#and he deals with this stress by arguing with elias. and making out with elias. and breaking up with elias.

[sparky-is-spiders]

Just gonna keep all my self-indulgent fun Drama aus here. Anyway my brain is feeling more cooperative now but only for soap opera Jonelias. Nothing else. So.

I'm obsessed with. Jonelias torrid affair. I'm thinking younger researcher Jon. Pre season 1. And Elias is this cool, calm, extremely knowledgeable guy that Jon looks up to, who's taken on something of a mentorship role. And Jon's just nursing the most embarrassing crush, but this is his boss who is like twice his age, but Elias just knows so much and he's got this steady air to him that helps Jon feel more grounded and he's so interesting to talk to and what's Jon even supposed to do about that???? And it doesn't help that Elias is actively interested in him and invested in him. So the abandonment issues and need to Impress Elias (because maybe he can't be liked for himself but surely he can be appreciated for his intelligence and diligence) and the emotional repression are all mixing in his head.

Eventually it reaches a breaking point. I'm not even sure who I want to initiate tbh. Maybe Elias wants to see what happens if he pushes Jon, maybe Jon impulsively makes a move.... yeah ok it's probably Elias who starts things tbh. I think he would also enjoy the drama of a secret relationship (especially the shame and the fear of discovery... it would be a nice snack). Besides he gets to rotate Jon and put him in mundane situations and examine his future archivist from every angle and keep him both close to Elias and from forming connections with others.

They never officially date properly and also it's messy as hell. Elias likes to push Jon and Jon is prone to freezing him out or trying to avoid him whenever the pressure and secrecy get to be too much. Like one third of their relationship is emotionally charged conversations about work (workaholics lmao) and one third is bickering and the rest is snogging in quiet corners of the institute.

And maybe part of it is that Jon doesn't want to lose the only real connection he has and that's why he holds onto the relationship so hard. And maybe that scares him and they break up a bunch because Jon needs to prove that he doesn't need this and he needs to hide the evidence so nobody can find out that he's having some weird messy love affair with his middle-aged boss. But he can never resist their connection and he can never resist Elias.

Idk this all feels ooc tbh. Anyway have my brainleavings.

Because I'm feeling warm and fuzzy and self-indulgent and also because I spent this morning marinating in headache and daydreaming about it:

[callofdooty]

WIP Wednesday, but this time it's long as fuck

Still on that Hesh Whump lmao

-

Riley's barking in the distance. Only, Riley isn't in the distance. Hesh can see him, right here: a blurred mass of yapping, whining fur. It's weird. He shouldn't sound so far when he's so close... And what's he barking for...? Riley doesn't bark for nothing...

The confusion of it all only makes the stabbing pain in his head worse.

"Riley? What's- Shit! Hesh!?" He could recognise that soft rasp anywhere, even with his ears feeling like they were stuffed with cotton. Logan's here. And Hesh is on the floor.

Floor. Why is he on the floor?

Logan's already crouched beside him as his head clears up a little, and in all honesty, if anyone had to see him like this, he's glad it's Logan. He wasn't sure how any of the Ghosts would have reacted (and boy, what a great list of first impressions he would have started racking up) and lord fucking knows how Elias would have reacted. Definitely the last thing Hesh needed to do was to stress him out more. Logan was the second best option. The best option being that noone saw him like this.

Well, beggars can't be choosers.

"Logan-" He manages to sit himself up a little, relieved when Logan supports him with an arm around his back.

"What the hell happened?"

"Fuck- I dunno... I just... kinda fell?"

The hand on his back shifts, and Logan gives a puzzled look before suddenly his pressing his other hand to Hesh's forehead, icy contact taking him by surprise. Were his hands always so cold...?

"Shit, you're burning up!" That explains it. It being just about everything. The aches, the chills, the headache, the... falling. His arm gets thrown over Logan's shoulder as he tries to pull Hesh up from the floor. "I'm taking you to-"

"No, m' fine, Logan... Just... Help me get to my room?"

"Hesh-"

"Please. Please, Logan, I'm... I just need sleep..." It's probably the most pitiful he's looked and sounded in a long time, and he must look scarily close to a kicked puppy because Logan relents almost immediately, deflating a little befoee giving him a hardened glare.

"Fine, but I reserve the full right to drag your ass to med at any pont, got it?" Logan grumbles, and despite his irritation, he's careful when he helps Hesh up, supporting him all the way back to his room, with Riley hot on their heels.

His bed is, admittedly, nicer than the floor. Not by a wide margin, but enough to feel at least a little more comfortable. Riley hopped up alongside him, head resting on Hesh's thigh as he whined softly. 

"Fuck... everything hurts..."

"Wonder why that is." Logan huffed, "You said you just needed sleep, so sleep. I'm gonna see if I can get something for you. Even if you're not going to med, you're taking something for that fever." 

"Okay, dad."

"Speaking of, I'll let dad kn-"

"Don't!" He pleads immediately, startling both Riley and Logan. "I'm fine. Dad doesn't need to know-"

"You almost passed out in the hallway, Hesh!"

"He's got other shit to deal with... I don't need to add onto it,"

"Swear to fucking..." Logan grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Fine. But you get any worse and I'm getting dad." He wasn't about to argue, it was either this or Logan would go get him now, and that's the last thing he wanted. He gives a weak, sheepish nod, and then Logan is gone, shutting the door softly behind him.

[thezolblade]

So, for the Heart of the Disaster series, I was wondering how far the following fics will delve into nonconsensual territory. Will things stay mostly in the realm of dubious consent or no? Also, if you don't mind, could you list what kind of kinks/squicks might feature? Really excited to see where this goes

Cool, it varies by route, so I'll put this behind a read more for mature content / plot spoilers / length:

Reconciliation:

The dubcon gets lighter, as Jon accidentally compels Martin into talking about how scary and offputting he's found the night so far (and how his fantasies were of the sort where they kill the monster and then kiss and live happily ever after). Jon reacts badly, and Martin realises he's scared of losing him and manages to negotiate the bare minimum boundaries of 'no violence; stop touching me if I tell you to stop; you don't fire me and I won't leave'.

There's still verbal abuse, destruction of property, and the coercion of what would happen if they had a messy breakup, but Martin basically feels he has enough solid ground to deal with that, and insists on only doing things he can enjoy or tolerate in the bedroom. The kinks lean more towards manhandling and light slapping, insults, maybe nice outfits, travel and semi-public sex, photography, etc. Martin also enjoys music, bad dancing, and comfort food.

Anchors: they work towards a healthier relationship that Martin wants to commit to long-term.

Domestic purgatory: they slip into a domain about constant repressed fear, guilt and yearning, unable to tell whether it even makes sense to feel uneasy all the time when they're trying to do things that they're telling themselves they enjoy. (Canon-typically for season 1 - 4 statements, there's some unreality and temporary/recurring death, and the implication that they might stay trapped forever, but if they ever managed to anchor their emotions then it's still technically possible that they could slip back into the real world.)

Escape:

Jon stays about as abusive as in the first fic, for a while, with better days and worse days. Martin tries to believe that once he knows what Jon wants from a relationship, he can steel himself for any of it without being caught off guard again, and he enjoys some activities, but gets pushed into agreeing to things that upset him too.

Martin manages to get some help from Tim and Sasha, and eventually goes to live with Tim and tries to break up with Jon.

Content warnings that may be squicks: Martin's neck is visibly bruised after the choking. The whole Archives team argues over the obvious abuse, while Martin tries to claim it's a consensual relationship, because he's worried that if Jon gets fired, the next head archivist might not shelter him from Prentiss. Tim casually touches Martin's arm while asking to talk to them separately, and Jon reacts by punching Tim and getting possessive of Martin. Sasha and Tim go to Elias. There's an intervention where Jon's warned that he'll be suspended for any further violence at work (an empty threat), and he and Martin are asked to attend couple's counseling. Everyone's unhappy with this outcome.

Re-orbit: after Martin leaves, Jon dwells on the things he said, and eventually apologises. They missed each other despite their awful issues, and they're stressed out by the escalating spookiness, so they get back together and promise to do better this time.

Everyone out: Major character death for Jon, and the others escape the Institute. Stalking and escalating violence along the way.

Reckoning: After Martin goes to stay with Tim, Jon stalks them, and the violence escalates. They realise they can't stay away from the Institute for long without getting sick. Jon gets hold of a gun and threatens them when they return. Tim fights back, and Jon ends up in hospital. While the others are panicking about what to do, Jon heals inhumanly fast. The next time Jon corners them, he compels Tim into giving a statement about Danny, breaks his leg while he's talking, threatens to kill him if he interferes again, and orders Martin to come back home. By that point, Martin's terrified, and he goes with Jon, desperately trying to figure out how to keep anyone from getting killed now that it's all-out war.

The overall Escape route doesn't include any Tim/Martin, and Martin would be too worried about Jon finding out to agree to anything. But if anyone wants Tim/Martin I might write that as a separate 'what if'. Also maybe an extra version where Jon noncons Tim once things have broken down to the point of death threats.

Subjugation:

Jon stays about as abusive as in the first fic, and Martin doesn't accept any help from anyone else.

Jon sometimes pushes for kinks involving painplay, even when he knows that Martin isn't enjoying himself, and sometimes has fun with gentler stuff, partly using it to 'make it up to' Martin and make the relationship feel more legitimate.

The more violent kinks take it to the heavier side of dubcon sometimes. Martin resolves to cooperate and not get himself into trouble in the heat of the moment. But if Jon wants to try something that he thinks might make Martin feel physically overwhelmed, he'll get him to agree to being tied up and gagged first, so that he can't flail around or say 'no' partway through. There are times when Martin would ask Jon to indulge him with a break if he weren't gagged, but he can't, so he ends up breaking down again, then pretending he's okay.

Sometimes Martin will say no, and Jon will keep him talking until he has something he can see as a flimsy excuse to carry on anyway, even if Martin didn't actually explicitly change his mind. Martin will think of that as 'I didn't say yes' and 'I'm still not stopping him', and agree aloud with however Jon frames it afterwards. So, the overlap of noncon and dubcon.

Spring thaw: Jon gradually mellows, in a partial parallel of his canon character arc. He realises that Martin's been getting depressed, and he misses the way he used to speak his mind and act more present. Once he can admit to himself that it's his own fault, he tries to treat Martin better, but it doesn't help, because Martin's used to being pampered sometimes without it solving anything. Eventually, Jon books Martin in for a spa trip on his own, and tells him that some breathing space might help him clear his head, and he'd like to talk about how he can do better afterwards. While he's at the spa, Martin starts to recover, thinks about how much Jon has changed over time, and decides he wants to be hopeful and stay together.

Forsaken moors: Martin gets depressed, slips into a Lonely domain, and decides he belongs there. Eventually, Jon finds a way to follow him there, and complains that everything's been going wrong; their friends are dead, and he's being hunted. He asks Martin to come back to reality, even though he wouldn't like it, because he was his only relief. Martin refuses to leave. Jon wanders the domain indefinitely, still insisting that he's not leaving on his own.

Pretty much any of these routes could get additional 'what if' continuations or alternate endings if inspiration hits. (I've got ideas for a couple of routes following Reckoning, though they're not as fully formed, and they're plot twists leading towards relatively good ends, so I might need to come up with more bad ends to keep the darkfic sandbox aspect of the series... Well, there are options.)

If there are kinks that might make a fun smutfic, but don't end up fitting into the plotfic, then I might add them as standalone work 'missing scenes' from various points in the timelines.

Topics that may show up in multiple routes:

Other kinks that might be included: tattooing, collaring, recreational drugs.

Jon has a pregnancy kink here, but it won't come up in every route, as I don't want to retread the same ground too much.

In a relatively good path, he'll acknowledge that it'd be ridiculous to risk pregnancy in a rocky new relationship while they're in extreme danger.

In a bad path, he'll impulsively decide that if it happens, they can make it work, he's got savings and they can find stability with a few months' warning, so he tells Martin that if it takes, they're keeping it. If Martin's in a position to ask for help from Sasha he'll try to get on contraceptives, but that might not work forever. If there's any actual pregnancy, it'll be in a 'things get worse then better' route, as I wouldn't want to write a kid being brought into the worst bad end scenarios.

On the topic of Martin being trans: he got on testosterone at puberty and is flat chested, doesn't want any surgical options, has no remaining physical dysphoria, and won't be misgendered. (That's what I think I can write comfortably about a gender I don't share, though I've no objection to other people writing other things for catharsis etc.)

Jon's demi, and it will probably come up that Martin's the second person he's ever been sexually attracted to, and he never got together with his first crush. He's had casual sex with people he wasn't attracted to, and felt neutral about it in an 'eh' way. (Georgie was his first crush, and in this AU, he wasn't stable enough for her standards. Their friendship ended badly.)

If the not!them comes up, I'll probably go with not!Rosie and Sasha lives.

Might bring in Sasha/Melanie as a side ship in routes that bring the team into the plot, so that Melanie can still show up. (After they got talking about haunted pubs, they went out for drinks, and started venting about their career trouble, etc.)

For paths where they get away from the Institute, I'll probably kill Jonah offscreen.The apocalypse is a big squick, so I won’t be writing a successful ritual.

More warnings may come up, I'll tag each work as I go along, and you can ask if there's anything else you're wondering about.

[kemihaydeestantonva]

I'm so tired of people reducing LITERALLY everybody in the lead up to Robert's Rebellion

It's not a love story

It's not a kidnapping

It's prophecy

It's about the song of ice and fire

You know

The thing the entire story is literally about

Rhaegar didn't just fall in love with Lyanna and decide to kidnap her or run off with her on a whim. It's not because he's a creepy scumbag pedo rapist. The literal only other thing we are told about Rhaegar as readers, is how he was born in the disaster at Summerhall, how he goes back to the ruins all the time and hangs out with the ghost of High Heart. He knows Aegon's prophecy, and like MANY of his forebears he erroneously thinks it's about him, realizes it isn't, then makes disastrous choices in order to try and make the prophecy come true. This is a Targaryen tale as old as time, people.

And Lyanna? She knew. We already know from context that it's highly likely she was not abducted against her will. She ran off with him. And I would argue that she was told about the prophecy as well. The Starks and Targaryens have always been destined to do this, and I'll eat my hat if the pact of Ice and Fire made during the dance didn't pertain to this in some way (there is simply no reason for any of our current Stark POV characters, mainly Eddard, to be thinking about this in a time period where the Targaryens are gone). Lyanna was a rebellious spirit, she wasn't interested in Robert, she likely did fall in love with Rhaegar but also I believe she was in the know and was very much down. I'm tired of people reducing her to a victim like she didn't have a say in her own fate. That's not who Lyanna is, we have only ever been told that she walked her own path, always.

And Elia, ohhhhh Elia. This one gets me heated because people really love to trash Rhaegar for abandoning Elia to her terrible fate. And let me be clear - this isn't me simply reducing Elia's consent to this to her JUST being Dornish. There are likely plenty of Dornishmen who are not okay with polyamory or paramours. HOWEVER, it is so commonplace that it is a very normal part of their culture, and Elia knows this. She could be okay with it, she could be just putting up with it and not making a big deal about it because she's used to this sort of thing. That's only a part of it. The reason I am staunchly on the "Elia was in fact cool with it" train isn't because she's Dornish, it's because the ONE SCENE WE HAVE OF HER, THE SINGULAR ELIA SCENE WE GET, SHE IS LITERALLY HAVING A CASUAL DISCUSSION WITH RHAEGAR ABOUT HOW HE NEEDS TO HAVE ANOTHER KID. This tells me that they TALK. They have healthy communication in their relationship. It's even more obvious that Elia knows about the prophecy too - and that they've talked about this before. I think during these conversations they worked things out and she did give him the okay. And again, I cannot stress this enough, Elia is her own fucking woman. It is conceivable that she can have a say in her marriage, and everything we've been told of Rhaegar via characters that actually knew him (even Ned doesn't have a bad thing to say about the guy, if you go back and pay attention to his inner monologue - which you would think he would if he was this horrible monster that kidnapped and killed his sister) tells me that he is the sort of man who WOULD listen, talk it out, and come to a compromise with his wife.

This isn't me being the big Rhaegar defender btw - this whole debacle was messy and threw the realm into civil war. Like many Targaryens before him, following this prophecy rabbit hole got a fuck ton of people killed. You would think being born at Summerhall might warm him towards caution but just the opposite.

He should not have left Elia in King's Landing either. There was no way he could have known what Tywin had planned for her, and yes y'all need to lay the blame for her horrific death at the feet of Gregor and Tywin, not Rhaegar, but even if he couldn't predict the massacre that was coming to the red keep he DID know his father was incredibly unstable, and hated the Dornish to boot. Elia had just given birth, she was in a vulnerable state, and he should have taken measures to protect her while he was gone.

But holy shit I'm so tired of everybody getting caught up in the relationship dynamics when the magical prophecy aspect of it is what George is trying to get you to focus on.

And sidenote on the whole "Rhaegar is a pedo" thing, because yes he was 24 and she was 16 - looking at this relationship through a modern lens it is really gross, and I have all kinds of problems with that. It's okay if it personally makes you uncomfortable. But as a victim of CSA and as somebody who understands how to view this story with modern context removed (because it's the middle fucking ages and while child brides were not as common as people say they were, 16 was very much an acceptable time to be wed in this period) it REALLY grinds my gears how people throw the word pedo around so flippantly. You know who really fucks me up and makes me uncomfortable and I have no issue using that word to? Littlefinger. Littlefinger is a pedo. Hell, ROBERT knocking up that 14 year old in the first book gave me a HUGE ick. I do not think that label fits the Rhaegar and Lyanna story. My experience is my own and doesn't invalidate yours, but it does bother me with my personal background being a victim of a pedophile to see how freely people toss that label around.

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.11 "From Awful to Even Worse!"

CW: PTSD themes, panic attacks, night terrors, injury mention (past and current), body image/weight mention, blood, disassociation mention, tics/tourrettes, noncon/dubcon/general nsfw language, gunshot wound mention, drugs/cigarettes (explicit), food mention, trauma flashback (explicit) (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Elias was starting to feel Tyson's frustration with him. It had been weeks since he'd gotten back and every time he woke up screaming or have random bouts of panic, Tyson faced it with a tired sigh and a tight hug. He always said "it's ok, I've got you," but it was starting to sound less convincing. Elias could feel it, he was bothersome, he was annoying, Tyson couldn't take care of him anymore. He told himself that Tyson never signed up for this anyway, it wasn't fair to expect him to stick around. So, he grew progressively worse, trying to drown all of the thoughts out with weed, staying in bed for hours after he woke up, too exhausted to stand up and start the day. Everything seemed pointless and dull and grey and scary. He wasn't allowing the cuts scattering his torso and arms to heal, ripping and picking them open every few days. He felt like he deserved the pain and the blood. He was finding that, because he'd been so used to the harshness of his deep red blood on his pale skin and blinding pain, he just wasn't comforted by the healing.

Tyson was only worrying about him even more, absolutely panic ridden and unsure how to help him feel better. He couldn't say anything to soothe him, he couldn't promise wholeheartedly that everything was ok because it wasn't, it was all incredibly fucked. Saying anything else felt wrong though, like telling Elias it would be ok was the only reasonable thing to keep saying. He also kept promising that Elias was safe now, that he wasn't going to be hurt again, because that was one thing he could help control. Tyson was going to make sure that this promise was kept, he would keep Elias safe no matter what it took, as long as he could help it no one would touch him again.

But Elias didn't think he was safe, every bone in his body was screaming that he had to run and hide, that he was going to be beaten any second. This didn't change no matter how much Tyson reassured him that he was safe and protected now. Sometimes it scared him so bad he could only sit in silence, paralyzed by dread of pain that would never come.

