thing is certain – the boy will always love his father, through thick and thin.

Nukenin by WhisperingDarkness (T / gen / 17k words / completed / no warnings)

In the sealed scroll he finds a Bingo Book – his own page marking him as an S-class nukenin with flee-on-sight orders.

“Ok. That is definitely different.”

In his head he blames Naruto – even if his number one unpredictable student had been nowhere near him on this mission. When things go this stupidly impossibly wrong it must somehow be the future Hokage’s fault.

Once More with Feeling by Chicken_Train_And_Laser_Beam (M / gen / 137k words / wip / violence)

After an unexpected turn on a mission with Team Seven, Kakashi Hatake wakes up in the past, trapped in the body of his thirteen-year-old self. Despite being torn away from his own, familiar world, Kakashi resolves to change the future to better the lives of those he loves. Yet, fate is not so easily mastered, and he's not the only one playing the game.

Reversal of Roles by Ranowa Hikura (T / gen / 112,510 words / completed / violence)

Obito didn't push Kakashi out of the way during the Battle at Kannabi Bridge. This one change eventually leads to Godaime Naruto being sent back in time with the leader of the Akatsuki- Kakashi. They arrive at the day of Naruto's Academy graduation, and Naruto must work with the man he hates the most to stop war from happening. Time travel, AU, Kakanaru friendship.

Branches by Mockingone (T / gen / 55k words / completed / no warnings)

Kakashi falls off a tree and lands in a different world. Literally. Now he's in a dimension where nothing makes sense—but he's used to that. Kakashi plans to wreak as much havoc as he can and find his way home... if he can.

What You Knead by AgentMalkere (G / gen / 38k words / wip / no warnings)

It started, as most things did in Kakashi’s life, with a mission gone wrong.

(In which Kakashi accidentally acquires an emotionally healthy coping technique.)

Ear to the Wall by Vodkassassin (NR / gen / 84k words / wip / chose not to warn)

The Minato-sensei beams at him, and replies, “Kakashi! I’m glad you’re awake,” and, yup, that’s Minato-sensei’s voice.

Kakashi falls back down against the bed, closing his eyes. It’s too short of a way down, and he clenches hands that are too tiny and feeble and not his in dog-print sheets he hasn’t owned for decades.

Wolves of Fire Country by Midnite_Republic (T / Kakashi/Izuna / 51k words / wip / chose not to warn)

Wave changed a lot about Team 7, but not enough to make them entirely functional. Also someone should have really reminded Kakashi to pay attention to that tiny part of his genius brain that recognises random patterns, before he called a rest stop on the way home on top of an old, decayed Uzushio travel seal with an over-chakra-charged Uzumaki.

And he thought the month of the Wave mission was long, now he's stuck with the team, in a place he never expected to have anything to do with, with no way back.

Maybe he should have paid more attention to history, or stayed in the academy long enough to have history classes.

Why we build the wall by Dissenter (NR / gen / 49k words / wip / mcd & violence)

A Kiri nin gets trapped in a cave with a Konoha nin near Kannabi bridge. Some things are inevitable.

Or the AU where Kakashi is born in Kiri but still somehow ends up as team seven's teacher.

Outrunning Karma by Anjelle (T / gen / 52k words / wip / no warnings)

Kakashi was forty-two and the world ended in a sea of smoke and ash. Kakashi was forty-two and there stood a man in the carnage, untouched and unfazed as the village burned around him.

Kakashi is nineteen and the world ends tomorrow, and he will do everything he can to make it right. Even if it means making friends of his enemies. Even if it means erasing everything.

Even if it means staring into the face of all that he hates and smiling.

Kakashi is nineteen and Naruto is five and there is still time. Instead of counting his losses, he'll make the most of it.

komorebi by tomorrowsrain (T / Kakashi/Obito / 80k words / wip / no warnings)

In which Kakashi and Obito survive the Kyuubi attack, get exiled from Konoha, learn how to survive, and still manage to become legends along the way.

(The bratty genin are unexpected, though.)

The Hidden Prodigy by Applepie (T / gen / 106k words / wip / chose not to warn)

Somehow sent back into the past, Kakashi is given a second chance to relive his childhood. He is determined to make the most of everyday and to fix the horrors of the future, but sometimes simple determination is not enough to save everyone.

Change Fills My Time by 100demons (M / gen / 73k words / completed / mcd & violence)

Thirty year old Kakashi was supposed to have been killed by Pein during the Invasion. Instead, he wakes up in the body of his twenty year old self.

(It gets a lot more complicated.)

Nidaime Otokage by DuskBeforeDawn (M / gen / 30k words / wip / violence)

No one knew him.

His father was still alive.

His Sharingan acted like it had always been his.

Kakashi was twenty-two years in the past of a different world.

a heap of details, uncatalogued, illogical by 100demons (T / gen / 8k words / completed / no warnings)

Oh,” she says, white hands clenched into tight fists. “I’m-- I was your student. Haruno Sakura.”

Kakashi tilts his head, gray eye analyzing her carefully for tells. He finds nothing. “I’ve never seen you before in my life,” he says flatly.

(Kakashi wakes up fourteen years old.)

Lost on the road of life by RavenShira (M / gen / 80k words / wip / violence)

Kakashi had everything well in hand. He had stepped down from his reign as Rokudaime Hokage, his porn collection was as well worn as should be and his free time was spend with either Gai's challenges or helping out on various tasks while trying to make it seem like he wasn't there to help out. Annoying the hell out of everyone that crosses his path was as easy as breathing – easier now that he didn't have to be polite and diplomatic about it anymore.

So what if he agreed to a teeny-tiny favour of his once student and now successor? Not even Naruto could mess up just scribbling down a fuinjutsu for Kakashi to check over before he got back to his own, very busy life.

… Right?

Or: The one where Kakashi travels back in time, thinks he can fix stuff but clearly gets in over his head.

What’s the Worst That Can Happen? by Applepie (T / gen / 90k words / wip / no warnings)

Life was going quite well, if you asked Naruto Uzumaki. So why did he have to listen to Kakashi of all people? Now, they've time traveled to the past, smack dab in Minato's era, when the soon-to-be Hokage was sporting a team seven of his own. Let history run its course? Never! Kakashi-centric.

Wanted by Anjelle (T / gen / 17k words / wip / no warnings)

Kakashi is your run-of-the-mill hand for hire, except that he's not. Boasting a spotless record with the skills and name to back it up, he's one of the most highly sought after mercenaries in the Land of Fire. He has just one rule:

No Leaf missions.

Unfortunately, his latest client, Tobi, is looking for just that. And there's no doubt in Tobi's mind that Kakashi will accept.

It's only a matter of time.

-

-

 (and a bonus crossover section!!)

Silver-Haired Stranger by TheSimplestWriter (T / gen / 34k words / wip / violence / ATLA)

Kakashi dies protecting his village fighting against Pein... Except he actually didn't and is now in the middle of a desert. Great. [Kakashi swaps one war for another, but he only wants to get back home. Things happen along the way.]

Copy That, Copycat by Nakashira (G / gen / 19k words / wip / violence / BNHA)

Kakashi Hatake dies the Copycat-nin and is reborn with a copycat quirk.

Everything becomes a disaster, and Monoma is tired.

Wonderboy by Tsume_Yuki (T / gen / 19k words / wip / chose not to warn / BNHA)

Who knew some dimensions had actual child labour laws?

In which Kakashi is reborn, the Hero Commission doesn’t put all their eggs in one Hawks shaped basket and Shouta isn't getting paid enough to deal with this shit.

Otherwise known as Kakashi in 1A.

CCG Public Enemy No 1 by euphoric image (T / gen / 19k words / wip / no warnings / Tokyo Ghoul)

Kakashi had a single red-and-black eye for more than half his life. Now, he has two.

Victory Series by ewfte (T / gen / 96k words / wip / violence / BNHA)

A fact about Todoroki Shouto: that is not his name.

[itsmattsunshinehere]

Hello!! I was wondering if you could do a scenario with matsukawa and a shy reader? They get paired up for a project and matsukawa has never spoken to her bc she’s always quiet but as he gets to know her, he finds out she’s actually really funny bc she sends memes and they eventually fall in love 🤧 abit cliche but I’d love it 👉🏼👈🏼

Of course I can! I love Mattsun, so I’m always happy to write something with my sweet angel :)

I didn’t know how to put memes so there aren’t any BUT actually there are some nerdy jokes (wich I adore), like really really bad jokes. I kinda have the feeling Matsukawa only know these lmao, he’s dumb (BUT WE LOVE HIM). I hope it’s okay for you, please don’t hate me.

Thanks for your request, hope you like it! 😘💘

-L

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

A Change of Heart.

Matsukawa Issei x reader

synopsis: Matsukawa has never spoken to you, but something changes after you two being paired together for a school project.

