#ada with grey streaks in her hair

[citrine-elephant]

ada wong with grey hair, ada wong with grey hair

[immessingaround]

i can put together a list of stuff i like, stuff that i recognize as "cool" or "interesting". some of this stuff brings me joy. all of this stuff i am grateful for it existing. i want to be able to add and complete this list so i can look back on it and be reminded of what i have when i feel like i am nothing.

pete the cat

leonard cohen / songs of love and hate album

doing eye makeup (eyeshadow, liner, mascara)

garfield

polo shirts

jennifer Lawrence

ethel cain ptolemaea "stop" scream

also preachers daughter by ethel cain

chris pratt/jared leto hate hell yea

the cat emojis😸😹😺😻😼🐱😽😾😿🙀

saw iii angel trap

baggy black jeans

eyebrow slit

my old black lace up boots

ada wong microwave edits

ellipsis "dot dot dot" ...

people writing cuss words/weird things w lettering decor in stores (ex: 'kms' stockings at kohls)

7/11 by beyonce

gardettos

poetry i relate to

wham! last christmas pudding mix

considering broad and pointless philosophical questions (i.e. what is the meaning of life?)

christmas (ofc)

80s comedies (ferris bueller, better off dead, big, ...)

sad brokeback mountain edits

angel/religious imagery, iconography, references

alvin (and the chipmunks)

spelling "with/without" as "w" or "w/(o)"

trail mix

children of men last 40-45 mins specifically

tajin watermelon/peach rings

ikea model hand 🖕

pinterest

fuzzy socks

bti cg

ghostbusters

life is strange quotes "ready for the moshpit shakabrah" "holy shit are you cereal" "rachel in the dark room" "youre gonna DIE, motherfucker" "ik ur pumping drugs n shit to kids around here..." "i need to medicate" "shake that boney white ass" "no moshpit for you shakabrah"

classic movies

when u call me daddy (nvm she left lmao😭)

caramel coldbrew m&ms

(green) mechanical pencils

santa alter ego

mr x thomas the train mod in re2

weird/unique compliments

wearing jewelry

bolos or ties

my green skull necklace ilyyy

elektra from marvel (comics)

my handwriting idc if its messy

"can a loc come up in your crib?" scene from gta

"no i didnt kill him... but i did kidnap his wife!" scene from gta

pretending im a man

"i took her to my penthouse and i freaked it"

songs that begin like other songs but arent that song

12 am bathroom concerts

ppl who look unique

uno +4 cards

hawaiian shirts

(organized) clutter

bjork

keepin the streak (i mean chopping it up)

messing around in big stores

whole lotta red christmas ver.

baggy shorts (would totally still wear u)

we are the people by empire of the sun

mauve or plum UR MY FAV COLOR UGHH😩

a horse walked into a bar... i love that joke

updog "what's updog?" "not much. hby?"

we cry together clean ver.

being a lesbian so glad i dont like men

"walmart version of justin bieber"

grey spelled w an e

"culturally significant/pop culture moments i think about regularly/we dont talk about enough" videos

pretending im not living my own life

ornate things

going through old closet/junk

laying on the floor in front of my mirror w grouper or ethel cain playing (i want to get out of the house)

making spotify playlists after memes/tt audios

pajama pants

"LEAVE ME ALONE" "HES GONNA GET MEEE"

johnny cage (the international love edits from last year)

leon kennedy and those smooth operator edits

temp tattoos

roller skating

gorey/grotesque drawings

goretober

jar of flies by aic

pitbull mr worldwide mr 305

kevin gates ethical freak concert

jane from breaking bad

harris/chares my snake

painting my nails. all my beautiful nail polish ty😫

hash browns

mini beanie babies (the ones on my floor)

smores goldfish w the marshmallows even tho it got discontinued

eyeliner in my waterline

fake fruit in stores

deep red roses

george harrison

mix matched socks

coconut/lavender smells

coffee flavored things

soggy purple grapes

cashews

funky eyeshadow colors and palettes

my moms old lipstick colors (they are beautiful)

cherry flavored things

drawing on a mustache

turquoise and silver jewelry

samples in stores

physical touch (never get any😼)

purple hair dye (u made my life sm better)

gingerbread smells

my gta character

keyboard spam

smelling candles in stores ofc

carmex chapstick

immessingaround@myyahoo.com

gum / altoids (the pink ones)

silver jewelry/rings

last.fm

pineapple flavored things

mascara on bottom lashes

brownies

doawk

being a cowboy ig

no doubt

"your final challenge... let yo bih stroke yo bone"

"oh hell yea jigsaw you da goat!" audio

my celeb crushes

scooby doo characters

drawing crude cat drawings

catch me if you can

nacho from better call saul

chicken taquitos

aloe vera gel

i am mclovin☝️

these emoji combos: 🤠🔫, 🎅👍, 😹🫵

hoop earrings

commas, i literally abuse the comma key everytime i touch the damn keyboard

q tips

drawings ppl as drag queens (using artist's free will)

hair clips

xiuxiu

sky lights

fargo movie woodchipper scene

spotify obvi

[getitwhenyougotit]

Pay It Forward

Casey Novak x Fem! Reader

It was a late morning for you. You had so many things to do, but none of them were getting done before you had your morning coffee.

You threw on a hoodie over your pajamas, grabbing your phone, keys, and wallet - shoving them in your hoodie pocket before slipping on some shoes, and making your way out of the door.

The day was a beautiful, albeit chilly, autumn day. Leaves of orange, red, and yellow covered the streets and patches of grass alike. You decided to walk to the coffee shop down the street from your apartment.

Once you arrived, you noticed that the line was oddly long for it to be 10 am on Wednesday, but you didn’t mind the wait. 

As your wait in line had hit the 4-minute mark, you briefly raised your head from your phone, adjusting your glasses to sit comfortably on the upper part of the bridge of your nose. The bell above the door signaling that someone else was entering the shop grabbed your attention. This had already happened three times since you had taken your place in line, but the most recent customer of the coffee shop caught your eye.

Entering the long line, there she stood. Statuesque and beautiful. Clad in dark green slacks, a black satin blouse with a few buttons left undone at the top, with black heels that complemented her long legs. She had red hair that cascaded beautifully down her back, the slightly curled ends sitting softly at her shoulders. She was breathtaking.

She took her place in line and stole a glance down at the silver watch that adorned her wrist.

You took a long swallow before reluctantly turning your eyes away from the woman. Finally, it was your turn to order.

“Hey, what can I get  for you today?” The cashier says.

“Hi, can I have an almond croissant, a plain bagel with cream cheese, a large cold brew - with caramel and cold foam, and an extra large dark roast - one and one, please?”

The cashier nods and writes on a little notepad as you rattle off your order to them.

“Of course, anything else?”  Just as you were about to answer no, you had a thought spring into your head.

“Yes, actually, I’d also like to cover the tab for the redhead in the black shirt behind me,” you say, handing the cashier your card.

“Alright, coming right up.” the cashier smiles as they scribble your name onto a clear cup.

You step out of the line, taking a seat in a chair near the counter waiting for your name to be called. You start going through your emails on your phone, knowing your large order was going to take a little while to be finished.

“Uhm, excuse me?” a husky voice says from right beside you. You hum and slowly look up from your phone. 

Fuck, it was the redhead from the line. 

“This seat taken?” She gestures toward the empty chair right in front of you, a slight smirk playing on her lips.

“No, not at all” you smile back, insisting on her sitting down. She was more than likely waiting for her order now, too.

“Thanks for covering my order,” she says as she sits down. You turn your phone screen off, giving her all your attention. “You’ll have to let me repay you one day,” she continues, her voice laced with amusement and genuine gratitude.

“Well, I wasn’t looking for payback, but I might just have to take you up on that offer. What's your name?” You said,, surprised by the random streak of confidence you’d been on today.

“Novak. Casey Novak.” She extends a hand out to you for a handshake, 

“Y/N” you say, accepting the handshake. “So, Casey Novak, why are you all dressed up on this fine Wednesday morning?” You ask.

“I have court today. I’m an assistant district attorney for the manhattan special victims unit,” she says. You knew she looked important, but you didn’t expect her to be an ADA.

“Wow,” you say, “Impressive,”

“Yeah, Go Sex Crimes, I guess” Casey makes herself laugh at this one. “What about you, what’s your special occasion?” She jokingly gestures to your navy blue hoodie and grey sweatpants. She notices the emblem of Yale University embroidered across the center of the hoodie and is admittedly even more intrigued with you.

“Oh, uhm,” You think for a second before you come up with the perfect answer. “Sleep.” It was your turn to laugh at your own joke as Casey joins in.

“Oh sleep, I wish I could. Today’s trial is going to be a long one” Just as you were about to inquire about the case, your name is called to retrieve your order. You reluctantly stand up to grab the bag with your pastries and the cardboard cup holder holding your drinks.

“Well, Casey, I’ll be seeing you around?”

“I hope so,” she smiles brightly. “Here,” she reached inside her briefcase, finding a business card to scribble her personal phone number on the back of it. 

“I’ll be waiting for your call. I need to know what tab I can cover for you,” she winks as you accept the card. You bid her goodbye one last time as you make your way out of the coffee shop, the biggest grin painted on your face.

[milshelbsrequests]

Request : by anon—- please please young shelby sister caught in a forbidden love affair with much older luca changretta i love young sweet innocent shelby sister with luca sooo much the tension ahhh

prompt : none

Warnings : swearing, smoking, age gaps

Author note : dear lord was this ever hard to write. Hope you like! Also…. Wasn’t sure how to fit an innocent Shelby sister into this when it came to Luca. But I tried.

Y/N never went a single day without gaining the attraction of men. No, because as soon as puberty had hit her, just like any other Shelby she had become a sight to see. Men went flooding to the dark haired beauty like moths drawn to a glowing flame. Now you see…. Y/N always had a habit of allowing men to come and go when they pleased or whenever they came to realize she wasn’t there to give them what they wanted from a woman; Y/N had self respect, and although she enjoyed the company of men, she wasn’t about to make a fool of herself, and never even allowed a man get past a small kiss on the lips.

As for her brothers, they let her be to an extent. She was younger than the three older boys and Ada (but only by three years so that barely counted), but she herself was elder than Finn. The rules given to her by her elder brothers— more so Arthur as he had always been more protective over his youngest younger sister— and the rules were fairly simple. Don’t get pregnant, don’t make yourself look like a fool, and don’t date someone twice your age.

Seemed simple and straightforward, didn’t it? Y/N mainly listened to her brothers as she wasn’t defiant when it came to them, as ever since she was a little girl she adored them and did whatever they told her to. After all, despite her flirtatious streak when she got older and into her late mid twenties, she was a good girl and always had been; never disobeyed her Aunt Polly when she was keeping watch over the younger Shelby’s while the boys were at war, always did her homework as a child, stayed away from boys until she was old enough, and listened very well. Always.

So how on earth did she ever find herself in the half decent company of a man twenty years older than she was? That, she certainly didn’t know. She had taken her brother’s rule and absolutely butchered it. Hence the reason why no one knew about the man she was currently seeing. But the tall, dark hair and ebony eyed man seemed almost irresistible when she first met him; perhaps she found him charming, or perhaps what was charming was how he knew that from the moment she laid her grey eyes on him, Y/N was absolutely screwed.

Y/N had been at a party with her friends in London for the weekend— because believe it or not, she had real friends and these friends were an entire city away— and at this party is where they first met. It wasn’t fancy nor was it trashy. Y/N had been dressed up fairly nice that night, in a sparkly dress that floated at mid-knee length but had tassels that swooshed around with every movement she made. “Oh, Y/N, you’re a fucking minx if I’ve ever met one!” Y/N‘s closest friend, Renée, had squealed rather sharply when she noticed yet another man’s gaze landing on Y/N’s figure. You see…. The thing about dear Y/N is that at first she was always oblivious to men, but as soon as she noticed their presence, she had her mild fun.

“What did I do? I’ve been sitting here with you the entire night.” Y/A’s lips curled into a small frown as she went to turn her body in order to look behind her and follow René’s gaze as it pointed out a man.

But soon Renée’s hands braces on both sides of the woman’s shoulders and turned her back forward. “Don’t look. Christ, Y/N, to think that you would know this by now.”

”Well, I’d like to see who’s staring at me.”

Watching her friend’s eyes drift back behind her shoulders, she listened to her words. “Tall, handsome…. Quite handsome…. Italian, I think. Perhaps Spanish? But he’s older.”

Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “How much older?”

”A rough estimate…. At least twenty years.”

And Y/N had gagged in disgust at that. During the moment, she was the least bit interested in this assumed Italian man. Though, when Renée had left to go use the restroom, Y/N had soon felt another person’s company looming around the bar at which she sat. “You know, when pretty women sit alone at a bar without a drink, they are usually waiting for someone to come buy them something.”

Upon the over ridden American twang with the hint of a different accent, Y/N’s mind immediately filled with disappointment as American men always were always a waste of her quite valuable time. “And when an American usually walks into a pub, it usually is to by drinks for pretty women.” Y/N was rather quick to retort against the man who joined her side.

”Alright, so then what will it be? Gin?”