Like now, Elias was sitting on the couch wrapped up in blankets, staring off into nothingness, zoned out from the weed and eyes clouded over in thought. As Tyson walked in, he sat a little straighter, looking at him expectantly, like he was trying to please him by sitting pretty.

"Elias?" He asked, kneeling in front of him. Sometimes when he was speaking to Elias he felt like he was holding a candle in front of him and speaking too loud might blow it out and kill him. Something so soft and fragile and so damn close to the edge of breaking all the damn time had to be handled gently, with extreme care. "Would you like to go out with me tonight?"

Elias grinned a little, leaning towards him. Tyson relaxed a great deal, marking the reaction as a small victory. "I'll have to check my schedule," he joked, "I've been pretty busy lately."

With a laugh, Tyson smoothed out the blanket over Elias's shoulder. He was elated to hear him joking, he could buy the boy a cake to celebrate. "You sure you can't spare an hour? Or do you have some more walls to stare at?"

"Where would we go?" Elias retorted.

"Hmm... I was thinking we could get a nice picnic together and go to that spot by the lake...I figure we could go now and get there by sunset." He paused, tilting his head at him. "And I...have some shrooms we could take, if you wanted. We don't have to." He stressed the last part, more than ok with just spending the night with his half-stoned boyfriend, with these little jokes and crooked smiles.

"That sounds like fun. Do I have to change my clothes?" He smiled when Tyson shook his head, then dropped the blanket to stand up. It was a success! Sure, he was going in his pyjamas and Tyson's worn out college hoodie, and he lit up a cigarette as soon as they were in the car, but he was leaving the house! Tyson was able to get him out of the house to go on a date and he was smiling about it.

------------------------------------------

Tyson was right, the lake was lit up with the peach color of the slowly setting sun. The chill breeze bit wonderfully at their cheeks. As they sat on the blanket they splayed out on the grass, Tyson pulled Elias close with one arm, holding his food with the other. He had made sandwiches with peanut butter and the shrooms, and Elias was surprised when he couldn't even taste them. As he stared out over the water and watched the colors change, he felt the world around him pulsing slightly, the air swelling sweetly around him. Even though he knew it was because he'd been so dependent on drugs when he was with August, he was glad to be high again. Maybe he'd be able to get comfortable enough with Tyson again to talk to him. God, he was feeling horrible about how little he'd been talking to him.

"Baby," Tyson said suddenly, pressing his lips against the side of Elias's head, "can I tell you a secret?"

Elias turned to look at him, his face glowing in the setting sun. "Yes?" He breathed. He looked so beautiful, the definition of perfect. Elias couldn't help but reach out to touch him, humming at the pleasant warmth that seemed to melt him from the inside out.

"I am really, really in love with you." As he said it, Tyson pulled him closer to him.

"Oh Tyson...do you mean that?" He breathed, a light blush in his face. The words sounded so beautiful coming from Tyson, he could listen to him say that for the rest of his life. He almost couldn't believe that, after everything, someone could love him, or even convince themselves that they did like he imagined Tyson was. Still, it was nice to be told, nice to be held so close, nice to be high in the arms of someone who touched him with such tenderness. So he allowed it, adored it, when Tyson grinned and pulled him closer and said:

"I do, angel. I love you."

He melted at the way Elias's face lit up with a smile and he kissed him, giggling as Elias melted right into his arms.

Elias felt Tyson lower him to his back on the soft ground, climbing onto him slowly. "Say it again." Elias whimpered, pulling Tyson's shirt hard until he was pressed close to him.

"I," he whispered, kissing his neck softly, "love," another kiss against his jaw, "you," then his cheek, "Elias." He kissed him softly and slowly, smiling at the pleased hum Elias let out.

"I love you too," he gasped, hyper aware of Tyson's arms holding him steady. It was like he could fall off the planet and endlessly tumble through the stars any second, but he was able to stay pressed against the cool earth because of Tyson's arms alone. He was safe, he was held. "I love you so much."

As the lighting around them dimmed to a pale blue, the air chilled until they had no other option but to press close against each other, watching the stars with wide, drugged out eyes and amazed whispers in between kisses. Elias had never felt more loved in his life, every time he looked at Tyson all he could see was the love on his face, it soaked through his clothes everywhere he touched him.

"Ty," Elias said suddenly, sitting up fully to look at him. He looked luminous in the pale moonlight, and Elias found his train of thought stalling as the words fell out of his mouth. "Ty, I want to...I want to um..."

Tyson smiled at him, reaching up and playing with his hair to distract him further. "You're so pretty, Eli." He giggled when Elias let out a flustered sigh and leaned into his touch. It was so easy to discompose him, and it was endlessly entertaining.

"Listen, Tyson. I want to have sex with you." He grabbed the string on Tyson's hoody as he spoke, tugging at it gently. "I wanna give my everything to you."

"Let me tell you something, baby. I don't want to take anything from you. I want to love you whole, in one piece, I don't wanna take parts of you." He sat up as well, tipping Elias's face up towards his own by just a finger under the chin. He watched Elias's eyes flutter at the simple touch, and he was glad to see him so relaxed. He was never this calm when this subject was brought up, and it was almost strange to not see him fidgeting and twitching nervously at Tyson's polite rejection. "I don't want you to think you're giving something to me."

Elias hummed quietly, nodding his head along to whatever it was Tyson was saying. It was hard not to agree, Tyson was so smart and he spoke in such pleasant, melodic tones, why would Elias ever argue with anything he had to say in that sweet voice? Had he before? He scolded himself, told him that Tyson was the best and never again would Elias disagree with him. "You're so good to me," he whispered, "God, I could listen to you talk forever."

With a laugh, Tyson let his lips fall against Elias's softly, enjoying the way he sunk into the kiss.

They only stayed out by the lake for a bit later, until it was too dark and too cold to warm each other up effectively. Elias was elated the entire walk back to the car, chattering happily and occasionally ticcing against Tyson's grip. "Oh, you know what would be so great right now?" He asked, not waiting for Tyson to answer. "We should go home and take a really warm shower. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"It does sound nice. We'll do that as soon as we get home, ok?" He rubbed Elias's shoulder gently, then helped him get in the car. As they drove, they kept the windows down and let the cold air keep them grounded, Elias had one hand slung out of the window and one on Tyson's thigh. Life was so perfect and so beautiful and Elias simply understood where he was and who he was, for the first time probably ever. Tyson kept peering over at him with pure adoration on his face, trying his hardest to remember to keep his eyes on the road. But Elias had been gone for so long, and he was absolutely glowing in the streetlights they passed, and Tyson never ever wanted to look away from him. He would sacrifice everything, forfeit the rest of his vision if it meant he could look at Elias always. Hell, he would sacrifice all of his senses if only he could ever only touch, taste, hear, see, and breathe Elias. He would be content, he would never get sick of it. Elias was everything, absolutely nothing else mattered when he was looking at Elias.

"Eyes on the road, Ty," Elias laughed, watching Tyson flush and snap his gaze back to the road. "You're so beautiful. Very endearing." He ticced, wolf-whistled, and then it was his turn to blush and turn his head to look out the window, at the passing trees.

To his surprise, Tyson reached over and grabbed his thigh, squeezing it gently as he chuckled to himself. "And you," he said pointedly, stealing another glance at the seemingly stunned Elias, his eyes were so wide, borderline apprehensive, and Tyson tried to soak in that look on his face before looking back at the road, "are adorable. Just... breathtakingly attractive."

Elias blushed further, but instead of shying away he pulled Tyson's hand up to his face, kissing softly at his fingertips, then the palm of his hand.

"Elias, angel," Tyson breathed, "if you keep doing that I'll never look away from you."

Now it was Elias's turn to laugh, allowing Tyson's hand to fall from his grasp and down to his jaw. He allowed it to rest their for a moment, then dropped it to the nape of his neck and massaging against him gently. It was pure, just because he liked it, Elias always felt that way. He could feel when August was touching him with underlying motivation, hidden threats in every pretend comforting touch. Tyson's hands on him always felt natural, like "where else would they be?" kind of natural. And it was everything Elias could ask for and more.

Once they were actually home and in the bathroom, Elias felt a creeping uneasiness about Tyson seeing his body. He suddenly remembered how mutilated and messed up he was, his cuts were barely healing, the bruises an even uglier color than when he first came back. He remembered how even seeing himself without clothes in the mirror was gut wrenching, made him want to throw up from anxiety and disgust. If he was there when all of it happened and even he was repulsed, there was no way Tyson seeing it all for the first time would be a delightful experience. If he didn't think he was ruined and ugly before, by some miracle, he certainly would after this. What happened to the beauty he saw in everything moments ago? Where was it now, when he was looking at himself? His aching need to be closer to Tyson overshadowed those fears, made him week in the knees with waves of longing, he could not spend another second with his mind mentally screaming to Tyson "touch me oh god please please put your hands on me in some way I can't breathe without you" and so he was forcing himself to pull nervously at the strings of his hoodie in attempt to convince himself to take it off.

"Tyson we gotta hurry," he rushed, "I have to do it before I freak myself out." He avoided looking in the mirror, eyes darting nervously around. A soft whimper of surprise passed his lips when Tyson grabbed the bottom of his hoodie and pulled him flush against his body. His breath smelled like weed and mint, Elias noticed. When did he smoke? Why didn't Elias notice? And was he chewing gum? Elias dropped his eyes down to his jaw, which was flexing as he chewed on the gum. Elias blushed when he thought about taking it from him, sharing that taste.

"It's alright love," Tyson whispered, "you don't need to be freaked out, I've got you. We'll do it at your pace."

Elias took a deep breath to calm himself down, looking up at Tyson with the rosiness still hanging on his face. "Ok just...just don't say anything when you see. Please."

Tyson answered him by kissing gently at his neck, holding him close still. Slowly, he let go of the hoodie and slipped his hand underneath, until his fingertips brushed against his hip softly. He paused, waiting to see if Elias was alright. He could feel his skin react to the touch, feel his breathing falter at the sheer skin on skin contact alone. After he relaxed, Tyson slowly wrapped his fingers around his waist, his thumb brushing against the sharp edge of his hip bone. He knew he was thin, but had it gotten this bad with August? He had been hiding in huge hoodies the past few days, the only idea Tyson had of how small he'd gotten was hugging him close, and even that wasn't the best gauge. Now that he was feeling him, up close and personal, he could feel just how run down he'd become. He almost made a remark about it, and then he remembered being asked not to say anything, so he ignored it.

"You ok?" He said instead, turning his head only slightly towards him. His mouth was parted just a bit, his eyes screwed shut. Tyson noticed Elias was hesitantly grabbing his shirt, seemingly unsure what to do with hands.

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm good." Elias reached up and looped his arm around Tyson's neck to get closer, deciding that was how to get as close to Tyson as possible, so maybe he wouldn't be able to see all of his injuries. His voice had a slight tremble to it, but Elias was holding onto him so tightly it didn't feel right to pull away and see if he was really good.

Tyson paused for a second longer, then slid his hand lightly up his rib cage. He let it rest there a moment before slipping his other hand under too, and then he stepped away just enough to pull Elias's sweatshirt over his head. He dropped it to the ground carelessly, taking Elias in, in all his abused glory.

Nearly every inch of his torso was scattered with bruises of varying color and he had cuts all over. Most of the ones on his arms were short and close together, but the ones on his chest looked more like someone tried to perform an autopsy on him while he was still conscious and thrashing. Tyson remembered a particular video of Elias secured to the bed with a couple of belts, August was carving into his chest slowly, purposefully, until Elias would shriek and writhe to try and escape the pain. He finally saw the large, barely healing wound on his shoulder, where he must've been shot, like he was telling Tyson one night. He probably should've gotten it stitched up, but it's not like August could have taken him on a day trip to the ER and get him fixed up before taking him home, good as new. So instead, it would be a huge, jagged scar that would remind him only of the fear and confusion of that day. There were even places along his ribs and collar bones he could see bruises in the faint outline of a hand. The amount of agony and screaming and begging for mercy that had to have gone along with each injury made Tyson physically upset, he noticed his hands were suddenly shaky. Tears of frustration with August and himself filled his eyes, and he tipped his head back to collect his thoughts.

"Oh god, is it that bad?" Elias whimpered, stepping away from him and dropping to his knees to grab his hoodie again. Now, from his place on the floor, Tyson could see his spine, where there was a larger, darker bruise in the center of his back. It just kept getting worse. "This was a horrible fucking idea. Ugh, dammit-" Elias couldn't get the hoodie on, with his nervously fumbling hands, and suddenly Tyson was there on the floor with him. He grabbed Elias's wrists and turned him toward him, shocking him with the quickness and how aggressively he was holding his arms. Elias's heart was pounding in his chest as he flinched away from Tyson's too tight grip, the way he was shaking as he held him still made Elias's throat close up.

"Elias. Elias I need you to know how sorry I am, baby," he choked out, loosening his grip around his wrists as he saw the fear scribbled on his face. "I'm so sorry I didn't do more to protect you or-or find you-"

"Tyson," Elias breathed, pulling one of his hands away to wipe his tears, "it's... not your fault."

"I never wanted you to get hurt." He shook his head, looking away from Elias altogether. He couldn't bare to see the fear on his face, the marks on his body. Not when he could have done more to prevent it. Not when Elias wouldn't be in such horrible shape if Tyson was just a little faster and stronger and more brave, if he had just been able to stop them from taking him away.

After a long pause, Elias leaned away from him and propped himself up on the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest. He felt rather hopeless, but he should've expected it. He was ugly and ruined now, how could he seriously expect Tyson to be attracted to him? He was someone else's used up toy, Tyson deserved more than that. He deserved more than all the cuts and bruises and fear. He couldn't cry, not that he didn't want to, so he just ended up dropping his head to his hands just to hide away for a bit. He didn't want to see the bitter look on Tyson's face, he didn't want to see him looking at anything else in the bathroom to avoid having to look at him and the extent of all his disgusting damage.

"Eli I'm sorry," Tyson began saying, reaching out to rub his shoulder softly, "I shouldn't have reacted that way. I thought I could handle this better."

Elias let out a short, sarcastic laugh, shrugging him off. "I get it. I'm damaged goods now, hard not to be put off."

"Don't say that. You're perfect, I'm just...I didn't know it was that bad." He sighed as he leaned against the wall next to Eli, keeping his hands to himself now. "Does it hurt still?"

"Yeah, it all does. Especially my hand." He held it out in front of him, splaying his fingers to show Tyson the healing injury. Every time he looked at this hand, he remembered the unbearable pain he felt when it was broken. He remembered having to force himself to keep it still, having to look away so he wouldn't have to see the damage happening, holding his breath because the pain was so intense his body just forgot how to work. "He broke it with a hammer when I tried to get away."

Tyson stared at it with a vague look of horror, then gently took his wrist and pulled him forward to press his lips lightly against the worst of the bruise. He looked up at Elias to see him staring at him with a small look of apprehension, worried his feather soft touches would turn painful any second. Instead, he continued to kiss on every bruise he could see, starting at his wrist and moving all the way up to his shoulder. "I've got you now, angel," his voice was just a low mumble as he spoke, "no one's gonna hurt you anymore."

Elias somehow ended up on his back on the bathroom floor, his hands gripping tightly at Tyson's shirt as he held him, his mouth pressed against all the injuries on his stomach, his arms holding him close. He tugged at Tyson's shirt until he was hovering directly over him, amused grin on his face. Tyson closed the small distance between them to kiss his neck gently, enjoying the soft gasp he let out.

"You sound so pretty like that, Eli," he whispered against his skin. When Elias pulled him closer, he ended up getting a little carried away, leaving hickeys on his neck and grinding against him softly. In the back of his mind, he was scolding himself for having let it get this far, pleading to not push it anymore, to stop while he was ahead. Elias wasn't healed yet, he had to remember. And even though he sounded so beautiful, oh God Tyson felt like he was listening to a perfect symphony with every moan and bothered whine he let out, this would probably only cause more damage. I should stop, he thought, I have to stop before I break him all over again. But he couldn't help it, Elias sounded so pleased at everything he did so he just kept doing it. He didn't sound on the verge of breaking, really, this was the happiest Tyson remembered him sounding since he got back. Until Elias suddenly let go of his shirt and pushed his trembling hands against his chest.

"P-please, no more," he was stammering desperately, tears streaming down his face that Tyson hadn't even notice. "I can't handle anymore, please let me rest, August."

Tyson sat up quickly, watching as Elias pushed himself up against the wall, covering his mouth with his hands. He was suddenly so scared, his eyes so faraway, looking somewhere else entirely, a different time, place, different person. He really thought Tyson was August. "Eli, baby, it's me." He whispered, grabbing onto Elias's wrist.

"No, stop!" Elias cried, flinching away from him further. "I want to go home! Let me go!"

As Tyson watched him, he realized he was probably having a flashback because of the shrooms, and he relaxed. He could handle this, as long as he could just get Elias to calm down for a second. He just had to not focus on how his heart broke when Elias said that, begged to go home. Had he said that to August before? Things were so awful he was crying to be allowed to leave. And Tyson was too pathetic to save him from that. "Elias, look at me, angel," he tried, frowning when he was only met with sobs. He thought he was August, so how would August get him to pay attention? "I asked you to look at me, Eli." He pressed. He made his voice firm, trying not to cross the line and freak him out more.

Elias caved in on himself further, his whole body trembling in fear, genuine fear that he was going to be hurt any second. He could already feel it before it came, just like always. It had gotten to a point where he could decipher whatever he was doing wrong and how he would be punished for it. It was his only way to somewhat prepare himself for any pain. Right now he was waiting to feel August grabbing him tightly and throw him to the ground or shove him against the wall and take what he wanted more violently than he should. Elias was so afraid of the pain, so August made sure that his fears weren't irrational and he would really hurt him then. That's how it usually went, anyway, or something like that.

"Please don't," he begged as he felt warm fingertips against his ribs, "please don't hurt me, I'll be good. I promise I'll be good." To his surprise, the hands didn't force him down or drag him out of the room, instead he felt himself enveloped into gentle, careful arms. August didn't usually hold him, not unless they were super high. He stopped that after he realized Elias enjoyed more than he should have. He stayed rigid and shaking, but he didn't pull away from him. He'd already made things worse for himself, why add another reason to be punished?

"You are being good, Eli," he was assured, the arms growing tight around him, "really, you're doing very well. But I want you to calm down, can you do that for me?"

Elias closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. In his head, he counted to ten. Why was he even crying still? Why was it taking him so long to calm down? He hadn't been hurt yet, at all, and now he was being held far more tenderly than he deserved. Only he could find a reason to flip out at something that should be nice. Or, nicer than in the past, anyway. With each second, he sunk deeper into the tight hug, holding August's forearm and pulling him closer. "Ok," he whispered, "I'm calm. D-do you have to take pictures this time? The flash freaks me out."

Tyson pulled him closer, too upset by the question to answer. He'd seen a few pictures, been sent a few videos, but he'd told himself those were isolated occasions, that August only did it once in awhile to antagonize him. But the way Elias made it seem, the pictures were taken often, at least often enough to give Elias a fear of the flash. He realized there were pictures and videos no one had seen, August probably had them for his own sick pleasure and amusement. Finally, he shook his head, mouth set in a grim line. "No, no pictures this time. Just relax."

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 31

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: we’re going back to y/n’s 18th. so sorry for the 2 day delay. hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N felt dizzy whenever she was surrounded by too many people, it almost felt unsafe, as if people could hurt her better if she was surrounded by others. After all, it was a sea of people with extensive knowledge in hurting someone or making them disappear without ever being known and despite living in that environment, she had a paranoid unconscious fear of being in the middle of so many people belonging to the mob, specially higher up members. 