word count: 2.1 K

tags: fluff

~~~

Matsukawa Issei. Of all the possible people, he was the last of your classmates you thought you could be paired with for group project. You don't have any problems with him, you don't find him annoying or anything else, it’s just that sometimes you forget about the presence of some of your classmates, Matsukawa included: you are a shy girl and you almost never talk during lessons; you often get distracted thinking about your own business, it is normal for you to not notice the people you don’t talk to, even more if they tend to be as quite as you.

On his side, even Issei hasn’t noticed you, too busy sleeping a few desks away from you: the night before he went to bed late, staying up until one o'clock only to play computer games with some friends.

Anyway, he's your science project partner and you can't do anything about it, even if you prefer to work alone and organize everything to your liking all by yourself, you'll have to collaborate with him and as you, even the guy agrees that for the sake of your GPA it will be essential to try to get along and cooperate. That's why at the end of the class, before your math teacher arrives, your project partner comes to your desk.

"Good morning Matsukawa-san." You greet him shyly, his height puts you slightly in awe, you’ve never noticed how tall he actually is.

"’Morning Y/N-san, apparently we are project companions." He replies to you yawning a little distracted, without looking too sure on what he’s saying; you get the impression that he would like to have been paired with someone else, probably one of his friends, but you try not to pay too much attention to your thoughts.

"Yes, that's correct." You nod looking at him again with a patient smile on your lips.

"I thought that maybe we could exchange our phone numbers to organize on what to do and when to see each other." The boy still keeps his eyes away from yours not looking at you but rather looking up at two of your classmates who are throwing a ball just a few feet from you. You smile at him once more and take your agenda, ripping off a sheet, and after writing some numbers, you give it to him.

"Here to you, I am almost always free every afternoon after six. How about starting in two days, maybe this Wednesday? Is it okay for you?" you ask him, and after thinking about it for a few minutes, as if he were consulting his own agenda mentally, the boy in front of you nods and after greeting you, he turns back to his desk.

You didn't think there were people quieter than you. Or maybe he thinks you’re boring. But what could you have done to him to make you so annoying? You put aside your bad thoughts and focus on the rest of the lessons, more concerned about your grades than the idea that your partner has of you. Of course, sometimes you tend to have no self-esteem, not trusting you’re decisions, but having never spoken to him, he has no reason to hate you, so you don't worry too much about what he might think of you.

But while you don't care about his thoughts, Issei can't say the same for himself: he's curious about what kind of girl you are, what a hobby you have... Why are you only free after six?? Are you in any club? Would you like to go to college? Are you moving to Tokyo next year as most of your classmates? He'd like to ask you so many questions, you intrigue him in a certain way, and he can't deny that you're a pretty girl. He finds adorable how you carry the pencil on your lips every time you stare at the sky out the window.

The two days pass fast, and from Monday you are almost immediately to Wednesday afternoon in the library, you waiting for him at the table on the corner and he who has to run because, due to Oikawa and his obsession with improving the whole team’s service, he is definitely late. The boy looks out the door of the room and rushes you to a table near the windows, listening to music with headphones in your ears and studying some subject. He joins you, slowing down the pace trying not to make any noise.

"Y/N-san." He calls you whispering, but you don't hear him, which is why he tries to get your attention by touching your arm as he sits by your side and you gasp surprised, causing him to giggle.

"I'm sorry if I scared you." You look at the boy with a gentle smile, moving your hand and telling him that he doesn’t have to worry.

“It's nothing, I was doing chemistry homework for tomorrow, but I can't calculate the reaction and find the name of this binary salt.” You say giving up your homework, changing the page of the book and taking the section assigned to you for your work.

"You know chemists are great solving problems? They have all the solutions." Matsukawa replay with a smile, taking your notebook and looking at what you've written.

"I tried telling a chemistry joke once, but I got no reaction." You watch the boy with a grin as Matsukawa lifts his head up surprised, definitely not expecting a joke from you, but you instead look at him laughing at his expression and Matsukawa gives you a sincere smile chuckling.

Time passes quickly as you organize your project and decide what and how to expose it to your classmates. You divide your work and begin your research together, each one giving his own contribution to the other, to try to make it better and giving a sense to what you are doing. When you look at the phone you realize that it is now seven and a half o'clock in the evening and you inform your project partner, who nods and you two begin to pick up your books. Matsukawa is faster than you, so waits for you at the library entrance.

"Y/N-san, I wanted to ask you a question." He tells you while he’s walking by your side, and you can't help but think about how many centimeters there are between you two. You nod kindly with your head.

"How come you never talk? You're funny." He asks you a little hesitantly, and you think for a second about what to answer. You don't know that either, it's not that you don't have any friends, it’s just that you're not the kind of person who starts a conversation. You have no problem talking to others, you just don't like to take the first step.

"Sorry, maybe I was too rude." Matsukawa says softly, worried that he has maybe offended you in some way, but you shake your head with a smile, trying to make him understand that he didn't do anything wrong.

"No don't worry. I can't give you an answer, I think it's just my character. I'm a very shy girl and I tend to stand all by myself, but I've never had a problem talking to people. Once I know someone, I have no problem opening up." you answer him by giving him yet another smile of the day.

Matsukawa looks at you as you walk past him and reach the school gate: part of him that morning had been convinced that he would be bored with you, he felt like you were a serious person, unable to make jokes or something similar. Yet you have happily surprised him, showing a side of your character that you keep secret and that maybe you only show to your closest friends. He feels a bit special.

You reach the gate and you greet him by according to meet at Friday at the same time and so on the following Monday, ending up meeting on those three days every week throughout the entire month, in the library at six in the afternoon.

It has become a habit for you, as well as exchanging messages, during lessons or in your free time. You start spending more and more time together, on lunch breaks you join Matsukawa with his friends in the school canteen, having fun joking with Hanamaki. Matsukawa feels that something has changed. He understands that he has started looking at you differently, seeing you always beautiful and always happy. He understands it from how he has started to notice details on your face; that little mole on your chin, how you tie your hair when you're focused on some math exercise.

A change in his heart.

He starts to think that yours are no longer just moments where you study, but that they are slowly evolving into something more intimate, much more like dating, where you joke and talk about anything. As you tell him how you would like to travel the world, he tells you about the few places he has visited abroad; while you talk to him about the reading club you're a part of, he tells you about his passion for volleyball and his dream of going to the Nationals tournament with his team. You unravel your secrets to each other, without fear, fully trusting each other.

Until one day, when Iwaizumi seeing him smiling atone of your message suggests him something, a particular idea that remains stuck in his head for days.

"You should ask her out." The ace tells him with conviction and the middle blocker looks at him doubtful, not too convinced that you may be interested in dating him.

"Definitely, you can’t take your eyes off her and you're always distracted. Push your pride aside and make the first move before someone takes her away from you." Hanamaki speaks by sitting on the bench next to him and taking a sip from his water bottle. Matsukawa bursts into laughter, though he can't deny that a certain annoying feeling has awakened in him. Maybe jealousy? Impossible, unless...?

The days pass and the date of the presentation of your project approaches, until you arrive at the last Friday before you have to expose your work in front of the whole class, Iwaizumi's words have not yet disappeared from Issei’s mind, as well as those of Hanamaki. What if someone realizes what a beautiful person you are and asks you out? Maybe he should make a move, or maybe they just told him to annoy him... he walks through the corridors until you reach the library that you have been frequented for just over a month. He sees you sitted in your usual place with the usual headphones in your ears and the usual chemistry notebook under your eyes.

He comes near you, moving the chair next to you and sitting to your right and you as always don't even notice him, too caught up in what you're doing. He touches your arm and as always you gasp, quickly turning towards him, while Matsukawa giggles for your reaction. You tongue out and punch him on his shoulder.

"You know you scare my Issei!" you scold him while once again the boy next to you takes your notebook and looks at what's wrong with your equations, remembering when few minutes before you text him that you couldn't do anything.

"Here you go. You miscalculated." Matsukawa answers by giving you back your notebook.

"Forget hydrogen, you're my number one element!" you smile him while he giggles a bit.

"Oh, it's that time of the day where we tell each other stupid chemistry jokes?" he asks you chuckling and you nod happily.

"Well I hope you love science, because tonight we are going to have a chemical reaction." The boy immediately answers you and you can't hold back a laugh, getting the attention of the last remaining students that like you are study and the librarian, who throws you glances from behind her desk. Embarrassed, you apologize and look over Matsukawa, while the boy has a sip of water.

"How about you ask me out first?" you whisper him, blushing instantly, and the boy almost chokes with water and begins coughing, while you try to help him, this time you're the one giggling for the other’s reaction.

Once calmed down, Matsukawa looks up at you, as red as you. Did you really say that? He tries to think of what to answer quickly, not wanting to waste the opportunity.

"There’s a Cafe where they make delicious pancakes." He proposes you embarrassed and you look at him happy, beginning to pick up your books under Matsukawa's eye.

"It’d be amazing." You stand up slowly, sticking your hand out with a smile. Matsukawa copies your movements and gets up taking his backpack. He squeezes your hand with a wink.

“Let’s go.”

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 43: Grimoire

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Forty-Three: Grimoire

Note: And here’s me, genuinely unable to remember if Vergil gave V his book back and what chapter that could have happened in. I’m certain he has, but fuck, really that bothers me. Not even joking. It was so many chapters ago. So many months… 

(-~-)

 One day later…

Thick sheets of ice shattered underfoot like faulty glass, sending a slurry comprised of semi-melted ice and slushy snow jetting out in all directions. The temporary surface slid slightly, but due to the height of the surrounding snow, didn’t migrate very far and was still able to be walked upon if done so carefully.

It had stormed in the short time that they had spent away, leaving the entirety of Redgrave and its surrounding municipalities covered under a moderately thick blanket of powdery-white snow. But today was different. The snow had gone from heavy clumps stuck together by the moisture in the air to soft flurry barely noticeable to casual passers-by, and the sky had gone from an overcast gray to something substantially darker, the foreboding clouds admittedly daunting to take in.

More than one storm was brewing just over the horizon, and no one present was sure what to make of it. They knew that they were not ready for what was to come, but now was the time to prepare for it, nonetheless. Underestimating their opponent would gain them no favors, and as a result, they could only do their best to over-prepare for the unexpected. Simply waiting and hoping for the best was out of the cards, at least in most respects.

Having left just after Aluta’s unfortunate diagnosis of V’s newly contracted ailment, Vergil had yet to return. Not a soul knew of his whereabouts, and several possibilities were tossed about amongst everyone aware of his sudden departure, but in regards to concrete proof? Well, everything was still up in the air. It had only been a day so far, but it had still been somewhat jarring when everyone had prepared to leave and they were one descendant of Sparda short of a complete set. Where had he gone at a time like this, and what was keeping him.

But knowing full well that simply sitting idly by and awaiting his return would do them little good when they could be using that time to do something more meaningful, they had opted to return home at the time that they had originally scheduled, unsure as to what else they could do in a situation like that. Vergil knew his way home. They would simply have to wait to see what happened. And while they waited to see what the outcome of his unscheduled trip was, they would prepare themselves in any and any way that they could.

Standing in front of the front steps to his home, V wrapped his arms around himself and took a few deep breaths, exhaling slowly and allowing the chilled air to cool his lungs. He shivered, feeling a chill crawl up his spine as he exhaled again and watched the frost blow from his mouth. Despite everything he had been through in it, there was still something he found relaxing about the sight of snow; something primal within him that awakened at the slightest touch of the frozen water molecules. His muscles didn’t agree with his mind in this regard, but he still enjoyed it in spite of that. But that time had now passed, at least for the foreseeable future. He had been warned to stay within the confines of his home for reasons that he was told would make more sense to him once he returned. And now that he was back, he was willing to believe that Aluta might have been onto something.

Flora nodded in approval as she looked at the snow-draped building, watching as a large ice sickle dropped from one of the overhanging windows above and crashed into the ground, shattering like a thousand broken dreams. She turned as he approached, her long white coat trailing against the ground as she did so. Her long black hair had been placed into two loops, hanging from the lower portion of either side of her head. She popped her gum as she tucked her hands into her pockets, a strange flavor that V was certain he’d never heard of before just by looking at the color of the bubbles it made. After all, how often did someone chew black gum?

“What flavor is that?” He asked

“The gum? Oh, it’s black licorice. A favorite of mine. I’m told that makes me quite the outlier. Can’t say that I mind, though.” She shrugged nebulously, stepping out of the way as he unlocked the door and opened it. He then stepped to the side and allowed her to pass him, sure that she probably wanted to get out of the cold just as much as he did. “Care to try it?”

 V hadn’t exactly brought any luggage with him. It was just an overnight trip, and more pressing obstacles had stood in the way of more trivial things like reading. All he really had with him was a change of clothes, and nothing more. Well, aside from his book, but that didn’t count. It never left his side, even when he didn’t make the fact that he had it known to anyone else.

He shook his head politely, declining her generous offer. “I appreciate the offer, but no thank you. I like the tea quite a bit, but aside from that… Well, I’m afraid not.“

She nodded, shrugging in polite indifference. In truth, that was the answer she was expecting. After all, it was the one she normally received when she offered someone some of her favorite candy. It was genuinely amazing to her that licorice companies stayed in business with the number of people that she’s met who hated it with a passion. Where did the demand come from?

“Fine by me. I get that. Most people besides me don't seem to like it much. Guess it’s a matter of taste” She said, popping the gum again. She unwrapped another stick, pausing for a moment to add it to her mouth. She then continued to chew, stopping only when she was forced to migrate the gum to one of the sides of her mouth in order to speak. “ I’ve never actually had the tea. Didn’t know that it was even a thing.” 

“Yea, you're probably right about that. I don’t think I know anybody that likes that stuff now that you mention it.”

Both V and Flora turned to watch as Nico approached them from around the corner. Having just stashed the van in the garage, she was now ready to join them inside of the house where it was presumably warm and not snowing. In truth, she was willing to take at least one of those things. Anything was better than freezing to death in the snow outside of V’s front door. She liked to look at it, and she didn’t mind going out in it, but in this outfit? No way, she was going to catch her death out there.

Smiling, Flora motioned for Nico to follow them inside and stepped across the threshold, brushing off her coat as she did so. As soon as Nico scampered through the doorway, V closed it and leaned his cane against the entryway wall before heading into the living room and immediately over towards the fireplace. There had to be some way to light it. There was fuel in it, after all.

Noticing her newfound companion’s plight, Flora headed over to watch, noting that he seemed to be looking around for something to light it with. She waited for a short while, not wanting to step on his toes in regards to something so simple, but admittedly growing colder and colder by the minute. It was something that she could remedy easily enough, but not something that she wanted to attempt in someone else’s house. She didn’t sense any notable traces of magic in this house, so that meant that there were no protective wards in place to protect it from fires. Well, at least for the time being.

Realizing that there wasn’t anything he could use to light the fire, he turned towards the young Ludwig girl, catching on to the fact that she was quietly offering her assistance simply by being there. He shrugged slightly, clearly unsure as to what she could do, but willing to take any help that she could offer him at this point. The nearest store had been burned down during his run-in with Belial, and he was admittedly still a little unsure as to whether or not he wanted to go shopping again anytime soon.

“Could you assist me with this, please? I have a hunch that you might be able to.”

A sneaky smile spread across her lips as she nodded and stepped forward, rubbing her hands together. She seemed to concentrate carefully on what she was doing before pointing her left palm towards the wood that had been added to the fireplace. She got in close and placed her hand on the log, whispering something for a moment before a small spark became a vibrant flame and she ignited the wood, allowing the fireplace to finally serve its purpose.

V nodded in approval, admittedly impressed and grateful to finally be able to warm himself by the fire. He would have to ask her how she did that, or at least purchase a fireplace lighter before she left. Something told him that he couldn’t just do what she had done. It didn’t look particularly easy when she had done it.

Upon realizing that she didn’t have to suffer in the cold hallway any longer, Nico came over and flopped down on the floor in front of the fire, clearly grateful for its rejuvenating warmth. She closed her eyes and laid down, forming a sort of snow angel on the wooden floor. Nico then pointed up towards Flora as she sat up again, nodding in dramatic approval. It wasn’t every day that you saw something like that.

“Sirrus did something like that once, but it was with some kinda black fire. It was pretty cool, not gonna lie.” Nico shook her head, seemingly still in disbelief that she was surrounded by so many extraordinary people. Her life had been so normal just a year or so ago. Well, as normal as it could have been considering the fact that she was working as a gunsmith and had recently met Lady. That had probably been the beginning of the end for her. “You think you could teach me some of this cool stuff you guys do in that big, fancy house of yours? Because I want in on that. It would be super cool.”

An almost teasing look crossed her face as she punched Nico playfully in the shoulder, coaxing an entertained but brief laugh from the mechanic as she sat up again and attempted to right herself. “I suppose nothing bad could come from showing you the basics. We're always looking for new disciples. Just don’t say I showed you. I’m certain that madam Willow would have my head for it if she knew.

Nico exclaimed excitedly, jumping up and heading into the kitchen. Flora and V made themselves comfortable in front of the fire in the meantime, seemingly ready to call it a day even though it wasn’t even noon yet. Perhaps that was the problem. It was too early for at least one of them, and almost too early for the other. Nico was too sporadic to say definitively. But as she sat there basking in the glow of the warm fire, something occurred to her that hadn’t the moment before. And thankfully Nico had returned from the kitchen empty-handed in the meantime. She could answer her question.

“Black fire you say? Very interesting… That’s quite the rarity if I’m not mistaken. I can barely make an orange flame.” Flora brushed her hair out of her face, clearly flustered slightly. What a strange thing to hear about from someone outside of the estate. She had never seen anyone wield that kind of power in person. She only knew about it through her studies. That kind of magic was forbidden. Too destructive from what she understood. “In fact, they are not quite flames at all, in that respect. Those flames, they burn cold. I’m curious what he hoped to accomplish using that type of fire.” 

Yawning, Nico sat back down on the floor and stretched out, unsure as to what else she could really add to that discussion until she remembered something. “Oh, believe me, Missy, it was definitely hot. Now that I think about it, the fire was black and white. Might have something to do with it. I don’t know, I’m not the one with the fancy magic.”

Flora blanched. Clearly, she had misheard that, or Nico was simply mistaken. Black and white flames together were simply unheard of. Was that even possible? Everyone she’d ever met put together couldn’t amass the power necessary to pull something like that off. Could Sirrus actually… 

“Now then, do you still have that scroll that you were given before your departure? I was told to assist you with it. Considering the circumstances, it should be invaluable, at least from what I have been led to believe.” Perhaps it was best to simply change the subject. After all, there was nothing she could do to influence things one way or another. The possession of that kind of power didn’t mean anything worrisome in the grand scheme of things. It was more down to the user than anything else when it came to deciding if an ability was hazardous or not. The gifts he might possess were potentially calamitous, but that didn’t mean that Sirrus was planning to wage a war of epic proportions against them simply because he possessed the ability to. Now she better understood what Hydrangea had been talking about all this time… 

V reached into the inside of his coat pocket and produced the scroll, handing it to her. She unfurled the piece of paper, carefully looking it over in the dim light before holding it closer to the fire so that she could see it better. After a moment, she nodded and then returned it to V, turning her attention back towards the fire. “Know what to do with it?”

He considered simply telling her no before deciding to look it over himself one final time, curious to know it was possible for him to glean anything useful from it in spite of his inability to actually perform magic. Well, at least on purpose. V was positive that he had accidentally done so on several occasions without realizing it, the first time he’d ever manifested his spectral canes being a stand-out example of that to him. He wasn’t sure if that was an inborn gift, or simply a case of him accidentally doing something he hadn’t known was possible. All that he knew was that he had wondered what would happen if he had tried to move his hand in a certain position after feeling a strange surge of power, and in that instant, he had figured out how to utilize that specific ability.

After studying the scroll for a moment, V furrowed his brow ever so slightly, sure that he had misunderstood what it was trying to impart upon him. He then turned his attention back to Flora, giving her a questioning look. “Am I to understand that this should be thrown into the fireplace?”

She nodded, seemingly impressed by the fact that he had actually been able to read the scroll. She then gestured towards the fire, moving out of the way so that he would be able to proceed. “Yes, as it turns out, this is a more advanced ward that requires activation instead of just reading it. Tossing it in should do the trick.”

Upon hearing this, Nico stood up, nearly falling over herself in the process. She steadied herself and brushed off her clothes, having accumulated a thin layer of dust from sitting so close to the fireplace. It seemed that V had missed that part of the room when he had attempted to clean. Or perhaps it had simply returned to that state after V and Flora looked at her curiously for a moment before she broke the silence, clearly excited.

“Okay, so…  can I throw that paper or whatever that is into the fireplace? Because I never get to mess around with this kinda stuff and it just seems super cool. I get to make stuff sometimes, but I can’t use it, ya know? I just wanna know what it’s like. That alright with you, V?”

Admittedly, V was shocked by her question. Her point was completely valid, but he hadn’t thought about the fact that Nico might feel that way. Something told him that she would probably be genuinely excited to wake up with demonic powers one day, unlike him who just didn’t know how to take it at first. He had no issue with her request, but was that even possible?

V looked over his shoulder at Flora as if to ask her if it would be possible to honor Nico’s request. She nodded, shrugging slightly but not unpleasantly. It seemed that it didn’t matter how it ended up in the fireplace. All that mattered was that it made it in there one way or another. He then turned to the mechanic and handed her the scroll, nodding in agreement. “Of course you can. Be my guest”

With a barely concealed yelp of excitement, Nico chucked the scroll into the rolling flames, going slightly wide-eyed as they turned bright purple and shot up the chimney and out of sight. A sort of heaviness lingered in the air for a moment and the windows and door rattled as the walls vibrated before settling down and returning to normal. Nico couldn’t have looked more excited if she tried.