”Whiskey. If you will, please.” Y/N was soon to correct his assumption, as she was much like the rest of her family and had a taste for the strong and fiery taste of the amber drink. It didn’t take long until there was a glass beckoned in front of her as the Italian man got them both alcohol to waste their time on. “Well, don’t I get a name?”

There was a very slight grin on the mystery man’s features, and just after the glass came down from his lips after taking his first sip of whatever his glass consisted of, he satisfied her with an answer. “Luca.”

”No last name?”

”No, darling, that’s classified.”

With a smirk, Y/N turned her body so she could face the man more and extended her hand ever so slightly for him to shake; which he did, but very moderately. “Y/N.” she introduced herself, the smirk never leaving her lips while she spoke.

The older man made a tsking sound between his teeth while looking down to the young woman. “What? Don’t I get a last name?”

Y/N sipped her drink, and the sip seemed to take longer than usual as she wanted him to wait a moment in anticipation. “Perhaps. But not tonight…. it’s classified, you see.” She replied, throwing his own words right back at his face, and the slyest of smirks spread across his face like butter on warm toast.

And she stuck to her word, and never did give him her last name that night. Nor did she any other night they met…. but then again, he never shared his either. Y/N saw him often, having seen this mystery man whenever she happened to be in London and it was a wonder that she hadn’t been spotted with this man yet as her brothers had men watching every corner of England that they possessed and had power over. He occasionally stopped by her apartment in Birmingham, one that was located just outside of small Heath and in Saltley; which was only a mere ten minutes away, perhaps more so twenty if she decided to walk.

As she fixed yea for herself and the man waiting patiently on her sofa one week during one of the occasional times he couldn’t wait for her to show up at a club in london again, Y/N had heard the Italian man speak. “So, I would say that I’ve waited patiently for your last name, now havent i?” His tone was somehow teasing with the young women yet serious.

Giving a small laugh, she shook her head. “I don’t even know yours, so I would say I’m the one who’s been waiting patiently.”

”I do believe that it’s ladies first.” Luca had stated.

Handing him his cup of coffee, Y/N grinned as she spoke cheekily. “And I do believe it’s age before beauty, no?” Once Luca was blinking rather dumbly at her, Y/N released a girlish giggle. “Shelby. My name is Shelby.”

It had just been as Luca was bringing the cup to his mouth, and he froze completely before lowering it. “Shelby?”

Figuring that would be his reaction, because that was everyones reaction, Y/N waved him off. “Oh don’t think of it like that. I’m not like the rest of my family, and I can only imagine what you’ve heard about then.” As it wasn’t hard for anyone to catch ear of the Shelby’s and their business. “I stay clean of all of that rubbish. Im only a Shelby by biology, I swear it. You have nothing to worry about, darling.”

Well wasn’t this something? For months now he had been seeing a Shelby girl. He knew Thomas had two sisters, one that didn’t officiate with business and didn’t stick her nose in it. He just didn’t think. . . No, it would have been far too ironic. But with the way she spoke about so called business her family did and how he could have heard bad things, it had to be. Shit. “I promise you, darling. You won’t have to worry about my family or what they do, And I have a good feeling if you were to ever meet them, they would love you.”

“Thank you for the coffee, Y/N. But I forgot that I have business back in London I have to take care of.” Luca stated, standing up, and Y/N frowned. “I’ll come by again soon, that I can promise.”

”Luca—“ But by the time she had even spoke, he had grabbed his hat, kissed her cheek and left the apartment. Was she surprised? No, of course not. Because every man she met had this startled reaction. But god was she ever disappointed.

And due to the fact she lived only seven minutes away, despite her being so close to home, one couldnt think that it would stop her brothers from making sure her apartment was always under watch; especially during times like these when each Shelby was on a hit list. So this meant that as soon as Luca had left her apartment and one of the Shelby boy’s little watchers had seen Luca Changretta leaving the home of Y/N Shelby, he went running to the boys rather urgently.

The news practically made their lives flash before their eyes at the thought of Y/N being hurt. . . Because surely that’s what it meant, didn’t it? He was plotting to murder each and every Shelby and had just wandered out of their sister’s home. It was safe to say that it didn’t take the three of them longer than ten minutes to get there, perhaps even shorter amount of time because it was between life and death in their minds.

Finding the door to the flat unlocked was no surprise as Y/N had the habit of never locking the place up, even if she went out, so they naturally let themselves in rather loudly as they had all yelled for her in a state of fear. “Y/N?!” the in union call sounded out, followed by a few individual demands and shouts that stringed from them.

Popping out of her bedroom, fixing one of her earrings as she entered the main room, Y/N looked at her brother’s with furrowed eyebrows at their loud entrance. Not that they ever entered her house quietly and respectfully, but being this loud was out of the ordinary. “Um…. Hello to you lot as well?” She greeted back slowly. “May I ask what the fuck you baboons are doing in my house?”

The interior seemed untouched from the sight of things, and Y/N also seemed to be unharmed which came off as strange to the boys. It didn’t take them long to begin looking over the place; checking closets and nook, anywhere someone could be hiding because what if an Italian was still there? “Y/N, are you alright, eh, are you alright?What the fucks happened?” Tommy had asked her, taking her chin between his fingers and moving her head— left then right— in order to look over her, checking if she had any wound.

Swatting her brother’s hand off of her face, Y/N proceeded to move into the kitchen in order to grab the whistling tea pot off of her stove. “Yes, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?” She asked the lot, who followed her once they decided she was in fact alone in the house and no one that opposed as a threat was there hiding. “Can one of you plan on telling me why you’ve all come barging into my house? That would be lovely.”

”Fucking Italians were in here, Y/N.” Arthur stated to his youngest sister in his gruff, grunt like voice. “how many times have we told ya to keep them doors locked, eh?”

”My doors don’t need to be locked. I’m alright.” She stated, a small roll of her eyes being sent to them. “Here, Finn, you like coffee don’t you? Have a cup. I made some for my guest, but he left rather quickly. Had to work.” Y/N said distractedly, handing her younger brother a cup full of black coffee as she would hate to see it go to waste since she didn’t drink it, and the youngest Shelby absentmindedly took it.

Tommy, on the other hand, while his other brothers had let the tension die upon seeing that Y/N was quite alright, he was looking about the room with narrowed eyes. Then upon hearing how Y/N had a male guest over, his eyes narrowed more. “Who was here, Y/N? Tell us.”

Once again, the young woman’s eyes rolled. “A man that I’m seeing, Thomas. It’s my house, I’m allowed to have over who I please.“ Y/N stated as if it had been clear as day. “He dropped by for a visit, then left shortly after. Around half an hour ago, perhaps. Glad he left before you lot came barging on here. Would have embarrassed me horribly.”

”A man you’re seeing?”

Sighing, she responded. “Yes. I met him in London. An Italian-American.” She had no reason to lie to him, and each brother made eye contact with one another, something she was quick to notice. “What? Am I not allowed to meet people?”

”His name?”

”Tommy—“

”His name, Y/N. Now. Don’t make me fucking tell you a third time.”

noticing how he was scolding her as he did when she was a child, Y/N’s blood boiled slightly. “His name is Luca. He’s a really nice gentleman. i think you lot would approve…. Though, his is significantly older.” She muttered to herself as if thinking aloud.

Finn had put his cup down with his mouth nearly agape, but was quick to shut it, while Arthur swore. “For fuck sakes, Y/N.”

”What? Alright, I know it’s not ideal, but I can confidently say he’s a good—“

”Luca Changretta. Youve been fucking seeing Luca Changretta.”

[qqueenofhades]

Your Garcy dabbles are getting me through a rough patch, shooting you another prompt for them because they are my Happy Place 😊

"Come on, take my hand." (46) Garcy ❤

46. “Come on, take my hand.”

It's going on autumn in the tenth year since Lucy Preston-Flynn moved to this universe for good, and Oxford is always the most beautiful in the fall. The leaves turn gold and crackle underfoot, the aetherium shimmers in the sunrise and sunsets, the dreaming spires look their most romantic and haunted, and since the city still isn't quite electrified, shadowed streetlamps lead down cobbled lanes and turn the world just that bit strange and unknown, and the foggy chill stings Lucy's cheeks when she leaves for Somerville in the mornings. It's 1897, three years away from the twentieth century, but even when that arrives, it will still feel very far away. What is the twentieth century even going to look like, this time around? It's been one of her longest lingering questions. If all the world wars and political revolutions and genocides are still destined to play out just as they had back home, or if there was time for things to change, rivers to take different courses. She didn't know then. She still doesn't. Sometimes it threatens to drive her crazy, if she lets it. She tries not to.

Lucy and Flynn stroll arm-in-arm along the Thames towpath, as punts of enthusiastic collegiate rowers scull past at top speed; they have to keep in shape lest Cambridge shamefully beat them in the Boat Race, after all. Flynn is finally back from a long work trip of investigating rare magical artifacts in Austria-Hungary, many of which he discreetly slipped back to their rightful owners rather than turning over to the British Museum. Lucy hopes that he'll be home for a while now; he's been gone for most of the year, and while she's used to it, it's always nice to have him around for longer. The kids appreciate it too. And maybe Ada will visit this year at Christmas, the way she sometimes does but not always. Time is a very frangible concept in Faerie, after all, and it's been a while. Lucy hopes she hasn't forgotten entirely.

"Hey," Flynn says, picking up on her distraction. "Something wrong?"

"No. Not really." Lucy sighs. "I'm just thinking about everything again. The way I still don't know what's going to happen in this world's twentieth century, and if Mariah and Ethan are going to be okay if you're gone and I'm gone and we're both working all the time, and if Ada remembers who we are, and -- "

Flynn stops short, turns to her, and takes her face in both hands. Lucy's older than she used to be, of course; ten years does that in any universe, and she keeps finding silver hairs in her brush and faint lines around her eyes. It's different in a world without drugstore beauty treatments (though the Victorians have plenty of alternatives that they would like to offer, some more horrifying than others), and she's tried to accept it as aging gracefully. Flynn is in his mid-fifties by now, but of course the grey streaks just make him look more dignified and silver-fox than ever, and he's still plenty strong, vigorous, and far from the retirement home. Lucy has tried not to worry too much what could happen to her family without modern medicine. If it gets too bad, perhaps she could call Rufus on the Refractory-Glass and ask him to come get them, the option that Ada originally turned down. They still keep in touch, and Rufus and Jiya even visited last year, in person. Mariah and Ethan know vaguely about the alternate universe that their mother comes from, but it's still a delicate subject.

"Shh," Flynn says, speaking both to Lucy and all her swirling thoughts, the worries that never entirely go away. "It's going to be fine, I promise. We'll figure it out together, as always. Hear me?"

Lucy musters a smile. "You're right. I suppose it's a blessing that I don't know what's going to happen, not entirely. I can guess, and I can hope, and things were already different here before. After all." She shrugs self-deprecatingly. "You know. Magic."

"Magic is nice," Flynn agrees, "but it doesn't fix everything. And trust me, it can't do anything that we can't do for ourselves. Now come on, take my hand and let’s keep going. I think we're both in need of a good breakfast. When does Michaelmas term start again?"

"Monday." Lucy's lesson plans are ready, more or less, and she is looking forward to getting back. "Breakfast sounds good."

"I know." Flynn takes her hand and tucks it into the crook of her elbow, and Lucy adjusts the fashionable angle of her parasol with the other. They stroll out of Christ Church Meadow and find somewhere to come in from the cold, are served tea and pastries and steam up the windows as the city wakes up and rushes off to class, and yet again, whenever she is with him, her dear stupid best-beloved husband, Lucy can trust that it will continue to be happy-ever-after.

[fic prompts]

[necromatador]

Hey all! It’s Self-Promo Saturday so I’m making a post to tell you all about the story I’m working on! You can learn about these characters and more, get early sneak peeks and updates, and follow along the story as I write/post it on my Ko-Fi as a monthly subscriber (for as little as $1 a month!)

To The Bone

A fantasy story with weird-west vibes that follows the above 4 characters as they try to prevent a dark force from re-igniting a war between gnolls and humans. It’s also has a lot of queer characters (including main characters), at least one polyam relationship, and the importance of found family.

Xykk Splitwizzle: A young gnoll runt with severe anxiety and a condition known as bloodrage. Despite this, Xykk's small (comparatively, anyway) stature and usually meek nature, along with his upbringing as the son of Kralka's resident BoneReader (fortune-teller, scholar, and part of the Motherclaw's Council), made him the perfect candidate to charge with a semi-secret diplomatic mission to live among the humans of the nearby Devil's Bend. His job was to live among them, learn their ways, and keep an eye out for any threats to Kralka. But when a dark force seeks to spark the tensions between gnoll and man back into all-out war, he has to gather his allies to stop it.

Dr. Ada Shaw: The only doctor in the small town of Devil's Bend, Ada took over her father's practice after he died. Since he also would go out into the prairie to hunt, she grew up in a household full of rowdy hunting hounds and is surprisingly adept at handling unruly animals and patients alike. She befriends Xykk when she finds him living undercover in Devil's Bend, and joins him on his quest to stop the dark forces threatening to spark war between man and gnoll.