She had managed to find herself a spot in the thousand of chairs speckled around the room, watching from afar as Gwen dazzled everyone in her new Ted Baker baby pink dress meanwhile Y/N was dressed in her high school dress uniform, not really having many dresses in her wardrobe that would suit the event or that would suit her. She continued with her nose stuck in her favourite book, her brain filtering out the loud partying sounds and focusing only on the sharp words of her pages. She would’ve continued this way had it not been for a strong coughing that came close to her. Y/N lowered her book to find the source landing on a man dressed like dandy, probably in his mid 60s, holding himself up on a dark walking stick and coughing onto a monogrammed handkerchief. 

     - Would you like to sit? - Y/N called out for his attention, immediately getting up from the chair. 

     - Please, darling, don’t bother. - he replied in an accent Y/N could maybe pin point to France or maybe Belgium. Nevertheless, she moved the chair closer to where he was, a small smile on her lips. - Are you sure you don’t want to sit?

     - I have good legs, I can stand. - Y/N leaned against the wall, hand gesturing towards the chair. 

     - What’s your name? - he questioned as he took a seat on the cushioned chair, too tired to argue with the girl telling him to sit down. She was probably right, he probably should.

     - Y/N. 

     - Michael. I’m Genevieve’s grandfather. Mother’s side. 

     - I’m Genevieve’s handmaid ... Or at least in training, Daniel says my true test will come up when we go to university. 

     - I’m assuming you got into Cambridge too then. - he admitted and Y/N nodded, very proud of her perfect scores and the letter that had come with the mail just a few days ago. - What are you taking?

    - English Literature. 

    - My daughter used to love to read. Would devour a whole library if she could. French, English, German, Greek ... languages didn’t really stop her. 

    - It must be hard for you. - his eyes seemed to focus on her eyes hidden by some mascara she had put on for the ceremony but still couldn’t completely hide the sheer beauty they seemed to hold. - Are you alright?

     - Yes, you just have some very familiar eyes. It’s uncanny. 

     - I just got told that today. - she played with her hair, a shy smile on her berry painted lips. - They’re not very remarkable really. 

     - They’re remarkable enough.

To say she had spent the rest of whatever was left of the morning in the bathroom either throwing up or urinating and whenever she wasn’t in the bathroom seemingly detoxing from whatever she had consumed last night which hadn’t sat well with her, she was exhausted, sleeping in her bed and swearing to herself never to eat anything from this hotel ever again.

She swore she didn’t remember seeing anyone this sick ever since Dan’s girlfriend became pregnant. Pregnant. That thought hit her like a freight train and as quickly as she had laid down to rest, she bolted from her bed and into her suitcase, reaching for her necessaire which showed her a full pack of pads. She was certain she had gotten the pack right after her last period which she was sure had been in November. She bite on her nails, getting up, eyes glued to the pack wishing that once she blinked it would be half empty. 

Shivering, she rushed over to her door, opening it to see if Elias was around and luckily he was. She was probably overreacting, she convinced herself, yet it was better to be safe than sorry. 

    - Are you alright, miss? - he questioned, noticing her uncharacteristic unresting look which seemed to haunt all her features. 

    - We need to go to a pharmacy. - she almost whispered the last word, afraid someone would connect the dots despite the pharmacy having several other things which would cater towards her. - The furthest pharmacy you know. Outside the Upper East Side. 

    - That wouldn’t be safe, miss.

    - Please. 

The bodyguard could do little to nothing to convince the young woman to stay within the city. Instead of fighting with her, both of them just got inside the car and started to drive as far away from the watchful gaze of the Upper East. Her mind was going over her biology lessons. Nausea could be related to anything such as food poisoning, flu, migraines and so on. It was probably just food poisoning or maybe a very very bad case of PMS. Nevertheless she couldn’t help but panic as she saw the safe environment of the Upper East disappear. Y/N didn’t want anyone to even dream of her buying a pregnancy test and as she reached the furthest pharmacy a car could take her to, she rushed like a bullet to the pregnancy aisle pulling one of every single brand into her shopping trolley. After a few minutes, she had at least 10 in her trolley and after avoiding several dirty looks from the people standing with her in line and the employee serving her, the handmaid returned to the car, clutching to the paper bag like a precious gem. 

Once she was back in her hotel suite, she dropped the bag on her bathroom floor, going through several and several tests, placing them away from her gaze as she convinced herself that this could be almost everything other than pregnancy. She wasn’t pregnant, she couldn’t be pregnant, she tried to convince herself once more as she looked at the first pregnancy test. Two lines. Well, it could be a faulty test. Another one, two lines and the same pattern applied to all of those following the one/two line system. The other ones all showed the word pregnant and as she read the last one, she could feel whatever resolve and structure she had within her slowly erode.

Pregnant. She was pregnant. Either that or more than twenty tests were giving her false positives which she found it to be not plausible. She slide down her bathroom wall, legs folded as she stared at the wall in front of her. She was pregnant from a soon to be married man. Mr. Williams words rang in her mind, mistress. She was the mistress pregnant with the bastard. At that thought, tears started to cloud her eyes and like a scared child, she hide her face in the middle of her thighs, hoping everything would go away, hoping all her mistakes and lack of judgments were nothing but a really, really bad dream. 

     - Angel? - she could hear his voice followed by knocking on her door. She cleaned her eyes with the back of her hand, grabbing every single stick and stuffing them in one of the bathroom doors. Elias had probably heard her crying and warned Sebastian about it. - Angel? Y/N? Open the door, please. 

     - I’m going. - Y/N turned on the tap, slapping her face with cold water hoping she would look less like a mess and more presentable. Raising her face to stare into the mirror, she told herself to calm down, she told herself to forget about the tests which were hiding in one of the bathroom drawers. She was fine, she was gonna be fine and as she convinced herself once more that she was fine, another knock took her off her mind.

With a strong will, Y/N gripped the knob of her bathroom, opening the door very slowly. Sebastian was standing behind it, dressed as poshly as he normally did however a bit more relaxed with the jacket being off and his dress shirt first buttons unbuttoned. A tense look seemed to dissipate as she held the door close to her collarbone, not having it fully opened.  

    - Are you still sick? - his hand raised to rest against her warm cheek, caressing it with her thumb. - Elias said he heard you crying. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?

    - I hate hospitals. - she lied, wishing nothing more than to go to the place which would confirm what she already knew. There was a great deal of worry and care in his baby blues, and she found herself avoiding them, afraid she would blurt out she was pregnant. - I’m fine, Sebastian, I really am. 

    - Okay, angel then look into my eyes and tell me you’re okay. - he picked her chin, softly pulling it up so her eyes looked into his. Even with that, she still managed to dodge his gaze. - Angel, what’s wrong?

    - Nothing’s wrong, I’m just ... I’m just stressed. - she smiled tightly, hands moving from his shoulders to his elbows, letting out a breathe that seemed to have been held within her for ages. However, it came out shaky, one that made her want to return to her self wallowing state yet before she could, he had already wrapped his arms around her figure, holding her as if he was his whole entire universe which, in some way, she was. - You really needn’t worry. I’m sure you have other more important things to deal with.

    - Wedding preparations will never be more important than you. - he kissed the crown of her head, getting lost in the scent of roses and lilies of her perfume. - Come on, lovely, whatever it is, it can be solved. 

    - No, I don’t think it can. - she mumbled against his crisp white cotton shirt, wondering if she closed her eyes tightly enough, things would seem to exist and she would wake up from the hell she had started to live in just a few minutes ago. 

   - Angel ... - he cupped her face. - It’s gonna be okay.

   - It’s not. - she could feel her eyes water as her mind rushed through all they could do which was nothing. She was now just another pregnant mistress, the other woman. - It’s really not. 

   - Listen to me, angel. - he tried to remain calm but his resolve was quickly faltering as he stared at the tear tracks on her bountiful cheeks, so far from her soft and luminous smile. - We’re gonna be okay. Y/N, I ...

   - Y/N! - Y/N took a step back, her head turning to the door where Gwen was standing, her gaze more on her phone than the two of them. With a sigh of relief, the handmaid let a small yes slip her lips. - Bridesmaids dress try out, come on. You’re late. 

    - I’m really sick today, Gwen. Can’t we just postpone it? - Y/N still was unsure if her stomach could hold anything and being forced inside a dress sounded more like modern torture than every other thing she had her do. 

   - You’re on your feet, clearly not sick enough besides we need to get it done today. 

   - Gwen, don’t be cruel. - Sebastian added.

   - Shouldn’t you be trying your tux? - she fired back, almost like the whole conversation was a script only her had memorised and could now easily manipulate. - Or do you intend to look like a mess on my wedding day.

   - Our wedding day. - he corrected which greatly upset Gwen. - I’m sure a few days delay won’t ruin it. 

   - She’s my handmaid, not yours. - Gwen gave him a sarcastic tight smile, shooting Y/N a look which made her immediately walk to her side. - Your tux better not be loose. 

Y/N followed Gwen, head looking down but not before sharing an apologetic look with Sebastian. Instinctively, Y/N placed her hand in on her stomach as the two women walked into Gwen’s bedroom which seemed to have turned into an atelier with several women taking measurements and dressing other women in periwinkle dresses. 

An older woman grabbed Y/N, shoving her the same periwinkle dress in her arms, ordering her to try it on. However, as Y/N pulled the zipper past her waist she found it didn’t completely zipped up. Oh no. She tried to bring both parts of the dress together so it would zip up but nothing. Her dress fit everywhere but her bust which was bigger than before.

   - What’s wrong? - Gwen noticed Y/N struggling to pull the zipper up. - God, Y/N, I told you not to gain weight. 

   - It’s just my chest ... probably PMSing. - she lied, of course it wasn’t because she was PMSing. She wished she were, that would mean she had one less problem on her. - It’ll be fine in a week. 

   - It better be or you’re not attending. 

Joke or no joke, she’d rather not attend it. 

tag list: @lilya-petrichor​​​​ @xoxohannahlee​​​​ @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater​​​​ @nikkipea​​​​ @madisonpillstrom​​​​ @cevans98​​​​ @thelostallycat​​​​ @sideeffectsofyou​​​​ @anxiousdreamersworld​​​​ @captainchrisstan​​​​ @lookiamtrying​​​​ @sarge-barnes-sir​​​​ @stuffforreferences​​​​ @thebadassbitchqueen @sebastianstansqueen​​​​ @nsfwsebbie​​​​ @strangerliaa​​​​ @emzd34​​​​ @everything-is-awesomesauce​​​​ @dreams-in-blxck​​​​ @krismeunicornbaobei

[bibliocratic]

tread softly

S4 Canon Divergence + Mythological Creatures AU Mermaid!Sasha, Pheonix!Tim, Selkie!Martin

cws apply - see tags

Peter Lukas has always prided himself on the timing of his entrances.

He is not there, then he is. The ward slips colder, down into single digits. Martin gives a jerking shoulder-hunch motion when he notices his unexpected arrival, coupled with an intake of breath. No noise this time, no jumping, no explications of suddenness or surprise. Martin Blackwood takes well to both shock and silence with a delightful sufferance, and Peter is indulgently proud.

The lad is, as expected, by the Archivist’s bedside. Crone-backed, ringed with an satisfying corona of misery.  It’s after visiting hours, but Martin likely hasn’t even realised that the gaze of the ward staff and orderlies has simply grazed past him when he came up, when he took his traditional post, when they do their rounds. Martin has not wanted to be noticed, so he won’t be.

Peter idly watches the machinery and tubes threaded though the Archivist like mechanical embroidery. This one seems eminently more worse for wear than Gertrude ever was. Stronger, though. Peter watches Elias’ chosen as he lies still and sedate for all he stalks the landscape of dreamers, and wonders if he might see the Eye’s favoured come to fruition in a way Gertrude never did.

All the more reason to talk to Martin, it appears.

“What do you want?” Martin says. Dulled, thick-throated. He’s wiping his face free from damp with his baggy jacket sleeves, glowering at Peter with a delayed annoyance, as if he’s interrupted some no doubt tender petition for waking. The antiseptic stench of the hospital worsens the tension in his bones.

He is perfect for their God. Peter’s so pleased the Archivist wasn’t so careless to have lost this assistant like he nearly lost both of the others. Elias told him that the Corruption had already sought to burrow into the debris of this lost soul, that Martin has taken the mantle of archivist well, while Beholding’s chosen was indisposed. And it is true that Martin’s gaze is more assessing than he would like. But Peter knows that Forsaken has long laced Martin’s lining with mist and dew-damp cold, filled his stomach with fog far longer than those petty chancers have tried to have him in their maw. That his God’s touch has been settling like thronging, subdued snow in place of Martin’s sealskin.

“I wanted to see if you’d thought about my offer,” Peter replies genially. Pushing his hands in his pockets, ignoring Martin’s radiating desire to be left alone.

Martin has. Peter doesn’t need Elias’ pretty little parlour tricks to know that Martin has likely thought about little else.

“I’ve been a bit busy.”

“Oh right!” Peter says after a moment’s pause. It visibly annoys Martin that it didn’t come to mind faster. “That spot of bother with the Flesh. All sorted now, I’m sure!”

“Why didn’t you do something to stop them?”

Peter crinkles his face in a deliberate confusion. Casting out his line.

“Why, what should I have done?”

Martin takes the bait with ease.

“It’s your job, isn’t it?” His voice pitches with accusation. His hands ball into fists, and he moves to standing, the chair complaining as it’s pushed back. “It’s your responsibility! You’re in charge now Elias is gone.”

“Thanks to you,” Peter replies smoothly. “And your companions seemed to do a good enough job. A few bruises here and there, a few near misses. Nothing they won’t heal from.”

Peter slides closer. Just a step. It makes his skin sing discordant at the proximity, but Martin stiffens, an anxious intake of air despite himself, and Peter knows he’s paying attention.

“I could ask you the same question,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you do something to stop them?” Peter doesn’t sound judgemental. He doesn’t have to, Martin will paint on layers of meaning without overdoing this particular nuance of his game. “It was very impressive, watching you all. They all held their own very well. Except you. You could argue I suppose, that it’s not the same. That you’re not like the mer or the firebird or the sphinx, no added little genetic extras, and you don’t get any boost from any old helpful Power like that police officer, or the angry one touched by the Slaughter. You’re just Martin. And that’s… that’s the problem, isn’t it? Just Martin. Nothing to offer in the fight, no way to protect them. Holding them back. They could have been hurt, and you wouldn’t have been able to do, well, anything at all.”

“I…” Martin says, and Peter takes another step.

“The Extinction is a pressing threat. There isn’t time for me to wait while you finish your grave-side widow routine. I need you to help me, and it would be only fair, in return, for me to help you.”

“Oh, what, you can fix me then?” Martin snaps.

“Not at all,” Peter says. Smiling, because he is so funny, with his rage sputtering in a fog that seeks to tamp it flameless, stumbling headlong and blinded into the conversational pitfalls Peter’s dug behind him. “No, no, I’m afraid you’re broken, Martin. I speak from experience when I say you’ll never grow your skin back.”

Martin freezes. He looks Peter up and down like he’s expecting to see something different, the scales fallen from his eyes, but this is the only skin Peter has worn for so long now, and he endures the slightly prickling gaze of Martin’s Eye-touched observation.

“You… You were – ?”

“A long time ago. Before the Lonely granted me a better shroud to cloak myself in. It is not a selfish God, Martin. It offers gifts, or payment, if you prefer that way of understanding it, to those who work in aid of its ends. Benefits that could protect your friends, should something as unfortunate as the Flesh’s assault occur again.”

“And what about Jon?”

“He’ll wake up. Or he won’t.” Peter replies cheerily. “Either way, you can’t do anything for any of them like this.”

Martin gives him a scowl. Peter lets it pass over him. He knows, before Martin even opens his mouth, that he’s won.

Sasha avoids the sea.

She does not know why. Its pull is no lesser through her absence. She has dreams of sinking and never coming up for air, and she does not know if it is serenity in the ceaseless drop or despairing surrender. She marks the high days and festivals of her people alone and unremarked upon, speaks to her landward kin infrequently and vaguely. She needs to be here, she tells herself harshly. She can’t go off when there’s so much to do, when she’s in the process of losing so much. One of her family cold and vanishing, one breathing through a machine, and one… he died, died properly, and although he came back purged of something poisonous, the shrapnel scarring of collapsed masonry on his skin and the reddest, warmest wings sprung from his back, this does not settle her terrors.

She cannot leave. Not when she could lose sight of her splintering shoal so easily. Not when she’s unsure the temptation to dive down and out, deeper, further away, wouldn’t ensnare her to cowardice.

She finds the first scales in the shower. It’s a myth that any water will have the skin of her legs go slick, then bumpy, fusing into one muscled tail with her scales folding outwards. She can have showers and baths without impact. It’s the sea, that is the essential component. The same for most deepwater kin. Not the sea, maybe, or exactly, but what it represents in the change. It’s something about floating out into endless space clad only in human skin and human lungs and trusting not to drown. The letting go of one form with the tide and permitting the waves to bring forth another.

Her scales are dimmed, like they’ve smudged. Their colour diminished.

It’s not a molt. Her people don’t. Tim does, normally annually. Before they travelled to Yarmouth, he’d been dropping feathers around the office almost continually with stress. Nesting, and growing in new and painful sections of wing, snapping with a yo-yoing temper.

Tim notices. Maybe because he’s the only one left. Basira is holed up somewhere of course, as is Melanie, but it’s not the same. They weren’t here before, they don’t have the context for how much their group is diminished, falling to pieces slowly like her own skin is.

They’ll be visiting Jon later. She hasn’t seen Martin in weeks.

Tim approaches slowly. Looks at the flakes of blue in her hand. Understand flowers gently in his eyes, and he reaches out and touches her arm, and she forgot the world could manifest in ways other than hurtful.

“You OK there, Sash?” Tim asks.

“I don’t know,” she replies. “I don’t… I just…  When did it all go so wrong?”

“I dunno,” Tim repeats, and he doesn’t move away and she doesn’t want him to. “God, I – I don’t know, Sash.”

Jon’s clothes are dirt-clotted, ripped up by the grind of rock, and holding him tarnishes Tim’s feathers grey, smudges the pattern on his t-shirt into obscurity. His teeth are chattering, goosebumps bobbling up his arms and making the dark hairs up his arms stand on end. Tim suspects it’s more shock than cold.

Sasha brought him a glass of water, holding her palm under it because Jon’s long-fingered grip is so shaky it’s sloshing the water up the sides.

“Told you the rib was a shit idea, huh?” Tim says. Played as a joke and deliberately shorn of any accusation. He breathes in-and-out and Jon follows the rise and fall, and it benefits both of them. Tim’s getting better at control. He’s had to. His anger grows in like pinfeathers but so does his grief these days, a full plumage of emotions he is learning to deal with.

Jon coughs up something that could be agreement, but is mostly dirt and grave soil over Tim’s shirt.

You should have waited for us, Tim thinks but does not say because there would be too much teeth in it, and Jon’s skin is already whittling down to skeletal. We asked you not to go, we wanted a better plan, why didn’t you wait.

You could have died, down there in the dark, and we wouldn’t have even had a body to mourn, he does not say.

We love you, you idiot. We love you and even that wasn’t enough to stop you leaving, he does not say.

We’re already losing Martin, he does not say.

A room full of looping, chattering, overlapping tape recorders. Neither Tim nor Sasha stacked them, and Jon would not have thought to.

It should be a reassurance, that Martin’s been here.

God, Tim hopes he knows what he’s doing.

Sasha rubs at Jon’s back, helps him sip another small trickle. Tim’s wings, voluminous and unwieldy, knock over recorders in a clattering collapse as he scoops them around to shield them both. Against the balmy heat Tim’s throwing out, Jon’s shivers gradually subside.