Leaning over to teach Flora’s ear, V smirked slightly, more than a little amused. “Are you positive that you should teach her any form of magic? I’ve seen her drive. That is a disaster waiting to happen.”

(-~-)

Oh shit, I forgot to tell you all that Thursday is my Mom’s 50th birthday! We’re going to be celebrating basically all weekend, so I’m going to try my best to get the chapters out on time for Friday (I’m working on them today) but don’t be surprised if they are a little late. If you don’t see them on Friday, check back on Saturday! They should be out by then!

I hope you liked this chapter! See you in the comment section, and have an amazing day!

[technicolor--dreams]

Letter from Gene Kelly to his daughter Kerry

If you speak french, you can hear the whole letter being read here. Also, special thanks to @mostlydaydreaming for helping out during this journey trying to find the whole letter and translating it, and for letting me upload it in its entirety even though she originally posted the first half on her page.

P.S. grab a tissue, it’s very moving!

March 1943

Dear Kerry,

I can't wait until you're old enough for me to talk to you Kerry, and for you to talk to me. I have a lot to tell you and I want to make sure you understand me.

But maybe I shouldn't say that I want you to grow up. You’re so pretty now, I’m already worried. Imagine how worried I will be when you are seventeen ...

Kerry, when you grow up, I hope you will be an actress. If you’re not an actress, I hope you’ll be a singer or a dancer… Because I think it’s the most awesome profession in the world, with the most awesome people.

I especially hope that when you grow up Kerry, you will be able to work at what you like and raise your children in a less painful time than the one we know.

And if, as you grow up, you become an actress, I know you will work hard and try to do well. Because, believe me, it is only by trying to do things very well that, even if you fail, you will realize yourself and enjoy your work.

I always keep trying to be an actor, Kerry - and here are the things I learned along the way: you are useless when you are not honest. Honest in everything we do: studies, shows, attitude.

If you keep this honesty and sincerity in your work, and you have a certain natural talent, you will inevitably learn something and become brilliant.

... But it is I who must instill in you this notion of sincerity. Even if for that, I have to write it at the bottom of your cereal bowl.

Let’s skip all of your younger years, Kerry - I know it’s going to be a lot of fun for you, your mom and me. Because after the war, we are going to travel to small places where we went before your mother and I, and that we would like to see again. Strange little places that almost nobody knows or visits.

Maybe then we can spend a weekend in China or elsewhere, by plane, and you can see all the places your old father always wanted to see, but he never actually managed to visit.

And Kerry, please, for the love of Heaven, have a sense of humor. This is one of the blessings and virtues that you will never learn in catechism. But it’s a gift from God as wonderful as faith, hope and kindness ...

Always be ready to smile at anything and make people smile with you.

And it doesn't matter if it's old-fashioned: don't forget to work hard. Because it doesn't matter if you become beautiful and brilliant, you will never achieve anything without it.

Be nice to people, Kerry. Try not to hurt them. But don't get me wrong: I don't want you NOT to be a fighter, and not to fight for your rights. But be nice. The nicest thing in the world is to walk down the street and have people say "Hi, nice to see you! ", Really thinking it.

Let me tell you why I wanted to be an actor: I know that when you’re an actor, a good actor, you have to be an artist and look at the world that way. And when you’re an artist, a good artist, you do a lot of good.

Your old father knows all about it because he would like to do this job for this reason. Hopefully one day he can really say that he is an artist.

Don't be scared off by people who tell you that acting is tough, Kerry. Or that of singer, dancer, or any other theatrical profession. Because it is.

But all these hard knocks and struggles - believe me, you will often face them if you evolve in the world of the theater or in another similar medium - are good for you. And if you keep that sense of humor that I told you about, you’ll have a lot of fun too. Even when times are sad.

Also, being in the entertainment industry is always a thrill. Each new film, each new play, each new musical, each new ballet is a new adventure and marks the beginning of a whole new world. And that Kerry is something. Because it fuels interest in humanity. You have to stay interested ... I hate bragging about the woman I married - who, by accident, happens to be one of your loved ones, Kerry, by blood - but one of the things I love most about the show business is that it allowed me to meet your mother, my wife.

When you are a little older you will read the story of “Cinderella” and other fairy tales to whom wonderful things happened. But let me tell you a real, realistic fairy tale that will never cease to be a source of amazement for me.

I was putting on a show for Billy Rose in New York when a young red-haired girl with stars in her eyes came to me for a job as a dancer in the choir. She was an excellent dancer. She got the job. A few weeks later, I started going to lunch with her, then inviting her to dinner, and then taking her home the evening after the show. One evening after the show, we ran into a friend of mine named William Saroyan who, after a five-minute conversation, gave him the lead role in one of his new plays, "The Beautiful People".

She had never played a role on stage before. But he was so impressed with her sincerity, honesty and obvious beauty that he knew, from the first time he saw her, that she could play this excellent dramatic role in her important production, a great play New Yorker. It looks like one of those scenarios that nobody believes in in the movies - but it happened to that girl. Yes, that girl was your mother, Kerry, as you guessed I guess. The play was a success, and so was its performance. Then another of those miracles that theater makes possible happened.

I remember now what my mother and father told me about their childhood, the mistakes they made and the things they would like to have a chance to do again - all of this “went in one ear and out the other”...

And here I am a father now, trying to tell my child about these things that my parents have no doubt told me before. I hope that you will be smarter than your father and that you will remember some of them.

When I was going to school in Pittsburgh when I was a little boy, I was always afraid of doing anything "different". I always had to do what all the other boys did. Even though sometimes I didn't want a boy to pick on someone else and everyone to join him, it seemed normal to do, since it was what the whole world did, and that’s having enough courage, Kerry - to refuse to do something just because everybody does it.

I remember when my mother sent me to take dance lessons. I was, you could say, in a gang, and they all thought that dancing was for sissies and that real guys didn't do this kind of thing. I was often beaten while going to dance classes, and then when I got home, white as a sheet and the recipient of black eyes in many fights with the children who used to bother me. Now I love to dance. But because everyone thought it was a sissy thing I fought terribly with my parents until they finally let me quit. Bless them for their patience dealing with me!

Of course, Kerry, being a little girl, you're not exactly gonna get the same problems I've had when I was a little boy, but you may have similar ones and when you will have to face them, you’ll need the courage to make your own decisions, even if that means you have to be different, because, you see, those are the things that can make you successful. I'm in the theater - today I'm a dancer, so…

Kerry, if there's one thing that you really care about, do not be afraid to do it, no matter the number of people who make fun of you. Tell yourself that if you care so much about something, it has to be done. It's the same for the Curie school.Try to find out what you wish the most to do. Personally I hope you will go to university, but if you decide on the contrary it's okay, because what you'll get out of your studies will be proportional to your interest. I wasted many years when I was in college, but it wasn't anybody’s fault but mine, plus, the more effort, the more you learn. Nobody learns when you throw things in their face.

Even if some knowledge remains, I'm already thinking about the book that I'm going to buy you when you're old enough to read it.I really want for you to find out these great, adventurous, worlds of excitement and knowledge that others have lived and that you too can live, even as a child, thanks to these books. I just hope you enjoy reading enough, so you don't spend all your free time listening to all those radio shows we throw at children in these days.

I hope you'll use your imagination and that you won’t have any superficial ideas, but please, Kerry, don't grow up too quick because I'm crazy about you, I want to keep you close to me as much as possible.

But when you grow up, marry and have children who will look like you, I won't realize it right away, but it's the most amazing thing in the whole world.

With all my love, daddy.

[alvaar-aldaviir]

Close Call

Anon requested the following:

Fog - hearing stay awake as they are carried to safety.

Repair - being confined to bed due to injury or illness and hating every second of it.

Misfit - getting out of bed too soon, insisting they feel much better, and collapsing / passing out.

All three: In which both twins are sidelined and Alvaar has to care for them?

Time Frame: Post Canon. No Spoilers

Notes: Established Alvaar/Alphinaud/Alisaie. Prompt fill for the Rest Prompts.

Cross posted to Ao3.

-

Alisaie wasn’t entirely certain what happened. She remembers rushing ahead, trying to reach one of the Brass Blades further away from them. A young hyur, newly recruited and eager to prove himself on the field. Undoubtedly the sort to find themselves into the most trouble. From there it’s... hazy.

Fire. A very loud noise that felt like it was still echoing in her skull. And what seemed like far, far too much blood but from where she wasn’t...

She wasn’t...

Gods she was exhausted. Exhausted and cold and sorely wishing whatever she was curled up on would just stop with the bouncing about already.

Distantly she hears something familiar. Something important. Something demanding she pay attention.

There’s a flicker of red and white robes in her blurred vision. A gentle touch to her head that reminds her of years long past. Of the Ruby Sea and one of those rare times she finally felt like someone had approved of and been genuinely proud of her. Alvaar’s hand settling into her still damp hair after she’d successfully distracted and escaped the Red Kojin, and the warm and approving smile he’d given her that had soothed the ache of past failures even for just a moment...

It’s not Alvaar she sees. This hyur woman is too short, a long and wild mane of russet hair framing a stubborn but gentle face.

“Stay awake,” the woman murmurs, voice low but calm even as she issues the order with the maternal confidence of a seasoned healer.

“What?” Alisaie asks, or tries to at least, as the word catches in her throat and wheezes out instead.

“It’s not time for you yet,” she explains simply, hand still settled against her hair and ruffling pale strands with a familiar motion. “You need to-”

“-STAY AWAKE!”

It jars her from her thoughts, some of the fog lifting to look up at the Bard currently carrying her. The grim set of his determined expression as he drags in air with deep and almost bestial breaths while the battlefield blurs past them.

Distantly she can hear music. Feel the warm breeze that usually follows him when he’s worked his Bardic abilities to full swing.

“Stay with me you hear? Keep listening to my voice and don’t drift off. I mean it!” Alvaar demands, voice louder than normal and rough from the sprint he’s making.

She wants to listen to him. This is probably the most demanding he’s ever been in her presence. The last thought she has before she slips under is that he and that White Mage seem very alike.

-

Alisaie wakes up to a steady and deep ache in almost everything, but especially focused on her right side. Propped up slightly against pillows and a modestly comfortable bed in a darkened room. When she tries to feel out the damage, she comes to the puzzled realization her right arm is in a sling and her left hand is tangled up with someone else’s. Before she can even try and push herself up to sort things out there’s a warm palm settling to her collarbone and pressing her back down.

“Don’t,” Alvaar murmurs from somewhere in the dark before the bed she’s laying on dips a bit as he perches beside her. Pulling away he fussed with something nearby before the strike and hiss of a match sounds as he lights the bedside lamp.

It throws a warm light about the rustic room they’re in, setting shadows to dancing across wooden supports and plastered stone. Some small study converted into a makeshift private medical ward.

“You look terrible,” she remarks without thought after meeting Alvaar’s pale gaze, the Bard still a bit bleary eyed and the shadows emphasizing the fatigue on his face.

“Yea? Well you don’t look like roses and kittens either,” he remarks flatly before a weak grin tugs at his mouth in spite of himself, brushing her short hair back with a careful touch. “But I’m glad to see you awake. You gave us all a scare.”

“Did I? Where’s Alphinaud?” she asks, glancing around. “He should be here any minute to harp on me about staying in bed and recovering...”

“Next to you.”

That makes her blink, finally looking down and noticing the second lump under the thin blanket beside her. Settled as close as he could get without disturbing her, fingers threaded tight with her own even as he slept.

“You’re very lucky. You only got hit with shrapnel. Barely missed your lung, but you were bleeding so badly... Alphinaud drained every drop of aether he had getting you stabilized before I could get you back to the chirurgeons,” Alvaar whispered.

“What happened?” she asked, still not looking away from the face of her twin and the worried set of his brow even as he slept.

“Stray magitek shot hit one of the ceruleam tanks on a broken reaper,” Alvaar murmured. “Sent metal shards everywhere.” The toughened fingers that soothe over her hair draws her attention back to him, studying the tight look of concern on his face. Cupping her jaw gently, he strokes the rough edge of his thumb along her cheek, a tender gesture she shifts into without thought. Shutting her eyes as he leans in closer, she stays quiet as he presses a kiss to the top of her head and nuzzles into her hair before going still and savoring the closeness. It speaks more of his concern than any amount of chastising or flowery words. Evoking a quiet and soft sort of warmth in her heart that almost always gentled the sharper edges of her words and personality.

“M’ okay,” she mumbles. “You don’t need to fuss. I wanted to sleep anyway.”

“Good... Could you humor me? Just a moment longer,” he whispers, words soft and airy as they’re breathed so close against her skin and it makes her heart thump despite herself. Giving an answering hum before he’s cradling her face in both hands and pressing another kiss to her nose. Her brow. A few more feather-soft presses of lips against her cheeks as his fingers brush along her ears before his forehead and nose nudge against hers and stay. Warm and tender and filled with the all-consuming love the Bard just seemed to give as naturally as breathing.

“I love you,” she murmurs without thought, wishing she could wrap her arms around him even as she thinks it doesn’t matter when they still feel that close anyway.

“Love you too, my dearest chevalier. Please, for just a bit, no brave heroics? I know that’s your default, but you probably shaved a year or three off my life today and this world needs you,” Alvaar returned quietly.

It ruffles her ire just a little, as being sick or injured always does. But she’s tired and sore and the warmth and patient intimacy of the moment win her over in the end.

“Alright... But I expect fresh tarts and tea tomorrow,” she breathes, smirking faintly at the huff of amusement that leaves him.

“I’ll do my best with what I’ve got. Get some rest, I’ll be here if you need anything.”

-

“You know I hate being bedridden,” Alisaie huffs the next morning, even as her injuries throb faintly as she remains leaned into Alvaar’s side with her cheek resting against his shoulder. She heaves a slow breath and waits for him to turn the page of his book given her reading speed is faster than his own. There’s a temptation to tease him for only having romance novels and sheet music on him, but the opening chapter had been enjoyable enough to still her tongue.

“I do. What page do you think the smut scene happens on?” he asked lightly.

“How long is it?”

He paused to flip to the back. “... 432.”

“Mmm I bet 120,” she answered frowning a bit at his following snort.

“Amateur,” he remarked lightly, smirking with amusement.

“Oh? Pray tell what’s your guess?”

Holding the page with a finger he flipped the book closed to study the thickness a moment before checking the page number of a seemingly random section. “They’ll do a cocktease at around 250 to build tension but won’t do the actual act for at least another 50 pages. It’s too slow burn even for a one off to happen a quarter in. Too much focus on a plot and world setting.”

It earned a faint chuckle from her. “I’d place a bet on that but somehow I’m inclined to believe you’ve read enough of these sordid tales to know.”

“It’s something to do and the novels are cheap,” he answered before they both perked up at the third occupant of the bed as he stirred with a soft noise of protest.

Pushing himself up to sitting, Alphinaud groaned faintly as he rubbed at his face sleepily, long hair ruffled and sticking up from where he slept on it. It made Alisaie unconsciously reach over to pet it smooth with her good arm given Alvaar was too far away to beat her to it.

“Good morning Alphinaud,” she announced simply, studying him blankly when he gave a start and looked back at her with wide eyes.

“Alisaie,” he whispered, staring at her in disbelief a moment before he reached up to grip her hand in his and give a brave if slightly teary-eyed smile. “I am glad to see you awake and well dear sister. I... we both were concerned for you.”

“I’ll be a sight better when Alvaar lets me out of this bed,” she huffed but gave her twin a faint smile anyway even as he frowned faintly.

“You had best stay put until the chirurgeons give you leave of it,” he chided flatly.

“Or what? You’ll park a carbuncle on me?” she challenged wryly.

“I very well may.” Casting his gaze over to Alvaar, his expression softened further. “I see you are up and about as well my friend. I’m sorry to have left everything to you by falling asleep. It was not my intention.”

A shrug rolled off a broad shoulder flippantly as the Bard tossed a hand in nonchalance. “Don’t worry about it. I just had to assist your spell with Bardsong, not dump my everything into it. You needed the rest more than I did.”

“But neither was I the one that returned to the fray to lead a decisive charge,” the Scholar shot back frankly.

Meeting the scrutinizing stare, Alvaar offered another faint shrug. “And here I am, resting. I would suggest you do likewise. I brought you breakfast. I would have done your hair too, but you were quite content where you were. Hold still and let me fix it for you.” Snapping the book shut once he’d tossed a bookmark in place, he set the paperback aside and eased away from Alisaie’s side.

Squinting out the open window and the daylight blazing outside Alphinaud shook his head. “No, it seems to be well past noon as is. I should gather the reports and the recent status of our positions,” he countered, already slipping out from the covers and sweeping his hair back into some rough sense of order.

“Hold up a second would you? At least take a moment to eat something,” Alvaar chided, slipping to his feet and starting to round the bed.

“Knowing you? It’s likely something I can eat on the way,” he returned with dry amusement. “I’ll be alright, but undoubtedly Raubahn will be interested in my insight and I shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

The Bard paused at the corner of the bed, frowning faintly at the Scholar who now stood an easy two inches above him.

“If it makes you feel better, I can bring them back here to review?” Alphinaud offered, smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt before moving for his longcoat draped over the back of a nearby chair. He’d made it all of three steps before his knee buckled, Alvaar swooping in abruptly and catching him before his head could meet the floor.

Studying him with a flat look, Alvaar tsked under his breath. Shifting his grip so he can release a hand and press the back of it to the Scholar’s brow. “You’re running cold. Aether deprivation... Come on, Raubahn and the Alliance will make do without us. Let’s get you back in bed where you’re going to eat something alright? I’ve got a potion or three in my bag.”

“I’m fine... just... slipped,” Alphinaud huffed.

“You almost smashed your skull on the floor Alphinaud, I would do as Alvaar says,” Alisaie remarked flatly from the bed, now parked towards the center of it where she’d yanked herself on reflex in fright.

“Come on love, don’t be stubborn,” Alvaar murmured, scooping him up in his arms and lifting him easily. A slight amused grin tugged at his face as the Scholar glowered at him.

“I’m fine,” he insisted again.

“Sure. Humor me anyway? I don’t need any more scares today. My heart can’t take it,” Alvaar argued lightly, getting the man situated back on the bed and fussing the blankets back over him.

Alphinaud was less than happy about it, even as a small plate of cinnamon rolls was held out to him and accepted.

“This is far too sweet for breakfast,” he snipped softly.

“It will help give you a boost. If I’d known when you’d be waking up, I would have had a drink ready for you. But cold tea or coffee is the worst, so what do you want me to fetch you?” Alvaar asked lightly, ignoring the Scholar’s sour mood.

“Coffee. ... thank you.”

“Tea for me please,” Alisaie chirped, mostly because she knew Alvaar was about to ask anyway.

“Alright. Stay in bed the both of you. I come back and you’re gone, I’ll tell Y’shtola,” Alvaar threatened as he collected a few empty glasses and plates before excusing himself.

“... Pest,” Alphinaud remarked after the Bard’s steps had faded.

“Definitely,” Alisaie agreed as she leaned into him, plucking a cinnamon roll off his plate and taking a delicate bite. “But I suppose we both have to suffer being bedridden together,” she murmured after swallowing and taking another bite.

He made a noncommittal noise, but even then he leaned back into her shoulder gently. The pair sharing a silent reassurance that the other was fine.

“Y’shtola’s not even here,” Alisaie commented lightly.

“I’m not taking chances,” Alphinaud returned promptly.

“Me neither.”

-

Curled back up in bed with the pair a few hours later, Alphinaud on his third ether with his hair freshly brushed and braided, and Alisaie having just had her wound checked and another wash of restorative magic on her deeper wounds, Alvaar casually flipped the page of his book. Alisaie was slouched down enough to rest warm and cozy against his right shoulder and Alphinaud mirrored on his left. It was almost, if he ignored the circumstances entirely, like a weekend morning when things were relatively peaceful. Those rare times they could all lounge in bed late into the day and be comfortable together. Something so innocuously domestic he could still scarcely believe it possible for him.

It was a thought that left his heart soft and warm, and given the fright of the last day the Bard hoarded it close as he often did with these quiet moments.

“So, when do you think the smut scene happens?” he asked lightly on reflex.

“I still think it’s sooner,” Alisaie pointed out. “There’s no way it doesn’t happen before page 200.”

“No, there’s too much world building, it will take longer than that,” Alphinaud commented, puzzled at Alvaar’s soft chuckle and his sisters look of betrayed disbelief.

[kaptainkhadijah]

Kaptain’s Blog #1 - Rules

Not a bad title right? I think that’s what I’ll call my blog posts that I want associated with the podcast

So right now I’m staying at an AirBnb in Lakewood, CO. I think I have an inkling as to why because I’m seeing some books on manifestation and law of attraction by Esther and Jerry Hicks (aka Abraham Hicks) who I’m very interested in learning from because I really like their philosophies.

But that’s not what this blog post is about. This is a post about rules. Because at this AirBnb, I’m being confronted with my distaste for rules that I deem unnecessary. I’m not needlessly defiant, but I don’t just follow rules for the sake of following them. Here’s what happened to me today that inspired this post: 

So today is 4/20. International Day of Ouid. Me, being the pothead that I am, was planning on smoking today as much as possible so I go ahead and roll up all the strains I have. Naturally, because I’m in Colorado, that shit is loud. Just as I’m finishing up, the host of the AirBnb wants to talk to me. I know that smoking inside and outside the house is against the house rules (I’ll touch on that later. Don’t let me forget.) so of course, I’m not smoking it. I won’t lie, I thought about it, but I didn’t! I’ve been here for two days now, and the weed has been in the room with me sealed this whole time. She asks me if I’m smoking and I say no in the tone of “of course not” and tell her I’m just rolling it up and that I’m on my way out. Her reply is, “Well can you leave your stuff in the garage because I can smell it already.” This was the first strike. What I wanted to say was “Well you’re only smelling it because it’s out and I’m working with it. Once I pack it all up, you won’t smell it for much longer. I don’t want to put my stuff out in the garage,” but instead, I just said “Ok” and finished up and dipped. I left it in my room though and just sealed it up and sprayed the room down because I figure that’s easier than putting my stuff out in the garage and it’s the same end result: no smell. 

Now here comes strike two. While I’m out and about looking for a place to partake in the festivities, I text my host and sort of, extend the olive branch. I apologize for the smell and let her know I sealed everything up and I don’t even plan on taking any more out any time soon so we shouldn’t have any more issues. Thumbs up emoji. All good, right? Nope. The host is not satisfied and insists that I leave it in the garage so “the smell doesn’t linger”. Mind you, I just walked my loud ass up through the house and out the garage, so it makes sense that the smell is lingering at the moment. Let’s return back to that rule I was talking about.  

So the rule is no smoking in or outside of the house because her and her neighbors don’t like the smell. And this is a common complaint with people against weed smoking. What’s interesting is, people almost always prefer weed over cigarette smoke because weed smoke doesn’t last as long. Easier to remove. So that’s one. But my thing is: If you can stand the smell of your own farts, of your own poop, of your dog’s farts....how is it you’re drawing the line at weed? I understand if it gives you headaches. But really, does the smell of weed really trigger such an averse effect that you absolutely cannot stand to smell it at all? Like is it really that deep? Cause it always sounds dramatic to me and I was thinking about all the smells we tolerate. So I’m just like “what is it about weed that makes the girls act like that?” You could say that it’s their prerogative since it’s their house. And that’s true. But that’s not what I’m questioning. I want to know why is it that people who don’t smoke weed hate the smell of weed so much. Like can they just not appreciate what the smell means? I’m genuinely asking. Cause it sounds like classist bullshit to me. But I could be wrong. 