Kria Fastfang: One of the many daughters of Motherclaw Exah, Kria is a proud member of the Kralka Hunting-Watch and popular among the citizens of the village. While her older sisters were content to settle down to relatively normal and uneventful lives, Kria seems like she was born to inherit the title of Motherclaw. This unfortunately makes her a target for the forces seeking to take control of Kralka, to use it as a foothold for their war efforts between man and gnoll. With her life in danger, she flees to the only gnoll she trusts to help: Xykk, and kickstarts his journey as they seek to take down these dark forces and free both Kralka and Devil's Bend from the overhanging threat of war.

Edmund Foley: A teenager who recently moved to Devil's Bend, Edmund ran away from home to finally be able to live as himself and escape from under the thumb of an emotionally abusive and controlling father. He keeps to himself, so most citizens of the town don't know about his past. Edmund does odd jobs around town and works for his room & board at the Altarhouse with Shrine-Keeper Cohen, who hopes to hand over management of the Altarhouse to Edmund when he retires. Edmund is sent along with Ada, Xykk, and Kria on their mission as a representative of the Shrine-Keeper and of the gods. He has a surprising aptitude for magic, and ends up viewing the others as a sort of found family.

[halfelven]

the world is changed

/Arwen makes her final choice/ 

They find Arwen beneath a dying tree. She looks older now. Her hair is long and turned silver like their mother’s, but with streaks of white. Her face is grave and lined with deeper lines than they expected to find –  laughter lines, creases on her brow – it’s only been a few years since they last saw her, but the skin on her hands seems thinner.

Elladan kneels in front of her on the damp moss beneath the dying trees of Lórien. He takes her hands in his. They feel frail, and she looks up at him with the twilit eyes that he remembers from the last time he saw her, and from her childhood and from all the long years they’ve spent together. Only now there is something lost from them, and the light he remembers is gone.

‘It was sudden,’ she says. ‘He was too proud.’

‘He didn’t wait,’ Elladan says.

‘He didn’t want you to watch him die,’ Arwen says. ‘He was… proud.’

Elrohir sits beside her. He puts his arm around her. She is beautiful. Finally her face matches the wisdom in her eyes – the pain and the long years of joy.

‘I was...’ she says, ‘so sure.’

‘He should have told us,’ Elladan says. He touches her cheek.

‘You look so young,’ she says.

‘I’m not,’ Elladan whispers, ‘little sister.’

She cries at that, and Elladan does too. The sun is pale through the branches of the trees. Soon it will be night. The mallorn-leaves are falling. Soon it will be spring.

Elladan sits on the other side of her, and this could be any day in Rivendell, sharing stories and poems and songs, staying up too late by candlelight, until the absurdity of life became a joy in itself and they laughed until they ached and didn’t get enough sleep.

‘Come with us,’ Elrohir says. ‘You’re frightened. You don’t have to die.’

She places her hand on top of his.

‘I thought it would be easier. Ada always said I didn’t understand.’ She looks to the trees around them. They stand tall, but the silver bark is turning white. Water from the river seeps along the ground. The river grows wider. This too may be covered. This may be her grave. ‘I suppose I did not.’

‘Then come with us,’ Elladan says. ‘We will leave soon, for we feel the time longer now, and our life will not remain forever.’

‘We have to leave,’ Elrohir says. ‘There is a ship. Come with us. Do not die, so disheartened.’

A grouse flies into the air, low to the ground, the sound of its wings like an explosion that echoes through the woods.

‘Come with us,’ Elladan says. ‘Place your feet on sacred ground, the Undying Lands, and do not die. And if the Valar reject you, find within themselves no love for you – you of the Firstborn, of the Secondborn, of the Ainur themselves – if they find within themselves no mercy, then we too shall die, and thus never be parted.

‘Live with the world, see what comes, grow strong to fight at the end of time. Hold your memories of this life as treasures, but come to see Emmë again, come to see Ada. Come to live. Break promises. Estel will understand.’

Arwen twists Elladan’s hair around her finger. It is dark, dark and long and touched with silver, but still his face is barely lined. Still he sees himself as he always was, unchanging, in every mirror.

‘Do not die here,’ Elladan says softly. ‘Please, little one. Please. The grief would be too much for me to bear.’

‘There is no ship that would take me,’ Arwen says. ‘I made my choice. How can I take it back now, when my soul is weak within me, and my body is breaking down? I can feel it. I will wait here and take my death, as bitter as it may be. I have said my farewell to all that I’ve loved.’

‘But not to our mother,’ Elrohir says.

Arwen closes her eyes. Tears run down her face. She shudders and draws her grey cloak closer about her.

‘Break your promise,’ Elrohir pleads. ‘Estel is gone with his pride, still strong, accepting the bitter sorrow, accepting the hope for which he was named. But for us, is there no hope? None but to die with a world that we ourselves will not destroy?’

‘Estel told me to leave,’ Arwen says. ‘To repent, and seek a ship, but how can I go now, when my life is fading, and my children too will die?’

‘Then why would you leave them?’ Elladan whispers. ‘You have gone from them now, gone to die alone at the very end of winter? Why if you do not know within your heart that we shall meet them again, or the One has no mercy, no love, and knows nothing? For we, the Peredhil, have been made, and we cannot be unmade. And how should we be made to endure a parting beyond the ends of the world? Break your promise, break your vow. I will love no One who would not forgive you.’

Arwen closes her eyes. She is frail, but there is still a strength to her spirit that she feels, pulling her up, pulling her to the sky. She is the Evenstar. She is slowly dying, and around her Lórien dies too. Still she waits for something, but it may be that she will never find it. She stands. She has not broken yet; her soul is not yet shattered.

Death is bitter when it is a choice with no right answer. But still she is Elrond’s daughter. Still she is Celebrían’s child. Still she wed a mortal, and still she bore mortal children.

‘I will take your ship,’ she says. ‘I will live if I can. I will make this my last hope.’

They turn from the dying lands of their youth. They take a ship.

Lórien lies silent.

[starlessskies94]

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up suffering from really bad amnesia. He can't remember his wife, Ellie or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?

Pairing: Joel Miller x OC

Note: I said I was going to do it and I got lots of lovely comments that others wanted to read it so here it is! I hope you like it because I’m very excited about this story!

Prologue

Joel didn't know what happened. He was just supposed to take Ellie to the Fireflies and walk away.

When he thought back to the beginning, he'd been so against the idea. It all seemed so ridiculous. After meeting Ellie and Adaline he would've been more than happy to just leave the woman behind rather be in the company of yet another Firefly. But Ada had insisted on accompanying Ellie for the trip; having practically raised the girl since her mother had passed. Eventually Joel saw no reason to argue, didn't seem worth the time.

He hadn't expected things to get so complicated. But you travel halfway across the country with someone.

The older man glanced back at his brother as Tommy listened intently as Joel told his story.

How he and Adaline had protected the girl with all they had in them. How Ellie had stepped up and held her own in the world that was unknown to her. How hard she'd fought to get there, she wanted her immunity to mean something. So much so that he himself had maybe started to buy into the whole cure business. But Adaline had one night admitted her doubts to him, when Ellie lay asleep. He explained that the brunette had been losing faith in the Fireflies before she'd left Boston. A feeling which Tommy could greatly sympathize with, considering he had once been in the same mindset when he'd chosen to leave.

He'd met Adaline before; when they'd passed through Jackson. She had seemed nice then and could see why Joel had taken such a liking to her. She looked of similar age to him. Perhaps forty six? Forty seven if he had to guess. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail like Ellie's though it was much longer with streaks of grey running through the dark brown strands that brushed against her shoulders as she walked alongside Joel.

He'd noticed the stares between the two during their walk through the compound and the younger Miller had had his suspicions of there possibly being more to Joel and Adaline's relationship than just friendship. Though it wasn't until the unexpected attack on the dam by Hunters that Tommy's assumptions proved to be right when he noticed just how worried and protective his big brother had been over the two.

Pulling the older woman close as he rested shaking hands on her face, the love in his eyes had been undeniably there.

Tommy had been hopeful with his offer for the trio to stay in Jackson. Especially after learning of Adaline's experience with horses, she'd informed Maria over lunch that she had just finished her studies as an equine vet before the outbreak. He figured her skills plus Joel and Ellie's experience would have been extremely beneficial to Jackson. But he understood their situation even if he too had his doubts.

Joel took a deep breath, pausing in his seat, eyes cast towards the floor as he explained what had happened after they'd left.

And in Tommy's opinion it didn't sound anything short of a nightmare. Joel had shown his brother his scar and even as they sat face to face, he was still having trouble believing just how his older brother had survived such an ordeal.

" It was them. " he'd said. " They kept me going."

His heart had bled for Ellie when Joel had told him about David, how he and Ada had finally reached her, only to discover the poor girl soaked in that monster's blood. They walked away but it had come at a cost and it'd been the last shred of Ellie's innocence. There were no more jokes, no more puns or smiles. He'd sat on watch through endless nights listening to Ellie cry in Adaline's arms. It was the first time she'd called the woman ' mom '. Just a whimper as she finally gave in to exhaustion.

It was also the first time that Joel had swore he would never let any harm come to his little girl ever again. No matter the cost. Adaline had voiced her own desire to do the same and they'd even gone as far as debating whether to give up on the whole thing. They'd both asked Ellie as they'd reached Salt Lake City. But it seemed nothing was going to change her mind. Not after everything she had done to get there.

And so against their better judgement, they had reluctantly followed. Both wanting to do right by her. And they made it. They found the Fireflies. And because of Ellie they were actually going to make a cure. The only catch was...it would kill her.

Adaline had remembered her anger as Marlene had explained it to her. And after refusing to tell her where Joel was, she'd insisted on seeing Ellie. Again Marlene refused. It was only when the woman rebelled had her comrades turned violent, beating her down and stripping her of her rank before planning to cast her out of the hospital and leaving her to fend for herself. But she'd fought back, finding her way through the winding hallways and wards until she'd heard the gunshots from the operating theatre.

Joel remembered the look on her face when she'd finally reached the parking lot, the relief that washed through her brown eyes when she saw Ellie unconscious in his arms. Followed by shock when she saw Marlene on the ground, begging for the mercy she hadn't granted Ellie.

When she safely placed the girl on the backseat of the truck she'd found herself back at Joel's side once more. Staring down at the woman she'd trusted; that she'd once thought so fondly of. Even called a friend. Now when she looked at her, she only felt anger, betrayal. That she would so carelessly give up the life of an innocent child for something so uncertain.

Marlene had tried to save herself, begging for Adaline to let her go. ' Do the right thing.'

She didn't even flinch when Joel pulled the trigger. They saved Ellie and that was all that mattered.

"Damn Joel. That's a lot." Tommy said, swallowing hard as he tried to process everything. Joel simply nods in return, his idle hands resting on the neck of the guitar he holds before continuing with the cleaning of the wood. "What does Ellie know?" He asks after the quiet that settles between them.

"Ada and I told her they ran some tests. We told her, her immunity means nothing."

"And she believed you?" Joel shrugs. "She didn't say otherwise, though considering Ada used to be one of em'...I guess she ain't got no reason not to."

Tommy hums in agreement, leaning further back in his seat. Hands rested on his knees as he sighs in thought.

"So Ada huh?" He asks cautiously. He notices Joel flinch slightly at the question. The rag in his hand once again placed to the side along with the guitar on his lap. He sighs heavily before glancing back up at his younger brother.

"I love her Tommy. I ain't gonna to lie to you." Joel admits softly, his voice trembles as he says the words out loud for the first time. And when he does he can't ignore the flutter in his stomach.

His brother just gives a knowing smile and nods before pulling himself up from his seat. "We should head back." he says, grabbing his backpack. Joel follows suit picking up his own before reaching for the guitar leaning on the armrest.

The ride back to Jackson is quiet but Tommy takes it as respite to fully think through all his brother had told him. If he was honest, he couldn't deny he'd have done any different had he been in Joel's position. He tells him as much when they reach the stables. And when he promises his brother to take the secret to the grave if need be, he damn well means it.

Joel is grateful but still feels the weight of the lie on his shoulders. Though it somewhat eases when he sees Ellie. The girl's content smile as he sings for her makes it all worth it. His happiness grows all the more when he hands her the guitar and sees the excitement in her eyes.

When he bids her goodnight he heads back to the house, the back door gently clicked shut behind him as he makes his way through to the living room. It's quiet and still, a fire just starting to burn out in the fireplace, he can just make out the silhouette drifting on the couch. His hand reaching out to nudge a shoulder.

"Hey darlin'." He whispers. Adaline stirs with a gentle hum and stretches as she sits up. "Hey." She smiles rubbing at dozy eyes. "How did the patrol go?" She asks as Joel moves to flop beside her on the couch and she scooches across to make room for him.

He leans his head against the back of the couch, his eyes closed and head turned towards the ceiling.

"I told Tommy what happened." He mumbles. "Said he'd take it to the grave if he needs to."

Adaline sighs in response grabbing Joel's attention. He opens his eyes and looks back at her with an uncertainty clouding his eyes. "That okay?"

She stares at the floor, legs tucked underneath her. Her arms folded. She contemplates her answer before staring back at the man beside her.

"I don't regret it Joel...any of it. If I had a second chance at that moment, I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat." She unfolds her arms and leans against him, her head rested on his shoulder. He shuffles closer, arms draping around her and pressing a kiss to her temple then resting his head on hers.