“Daisy?” Jon murmurs. His teeth are grimy with soil.

“She’s with Basira,” Tim replies.

Sasha’s picked up the rib that’s dropped out of Jon’s clenched palm. Wiping the grime off it and staring at it without clear expression.

“Why, Jon?” she asks.

“I wanted to help,” Jon says. His words small, like he’s embarrassed that he even thought of it. “Even if it was one person. I wanted to be able to do something good for a change.”

“You could have died,” Tim says.

Jon’s horrible flat chuckle scrapes over his lips.

“I’m not sure I can anymore.”

“Yeah…” Tim replies subdued. He glances at the red daggers of his feathers and thinks he understands that.

“I wonder what it would take,” Jon says idly, slurring with exhaustion, and Tim grips him closer and hopes he never finds out.

Martin doesn’t react when Sasha sits down near him. The breeze, a vicious snagging chill tussles his hair, some wisps twisting into nothingness like smoke from an extinguished candle. She is still getting used to this Martin, or perhaps the Martin he never let others see. The toned-down stillness of him, the undisturbed waters of his expression. His skin not quite solid, the patches that have returned pale, sickly-pallored in the softening dim of moonlight. The rest of him is a coalition of fog, a hazy motion to his image like he’s wave-rocked, smoked out.

Long minutes pass. Sasha sits down cross-legged. The waves ripple up the stones that make up the strip of beach surrounding the loch, and they’re hard and uncomfortable under her.

“I can’t swim, you know,” Martin says finally. The sea is louder than he is, and he can make himself so quiet these days.

“No?”

Sasha keeps her tone light, inquisitive without intensity. Martin shakes his head, and his image lags, skipping disjointed, like his connection is poor.

More silence. Sasha doesn’t know what she should say, where Martin’s thoughts are at. She scratches behind the base of her gills, rubs at the dorsal fins sitting mostly flat under her sleep shirt.

“I didn’t live too far from the sea,” Martin continues. Looking at the wavering mirage of his hands without comment. She doesn’t even know if he recognises her presence. “We had Liverpool about an hour away. Even Blackpool, I guess. My primary school had a swimming club, where they’d pack them off to the big leisure centre on a coach afterschool. Kids’d get these little medals for managing like five metres, or ten, fifteen. But there was a small fee, and Mum said…” He snorts out a dismissive breath and his face twists, and neither of these actions suit him. “Doesn’t matter. I never went, and I never learnt, and that was that.”

“You could always come swimming with me?” Sasha proposes slowly. Lost in the swell of this conversation, why Martin’s talking about the sea, what this has to do with anything. She wishes he’d look at her.

Martin doesn’t answer immediately. He might not have even heard her.

“I told Peter, and he said that made it even better. That it was a such a – ” he says the word with a sneer, the words sharp-toothed in his mouth “ – gift, that I’d never even had the opportunity to know what I would miss, not even a memory to embellish or to sour. That there was so much that could root in absence. He said I should be grateful.”

“Peter Lukas said a lot of shit,” Sasha says.

She shuffles closer to him. Puts her hand on his knee.

“Whatever he told you was bollocks, you know that right?”

Martin blinks. After a moment, his hand joins over hers. His image grows denser, less likely to be stolen by the midnight air.

His eyes, fixed out on a horizon point in the slick dark of the loch, are still distant.

“I just wish I understood why she did it,” Martin murmurs.

“Who?”

“I did some research. After Elias… after I found out. I couldn’t have been the only person, and it’s rare enough but there are – help groups… you know, therapists that specialise in that kind of stuff. But I didn’t… I couldn’t face going to one. I thought that… knowing what was so wrong with me would make it easier, but it didn’t. All my life, I…. I was stupid enough to think it might be something I could fix. If – if I changed myself enough, if I said the right things, loved the right people, then I might… that someone could fix me. But it can't be fixed. That’s what all the leaflets said. That it was best to think of it like a permanent injury. Like having a stroke, or some sort of brain damage or something like that. Something irreparable.”

“Martin, sweetheart…” Sasha starts. She doesn’t understand. The flotsam of Martin’s speech grows erratic and he’s started shivering, and it’s no wonder, dressed in a t-shirt, pyjama trousers and some thick socks.

“Do you know much about selkies, Sash?” Martin powers on. Chattering teeth and goosebumps and it’s like he’s drawing something out of himself, some infection long done its damage. “Not many of them left, and they don’t usually venture landward like some of the other deepwater species. They mate for life apparently. Staunchly social communities, and some of them can’t… can’t cope, if they lose their group, or their partner. They take off their pelt, and just swim off to drown. A-and those help groups and therapists, those people who had theirs stolen, or destroyed… they’re, god, they’re all terminal. They last six months, maximum. Because it kills them, losing it. They waste away and they die. And here’s me…” Martin’s face twists again, and it’s bitter and angry and despairing all at once, “and I just get to keep going.”

“Selkies…?” Sasha says. “Why are you….”

She trails off in a gradually dawning horror.

“Martin?”

“She burnt it,” Martin says, his tone stringing higher now, distress sweeping in like a squall to break up the unnatural apathy in his voice. “I don’t think she knew what it would… I mean, I don’t know, maybe she did, maybe she wanted me gone just like dad, I don’t know, and I’ll never know because I can’t ask her why. I didn’t even… it was so long ago. I was sick and then I got worse and it was awful and I didn’t understand why I was so ill, why everything hurt just so much… and after, when I was better, Mum said it was appendicitis. I believed her. Course I did, why wouldn’t I. I didn’t know… not until Elias, and I’ll never know what I’ve lost, or why it didn’t kill me, maybe it was because I was so young, or because it’s only from one side of the family, I don’t –  I don’t know! I’ll never know! It’s a whole part of me that she just… she just took a-a-and…”

Martin’s back bows like whalebone. He takes long shuddering breaths like his words are keelhauling across his lungs.

Sasha’s never heard of a selkie with only half their soul. She can’t imagine, what it would do to someone.

She moves in front of Martin and he moves forward against her like a wave crash. He’s taller and heavier than her, and the impact pushes her back momentarily before her arms catch him.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” she says, “You can do it, breathe.” She holds him so surely, and she always will. And he starts crying then, the first time since Jon was in hospital, and he won’t or can’t stop shivering, and it is horrible to hear every emotion inside him claw itself back from the brink.

She keeps telling him to breathe, and he keeps following that instruction through sniffling and sobbing and broken-voiced confusion,  and she counts it as a small victory nonetheless.

Jon’s mouth cannot scream.

Tim’s in the next room, the kitchen, drying plates and bowls and cutlery, within shouting distance, and he’d be here in a moment – he’d help if only Jon could speak a word other than his unbidden, unwanted recitation.

Jon’s mouth doles out its terrible missive, and he doesn’t not feel like a person as Elias rolls out the triumphant red carpet of his plotting and scheming, the self-satisfied weave of his grand finale. And no, he’s not a person, not for a long time now;  he’s a catalogue, a testimony, an archive, and he would never have chosen this.

His hands scrabble at his throat, and his eyes are blurred with tears, his vision obscured, but it does not seem to matter, for his skin ripples and sloshes like an inkwell and a hundred eyes swell and pop and inflate again like bubbles against his skin.

Someone else screams. And the multitude of Jon’s eyes are newborn, fractal-imaged, gummed up with a feast of far-reaching horror all witnessed by him, overseen and devoured in his sight, and it is hard to translate what his original set of open, weeping eyes see. There is motion. Commotion. There are apologies being spoken in his ears, fervent, petitionary, but he is hearing the rising insistent thrum of the summoning and it is as sickening as it is beautiful. Someone is holding a hand hard over his mouth, the grip painful and punishing but even then the words burble out through the cracks. Another hand clamps over his eyes, and he shrieks and thrashes as his words gather to a crescendo.

A hand tears the paper from his grip. There is an acrid whoosh of smoke. Jon drops like the rigging of a ship being torn down. The hands at his mouth and eyes lower quickly to loop around his waist, catch him and hold him up.

Jon sees Tim, wide-eyed and shimmering with terror even as his skin burns gold and his feathers shine and there are only sooty flakes left of Jonah’s statement, scattering down from his palms.

He thinks it’s Martin behind him. Jon folds further, all his weight pitching forward and Martin’s forced to come down with him as he retches the leftover words in his mouth; king of a ruined world, he vomits up with bile and ink, and it splashes with a disgusting slop over the living room floor.

Sasha’s partially webbed hands are holding back his hair as he hacks and gags, his lips stained black, his stomach heaving as he chokes on everything that comes up, his stomach roiling with an overwhelming nausea.  Conduit of fear, he brings up, dribbling from his lips like paper pulp.

After a long while, it’s over. Sasha carries him to the bathroom, and helps him clean up, although Jon has little memory of it.

He wakes, feeling like a shipwreck, and Tim is there. Sat nearby, his head in his hands. His fingertips stained with ink and soot. He can hear Martin and Sasha talking in low tones nearby.

They're still here. Even now, he’s surprised that they haven’t left him.

And Jon has no words remaining, so his body betrays him with airless, silent tears, at all he could have wrought upon this world, at all the suffering he could have brought to their door to still be granted forgiveness for.

It is not the end. It is an interlude, a reprieve. In some ways a kindness, and in others, waiting is its own cruelty.

They’ve bought blankets to the beach in order to cushion the hardness of the stones rounded by tide and time. It’s the first time they’ve gotten Jon to come outside for more than a few minutes.  The scratches up the column of his throat healing. His voice still damaged, scratchy and scraped from misuse.

They’ll have to be moving on soon. To make plans for whatever future they need to avoid.

She sits up, and stretches out from where she’s been lying against Tim’s thigh. Glances at Jon, barely four metres away on a separate towel. Grey-haired and tired-eyed. Martin’s holding his hand, the left one crinkled by burns, as they talk about something treasured for its meaningless. Despite everything, Jon’s face practises relearning its smiles, even as he touches tentative at the marks around his neck, the bruising at the edges of his mouth.

The tension has not faded from Tim’s shoulders. His plumage sharp and strange even now. Her own scales patchy and bare, whole sections that have not grown back.

She considers her battered but striving shoal, and wants to show them that their past is not all there will ever be. That there will be an after-this, whatever that looks like. She wishes they spoke her tongue, so she could gift them names, new names, for the things they have become, this things that they have survived, and all that has survived them.

“Martin!” she shouts over, a sudden inspiration seizing her. “Want to come in the water with me?”

Martin’s expression barrels through at least three iterations before it hovers between wary and uncomfortable.

“I – er… I might just be better off here, actually.”

“No pressure,” she tells him, and she means it, for all she remembers that he has never had the chance to know the sea as she has, to feel his whole weight held up by the water. “But I am a pretty spectacular swimming teacher. I promise I won’t let go.”

Martin, to his credit, thinks about it. Gnaws on his lip, stares away from her and at his knees. Next to her, she can feel Tim bite back an enthusiastic declaration of encouragement for fear of spooking him.

Martin stands gingerly, and she is so proud of him.

“I haven’t got a costume,” he says.

“Your boxers will be fine.”

“We want something pretty to look at, show us those legs, Martin!” Tim says. He times the tone playful, the perfect balance of joking and complementing, and it works, with Martin’s blushing and ‘shut it Tim’ distracting him from the enormity of his decision as he neatly folds up his jeans, and takes off his shoes and socks. Sasha peels off her long skirt, rolls down her tights. She dislikes shoes on principle, and rarely wears them.

The rocks dig into the soles of Martin’s feet as they waddle down to the shore, slow going and interspersed with wincing.

She takes his hand as they stop, stand a foot from the border between land and sea.

“We’ll just go a little way out,” she promises. “The water’s fairly calm but for your first time…”

“I don’t think I can do this,” Martin whispers. He hesitates, and she waits for his decision.  And then, he creeps forward, and she follows. He swears vehement as the water hits his toes, and he almost balks to feel the frigid temperature, but he pushes forward, his swearing getting more and more creative the further he walks out against the tide.

From the headland, someone cheers, likely Tim.

“Don’t look at them,” Sasha says. “Come on, this is all you, ok?”

Her legs unfuse into her tail, and she shivers out a feeling like cramp, luxuriating in the sensation against her skin.

Martin tentatively wades out. He’s tall, but there’s a point where he stops, knowing to move forward means his feet won’t touch the ground.

“A little further, yeah?” Sasha encourages, and he nods jerkily, a frantic up-and-down, his expression petrified. “You can do this. Don’t look at the water. Look at me.”

Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she pulls him slowly into deeper waters. His fingers are pressing rounded marks into her forearms. His leg gestures are sloppy, thrashing, and at one point he dips below the surface with the disturbance he’s making, and he splutters as he resurfaces, surging up, eyes bulging in a betrayed panic. She continues to reassure him and doesn’t let go as they stop and simply float, the shoreline easily in sight.

“How does it feel?” she asks.

“Wet,” he grumbles. Clearly concentrating, he treads, kicking out in a motion that gradually finds rhythm.

For a long while, it is them and the sea. The waves rub up against the bare patches in her scales, but the reminder is not painful.

Martin’s breathing calms. His terror recedes, and he looks down at the obscured water under them.

“Can we go out a bit further?”

She’s not doing as much pulling now. She shows him how to use his arms to push himself through water, and stopping and starting, correcting his gestures and posture and breathing as they go, they drift further out before stopping again, hanging suspended above the depths.

Martin smiles at his own unexpected success. He lets out a long, satisfied sound like something’s loosened in him for the first time.

His eyes, completely black, reflect the dour and overcast midday sun.

“Martin, your eyes.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Martin says, but no – he doesn’t say, he barks, and then gasps, and then barks again, stunned, unsettled. He doesn’t look upset. He’s bitten his lip with his too-sharp teeth that now line his gums, and he touches the sharp pain it has caused with incredulity, his still human fingers marking out the sensation of the new.

“What’s happening?” he asks and Sasha grins, and says “I don’t know, Martin, I don’t know” and he’s splashing, a seal without skin, something entirely himself, shivering minutely in the cold shock even as his smile shows off his pointed teeth. He barks again, the sound almost jolted out of him as he figures out how it works, and she trills in delight, and it sets him off grinning and kicking. And for the moment, for this moment, the Lonely is banished entirely landbound, and there is only them treading water, surrounded by the endless sea and trusting they will not drown.

They have to go back to land eventually. The waves around them start to wash choppy, the sky colours grey with the surety of rain. They swim back, and sometimes Sasha lets go, bobbing near his elbow as he swims slowly but steadily on his own.

Martin’s teeth flatten when they crawl onto the shore, panting and burbling out the dregs of their laughter. Tim and Jon have come over to greet them, Jon holding the towels and garments like an overladen clothes tree. Tim chucks Sasha a towel to fold around herself into a makeshift skirt before her tail bisects back into legs.

“Tim, Tim, Tim!” Sasha says excitedly, waving her hands and gesticulating.  “Did you see, did you see?”

“See what…?” Tim starts, but he glances at Martin, whose eyes are slow to fade from black to blue, and Tim might not realise what exactly has happened, but he senses the tenor of the mood because he’s barrelling in, knocking into Martin, wrapping him in a hug and nearly smothering him with his wings. Once released, Jon approaches slowly, putting his burdens down. Martin glances up at him, almost anxious now that the initial buzz is wearing down, but Jon goes softly to his knees, and his smile spreads across his face like paint in water.

The grey of the sky feels far off as they allow themselves the momentarily uncomplicated gift of being happy.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3.

Chapter 37: Martin Prime

It was weird hearing his fiancé arguing with someone who sounded like him but wasn’t, Martin mused idly. Like listening to a tape he didn’t remember recording.

It was also weird, and would probably always be weird, that he could tell the difference between Jon’s voice and Past Jon’s voice, at least when he was paying attention and not overly upset. Theoretically they were the same person. Practically, they were very different, just because of what they’d both been through. Jon’s voice had just the faintest rasp to it, the lightest bit of scarring on his vocal chords from both Daisy’s knife and Jane Prentiss’ worms, and Past Jon’s voice was a tad softer, less hardened by time and circumstance. The distinction in their voices was subtle, but it was enough.

“You knew about the bullet. You should have said something to her,” Jon said, for what was at least the fifteenth time in the last week. Martin could imagine him waving his arms as he did so. “If she gets shot because she didn’t know to avoid it—”

“It wasn’t like I had an opportunity in the conversation,” Past Martin protested. “I did tell her to be careful.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jon demanded.

From the stress on you, Martin guessed he’d turned the argument on someone else, and it was Past Jon who answered. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, don’t worry, you’ll come back alive but with a ghost’s bullet in your leg that’s going to make you irrationally angry’? I did the best I could. We were recording.”

“I’ve told you before, the recorders aren’t the Eye—”

“Uh, I need to take this back to the library before it closes for the weekend,” Tim said, but it didn’t seem to make an impression on the argument that Sasha was now chiming in to.

“He’s right, you should have told her. Should have warned her against joining the Institute, too.”

“I can do that when she gets back,” Past Martin pointed out.

“I told Basira what was going on,” Sasha said.

“But not in relation to herself,” Past Jon said. Martin could imagine that being accompanied by an accusing jab of the finger,  but he wasn’t going to make assumptions. “Besides, that’s different. Basira is the type to weigh all evidence and theories against her options when making a decision. Melanie’s more the type to give in to emotion, especially anger. It’s impossible to tell which way she’d go if you gave her that kind of information first. It’s very likely to make things worse.”

“Don’t you Know at me, Jonathan Sims.”

Tim made a noise imitative of a supermarket’s tannoy crackling to life. “Manager to Mr. Kettle, manager to Mr. Kettle, there’s a Ms. Pot for you on line two.”

“Would that be the pot calling the kettle back?” Martin asked. He was rewarded with a choked-off laugh from Tim’s direction, but he was pretty sure nobody else in the room heard either one of them. With a sigh, he heaved himself out of the armchair. “Want me to come with you to take that book back? This is going to take a while.”

“Sure. We’ll be back, guys.” Tim evidently directed this at the others, but again, no reaction from anyone. He sighed. “Here, give me your arm. Bringing your cane?”

“Better not, just in case we run into someone. Get me to the stairs and I should be okay.”

The sound of the argument faded into the background as they made it to the steps; Martin let go of Tim’s arm and gripped the railing instead. By leaning forward, he could anticipate when they hit a landing. “Thanks. What’s the book on, by the way?”

“Oh, it’s one of the circus books. I—I know I’m obsessing a little about it. I know the circus itself isn’t the important bit, but…I don’t know. Forewarned is forearmed, I guess.” Tim was silent for a moment. “Unless it is something about circuses that are important.”

“No, not really. Just…an excuse, I guess.” Martin tried to put into words what even Jon had never asked his opinion on; there hadn’t been much of a chance before the Unknowing, and after it there hadn’t been much of a point. “I’ve noticed that’s one of the places the Stranger is drawn to, is the entertainment industry. Not just the circus, but the theater. I-I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not the only one drawn to it. You know as well as I do the damn things overlap, like the bleed on the edge of colors.”

“Mm…hang on, I have a question, but we’re hitting the main floor. I’m gonna throw my arm around your shoulders like I’m telling you a bad joke, okay?”

“Thanks. And thanks for the warning.” Martin braced himself against the railing.

Tim’s arm came down heavily over Martin’s shoulders, and he turned his face towards him, hoping anyone passing them would assume he was engrossed in Tim’s extremely skewed sense of humor. True to his word, Tim picked up in the middle of a joke as they left the stairwell. “…the Brother Superior stands up as usual and sings, ‘Good morning, broooo-theeers.’ And all the brothers sing back, ‘Good moooor-niiiiiiing,’ except for the one little brother who’s rebelling. He sings out—”

“’Night, Martin,” a sweet, young-sounding voice called.