Anyway, so at strike two, I’m definitely upset. Here’s the thing: I don’t like to be controlled. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll bottom no problem. I’ll even submit to the right person. But that’s me choosing. I don’t like when people try to exert control over me. Could be my superiority complex as an Aquarius, idk. But I don’t like when people try to wield authority over me in an oppressive way. It’s one thing if I have to answer to you because I work for you. Or even in this situation where you own the house and I follow your rules. I understand that. What I don’t understand is the need to insist on your way of doing things just for the sake of doing things your way. That is one of my biggest pet peeves. I’ve been in leadership positions and I’ve found that the people you’re leading always respond better to relatability than power moves. Yes, you will have to assert yourself sometimes, but overall, I find that people respond better to me when I’m not trying to impose my will on them. 

So that’s why we’re discussing rules. Because I believe that if you want a rule to be followed, it needs to have a reason for existing. Like traffic rules. Safety regulations. We know why we need to follow those rules and there are clear consequences if we don’t. But insisting that I have to do things a certain way, when another way would get the desired result, is ridiculous to me. And I encourage anyone to question those type of rules. Because to me they’re completely unnecessary and only serve the rule-maker’s ego. And one thing about me, I love to challenge a person’s ego. 

Let’s get back to the story. By strike two, I’m considering leaving this place. I’m already sacrificing my smoking habits to stay here, plus there’s this overall judge-y attitude I keep getting from her. But maybe I’ll talk about that in a different post. In any case, I don’t like the way I’m feeling in this situation, so I’m ready to bolt. Then I get home and I put the weed away in the garage and then I get another text “reminding” me to put my weed in the garage. At this point I’m definitely questioning the motive behind the rules. In my mind, if you can’t smell the weed anymore, why does it matter where it is? Why would you need to confirm that I did what you asked? I’m offended at this point. I feel like if we’re both adults here and you still smell the weed then you can just tell me that and I’d let you know I already put it in the garage and try to do something about the smell. But that’s not what she said. So I’m like “Alright bitch I think I officially don’t like you.” 

THEN as strike number 3, she asks me not to eat in the bedroom. I had passed her on my way back from picking up food I had delivered, and then I get a text later on saying she “forgot” to tell me she’d prefer if I ate outside the bedroom in the living area or used a TV tray. Now at this point I’m like “I’m getting tf out of here” because first of all, I eat in my room all the time so you’re really fucking up my flow with that one. But second, I’m paying to be in this private room unbothered. If I eat in the room and I make no mess then what exactly is the issue? You could say that maybe she doesn’t know that I won’t make a mess. That’s true. But! You could charge me for cleaning fees and you’re going to strip and wash the sheets anyway so if I do make a mess, there’s a fix for it. So what other reason could she have for saying that? And if she were actually concerned about messes or even pests, she could just say “Hey, can you be careful if you’re going to be eating in the room not to leave food out in case of pests?” Or “Hey, if you’re gonna eat in the bedroom, just be careful of the carpet in there.” And that could be it! But instead she chose to invoke some kind of rule that I’d have to follow. And that’s what bothers me. 

But I’m writing about it, not only to vent, but to say that if someone does this, it’s a red flag. There’s ways to communicate concerns or needs without making things rules that others have to follow and therefore putting yourself in a place of authority over someone else. Don’t let anybody tell you different. And don’t accept anything less. If a rule doesn’t make sense, you have a right to question it. 

I’ll probably be leaving this space earlier than intended simply because I’d rather be somewhere else than live with someone who feels the need to control what I do to this degree. To some this might not be a big deal, but I know that this stuff is never just surface level. And typically people like this tend to make more and more rules until they feel satisfied. Also, I don’t want to be around this kind of energy longer than I need to be. I’ve gotten enough of it in childhood, thanks. 

Have you had a run in with someone like this? How’d it go? Were you able to get out of the situation? What was that like? Let me know, and thanks for reading! 

[eveningcatcher]

Main six + courtiers playing D&D part 1

"Alright, now that everyone's here," you said as you were looking over your papers, "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Wait, wait," Vulgora said, swinging their character sheet in the air, "How did you calculate any of these things? Why the fuck is here +5" she pointed at their intimidation stat, then moved her finger to the persuasion stat, "And here it's +3?"

"It's because you've added your proficiency bonus there," Nadia explained as she stirred her coffee.

"Proficiency?" they asked, frowning.

"That coloured dot," Julian said.

"Ohh, ohhhh, that makes sense now," they put the paper down and took the large gulp of their beer, recklessly spilling it over the white sheet of paper.

Valerius moves his chair away from the pontifex, as well as his character sheets, "So, I can leave in three hours, right?"

Read the whole chapter here

"Why would you want to leave so soon?" you asked them, pouring them a glass of wine.

"Because there is no fulfilment in wasting time with filling these sheets and sitting idly, spending the precious time in useless chatter about non-existing worlds and their non-existing characters going into non-existing journeys," quaestor added as they pulled a chair in between Volta and Vulgora, "If your heart yearns for such journeys and adventures then why don't you go on and experience them on your own?"

"I see you've done some research," Portia adds as she put a huge tray of food next to the procurator, "Ilya remember when we used to play D&D?"

Julian gave his sister a wide grin, "Oh, I remember when you started yelling at me whenever I would be a DM."

"Well that's because you would never let me do anything I wanted to," she put a cup of tea next to the praetor, "Careful, it's still hot."

"So how long do we play this game?" Vlastomil asked, "I need to take care of my dear Wriggler. Oh, how sad she was when I left," he frowned, quickly wiping a single dear, "She must be worried sick, wriggling around, eating her sorrows away..."

"Oh, I can completely understand her, yes I can," Volta rose her head from her food, giving the praetor an understanding look, "I always eat when I'm stressed and anxious."

"You always eat, though," Asra commented before facing Julian, "Did I fill this right?" they asked him.

"Hm, let me see," he took the papers, along with the player's handbook. He would list through the pages, not bothering to check the book content, only stopping when he needed to check the papers.

"Here," he pointed at the skills, "You can check another stat you want."

"Oh, thanks," they took the pencil and checked insight, adding the proficiency bonus.

"So, shall we begin then?" you asked as you raised DM's screen.

"Why do you have that?!? Where is mine?!?"

"Yeah, I want some too!" Lucio demanded.

"But I am the DM, players can't have this."

"Can we just begin already?" Muriel said something for the first time, "I just want to leave."

"Alright, fine. I hope you've all made yourselves comfortable because we won't take a break for a while."

"Oh, that's no good, no, that is terrible," tiny procurator said as she was chewing her food, spilling some of it out, "What about the food? We're almost out!"

"Don't worry dear," Nadia said, as she was taking one of her rings out, cleaning the emerald with her sleeve, "Food will be brought over the time, so let's just begin already."

"Alright, alright, let's begin now," you said as you gathered magic in your hands, letting it poof and cover the top of the table, "The story begins in a small tavern on the northern side of the human village-"

"Let's smash their skulls and claim all of their things!" Vulgora said as they smashed their fist on the table, moving the mist away.

"I mean, you could do that," you said, putting your finger on your lips as you gave their idea a bit more thought. Once you've come up with the satisfying idea, you started to control the mist, folding it to your liking, until the mist turned into an inside of a tavern, with all of their characters sitting on one table, some of them drinking, others talking(more like arguing) and others playing a game of cards.

Amongst them, there is one certain Dragonborn who can't seem to calm down. They stand up, walking over the table, then announcing their idea loudly enough for the other PC's to hear:

"Let's kill everyone in this stupid village!" the Dragonborn said.

"I don't know, I kinda like it here," Julian's PC said as they took another glass of beer.

"Oh, I love this magic smoke!" he said as he grabbed a handful of popcorn, munching on it as he tried not to spill it.

"I'll try my best to make it as realistic as possible," you said, as you stopped motioning with your hands once you were sure the magic will last, "But anyway, any other thoughts on Vulgora's idea?"

"Absolutely no." Nadia and her character said in unision.

"I have to agree with the countess," Valerius said as he went through his character sheets, "The guards will kill us all."

"No they won't," Vulgora responded sharply, "There are so many of us, we will kill them all!"

"We are all first level, so I doubt it," Portia said, taking the tray of food and setting it in front of hungry Volta.

"Wait, there are levels here," praetor asked, his head buried in the player's handbook, not understanding anything.

"Yes, twenty of them, apparently," Valdemar added calmly, clearly bored; "Um, is that supposed to happen?" Muriel asked as they pointed towards a figure walking towards their PC's.

With a sly grin, you started to tell them your story. Altering your voice to what you believe a tall, middle-aged sorcerer would sound like.

Everyone looked at each other as if they thought that the other knew what was going on. Once they realised that this is most likely something about your story, they looked at the fog and listened to the old sorcerer.

"So... you must be the adventurers who want to," he quickly took a glance at the other people in the tavern, leaning towards the table the group was sitting in, and, with a low voice, said, "Kill the gods?"

"I, uh," Muriel stuttered, not knowing how to react, however, Asra started talking, moving the attention to them and, with a sly grin, said "Yes, you got the right people."

"Oh, ho, so it is indeed you," he chuckled, "What an... interesting bunch you are... reminds me of the last adventurers who have tried to do what you long for..." he smiled, "Ohh, those were the times, yes indeed they were."

"Tell us more about them," Portia insisted.

"Ohh, they were, you know, quite the colourful bunch," he said, "Though not as big as you are. Just a small group of three, a human, tiefling and a..." he stopped talking for a moment, taking the time to run their bony hands through the beard, "A, hmm, was she a pureblood, or a human too... I can't quite recall," he shrugged it off with a simple gesture of hands, "It doesn't matter. The important, and a quite interesting part, is that they were all wronged by the world and-"

"Oh, please make it quick, I don't care about them!" Vulgora's PC said.

"I use my cantrip prestidigitation to muffle out their complains," Asra said.

"Okay, you succeeded," you said, through a giggle as you muted Vulgora's endless number of complaints.

"," Vulgora tried to say something, but no words could be heard from their lips. However, this couldn't stop them, so they signed to Asra a few words, probably the only ones they knew how to sign: I'll crush you, wizard boy!

"Sorry about that my good sir," Nadia's PC turned on her chair, calling a taverner, "Could you please bring us some ginger ale for this gentleman?"

The sorcerer chuckled, satisfied with the free drink and continued, "Well then, where was I again, ah yes," he stroke his long beard as he recalled the lore, "Those three were, quite a chaotic bunch to say the least. They all hated this society, but they didn't blame the government, no no, they blamed the gods who have created this world. So anyway, what is the reason behind your decision?" he leaned to Muriel's druid, "Is it power, glory and praise? No, you don't look like the type who desires such things..." he muttered, leaning towards the evil Tiefling, "What about you, oh I think I know!" he nodded with satisfaction, "You seek the answers, young one, don't you? Or maybe it's the curiosity; what would the world be like with no god? Oh, ho, ho..." he sat back to his chair, just in time as he was handed the beverage and took a huge gulp, choking on it. With a few loud coughs, he calmed down and continued, "Well then, I must warn you, everyone who tried to kill a God has met the same fate, so I truly hope that your reason is worth it."

"Of course it is!" Lucio exclaimed, happy that the attention finally focused on him, "If we kill Gods, then everyone would be forced to become an atheist, and the only person that they could worship would be me!"

Everyone took a moment of silence to think through his preposterous statement. Julian and Portia tried to muffle their laugh, while Vugora, who finally got the ability to talk again stayed silent.

"Well, I mean," the old man started, "I guess it's not that bad. There wouldn't be any cultist attacks anymore..." he stayed silent after that statement as he, slowly this time, took a sip of the drink. Once he had drunk it all, he stood up, "Well, thank you, my children, for the drink, in return, I offer you the map to three of twelve artefacts that you'll need to kill a god."

"Wait, what are we supposed to do after we got them?" Volta asked as she chewed on a sandwich with excitement in her eyes. She was certainly enjoying this a lot more than she had expected to.

In response, the sorcerer chuckled, but this time, there was something odd in his voice, "Oh, please, only two people have gotten all three of the artefacts," after that bold statement, he seemed to have realised that he might have sounded a bit too dark, so he changed the tone, giving the group a warm smile, "But I'm sure that you could get them. Oh, ho, ho, after all, there is eleven of you, I'm sure some of you could be lucky enough."

With that, he dropped them a scroll and slowly walked towards the exit. "So," you said, "What will you do with the scroll?"

"Read it, obviously," Valerius responded, trying to sound as though he was bored.

"Alright. Nadia, you have opened the scroll, however, you can't understand anything it's written. However, you Valdemar seem to understand it. It's written in Infernal."

"Very well, then," they extended a hand to Nadia, "Give me the scroll."

"Um," she looked at you, as you gathered fog in your hands, forming a scroll with some unreadable words to her, but, when she handed it to Valdemar, they seemed to be able to read it. They didn't read it aloud, instead, they simply rolled their eyes.

"Come on, read it already!" Valstomil demanded.

"Very well then," they started reading a scroll, with a dull voice"Hot elf moms in your area are looking for a good time. No need for a pouch, they just want your big-"

"WRONG SCROLL, WRONG SCROLL!!!" the sorcerer rushed into the tavern, snatching the scroll, replacing it with a lot older one, a bit ripped at the side.

Everyone, excluding some burst into laughter. Portia's face has gotten so red that Julian laughed even louder, pointing at her, even though he didn't look any better. Asra tried to hold in the laugh, knowing that this is not the joke they should laugh at, while Muriel innocently asked Volta what was the big thing elf moms wanted. Neither one of them knew the answer, so they asked Vulgora, who gladly responded with: "Elves want the di-" they stopped as soon as they saw the Countess' disapproving look.

"I swear if this one is also a 'wrong scroll' I'm leaving," Valerius said.

"Alright, alright," you said, a bit disappointed that not everyone enjoyed the joke as much as you did, "Here you go, Julian" you handed him another scroll.

He took it and, with a bit of scepticism, started reading in a dramatic voice, accenting a random word that he found interesting: "The first artefact is Abaddon's dagger. It lies untouched in the Saint Milu's church, slowly rusting away, waiting for its owner to return, or perhaps, for another champion worthy of them..." he stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath and asked in a normal tone: "So, how was that?"

"Perfect Ilyushka!" Portia said with a smile, "You can read the scrolls from now on!" she shifted her gaze to you, "So, how are we supposed to find that dagger?"

"I don't know," you sulked into your seat, "You're supposed to think of an idea," you slowly straightened your posture, "But, if you get stuck, I guess I will help you out."

"Shouldn't we go ask some people about that church?" Volta asked as she bit on cherry cheesecake.

"That seems to be the best option," Nadia concluded, "Then, let's go, shall we?"

Before they left, Julian took a d20 and said with a smirk, "I roll sleight of hand check to see if I can steal some money from that dude drinking beer," he pointed at some random guy sitting next to the exit.

"Alright," you said, "Go on."

He put the dice in between his hands, pretending to pray and rolled it. The dice hit Volta's plate, to which she flinched, and then finally, the dice stopped. It rolled on 16.

"Yeah, you succeeded," you started as you grabbed some popcorn, "You took a little pouch, containing 2gp."

"I walk to the gentleman and inform him that his pouch has been stolen by this terrible man," Valerius said with a sly grin as he sipped his wine.

"Dude NO!" Julian shouted.

Before you could determine the outcome you turned to see if Valerius is still sure about his decision, to which he simply nodded. Amused by the way this is going so far, you said: "Well, you've told the man about the stolen money," you shifted your hands up, moulding the fog to your imagination, then continued talking in a masculine voice, "That rascal! Thank you, my man, at least some of this youth is still polite," the man stood up, walked to Julian, slapped him right across the face and took the old pouch from his hands, "How disrespectful, did your mother teach you that?!?!"

Asra giggled like a highschooler while Muriel looked amused as he listened to Volta commenting about how, if he were to steal her food, she would have given him more than just a slap.

"Roll a d20 to see how bad the imprint looks," you took the d20 that still laid next to Volta's plate to Julian. This time, he didn't do anything fancy, instead, he just rolled it expecting to get some low number.

"Natural twenty," you snorted, hiding your face in your hands from laughter, "Oh my god," you felt your face getting redder and redder from the lack of oxygen, "Yeah, that will defenetely leave a mark," you shifted the fog towards Julian's face, imprinting a red handprint across his left cheek.

"You look like a fucking idiot!" Vulgora laughed their ass off, pointing at Julian's face.

"Serves you right for doing such a crime!" Vlastomil added, along with Volta who just nodded in approval, too busy with eating to respond.

"Was it really necessary for you to be a snitch, consul?" Nadia asked, "After all, I believe that the point of the game is to do anything you want."

Valerius, in response, gave an ironic smile, lowering his head as if he were to bow, "But countess, I am simply acting according to my," he raised his sheet, "Alignment."

"Can we beat our teammates?" Portia asked.

"Why not," you smiled, still thinking about Julain's scar.

"Okay, so, consul," Portia turned to Valerius, "If you decide to be a snitch again, " she put her hand on Asra's shoulder, "We will beat you up!"

"Just take all of his possessions and give it to the poor if he likes helping so much," Muriel commented as he peeled lemon as if it were an orange.

"Muriel," Portia walked to him and gave him the tightest hug she could, "You're a genius! MC, give him 50gp for such a brilliant idea!"

"Sorry, but I can't," you shifted in your seat as you arranged some of the papers, "But I can continue with the story!"

"Finally, I was getting bored," Valdemar said, "When can I summon the dead?"

"When you reach the third level, I believe," you gave them a quick response and then continued talking about the campaign, "So anyway, you leave the tavern with Julian. who is still dazed by the slap-"

"You'll make this a permanent scar, won't you?" he asked as he pointed at his face.

"Of course I will. So, you left the tavern and noticed a bleeding beggar on the side, what do you do?"

"Valerius, this is your chance!" Asra said mockingly.

"Can we help them?" Volta asked, looking at the fog, "She looks like she hasn't been eating for days!"

"They're bleeding and you're caring about that," Lucio turned to Volta, then to others, "Why should we do anything? MC is probably just messing with us."

"Like with that scroll!" Vlastomil agreed.

"Do they have anything valuable that we could take?" Valdemar asked.

"Oh, I'm glad you're finally getting the hang of roleplaying, quaestor, but no, they don't have anything useful."

"Hm," the quaestor was silent for a moment, then they responded with a gleam of delight in their eyes, "I need components for my spells, no?" they didn't give you the time to respond, "While she may not have any valuables, she still has bones, doesn't she?"

"Valdemar no!" Nadia said.

"Why not, after all, the point of the game is to do anything you want, isn't it?" Valerius, said, still a bit salty.

"Shut up, all of you!" Portia said as she slammed her hands on the table, which made you flinch, "At this point, she'll bleed to death! Julian do something!"

"Why me?"

"Because you have Cure wounds! Use it to heal her!"

"But then I'll spend my slot."

"BuT tHeN I'lL sPeNd mY sLoT," she said as she mimicked him, "I don't care, do it, or else I'll give you a matching scar on the other cheek!"

"Fine... I use my spell on the beggar."

"Okay, you succeeded, the beggar is not bleeding, what now?" you asked.

"I give her some of my food rations," Volta said.

"Alright," you changed the fog to show a healed beggar with some food in front of her, "You've helped her, congrats, but she doesn't say anything, instead, she just stares at you."

"Let's just keep going," Asra said, "We've done enough."

"I agree, let's go for that dagger!"

"But we don't know where it is," Vlastomil said.

"Let's just snoop around then," Portia said with a smile.

"You're in a town," you pointed at the fog which showed their PC's walking around the village, "What now?"

"We ask the NPC's if they know where that church is," Asra said as his PC walked to one woman, "Excuse me, do you know where..." he stopped for a moment to think, " Saint Milu is?"

"Why I do," she said, "But, are you sure you want to go? It's very dangerous."

"Of course we do!" Vulgora added, "Nothing is too dangerous, you're just making a fuss over nothing!"

"Well, if you're so confident, then if you do go there and return alive, I'll tell my dad and he'll reward you."

"Um...sure?" Asra said, a bit reluctant.

"But I need proof that you were there!"

"Sure, what do you want?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" she pouted, "I've never gone there myself. I told you it's too dangerous, remember?"

"Alright, alright, we'll bring you a battle trophy, just tell us where to go, goddammit!" Vulgora said, clearly losing their patience.

"Alright, alright, sheesh," she said, "Just go north from the city's shop. It's the last house in the village, just straight forward," she extended her hand in front of herself, "You can't miss it!"

"Thank you," Julian said, "By the way, has anyone ever told you you look dazzling?"

"Why thank you, " she smiled, "Too bad I can't say the same for your face," she giggled and went her way.

"OH MY GOD!!!" Portia snorted, unable to sustain the laughter.

"You'll keep doing this to me, won't you?" Julian asked defeated.

You nodded and continued., with the narration: "You've walked to the small shop. Do you want to stop by to buy some things?"

All of them agreed and went inside.

"Oh, travellers, I haven't seen any of them in a while. Greetings, greetings, how may I help you," he turned to Vlastomil and Valdemar's PC, to which he immediately shouted, shaking in fear, "Oh GOD, please, please don't kill me! I don't have any valuables, nor do I have much money, plus I'm not tasty, see?" he pointed at himself, "I'm only skin and bone! I barely have anything to feed my son with, please, please spare me!"

"Um, sir," Nadia said, "We are not here to kill you... we just want to buy something."

"You do?" the man straightened himself, grasping at Nadia's hands with tears of joy, "Oh thank you, thank you! I thought this was going to be the last day of my life! Please, ask for anything that you need!"

"Do you have healer's kit?" Volta asked.

"Why I certainly do, my dear," the shopkeeper responded, "That'll be 7gp."

"But isn't the price for that 5gp?" Portia asked.

"It is," the shopkeeper said, "However, I had to buy this in the town and to go all the way to here. Plus I'm also the only shopkeeper in all of the nearby villages."

"Could you give us a special price," Julian asked, "After all we are the adventurers, so we'll surely buy many things!"

"Are you buying the healer's kit for him, dear?" he asked Volta, "I doubt that will be enough to help him," before Julian could protest about the rude comment again, the shopkeeper clapped his hands and said, "But I sure know what could help you!" he bowed down and took a little bottle, "Mommy's kiss!"

"Mommy's kiss?"

"Yes, mommy's kiss is a powerful cream that can clear your skin from any acne, blackheads and, most importantly, scars! Suitable for any race and any skin type! My son loves it!"

"If that's the only thing that will remove this scar, then sure. How much for Mommy's kiss?"

"Well, this is a rare cream that can remove any skin imperfection, but for you, my fine gentleman, I'll lower the price to 200 gp!"

"Two hundred gold pieces for that tiny bottle!?!"

"Well, it is Mommy's kiss, after all."

"Sorry, but I'll have to pass."

"But I'll take the healer's kit," Volta said.

"And I'll take five arrows," Portia said.

"Why does the Great axe cost 30gp?!?" Lucio asked.

"But I only have 10!!!" Vulgora said, "How can we get the money?!?"

"Well, if you go to the Saint Milu, you'll get some money," you said.

"Ughh, fine..."

"Excuse me, sir," Valdemar leaned to the shopkeeper who nervously sweated, "Do you, by any chance, sell bones of the humanoids?"

"Eek!" the shopkeeper said.

"Okay, so, Valdemar, the shopkeeper is terrified of you," you started, "Because of that, you have an advantage on rolling intimidation check. So if you want to force them to give you something, feel free to try."

"Oh, how fun," Valdemar's eyes glowed with joy, "Are there any scrolls here?"

"I, I do have some scrolls," he said, visibly shaking.

"I'll take the one with the inflict wounds spell," they said.

You threw two d20 at them, "Roll them, the AC is 15."

They rolled the dice, where one dice landed on 4 while the other one on 14.

"Is your intimidation at least +1?"

They took a glance at the skills table and gave you a toothy grin.

"You got the scroll, however, the shopkeeper told you to get out or else he'll call the guards."

"Too bad. Looks like you're not going to get Mommy's kiss, Ilyushka!"