"Me too." He breaths with a sigh.

[lovemesomerafael]

It’s Complicated                       Chapter 5:  A Bloody Mess

Source:  @fortheloveofbarba

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Read it on AO3

Frankie knelt where she was, next to the blood-soaked man with her hands up, thick drops of blood making trails of gore down her forearms.  

“Please… he had a pulse.” Her eyes were wild and her voice was a shriek of desperation.  “It was weak, but I’ve lost it now.  I need to continue CPR-“

“Step away from him, Doctor. Do it now.”  Dodds was using his commanding, authoritative voice, and Frankie was too dazed not to obey, even as she gasped with panic and resistance. She took two steps to the side of the body, not wanting to get any closer to Dodds or Benson, with their weapons drawn and aimed directly at her.  

When Rojas had cleared the body, Benson stepped to it, leaned down and felt for a carotid pulse. Nothing.  But the guy was still warm.  

“Please, Olivia!  Let me at least try!”  Rojas was starting to lose it.  Fat tears were trailing down her cheeks from eyes huge with terror.  

“He’s gone,” Benson said. “He’s lost too much blood.”

At that moment, a team of paramedics burst into the room and pushed the cops and Rojas aside to work on the victim.  Dodds took Frankie by the forearm and led her to the side of the room, giving them space to work.  

“Who is that guy?” Dodds asked, glaring down at Frankie in full cop mode as he holstered his weapon.  

“That’s…  That’s Alan Canady.”

Dodds and Benson shared a look.  If anything, this was worse than it had at first appeared.  In that moment, it got even worse.  The paramedics pronounced the man dead and covered him with a sheet.

“No!  He had a pulse!  I did CPR!  Try! Please, you can’t just give up!” Dodds had to hold Frankie by the shoulders as she tried to lunge over to the victim.

“Lady, that knife’s in his heart.  I’d bet my house on it.  He’s dead,” one of the paramedics said with no attempt at kindness even though he had no idea who the man had been to this woman.  

Frankie issued a wordless wail of despair.  

Olivia put herself between Frankie and the body.  “Tell us what happened.”

“I didn’t do this!” She shouted.  

“Talk to me.  Tell me what happened,” Olivia said sternly, leaning into Frankie’s face.  

“They… They… They let me go back to my office today.  The tweaker kid – his name is Juwon – he was waiting for me there when I went outside at lunch.  I wasn’t even going to go anywhere, I just wanted to be outside for a minute!  There was an FBI agent right there in the lobby, I don’t know why he didn’t see…”

“What happened?” Dodds asked, gently but firmly pulling her back to the facts.

“He stepped up to me and he said, ‘Alan knows about Barba.  If you don’t want what happened to your car to happen to Barba, meet him at this hotel.’  And he gave me this room number.”

“So you just came over here? There was an FBI agent a few feet away and you didn’t ask for help?”

“He said Alan would kill Barba if I told the FBI or the cops!”

“All right, all right,” Liv said.  “Then what happened?”

“I came here.  I didn’t even go back up to my office.  I had my wallet because I was going to get some coffee from the cart in the lobby, so I just hopped a bus and came here.  And when I got here, Alan was standing there, holding a knife.  He did this.  He stabbed himself!  Now I know what he was doing with his fingers…”  She looked away, as if remembering.

“What are you talking about?”  Dodds asked.

“He did this weird thing with his fingers.  At the time, I thought it looked like he was counting his ribs.  That must’ve been exactly what he was doing!  He meant to kill himself.  He meant to stab himself in the heart!”  Frankie turned back to the body and began to cry in earnest.  “Oh, my God!  That’s what he meant!  He’s …”

“OK, look at me,” Olivia said, putting a hand on Frankie’s shoulder and turning her to face Olivia. “So you get to this room, and then what? You knock?  What?”

“No.  The door was open.  He was just… standing there.  Right where he is now.  And he did that thing with his fingers, and he said ‘I get it now.  But if I can’t have you, I’m taking you with me.’  And then he…  just…” she mimed setting a knife against her chest, taking a deep breath, and pushing it in.

“He stabbed himself,” Olivia asked, looking into her eyes.

“Yes!  He put the knife right where he wanted it to go, and he just… pushed it in.  Hard.” Frankie put her bloody hands to her face as she continued to cry.  

Neither Dodds nor Benson had any idea what to make of this.  Could a person actually do that?

“OK, Frankie… let’s keep going.  What happened next?  What did you do?”

“He… he fell over, just like you see him.  I ran to him, I was screaming, I don’t know.  I grabbed the knife, but I knew if I pulled it out, he’d bleed worse than if I left it in.  So I felt for a pulse, and it was weak.  I didn’t have my phone, I’d left it at the office, so I just screamed for help. Then I lost his pulse, and I moved to do CPR, but the knife moved, so I had to hold it while I did compressions with one hand…  And then you came in.  Oh, God! I didn’t do this!  Please…”

Benson and Dodds eventually took Frankie to another room in the hotel while the CSU team began to process the scene.  They asked her again and again what had happened, but got no more details.  A CSU tech took an endless series of photographs of Frankie while Dodds and Benson questioned her.

An hour into the investigation, as Frankie sat on a small, uncomfortable chair, still encrusted with drying blood and still near-hysterical, a tall, severe-looking man in a suit entered the room.  Dodds and Benson shared a look, and Dodds went to talk to the man.  

“Who is that?  What’s happening?”  Frankie panted.

“That’s ADA Stone.”

“No.  Oh, please, no.  Olivia, I didn’t do this!  Alan did it! I tried to help him!”  

“I know, Frankie.  I hear you.  Stone’s good, but he’s fair.  Let’s just take this one step at a time.”

“Shit, Liv.  I can’t… If the ADA is here, I need to stop talking to you.”

Olivia nodded, looking into Frankie’s eyes.  “Yeah, Doc. You probably do.”  

Frankie dissolved completely into tears.  

“Listen,” Olivia whispered to her, looking over her shoulder at Stone to make sure he was engrossed in his conversation with Dodds.  “I’m gonna call Barba.  I’ll ask him to get you the best possible lawyer.  OK?”

Frankie could only nod as she choked on her sobs.  

It took very little time for ADA Stone to instruct Dodds to arrest Frankie.  Colleagues or not, Dodds couldn’t argue with the man’s reasoning. He tried to be as kind as he could as he cuffed her and explained her rights.  She continued to cry and look terrified, but she was beginning to get the glassy-eyed look suspects got when it began to sink in that this was all really happening. The only good thing was that she was smart enough not to say anything more about what had happened beyond repeating, “I didn’t do this.”  Those were the only four words she said to Peter Stone as she was led past him to the squad car.  

 **************

Frankie was finally allowed to change clothes and shower once they got her to the M.E.’s office and examined.  Not particularly out of kindness, but because her blood-soaked clothes were now evidence. She couldn’t have cared less what she looked like, which was good, because she looked pretty much the way she felt, but at least she was no longer covered in Alan Canady’s blood.  The awful, cheap grey OCME sweats were thin and baggy, and the stains on the yellowed T-shirt they gave her to wear underneath were something Frankie was simply not going to acknowledge.  Things were bad enough.  The only thing she allowed herself to think about the rough, white cotton socks and plastic shower shoes was that they were exactly like the ones she’d seen on ‘Orange Is The New Black’.  

From there, Dodds took her to the station house, where she was finally uncuffed and made to sit in the wrong chair in one of SVU’s interrogation rooms.  She was met there by a strikingly good-looking woman with beautifully-streaked hair and a suit so lovely Frankie noticed it even in her current circumstances.

“Dr. Rojas?  I’m Nikki Staines.  I’m your attorney.”   She put her hand protectively on Frankie’s shoulder and turned to Dodds and Benson. “Out.  Both of you.  And turn off the camera and the speakers.”

Dodds and Benson did as she asked.  

Frankie looked up at her attorney with huge eyes brimming with tears.  “I didn’t kill him.  He killed himself.”

“That’s what I hear,” Staines said, laying her briefcase on the table and sitting across from Frankie. “We’ll get to all of that.  Right now, I want to know how you are.  Are you hurt?  Do you need anything?”

Frankie shook her head. “I’m OK.  I’m… Is Barba…”  

“He knows where you are. But you’re not going to be able to see him for a while.  He shouldn’t even have gotten involved enough to call me.  I want coffee.  You want some?”

“Yes, please,” Frankie answered in a small voice.  

Staines didn’t allow the SVU detectives or the ADA into the interrogation room for the next two hours. She took her time, learning all she could about her new client and what had happened.  She gave no indication of this, of course, but she hoped the cops would find some helpful evidence.  Dr. Rojas’s story was pretty flimsy.  

And yet, Nikki believed her completely.  First and foremost, Nikki made it a point to believe all of her clients.  But she had also been attacked herself recently, and had learned firsthand the twisted, fucked-up shit men could do to women in order to control them.  Not only was she convinced that her client was telling the truth, and that Alan Canady got exactly what he deserved, but she was also pissed.  That was good.  Nikki Staines was more than a match for Peter Stone.  Pissed off Nikki Staines was his worst nightmare.

“All right, Frankie, let me tell you what’s gonna happen.”

“In a minute, I’m going to let those bozos in here, and we’re going to tell them you’re not talking. You’re already under arrest, so I’m afraid that means you’re going to have to be arraigned, and that’s not going to happen until tomorrow.”

“I have to stay in jail? Overnight?  In the Tombs?”

“I’m sorry.  There’s nothing we can do about that.  But you’ll be fine, I promise.  I’ll ask some guard friends of mine to look out for you.  And tomorrow, we’ll ask for bail.”

“I’ll get bail, won’t I? I won’t have to stay in jail?”

“If I have anything to say about it, yes.  You’ll get bail.  It’ll probably be high, and you’ll have to surrender your passport-“

“I don’t care.  Anything.  Just get me out of jail!”

“OK, OK.  I’ll do everything I can.  And I’ll talk to Stone, see if I can get him to agree to something.”

“Will he?”

“I don’t know.  He can be a hardass.  But I’ll be my most charming.”  

Frankie appreciated Nikki’s warmth and whatever she was doing to try to convey confidence. Frankie was not confident.  She was more frightened than she had ever been in her life.  At the moment Alan had pushed the knife into his chest, all she could think of was saving the life of an injured man.  She’d gone instantly into doctor mode.  She realized now that was exactly what Alan had been counting on, and she’d fallen, so easily, so willingly, directly into his trap.  She’d touched the knife.  Hell, she’d grabbed the knife.  And she’d been found by the police, kneeling over his body, his blood dripping from her hands and soaked through all her clothes into her underwear.  She could think of no single shred of physical evidence that supported her story or called into question the idea that she’d killed him.

She hadn’t killed Alan, but it looked very much as though he had killed her.  New York didn’t have the death penalty, but if Alan had put her in prison for first-degree murder, he’d have taken her life just the same.  It would just be a longer, more painful wait to die.

Frankie didn’t say a word as ADA Stone strode into the interrogation room, followed by Lieutenant Benson and Sergeant Dodds.  Nikki explained that Frankie had said all she was going to, and wouldn’t be answering any questions.  Stone looked unsurprised and grim.

“We’re charging her with Murder One.  If we’re done here, we’ll get her booked into the Tombs and I’ll see you in Arraignment Court tomorrow,” he said without expression.

“Listen, Peter, she’s a colleague.  She’s an FBI Agent, and she’s an NYPD Consultant.  Not to mention that she works closely with your office.  She didn’t kill your vic.  He killed himself.  How about we talk about bail?”

Stone scoffed slightly. “Ms. Staines, I hear you, but this woman is the definition of a flight risk.  I can’t agree to bail.”

“You can.  C’mon, Peter, at least think about it.  Ask for all the bail you want.  A million.  Two million. She’ll surrender her passport-“

“That’s my point, exactly. She has access to unlimited funds, she’s bilingual and has all kinds of contacts in Mexico.  No bail.  I’m sorry, Nikki.”

Stone turned around and left the room.  Frankie thought he might be the coldest, most terrifying man she’d ever seen.  She was more afraid of him than she’d been of Alan. Alan, at least, had had emotions.

 ************

It took everything Rafael Barba had not to attend Francisca Rojas’s arraignment the next morning.  He wanted more than anything to be able to support her with a look, a small smile, anything.  But he couldn’t.  First of all, he had already contacted defense counsel on her behalf which, if his office learned he’d done it, would get him a reprimand, at the very least. Second, he was a material witness. As much as he hated the idea, he was the only one who knew certain things about this case.  He was already in a terrible position with Stone, who hadn’t been happy to learn that a fellow Senior ADA was sleeping with an expert witness who was now Stone’s murder suspect.  Barba didn’t give a fuck about Stone, but he did care about his law license.  In order not to jeopardize that, he had to be unstintingly, scrupulously honest with Stone about everything he knew about Francisca Rojas.  And he had been.  

Stone now knew about the conversation Frankie and Rafael had where she’d asked him what the FBI and SVU would need to get a subpoena for Canady’s DNA.  It was entirely possible that she’d gone to Canady’s hotel room to get the additional evidence Rafael had told her they would need.  It had begun to look more probable with the discovery that the knife that had killed Alan Canady had come from the kitchen of Barba’s apartment. Where Rojas was staying.