“Night,” Martin called back. It sounded like Manal, but he didn’t want to risk saying the wrong name and drawing attention to himself.

“Oh, hey, are you heading upstairs?” The voice got closer, and Martin and Tim drew to a halt. “This came in the mail drop for Mr. Bouchard. I meant to bring it up right away, but we got slammed with students and I forgot. Must be the first paper of the term coming up due. Can you give it to Rosie, please?”

“Sure, no problem.” Martin reached out uncertainly and—fortunately—touched a cardboard packet; he was able to grab it before it became obvious that was luck. He hoped. “Have a good night, Manal.”

“You too.”

Tim got them started walking again, continuing as he did, “Anyway, so the brother who’s rebelling sings, ‘Good eeeeeeve-niiiiiiing.’ A hush falls over the whole refectory. Brother Superior stands up, looks around the room, looks each brother in the eye, and then sings, ‘Someone chanted eveniiiiiiing…’”

Martin let out a long, protracted groan. “God, Tim, how long have you been sitting on that one?”

“Years,” Tim admitted sheepishly. “You’ve got to have the right audience for it, you know? Someone who both appreciate puns and knows enough about music to catch the reference.”

“If I could see you, I would hit you.”

“Must be my lucky day. Mind the steps.”

Martin switched the cardboard packet to his other hand in favor of the railing, and was surprised when someone tugged it away from his fingers. “Hey—”

“Sorry, should’ve warned you I was doing that,” Tim said. “I just figured it’d probably be better if I hand it off to Rosie, since…” He trailed off.

Since Martin couldn’t see her, wouldn’t know where to find her, and the last time he’d been in her office it had been…somewhat different. He tried to push the image of the top of the Panopticon out of his mind. “Yeah, probably for the best. If she’s still there.”

“She will be. Always one of the last ones out the door. Not sure how much of it is Elias keeping her to the last minute and how much of it is she doesn’t want to miss anything.” Tim paused. “Speaking of being unbearably nosy, wonder what Elias is getting from one of the Lukases that can’t be delivered in person?”

“They don’t like doing anything in person if they can help it, Tim. It’s kind of their whole…deal.” That close to Elias’ office, it didn’t feel safe to mention the Lonely out loud, or any of the fears, really. “I very much doubt we’ll find out, though.”

The railing didn’t level out—it just stopped, something Martin discovered when he almost pitched forward from abruptly not having something to lean on. He caught himself against the wall with a rather loud slap and thanked his lucky stars he’d always had a (mostly undeserved, to be honest) reputation as a klutz. Assuming anyone was still around, they’d probably just think oh, Martin tripped over his own two feet again, insofar as they thought about it at all. Rosie was probably watching, though.

That was confirmed—more or less—when Tim said in a bright, jovial voice, “Rosie! Good to see you. Can you give this to Elias? Manal asked us to bring it up.”

“Of course.” Rosie’s voice sounded just like Martin remembered it, and he curled one hand into a fist to stave off the memory of her staring up at them, face perfectly blank except for her eyes, somewhere between dazed and terrified, as she blandly asked if they had an appointment…

Not for the first time, Martin wished there had been any other way of protecting him from the Eye than by destroying his vision. Setting aside the usual, mundane difficulties that came with total blindness—difficulties any person faced with complete loss of sight would have to deal with—there was the simple fact that the last thing Martin had seen, live and in person, had been a post-apocalyptic hellscape. The last time he had seen the Institute, it had been a tower of black glass and twisted steel looming up into the stratosphere; the last time he had seen London, it had been swarming with very interested cameras and monitors and paintings of eyes; the last time he had seen the sky, it had seen him back. He could remember the way things had been before, but those last impressions were awfully powerful, and it hurt.

“Was there anything else, Tim?” Rosie asked. Martin frowned slightly. Under her voice was something eager, something…hungry. She wanted something, and he wondered what it was. He remembered Jon’s unwilling statement, where he’d talked about her constant desire for secrets—she could probably give Sasha a run for her money in terms of snooping, and no wonder Gertrude had always talked to her as if she was in the know. Was that all it was? Was she prying for secrets? Or—Martin bit his lip—was it possible she’d been taken over by the Not-Them, that she was drawn to Tim because of his Stranger mark? She sounded like he remembered, but if she were replaced in this past, would it replace his memories of the future, too?

He bit back a groan. Douglas Adams was wrong about the biggest problem to time-travel being grammatical tenses; clearly, the biggest problem was making sense out of the recursive nature of body-stealing, memory-altering creatures.

“Nope, that ought to do it. Gotta get to the library before they lock it up for the night. Have a good weekend, Rosie.” Tim knocked twice on something wooden, probably her desk, then came over and touched Martin’s arm. “Let’s go, Freckles.”

“Night, Rosie,” Martin called, because he would have before and Past Martin would too and there was no sense in making Rosie—or Elias, if he was still there—suspicious. He could imagine the false, charming smile she flashed in his direction, but there was no audible response and he didn’t expect one. Instead, he simply linked arms with Tim, let him lead him down the corridor, and prayed nobody had left a door open for him to run into.

The sensation of stepping into the library was instantly a familiar one to Martin—the feeling of stepping into a soaring, open space, but an oddly safe one—odd because of the sheer number of truly dangerous and terrifying works contained there. Any book with Jurgen Leitner’s bookplate on it was destroyed long before it got this far, of course, but even before he’d gone to the Archives, Martin had wondered if someone would be able to tell one of Leitner’s books if the bookplate was papered over or removed. Once he’d learned the truth, that Leitner had been a collector rather than the author or even the commissioner, he’d wondered how many books of power were actually in the Institute’s library. On the one hand, it didn’t seem likely that Jonah Magnus would allow any genuinely powerful books to get this far; on the other hand, it would certainly explain the library’s asinine and borderline ludicrous lending procedures.

Martin hung back by the door, sliding his hands into his pockets and hoping he was sufficiently out of the way of everyone bustling to get their assigned tasks completed so they could be out the door on time. Idly, he wondered who was on the desk. He’d usually ended up working it on Friday afternoons; everybody else hated it because, as Rebecca had once complained, there was always one person who came back with an enormous stack to return with ten minutes to go before they were supposed to clock out. Every book had to be checked against three different lists, certain inspections had to be made, and the identity of the person returning the book had to be checked twice. And it all had to be done by hand; every attempt to automate and bring in a computer had been met with catastrophic failure. Martin had actually kind of enjoyed it, especially since it usually meant he was left alone at the end of the week and could take his time, lingering over shelves and experimenting with the acoustics. If he thought he could get away with it, he might creep up here some evening after the Institute was closed and throw a few more songs into the darkness. It was different in the Archives.

“Well, hello there, Martin!”

Martin almost leapt out of his skin and whirled around, his heart pounding. “Jesus!”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” The voice was coming from roughly Martin’s height, but that was about all he could tell, that and that it was female. It had no distinctive characteristics, nothing to trigger a name in his mind. And yet, whoever owned it knew his name, which meant it was someone he should know. He’d have to bluff. “Haven’t seen you up here in a while.”

“Yeah, just—been busy,” Martin said lamely. He waved in the direction of the desk. “Kind of figured you’d be glad to see the back of me, to be honest.”

“Oh, now, why would you think that?” The woman, or at least Martin presumed it was the woman, patted him on the cheek with a soft, fleshy hand; he tried not to flinch at the unexpected touch, or the unpleasantly dry feel of her palm. “You’re such a hard worker, and always so cheerful. You’ve been missed, but I’m sure Jon appreciates having you in the Archives.”

If this was a joke, Martin didn’t think it was very funny, but he managed a smile anyway. “Well, we all had a settling-in period, but that’s in the past now. I do miss it up here sometimes, but I like being down there, too.”

“And we’re very glad to have him,” Tim said, suddenly right next to Martin. “C’mon, buddy, we’ve got a weekend to catch before it slips away…have a good one.”

“You, too, Tim. And you, Martin. Don’t be such a stranger—come back and visit us more often. We’d love to see you again.”

“Sure,” Martin said softly. “’Night.”

Tim didn’t say anything the rest of the way back down to the Archives, which Martin appreciated. Going down stairs was a hell of a lot more complicated than going up; he couldn’t lean as safely, and the kick-and-drag method was a bit less effective. It took concentration to keep from pitching forward and tumbling down the entire flight, and if he tried to spare any braincells for conversation, Martin was pretty sure he’d end up missing his footing. Tim’s hand at his elbow helped, especially since the main floor was crowded with people leaving for the day. A few called greetings to Tim, but they all ignored Martin, which was fine by him.

There was a sense, when they re-entered the Archives, of an argument put on hold, something that was confirmed when the first thing Martin heard anyone say was Jon’s voice. “What do you think, Martin?”

“Gender is a social construct, Shakespeare is overrated, and paisley is horrendously tacky no matter what color it is,” Martin replied promptly. Someone hastily turned a snigger into a cough.

“I mean, about whether or not you would have told Melanie more about what to expect in India.”

Martin felt around until he located a chair. “I think my opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters,” Past Jon protested.

“Not in this.” Martin met Jon’s hand coming towards him and squeezed it gently. “What I would have done doesn’t have a lot of relevance here. It’s not our story anymore.”

“What?” Past Martin sounded genuinely confused. “Of course it’s—”

“I mean,” Martin said quickly, “that you’re not us and we’re not you. What I was like at this point in things isn’t anywhere near where you are, and vice versa. Same with Jon and your Jon. To be honest, I don’t even know if I would have made the effort to be friends. But at this point, things are different enough that telling you how we would do it isn’t very…efficient, I guess? It’s your story, your lives. You’re the ones shaping it. Trying to do things the way we wish we’d done it…well, if the circumstances aren’t the same, it won’t have the same outcome necessarily. You’ve got to do what you think is best.”

“That’s…a good point, actually,” Jon admitted. He sighed. “I apologize for lecturing.”

“’S all right,” Past Martin said. “Gave me a chance to stand my ground and all.”

“Which you need to do more often,” Tim said cheerfully. “Anything to boost your self-esteem.”

“Ouch, Tim, really?” The effectiveness of Sasha’s reproof was lessened by the obvious smirk in her voice.

“Yeah, okay, I probably shouldn’t have said it like that, but it’s true. I’m not completely oblivious, you know. I can put the pieces together, and from the little you’ve said about working in the library, I got the impression you thought they hated you up there. Especially Diana.”

“They did,” Past Martin protested. “The only one who ever even spoke to me directly was Diana, and even that was just to give me orders. It’s hard not to know someone hates you when their method of asking you for help is to wait until you’re in earshot and then tell someone else to ‘just leave that for Martin, he’ll fumble his way through it eventually’.”

“Did they really do that?” Jon asked quietly.

“Constantly,” Martin affirmed. “Speaking of, Tim, who the hell was that who was talking to me while you were checking that book back in? I didn’t recognize the voice.”

“Wait, seriously?” Tim said with an audible frown.

Martin sighed. “Look. Down here it’s pretty easy to tell who’s talking. You’ve all got pretty distinct voices from one another. It’s hard to tell my Jon and your Jon apart if I’m not concentrating, but there’s enough of a difference and I know you well enough to be able to figure it out, usually. But out there? If it’s not someone with a distinctive pitch or accent or speech pattern or whatever, it’s hard to tell. And something like ninety percent of the people who work here speak with the exact same voice. About all I could tell was that I was talking to a woman.”

“I guess that makes sense. Just figured you’d recognize Diana’s voice when you heard it.”

“Pretty sure I would. So who was that?”

There was a half-second’s pause before Tim said, “Diana.”

“Diana?” Martin repeated incredulously.

“You’re sure you didn’t recognize her?”

“No, and it’s not just the accent. I didn’t think the ladders got that close to where I was standing.” Martin rubbed his forehead. “God, my mental map of the library is all off now.”

Jon wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. Tim sounded bewildered. “What do ladders have to do with anything?”

“It sounded like whoever was talking to me was around my height. I mean, that could’ve been the way sound bounces in the library, but—”

“No, that’s—she is around your height. She always intimidated the hell out of me.”

Martin sighed. “Okay, I think we’re talking about two different Dianas here. Which Diana was this I was talking to?”

“Diana—what the hell is her last name? The head librarian?”

“Caxton,” Past Jon supplied.

Something cold trickled down Martin’s spine. “Describe her.”

“Uh—tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair that she usually wears piled up on top of her head, looks like a Quentin Blake illustration come to life—?”

“That’s who the artist is! I can never remember his name,” Sasha said, punctuating the remark by—from the sound of it—slamming her open hand against the desk.

“That’s not Diana Caxton,” Past Martin said decidedly. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, or why she would have told you she was, but—”

“It’s the Diana Caxton I know,” Past Jon said. “And you should, too. She was there when I took Melanie up the first time, said they missed seeing your smiling face up there.”

“Look, that’s not Diana,” Past Martin insisted. “I should know. I worked there for ten years, Jon. She’s shorter than five feet tall, her hair’s been completely silver for a while now, and she has a Korean accent. I don’t know who this woman is you’re describing, but it’s not Diana Caxton.”

Jon tensed, his arm tightening around Martin’s shoulders. Softly, he said, “I think it is now.”

There was a moment of horrible silence as that sank in. Martin had to admit that the idea of the Not-Them taking over Diana hadn’t even occurred to him. He’d just…assumed that if it was anyone, either it would be someone in Artifact Storage foolish enough to disregard the warnings or it would be Rosie. And, okay, maybe there’d been a foolish little part of him that had hoped it wouldn’t take over anyone. But somehow, the idea of it being Diana Caxton just felt wrong. It was true that she hadn’t liked him all that much when he’d worked for her, but then, he’d been unqualified and incompetent, bluffing his way along, and she’d likely had to pick up a lot of his messes. And he knew for a fact that the twice-widowed bookworm had a flock of grandchildren who adored her—he still remembered the day her youngest had come to visit, just before he’d been transferred to the Archives, and attached herself to Martin with a thousand innocent questions and bragging stories about “my Nana”. It wasn’t fair for anyone to be taken by that thing, but especially not someone like Diana.

There was a banging noise, like the Archives doors had just blown open, and Martin jumped, clutching at Jon’s arm. His first thought was that it was the Not-Diana, having realized they knew, coming to take them out. His second was that it was Elias, the jig would be up, and they would have to try and implement their plan now, and what if Jon wasn’t strong enough to do what had to be done and—

“Basira?” Sasha said, sounding somewhere between shocked and relieved. “What are you doing here?”

Oh. Martin relaxed, but not much. There was absolutely no hiding his or Jon’s presence. Past Jon sounded nervous as he said, “I can explain about—”

“Save it. I don’t care.” There was a thump and a rattle as Basira—her voice was unmistakable, too—dropped something on the desk in front of them. “Here.”

“Are those the tapes?” Past Jon asked.

“As many of them as I could get,” Basira replied.

“What happened, Basira?” Sasha’s voice was gentle, but—surprisingly—there was no static in it, even though Martin could almost feel it building in the room. It hit him, suddenly, that Sasha’s ability from the Eye didn’t enable her to ask for secrets. Only to take them. He decided to keep that particular unpleasant realization to himself for the moment. “I thought you said you were done with the Institute.”

Basira let out one of those frustrated noises Martin, unfortunately, knew all too well. “They’re covering it up. Altman’s death. Saying he was dirty. That he got stabbed in a drug deal gone wrong.”

“Wait, so the operation you went on—” Past Jon began.

“Doesn’t exist. I mean, I didn’t know Leo well, but…it’s not right. And they seemed happy enough to get me out the door.”

Someone poked at the box, if the rattle was any indication; Martin guessed it was Sasha, since she spoke again. “So why bring us the tapes?”

“Well, they’re sure as hell not going to solve Gertrude’s murder,” Basira said. “And from what you said the last time I was here, they’re probably of more use to you anyway, even if her death’s not in here. Before, I guess I had enough police in me not to steal evidence, but…”

“They’ve rather lost your loyalty,” Jon supplied softly. Martin slipped his arm around his waist and pulled him close.

“You won’t get in trouble for this, will you?” Tim asked, actually sounding concerned.

“Don’t think so. Daisy knows I’m bringing them to you. They won’t know they’re missing until they do inventory, and then only if they check the sectioned stuff.”

“Thanks, Basira,” Sasha said. “I owe you a drink or two. Just say the word.”

“Long as you promise not to talk shop,” Basira replied. “If I never hear another thing about this place…that’ll be enough for me.”

Martin heard footsteps starting to retreat across the Archives floor. Impulsively, he called out, “Basira.”

The footsteps stopped. “What?”

Martin looked in what he hoped was the right direction to look her in the eyes. “Keep her close. You’re her tether, and excuses only carry you so far.”

It was the same thing he’d said to her, once upon a time and simultaneously in a nonexistent future, loitering in the hallway of an abattoir outside an instrument room. She hadn’t wanted to listen then, and if he was honest, he hadn’t really taken his own advice all that well. He could only pray she would listen now, and that she would understand what he was talking about—and what he wasn’t saying. Don’t let your partner turn into a monster because it’s easier than saying stop.

After a moment, Basira said, her voice so soft it almost wasn’t audible, “Right.” With that, evidently, she left the Archives.

Jon pulled Martin around and wrapped him in a tight hug; Martin could feel his face pressing into his shoulder as he hugged him back. He, at least, had understood. They held each other for a moment, both hoping—despite what she’d done to them months ago—that Daisy could still be saved.

There was another rattle as someone poked at the tapes. “Where do we start?” Sasha asked.

“We go home,” Tim said firmly. “It’s Friday, and it’s past quitting time. Let’s just—let’s just go home, take the weekend to regroup, and we can come back and look through these on Monday. Maybe, um, maybe you two can go through and pick a few you think we ought to listen to.”

“Or,” Jon suggested, “we can sort them out. Gertrude labeled some but not others. If I set the blank ones aside, that might be good practice for you to sort out the color muddle. If that’s all right.”

“Either way, Tim’s right,” Past Jon said softly. “It’s late and we’re all tired. Especially…now. Let’s just go home. We’ll see you on Monday.”

Everyone wished one another goodnight, and the team departed, leaving Jon and Martin alone in the Archives. Martin waited a moment, then asked, “Do you want to start looking through them now?”

To Martin’s surprise, Jon hesitated for a minute, then said, “No. I think I want to put these in the Archivist’s office, and then I want to take a walk with my fiancé and maybe go out to dinner. What do you think of that?”

Martin smiled. He could feel himself blushing a little, but he didn’t care. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”

[moon-ruled-rising]

as the rain hides the stars | xiv

Read the full story here...

xiv: we can’t make any promises

This ain’t for the best,

my reputation’s never been worse so,

he must like me for me.

We can’t make any promises

now can we babe?

But you can make me a drink.

-Taylor Swift, “Delicate”

When Dany was younger, she planned her future wedding with as much fever and gusto as a young princess with every resource at her disposal could. It would take place in the Great Sept of Baelor, obviously, as that was where all royal weddings took place. She would marry a wealthy foreign diplomat, or even better, a foreign prince. The guest list would be a mile long, with even more people attending the reception afterwards. Above all else, she remembered wanting one of those ridiculous many-tiered cakes and a hideous confection of tulle and lace for a dress. 

Of course, as Dany got older, the wedding day dreams were replaced with visions of a career and increasingly less domesticality. If nuptials ever presented themselves, she would go the quick and easy route of elopement. Anything else was frilly fantasy. 

Except now, those things were tangible and real. And the only thing that survived of her childhood wedding plans was the foreign prince, the only thing she didn’t have a say in. 

The Queen commandeered an old study near Dany’s guest room to be their official wedding planning headquarters. The whole space transformed and lost in the madness of planning two royal weddings in the span of a month.