"Fear not, we're going to find you Mommy's kiss in some other shop," Lucio said, laughing mid-sentence.

"So, because Muriel has a keen mind feat, he leads all of you north."

"You go Muri!" Portia cheered.

"...Thanks."

Read the whole chapter here

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #287

“keep him tied - it makes him well / he’s getting better, can’t you tell?”

What are you favorite things to watch on YouTube? I like a pretty big variety now. I’d say I’ve been mostly into pet YouTubers lately, especially reptile ones. Oh, and WoW stuff. Can you pick out any constellations in the sky without looking them up online? Besides the Little or Big Dipper (idk which is which), nope. Are you religious? If so, what influenced you to start believing God? If you’re not religious, what convinces you there is no God? I wouldn’t call myself religious, no. I do believe there’s some kind of ultimate power, but hell if I know what it is, and I don’t actually worship it. I don’t believe any “good” god would demand kissing its feet in order for you to end at peace, among a billion other reasons. I believe there is something though because the odds of life and everything is just… too perfect. Plus I believe in the paranormal, so to me, there is obviously something beyond the mortal form. Is there any animal out there that genuinely terrifies you? Is this an animal you’re worried about coming across in daily life? I am terrified of ticks and parasites in general. They’re fucking disgusting. Maggots will also make me scream. Oh, and then there’s whale sharks. In my daily life, I wouldn’t say there’s any that I actively worry about crossing paths with. When was the last time you wore make-up? Around Halloween when Summer, me, and another of her friends did a witch-themed photoshoot. It really fucking sucks that it was so dark by the time we were done that the pictures came out absolutely awful. You can’t see shit, and of course on camera, I look absolutely awful. Have you ever worn colored contacts? No, but I’m totally not opposed for a cool photoshoot. Have you seen any of the Disney re-makes (eg. Aladdin or The Lion King)? What do you think of them? I’ve seen a good number, and I really like them. I think The Jungle Book remake was the best of them. How long did it take you to pass your driving test once you started learning how to drive? Ha, I still haven’t tried. When was the last time you went out for a formal occasion or event? Do you remember what you wore? Uhhhh… I have zero clue. Well, does my last job interview count? I just wore black sweatpants and some kind of formal top. How often do you have the TV on? is it more background noise or are you actually watching things? Y’all know by now that I don’t watch TV. Do you like any songs by Elvis Presley? Well of course. “Devil In Disguise” is my favorite. Do you ever answer the phone to unknown numbers? Nope. Do you eat anything special for breakfast on Christmas Day? Nah. When you go to theme parks, what’s your favorite type of ride? I haven’t been to a theme park in beyond forever, so idk. Are you afraid of falling in love? Ohhhhh yes. Expecting something to change in the next month? No. e_e What is your biggest worry in life right now? That Mom’s cancer will come back. Well, it IS going to eventually flare somewhere else, but no one can estimate when. Could be tomorrow. Could be years. Do you give up easily? It depends. With a lot of things, honestly, yes, because I get upset with my incompetence. What are you listening to? "Going To Hell" by The Pretty Reckless just came on. Is anything bothering you right now? Always. Were you ever made fun of? Yes. Are you currently jealous? I’ve been having episodes of it. Do you find piercings attractive on the opposite sex? I find them attractive on almost all people. Who was the last person you yelled at? I don’t know. Probably Mom. What do you say a lot? “Mood,” “lmao,” “can’t relate,” “same,” “oof,” “yikes,” shit like that, haha. What is your favorite place you have traveled? Chicago. Do you like ice cream? Yeah, that’s my comfort food. Do you like bananas? Yeah, but I don’t dare to eat one if I haven’t had my heartburn medication, because otherwise I get it BADLY. Do you like Paramore? A handful of their songs, yeah. I don’t know a lot though, honestly. Do you plan on getting married? It’d be nice. Ever been given a promise ring? No. Sexual orientation? Bi. Who do you text the most? Definitely Sara. Do you still talk to the person who hurt you most in life? Why or why not? No, because he wants nothing to do with me. I don’t blame him. Have you ever given your number to a complete stranger? Um, no. Well, besides in like, job applications. What color is your keyboard? Black. Your mouse? Mostly black, but it does have this crackled pattern that can glow blue or red. Desktop or laptop? I prefer laptops for mobility’s sake. Do you like sweet tea? I hate tea. How much sugar do you put in your tea? ^ Have you ever called someone useless? Wow, no. Do you have a wood or glass dining room table? Wood. Do you tend to get attached easily? HOLY GOD OF FUCK, YES. Is Joe Jonas really hotter than Nick? I haven’t seen either in god knows how long, but I remember I thought Nick was very cute. Favorite flavor pudding? Chocolate is the only kind I’ve enjoyed. Not that I’ve tried a lot. What are three words used in your area/dialect that many other areas/dialects wouldn't be familiar with? Oh, there are most certainly some, but I can’t think of any right now. How do you feel when your partner is talking to an ex? This would depend on a lot of things. What is the most expensive gift you have ever given? Received? Given, I’m really unsure. I answer enough questions sharing that I don’t have my own source of income, so a lot of times, my mom lets me use her money, but there is obviously a ceiling to how much I can use. Received, definitely my Sager laptop Jason got me one year. Do children like you? I’m always surprised that kids seem to… I don’t know how the hell to interact with kids, but parents tend to tell me that they do like me. If you found your child's diary would you read it? What if you found the diary of one of your parents? Hell no would I read that shit. Both deserve privacy. Have you ever stalked or killed a wild animal? Fuck no. Name something you are now prepared to reveal about yourself that you weren't ready to talk about in the past? The state of my virginity. Name a talent someone has of which you are jealous: I am soooo envious of talented and actually successful photographers. What would you most likely complain about in a hotel? Probably if the bed sheets seemed dirty. Is it possible to be in love with more than one person at the same time? Probably. I’m monogamous though, so I really can’t say because I haven’t experienced this. Do you often feel pressured by others? Society, yes. Should couples live together before marriage? I feel that it’s the better decision, yes. You may not blend well actually sharing the same house. You learn things about your partner. How would you feel attending the wedding of an ex? It would depend on the person. Girt or Sara? I would love to. As a matter of fact, I better be invited lmao. Jason? I couldn’t in ten trillion years. Fiction or nonfiction. I strongly prefer fiction. Can you can lie with a straight face? Yes, if it’s something little. Name three things you have experienced that would shock your parents: Probably just sexual stuff. Do you believe in using the silent treatment? No. I’ve sure done it before, but I’d like to think I’ve grown out of this. Communication is where it’s at. Your most embarrassing thought: *shrug* Your most prejudiced thought: I don’t know. I don’t think I’m very prejudiced. A shameful moment for you: The situation w/ Joel. The biggest gamble of your life: Deciding to drop out of college the last time. Who knows if that was a good choice or not… It’s too early to tell. What is your greatest weakness as a friend? Idk off the top of my head, but I’m sure there’s something. Do you feel better when you have a tan? Nah, I like being pale. I did go through a period in HS of using tanning lotion on my legs though because I was self-conscious of JUST how pale they were. Do you sometimes enjoy being mean? ”I don’t think so. Maybe like... in certain contexts. Like being mean in video games can be really fun sometimes, haha. And being a little mean in a kink setting can be fun too.” <<<< This. Are you high maintenance? Definitely not. Has anybody ever told you that you’re too young to be in love? I think my dad has, just indirectly. Did you learn anything from the last BIG mistake you made? Yes. Do you have a favorite brand of shoes? Yeah, Converse. Do you like rollercoasters with big drops? I’m afraid of rollercoasters so have never been on one. Do you have any inside jokes with your parents? Not really. Have you ever thrown a surprise party for somebody? I don’t think so? Do you know who your mom’s favorite singer is? Oh, she’s totally obsessed with James Hetfield/Metallica. What year were you born in? 1996. What is your favorite card game? Magic: The Gathering, even though I was never great at it or totally understood all the rules. I just adore the artwork, and I like the detailed tactics behind it. Have you ever tried to surf? Nah. Do you want to learn? Nah. Have you ever had a song dedicated to you? What was it? Let’s not with this. What color eyes does your best friend have? Brown. Have you ever been on a blind date? Nah. Which one of your family members do you wish you could see more often? My brother and his son. I got really close to my nephew the last time they visited for a few days. What room in your house is the messiest? Right now, the extra bedroom that I want to make my dayroom. A lot of our “extra” stuff is just shoved into there. Have you ever requested a song on the radio? No. Are you proud of your parents? Yes. Have you ever (accidentally or not) set off a car alarm? I think I accidentally have before. Do you have dimples when you smile? Yes, way more prominently on my left cheek though. Do you find graveyards scary? No. They’re peaceful to me. Have you ever carved anything into a tree? I don’t think so. Do you read those celebrity gossip magazines? Ew, no. Celebs deserve privacy. Do you give or get advice more often? Well considering I’m in therapy, probably get. Did the last type of shoes you wore have laces? No. Do you like the picture on your license/I.D. card? FUCK no. When was the last time somebody hit on you? Idr. Which one of your friends do you feel most comfortable around? Sara. What’s your favorite Thanksgiving food? Just pass me the rolls lmao. Who did you last spoon with? My cat lmao. What was the last video game you played? I don’t recall the last console game I played, so does World of Warcraft count, even tho it’s a computer game? When you’re in trouble, do your parents ever “middle name” you? Ha, my mom will sometimes. Does getting sweaty or dirty bother you at all? If so, has it ever put you off doing exercise? Very much so. I suffer (and I DO mean “suffer”) from insane hyperhidrosis, so I sweat my ass off if I so much as twitch, if even that. I just hate feeling gross. Have you ever thought about how you want to spend your retirement? No, honestly. It’s hard for me to imagine even *getting* to retirement. Would you describe yourself as healthy? Why or why not? No. I’m physically and even more mentally not okay. Do you miss anything about being a teenager? If you are a teenager, what’s your favorite thing about it? Yeah, some things. Though I really don’t even want to think about it. I look back on me being a teen with both wistfulness as well as bitterness. I don’t know which is stronger.

[elejahfanfic]

The Vampire Files/1

Fanfiction

Part 1

AU crossover story

Elena  Gilbert and Nick Amaro are FBI agents, investigating paranormal activity and all different strange cases involving demons, witchcraft, vampires.

There will be other tvd/to characters in it. All of them and they will all have different roles, completely different than those on TVD/TO and some Law&Order svu characters like Olivia Benson.

As always- love plays a great part too!

I hope you enjoy this story- as always thanks for reading. xoxo

@miguelsbrat​

a/n: blame this one me still watching Law&Order svu and other shows  like Penny Dreadful, City of Angels. And been rewatching X files and - cuz I can’t get enough of Nick, the detectiveguapo.  😊

****

Elena Gilbert extended her condolences to her partner's wife.

"I am so sorry", the Agent said,"Jackson was a really good man."

"Yes, he was."Freya said numb. Elena could see in the woman's eyes that she still blamed her for her husband's death. To tell her that she was going to do everything to avenge her partner was not appropriate at that moment. Elena just nodded as a goodbye to the woman and walked off.

To be a Special agent of the FBI was a tough job. Death was everywhere. A daily occurrence. She has seen the most heinous crimes in the seven years she had been with the Bureau, and although she looked like she was stoned faced and nothing much moved her, she hid a very warm and tormented heart under the made up facade. The picture of Jackson with his heart ripped out kept lingering in her head and although she tried to block it with her usual methods of removing herself from the pain, it still was so vivid and it made her contemplate leaving her job altogether.

****

At the FBi HQ- the Executive Assistant Director stood up greeting Special agent Nick Amaro offering him a seat. The Agent  sat down ready to listen why he was brought in taken away from a case he was investigating. The two men obviously knew each other well, but still there was a certain coldness that made this meeting a very brief affair.

"It is the extension of the X-files, you are familiar with I know. Elena Gilbert, your new partner, has been working on it for the last two years. I believe you have heard that she had lost her partner two weeks ago."

"I have. And I suppose you are assigning me to the X-files?!" Nick said with no particular emotion.

The EAD passed him the file Elena and Jackson were working on adding a simple yes.

"That is all, I guess." the Agent  said taking the folder standing up.

"This is off record" Rafael Barba said. "Just so you know, you were not reassigned because of the shooting. We thought that agent Gilbert would need someone with your expertise."

"Is that all?" Nick sais standing up, ready to leave.

The man just nodded and with that Nick left the office. He wasn't particularly surprised at the reassignment. And it had all to do with the shooting. Him losing his cool for a moment was something he knew he would pay severely. He took his phone and pressed the speedial.

*********

Meanwhile

Elena walked in her office. Another agent was waiting for her to leave the last forensic data she had received.

"Wasn't expecting you here today." Olivia said as she handed her the file over.

Elena sat down at her desk. "If I work and get Jackson's killer then I am useful. I just couldn't be there any longer or go the house. Freya still blames me. And maybe she is right. This is all my fault."

        "Come on. He was a professional. And you were in far worse situations before." Olivia said.

"We should have done it differently. Like all the the text book stuff got lost on the way. I don't know. I am playing it over and over in my head at what moment the investigation went so out of hand. I will almost believe he was cursed. Like that voodoo priest said." Elena lamented.

The women were interrupted by the knock on the door and a man walking in greeting them politely as he introduced himself, "Hello. Agent Nick Amaro. I've been assigned to -  I’m your new partner."

Elena stood up looking at him nodding a little. She knew that eventually someone would be assigned to take Jackson's place, "Gilbert -uhm, this is Olivia Benson, FSS ( Forensic Science Service)"

Olivia welcomed the Agent and then excused hersel, leaving the Agents.

Elijah looked around at a very small office. with the most strangest posters and a board of It felt like he was demoted. But it actually it didn't matter. They would be out in the field lot more than in his place. He walked over to the desk that was set exactly opposite from Elena's. It was still cluttered with Jackson's things and notes, other personals stuff, like the photo of his wife.

"Yes. I have not yet come to clearing it up. It will be done today." Elena said standing up, taking the photo off the desk and collecting the notes jotted on the papers scattered on it.

“I know how it feels.”Nick inhaled softly.  He remembered his own loss. Losing a partner is one of the hardest things, as this person is more than a friend. Someone you put your lives in hands on a daily basis, especially in their line of the work. He knew of her, seeing her in the building numerous times, and always wondered how someone like her got to work with the Bureau. 'She is tough as nails' Rollins said to Nick once as they had heard of a case a kidnapping of a little girl being solved by her and Jackson a year before.

"Nick Amaro - Ah, I remember now. You worked on the cold cases, and then with the Jeffersonian. Here it is about monsters and paranormal. Voodoo, witchcraft, demons. Take your pick."

"I heard you have PhD in demonology?!" Nick said.

"Did you not read my resume. Anyway, how do you stand on that?" Elena shot back.

"Demons? am here to investigate criminal activities. I had a fair share of twisted cases."

"Twisted cases, ha?" Elena said not so happy his take on it.

"Maybe not a clever choice of words." Nick corrected himself seeing the deadly look she gave him.

"Maybe." Elena said. "so, I guess you read the file?!"

"I did. Actually skimmed through it. I heard also that another body was found in Virginia, Mystic Falls." Nick said.

"Yes. All drained of blood. No markings on the obvious places, suspecting vampire activity."

"Vampire activity?" Nick said with a surprise in his voice.

"Yes," Elena replied,"File under the number 88. Vampires, beings from who subsists by feeding on the life essence, generally in the form of blood, of living creatures. "Oh, I guess they will finally send someone down to install your own computer. We are here like non-existent as you can see. It's like weird doesn't really is real."

"Agent Benson brought the forensics in? Nick now asked to change the mood.

Elena handed the latest update sheet to him."There."

As soon as he entered the room she noticed a certain assurance and command in his demeanor. He was about the work. There was no reason for her to act so defensively towards him. She knew very well that someone would be assigned to take Jackson's place. But, his appearance made the reality that Jackson was gone for good absolute. And it was harsh. Jackson's dead face came back to her and suddenly went pale.

Nick noticed the change in her. "Gilbert, are you all right?"

"Fine." Elena replied coolly, obviously trying to hide the pain.

"No, you're not. And it's perfectly acceptable. You are allowed to grieve."

Elena just put a small dismissive smile on as if thanking him for his truthful concern, but she was not ready for anything personal yet, so she overrode the moment and continued to talk about the case.                  

Nick listened, letting her brief him fully. It was clear that there was vulnerability under the facade of a woman made out of steel. He listened to her like in a trance. Everything about her captured his soul from the moment he walked into the office. This he could not deny, although he ignored it.

*****

Elsewhere

Rebekah walked in the diner, and sat down at the table at the end, taking her phone out, reading a message. The waitress came around with the cup of coffee, serving her, "Bad day?"

Rebekah thanked her for the coffee and replied, "I had worse."

The waitress left and she put the phone aside and looked out. It was still raining. There were days one wish they could be erased altogether. This was one of these days for Dr Rebekah St. Claire. She looked at her finger, where once a diamond ring was.

Flashback "I can't do this Bex. And it's noz because I don't love you. But, I am not myself. Everything inside of me is about the kidnapping. You've seen me. I could have hurt you yesterday. I can't. Let's call this all off" Marcel said.

"Please- we can do therapy- together. You can't just- go-" Rebekah said tearing up feeling like someone had kicked her in the guts.

Marcel felt the same- and looking at her so cut made his psychosis brew up wanting to set the world on fire for having messed with him.

”I can't” he slipped and walked out of the room.

Her attention was soon diverted by her friend Caroline, who sat down opposite from the doctor.

"Hey" Caroline just said without adding anything else. She knew all about her fiance's trouble.

"It hurts. And - you know what today is?"

"Yes. Would have been W-day"

"And look at it- pissing down with rain," Rebekah said, "maybe it is telling me something."

"I know this sounds like a cliche- but it will get easier" Caroline said.

"Not till I know that he is healed - somehow"

"You still blame yourself - the kidnapping had nothing to do with you" Caroline tried to comfort her friend.

"Come on, Caroline, we know it's not true. I had the evidence."

"And you could not give them - we don't negotiate with criminals" the blonde reminded her.

"No-" Rebekah said pensively.

Caroline's phone buzzed and she answered it-

"Klaus?- No. Still waiting the evidence to be released. Yeah- Later"

"You still hate his guts?" Rebekah now remarked "Pretty much. Hate having to work as his deputy" Caroline said.

"But since he was appointed as DA things are getting done- and you rock as a team"

"Can we not talk about him and work. Pie?" Caroline suggested.

Rebekah  nodded as in yes, please.

********** At the FBI HQ

Nick was left reading Elena's notes from the File 88 - as she was called away to the Field Director.

He tried to cross-reference the data with the present case. Everything indicated that Elena was right. This murder was very much related to these mythical creatures.

A knock at the door made Nick look up as a man entered asking for Elena.

"Hi. Elena?" the man said, obviously inquiring for her whereabouts.

"Out," Nick said simply,"you are?" He knew who the man was, but he still wanted formal introduction, "Agent Salvatore, Stefan."

"Nick Amaro" the Agent replied turning away from the file.

"You"re her new partner?!"' Stefan cocked an eyebrow at the Agent.

"I am." Nick replied adding,"leaving a message?"

"No. I will call her later. See you" Stefan said and exited the office.

Nick returned to reading the file when his phone buzzed.

"Third body appeared in the woods," Elena informed him, “I’m outside.”

Swiping the call off, he put his coat on and went out.

*******

Elsewhere

Caroline walked in the pub called 'Georgetown' putting down her bag on the bar stool next to Stefan.

"What are you having?" Stefan asked.

"The same as you." Caroline said."it stopped raining."

"It did. I went to see Elena. She got a new partner." Stefan informed his friend.

"So, she did?! Who is it?"

"Nick Amaro" Stefan said.

"Right." Caroline said."I tried to call her. Today was Jackson's funeral. She hasn't answered any of my calls yet."

"She has just sent me a message that she is going to be out of town for a few days. The case." Stefan updated the attorney.

"She is allowed time off, but she has not taken one day off," Caroline said,"one day she will come crushing down."

"Not until this case is over and they find Jackson's killer." Stefan said."But even then she might just sweep it under the mental carpet."

Caroline now took the Bourbon that was served- and inhaled sharply.

*******

Three and a half hours later, Elena and Nick arrived in Mystic Falls. Although it was quite late, Elena wanted to see the Sheriff and get a brief update.

"Sheriff Donovan? Elijah said.

"Yes," Matt said,"come to my office."

Elena and Nick followed the Sheriff in. As they recieved the report, Elena asked when she could see the body. And of course it was first thing in the morning.

“Right.” Elena muttered and then asked if there was anywhere they could grab something to eat.

"The Grill. It’s the best place if you like home made type of food." Matt said.

"Pie - I actually really need some pie." Elena said.

“They served the best pie in all of Virginia” the Sheriff replied putting his hat on. “I’m on my way there, too.”

Soon, Elena and Nick were at the Grill with a burger and a slice of apple pie each.

After taking a bit of the pie, Elena seemed to change into a different person, making Elijah say, "Lack of sugar?"

"I think better when I had something sweet.” Elena said raising her eyebrow at her new partner.

Nick looked at her as if taking notes.

"Ready for the vampire hunt?"

"Excuse me?"

"Everything you said on the way here makes perfect sense, but trust me everything will defy logic." Elena said.

She spoke as if she already knew that they would be tapping in the dark, and there was a whiff of darkness from her heart kicking at him. A strange kind of resignation. It was not that particular case, it was clear to him that she was talking about Jackson's case.

"Agent Salvatore is on Agent Kenner's case?!" Nick then said.

Elena nodded with a small bitter smile.

How, why- at that moment he wished he could take the pain away from those stone cold dark eyes.

Come out while the rain is gone Slow down breathing on your road And the world keeps spinning around while we dive in it And the world is . in stone leaving marks on our skin

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, miss-shiva-adler!

For @miss-shiva-adler. Darling! This is my way of wishing you a Merry Christmas! I am equally happy and disappointed because this story was not what I had in mind for you, but no matter how much I tried to write the one I wanted, I just couldn't. On the other hand... I'd like to believe I brought my A game out with this story. I'd also like to apologize in advance if this isn't your cup of tea after all. I genuinely feel like I was testing limits here and bending rules there and all I can hope at this stage is that I didn't end up crossing the line I've been tiptoeing in the next 7,000 (or so) words. Once again, I wish you Merry Christmas!

Hello people! First of all, thank you for even considering giving this story a chance! <3 I would like to warn everyone, that this fic is DARK. The tags are not there for the crack, please don't take them lightly. Also, I’m not sure how this happened. This is not how this was supposed to go, in all honesty.. I have no idea what just happened. But it did. All in all, this fic is bloody brilliant in my humble opinion, so if the tags and my warning was still not enough to scare you away... then be my guest!

Read On AO3

*****

The Last of Us

”If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.”

- Orson Welles, The Big Brass Ring

He stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide in fear as he stared at the man in front of him.

He felt his heart beating in his throat, a fast, erratic thumping as fear clutched at his heart, squeezing the air out of him in a shaky breath.

He looked into the familiar golden amber eyes and knew that it was over.

His eyes moved to the gun pointed at him, cold and deadly as the man moved his finger, resting it on the trigger.

28 days ago…

He woke up with a dull headache, a thumping behind his eyelids, growing stronger and stronger with each blink. He groaned as he sat up, eyes taking in his surrounding but seeing nothing familiar.

The small room he was in, was rather simple. The walls were painted in white, bare around him, lacking any personal touch, not even a picture or a photograph. The bed was comfortable, a very simple single bed with white sheets and covers and a lone pillow. He glanced down at the bedside table and picked up the clock placed on top. The analogue digits showed that it was exactly 07:00 am. His eyes landed on a sink right next to a door before he spotted a small round mirror above it.