Nikki Staines was eloquent, reasonable, and eminently logical as she argued that Frankie’s entire career had been spent in law enforcement, and that she had never had so much as a parking ticket.  Frankie stood, shaking in the dress Nikki had chosen for her to wear to her arraignment, praying fervently never to have to set foot back in jail.  It took Peter Stone about two minutes to crush that hope and get Frankie remanded to Riker’s Island to await trial.  All Frankie could do was stand, mutely shaking, too stunned and terrified even to cry.  

Nikki comforted Frankie as best she could, but wasn’t entirely surprised by the judge’s decision.

 *******************

Nikki could instruct Frankie not to answer questions, but she couldn’t stop Stone or the SVU detectives from asking them.  She sat next to Frankie, who looked pale and sick and heartbreakingly scared, around a dented metal table bolted to the floor in one of the interrogation rooms at Riker’s.  Frankie’s orange jumpsuit was about two sizes too big, which contributed to her look of lost confusion.  

“Dr. Rojas, the FBI agent in the lobby of Federal Plaza didn’t see you there on the day of the murder.  Did you see him?  Acknowledge him?”  Stone asked.

Nikki nodded permission to answer.  “I saw him,” Frankie said.  “I didn’t acknowledge him.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t think I was supposed to.  He was supposed to be inconspicuous, so if Alan or the tweaker kid –“

“The tweaker kid – Juwon Jefferson?”

“Yeah.  If they showed up, he’d see them but they wouldn’t see him.”

“Anybody else see you in the lobby?  Did you speak to anyone?”

“No.”  

“You said you took the bus to the hotel in Chelsea.  Did you use a MetroCard?”

“No, I just paid cash.”

“Talk to anyone on the bus?”

“No.  It was a short ride.”

Nikki interrupted.  “Where’s the bus video?  Why don’t we have that yet?”

Stone sighed.  “Camera on the bus was inoperative.  Did you talk to anyone at the hotel?”

“No.  I knew the room number, I just went up.  I didn’t want Alan to hurt Barba, and I hoped I could talk to him.”

“About what?”

“About… everything!  I hoped I could talk him into, I don’t know… leaving me alone.  Leaving Barba alone…”

“What made you think you’d be successful this time, after…”

“Peter, that’s enough. You want facts that’ll lead to evidence showing my client didn’t kill the guy, fine.  But we’re not interested in your opinion of her choices.”  Nikki gave Stone a mildly reproving look.

“Did anyone see you after you went through the hotel lobby?  Anyone see you on the stairs, or in the hallway, or in Canady’s room?”

“No.  No one but Alan.  And it happened exactly like I said.”  

Peter Stone had had a lot of pretty women look at him with those pleading eyes.  He was immune to it.  Besides which, he didn’t believe a word out of this one’s mouth.  

“And you have absolutely no proof of that, is that right?  Nothing to show that the victim stabbed himself which, I have to tell you, is a pretty fantastic allegation.”

“OK,” Nikki said, scooting her chair out.  “We’re done.”

“Frankie, please,” Dodds said, putting a hand on her arm.  “We need your help.  If there is anything, anything you can think of…”

“Find the tweaker kid,” she said, putting her hand on top of his.  “Please, Mike.  I know you don’t believe me, but I’m telling the truth.  Find the tweaker kid and make him tell you what he did.  Maybe Alan told him what he was planning-“

“Sergeant, that’s enough,” Stone said icily, pushing his chair back under the metal table and signaling to the guard to unlock the bars.  “We do not work for the suspect.”

Dodds shot him a look, but squeezed Frankie’s arm.  “We’ll keep looking,” he said kindly.

 As soon as Stone and the SVU detectives had gone, Frankie looked up at the guard, expecting to be led back to her cell.  “Porter’s here, too,” Nikki said.  “He wanted to see you alone.  He’s on our side.”

A tear slid from Frankie’s eye.  She sniffed, trying not to begin crying again.  She felt so wrung out as it was, she didn’t think she had another crying jag in her. Her head pounded and she felt weak and rubbery.  She had neither eaten nor slept since her arrest.  

Porter looked like a White Knight as he came down the barred wall of the interrogation room and into the room itself.  He went to Frankie and hugged her until the guard cleared his throat and shook his head. “You know the rules, Agent Porter.”

Porter sat down across from Frankie and took her hands.  “I’m so sorry, Frankie.  This is all my fault.  I should have been able to get Canady.”

“It’s not your fault, Dean. It’s Alan.  This is all Alan.  He planned this…  I did exactly what he wanted me to do.  He said he was taking me with him, and he has.”

“No.  No.  I do not accept that.  And neither do you.  Now, listen to me, Doctor.  I am going to find the tweaker kid and I’m going to make this right.  I will not rest until I do that.  Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.  Thanks, Dean.  I don’t know if it’ll do any good, even if you do find him.”

“Keep the faith, you understand?”

“He’s right, Frankie,” Nikki said, putting a hand on her shoulder in a way Frankie really needed.

“I’ll try,” she said, in a small voice.  Porter wanted to stab Canady himself for reducing his confident friend to this.  

Porter grinned lopsidedly. “Barba says hello.”

Frankie didn’t smile. Instead, she put her face in her hands. “Oh, I’ve screwed his life up so bad. Is he in trouble?  Is he OK?”

Nikki raised an eyebrow. She knew Barba’s reputation, and hadn’t been surprised when Frankie told her she was another of his conquests.  She couldn’t really blame Frankie.  Nikki had been tempted herself; Barba was hot AF, but she made it a rule not to date opposing counsel.  Still, there was something that sounded like real emotion in Frankie’s voice.  Poor kid. She had enough trouble.  Nikki hoped Barba wouldn’t break her heart on top of everything else.

“He’s fine, Frankie.” Porter answered.  “He’s cooperating with Stone, but he’s been clear he knows you’re innocent.  He’s just worried about you.”

“Tell him I’m sorry.”

“Let’s just worry about you, OK?  Barba’s fine. And you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“OK,” she sighed.

“There’s one more thing. What’s this I hear about you refusing to let your family come?”

“NO.”  Frankie said, more firmly than she’d said anything thus far. “I don’t want them to see me like this. I mean it.  Please.”

“Frankie, you deserve their love and support.”

“Look, I don’t think I’m doing this to punish myself.  I just… I can’t stand the idea of my family seeing me in this-“ she pulled at the baggy orange jumpsuit.  “Here,” she weakly waved a hand at their surroundings.

“I had a feeling you’d stick to that,” he said.  “But they’re persistent.  I see where you get your stubbornness.”  

Frankie’s mouth twitched.

“So I made a deal.”

She scowled at him.

“Rafe is coming.  Only Rafe.  He’s on a plane right now.  That was the best deal I could make for both sides, and it’s happening, so deal with it.”

Frankie slumped in her chair and nodded in defeat.  It would be good to see her oldest brother. She thought she could handle the humiliation of Rafe seeing her in prison, accused of murder, as long as her father didn’t.  She was grateful her mother wasn’t alive to see this.

 ***************

Barba laid in bed, hands behind his head, staring at the windows in the building across the street.  He was sick to his stomach over what had happened to Francisca.  He would never call a woman with a name that beautiful “Frankie.”  He wasn’t sure it was accurate to say that he missed her, after three nights together, but that’s what it felt like.  He could smell her on his pillows.  He could hear her voice laughing at him.  What the hell had happened to his life?  One minute, he was getting a new colleague he couldn’t stand, the next he was basically dragging her into his home, and into his bed.  It had taken him no time at all to become thoroughly preoccupied with her.  It wasn’t love.  Of course it wasn’t.  But it was… a sensation he hadn’t had in a very long time.  

And now this.  This woman he had met a month before, and barely knew, was in prison for stabbing her ex-boyfriend in the heart with a knife.  His knife.  He wished with all his heart he’d never met her.  Well, that was a lie.  He wished with about half his heart he’d never met her.  With the other half, he wished she was here with him now, safe and warm in his arms.  He knew that was nothing but hormones, of course.  Wasn’t it?  Then why couldn’t he get her voice out of his head, and why did it bother him so damn much that right this moment, she was probably terrified and crying, and lonelier than he was?

[damejudyhench]

Six sentence Sunday. (On a Tuesday)

Thanks for tagging me @funkypoacher ! Tagging @paliseizy @corancoranthemagicalman @needsmoreexplosions @impalaanddemons and @vairasmythe

I do not have six WIPs to share I don’t know how y’all do it.

From I Fought The Law:

It took Pearl a moment to organise her thoughts. She wasn’t used to speaking them out loud, which meant second guessing them. Because we fucked and then I found out he was lying to me and apparently I want to give him the chance to do it again, was a part of it; but that was definitely unbecoming of a Captain.

“Because he’s the best we have at hacking terminals and we need him to reprogram it,” she said eventually.

“How come Parvati isn’t doing that? She’s the greatest engineer in the colony.”

“Parvati is working out what we need the ships to do. And it’s much easier for her to do that on the Unreliable, with ADA as backup.” And she’ll be less flustered, she thought, because she can handle four dimensional math with deadly chemicals way better than she can handle us staring over her shoulder. “Max is going to tell the terminal what to do, once Parvati tells him. Nyoka’s here to watch our backs.” It sounded so simple when she laid it out that way.

“Heist of the century, right? The Board’s not gonna know what hit em when we’re done, boss! How about me, what’s my job?”

“Rapt bait!” Max snapped before she had a chance to reply, and they were off again.

From an untitled thing about pre-OSI Max, which may also become part of I Fought The Law:

The Vicar of Max’s township when he was growing up was Benjamin Stryker. He made the same stupid joke about rejecting nominative determinism every time he came to the school for Scripture class. But when Max knocked on the Mission door he asked him to come in and told him he could call him Vicar Ben.

He lead Max through to his office, had him sit in a red padded leather chair. Max was at the stage where his arms and legs were too long for him, and at home he always seemed to be either perching or slouching against the wooden furniture. This was different; this was a chair he could relax in; only he couldn’t relax, because the Vicar was watching him from behind his desk with a calm smile, and he’d been sent to the Vicar for extra study because he was chaotic.

“I know what you did, Maximillian; I won’t shame you by making you confess to it again. But I will ask you: why did you do it?”

Max clenched his fists, pressing his lips together. His voice was changing, and it might betray him by cracking at any moment. He couldn’t have the Vicar think he was crying.

“He made me angry,” he said eventually.

Vicar Ben nodded.

From a stupid Aquabats Picard thing which I nevertheless had to stop writing cause it was making me sad:

The Commander walked along the beach like he’d done a million times before, only this time he felt drawn and driven by something inside, a feeling that was like hungry but not quite. He stopped, the surf pounding in his ears as the wet blue sand sunk away beneath his feet. Jimmy was there, just a couple feet away, like he’d been expecting him. He had his notebook with him, the one he used for music and science and super smart robot stuff; only right now he was sketching in it. The figures looked super familiar, but the Commander couldn’t quite recognise them.

“Would you like to finish it, Sir?” Jimmy asked, his voice all warm, calm and exciting at the same time.

The Commander groaned. “Dude, I don’t know how!” It was so distracting, Jimmy was right there in front of him, his bright blue eyes, his cool metal hands so strong but so skilful, and he needed the Commander’s help...

He woke with a snort, dawn light streaming through the window. The Commander used to be able to sleep like a champ; but now the afternoon naps he used to take for the pure enjoyment of it were a necessity. His hair was stiff and streaked with grey when he went to the mirror, sharpie in hand. He dressed in his favourite rashguard, then wandered down towards the beach through the traditional estate of the Bat Commander, his home ever since the resettlement of Aquabania. The younger him would have thought it was awesome.

Jimmy wasn’t there, because of course he wasn’t. He hadn’t been there for twenty years, and hoping any different was dumb. But the Commander knew now what he hadn’t in the dream. The sketch had been of Jimmy Jr, and that had to mean something, right? One of the few rad things about getting old was that his powers had finally come in. Or maybe they’d been there all along, but the young Commander had been too impatient to recognise his psychic visions as hints and metaphors rather than straight-up instructions.

Corndog Industries, that was the place to start. Corndog hadn’t been seen in years, but he’d built Jimmy, knew more about what he was capable of than maybe even Jimmy himself. If there was any hope at all, it was there.

The Commander raised his clenched fist. “Let’s go!” he announced, but there was no one there to hear him.

[theroboticqart]

Bio here for Ada beneath the cut!

Name: Ada Meitner Nicknames: Age: 46 Height: 3'2 Species: Jackal Gender: Female Occupation: Botanist for Delta Industries Orientation: Bisexual

Appearance: Caramel covers her body with chocolate brown fur on her muzzle, the inside of her ears, her chest and belly and the tip of her tail. Her eyes are an ice blue color. Her hair is maroon and cut short, swept to the side in front of her right ear and has a grey streak through it. Her eyelids are maroon as well and her left ear is pierced with a simple silver ring. Her ears are tall and pointed and her tail is bushy but well maintained, ending in three points. Her usual outfit is a sleeveless delta lab coat. The lab coat was long, down to mid calf and black on the left side and white on the right with a square glowing orange symbol above the left breast. The front flapped over the left side. Underneath with the usual grey under shirt, a short black skirt and high black boots.