In order for all the kinks to be worked out on the paperwork and numbers part of the treaty, Dany and Jon needed to be married as soon as possible. On top of that, both families were convinced they could sell the out-of-the-blue engagement as a whirlwind, love at first sight romance. Which meant they were stuck with a very limited window to get everything planned to the high expectations of the most important wedding of the decade. Maybe even the century. 

 Catelyn sat opposite of her with Elia and the Palace Event Planner, their electronic forms attentive on the screens. The Royal Event Planner from the Stark side was going over more options for color schemes. 

They’d ruled out Targaryen red and black unanimously and Dany shot down both the mauve and dusty pink options. She’d had enough of those colors in her youth. Varys always insisted she wear pink to everything important, as all unmarried Targaryen ladies did for centuries. The last thing Dany wanted was to deal with it on an already stressful, terrifying day.

The planner pressed a button on her little remote and another color palette appeared. 

“This one consists of laurel green, timberwolf, and a neutral grey,” she reported before continuing on about the reasoning behind the colors. 

“Too much green,” Dany said with only slight disinterest, reaching for a ring of fabric swatches near her.

“The ceremony is taking place in Godswood, the last thing we need is more green.” Catelyn agreed.

As Dany ran her hands over the pieces of cloth, she noticed a familiar color. 

“What about this one?”

She held the burgundy swatch up so everyone in the meeting room could see, including the two virtual guests. Deeper than Targaryen red and verging on purple, it was the same color as the heart-shaped leaves of the Weirwood tree.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Catelyn cooed.

Elia voiced her approval at the same time.

“Could you create a palette around this and bring it tomorrow?”

“I can have it to you tonight, Your Highness.” She collected the sample and made a note.

“Thank you. And there’s no rush,” Dany smiled.

Once the meetings were over she hoped to avoid anything marriage related. She looked at the long list they still needed to cover. At least we’re getting somewhere. 

“Next item of business is wedding party assignments,” the planner continued.

“Since this marriage involves someone who is first in line for the throne, candidates for bridesmaids and page boys are selected by proximity to the royal family as well as status within the court. Here is a list of possible candidates.”

A list of potential bridal attendants landed in front of her. Rhaenys and Aegon were at the top of their respective categories along with Sansa, Arya, and Bran but the rest of the list was names she was unfamiliar with. 

“Lyanna Mormont would be a good choice. The Mormont’s have always been strong supporters of House Stark and her grandfather, Jeor Mormont, is currently Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. Choosing her would be a statement about your commitment to the Night’s Watch, who defend our Northern Borders.” Catelyn suggested.

Dany made a star by the name and surveyed the rest; Karstark, Maderley, Tallheart. She wanted Missandei as her maid of honor but knew better than to suggest it. It wasn’t her wedding. Technically, it was a transaction between the heir and the useful spare. Everything had to follow tradition.

She expected there to be limits on what liberties could be taken. Rhaegar and Elia’s wedding was much the same way, everything decided for them and all they had to do was show up and say the words. It all looked sparkling and magical to fourteen year old Dany as she watched from the audience with the other bridesmaids. 

Another list was set in front of her but this time she knew the names. They were the great houses of Baratheon, Tyrell, Arryn, and Tully. There would be at least one bridal attendant from each region and with the wedding between Cersei Lannister and Robert Baratheon, there was a spot open. Dany marked another star by Myrcella’s name and continued to survey them.

“We don’t have to have them all decided today, but within the next few days is preferable. We still have to send out the invitations and notify the choices for bridal attendants,” the planner reminded the room as Dany placed the selective list into the binder holding all of the wedding plans.

The mockup of the new couple’s cypher was tucked inside the cover, an intertwined D and J with a crown over it. It was strange to see her initials with someone else’s. 

According to Catelyn, a traditional Northern royal wedding ceremony included a processional, presentation of a sword, exchanging of vows and rings, changing of the bride's cloak, and recessional. 

“I’m sure we have a maiden’s cloak somewhere in this palace. They were in fashion once,” Elai stated, “I’ll have someone start looking as soon possible. Unless, Dany wants to commission a new one but that would tie up the seamstresses.”

“I was actually thinking we could exclude the changing of the cloak,” Dany spoke up.

The look she gained from the room wasn’t what she would describe as pleased. 

“It’s been performed at wedding’s for centuries,” Catelyn argued.

“Well, then, what if we altered it. A veil, cloak, and dress is a lot of layers but if we substituted something else. Like…”

To be honest, Dany hadn’t thought her suggestion through and as she frantically racked her brain for an example, she remembered Sansa’s festival outfit and the particular piece of sparkle that caught her eye.

“A brooch.”

“A brooch, Your Highness?” the planner questioned.

“Yes.”

“I think it’s a lovely idea. There are certainly more dragon pins in our collection than cloaks,” Elia offered, being the only obvious supporter of Dany in the room at the moment.

“We would need to discuss it further,” Catlyn sighed, writing something down.

It was the first time one of Dany’s suggestions garnered such a reaction from Catelyn and she was especially grateful she hadn’t suggested Missandei be in the wedding party.

“Now, there is one more tradition that we would like to keep. The first dance is always performed as a choreographed reel.”

“Choreography?” Dany bleated.

“Dany, you’ve taken dance lessons,” Elia tried to reassure her.

“When I was twelve. And something tells me this is a completely different wheelhouse than ballet and ballroom.”

Catlyn spoke up, “Not entirely but it does require a few sessions to get everything smooth. Unless you want to do away with that too.”

The way the Queen’s eyes settled on her was a warning and a challenge. As if speaking against her would bring the whole wrath of the North upon Dany. 

She straightened and tilted her chin a fraction, “I haven’t made my mind up yet.”

The wedding planner cleared her throat. Dany took that as her sign to let the moment pass and return to the task at hand. 

“We usually broadcast the ceremony but given the circumstances we’ve decided against it,” the planner informed, “but there will be a photographer there to capture everything.”

At least she wouldn’t have to deal with bloggers analysing every angle and glance. 

Her phone buzzed next to her and she turned it over out of curiosity. The notification expanded even though Dany didn’t want it to, revealing the news headline about her engagement. Her throat tightened and she squeezed her eyes shut as she took a deep breath. For most of the morning she’d been able to sit through the planning session with a detached sense of reality, like she was watching someone else flip through books of swatches and check items off lists. 

“Your Highness, are you alright?”

“Could you all excuse me for a moment?”

Dany stood and walked from the room with as much control as she could. As soon as the door closed her pace quickened. She wasn’t sure where she was headed but the more distance she put between herself and the wedding business the better she would feel. It took a flight of stairs and several turns before she was satisfied, only to realize she was absolutely lost.

With only one tour of a place as massive as Winterfell, there was no way Dany wasn’t going to get turned around. The sounds of a conversation came from a room down the hall. As she approached the details of the exchange became clear.

“I mean, this woman hasn’t had a single long term relationship in her life and suddenly she’s up and engaged to a man with a much higher rank after a week.”

She knew at once what they were talking about and rolled her eyes. Jon wasn’t that much higher ranked. 

The door was open when she reached the room, so she leaned against the frame. It was a smoking lounge and the conversation was coming from an old radio. Jon sat in one of the leather chairs, engaging in the act that the room was meant for.

“I’ll tell you what it is, it’s southern imperialism.”

The second person laughed.

“You shouldn’t listen to this shit,” she warned, a hint of teasing in her voice, “It’ll rot your brain.”

When Jon looked up, she stepped into the room, crossing to sit next to the radio as well. The room had a masculine energy about it that Dany was smitten with. Dark wood and leather, the stone around the fireplace and the sleek bear pelt on the shining wood floor, just one of the many hunting trophies on display with old weapons.

“A King should always listen to what his people have to say,” he remarked.

“To genuine criticism, but this is just conspiracy and gross speculation.”

The radio personality continued, “We’re allowing this foreign woman access to the ear of the most important person in our country. Now, what do you think she’s gonna do with that kind of power?”

“Push her own agenda.”

“Exactly, her southern agenda. She may have had people fooled at the Midsummer festival with that traditional dress stunt, but I was not impressed.”

She scoffed. The outfit wasn’t meant to be a PR stunt. Sansa suggested it and Dany agreed but they failed to consider that Dany was actually a nice person who wasn’t putting on a front.

And as for pushing her southern agenda, Dany wished they knew how much she loathed her brother and refused to impart his plans on anyone. Especially after the text message she’d received from him the other night, demanding her to hurry up and seal the deal. It was then she figured out how to work the whole ugly mess to her advantage. 

No matter where in the world she ran, she still had to answer to her brother and the Crown. And renouncing her titles was a hassle with too many negative repercussions, including Rhaegar’s thinly veiled threat of black listing her if she did. But in his desperate attempt to settle her down, he was handing her an escape plan on a silver platter. 

It wasn’t the sort of liberation Dany was looking for but it was the only kind she was going to get. And if it weren’t for the hysteria surrounding the weddings, she might have counted down the days like she did before her departure to university, with giddy anticipation.

As she brought her attention back to the radio personalities and their outlandish theories, she let herself sink down into the club chair. It was much more comfortable than the wooden one she sat in all morning and she was past caring if she wrinkled her business casual ensemble.

“While I’m with you on imperialism, I think there is a more obvious reason they’re engaged so soon and that is Princess Daenerys’ wardrobe. If you didn’t know, the Targaryen’s hosted their annual charity gala and the dress she wore was … putting a lot on display, to put it delicately.”

“I know what you’re talking about. Is there not a dress code at that court? Not that it matters, I mean, we all know about her nip slip-”

We’re still on that? She supposed the news cycle in the North was slower, allowing people like the two morons on the radio to focus their attention on something the South already considered old news. That would take some getting used to.

“You know, they said that picture was doctored,”

“Yeah right. At least Prince Jon knows what he’s getting in bed because there is a popular interview with her ex-lover Khal Drogo, he compared her to-”

“Could you turn it off, please,” Dany asked, not wanting to hear what came next.

“Gladly,” Jon answered.

She reached for the cigarette case without a second thought and slid one free, Jon lit it for her.

“So, tell me the truth. Are you really a spy for your brother?”

“What?” she choked on her laugh, not expecting that particular statement.

“The seductress of the south sent her to infiltrate the royal family and sell our secrets to foreign enemies,” he said with humor in his voice.  

“I can assure you I’m not. Whatever nefarious plans my brother has at work, he hasn’t included me in them. Not that I’d want to be a part of his scheming.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“I’m not,” Dany laughed.

“Promise?”

“I, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, first of her name, Princess Royal of the United Kingdoms of Westeros, and Lady of Dragonstone, promise that I am telling the truth. And when I make promises, I don’t break them.”

She lifted her cigarette back to her lips.

“I thought you were supposed to be in top secret wedding meetings all day.”

“We were in the middle of discussing the ceremonies and I needed to take a breather.”

“Let me guess, tradition?”

Dany groaned, “I’m going to be sick of that word by the time this is all over.”

“You get used to it.”

She wasn’t so sure. Her whole life was dictated by that word, and it wasn’t going to change anytime soon. But while the Northern traditions were a thorn in her side at the moment, 

She considered him for a moment, “You should come to them.”

“I don’t think I’d be of any help.”

“Yes you would. Right now, it’s me against Her Majesty and as much as we both dread it, it’s still our wedding.”

“What did you do to make Catelyn dislike you?”

“I merely suggested we re-evaluate a certain element of the ceremony and she acted like I insulted her entire life’s work.”

“As far as she’s concerned you did. Besides, if I showed up, there would be two people in the room she hates.”

“Exactly! Maybe she won’t even come. But it’s not her fault. There are so many rules about these weddings and she’s just trying to make sure everything goes smoothly. Now that I’m thinking about it, it would be more helpful if you weren’t first in line for the throne.”

“Not fair. That is all I have going for me,” he complained.

“Oh, whatever.” exclaimed Dany as she rearranged herself in the chair, folding her legs underneath her so she could lean on the arm and face Jon full on.

“You expect me to believe that you’re oblivious to the goo-goo eyes that get thrown at you everywhere you go?”

He threw up his hands in surrender.

“Oh my gods.” Dany shook her head.

“Okay, answer me this, if I wasn’t heir to a vast country who you happened to be engaged to and you met me at a bar, what would you do?”

Dany looked him up and down, trying to look like she was seriously considering his question. She already knew her answer, she’d admitted it to herself that night in the greenhouse. I wouldn’t hesitate to add you to my list. But hookups and marriage were different things with a common denominator and she didn’t want her answer misunderstood.

“Well?” he asked.

“Now I don’t want to answer it,”

It was his turn to roll his eyes at her.

A voice from the doorway called, “Your Highness”.

They both turned their heads. It was Ser Jorah and Dany sighed in relief even though she knew she was being dragged back into the wedding fray.

“Her Majesty wanted me to let you know the florist is here.”

Dany nodded and snuffed the butt of her cigarette into the ashtray. When she stood, she saw that her pants and blouse weren’t wrinkled and was relieved. 

“Have fun,” Jon said as she headed for the door.

Despite her best efforts, a chuckle and smile escaped her.

“I’ll try.”

[sheepish-uwu]

if u take requests, could you write a small bit abt lion reacting to docs death?

of course, and merry (early) christmas anon! i hope this is to your liking!

i gift to thee: 2.2k words of pure doc/lion angst! rated for MATURE audiences as it deals with dark themes :). enjoy! you can also read it on  a03!

Death was a demon that had once held an inescapable clutch on his soul - as it tends to do with many - for the elusive afterlife was intimidating to most. It was a trampling force that held no remorse for those caught in the aftereffects and was one of the only things Olivier could not run from other than God’s judgment. All he’d known how to do was run; run from responsibility. Run from his family’s advice. From the people he loved. From his son. From his lover. 

Olivier had sworn he’d gotten over the fear of death. The moment he’d been exiled from his own family and girlfriend, he’d considered himself better off as dead then. He had been a shell of a human being back then, constantly wishing for death’s release despite lacking the willpower to go through with any of the treacherous thoughts that had plagued his mind. He often sends thanks to the divine force that kept him from that horrendous fate. There must have been a reason for keeping him alive even when he was practically six-foot underground in his own alcoholic and drug-induced misery. 

Death had become a common factor in his work field to a point where he’d never bat an eye at the miscellaneous casualties if there was a purpose. It was the main cause of his and Gustave’s disagreements whenever they’d argue, their differentiating philosophies and viewpoints remaining on very shaky ground that he’d squint to say was common - so they ignored it the same way they ignored each other’s politics. In his defense though, life was just so fragile. Mortality has kicked him in the face multiple times. Like when he was barely an adult and hospitalized for his toxic obsessions, he’d had a lot of time to think about how close he had been to death and, more bitterly, how many had died to something he hadn’t. He’s held the hand of sickly dying patients and carried heavy corpses of civilians and colleagues to a point where any shock, fear, or emotion has dissipated. 

In Rainbow, the only deaths he’d witnessed were the ones of recruits. It was always upsetting to lose a member of their organization, yet their losses had never really phased Olivier - at least not in the way it affected people like Gilles who’d worked and trained with them more personally. They had yet to lose an actual operator though, whether it be through sheer luck was unknown to Olivier - yet they’d always managed to keep a clean streak even when missions went haywire. It was common to joke about dying on the job otherwise the lingering fear would eat them alive, and despite the teasing nature, there was always a truth to their words. It remained unspoken, yet drifted through the atmosphere whenever anyone laughed about their possible fate in an upcoming mission. Despite the mirth in their teasing voices, Olivier saw the flash of uncertainty and fear in their eyes - the feeling being reciprocated by everyone else in the room. 

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? The lead up was unbearable, someone had to die eventually - right? It was all a matter of who and when. Everyone secretly expected the more reckless operators to be the ones to die first; after all, they were the ones who joked most about dying and were more prone to life-endangering endeavors. It’s what made the most sense, right? 

So why was it that their doctor - the one who preached the most about caution and safety - died first? Why hadn’t it been someone like James - who jumps headfirst into the fray without thinking? Or Elias - who practically gloats about willing to dive right in front of bullets to save lives? Often times, Olivier thinks he’s the butt of a joke the entire world is playing on him. Right when he gets complacent, comfortable, and happy with the way his life is heading, life throws a curveball that sends him tumbling back down the steep rocky mountain he’d been so desperately trying to climb. It’s what happened when he was a teenager and thrown out to the streets, it’s what happened when he almost lost his rank from his relapse into toxic behaviors, and it’s what’s happening now. 

And it hurts - so much more than all those experiences combined - to a point where Olivier wants to scream. Rip his hair out and peel off his own skin in a valiant attempt to shake off all these layers of pain and anguish. And this loss shouldn’t hurt him so much. He - he thought he’d gotten used to death’s company. And death wasn’t the final destination, there was life for Gustave after his earthly one - even if he wasn’t a devout believer in heaven or hell. For Olivier’s own sake, he held onto the notion that Gustave was with his heavenly father despite his lover’s religious doubts. The thought of Gustave being permanently gone tore at Olivier’s chest and applied an emotional pressure that made his sternum feel like exploding. 

Even still, despite knowing Gustave is in a better place, Olivier despises every second without the other French man’s company and guiltily relishes in this selfish desire. He misses Gustave and desperately searches for ways to keep his lover’s presence lingering, even if it wasn’t physical. He’d already gone through a phase of replacing all of his pillowcases with Gustave’s clothes, inhaling the poignant scent of his lover; outrageously expensive cologne, aftershave, and home. The day the scent wore off had been soul-crushing, and instead of being comforted by the pacifying smell of his deceased lover, he was met with his own depressing stench of sweat, tears, and desperation. 

The love he shared with Gustave was resurfacing into a loneliness that made every tender memory sour and turned every night alone with his right hand into a pathetic display of grief - any kind of pleasure received being reduced to a vigorous lust for what he couldn’t have anymore. The night his anger, grief, and desire merged into one amalgamation of self-loathing sent Olivier on a rampant self-destructive course, seeking out the artificial love of strangers for a taste of the past. 

Except it was superficial and each impetuous touch from the men couldn’t compare to the way Gustave’s careful nimble hands had once explored his body. Where Gustave was attentive, loving, and selfless in the way he reduced Olivier to a babbling mess, they were rough and selfish. Greedily taking from Olivier - though he’d be a hypocrite to be modest and say he hadn’t initially been doing the same thing - and the realization that this wasn’t Gustave, and he’d never find a suitable replacement for the love he’d once shared with the man, hit him like a freight train and sent him barreling down into a pit of despair. Any sound of pleasure he’d once emitted was obscured, all there was was pain - his cries being muffled underneath sweat-laced skin and the sound of the once euphoric activity. When the brute realized his sobs weren’t of pleasure and asked a concerned “shit, are you alright mate?”, Olivier merely nodded despite how much his soul screeched at him to say no and spill out the cesspool of his inner demons and unrelenting heartache. 

His church had been helpful and alleviated the unbearable torment of his wistful thoughts. The people he confided in supported him through his mourning, promising to keep him in their prayers. Their intercessions helped ease the nagging thoughts that he was completely alone in this particular struggle, and the distractions from his time volunteering kept his mind away from the distress in his empty home. Gustave never went to church with him despite how adamantly Olivier tried to convince him, and he never would’ve imagined he’d ever be grateful for it. Everything and everywhere reminded him of Gustave, but not his church. The only place Gustave refused to accompany Olivier to, and the only place that didn’t overwhelmingly remind him of a certain presence he was missing. 