He frowned as he pushed himself off the bed, walking slowly towards the mirror, almost afraid of what he would see. He blinked once, twice, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes took in every detail, the way his black hair flopped to the side, soft strands falling onto his forehead. He stared into his own eyes in the mirror glass, trying to identify the exact colours of them. They were a mixture of amber and brown with gold flecks. He looked at his small nose, then down onto his cupid’s bow... his thin lips. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips in a nervous gesture. He lifted his hand, touching his cheek, fingers running along his jaw line.

“Who the hell am I?” His voice came out a hoarse whisper, but whether it was due to not using it for a long time or due to the fact he had only woke up now, he didn’t know.

He looked down at his body, he was wearing a simple white trouser and t-shirt with a number 9 printed on the left side of the chest along with a pair of white shoes that somehow reminded him of those cheap, canvas shoes that prisoners would wear.

His eyes widened, shoes and clothes forgotten as a dreadful thought occurred to him. Was he a prisoner?

8

He spent 28 days, stuck in the building with no windows, no doors that would open. Alone.

He wished he could tell where he was, why he was there, but the only thing he ever managed to remember was his own name and even that, took him several days to recall.

The first time it happened, he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or a hallucination. It felt like a memory, familiar and personal. Almost like a glimpse from the past or perhaps a vision, created by his mind, he wasn’t sure.

“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Magnus.” He felt his lips tugging into a smirk as he held a hand out to the other man.

He watched with a little flutter in his heart as suddenly, a bright smile spread across the other’s face, lighting up his hazel eyes before grabbing his hand.

“I’m Alec.”

He wasn’t sure who Alec was, but from that day, he stopped thinking about himself as a number in some kind of system and instead he thought of himself as Magnus.

There were days between the first time and the next and it left him once again with more questions than answers.

He walked slowly up to the wall, phone in his hand as he scrolled through his contacts, stopping on a certain Pretty Boy . He bit his lip before pressing the call button, painted nails shining in the light.

“Hello. Who is this?” He heard a deep voice coming through from the other end and he smiled to himself before answering.

“Alexander, hi. It’s Magnus. We met the other day,”

“Uh, yeah. What’s up?”

“I was just thinking, it was very nice getting to know you.” He said as he walked around in circles, trying to play it smooth. “You seemed…sympathetic.” He blurted before closing his eyes in embarrassment. That was as far from smooth as possible. He picked up a book he was reading the night before, flipping it in his hand as a nervous tick. “Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?” He added, thinking that if his previous words didn’t scare the man away, he might as well go for it.

“That sounds fun.” Came the reply and Magnus stopped fidgeting with the book in his hand, smiling happily.

He still didn’t know who Alec was and couldn’t recall how he got his number, but the fact he liked the other man became very obvious. He spent night after night lying in bed, thinking about him. Was he out there? Was he... missing him? Did he realize he disappeared? Maybe they never managed to go on that date and they never spoke after.

He spent his days in loneliness, walking the endless corridors, looking into room after room, hoping desperately to find anything that could give him answers.

He started to doubt more and more that he was in prison. A prisoner? Maybe. But not in the common sense. There were no guards, no other inmates. He frowned, trying to remember how he knew what a prison was like, but all he managed to achieve was a throbbing headache and some nausea.

He sat in the small, kitchen like room, eating anything he could find and deemed suitable for human consumption. There was enough food in the cupboard for month by the look of it. He wondered when and who put them there, he even stayed awake for two nights, hoping to catch someone coming in, but it turned out to be pointless. No one was coming.

The next time he remembered something about Alec, it became clear that they have had gone on the date and it turned out rather successful.

He felt pump limps pressing against his own, eager and so ready to please. He felt the lips against his, opening slowly, letting his tongue in, meeting it halfway. It made him press his body closer to the other, hands moving to cup his face as they got lost in the kiss.

He kept replaying the memory in his head, occasionally touching his lips with his fingertips.

There were moments when he wondered if Alec was perhaps no more than a trick of his mind, someone created solely to make him feel less lonely. It was a bitter thought. One that sent him to heave above the toilet, stomach turning, throat burning.

They were standing in front of each other and he could see the small signs shoving just how nervous his boyfriend was.

“I was thinking... maybe we could move in. Together.” Alec said in one breath and it took him almost an embarrassingly long time to reply.

“Only if I can have a walk-in closet.” He said seriously but he felt the beginning of a grin tugging at his lips.

“You mean that?” Alec asked with a wide smile, full of happiness, before stepping closer to him.

He was angry. Whoever Alec was... they lived together. So, where was he? He counted the days, and he was there for almost a month, surely, he would realize something was missing in that time. He felt his stomach turning with nausea and his head spinning with all the questions he had with no one to answer them.

He wondered what he could’ve done, making the other man give up on him, forgetting about him.

He systematically explored every inch of the building, pulling everything apart, turning the entire place upside down. He knew well enough that there was nothing to find but it made the anger and fear subdue even if only for a short period of time.

He watched his boyfriend leaning over the pool table with a cocky smirk while he stood motionless, cue in hand as he raised a single eyebrow.

“It’s all about the angles.” His boyfriend explained before pulling the cue back slowly and with a forceful, punctual move, he sent the first ball into the hole. “Like archery.” He added with a smile, turning towards Magnus, motioning for him to go next.

He tried to hide his smile as his boyfriend turned away, taking a quick sip at his drink and he quickly leaned forward, pushing two balls in with ease.

He straightened up, finding his boyfriend staring at him with wide eyes that instantly ripped a laugh out of him.

“Oh darling, did no one ever tell you, that if you can’t find the one being hassled at a pool table, it’s probably you?” He asked.

“Oh, you’re on.” His boyfriend laughed with a shake of his head.”

Magnus was desperate to get out. He went from room to room, wall to wall, pounding and kicking the locked doors until he was out of breath, until his hands were bruised.

Whoever locked him up, made sure that there was no way he could ever get out of this hell hole. There wasn’t a single clue anywhere about what this place was. He hated it. He hated the white walls, the white floor, the tiny number nine on his t-shirt. He hated it all.

He sank down along the wall, back tilted against the cold tiles and took a deep breath. He felt his throat closing up, making it harder and harder to breathe.

Then he heard it. A door opening.

He was on his feet in seconds, the rapid movement giving him a whiplash as he swayed on the spot.

He felt his heart almost beating out of his chest, scared and hopeful at the same time.

He tried to listen to any noise, but he could barely hear anything apart from the buzzing in his ears.

Before he could make his mind up whether to hide or to go and see who was there with him a figure turned at the corner, coming to a halt as he spotted Magnus pressed to the wall.

It took him a minute until he could speak, his eyes strained on the man in front of him as he whispered.

“Alec?”

It seemed to pull out the other from whatever shock he was in, making him blink rapidly as he took a step closer to Magnus.

“Magnus.” He breathed, not a question but a statement. Before Magnus had a chance to do a much as blink, Alec was standing a few feet away from him, hands in the air between them a clear invitation.

“Are you really here?” The man asked with tears in his hazel eyes, making Magnus unable to do anything but nod.

He didn’t know who moved first, but the next moment he found himself between strong arms, his own grasping the man’s t-shirt, holding onto him with everything he had.

7

”You are beautiful.” Alec whispered in the dim light of his bedroom before cupping his face gently, kissing him with love and care. He felt his skin tingling where his fingertips touched, leaving goosebumps in their tracks. They spent hours and hours discovering each other, tangled together in the sheets, breathing and moaning, whispering “I love you”s into the dark.”

Magnus spent the whole day subtly avoiding any eye contact with Alec.

It’s been over a week since they met, and they never left the side of the other ever since.

At the start it was both awkward yet familiar to be around the other man. He felt like he knew him and deep down he knew he did, but having a glimpse of memories of him here and there, didn’t feel enough.

First Magnus hoped that Alec would have more knowledge of their situation, but it turned out that he had even less than what Magnus had. He told him about a few memories he had with him, a dinner night, some walk in the city were they placed a lock on the wall but apart from that, Alec had as much idea about the place or their reason for being there as Magnus.

They spent the next couple of days coming up with possible options from prison to hospital, but it didn’t bring them any closer to find answers.

“Neither of those add up. Not even with the numbers.” He said as he gestured towards the small 9 on Magnus’ t-shirt before he glanced down into his number 4 before continuing with a sigh. “Say we are prisoners, where are the guards? And other inmates? I mean, even if we did something absolutely horrific and were deemed to be the most dangerous criminals of all time, it doesn’t explain the lack of prison system. There aren’t even cameras.” Alec explained. Magnus suddenly remembered a tv-show about two brothers and prison. He couldn’t name it, nor any of the people in it, but from what he knew, Alec was right.

“Yeah, we are definitely not in a hospital either. There are no nurses, no doctors, no other patients. Although the white walls and sterile feeling is definitely there.” Magnus said, getting a nod from Alec.

“Plus, if we were, I’m sure our family would have visited by now.” Alec said quietly.

“You… you remember them?” Magnus heard the words slipping out before having the chance to stop them.

Alec shook his head with a humorless chuckle.

“I wish.” He said and looked at Magnus with an odd look.

“What is it?”

“It’s just, strange. I remember things. But I don’t know how. I know things but I can’t remember when or how I learnt about them. The only thing I seem to remember clearly is… well, you.”

“I remember you too.” Magnus said with a smile, before gently touching Alec’s hand.

6

On the good side of things, it helped Magnus to get to know Alec a bit better and to learn about him; like how he woke up super early, how he would spend hours to do push-ups and god knows what each day, that rolling his eyes seemed to be his default reaction to anything and everything, that his whole face lit up when he smiled, that his voice was always a few octaves deeper in the mornings, he also blushed on cue and stuttered when he was embarrassed, but was still charismatic, even authoritative on occasions which somehow always made Magnus’ knees weak.

Alec has been there for a lot longer than Magnus. He wasn’t sure in days, he lost track of the days after he reached one hundred and Magnus tried his absolute best not to dwell on that information or try to guess at which point will he lose the track of days.

The man was blunt and honest but not in a rude way. He also made jokes that were a tad bit too sarcastic but with no heat behind them. He was also caring and paid attention to everything that Magnus said and to the things he didn’t. He seemed to sense when Magnus wanted to be alone, leaving him to himself without trying to engage him in a conversation. He also spotted where Magnus felt unable to stay still and then they went for a walk, observing the place where Alec was staying until now. The part of the building Alec was in, seemed a lot bigger than his own. Maybe even three times of its size. It turned out that the door separating the two parts of the building could be only opened from Alec’s side and since Alec has spent majority of his days in the opposite corner, the furthest from where Magnus was, he never heard any noise. Not until that one day, when the sound of someone shouting and beating the walls echoed in the entire wing.

Despite the significantly spacious environment on the other side of the door, it seemed to be providing no information about their situation.

In fear of being separated again, or in Magnus’ case, waking up to loneliness realizing that Alec was nothing more than a dream, a hallucination, a mirage he never truly had and could never reach, they spent the nights together, two beds pushed next to each other.

They slept together, but save for the occasional hugs and comforting touches, they never got closer.

So, waking up one morning with an erection after having erotic dreams about the other, Magnus had no idea what to do.

It was obvious that they were once a couple. They lived together. For all he knew, they might have been married, but Alec never made a move and neither did Magnus.

Hence, Magnus stood in front of the sink, trying to splash some water on his face.

“Are you okay?” Alec asked, voice raspy in the morning as he squinted at Magnus.

“Yeah.” He breathed as he blinked at the man, smiling at the sight of his bed head.

Alec looked exactly like the version in his memories, saved for the slightly longer hair and beard.

They had a shower with cold water and soap, but there was nothing to shave.

The clear lack of anything that could be used to harm others, or even themselves, was both surprising and expected.

Magnus blinked a few times, only realizing that he must have spent this whole time staring at Alec.

Alec gave him a look that he couldn’t exactly decipher. He was frowning but there was no sign of annoyance. It almost seemed as if he was thinking about something, really hard.

He opened his mouth to ask him about it, but before he could do so, Alec jumped out of bed, stopping in front of Magnus with barely a few inches separating them.

The close proximity of the other man brought all the memories of his dream back with a renewed force, vivid pictures of the man, all naked and sweaty flushed before his eyes.

His eyes met a pair of hazel ones, full of hope, want and love and before he knew it, they were kissing.

It was nothing like their first kiss, nor like the one they shared in his memories from last night.

This kiss was like a moment of freedom, a freedom he didn’t know he was desperately yearning for, like a gulp of fresh air after being confined between four walls for so long.

He felt a hand gently touching his face, while the other pulled him closer by his waist and despite the absurdity of their situation, he would not be anywhere else in that moment.

They parted slowly after a handful of minutes, resting their foreheads together as both of them tried their best to catch their breath.

5

A few hours later, Magnus walked slowly, giggling as he raised his hands, trying to feel anything in front of him.

“I’m not gonna walk you into a wall.” He heard Alec’s voice coming from right behind him, his lips almost touching his ear and it sent shivers down his spine.

“I know.” Magnus said with a smile and he meant it. He trusted Alec with his life.

“Okay. I’m gonna move my hands now, but please keep your eyes closed.” Alec instructed before doing as he said, stepping away from Magnus.

He had no idea what Alec was up to, but he disappeared in the kitchen thirty minutes ago or so, and Magnus wasn’t allowed to follow him. Until now.

“Ready? You can look now.” Alec said and Magnus raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of his tone, all of a sudden, he sounded nervous and it only intrigued Magnus’ curiosity.

He opened his eyes, and he felt his mouth parting in surprise.

On the table was a dinner. Probably the most pathetic dinner he ever had, yet the most touching one.

“I know it’s not much; I mean...” Alec gestured with his hand, oblivious to the tears of happiness in Magnus’ eyes.

He shook his head and opened his mouth to explain that it was perfect. That Alec was perfect, but the next moment he felt his breath hitching in his throat and he fell to his knees, his hands grabbing his hair as he groaned in pain.

“Magnus!” Alec shouted and he saw him move towards him as his world shifted, the image blurring in front of his eyes before it changed completely.

He walked onto a balcony and he found the most beautiful candle lit dinner table he’s ever seen. Red rose petals were covering some of the tables as well as the ground. It was dark, starts peppered across the sky, the only light coming from the dozens of candles placed around the balcony, illuminating the small circular table.

“Magnus. Magnus!” He came back to Alec hoovering above him, white as a sheet, concern and worry plastered across his face.

Magnus sat up with a groan, the pain was gone as suddenly as it appeared.

“Oh my-.“ Alec choked before hugging him tightly.

He hugged him back, felt his body trembling under his touch.

“Just a flashback.” Magnus explained with a wave of his hand as he let Alec to pull him to his feet.

“Was it because of the dinner?” He asked with so much guilt in his voice that Magnus shook his head, trying to ignore how he blatantly lied to the other man.

“Of course not.” He said with a smile before pressing a kiss to Alec’s lips, pulling him to the table.

After their ‘date’, the rest of the day passed in a blur as they laid in bed, kissing and smiling at each other and for the first time since Magnus could remember, he felt happy.

Truly happy as Alec pulled him close, his head resting on the man’s chest, his heartbeat steady and calming as they drifted in and out of sleep.

When he woke up, he found the bed next to him empty and his heart skipped a beat.

Alec was gone.

He sat up, head spinning, vision blurring as he fought against the panic crawling up his throat.

“ALEC!” He shouted, panic and fear laced in his voice as he willed his body to move forward.

He felt his legs shaking as he took a step closer to his door, but before he could reach it, it opened with a loud bang, revealing a panting Alec, eyes wide as he scanned Magnus, looking for any sign of injury.

“F…F-Fuck...” Magnus breathed, legs giving out from under him as he collapsed against the bed, hands moving up to cover his face.

“Magnus. What happened? Are you okay?” Alec kneeled in front of him, his hands moving to his, peeling them away softly from his face.

“I woke up and you were gone.” Magnus whispered softly as he looked away from Alec, feeling awfully vulnerable all of a sudden.

“I was... oh Magnus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you w-. I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.” Alec breathed as he pulled Magnus into a hug, one hand caressing his back while the other cupped the back of his neck, allowing Magnus to bury his head in the crook of his neck.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t. You are all I have.” Magnus muttered into Alec’s neck.

“You won’t. I promise. I… I love you Magnus.” Alec said quietly before moving away just enough to look into Magnus’ eyes.

“I love you too, Alec.” Magnus said before pulling him back, hugging him tightly.

“I... found something.” Alec said after a few minutes and Magnus sat up suddenly.

“What?” Magnus asked, trying not to get his hopes up too much, but it was hard considering that after all this time, they finally found something.

Alec walked him to the other end of building, before stopping in front of a door.

Magnus raised an eyebrow, glancing at Alec, not entirely understanding what Alec’s discovery was.

The door was there before too, steel double doors, shut closed at the middle.

They spent half a day previously, trying to get it open with no luck.

Alec glanced as his boyfriend, before removing what turned out to be a panel at the left side, revealing a small pin panel and a handprint scan.

“Oh my god.” He was stunned as he stepped closer, hardly believing to his eyes.

“I haven’t touched it. Not sure what it would do. I wanted to talk to you first.” Alec explained.

“I’m sure it’s like any other PIN pad, and something would definitely happen after three trial, but if it is like one, it also means that it resets after 24 hours.” Magnus explained with a frown, wondering how was he sure about that information being right.

“Okay, let’s say you are right. Still. It’s a four-digit pin. That means 10,000 variations. If we try three each 24 hours, that means we would be here for nine years trying out all of them and that is if it doesn’t block the entire system. Or worse.”

Magnus blinked at Alec for a moment or two.

“Let’s try the scan.” He said with a shrug, before reaching out, just to have Alec catch him by the wrist before he could touch it.

“We have no idea what happens if the scan fails.” Alec said, eyes wide with fear. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of anything worse than spending nine years here.” Magnus said, looking into Alec’s eyes, hoping that the other would understand. They had to try.

After what felt like hours of silently staring at each other, Alec closed his eyes.

“Okay.” Alec said with a sigh. “But let me go first?” He asked and Magnus had to bite his tongue to refrain himself from saying no. After all, it was his idea and he couldn’t back down now, so instead he grabbed Alec’s other hand, intervening their fingers before giving him a firm nod.

He watched as Alec let out a shaky breath before placing his hand on top of the scan.

The screen quickly flashed red. “Access denied.” Before turning black again.

They stood there, unmoving for a long few second, waiting for any kind of consequence.

“Well, no apocalypse.” Magnus said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

He raised his hand, but once again, Alec caught it.

“What if that’s why we are here?”

“What?”

“What if we are the last ones alive?” He asked and Magnus wasn’t sure if Alec was joking or serious for a moment.

“One way to find out.” Magnus said before pressing his hand onto the cold surface of the scanner.

He felt his heart jumping up to his throat as the screen fleshed green with the two words he never truly expected to see. “Access granted.”

4

They simultaneously took a step back, holding onto each other’s hand as the doors opened slowly, revealing another room.

Contrast to the rest of the building, it was rather dark, all steel surfaces.

They looked at each other and he found that everything he could say to the man was already reflecting in hazel eyes.

With a deep breath, they walked in.

Magnus wasn’t sure how, but he knew the purpose of the room as soon as his eyes scanned the room.

They were in some kind of laboratory.

He glanced at Alec and with a nod they parted ways, never losing sight of the other as they explored around. He walked towards with two computers on top, but his eyes were already on the sea of papers, haphazardly scattered across the desk, some of them lying on the floor. Magnus’ eyes widened as he looked at the notes.

There were numerous files on the computer as well as lying around in a mess.

He frowned as he picked up a notebook and his eyes ran over the seemingly random dates and what seemed like symptoms.

06/06/2025 – slurred speech, clear indication of hallucinations, depression 12/07/2025 – weight loss, inability to speak, memory loss – advanced symptoms of CJD 01/09/2025 – entered final stage 28/09/2025 – death

He turned the page and found a continued list of symptoms, all of them assigned to different dates.

He turned to the front and found the first note dated back to 2018. The last one was dated three months ago. He looked at the computer and his eyes caught a series of files, each numbered from 0-9. His eyes landed on nine. He felt his heart beating faster as he moved the cursor over it and tapped it twice to open it.

“What the hell?” The words left his lips in a whisper.

On the screen… was him. His name in big capital letters: MAGNUS BANE. But that was not what shocked him… no… it was the footnote under the name.

Subject number: Nine. Trial: same as subject Four Status: initial stage Information on his blood pressure, blood sugar level along with many more he couldn’t focus on.

He wasn’t speaking loud enough for Magnus to make out the words, but it was audible enough to allow him to pick up on the tenseness in his voice, the nervous tone to his words. Without thinking, he turned away from the computer and rushed to him.

There was someone else with them.

“Alec?” He called out as he stepped into the room and he felt his world shifting, the ground almost slipping from under his foot as his eyes landed on the other man in the room, standing opposite to Alec.

Magnus knew him. His hair was longer, he looked older… but everything else was the same. The small nose, the thin lips, the amber eyes… Magnus looked at himself… but this time not in a mirror... but across from him in the room.

“Hello, Nine. I’m Magnus. Magnus Bane. The real one.” The man said calmly, almost matter-of-factly as he locked eyes with Magnus.

“What do you mean the real one?” Alec asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked between the two men.

“I mean what I said. I am the original Magnus Bane.” The man explained and he raised a hand towards Magnus as he spoke “He is the ninth one.”

“I... I don’t... I can’t...” Magnus stuttered as he took a step back, something nagging at the back of his mind, something that was becoming clearer and clearer since he found those notes, but he couldn’t put a name to it.

“It’s alright. Calm down. There is no need to panic.” The other Magnus said, hands raised in a defensive move as he took a step forward, now standing closer to Alec than Magnus was.

“I don’t understand. Any of this.” Alec said, his eyes flicking between them.

“Oh, Alexander. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” The older man said as he smiled gently at Alec, lovingly even. “I thought you were dead.”

“What?” Alec whispered as he took a step back away from the older man, towards Magnus and it took Magnus everything he had in him to stop himself from reaching out to his lover.

“I mean... you were meant to be dead. A long time ago. The fact that you are here… it’s a miracle... it’s proof that it worked.” The older Magnus smiled happily, tears welling in his eyes as he looked at Alec with such intensity that Magnus almost believed his words.

“What worked?”

“The treatment. I found the cure.”

“The cure for what?” Alec asked once again, and it was becoming clear in his voice that he was close to losing his patience.

“For the disease that killed my husband. My Alexander.”

“What?” Magnus blurted, but now the confusion came a certain kind of dread that settled in his chest, growing bigger and bigger with each passing second.

“I met Alexander when we were both young, in our early twenties. In 2012.” He said with a deep breath and a barely-there smile as he looked at Alec. “We fell in love, fast and hard. One could say that neither of us saw it coming, by the time we realized what he had we were both in too deep. Our love for one another was like no other love out there. We were invincible. Or so we thought. Until Alexander got sick. It started with depression... and for a long time, we thought it was only that. But then... other symptoms came. The dizziness, the headaches, the anxiety, the difficulty to focus… to speak. By the time we realized what the problem was… he was almost at the end of the initial stage. I will never forget the day when we sat in the hospital and the doctor came in to inform us that he had Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease.