Personality traits

Likes: - plants - peace and quiet - Her work - Wine tastings - Cooking - Walks

Dislikes: - Loud noises - Fast food - Change

Personality: Ada is a quiet woman, who is dedicated to her work. She understand that Delta Industries has questionable motivations but she appreciates the lab and funding they give her to pursue her work.  Her demeanor is a very reserved one, not to say that she is 'high and mighty' however. She always prefers to prepare her own food and is very happy cooking for herself or friends in the kitchen accompanied by a glass of wine. Besides that she enjoys yoga, reading books and taking walks when she's not working.

Combat traits

Powers: N/A

Strengths: - Smart - A level of protection via Delta

Weaknesses: - No combat training - Somewhat easy to find trust in people - Will usually try and see the best in people, though if someone rubs her the wrong way it might take a while for her to come around

Social information

Positive relations - Her assistant Nangua - A handful of friends she likes to go to tastings with and visit with.

Negative relations - Alder Cander (Not outright but she doesn't trust him)

History

Ada had a good upbringing, her family wasn't loaded but well off enough to send her to college right out of high school, Ada taking her studies in botany science. Shortly after going through college she got into Delta began her career there. At twenty four years old she met Cander and, unbeknownst to her, had a sample of her dna taken from her and used as a genetic template for his super-soldier program. After this event she continued her work with the company with her new lab assistant, Nangua. She steadily rose through her department until she became department head at thirty. Nangua works to keep her ignorant about Shiv, Sef and any of Cander's other work in regards to her DNA and Ada remains oblivious to his work.

[nondescriptshipping-blog]

Hope

(I feel like I ought to write some words of...warning? I took this week’s trope and put it together with a War AU that I’ve been wanting to write for like ages. So if themes of war and angsty scenes upset you, please don’t read it. This could be an opening chapter for a multi-chapter fic if any of you would be interested? I’d love to hear your thoughts whether it’s yay or nay)

She is walking, trudging through the wilderness to a melody of laboured breaths. A heavy satchel thumps and bumps against hip bones that press in sharp angles against her skirt which is black like the sky above and torn at the hem. The fabric is spattered with dust and dirt, and sticks to her legs at every step. Her blouse is wrinkled, its little black buttons torn off in an act of desperation. That was a while ago when she thought she was suffocating, when clumsy fingers and blunted, broken nails clawed at the offending items to expose her throat. 

But she knows better now, knows that with every inhalation soot will coat her tongue and particles of ice will spin like a blizzard through her lungs. It’s unavoidable, this taste of war. 

My name is Hecate Hardbroom, she silently speaks to herself – a song that carries no tune. My name is Hecate Hardbroom, and I’m alive. 

Remembrance is a hard and flimsy thing; that she has learned too in the weeks, months, years since it all fell apart. On she continues, for the path is long and treacherous, and it is nearly dawn. The telltale pinks and oranges already start to streak across the sky and still the forest is but a stripe on the horizon. 

She pushes on with gritted teeth, clutching the pocket watch tighter in her palm which is already slick with sweat. Despite the cold that hisses in an icy breeze through her knotted, dull dark hair. Despite the the frozen bodies, the light blue limbs that stretch upwards like gnarly tree branches; terrible monuments of battles lost. 

My name is Hecate Hardbroom, and I’m alive. 

She reaches the line of trees a small eternity later and barely notices with glassy, red eyes the note that’s pinned up against the bark of an oak. A perfect, crisp square of white. She pauses, drags air into a body that’s unaccustomed to being filled up so completely. Oxygen aches and needles between her ribs, nearly ruptures the hollow of her stomach. 

Hecate, the note reads in delicate, curvy writing. She blinks, her eyes only slowly acknowledging what is directly in front of her. She shivers, glances over her shoulder, then hastily pockets it and sets off anew. 

Relative safety exists only a few more paces ahead. Roots and uneven, soft soil make the journey ever more arduous. She listens to the faint ticks of her pocket watch, as brittle as a dying heartbeat amidst the deafening silence. 

The cottage then – buried under vines and ivy though it may be – is quite the sight for sore eyes; the only concrete thing tethering her still to this world. With a tired slide of the hand, she removes shields and barriers that have become as worn as her magic itself. Inside, only darkness and debris greet her. 

A heavy, cracking sigh accompanies her as she sits down on the ground, knobbly knees drawn to her chest. She unlatches her satchel and withdraws the note once more, permits her eyes the time to adjust to the writing.

“Hecate, my name is Ada. You may not remember me, but I remember you well. You saved my life with your potions, your expertise and your tender care. You gave me back my purpose, and yet you offered your name with such humility, as though nobody had asked to hear it in years. I have been trying to find you for months, and at last I have succeeded. You are no tool, Hecate, you are not redundant or exchangeable. But you can make a difference, because you care! Please, if you are so inclined, reply to me with your decision. I will look for your answer in the hollowed out trunk of the fourth tree to the East from where you collected mine. May the Goddess of wisdom protect you.”

 Her body is but an empty vessel that remains unmoved under the onslaught of words which spin and drift aimlessly about. They’re as frail and delicate as the sand at her feet and she cannot gather them into one cohesive whole. But she can remember Ada, like she remembers all the wretched souls she has tended to. She can still smell the blood, feel the crystals of ice under her fingers she encountered while trying to brush out her grey hair. She can picture blue eyes, twinkling up at her, patiently and warm despite her injuries and pain, like a flickering flame amidst darkness. 

With trembling hands, she uncorks her last bottle of ink, turns over the note, strikes out her own name and replaces it with Ada’s.

“I remember you, Ada. I remember your kindness, as well as I remember the stench of carbolic acid and lavender that clung to every inch of the hospital walls. It was a particularly cold morning when they brought you in. You were bloodied and frostbitten and nobody thought you would make it. I didn’t think you would. You weren’t conscious for days, but you weren’t dying either. It was as though you had ruled out death altogether, made up your mind against it. A powerful witch if ever I’d seen one. And so I sat by your beside and read to you, stories and poems and news from the battle front, pages and pages which we later on had to tear apart and burn for warmth. Sometimes I thought you smiled in your sleep. And so I kept on reading until weeks later you at long last opened your eyes and gazed at me as though you hadn’t expected to see anyone else. I made to leave to tell the nurses, but you took my hand and bade me wait. “What’s your name?” you asked me – I could barely understand, so raspy and raw was your voice from disuse – and it sounded like the most natural question in the world. Not “Where am I?” “Who brought me here?” or “How long have I been gone?”, just “What’s your name?” And as I shared with you something that felt ludicrously intimate all of a sudden, you smiled. A few days later you were fit enough to be discharged, and as I watched you go I believed for the first time in a while that there was something like hope.”

She pauses, sets her quill aside and permits herself to release one shuddering breath. Between her lashes, salt shimmers faintly. She crushes it under the weight of her lids and feels her heart as though it’s beating out of her chest. Slowly, she begins to write anew.

“Since then there has only been darkness as our leaders trade away our lives, our purpose one by one in this sickening game of chess. I could have a great future ahead of me, that’s what all of them promised, if only I served their cause. It did not take long before I realised that they didn’t want me, only my magic and ability. Well, there isn’t much of that left anymore either. I have faded and dulled, Ada; some days I can hardly muster the strength to remember who I used to be. But I do remember you, and so I will meet you, I must if there is to be hope for me yet. Name time and place, and I will find you there.”

My name is Hecate Hardbroom, she thinks as she folds up the note, my name is Hecate Hardbroom, and I will survive.

[jade-island-lives]

The Light Force: 7-15-20

“I still wouldn’t have called. The therapy drains you, and you need you time to recover.”

“I have been doing therapy since the end of the war, I am used to it…” Ada reassured the older woman gently, her eyes scanning the lines upon her face and the grey streak in her bunned hair, “If I really couldn’t have made it, I would have called you.”

Jolene scoffed, “No you wouldn’t have. You could be screaming in agony in your head now and you still would have tried to meet me. You have the blood of Demara and Adair, fire and ice. Respectively two of the most resilient and stubborn bloodlines I have ever come to know. Besides, I’ve known you since you were in diapers.”

“I have my father’s heart and my mother’s will,” Ada mused, “Surely you must be used to that by now.”

The Light Force Taglist:  @toboldlywrite @spellboundinks @hannahs-creations @miniaturemagic @soul-write @wchwriter @dawnoftheagez 

[azaisya]

stars in our veins

I have a modern fantasy au?? I don’t want to post this to ao3 bc my timeline has changed but , , , i still like it and also the Peredhil kids and Aragorn are Good

Whispers shifted at the edges of Aragorn's consciousness, pulling him from the dark mists of his dreams. With great reluctance, he found himself awake.

Brow furrowing, Aragorn twisted in his blankets, instinctively reaching for his girlfriend. When his fingers grasped nothing but empty sheets — startlingly cool despite the warm night — Aragorn sat up, blinking bemusedly in the dusky light.

New York — eternally awake, even when in the throes of night — glittered faintly beyond the gauzy white curtains that covered the windows. The quiet felt pervasive and unnatural; it felt as if a haze had fallen over the normal honking and nightlife of the city.

Aragorn had just opened his mouth to call for Arwen — their apartment wasn't very big, after all — when he heard her voice, lowered to a whisper.

"—won't tell Ada, and that's why you're here, isn't it?"

Another voice, lower and indistinctive, responded. Aragorn's frown deepened. That vice, muffled though it was, tugged at something in his memories, like a once beloved dream.

Arwen's soft murmur sharpened into something more dangerous. "I said I wouldn't. But I still think you should tell him."

Another indistinct reply sounded, different from the first but still eerily similar. It was like listening to an echo, or a memory.

"I don't care," Arwen's gentle voice replied, "He worries. He deserves to know that you're still alive."

With mounting concern, Aragorn kicked his legs over the side of the bed and padded silently into the living room. The shadows in the apartment seemed to come alive at this time of night, twisting and fumbling and seeking to tear themselves away and join their fellows in the night sky.

It's the witching hour, Arwen always said, voice glittering with traces of star-bright laughter.

Without a sound, he poked his head through the hall, seeking his girlfriend's dark hair and summer-blue night gown. He found her easily, a brilliant wisp of a dream in the quaint lamplight of their almost painfully mundane living room. She sat on the arm of the couch, bent over another figure, her pale fingers flashing as she wrapped a strip of gauze around pale flesh.

For a second, Aragorn thought he was seeing double. Two seemingly young men sat perched on the couch, long limbs sprawled carelessly on the suede. They were raven-haired and fair of face, with slate-grey eyes and danger in their footsteps. There was a strange feyness to the slant of their eyes and the overwhelming grace of their bodies, a trait they shared with the lovely girl standing over them.

But unlike Arwen, there was a haggardness to their faces, a terrible sickliness that seemed to cling to their bones and seep from their pores.

Aragorn knew them both, knew their every mood and jibe, and their state both startled and worried him.

Now content that Arwen hadn't summoned a demon while he'd been sleeping, Aragorn entered the room fully, scuffing his heels on the floor as he did so.

Arwen looked up, the movement bird-like in its abruptness, and her lips twitched into their customary smile: brief but genuine, like the moon at its height.

But the twins reacted as if they'd seen a ghost, faces paling and jaws falling slack. "Estel?" Elladan asked, puzzled, "What are you doing here?"

Aragorn leaned against the couch beside Arwen, dismayed at seeing the bloody cuts that covered both twins. The first-aid kit was propped open on Elrohir's lap, and the younger twin twisted around to stare at Aragorn.

Arwen made a clicking sound in the back of her throat. "Don't move unless you want me to make this hurt."

Elrohir dropped back into his previous position, watching Arwen warily as she stitched up a particularly bad cut on his arm.

"What happened to you two?!" Aragorn demanded, shocked. He'd grown up sparring with the twins, and he'd never seen them with anything worse than minor bruises.

Elladan, who was not being tended to and thus could move however he wished, swiveled his head to stare at Aragorn, fathomless grey eyes narrowing. "Why are you here?"

"I live here," Aragorn replied patiently, already reaching for the alcohol swabs to clean the cuts on Elladan's face. "Now tell me what happened."

Elladan was as poor a patient as ever, twisting out of the way when Aragorn tried to clean his face. "But why do you live here?"

Arwen finished her task and fixed her oldest brother with a sharp stare. "I'd like to know what happened as well."

Elladan ducked under Aragorn, who mumbled something inappropriate under his breath, and protested, "But, Arwen, why is Estel living with you?"

For the first time that night, the vicious creature that dwelt beneath Arwen's skin was revealed. Eyes piercing, she smiled deliberately, teeth suddenly sharp beneath her thin lips. "Elladan."

Elladan immediately sat still, and Aragorn happily began cleaning the grime from his cuts. Stripped from his humor and bristling, he felt suddenly brittle, as fragile as a fledgling fallen from the nest. His skin felt papery beneath Aragorn's fingers, and he frowned to see the thin black threads — like forgotten shadows — that twisted beneath Elladan's skin.

Elrohir shifted until he was at his twin's side, gaze oddly defiant. "We've been putting to right what is wrong."

Aragorn tossed his swab into the trash and replied warily, "Righting wrongs is not always your right." He knew his brothers, knew how quick to anger they were.