He tried to find solace solely on his religion, and oh how he tried to find respite and healing through prayer and guidance - but old habits die hard and the sudden influx of emotional turmoil dug up everything he’d fought so hard to control. It felt like he was constantly on a malfunctioning autopilot mode - he couldn’t control his actions that progressively got more and more destructive, exacerbating his situation without a care in the world as he let his inner demons take over. Thought and inhibition were completely thrown out the window every time he took a swing of Gustave’s once treasured expensive wine. A sight that’d surely make him fume and retch in his grave, he’d think guiltily, forlorn gaze cast down at the half-empty glass bottle. 

He dreaded to imagine what Gustave would think of him if he saw him now, and remembers vividly the disappointment and hurt that’d paint his handsome face in the beginning of their relationship when Olivier would oftentimes turn to alcohol to deal with the stress. 

“We’re a team now, anything that bothers you bothers me. Tell me please, don’t push me away - I know I’m not the most emotionally available person in the world, but I care. I don’t want to see you like this again, please.” Gustave had exasperated, crouching down next to Olivier’s huddled figured hugging the toilet - spewing out his regret from the night before.

It took him a while to trust Gustave with his anxieties and problems, and though he had always been distant with his comfort compared to someone like Gilles - who’d embrace Olivier in a warm hug and soothing words - it worked. Gustave offered Olivier a shoulder to cry on and tentative back rubs, though the hesitant physical touches couldn’t compare to his words. They held advice - a logical merit that kept him grounded and resilient with a promise that these problems he faced had solutions so long as he put the effort to solve them. 

“But Gustave,” Olivier whispered, voice hoarse as he stared at the soul-shuddering marble tombstone that did very little to dignify who Gustave Kateb was and all of his humble accomplishments. It made Olivier distraught to see the altruistic man who worked so hard, every single day, reduced to a few words. “How do I get through this? Without you?” His voice was breaking on every syllable, body oscillating back and forth on his heels in a desperate attempt to contain himself. 

Olivier was met with nothing but the sound of wind rustling through the willow and oak trees and the soft shrill chirping from the thrushes and the songbirds, a hurtful reminder of how ultimately his loss was meaningless to everything but him. The world would carry on unforgivingly and leave Olivier behind to rot in his despair while trying to grudgingly trek through life, all while carrying the heavy solid weight of grief on his back. Nobody was going to wait on him to catch up, nobody truly cared or was impacted as much as Olivier was, and Olivier was sure that right when he’d returned from his leave in Northern France, the majority of Rainbow would have moved on.  Perhaps they’d already found a replacement for Gustave. Olivier grimaced, the thought embarking a shrewd feeling of dissatisfaction that boiled in his blood. 

“I can’t do this, I don’t want to go back without you there. It’s unbearable please, I-” his pleads cut off abruptly into a sob that tore through his chest and throat, leaving behind a tingling sensation that kept his breathing uneven. “I miss you. I-I can’t… I don’t know what to do. Please, help me.” The blonde French man crumpled on the cold ground, the maintained grass damp and chilled from the icy dew-heavy morning.

 “Help me,” Olivier reiterated, body slumped downwards as he fisted handfuls of the surrounding flora carelessly - a ravaging tick surging throughout him to destroy whatever he could get his hands on. “Gustave help me. Help me, help me,” Olivier repeated uncontrollably between breath-stealing wails, his repetition a painful reminder of the birds that surrounded him in the desolate graveyard - only able to repeat rather than speak. 

“I’m sorry. For everything. I shouldn’t have spent so long fighting you, you’ve brought me so much joy. It was a waste, and I wish I could go back and spend all those hours we wasted arguing about something stupid and petty and just.. Kiss you instead.” Olivier heaved out once he finally caught his breath, eyes glazing over the dirt and grass that now contaminated his pale hands. 

A bubbling emotion surged throughout him, its force overwhelming and warm that induced a trembling in his fingertips. A phrase came to mind, the only way to explain this feeling that had been eating him alive throughout the past year. Three words contributed to this almost rapturous feeling that Olivier had stubbornly avoided saying unless he deemed the time acceptable. How idiotic he had been to hold himself back like that because now there was no more time left to share this revelation he’d been holding inside of him selfishly.

“I love you.” Olivier whispered, voice hushed as if admitting these three words was a crime - but the only thing that was crime-worthy was how long he’d kept it to himself. 

And so, he was met with nothing. Just as he had been earlier, and would be forevermore.

[echo-inthevoid]

Season 2 q&a and overall reaction

Jonny stealing everyone's names XD 

Is martin going to be ok!? I also need to know! 

He said no;-; 

ok ya, no one's gonna be ok. 

Ya, he must do sooo much research. 

Ya, except for "fatigue" lol.

Eyyy the mechanisms!! 

What's the red string brigade? Ok, I guess a group of fans theorizing about stuff. 

Oh ok so someone else did martins poetry. Ooh, there's more martin poetry out there! *grabby hands*

Ok ya, Alex clarifying that Jon isn't stupid he just makes poor decisions. Probably if he'd paused and thought about it (like I did lol, I had to go do some stuff in the middle of that ep and thought about it a whole bunch lol) instead of immediately going out and buying an axe and further isolating himself and panicking immediately he probably would have figured it out. This is why it's bad to panic in a crisis guys. 

Eyyy! Jonny's parents voiced Gertrude and Leitner! That's so cool. 

XD Jonny grumbling about having to work with his parents. 

Hmm, I hadn't really thought of Gertrude being like a mother figure in the story? She just seems very cut-throat I guess from what Leitner said. Idk so far I've been very suspicious of her. Especially since that one statement where her photo burned a whole bunch of people or something. She just seems very shady... 

Alex chortling over Jonny's pain. XD

Side note, Every time there's a q&a I just can't stop noticing Jonny's voice going in and out of archivist range? Like most of the time I'm just listening along and then he'll say a sentence a bit grumblier and my brains immediately like "ARCHIVIST! That's THE ARCHIVIST!!" 

Martin would be the last one alive in Friday the 13th! It's official! 

(Is it bad that this gives me hope)

Jon likes Nonfiction, documentaries, and probably collects something just a little bit weird. *writes down for use in potential fics* 

also while im at it I remember jon saying he dislikes coffee at one point,  and so many people have him liking coffee in their fics! This has been your daily reminder of that fact because ever since then it keeps bugging me lol. (But also do whatever u want.)

Alex's spluttering sounds so much like Martin.

Yes!! I want to hear jon sing!! Yes! Musical Episode When!!?

Ah yes yes yes! All the characters are so unique!!? How does he do it!! 

Ya, it being in audio format sometimes makes it hard to understand what's happening in the live-action bits. (Live-action is the wrong word but u know what I mean.)

Oh ok ya, how he mentioned he got a pipe was quite clever I didn't realize that that's why he mentioned it at all. 

Ooh, there's a manga where there's something similar to Michael? I'll have to look that up later...

XD Alex and Jonny arguing about apples. 

Ok, so all the statements we're hearing ARE for reals. I kinda assumed but good to have it confirmed.

They used to hang out together!!? Work function curry nights!! ;-; 

Ya Ya! Who made the leitners!?

"You are assuming a book needs to be written" ...ok then. (but it has to have been created somehow??? Did they just spring fully formed from the powers? why? And why take the form of books?)

Alex's mischievous laugh about whether jon has friends *trembles in fear*

Yes!! Micheal is so good! I'm so happy they love him too! Yesyes! His laugh! 

Ah Yes!! Mary kaey was so creepy! 

XD yes yes yes fatigue was written on zero sleep, I knew it! 

Akskdjdkd I love them so much. Also, I've looked up Michaels voice actor luke booys and he does some other horrory type sketches n stuff and I kiiinda want to do a little animatic with some of those but it's Michael like annoying some poor soul lost in his halls... I think that'd be fun. I wonder if anyone's done that yet? If so someone send me the links I neeeed iiitt :3

Season 2 summary:

Uuuuu ya so this season was really good. I kinda listened to it in bursts of about ten episodes every couple weeks and then have been saving up the reactions to post later so these are usually going up about a week or so after I actually listened to the episode just FYI. 

I also do have a lot of spoilers cause I can't keep myself away from fanfic and people don't always tag for spoilers and I kiiinda wana know what's coming beforehand anyway? Idk it's hard man I get very stressed about what might happen and then also listening to too much at a time is too spooky for my poor little heart so I gotta read the less spooky fanfic to fulfill the hyperfixation you see. (If anyone has fanfic with spoilers only up to season 2 that'd be great btw) 

Anyway, I try not to take spoiler type stuff into account unless I'm just so sure of it I can't really not acknowledge that I know about it. 

Also, can I just talk about Michael for a minute?? Cause he's such a unique character? And I guess maybe there are other characters like him but I haven't ever seen one -tho to be fair tma is only like the third horror thing I've ever really got into (the other two are the SCP Foundation in its various forms and Little Nightmares. Hence why I keep making reference to SCP it's really the only thing I know similar to this.) But he's such a cool concept!!? Like someTHING that still has a personality? He's so not human? Like I get what he says but also I don't really? Idk im pretty sure he's an avatar right? Right?? Idk if that means he was a person at some point? But all this to say that he is probably the most inhuman character I've come across so far and I'm trying to figure out what it is about him that's so "other" to me? Like... I don't really know what Micheal's deal is? he seems to want to be sort of a neutral mischief-maker but also it seems like he keeps getting invested. But also I just love the way he talks about himself. Like he's a monster that has a personality and is fully intelligent but isn't just evil but isn't neutral either and certainly isn't benevolent. Like he's so complex and just,,,, the idea of a "thing" that's got a personality?? I love it? Kind of like dryads or spirits of things? Like the idea that after a long time things gain personality just by existing? Not that that's what Michael is necessarily? but that same sort of concept applies to him I think. Like the way he IS the maze and wants to help but wants to just watch but wants to kill them all. He's just so interestinggggggg. (And another vision of what jon could become?)

 also "es Mentiras" is a beautiful name 💕

So are him and not-Sasha avatars? Not-Sasha also seems completely inhuman and I was under the impression that avatars were (or used to be) human? Or are they like personifications of their power? Do all the powers have personifications of themselves. not-Sasha seems even less human than Michael? Like she seems to just really genuinely enjoy causing fear? Tho I guess we didn't really get to hear a lot of her. She just seemed kinda gleefully angry most of the time we heard from her. Was she... Human once!???

Anyway. Also, can I just talk about leitners line about jon belonging to the eye!!? Just..*chefs kiss* hnnnngg I need more jon grappling with that. I just need more everyone dealing with the fallout post all of the finallies ok? I still need more of jon angsting over his worms scars and stuff and now I also need jon freaking out about belonging to a fear god power thing. 

Also Martin! Is Martin ok? He sure did a lot of yelling which he doesn't usually? Look I love him and he actually thinks before he acts (unlike SOME people *looks at jon*) and he writes poetry and it is pretty good poetry ok!! And he cares about everyone and just wants a happy ending and aaaaa😭

Petition to get some statements from Martin's pov tho? I mean that's not gonna happen cause Jon's the archivist but I want more martin pov!! Maybe we can get some of his poem tapes??? Pls????? 

I feel so bad for Tim. It sounds like he's kinda fallen into despair.

Also Elias!!? Is showing his spooky side!!? He can control cameras and beat a man to death with a pipe!!? This is his "place of powerr"!!? I am afeared!!? At least jon knows he shouldn't trust him now. Oh jeez, I wonder if jon will listen back to the tape and know what happened. Thhhatsss rough. Oh dear, I hope he doesn't feel guilty cause Leitner did keep trying to hurry him and now everyone thinks it was him. Even martin thinks he did it? Wich like I kinda want to hear more of his thoughts on that? How much does he believe that jon did it? Tim certainly seems pretty certain but he's a bit biased and cynical right now so. 

And they were in the maze for DAYS? 

Now I need martin recovering from being stuck with Tim in Michaels maze for days being angry and worried and hungry etc... Dksjdksa knowing jon could be dying RIGHT NOW and there's nothing he can do. Please someone give me the fic links if this exists!! I've already written like 5 drabbles based entirely on spoilers/other fics (which I'll probably post (w/ links to their inspirations) once I'm caught up and can make sure I'm not just completely demolishing cannon lol. 

Leitner didn't even scream or yell or anything when he was murdered. Literally the chillest dude ever. F

Overall super great, Elias is terrifying, let's dive into the next season!!! I've got 2 seasons to finish in like, less than 2 or so weeks(?) if I wana be caught up by season 5 hhhh,,,

Better get started I guess. 

[colesterstrudel]

The Last

Elias/OC: You keep running into a stranger in the middle of the night at the grocery store and they’re always reaching for the things you’re trying to get. The two of you settle it the best way you know how. Fluff

HELLO FRIENDS I have been working on this fic for mmmmmm ever but I finally finished it and I really like it a lot lmao. 

Tagging: @helplessly-nonstop @wrestlingfae @sporadic-fics @heeldeano 

Of course, it’s just your luck you ran out of your favorite cereal. Even better, you didn’t find out until 2 am in the middle of a Netflix binge. With a sigh, you grabbed your jacket, sliding it on before leaving your apartment. You gave yourself a mission, intent on getting to the nearest grocery store to pick up your cereal as fast as possible. If you focused, you could get there and back really quickly and not miss too much of the time you wanted to use to relax in front of your tv.

The grocery store was virtually empty when you entered, people obviously at home asleep. You should be doing the same, you chastised yourself as you peered up at the labels on the aisles, trying to find the cereal aisle. Staying up this late wasn’t incredibly healthy, and scarfing down a bowl of cereal at the time even less so. Still, if this was the way you wanted to relax for your first two-day stint off work for a while, then that’s how you’d do it, healthiness be damned.

Being so stuck in your own thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed you’d made it to the cereal aisle before you ran into a solid wall of muscle.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going!” you rambled, looking up at the person you’d run into. The man in question looked nice, in a weird sort of way. Weird for you, that was, he definitely wasn’t your type, but with his hair pulled back in a bun and his beard, well, you could make an exception for him. Except that you couldn’t, you reminded yourself as you continued to stare at him, because he’s a stranger in a grocery store.

“No problem,” he assured you, voice low and even. The smile he graced you with had you blushing, and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you stepped even further away from him before turning your attention to the shelves. It only took you a moment to scan the shelves before you saw the cereal you were after - the last box they had - and your hand shot out to grab it at the same time the man’s hand grabbed it.

Instinctively tightening your grip on the box, still sitting on the shelf, you turned to the man next to you. “What are you doing?” you asked him, tight smile on your face. All you wanted was to buy your cereal and go home, but it seemed like it was going to take a little longer than you originally thought.

“This is my favorite cereal,” he answered with a shrug, pulling the box closer to him.

“Honey Bunches of Oats is your favorite cereal?” Your eyes narrowed to slits as you stared at him in disbelief. There was no way he came here to buy your cereal.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, as if you were an idiot for not understanding. “And I ran out, so…”

“This is my box though,” you argued, attempting to tug the box closer to you. You didn’t move it far, the man’s grip tighter on the box than you thought. With one glance at his arm, you realized just why he was more in control of the box than you were. He obviously worked out a lot and was in great shape.

“But I wanted this one,” he said simply.

“There are other stores you could go to, ya know.” You refused to back down from this argument. You were going to buy this cereal and go home and make the most out of what was left of the night.

“Then why don’t you go to one?” The smirk on his face that accompanied his remark had your mind reeling. The two of you stared at each other for a while, neither wavering, until you came up with a solution.

“Thumb wrestling!” you nearly shouted, ignoring the look of confusion on the stranger’s face. “We’ll thumb wrestle for it.”

“Are you a child?” he argued, laughing at you.

“Do you want to leave this store any time soon?”

“You seriously want to thumb wrestle for this box of cereal?” It was obvious he didn’t believe you, didn’t think you would take this as seriously as you were.

“Yes, I do,” you replied, cocking an eyebrow at him. “So what’ll it be?”

With a sigh, the stranger nodded and put his basket down next to him before holding his hand out to you. You smiled at him, reaching out your own hand.

“Just so you know,” you began, concentrating on the movements of your thumb against his as the two of you began. “I’m a thumb wrestling champion.”

“Come on, there’s no - hey!” he yelled as you trapped his thumb underneath yours.

“Do you play by the three second or five second rule? Because either way,” you said as he desperately tried to escape your grip. “At this point, you lost.”

The stranger grumbled as he released your hand and his grip on the box of cereal. “How did you do that so quickly?”

“I told you, I’m a champ,” you said simply, turning on your heel and leaving the stranger alone in the cereal aisle, your prize in your hand.

For some reason, you always got sick way more easily than anyone else you knew. You blamed it on the fact that you had a delicate immune system, but your friends all say it’s because you stress too much. Either way, you found yourself huddled up in a blanket on your couch, crumpled up tissues surrounding you, a half empty bottle of cough syrup on the coffee table in front of you.

You hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch for hours. You didn’t plan to, either, except for the fact that all you wanted at the moment was some soup. Of course, your house was not stocked well enough for your current illness, a fact that you verified with one simple glance in your pantry.

With a sigh, you slid on the closest shoes you could find before shuffling out of your front door. All you needed was one can of soup, maybe some more tissues. It shouldn’t take too long to get those supplies, and then you could collapse right back on your couch and ride out the rest of your cold.

Thankfully, the grocery store nearest your apartment wasn’t too busy, just some families grabbing last minute ingredients for dinner. You grabbed one box of tissues before winding your way through the aisles to the soup. One hand was on the last can of chicken with stars, your favorite, when a stuffy voice interrupted you.

“Oh come on,” the voice huffed.

Turning on your heel, you saw the same stranger from weeks before. Tonight, however, his nose was red, his hair in an incredibly messy bun, and he had one tissue balled up in his hand.

“You can’t be here for this soup,” you said, unable to believe this was happening to you again.

“That’s my favorite soup,” he whined, inching closer to you.

“It’s my favorite soup,” you replied, tucking the can close to your chest. “And I’m sick.”

“I’m sick, too.” He held up the crumpled tissue in his hand as proof.

“Fine, we can thumb wrestle for it,” you shrugged, placing your goods down at your feet.

“No, we can’t. You’ll get my germs.”

For a second, you paused, feeling touched he was seemingly concerned that you would get his germs and not the other way around. But you were intent on getting this soup and getting back home. Your couch was calling to you, after all.

“I’ll be fine, come on,” you urged, holding your hand out.

“This is dumb,” he grumbled, holding his hand out nonetheless. Within seconds, his thumb entrapped yours and he held it there, triumphant smile on his face. “What happened to being thumb wrestling champ?” he asked, letting your hand go.

“I’m sick,” you whined, pouting up at him.

“I’ll just take my soup and go, now, please,” he smiled, holding his hand out towards you.

“If I die without my soup, I want you to know it’s all your fault.” You shoved the can of soup into his chest before grabbing the first random can of soup you saw on the shelf.

“For what it’s worth, I hope you don’t die!” he called after you as you stalked away from him.

You didn’t answer him, just threw your free hand over your shoulder and kept walking, scowl on your face.

Work was insufferable for you, your boss never gave you even a second to catch your breath. He was on your back constantly, and you were exhausted after dealing with him. All you wanted to do was go home, take a shower, and make too much pasta for one person to consume in one sitting. You had the next day off, so you figured you could make all that pasta, binge some Netflix, and have more pasta as a late night snack.

Until, that is, you were in the pasta aisle at the grocery store and saw the same mystery stranger from the cereal and souple debacle holding the last box of penne pasta.

“I don’t have the energy to thumb wrestle you for that,” you sighed, stepping up next to him.

He jumped a little, startled at the intrusion, before smiling at you. “We meet again.”

“I’ll pay you for the pasta, just please, let me get it so I can go home and relax.” You completely skipped the pleasantries, propping your hand on your hip.

“You know, all these times we’ve run into each other and I still haven’t introduced myself. I’m Elias.”