There is nothing worse than being told that the man you love more than life itself has a condition that is incurable. That from now on.. they aren’t focusing on treating him and trying to save his life... but instead now we wait�� for the inevitable end. I think a part of us died on that day. The part of us full of plans and hopes for the future. We were just told that we won’t grow old together... that we won’t be here next year... that in a few months... death will do us part. I tried everything. I tried treatment when other doctors refused to treat him. I spent days and nights trying to find a way to save the man I loved. And I failed. I watched him grow weaker and weaker each day... until one autumn morning... he stopped fighting.” Magnus remembered the first notes from 2018 and he felt his breath hitching in his throat as realization slowly settled in.

“The day before he died... I promised him that I will find a way. And I spent the last decade or so, working on keeping my promise. After years of research… I found a way to clone people. I used his DNA I had from previous tests… and I created him. The man I loved. And I couldn’t have been happier. I had Alexander back. But then it started again... the depression... the balance and coordination problems... and less than a year after... I lost him again. To the same disease. The DNA I had from him was after he got sick... so the new Alexander also received the disease… So, I created a new one. He lived for even shorter than the previous one. I realized that this way... I can find a cure. I have someone with the disease... I can do tests and trial treatments… But losing you, over and over again... it killed me. It broke my heart and no matter how many times I watched you leave me... it never got easier... so I decided to create a clone of myself... infect it with the disease... and try to find a cure. The disease in my case was even more peracute. The second one died less than half a month after exposing him to the illness.

I created the last clone of Alexander... over a year ago. When I saw the first signs of the advanced stage... I decided that I can’t watch him die again in my arms... you were meant to die within months. No one with Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease lived longer than a year after the initial symptoms appeared. But you are still here... and you speak...and...”

“You… you cloned me? Us?” Alec asked, voice laced with shock and utter disbelief.

“I had to. It was the only way to be with you again.” The older Magnus said with such softness in his voice that it almost made Magnus believe that it was regret woven into his words.

“How many... clones did you make?” Alec asked and Magnus felt his stomach dropping.

“Nine.” He whispered, his eyes moving down onto the number etched into his t-shirt.

“Yes.” The other man nodded as he looked at Magnus before quickly turning away from both of them. He walked away slowly to the desk. “You see... the first three Alexanders I created passed away quickly... it was after I created you, number four – he said before pointing at Alec’s t-shirt – that I realized I can’t lose you again. So, I created Magnus one, which if we want to be precise was number five. Ninth here was the last one.” He said still not looking at them, only nodding towards Magnus’ direction vaguely before turning around.

“But now... I have the cure. I have you. I don’t need him anymore.” He said as he pointed a gun at Magnus.

He stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide in fear as he stared at the man in front of him. He felt his heart beating in his throat, a fast, erratic thumping as fear clutched at his heart, squeezing the air out of him in a shaky breath. He looked into the familiar golden amber eyes and knew that it was over. His eyes moved to the gun pointed at him, cold and deadly as the man moved his finger, resting it on the trigger.

He felt tears in his eyes, mourning for himself and all the others. The thought of all of them... having thoughts and feelings and memories... they were real. They were real, living and breathing people.

All created in a lab by a man who couldn’t let go of his love.

As he stood there, eyes not leaving the other’s face.. he mourned for him a bit too. As twisted as it sounded... he felt sad for the older man. To imagine a love so strong... that it was enough to wash away any morals or ethics the man once must have held as a doctor, just to be reunited with his lover.

He remembered vividly all the memories he had with Alec and realized that they weren’t his memories but memories of the man in front of him. It broke his heart.

He knew, he felt the love the real Magnus felt for Alec. The respect, the admiration he felt for the other man. He wondered what his Alexander would have said if he saw the man he loved, once kind, caring and so considerate of everyone around him to turn into someone so lonely and hurt by the cruelty of life. That the man he loved was willing to play God, to break rules and overstep boundaries so easily just to be with him again.

He closed his eyes, allowing a single tear to roll down his cheek. He wanted to live. He desperately wanted to experience the world, all the moments he thought he once had, but turned out to be nothing but someone else's memories. He selfishly wanted that happiness to be his. Even if he knew that they were never his to start with.

He prepared for the end and for a fleeing moment, he wondered if this was what Alexander felt like at the end of his condition. This gut-wrenching fear and helplessness knowing that no matter what he did, the end was coming, and he had no way of stopping it.

He mourned for him too.

He heard the sound of the gunshot and he squeezed his eyes shut so hard it was almost painful, but apart from the self-inflicted pain, he didn’t feel anything.

He opened his eyes and found the the older Magnus lying on the floor, Alec on top of him.

“Alex-.”

“Stop.” Alec grunted; hand curled around the man’s wrist that was holding the gun.

He watched as Alec forced the gun out of his hands before turning it around, pointing at the older man under him.

“What are you doing?” Magnus panted, eyes wide in shock as he was pinned to the floor. Magnus watched the two of them, unable to move.

“I... I…” Alec stuttered and even though he couldn’t see his face, his back was turned towards Magnus where he stood, he could hear the pain in his voice, tears choking him as he tried to speak.

“I have all his memories... I remember everything. The first time you met, your first date, your first kiss… the first time you made love to him. I know how much he loved you, how he adored you. This isn't what he would have wanted, Magnus.” And this.. this isn’t how I want to remember you Magnus. And I know he wouldn’t want to either.” He said, shoulders shaking with silent cries.

“Alexander...”

“You killed... so many of us. Over and over again. That is not something the man I fell in love would ever do. I died Magnus. I wish... I wish you would’ve had the chance to grow old together. To have a family. But life... life doesn’t always give us what we want. Alexander isn’t the only one who died that day. You did too. A part of you never moved on. I think... I think you should... be with him.”

“We can be. We can be.” Magnus chanted eagerly, voice hoping yet desperate.

“And we will be. I will be waiting for you at the Brooklyn-bridge. I promise.” Alec whispered as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the man’s forehead before a gunshot rang through the air again.

He never thought he would ever have this. Now, here they were, standing on a roof top surrounded by the blue and white lights of the never sleeping city. The sight of the Brooklyn bridge, bright like a beacon of hope in the darkness of the night. He felt the warmth of a body pressing up to his back before arms sneaked around his waist, hugging him gently. He smiled as he tilted his head back against his lover’s chest, finding comfort in the small puffs or air hitting his neck and the familiar scent of Alexander’s cologne.

[something-tofightfor]

YOURE JUST SO SO STUPID WITH YOUR HUSBAND

Word Count: 1747

(This takes place in @its-my-little-dumpster-fire‘s “’Deed I Do” universe where I am happily married to John Whittaker and making Veronica’s life a living hell whenever possible.)

“You’re just so, so stupid.” You used the back of your hand to push your hair away from your face, mindful of the fact that it was covered in flour - most of which was outside of the bowl that it was supposed to be in. “Why did you believe that you could…”

 “John won’t like you talking about yourself like that.” You paused, closing your eyes and gritting your teeth. Not now, Marion. “And mother won’t -”

 “I know your mother won’t approve of the mess I’m making, Marion.” You sighed, lowering your head as your eyes went to the glass mixing bowl on the counter, and then to the drifts of flour surrounding it. “Veronica doesn’t approve of much -”

 “And you know that he likes Madeira cake, right?” 

 “Marion.” You finally turned to face the other woman, eyebrows raised. “He is my husband and I have known him since we were children. Of course I know that he likes Madeira cake, but that’s not suitable for a birthday.” You gestured behind you with one hand, shaking your head. “You need frosting on a birthday cake, something to stick candles into, something to …” To detract from the way that this cake is going to taste because I … “I’ve never made frosting before, Marion.” Though you and John’s sister didn’t always see eye to eye, and the woman’s near constant snark toward you was off-putting, there was no reason to lie to her. “And I’ve been so worried about that that I can’t focus on the cake, which is simple, I’ve done this countless times before.”

 “You could have just asked the staff to make the cake, you know.” She stepped into the kitchen, tone softer. “Things are a little better for us, with John’s new venture, and we have a full time cook again.” 

 “It’s his first birthday as my husband, and I wanted to…” You pressed your lips together. “I just wanted to surprise him.” John was traveling and had been gone for two weeks on business, and the days had seemed like the longest in your memory. As the head of the Whittaker household and the family’s future, he was expected to represent you in all matters… and he’d done just that, taking another trip to visit his friend Andrew in France.

 John had begged you to go with him, and although you enjoyed the company of Perrine and Andrew, you’d declined - for good reason. There was to be a birthday party for John the weekend after his return, and if you’d left things to Veronica, the party would have had nothing to do with your husband or his interests, and everything to do with hers. He’d pouted for days, and even now, two weeks later, you could still picture the look in your husband’s eyes as he pled with you, on the morning of his departure to accompany him on the trip; brown eyes wide and lips settled into the pout that looked almost as inviting on his perfect lips as a wide smile did. 

 “Just come with me,” he’d whispered, his lips against your cheek. ‘We don’t have to come back for the party, we can stay in France after I’ve finished with my meetings. Mother won’t…” 

 “John,” you’d sighed, reaching behind you to tangle your fingers in his hair, eyes still closed. “She would throttle me, and then you. I don’t want you to go, but if I stay, I can make some of the decisions for her.” You turned your head toward his, opening your eyes. “For you.” He was grinning at you, hair falling over his forehead. “And just think, John..” You tilted your head,and for once, it wasn’t John’s lips that were waiting for a good morning kiss - it was yours. He only kept you waiting for a moment, lowering his mouth to yours and kissing you thoroughly as you rolled onto your back, the hand that had been on John’s head dropping to the sheets beneath you. “Just think about how happy you’ll be to see me again when you come home.” He’d sighed - a deep sound, one of resignation - and nodded, kissing you again quickly. 

 “You’re right.” John pulled back, still looking disappointed, and though you hated being the one to make him feel that way, you were certain it was the right decision. “But I haven’t left yet. Let me say a proper goodbye to my wife?” Without hesitation, you nodded, feeling the weight of John’s body pressing down against yours. 

 That had been two weeks ago, and John was due home the following morning - the day before his birthday. The cake had seemed like a good idea when you’d decided to make it; it was simple enough - you’d made cakes before, but as you’d stood in the Whittaker kitchen - your kitchen - bowls and spoons and ingredients in front of you, things had spiraled out of control quickly. “What are you having a hard time with?” Marion was next to you, arms crossed over her chest . “It just looks like you dumped the flour, but you haven’t added the eggs and sugar yet.” 

 “I haven’t, it’s just the flour and the cocoa and -” You frowned. “I guess I could just add a little more of those if it looks like it’s too loose…” You took a deep breath and looked over the ingredients again. “Have you made frosting before, Marion?” The other woman laughed, shaking her head. 

 “You could always just make whipped cream instead of frosting.” Marion paused. “I’m sure you’d enjoy that much more.” When you glanced over at her, she winked at you - the first time in nearly a year that she’d done so. “I know John’s a fan, and then you could even reserve some for cocoa.” Cocoa? Hmm. Marion had already stepped away from the counter and was reaching for one of the cookbooks on the shelf, pulling it down and swiftly flipping through pages. “Here. A recipe. You just need some heavy cream, gelatin, water, confectioner’s sugar and vanilla.” Sounds simpler than the frosting… “We can take turns with the whisk.” 

 --- 

 The cake was finished - and it tasted good, you knew, because you’d reserved a small amount of the batter and baked it separately, sharing it with Marion after letting it cool and spreading some of the whipped frosting atop it. The two of you had had a long conversation as you baked, and an even longer one as you cleaned up the mess that you’d made. Though you didn’t think you’d ever be the best of friends, you had a newfound appreciation for the eldest Whittaker daughter and her desire to protect John as much as she could - from the world and from their mother’s expectations. You’d finished cleaning just as Veronica breezed through the doors, searching for the two of you to go over more details about the party and the menu.

 Holding your breath, you’d waited for her to make a comment about a dusting of flour or a splash of cream that you’d missed, but she said nothing, instead launching into a tirade about the price of shrimp for the cocktail, the number of roasts that would be needed to feed the guests, all of the champagne she’d ordered. Typical. You’d listened intently, making sure to focus on the woman’s face as she spoke, but since she hadn’t said anything about changing the choices that you’d decided on, you weren’t worried. “Veronica?” You interrupted her as she spoke to Marion, shaking your head. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I’m going to go back upstairs, I’d like to take a bath before it gets too late.” She dismissed you with a wave of her hand, entirely focused on filling Marion in on the latest news from the Hurst estate, and you exited the room quickly, using your fingertips to rub at your eyes. They’ll all be here for the party, Phillip and his wife and Sarah and her fiance… that’s a start. 

 To say that things were still frosty between John and his former friend - and lover, you had to admit, even if only to yourself - was an understatement, but after attending Phillip’s celebration, when the two of them, and then the three of you (and then you and Sarah separately) had spoken, you had hope that one day, John would have his friend back - and one day, your imagination wouldn’t run wild when seeing the two of them together, even doing something as harmless as speaking in a crowded room. By the time you’d made it back to your bedroom, you’d pushed all thoughts from your head except how appealing the thought of the hot water on your skin was, and the fact that within 24 hours, your husband would be home again. 

 You’d passed the time after your bath and between bed with tidying up your room, changing the sheets on the bed and reading a few chapters of the book you’d picked up in town, but you called it an early night. I’ll be busy all weekend, I need to get some sleep. You drifted off quickly, one hand on John’s pillow and the other tucked beneath your own, waking hours later at the feeling of the mattress dipping behind you and a low voice in your ear. “Wake up, darling. Did you miss me?” 

 “Mmmmm… what?” You snuggled down further beneath the blankets, not opening your eyes. What a lifelike dream. You could almost feel your husband’s lips against your cheek, feel the blankets moving, feel his body pressed against yours from behind - “John?!” Your eyes flew open and you rolled quickly toward the voice, finding your husband’s face only a few inches away from yours. “John, you’re back? You’re supposed to be coming back tomorrow, I …” He shook his head slowly, a smile growing on his face. 

 “I drove straight through after the train dropped me off, I couldn’t wait another minute.” He leaned down, brushing his nose against yours and stopping just before his lips touched you, taking a deep breath. “I needed to kiss my wife.” You let out a breath and reached up with your hand to grip the back of his neck, your fingers immediately finding the ends of his hair in a practiced movement as you pulled him down to you for a kiss that you’d waited weeks for, John’s answering groan a sound you’d sorely missed.

 “Welcome home, Mr. Whittaker.” 

---

[brooklynislandgirl]

[Beth and Cop] ❤♡❥ღ💕💘💝💓💌💟💙💚💜💛

This || Not Accepting

❤: who is more affectionate in public? in private? She slides a foot out of her heel and runs the tips of toes along the length of his leg. A feat that he can’t begin to fathom how she manages without ever having moved in her chair. Especially when she grazes his ~ and instantly he reaches down to adjust the napkin in his lap but what he’s actually doing is stopping her from doing that a second time.

He’s squirrelled away and saved to take her to this place, something he knows that she might take for granted but that twists his gut. He never knows which fork to use and the bill at the end of dinner will be twice his electric for the month. And there she is, making eyes at him that by looks alone could set the place on fire. He’s a hundred percent certain that Elizabeth Riley is evil. Later, they take a walk through the park. His arm slips around her waist as if it belongs there. Once they get to the fountain, he takes a perch on the dry edge of it and pulls her close. Sitting as he does almost makes them the same height, makes it easy for him to reach up and run fingers through her hair as he pulls her close for a chaste kiss on the lips. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d been able to do that, or when the return is so much sweeter, more tender than he expects. It’s going to be a nightmare, remembering to hate her at work tomorrow. ♡: who is the bigger romantic openly? secretly?

They don’t do romantic in public. Sure, there’s rumours based strictly on the amount of snark that passes through them when they have to process a crime-scene together. The way he slams her down on the padded mat in the precinct gym. The way they compete on the gun-range. There’s a million little signs the other detectives can point out but none of it is more than circumstantial.

They have to be this way for their careers, and to keep Luka’s secret. The secret that cuddles between them on movie night. The secret that Beth reads to before bed, the one he puts through dance classes and goes to PTA meetings ~sometimes~ and who wants a dog one week, a horse the next, a dragon the one after that.

And once this particular secret is asleep in her bed, that’s when things change. When Luka takes hold of her foot and rubs the tension out of her sole. When she brings him a beer and curls up at his side. Separate in their own heads, but companionably comfortable together. He stocks her plant-based coffee creamer, or the way her hands seem to always know where in his neck the tension sits. Going to Church when he’d rather be anywhere else, and the way she lets him watch football ~REAL Footy, Be’d~ even if she doesn’t really know the rules.  And Beth is okay with that. Sometimes, being able to just be comfortable with another person is more important than heated arguments and sex in weird places.

❥: who is more likely to plan something big for valentine's day?

Luka was out the door before he’d double-checked the paper calendar attached to the front of the fridge by toe-shoe magnates. Some parents would call that a violation but what they didn’t know is that he scoured five bakeries in two different Burroughs just to make sure he had twenty seven gluten and sugar free red, pink and white cupcakes for the class party. That he’d actually contacted the school nurse to double-check any possible allergen alerts. That he’d helped Maria make up twenty- six valentines cards ~including one for the teacher~ and made little pink tulle candy-heart and Dove chocolates attached to the envelopes. Didn’t even curse when he burned himself no less than three times with hot glue.

So of course Beth makes the delivery on time for the class party. She also stops at one store on the way over to his place to pick up a bottle of wine for dinner.

She doesn’t expect the lights to be out when she gets there. Or the door to be unlocked. Or for Maria to be spending the night with her uncles.

There’s been a massacre of roses, petals strewn from the front door to the bedroom and the apartment is lit up by candles enough to warrant a violation from those two brothers of his. There’s Chopin cello sonatas on the stereo. Almost everything needed for a romantic evening except maybe the most important part.

She finds Luka in the bedroom, after leaving the wine and her coat on the kitchen counter. Hours later, he gets up, goes to get them some water after teasing her about the importance of keeping hydrated. He comes back with a tray and on it, there’s a single unmolested rose in a bud vase. There’s two glasses of wine, and a plate he’s covered with a plastic mixing bowl because he doesn’t have a proper domed cover. She holds the sheet to her chest and eyes him suspiciously. “Wha’s dat?” “Open i’n see,” he says cryptically. She does and for a split second there’s alarm bells ringing in her ear. Her empty hand rises up to take hold of the crucifix around her neck and she slashes a troubled gaze at him. She doesn’t want to open the box. She isn’t ready for all this to be over. He kneels by the bedside. Takes the box in his hands. She cannot for the life of her recall what exactly it is that he says, can’t hear him over the throbbing pulse pounding in her ears and the vaguely sick feeling twisting her guts into knots. But eventually he opens the box, and inside, glimmering in the soft light is a thing of beauty. High-polished and brand new. She’s pretty sure this isn’t how you’re supposed to give someone the key to your place, but she lets out a sigh she hasn’t realised she’d been holding, and simply nods.

ღ: who is more likely to initiate hand-holding in public?

“...Car 556... 10-33 Zebra. Repeat, 10-33-Zebra.”

“Dispatch 10-4. All available units respond to 10-33 PBMS.”

There’s a moment when the world comes to crashing stillness. When it doesn’t matter that you’re stuck in traffic after a long day in the office. When you know the car number like the back of your hand and the message relayed is that an officer in plain clothes requires emergency assistance. When it doesn’t matter that you work in a completely different Burroughs and that you’re technically not supposed to even have your radio on. You do what you have to, and are grateful your car is kitted out with lights on the grill and you’re allowed to run silent.

And she doesn’t know how grateful she’ll be later. After arriving on scene, the suspect is already under arrest and being sent to central booking. That the officer in question isn’t Luka, but that his car had been loaned out to a different unite. It’s terrible that he’d been shot in the course of his duty, but it’s only a winging. He’ll have a scar but will make a full recovery. She doesn’t even really catch his name. Instead, she’s too glad to be standing behind the barricade with Luka who other than troubled by the whole incident, is perfectly fine. There’s enough people surrounding them, civilian and other cops alike that she doesn’t think anyone really notices when she reaches down and slips her fingers through his. Squeezes the life out of them. 

💕: who is more likely to make huge declarations of love in front of other people?

“Can ya b’lieve dis?”  “Wha’s d’at, luv?” “Six hundred cable channels, an’ I swear all dat’s on is reruns of Game ‘a T’rones, an’ reality tv. Bachelah, Bachelah in Paradise, Bachlahrette, Marry in Paradise, some kine momona weddin’, blah-blah-blah.”

He arches a brow and she takes a breath. The next fifteen minutes is a tirade about every aspect of human life having to be televised, having turned into human verisimilitude and sell-out voyeurism. She talks about how ultimately disgusting it is. But her life has been vastly different. When she has to represent her family at charity events or when she’s in the city, there’s photographs being taken. People coming up to her and starting conversations as if they’re dear friends even if she hasn’t seen them in years, things of that nature. But it always makes him second-guess plans he’s making and things he wants to say. 💘: who developed a crush on the other first?

“O’Rian and Riley, sitting in a tree.” Maybe it was the moment when she helped him make Maria’s lunch that night while they were working on his case. Or the time she was putting a band-aid on Maria’s skinned knee. Blowing gently across the wound to take the sting out and she looked up at him. All wide green eyes and smiles. Or maybe a half a dozen other times over the last year of what might be argued in court as the start of their friendship. And he absolutely isn’t going to ruin it. No matter what stupid sing-song tone his partner takes with him.

“K-I-S-S-I-N- OW!”  “Shu’i’ House.”

💝: who spends more time (possibly overthinking) what presents to get the other?

 “....So I can clearly no choose wine in front of me...” She more or less quotes the Princess Bride verbatim to Jay. Tapping on the anniversary hardback, gilt edged, colour plate hand-drawn images version of the book that she’s gotten for Maria. They sit in the coffee shop three blocks down from FAO Schwartz. Jay’s proud that Beth didn’t buy the girl a whole store’s worth of Christmas gifts but the trouble on her face is about the father. Jay smiles behind her cup. There’s more behind the anxiety than the already stated fact that Beth doesn’t want to go over or under board. And as both her friend and her lawyer, Jay knows she’s got to throw the little woman a rope before she spirals into a strange mania. “What do you wanna say to him, through this gift? That you think he’s super hot and you wanna do terrible things to him? That you want to date forever while the rest of us die of old age waiting for a wedding invitation? That you just really love his kid and hope he doesn’t mind you hanging out with her?”

“....”

“It’s a joke, kid.” When her only reply she gets is a frustrated, defeated little whine and Beth’s forehead brushing the tabletop, Jay shakes her head. “Decide how much he means to you and get him something that you know is in the same group of things that he cares about. Like last year I got Baz a brand new tool kit and backboard so he could stop shimmying under whatever car was on the docket for the day and coming home with his back, and leg fucking him over. Ergo. You clearly cannot choose the wine in front of me.”

💓: who initiates most physical contact?