They made a sorry sight, sitting on the couch with their marble skin marred by strange cuts and all-too-human bandages. Darkness lurked beneath their eyes, and there was a stalwart defiance in the sets of their shoulders. But exhaustion exuded from them both in waves, and Elladan seemed nearly sick with it.

There were those who said Elrohir was the gentler of the twins.

They would be wrong.

Elrohir's lips drew back into a feral snarl, and a streak of raven feathers erupted across his skin. "We did not come here to be judged by you!" The feathers faded, and his skin returned to its unnatural whiteness. The cuts that Arwen had not covered stood out, starkly scarlet against his star-pale flesh. "By either of you," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Of the three blood siblings, Arwen had always been the intellectual one. Elladan and Elrohir were the ones with their souls forged in flames; Arwen had always belonged to the stars, distant and cold. "Yes, but you came anyways and knew we would.” She paused, considering, and amended, “Or, you knew I would. You didn’t know Aragorn was here. Tell us what happened, El."

Elrohir looked down, unexpectedly chastised by the childish nickname. Aragorn seized the lull in the conversation and extended his hands towards the younger twin, fingers brushing feather-light above his injuries. A power — as natural and unexplainable as the universe itself — shifted, pooling at Aragorn's fingers and spilling into Elrohir. The burning of his cuts calmed, and his flesh knitted itself back together.

Elladan raised his head to look at his sister, allowing her to see the emotions that stormed beneath his glassy grey eyes. "We need somewhere safe to stay, Arwen."

There was history in those words, history that Aragorn didn't understand, and he paused in his work to frown at his girlfriend.

A shadow passed over her face, and her voice was carefully neutral when she spoke. "You've been hunting the Corrupted?"

Elrohir felt the shock that lanced through Aragorn at those words, and his eyes flashed fleetingly to him. "It's not as bad as she makes it sound."

"No," Aragorn agreed, "It's not. It's worse." He drew his hands away, for his hands were shaking now, and he didn't want the healing bond to be active when he was so distressed. "The Corrupted are twisted abominations of that which was fairest. They’re dangerous." There was some resentment in his tone, just the barest whisper of anger. He loved the twins, but he would forever be angry with them for vanishing without a trace on his eighteenth birthday, taking nothing but the clothes on their backs and the ceremonial longswords that hung in Elrond's study.

Elrond had been shattered to discover his sons had left, vanished into the night as they had decaded prior, and Aragorn had missed them terribly.

A bright light — foul and foreign — entered Elrohir's eyes, and he insisted, "We're dangerous too, Estel! Elladan and I— it is our sacred duty to keep the streets free of those monsters."

"But you needn't vanish for years on end!" Aragorn said abruptly, louder than he'd intended to.

Both twins flinched, for Aragorn so rarely raised his voice. He'd always been a happy child, and he'd grown into a noble adult.

"You don't understand!" Elrohir cried, making to stand. But Elladan grabbed his arm and kept him down.

"We have other people to fight," Aragorn protested. "Glorfindel has always kept the peace in Imladris—"

"But Imladris' borders don't even reach Maine," Elladan said quietly, "And Glorfindel cannot protect everybody."

Confused, Aragorn asked, "So you take it upon yourselves to singlehandedly hunt down all of the Corrupted?"

"If that is what it takes to protect innocents, then yes," Elrohir snapped.

Frustrated, Aragorn demanded, "Do you know how many of them there are on the East Coast alone?"

Arwen's voice, soft but powerful, cut through their argument. "Naneth died to give us a second chance."

The twins flushed angrily and, for a second, something foreign and ugly and dangerous filled their eyes. Elladan exclaimed, "And we're taking it by avenging her!"

Arwen's eyes flashed, and something very old awoke within her. "She didn't die so you could waste your souls on something as foul as revenge! Did you learn nothing from Ada's lessons? Would you honor her memory by squandering your souls on killing?"

"What else would you have us do?!" Elrohir cried, voice cracking. "Go to a school that can teach us nothing? Buy an apartment in New York? Live with our little brother?"

Arwen stood still as a statue, but there was something darkly angry under her passive expression. "Aragorn is not my bother. I was not raised with him, and what little blood we share has been diluted enough that I don't care. I don't care if you think college is useless! I'm not telling you to live my life. I'm telling you to live. You deserve so much better than devoting your life to vengeance."

Aragorn murmured, "Ada will be happy to see you again. He hasn't been the same since you left."

Something crumpled beneath Elladan's eyes. "I- I don't know if I can do that," he whispered, and everybody in the room noted his switch from we to I.

"You can," Arwen said fiercely, reaching forwards and grasping his hands, "You can let go of your anger and your revenge and even your oath!"

Elladan just stared miserably at her. "You don't understand," he said, but the words were weaker than before. "We've spent so many years hunting. If we give up now, what was it all for?"

Elrohir cut off whatever Arwen had been about to say, eyes blazing. "We can't just stop! We swore an oath, Arwen!"

"Then break it," she replied, matter-of-factly.

Elrohir's lips curled into a sneer. "You don't understand."

"But I do!" Arwen exclaimed, her frustration finally breaking her calm mask. Something swift tore across her face, and she leaped from the couch and turned away from them. "You don't! I loved Nana just as much as you did, but I don't go on a massacre because she died!" She turned abruptly, star-bright eyes suddenly glittering with tears. "Can't you see that you're doing nothing but hurting everybody?"

Taken aback, Elrohir could only stare. Aragorn scowled at his brothers, and raised his head to look at Arwen. He felt her mind, feather-light, touch upon his, and he sent a wave of reassurance to her. The panic in her eyes faded a little, but she didn't stop crying.

Elladan slowly stood, and it didn't escape Aragorn's notice that he was favoring his right leg. "Oh, no, don't cry." Dismayed, he tried to step forwards, but Arwen stopped him with a look. "Arwen, please. We're sorry. I'm sorry. I just—" He trailed off, clearly miserable.

Quietly, Elrohir murmured, "I'm sorry too." He looked sheepishly from his blood sister to his foster brother. "We've been idiots, haven't we?"

"Yes!" Arwen cried, tearfully furious, "You need to grieve, not kill." She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes.

Aragorn perched on the opposite side of the couch and asked, "You'll stop disappearing now?"

Elrohir shrugged. "We'll try. We can't break our oath."

Aragorn only knew bits and pieces of the twins's story. He'd picked up hints and whispers and sorrow from his foster father and from Arwen, and it horrified him to learn that his brothers had truly sworn to wipe out the Corrupted.

"But you can visit home more often," he suggested, tactfully not mentioning the last three years that had passed without a word from either twin.

"Or not bring swords to Thanksgiving," Arwen added, "And . . . I know I cannot ask you to break your oath. Just . . . please don’t be so reckless." She alighted on the suede, hair fanning out on the back of the couch, and Aragorn instinctively reached out to rest his hand o her shoulder.

Elladan closed his eyes. "I don't know if we can stop, Arwen."

"You can," she said decisively, "Hunting the Corrupted is not a bad thing, El. But to do so out of hate? For revenge? That will destroy your souls."

Both twins flinched and Aragorn's eyes widened. "It has, hasn't it?" His grey eyes suddenly flashed silver, and the sleep-mussed human man that had been sitting there moments ago was replaced by something otherworldly. To his eyes, Arwen gleamed with starlight. She was pure and beautiful and whole; she belonged here. But the twins. . . .

Their souls were torn nearly to ribbons, blackened feathers drifting from pale strings that strained to hold skin onto bones and life onto flesh.

Horrified, Aragorn reached out. "You can't Phase anymore, can you?" His fingers touched Elladan's knee, lightly, and the older twin flinched as though struck. Milky light streamed from Aragorn into Elladan, soothing the rifts in his soul.

Elladan relaxed against the couch, eyes fluttering shut. "Estel, we haven't been able to Phase since Nana died."

Arwen shuddered and ran her hands over her bare arms. "I can't imagine being trapped in my own skin."

Elladan cracked one eye open. "It's not fun," he said miserably.

Aragorn maneouvred around Arwen to repeat the process with Elrohir. Elrohir protested at first, but Aragorn firmly placed his hands on the younger twin's shoulders. "I've gotten better since last time," he said mildly, "I won't turn your skin blue."

"As if I'd trust you," Elrohir said, his voice trembling with the memory of the banter they'd once had.

Aragorn flashed a brief smile, unsure if he had forgiven his brothers yet, and sent his power into Elrohir. The younger twin immediately sighed and fell limply against Elladan, eyes slipping shut as well.

Arwen unfolded herself from where she sat, eyes lidded with exhaustion. "They'll fall asleep soon," she murmured.

"That's good," Aragorn replied, holding his arms out to her. "They need healing, and lots of it. How long have they been hunting?"

Arwen threw herself at him, her form shifting into a raven halfway through her leap. He caught her and held her close to his chest, taking comfort in her familiar feathers. In his mind, she said, Too long.

"That's true enough," he agreed, checking one last time to make sure the twins were alright. They were both sound asleep, expressions peaceful for the first time that night. "They'll need Ada to see to their souls. I'm not sure if they'll ever be whole enough to Phase again."

In his arms, Arwen trembled, and he ran his fingers over the soft feathers on her head. They wouldn't have come to us if they hadn't been injured. Their promises tonight might just be their exhaustion.

"I'll text Ada in the morning," Aragorn said decisively, turning to head back to the bedroom, "And I'm linked to them right now. I'll notice if they leave."

They'll be angry, she murmured, They've spent so long avoiding any sort of comfort.

Aragorn shrugged. Arwen shifted and took to the air. By the time she hit the bed, she was human again, her night-dress stained pitch black, and she curled up in the covers and closed her eyes.

Smiling softly at her, Aragorn settled in beside her. "They'll be alright though," he murmured, burying his face in her hair, "We won't let them fall into darkness again."

She turned to grasp his hand, and he could feel the stars beneath her skin. "Not ever again."

(The Peredhil are shape-shifters in this world. Aragorn, who’s descended from Elros, isn’t able to Phase like Arwen can because his “other” blood is too diluted by “human” blood, but he has enough “otherness” to heal)

[sinsiriuslyemo]

7.

Fall had finally come months later, and Rafael had been relieved as everything returned to business as usual. Well, things were mostly back to normal, with the exception of Liv expressing some concern over the fact that months after Christmas, Noah was still wearing a hat and gloves whenever he played in his room. According to the Lieutenant, the boy had even taken all of the chairs from the dining room table and moved them into his bedroom, positioning them as reindeer in front of the foot of his bed. Apparently the boy was not as good as Rafael had hoped at keeping secrets, and he’d even considered asking for his ten dollars back.

Rolling over in his bed, he sat up, wiggling his toes on the hardwood floors. He could hear Sonny in the kitchen, and smiled softly as he smelled the coffee lingering in the air. The taller man had a habit every once in a while of letting himself in early in the morning to make coffee and cook breakfast for Rafael for when he got up. Standing, he went into the bathroom to relieve his bladder and begin his morning routine.

When he stepped up to the sink to begin shaving before his shower, he shouted at his reflection.

His face. It was fatter than normal, and he had almost a full beard that normally would’ve taken days to grow in. As he leaned in closer to the mirror, he felt his stomach press against the edge of the vanity. Looking down, he cried out again, running a hand over the slightly pudgier stomach.

“Hey, what’s the matter? You have a bad--whoa.” Sonny’s eyes widened at the sight of his boyfriend. “How did this happen overnight?!” he asked, looking Rafael over.

“Oh didn’t I tell you? I’m going undercover as the Pillsbury Doughboy,” Rafael quipped. “Obviously I’m just as confused as you are.”

“You definitely didn’t look like this yesterday,” Sonny mused, shaking his head, and Rafael suddenly felt incredibly judged.

“Is it a problem?” he asked. “I mean does it make me less attractive to you?”

“No, nothing like that, it’s just...I don’t know, it’s just different. Doesn’t change anything,” Sonny assured him, brows furrowed as he looked the ADA over.

“Jesus Christ,” Rafael groaned, putting a hand over his face.

“Raf, really. It’s not so bad, so you gained a little, must mean you like my cooking, so I’m doing something right?” Sonny replied, grinning proudly.

“It’s not that. My suits, what the hell am I supposed to wear? I’m not gonna fit into any of my suits,” the shorter man complained, looking up at him.

“You sure? What about the one you wore for the McKalan case?”

“Oh, would you mean the one where I had to suck in my gut to be sure it wouldn’t hang over my belt?” Rafael snapped.

“Hey, calm down. We’ll just find you something else to wear, it’s no problem.” Sonny put a hand on Rafael’s shoulder, massaging softly.

“What am I going to wear? What?”

“You got some baggy sweats and maybe a sweater for today? You can stop by the tailor’s on your way home,” Sonny suggested.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“You don’t have court today, it’ll be fine,” Sonny assured him.

“I’ll be out in public today, it will not be fine,” Rafael replied, arching a brow.

“Look, everybody has a day where they haven’t done laundry and they’ve run out of clothes. It’s not that bad,” Sonny said as he moved into the wall in closet and rummaged through Rafael’s drawers. “Here we go,” he called out, pulling out a sweat suit and laying out on the bed.

Rafael eyed the grey, cotton outfit on his bed, arching a brow and sighing heavily. Shaking his head, he ran a hand over his beard.

“I need to at least shave this off, I look like a grizzly bear.”

“I think you look kinda sexy with facial hair,” Sonny replied, smirking as he shrugged his shoulders.

Before Rafael could respond, the taller man’s cell phone rang, and he reached into his pocket, answering.

Moving back into the bathroom, Rafael began to lather his face to shave the beard, and he couldn’t help but notice the silver streaks in his hair seemed a bit more prominent than usual. Fantastic. Not only was he growing his facial hair at an alarming rate, but he was getting greyer.

“I gotta go, Rollins thinks she found our perp,” Sonny said, coming into the bathroom just as Rafael was wiping the excess shaving cream off his face. “You look good, Raf.”

“I look like a blimp,” Rafael said with a frown.

“Nah,” Sonny replied, coming to lovingly rub the other man’s stomach. “You just got a little extra tum. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Least one of us thinks so,” Rafael mumbled, and Sonny kissed his mouth.

“I’ll probably see you later at the precinct,” he said, kissing him again before he patted his butt. “Have a good day.”

“Doubtful,” Rafael replied.

He walked into the precinct reluctantly, having decided to simply work from home to avoid being out in public, but Sonny had convinced him to come observe the interrogation. So here he was, in a sweatsuit a bit too snug for his bloated body, already able to hear the teases from Benson for his dressed-way-down appearance, on his way to listen to Fin and Rollins interrogate their suspect.

“Barba,” Liv said, eyes going over him. “What happened?”

“Bee sting,” he lied and Sonny rolled his eyes. “Doctor said the swelling should go down eventually.”

“Sorry to hear about it,” Liv replied. “You’re just in time, they’re just making our guest comfortable.”

“What do you have on him?” he asked as he looked at the man sitting in the next room through the one way glass.

“Photos of an old crime scene found in his car, taken from street view. This from months ago, the 2-5 caught the case. See the tape along the bottom?”

“Oh no…” Rafael groaned softly, frowning at the photo.

“What? Do you see something?” Liv asked, moving a little closer to him and looking down at the photo.

“It’s just...the elves,” he replied, pointing at the figures in the front yard of a neighboring brownstone.

“The...what about the elves?” Benson asked, furrowing her brows at him, then at Carisi, who shrugged and shook his head.

“They look so funny,” Rafael replied.

“I think they’re supposed to look funny,” Sonny mused. “They’re elves--”

“The elves are irrelevant, Carisi--”

“It’s just my opinion. I mean, couldn’t they look a little younger?” Rafael asked, looking up at the blonde detective, smiling softly. “With silver specks on their cheeks--”

“Barba, forget the elves,” Liv said a bit loudly, widening her eyes and pointing to the body. “Look at the body, it’s the same MO as the body from yesterday.”

“Their hats aren’t that tall, either,” Rafael mumbled. “And they don’t have beards--”

“Barba!” Liv exclaimed in frustration.

“Hey Leiu, maybe he’s onto something here,” Carisi offered.

“He’s talking about elves in the neighbor’s front lawn--”

“I can get you a warrant for his apartment,” Rafael finally said, still scrutinizing the photograph before handing it back to Liv.

“How about while we’re waiting for the warrant, I take him to get some fresh air,” Carisi offered.

“Fine,” Liv replied, looking back to the ADA, who was softly rubbing his belly, head turned towards Fin and Rollins. “Barba, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but when you come back, I need you focused on the case.”

Rafael looked back at her and smiled, nodding his head as she looked him over again, and lightly shook her head.

“Come on, counselor,” Sonny mumbled, pulling Rafael out of the office and towards his desk. “Elves?”

“I was just making an observation,” Rafael answered.

“It has nothing to do with the case, Raf. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just wish companies would do a little research on what they actually look like before producing decor that portrays them like--”

“Rafael,” Sonny said a little firmly. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Actually, no I’m starving,” the ADA replied honestly. Food sounded perfect right about now.

“Let’s get you something to eat then,” Sonny replied. “Some fresh air, little grub, maybe that’s just what you need,” he added as they walked to the elevator.

“I don't know what’s happening to me,” Rafael whispered.

He felt...jolly. Like he wanted to grace everyone in the world with a smile, and a Merry Christmas, though it was barely November. His insides felt warm, despite the weather becoming chillier by the day.

“Maybe you’re coming down with something,” Sonny offered as they walked across the street, to the diner that sat facing the precinct.

Rafael took out his Blackberry, sending an email to Carmen for her to send him a blank warrant form to his cell.

“Maybe,” Rafael mumbled as they sat by one of the windows.

“Hey, listen, I’ve been thinking,” Sonny said, playing with the corner of his napkin. “With the holidays coming up, I thought, you know, maybe we could spend it together again.”

Rafael was filling out the warrant request, nodding his head and hitting send before he looked up at the other man.

“Sure,” he said.

“Well, maybe this time, you could come to my family’s house with me on Christmas Day,” the blonde suggested.

Rafael was about to answer when their server came to the table, smiling at each of them.

“What can I get you guys today?” she asked.

“I’ll take uh pastrami on rye, some pickles on there, house salad--ranch on the side--and a lemonade, please,” Sonny answered, smiling back.

“And I’ll have a caesar--no dressing--and one of those fresh baked cookies, the warm chocolate chip--no nuts--and um, a little slice of cheesecake, apple pie, and um hot fudge sundae--extra hot fudge” Rafael said, smiling and licking his lips with the thought of sweets. When he realized Sonny was staring at him, unblinking, he dropped his smile and quickly added, “On the side.”

“Anything to drink, Mr. Barba?”

He thought for a moment, blowing a gentle breath through his lips, shrugging a little before looking back up at the server.

“Ice cold milk,” he answered.

“Alrighty,” she sang, moving away to put in their order.

“Raf,” Sonny said softly. “You’re lactose intolerant, you think milk is a good idea?”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry so much,” Rafael replied, smiling and patting Sonny’s hand.

“Since when do you eat so many sweets? No wonder you’ve gained a little, you gotta take it easy on the sugar.”

“Ah maybe,” Rafael mused as their server brought their drinks. “I sent the request out for a warrant, we should hear back soon.”

“Raf--”

“Sonny, I’m fine. I promise. I’ve actually never felt better,” Rafael replied honestly, still with a smile on his face. “Now, your parent’s house, Christmas Day--”

“Look, I understand if you have plans with your mom or--”

“No, no, I think…” God, did he really want to meet Sonny’s family? At this point, their relationship had already hit the year mark, though how he hadn’t managed to screw it up, one way or another, Rafael had very little idea. Perhaps it was time to meet the parents. “Yes,” he said before he could think too much more about it.

“Really?” Sonny asked, almost surprised.

“Yes, we’ve been seeing each other for a while, and I think it’s appropriate for me to meet your family. I’d love to,” Rafael answered, earning a dimpled smile.

[who-likes-cake]

chapter 2: the girl with the red shoes

2 years later. Ash is laying in bed staring at the ceiling in boredom when his mom knocks on his bedroom door. “Come in” “hi honey i just came in to check on you” “And?” “Listen I know it's been hard for you losing your sister” Ash sighs “i just want you to look on the bright side” “what bright side” “what?” “what bright side” “honey” “what mom Ethras gone and it's all because of me” “honey none of this is your fault” “it is mom and there's no hiding it” Ash's eyes start to water. “Well I'll be in the kitchen if you want to talk” Ash goes back to looking at the ceiling and looks at a picture of him and Ethra when they were four. His eyes start watering and a tear runs down his cheek.  someone rings the doorbell “Ash someones at the do-” “i know” Ash yells. Ash opens the door to Marlo with a picture in his hand “Marlo?” “can i come in” “I guess why are you here?” “it's important” Ash and Marlo head to his room they enter his room and sit on the bed “so why are you here and whats that picture” “look” its a picture of this man in his mugshot he has one blue eye and one hazel eye and thin black hair with streaks of blonde hair. he has a gas mask and a menacing look . “So?” “this is the guy i saw right before the night crawlers showed up” “ so what does he have to do with Ethra?” “look his release date is in three years and i saw him right there with my own eyes” “so you think he has something to do with Ethras death?” “yep” “you might be onto something Marlo freiden” they both grin. “So now what” says Marlo “we have avocado sandwiches”. “crunch” “chew” “mmm these sandwiches are good mom” “they are thank you mrs napoleon” “such good manners you should take advice from him Ash” “yea whatever mom” “well being born and raised in the burden tree and surrounded by important and fancy people you gotta learn your manners” “so anyways Marlo should we find more about this guy” “yes we should we can try and find some of his living relatives to see if he has any connection with the nightcrawlers” “well we don't even know how old he is all his relatives could be dead” “your right but he doesn't have any wrinkles or grey hair so i'm guessing he's in his 40s” “wow we make a pretty good team don't we”  i”i guess we do Asher napoleon”. “Oh you boys and your imaginations” “yep imaginations” “well i should get going” says Marlo “i'll walk you to the lift” the two walk out the front door and start walking down the street “why didn't you tell her?” “tell her what” “tell her that we may have found the guy who killed Ethra” “because she's already stressed enough about me having separation anxiety she doesn't need to be more stressed” “i guess you're right” “besides i'm sure this is all a coincidence anyways” “well if we do more research soon we will be sure” they reached the end Marlo gets in the cart “i'll be over tomorrow to do some more research” “bye Marlo!” “thanks for the sandwiches!” the door closes and creaks as it goes down the wire Ash starts to walk back and sees a keythong and her babies sitting in a tree they look cold and hungry since there's no natural worms or seeds Ash spots a half eaten piece of bread and throws it up to the birds and keeps walking the sun starts setting as Ash gets closer. He makes it to the house right as it gets dark. He watches as his mom locks all the doors and windows while he brushes his teeth and gets in bed he looks out the window as the leaves rustle around he doses off and falls asleep. The next morning. Ash wakes up and walks into the kitchen. “Morning sweety” morning mo-. Marlos sitting in the living room with a book in a plastic bag. “Marlo why are you here at 9:23 in the morning?” “well i woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep so i decided to come over and do some research”. “Let me take a quick shower and we can do some research while i eat breakfast” 10 minutes later. “So Ash where should we start” “well i guess we could start by telling me what that book is”Ash says as he gets a box of cereal. “This is a limited edition copy of atherias most wanted criminals” “so what information will this give us that we don't already have?” “look on the back” Ash reads the back out loud “added information” “this book adds extra information like relatives and where they live” “nice” “im kinda disappointed how big this book is though” “well most of these criminals got caught because they were robbing the burden tree which is full of cops and people who know how to use a gun” “i guess you're right” “well why don't we take a walk to the park and we can look him up in the book”. Ash and Marlo walk towards the park and start looking at the book. “Jess cray,turf flint,tinn queger,. “There!” “nalusa beelzbud frazer huh weird middle name” “well actually it's very fitting since beelzebub is one of the seven princes of hell” “hm” “wait even if he has any living relatives how ar-” “YES I KNEW IT HES 43” “seriously” “sorry” “i was saying even if he has any living relatives how are we even gonna get to them?” “well lets just hope they live in atheria” Marlo grins. “Well does he have any living relatives?” “Let me see” Marlo says as they reach the park and head to the bench ``''it says here that he has only 4 living relatives ``''well thats great im sure one of them can give us some answers where do they live?” “That's the thing three of them live in gyoza and the other lives in trifling city ” Marlo says disappointed. “Well what are we gonna do now we have no proof that he has any connection to the night crawl-” “ WAIT! it says ``trifling village not trifling city!” “and where's that?” “trifling village is one of the villages on the outer side of the senitaren ring” “well we can get there in a gif!” “Wait but we still can't walk there,” Marlo says in realization. “Well maybe we can each bring some money for cabs” AshAsh says “great idea Ash!”. They get ready to leave until a girl with dark brown hair much like Ashes, and red shoes approaches them. “Hello can we help you?” Marlo says in confusion. “No, I'm just looking at your book. May I see it?” “um sure i guess just be careful its limited editio-” the girl starts running off towards a black car “GET THAT BOOK” Ash and Marlo start running towards as she gets closer and closer to the car “WE'RE NOT GONNA MAKE IT!” “I'LL CUT BETWEEN OLD MAN BLAKE'S BACKYARD AND MAYBE WE'LL HAVE A SHOT!” Ash cuts between  old man Blake's backyard while Marlo keeps running straight. She starts to get really close as Marlo stops in defeat. “Guess i'm not getting that book back” Marlo thinks to himself disappointedly. When all of a sudden right as the girl reaches her car Ash jumps over one of the fences and tackles the girl. Marlo runs over and they start asking questions. “WHO ARE YOU AND WHY DID YOU TAKE MY BOOK!?” “My name is Ada Stewart, my sister is an arrowhead member and she ordered me to get it” “well you still stole his book and that's enough for us not to let you go” Ash says. “Please i didn't want to, she threatened to make me a slave for the arrowheads if i didn't so please don't hurt me” “come on Ash she didn't want to” “fine but i got my eye on you” Ash lets her up and she gives back the book . “well Ada you can be our friend”. Marlo starts walking to the cart and Ash gives Ada a glare as they split up and head home.