It’s the little things. Toes stuck under his leg or in his lap because they are made from polar ice. The way she reaches up and readjusts his ties, not that they need it. How sometimes the backs of her fingers come to rest against his wrist. The way she gently shoulder-checks him when they’re walking. The way she holds one of Maria’s hands and gets him to take the other, swinging his daughter between them even if she isn’t much taller than the girl.

He doesn’t really think Beth notices these things. He’s sure if she did that she would stop doing them, or at least make a concerted effort. That’s something he’d list as a negative were he ever to make a pros and cons list about her. When she’s not inside her own head or when things are quiet she comes out of her shell and it’s gentle and amazing. But as soon as it’s brought to her attention she shrinks back away from everything, but especially from him. More than once this has made him wonder about her ex and the kind of relationship they had that this would become ingrained behaviour, but he’s never found the right moment to ask about it. Maybe he doesn’t really want to know.

💌: who is more likely to send cutesy texts to the other?

It starts with a good morning. Through-out the rest of the day it’s all just random thoughts and cute pictures. A joke Maria told him. Fun facts from the morgue which aren’t exactly fun but he knows it’s a release valve for her job. Puns. It’s easier to express themselves in a text than it is to say aloud.  Some days they graduate to songs shared. Sometimes it’s a quick video call when they’re working opposite sides of the city or they fall asleep talking. There’s less pressure this way, less strain on already busy days. And some days, it is the hardest thing. When you want to reconnect physically but you can’t.

💟: who spends time reading their zodiac compatibility?

“Dis so ridiculous.”

He glances at her, brow raised, from where he’s making scrambled eggs. “Pisces an’ Cancer make beautiful combination. Dese are some of mos’ romantic couples we know. Bot’ waddah sign an’ connect t’rough a feeling vibration, makin’ words unnecessary. Dere is unspoken bond dat keeps dem togeddah t’rough sorrow, pain, ecstasy.” So far, he isn’t hearing the problem. “Sounds good so far.”

“Should be easy-easy t’ move into her magnetic force field. Ya got every kine it take t’ win her wit’ ya sensitivity an’ psychic attunement. Ya probably speak her favourite lines or appear at da door wi’ her favourite accoutrements intuitively. Don’ ovah t’ink it. Pisces is preddy much able t’ read anybody an’ no one would welcome dat more dan ya Cancer lady who will interpret it as intimacy an’ closeness.” She makes a sound in the back of her throat putting down the paper, but nothing he’s heard so far is wrong or out of place. And he knows better than to say anything.

“Cancer is cardinal sign which means ya got natural leadership ability an’ energy f’ launch one project. Should ya decide dat dis Pisces man ovah dere is da one for you, go into strategic mode. Come up wi’ a plan. Shy an’ feminine as ya are, ya need to have details ready f’ go. Some of da more welcome traits you can exhibit is cookin’ ~yeah right, probably set ya place on fiyah~ cleanin’ up messes, straightenin’ out da details of his life, makin’ sure his clothes are press an’ ready f’ wear, and organizin’ his kitchen. He would probably be grateful for ya help in any of his areas, an’ you can do it wi’out being pushy.”  She makes a face. “Like look for girlfriend...or ya maddah?”

He doesn’t say anything. For the most part he doesn’t like to argue with her, doesn’t know how it would make a difference. And he’s not going to take the bait about her inability to cook. Instead he pads over, kisses the top of her head, and slides eggs onto her plate.

💙: who is more protective?

“Hey, baby. Let me buy you a drink.” “Name nevah is baby, an’ I’m waitin’ for someone.” The guy with Very White Teeth opens his jacket the same way peacocks fan their tailfeathers. She is unimpressed and sighs. “What’s he got that I don’t?” “O’ badge an’ o’ gun.” The words are growled behind VWT and she smiles. VWT turns and looks up. And up some more, all the way to Luka’s face, which is also smiling but not in the same ways and for the same reasons. The guy scuttles back to whatever table he came from and Luka takes his place at the bar. Beth leans over and places a chaste kiss on his cheek. Whispers in his ear every thing whiskey and heat. “Love it when ya do dat.” ~*~ Somewhere between still drunk tonight and early the next morning a strange sound shocks them both awake. Instinctively she reaches for the gun that is no longer on her nightstand but in the unsafe they agreed to when Maria was here. At the same time Luka slips out of bed, grabs the bat she uses for the NYPD baseball team. They pad silently from her bedroom to the kitchen. They both have adrenaline in their system and are prepared to commit grievous bodily harm on the intruder. Who happens to Maria.

And a carton of spilled milk that Houdini is graciously lapping up so no one has to mop the floor. There’s a bowl of cereal and a spoon on the counter.

She smiles at both of them. When the snack is had and the mess is cleaned up, they go back to bed. He kisses her not quite as chastely and definitely not on the cheek.   “O’i love i’ when ye do d’at.”

💚: who tends to get sick more often? who is better at taking care of the other?

He can’t be sick. He doesn’t have time for it. There’s a presentation for science that needs to be finished, he has a sixteen hour volunteer shift he’s got in a couple hours, Maria still needs to get to school, he’s got a meeting with the lawyer, there’s- “Come on, Lu’a,” she murmurs. “Let’s get ya sit up.” She eases him from the pillows into a vaguely sitting position, one hand on his chest and one rubbing small circles against his back. She’s careful not to touch the new, still red scars.

“An’ before ya wan stay argue wi’ me...M’friend Bobby D is gonna cover ya shift. He’s in trouble wi’ his husband again cause of ‘Lantic City an’ can really use da cash. Diorama’s already done. I still t’ink she picked sharks t’ make sure I’d help. I can drop her off before I go in an’ take a early day f’ pick her up. Got ya big glass of juice here. Cold an’ Flu medicine righ’ here wi’ da plastic cup f’ measure wit’.” “Be’d...” “Uhuh. I’m really amazin’ an’ ya no know wha’ ya do wit’out me, I know. I really am dat perfect.” She winks at him. “Gonna wheel in m’ spare tv so ya can catch up on ya Netflix queue or play on da Xbox, but I no wan ya gettin’ out of bed. Doyle say him an’ Anrai comin’ over t’ check on ya an’ bring ya lunch. All I wan’ ya to do is rest. Got me?” “‘F O’i dunna?” “Den is gonna be real hard t’ fit ya in one of my morgue drawer, Detective O’Rian.” He would laugh but for the wracking cough that shakes him stem to stern.

💜: who said "i love you" first? or, if neither has said it yet, who is more likely to say it first?

It sits on his lips a dozen times a day, often a lot more. And every time he thinks he’s going to say it, something comes out of her head that makes him file it away for a better time. Not that he thinks there’s going to be one. So he tries to show her in little ways, in the kind of thing he thinks she’ll find acceptable. Running a hot bath for her. Cooking hot meals for the three of them. Slipping a new book on her night-stand that he thinks she’ll like. Picking up the deep red wines she seems to prefer over everything else. But most of all, he tries to show her he listens. This ... relationship... is vastly different from his marriage. He’s older now, more mature. He’s learned from all the missteps that almost lead to being divorced if not for his wife’s murder. He’s trying to prove himself.

But that’s not the secret to holding this all together.  It’s that he’s learned that, like the sharks she loves so much, the secret of Beth is to never hold her still. She has to be free to move and swim as she likes or she will drown. Suffocate under the weight of everything in the world, her family, her job, her grief. He’s hoping that if he is patient for long enough, she’ll finally see him as safe harbour rather than a cage that will stifle her. ~*~ She spends more time on her knees in her pew these days than she ever did when Andy was alive, and they would go to Mass three times a week. She comes here for peace, for the meditative silence, and to seek forgiveness. She prays to her saints. To the Blessed Mother. But mostly she prays to her brother. She wants his forgiveness. She has to change to survive. She never meant to live her life without him and he had to know that. If things had been different, if he’d been the one to live, she’d want him to be as happy and as whole as he could manage.

She’d never intended to move on. Never intended to meet someone, certainly not another cop. She had absolutely no intention of ever falling in love. But then Luka happened to her. And he’d been so infuriating. So arrogant. So...lost. And he has a daughter who needs if not a mother, certainly a woman she can grow to trust, who can give her advice and teach her things that her father maybe can’t.

And while the guilt will forever eat at her, she’s happy. For the first time in a long time. Is it love? She’s not sure but it very might could be.

💛: who believes in soulmates?

Maria sits on the bench with her friend Tamiqa.

“So who’s picking you up?” “Beth.” “She and your dad have been dating for a while.” “Yeah.”

“Is she nice? It is she like your wicked step mother?” “oh, she’s great. She makes him really happy. But...” “But....what? “They are so dumb. They’re so perfect for each other and still they don’t even hold hands.” “That’s so sad!” “Maybe. But I bet my dad’s going to marry her. They’re soulmates you know.” Tamiqa nods at Maria’s sage wisdom. 

[katjacksonbooks]

And here we are at the end! 

Even though the first request was about Monica, Kierra and Lane, this was the hardest to wrap my head around because these three should be running around the world, causing havoc (and then fixing it!) but now they can’t. And while Lane and Kierra respond fairly well to that, Monica doesn’t. 

So I guess I just want to tell you all that however you’re feeling is valid and I hope you’re taking care of yourself. I also hope you’re reaching out to people who can support you emotionally, make you laugh, hang out on the skype chat while you cry, and tell you gently that you might never be a famous baker but your misshapen loaf of bread looks good. 

If you’re looking to read more with these three, check out Pink Slip and New Year, New We at these retailers

Pink Slip: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, Kobo 

New Year, New We: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, Kobo

You can also pick up these books for whatever you’d like to pay as part of the Three Is a Great Number bundle on payhip

And/or you can request these ebooks at your local library on Overdrive. 

Be well <3

Isolation Day 4

 Monica was working at her desk.

She’d been there long enough that her back ached, her eyes were tired and dry, and her vision was just a bit blurry, but she didn’t want to check the clock. She didn’t want to know how long she’d been here or how much longer she planned to be here.

“Quitting time, boss,” Kierra said in a surprisingly sunny voice.

Monica only looked up at her briefly, not long enough to let herself actually see her. “Okay,” she said, cringing at her dry voice and sore throat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d called Kierra for anything to drink. Her eyes darted to the corner of her desk, and she spotted a full bottle of water, untouched.

“You coming?” Kierra asked.

“No, you go. I’ll be up in a bit.” Monica turned back to her laptop and tried to focus on the words on the screen, but her left eye was so tired it had started to burn.

“No, thanks,” Kierra said. “That doesn’t work for me.”

Monica looked up with a frown. “Excuse me?”

“I said that doesn’t work for me. You down here until after midnight, falling asleep at your desk doesn’t work for me. Let’s go.” As she spoke, Kierra walked toward Monica’s desk, and then she boldly pushed Monica’s laptop closed with her left hand and placed both hands palms down on Monica’s desk.

Monica was tired, but not too tired that her eyes didn’t dip down the deep v of Kierra’s shirt, where her breasts swayed slightly under the fabric. Monica frowned. She could have sworn Kierra had been wearing a bra at the beginning of the day.

“Let’s go,” Kierra said in a surprisingly hard tone that Monica had never heard from her.

“I only have two folders left to go through,” Monica said even though she didn’t need to justify her decisions to Kierra. She was the boss.

“Great,” Kierra said, holding Monica’s eyes with a sedate stare. “I’ll make sure they’re on your desk first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Quitting time,” Lane trilled as he came to stand in her office doorway. Monica almost lifted her eyes to him, ready to tell him to take Kierra upstairs, but she was certain that if she looked away from this standoff, Kierra would take the upper hand somehow.

“As I was telling Kierra,” Monica ground out, “I’ll be down here for a little longer.”

“And as I was telling Monica, that’s not an option. We’re off. Let’s go home.”

“You two alright?” Lane asked.

“We’re fine,” they said at the same time.

“My dick says otherwise,” Lane muttered.

“Don’t make me fire you,” Monica whispered to Kierra. She didn’t mean it, but if this was a powerplay, Monica was going to win; she always did. Or she always did under normal circumstances. There wasn’t any bite to her threat, and surely, they all knew that, but she didn’t expect Kierra to laugh.

It wasn’t necessarily full of mirth it sounded sarcastic, and maybe even challenging. This was yet another sound Monica hadn’t ever heard Kierra make. Her breasts, however, moved, invitingly.

“Oh, please,” Kierra said, “please fire me. I would love to watch you look for another PA who’s going to make sure your favorite coffee shop makes your lattes extra hot so that by the time it gets here it’s the perfect temperature, or who happily drives to get your favorite cheese from that bougie artisanal place, or who comes in early to print, collate, and organize all your work just the way you like it — from most to least annoying — and who does all of that in five-inch heels and a full face of makeup she’ll happily let you mess up whenever you like. Please. Fire me.”

Monica’s office was thick with tension, and not the sexual tension the three of them were used to. The silence stretched for an uncomfortable minute, and then Monica sighed and stood from her chair.

“Fine,” she said.

“Great. Who’s hungry?” Lane said with a single clap of his hands.

Kierra’s face transformed from a challenging stare to pure glee. “I’m starving,” she trilled in the high-pitched voice Monica recognized. She reached for Monica’s arms and held onto them with both hands, sidling up to her and pressing her soft breasts into Monica’s side.

“Are you hungry?” Kierra whispered to Monica in a gentle, warm tone.

Monica looked down at her, and now that she wasn’t sitting in her chair and her back could stretch — and twinge — she realized that she was hungry. And thirsty. And tired.

She nodded down at Kierra as Lane wrapped his arm around Monica’s waist, and he pressed a kiss to her temple. “I think I’m gonna fry some chicken,” he said in his thickest Texas accent.

 Isolation Day 10

 Monica was back at her desk.

Today she was compiling a list of her agents and assessing their needs.

Kenny was home with Maya and working some digital recon for some of their active missions currently on hold while, according to Kierra and Lane’s talk over dinner, helping Maya make some new self-isolation content for her cam channel. Apparently, it was going over very well.

There were a few agents who’d had to shelter in place while on a mission, which was dangerous and threatening to give Monica an ulcer. Some of them would likely be fine, while others were being forced to live in their covers twenty-four hours a day with limited or no access to their actual lives; their partners or parents and, in one case, their children. Monica was most worried about them and had been trying to figure out how to extract her agents without blowing up cases that had taken thousands of hours to put together. If that couldn’t be achieved, she was also working on her justification to her bosses about why her people were more important than the missions and hating that she might ever even have to state something so obvious.

“Drink some water,” Kierra said, placing a large glass on her desk.

“Thank you,” Monica replied, distracted.

“Now.”

Monica looked up at Kierra. She was standing on the other side of Monica’s desk with her arms crossed over her chest and that same hard glare on her face. Monica would have challenged her, but a glass of water was a foolish thing to pick a fight about, so she grabbed the glass and began to drink.

As soon as the liquid hit her tongue, she realized how thirsty she was, and she kept drinking, gulping the entire glass down in a few swallows. Kierra watched her the entire time.

Monica placed the glass back on the coaster, and Kierra snatched it up. “I’ll bring you another,” she said and then turned to flounce out of her office. Monica watched her leave and noted the bright smile on her face as she turned to wink at Monica over her shoulder, the bounce in her step, and the way her round ass jiggled under the skirt of her flowing dress.

 Isolation Day 15

 Monica slept in. She never did that.

Usually, she woke up before Lane or Kierra, and she was such a light sleeper that sometimes Kierra’s tossing and turning would wake her up in the middle of the night. But somehow, today, she’d slept through Lane and Kierra not only waking up but, knowing those two, fucking and then noisily getting ready together. That never happened, and it was actually a little bit worrying.

She rushed out of bed to shower and wash her hair, but the rush left her once she was under the spray. She took her time shampooing and conditioning her hair and decided to shave her legs while she was there. And then she took her time moisturizing her body, combing a leave-in hair mask into her hair. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and then grabbed one of Kierra’s sheet masks and slapped it on her face while she picked out an outfit to wear.

She felt like an entirely new person — or like herself before all this — as she walked into Command.

As soon as she sat behind her desk, Kierra came rushing into her office with a cup of coffee in one hand, a muffin on a plate in the other, and a stack of files under her arm.

“I rescheduled your phone meeting with Asif, Lane’s handled that Skype chat with Chanté and Kenny, and here’s the new resource list for the op in Brussels. Let me know if you need anything else,” Kierra said. She placed everything on Monica’s desk, the food and coffee to her left side in easy reach and the files in front of her. And then she brushed her lips across Monica’s cheek before rushing from the room.

 Isolation Day 21

 “Quitting time, boss,” Lane said, standing in her office door with a tired smile on his face.

“I just have another email to send,” Monica said.

“Is it mission critical?”

“No, but I just want to get through it, and I might double-check the intel Carlisle sent yester—”

“No.”

Monica looked up at Lane. He was still smiling at her.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no need to apologize,” he said with a brighter smile and a shrug. “I was sent down here to tell you that Kierra’s been baking bread all damn day, and she grilled some steaks for dinner.”

“Well, I’ll be up in a few,” Monica said through clenched teeth.

Lane laughed and shook his head. “It’s real cute, this thing you two have going on. You can come upstairs with me, or you can wait ‘til she comes to get you. Either way, we both know your presence at that dinner table is non-negotiable.” There was a pregnant pause between them. “Boss,” he added definitively.

Monica sighed and rolled her eyes. And then she stood from her chair. “That’s my girl,” he trilled at her.

 Isolation Day 30

 Monica had been under the shower spray so long that her fingertips were wrinkly. She’d lost track of time.

She turned the water off and stepped from the shower.

Kierra was waiting near the door. Monica wasn’t sure why, but seeing Kierra there staring at her made her feel…guilty. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what, and there was something about standing naked and dripping wet under Kierra’s gaze that made this moment seem slightly disconcerting.

“It’s Saturday,” Kierra said.

Monica squinted and frowned, “It is?”

“It is. Lane and I cleaned out the jacuzzi today. It’s hot now. We’re going to relax in it. All of us,” she said, just in case Monica was unsure. She’d been doing that a lot over the last month, telling Monica what the three of them would do day-to-day instead of asking. At first, it was shocking in its unfamiliarity, but now it had just become the new normal.

“I don’t know,” Monica hedged.

“I do. Now come on. I’ll let you pick out my bikini,” Kierra said and then walked into their bedroom.

***

“Oh, this feels good,” Lane groaned as he relaxed into the hot water.

“Is it helping your back?” Kierra asked.

Monica turned to Lane with furrowed brows. “What’s wrong with your back?” she asked, alarmed.

Lane grabbed Monica’s thigh under the water and squeezed. “Nothing but age,” he said. “Nothing but age.”

Kierra pressed herself against Lane’s other side and ran her nose against the sharp cut of his jaw. Monica noticed that Lane’s beard was thicker than he normally grew it, and she was shocked at how much gray there was there, much more gray than brown. There were soft wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth, and she wondered if all those things had appeared over the past month or if she was just now noticing them.

And then her eyes flitted to Kierra. She looked so much younger than Lane, but there were changes with her, too. Her perfectly manicured nails were now bare of color and not as meticulously manicured as Monica was used to, and her shoulder-length straight hair was wavy now, with thicker, wavier hair at the roots.

But the thing that caught Monica’s attention wasn’t any of these superficial changes to their presentation, but the way they made her feel.

Lane squeezed her leg again, and Kierra opened her eyes to look at her.

“It’s okay,” Kierra whispered. “You can cry.”

And somehow, it was only when Kierra said the word that Monica realized that’s what she’d been running from over the past month and that she already was crying. Her eyesight blurred with the wetness in her eyes that soon spilled down her cheeks.

Lane moved his hand over Monica’s lap to pull her closer to him, and the small movement was like an invitation she didn’t know she needed. She collapsed into his side and buried her face in his neck. Lane turned his head and kissed her along her hairline.

And Kierra, who had become harder and more demanding as Monica had withdrawn into herself, practically draped herself across Lane’s chest to get to Monica. She wrapped her arm around Monica’s back and kissed her shoulder.

They held her while she finally cried.

 Isolation Day 31

 “Let us take care of you,” Lane whispered against her lips.

Monica wanted to protest that she took care of them; that was her job, but he pressed his mouth to hers, stopping her from being able to protest. And she let him. She didn’t know if it was the isolation fucking with her sense of time or just the intensity of this moment, but it felt as if it had been years since Lane had kissed her this way.

His mouth moved gently and slowly against hers, prying her lips open slowly by degrees before he slipped his tongue past her lips. Their tongues slid together and apart and together again as his hands roamed down her sides.

Monica wrapped her arms around his neck, playing with his hair — that was getting longer than she normally liked — but also keeping his mouth close.

Lane’s hips circled, pressing his erection into her mound. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he shifted his hips, the column of his shaft slipping between her lips.

She moaned into his mouth, and he smiled in return.

“Can I taste you?” he whispered again.

Monica moaned and nodded, somehow too overcome with how easily he knew exactly what she needed, even though he always had.

She closed her eyes and relaxed against the pillows as he kissed down her body, his beard, lips, and tongue creating an erotic sensory mix everywhere he moved. He sucked at her nipples, scraping them with his teeth, and licked the sensitive skin underneath the mounds of her breasts. He dipped his tongue into her navel and swirled his nose through her pubic hair, breathing in and smelling her.

She was dripping wet by the time his tongue swiped over her clit.

“You ready?” Kierra asked.

Monica opened her eyes to see her behind Lane’s body, wearing the soft leather harness they’d bought her for their one-year anniversary. She was watching Lane’s head move between Monica’s legs with a hungry stare while her right hand obscenely stroked the dildo sticking out from her body, spreading a healthy amount of lubricant over the shaft.

Kierra had spent days finding a dildo that perfectly matched her skin tone. Monica had thought the endeavor was ridiculous but understood that it was exactly the kind of thing she would do, and it was worth it.

Monica shivered at the sight of her looming over them, beautiful and eager as ever.

“Are you ready?” Monica asked, her voice breathy with desire as Lane’s tongue massaged her opening.

Kierra’s eyes lit up. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Probably not as long as me,” Lane interjected quickly before getting back to work on her pussy.

Kierra rolled her eyes with a smile and then moved her hands to Lane’s ass.

Monica started massaging her breasts and lightly pinching her nipples as she watched Kierra prepare Lane. She couldn’t see all her movements, but she knew better than nearly anyone what Lane liked, and she could probably guess from the way his breath hitched over her pussy and his fingers dug into her hips what Kierra was doing.

Lane shivered between them, and Kierra looked up at Monica with a triumphant smile on her face just before she lowered her mouth to Lane’s body.

“Oh, fuck,” Lane yelled out as Kierra rimmed him, probably circling the pucker of his ass with her tongue.

Monica knew better than most how talented Kierra’s tongue was, and she shuddered. She moved her hands to the back of Lane’s head and directed his mouth back to her pussy. And then she shuddered through the ripples of a small orgasm as Lane’s moans joined his tongue in pushing her over the edge.

“Are you ready?” Kierra whispered.

Lane’s body jumped, and his back arched. Kierra’s left hand was moving rhythmically, and Monica realized she was jacking him off, and it was her turn for her back to arch as another orgasm took her over with more intensity.

But Monica watched with rapt intensity as Kierra moved her dildo into place.

Lane’s grip tightened on her, and he panted hard breaths into her hip as Kierra slowly slipped inside him.

“Put your fingers inside me,” Monica told Lane, and he complied quickly, still panting and now groaning as Kierra pushed inside.

“Am I hurting you?” Kierra asked, her smile slipping the tiniest bit. “Is it too big?”

“Fuck. No,” Lane ground out.

“He’ll tell you if you need to stop,” Monica added.

Lane grunted in a kind of assent as he shoved three fingers so deep in Monica her thighs were shaking.

“Now fuck him for me,” Monica demanded, feeling something settle inside her, something she hadn’t realized had been out of place before this moment.

And as if they all knew that something wrong had been made right, Lane ducked his head between her legs and started eating her out again, and Kierra gently took hold of Lane’s hips and started fucking him in slow long strokes that made him come apart between them. And Monica watched Kierra concentrate on Lane’s body, listening to every sound he made and shift of his body, giving him exactly what he needed and, by extension, giving Monica what she needed.

The sure knowledge that they would always take care of each other.