“Oh, well, um. It’s nice to formally meet you, I guess,” you replied, telling him your name as well.

“And since you don’t have the energy to thumb wrestle me for this pasta, why don’t you let me get it? You go home, get out of that work uniform, and come over to my place. Let me make you dinner.” Elias’s offer hung in the air between the two of you, your mouth open in shock.

“I - no, I can’t let you do that,” you insisted, taking a step back.

“It’s the least I can do, especially since I left you sick and without your favorite soup last month. And anyway, we keep finding ourselves in this position. Don’t you think it’s fate?” Elias asked, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Do you really think this is fate?”

“I think it’s worth exploring,” he answered easily, holding his phone out to you. You took it from his hands gingerly, programming your number in before handing it back to him. After a moment, your phone vibrated in your pocket. “I just sent you my address. I’ll see you in an hour, okay?”

“Fate, huh?” you asked, walking to the end of the aisle with him.

“That or Cupid has been hard at work for the past couple of months,” Elias said with a wink before turning to the checkout lanes. “See you soon!”

“I just want you to know that this better put an end to you always trying to get the last item I want in the store,” you warned when Elias opened his door.

It had taken you a while to even decide if you would show up at his apartment. But he did offer you free food, and he seemed sincere. So here you were, in front of his door, casually dressed.

“I’ll try my best,” he assured you, ushering you into his apartment. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

You just nodded at him as you took in his living room. It was clean and organized without looking too sterile. There were books stacked on the coffee table and a guitar in the far corner in a stand.

“You play?” you asked, walking towards the guitar.

“I can show you after dinner?” Elias offered, standing in the entryway, hands in his pockets. His hair was in the bun you were used to seeing him in, a floral kimono on over a plain white tee shirt.

“As long as you’re not awful at it,” you joked, smiling at him.

“I’ve been told I’m not too bad. I’ve got a few fans,” he told you, returning your smile.

“So, what, you’re a musician?”

Elias opened his mouth to respond when a timer went off in the distance. “Come on, that’s the kitchen timer. I’ll tell you over dinner.”

“Just so you’re aware,” you began, trailing after Elias. “I decided to duck out of my original plans to be here.” You took a seat where he pointed, settling into your chair. “I’m sure my Netflix account will miss me.”

“You can just let it know you had better company tonight,” Elias winked, placing a plate of pasta coated in tomato sauce in front of you. Another plate of garlic bread was placed in the middle of the table as Elias sat across from you.

“The company of a mysterious stranger who was dedicated to taking the last of every item I needed,” you laughed, eyes focused on the man across from you.

“It didn’t turn out too bad,” he replied, smile on his face as he watched you settle in and get comfortable.

“Not too bad at all.”

Hours later, dinner was over and the two of you had gone to Elias’ living room and settled onto his couch. You two had talked all through dinner, getting to know one another and you were amazed at how comfortable you were around him, how nice he really seemed. He grabbed his guitar and was showing off to you as promised, playing melodies you recognized and some you didn’t. You couldn’t help but become enthralled by his presence, how at ease he looked with his guitar in his hand, focusing on the strings. Before you knew it, it was midnight and the two of you were still chatting over the light background noise of his guitar playing.

“Oh, I have to go,” you sighed, reluctantly standing up from your spot on his couch. You weren’t sure you really wanted to leave, not with how relaxed you felt around Elias, but you knew you definitely needed to get some sleep.

“Thanks for coming over,” Elias said, walking you to the door.

You blushed before answering, stopping just in front of his door. “Thanks for feeding me.”

“Any time.” His voice was serious but his eyes were soft, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I’m serious. I’ll let you know when I get back in town this week and we can hang out, okay?”

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed, turning back to the door and moving to stand in his hallway. Before you could stop yourself, you were on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. And then you were gone, leaving Elias with a stunned smile on his face. You couldn’t wait until the next time the two of you could get together. Not if it was going to be anything like this.

[kiruuuuu]

Bandit/Jäger oneshot in which Bandit writes a letter. (Rating T, hurt/comfort?, ~2.2k words) - written for @nutbrain​ because you’re entirely too nice and I will not stand for this in my house (that said, ily 💞💞). This turned out a bit more bleak than intended, so I’d like to apologise, but after you said you also like this ship, it basically wrote itself. (The next one will be pure fluff, promise!!)

.

Dear

Hey

Dude

Marius,

when you read this, I’ll be gone already.

I know it’s fucking cliché and I don’t really wanna drop it all into your lap like this, but you know I’m fucking bad with words. With everything really. Like this, I’m at least forced to put my thoughts together so I’ve got something to write down instead of just hearing all the wrong things come out of my mouth as if it wasn’t in my power to make it stop, like smoke after sucking on a cigarette. I can’t talk to you face to face, so I’m writing you a fucking letter because I guess that’s the kinda thing people used to do. My handwriting is probably bad but at least not as atrocious as your chicken scrawl. I’ll try to make it legible. I do want you to read this.

At some point, I heard someone say that ‘I’ is the word we say the most each day which makes sense to me as I’m the only person who has to put up with me 24/7, but I don’t want to resort to talking about myself for the entirety of this letter, so I’ll start with something you did. The reason why you’re holding this stupid piece of paper in your hands right now. The reason why I won’t be around anymore when you read this.

You probably don’t even remember. It was a week ago, maybe two, and I was having a bad time which usually means I find behaviour justifiable which makes sure everyone else has a bad time too (yes, I’m aware I do that even if it might not seem that way), and you must’ve noticed. We talked about the modifications on Morowa’s shield a few days before that, you knew I wouldn’t have destroyed the prototype if I’d been in my right mind. And still, you came over and struck up a conversation. As if nothing had happened. As if I wasn’t glaring at you.

Do you remember? I can never tell which parts fly right over your head and which ones burrow deep enough so you’ll never forget them. You remember the most random shit, like the things I said to you the day we met which I immediately forgot as soon as they’d left my mouth – though I have to admit it’s not too surprising the cocky asshole remained as a memory for you but the lanky dude who laughed at half the things I said didn’t for me. I can’t recall ever seeing you in the GSG9 which is probably for the best.

You don’t care. You never care whenever I throw a tantrum, you just shrug, the show must go on, and then you’re asking me about those fucking jumper cables or god knows what even if I’m in the middle of strangling someone. I’m not special to you. You brag at the worst moments and I’ve snapped at you for it countless times and felt bad for but the next time, you do it anyway and when I yell, you laugh like I’m telling a joke instead of being stressed or tired of it all or pissed. We fucking fought. We had an actual fist fight which you keep bringing up to others as if it was a funny anecdote to share with your family and not a point in my life where I genuinely wanted to hurt you.

And I think this is the moment where I have to spill the beans. I like

I have

I’m in

Look. I can’t bring myself to write it down because it’s pathetic. The whole fucking thing is and I am and you kinda are too which makes it so much worse. You have a goofy laugh and always embarrass yourself when you’re drunk, you eat at the most inappropriate moments and piss off so many people without realising, you’ve been calling Craig by the wrong name ever since he joined us. His first name is Craig, you idiot, not Jenson. You probably didn’t even think twice about all of us calling him something different because that would require a certain awareness which you just don’t possess.

Yes, I’m calling you blind. I’m not gonna list all the obvious signals but the fact that I kissed you after you ran into crossfire like a fucking lunatic could’ve tipped you off. I’m not bitter. I’m just saying. Or when I dragged you into the chopper in Syria and didn’t let go of your hand. Or all those fucking other times I would’ve bashed anyone else’s head in for less but you’re

Okay, I am bloody bitter. This is one way to tell someone you’re not interested, I suppose, but it’s among the worst ones.

Why I feel like this, I don’t even know. You’re a dumbass and the longer I watch you do something other than being brilliant at your work, the more I can feel my IQ dropping, but there’s something about the way you perceive the world and your own purpose in it

I’m making excuses. You always seemed surprised at how easily I stomach injustice towards me, insults, people screaming in my face, and there’s a simple trick: if you call yourself every name in the world, other people doing it doesn’t faze you anymore. I’ve heard it all and worse, much more personal and detailed in most cases, and if I stumble over one I’ve not heard before, I add it to my repertoire. I’m sorry to put it this crassly, but I often struggle to come up with justifications for my own existence. I crunch the numbers on whether the world wouldn’t be better off without me.

So when you come along and tell me a bunch of things I haven’t heard before, NICE things, it catches my attention, as you can imagine. I remember you being all excited when I put the pieces of clothing I stole from all over the base in Elias’ wardrobe, we watched the aftermath together and you called me brilliant and hilarious and witty. And these I wasn’t familiar with. So I mulled them over, and though I ultimately dismissed them, you sparked a need. What if I was brilliant? What if I was witty? I suddenly needed to prove to both of us that there was something which warranted your words. I wanted to earn them.

Not being able to recall our meeting before Rainbow turned out to be a blessing. Had I known from the start we met before, I probably would’ve tried to one-up myself, be extra unlikeable. But like this? You kept exaggerating all the dumb shit I did, calling it impressive and resourceful, and boasted as if it all had been your idea which annoyed me until I realised I kinda liked being part of this team, if I can even call it that. You were my hype man and for most of the time, I loved it. I was trying to become the person you pretended I was and even though it was frustrating as all hell when I didn’t manage it, I liked myself whenever I did. Genuinely liked myself.

.

Okay, I re-read everything I’ve written so far and it’s going nowhere. You’re probably asking yourself ‘what the fuck does he want from me’ if you’ve even come this far, and besides I ended up talking only about me despite wanting not to. I promise you this has a purpose even if it’s an entirely selfish one, namely just having the peace of mind of you finally knowing. I’d rather leave and never come back than say it to your face, so I’m writing it instead and since it’s you, I guess I have to spell it out regardless of how fucking obvious I’ve been.

I like you. I want to fuck you and kiss you and all that other shit, not necessarily in that order, and I know you want to do none of these things with me because the one time I worked up the courage to touch you outside of drunken groping and I really have never been drunk enough to fall asleep on someone’s shoulder four times in a row all you did was wipe your mouth and ask me what the fuck I was doing and I was so ashamed that I never did it again.

But it’s okay. You don’t have to feel the same way. I realised that last week (or maybe the week before) – you don’t care, and why would you? I’m not particularly likeable. I don’t treat you well and I know you’d argue with me on this but you can’t argue against a letter, so suck it. You claim I give you special treatment when all I try is to keep you at arm’s length. Because I know you’d say no. And that’s alright, only it’s not, it’s not at all alright because I blame myself for your lack of interest and the whole thing is really unhealthy to be honest even if I’m not unfamiliar with it.

It’s changed, though. I keep saying you don’t care and I know you’d contradict me on this too because it’s not really true. You do, in your own way. You laugh when I’m upset because you’re right, I get upset over the stupidest things which don’t really deserve my time at all, so you assume I’m being sarcastic instead of furious and it helps in changing my perspective. You don’t care when I’m in a bad mood and act like everything’s fine because usually, it’s a dumb fucking reason why I’m in a bad mood, so you’re right again, everything is actually fine and I just need someone to show me it’s not as big of a deal as I think it is.

When my dad died, you just sat next to me. You didn’t say anything, you didn’t laugh, you just offered your ear because you somehow must’ve realised it was serious that time. I didn’t take your offer. With this letter, you’re now the only person here I’ve voluntarily told that this is what happened, my dad died and you gave me an opportunity to open up. I didn’t take it. And I still regret not doing so.

You care a whole fucking lot. More than we both were aware, probably, and that’s part of the problem. Part of the reason why I have to leave.

Because the only other person I know who does all of this, who cares the same way you do, is my brother. I haven’t seen him in almost ten years. I never realised how much his mocking helped me stay level-headed and I don’t care that we’ve not seen each other for this long, I don’t care about all the guilt I still

Well, that’s where I am now. I’ll be gone for two weeks, trying to fix the unfixable because I owe him this much. And I owe you. You made me understand that he was always there for me, even if I wasn’t aware, always cared about me just like you do

Give me these two weeks. I’ll get over you it all. Don’t contact me, don’t call, don’t do anything, just keep being my friend you when I’m back, that’s all I ask. I won’t kiss bother you again, I promise, I just need this time to fix some of the mistakes I’ve made in my life and I want to thank you

I’m sorry

Fuck I understand now why people don’t write letters anymore. I guess what I’m trying to say is: I’ll be fine and nothing has to change. We can still go drinking and there are all those stupid films we gotta watch, and you wanted to give me a crash course in quantum physics anyway. We can do all this. I’d like to. But give me some space for now.

Take care, alright? Remember not to ask Monika about that bomb. I’ll see you soon.

Dom

.

P.S.: I bet for a second there you thought I was gonna off myself. You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon, bitch.

~*~

A soft rustling of paper, a sheet being set down on the fluffy cushions of a worn sofa. Fingertips fidget, rub over denim in directionless distress; distracted, disoriented. Thoughts almost tangibly fizz in the air around a brown shock of hair, the skin on the usually smooth forehead furrowed. Memories are being recalled, experiences sorted into boxes different from their previous abode, relived and subsequently reassessed.

A decision is made.

Legs unfold, a body rises with urgency, hurries towards its goal and grasps it firmly, navigates the screen with purpose and freezes with a digit hovering over grass green. A last minute contemplation and a determined nod.

It’s the correct thing to do, the action demanded by an insistently beating heart, the press of skin on glass jubilantly met by an increase in force and speed.

Breathing shallowly, he listens to the dial tone and wonders idly what to say once it disappears. It matters not. He’ll find the words.

[youkaiangel]

A Royal Affair Ch2 - Wizardess Heart OC Fic

Chapter 1: Will you be my plus one?

Chapter 2: You have to promise not to call me that

A/N: See chapter 1 for the main notes. Chapter 2 is where the drama starts.

***

Luca didn’t show up for class the next day, and while three months ago that wouldn’t have been uncharacteristic of Luca, these days he came to practically every class. Admittedly he spent most of class teasing and flirting with Elias, but he was at least still in attendance, most days.

For the second day in a row, Luca didn’t show up. Elias didn’t say anything about it during the morning classes and I noticed he was firmly planted in his seat in the dining hall during lunch, so I decided to go find Luca myself, to get some answers.

I found him at his usual haunt; the sunny bay window at the back of the archives. He had a book open in front of him, but he wasn’t reading it, instead simply staring out the window. He seemed lost in thought, he didn’t even notice me approaching.

‘Hey.’

Perhaps he wasn’t as deep in thought as I’d suspected, as he wasn’t surprised by my call. He turned to look at me, but he didn’t smile.

‘What’s up?’

‘You weren’t in class today?’

He shrugged. ‘Didn’t feel like it.’

I took a seat opposite him at the other end of the bay window, the midday sun streaming in and warming my back. ‘Did you talk to Elias about the invitation?’

He shook his head. ‘He didn’t want to talk about it.’

Luca’s dismissive tone meant he knew more than he was letting on though. I didn’t want to say too much, in case I was wrong and ruined things for he and Elias, but I needed to probe to find out what he knew. ‘Did you read the invitation?’

He scoffed with a sneer of a smile curling one corner of his lip. ‘Who do you take me for?’ he mocked, ‘Some snooping jealous lover?’

I smiled and nodded. ‘Pretty much.’

His smirk faltered. How many people still fall for his sarcasm and jokes, I wondered, and why does he still think I would?

He confessed, ‘yeah, I read it.’

I didn’t want to press him any further on his apparent shame in snooping through his boyfriend’s personal messages, so instead turned to the more interesting topic. ‘A Royal Gala, huh?’

Again, surprise glanced across his face. ‘You knew?’

‘Hiro and Zeus got one too.’

‘Oh.’

He fell silent, his gaze turning out the window.

The conversation was going nowhere fast. I probed a little further, ‘do you know why he doesn’t want to go?’

Luca rolled his eyes as he turned to look at me. ‘Because of me, of course,’ he said. ‘If it was a Goldstein event, it wouldn’t be a problem, because his family knows about us. But this is a public event, and he’s been invited as the King’s personal guest.’

The personal guest bit sounded familiar and I remembered that it was on Hiro’s invitation too. ‘Maybe everyone was invited as the King’s personal guest?’ I suggested. ‘It was on Hiro’s invitation too.’

‘Mm… maybe,’ he murmured. ‘Are you going?’

‘I’ve been invited as a plus one.’

I didn’t mean to sound smug when I said it, knowing that Luca’s attendance at the event hinged on being extended the same courtesy, and in all fairness Luca had more of a right to go than I, since he’d been dating Elias for three months now, and I’d only been with Hiro four weeks, but the instant I said it, it felt as though I was rubbing salt in his wounds. Luca’s disgruntled hpmh indicated he felt the salt too, and he muttered, ‘lucky you.’

I gave a loud sigh. Luca had been one of my first friends at the academy, and he should’ve known better than to think I would intentionally want to upset him. He was just being petty. ‘You should talk to him,’ I advised. ‘Ask him why he doesn’t want to go.’

‘He’ll just give me some bullshit excuse,’ he argued. ‘God, how pathetic. I’m taking relationship advice from you.’

‘Hey!’ I cried, trying to sound disproportionately offended. ‘I’ve taken plenty of advice from you, and you have about as much experience as I do in serious relationships!’

He didn’t get the joke, and mumbled a flippant, ‘yeah whatever.’

He was done with the conversation, and therefore so was I, so I stood up and tried to change the topic. ‘Are you coming to class this afternoon?’

‘Nah.’

His disinterest was frightening. I’d wanted Luca and Elias to admit their feelings for each other and start a relationship more than anyone, but if it ended because of something as petty as this, and they both ended up more hurt than happy, I would never forgive myself. I needed to help fix this.

‘Elias is pretty stressed you know,’ I said. ‘Maybe just reassure him that you can handle this, that you won’t embarrass him.’

‘Whe—’ Luca started, but cut himself off mid argument. ‘Mm.’ I didn’t need to mention any one of the dozens of times he had embarrassed his boyfriend, both before and during their relationship, and I was a little proud that he acknowledged that himself. I glanced at the book in his lap and noticed a picture on the left page of a man and woman in formal wear, bowing and curtsying to each other. I slipped the book out from under his nose and checked the title on the front cover: Principles of Court Etiquette.

‘See!’ I teased, brandishing the book at him. ‘You’re already making improvements!’

He snatched the book back before quickly throwing it at my head, shouting as I ran from his attacks and the room, ‘Shut up!’

***

He knocked on the door, but then hesitated with his hand on the door knob, wondering if he was currently on speaking terms with his boyfriend. Before he could figure it out though, he heard Yukiya’s call from inside the room to come in, so he turned the handle and slipped inside the dorm, shutting the door gently behind him.

Elias was sitting on his bed, legs crossed and an open book over his lap, engrossed in his reading. Yukiya similarly was sitting on the bed with his knees drawn up and book on his knees, Seth curled up at the foot of the bed.

‘Hey guys.’

Elias looked up with an interested hm, while Yukiya glanced up and then returned his attention quickly to his book while murmuring a cool, ‘hey Luca.’

‘Hey Yukiya,’ Luca said with an attempted smile. Yukiya didn’t engage with him any further, so he turned to the golden-haired boy and acknowledged, ‘Prince.’

Elias glanced up from his book momentarily before looking down again with a displeased frown, and questioned, ‘Why weren’t you in class today?’

Immediately, the skin on Luca’s forearms pricked up and he felt himself draw inwards as his eyes narrowed and his smile dropped. He hated when the prodigy-student questioned his absences from class, and hated his guilty conscience even more. He resorted to his usual apathetic, ‘didn’t feel like it.’

Elias cast his gaze briefly at Luca again and then let out a heavy sigh, his eyes falling away. Luca’s guilt took over, his defensive attitude dissolving. More than his guilty conscious, he hated seeing his Prince disappointed with him, and he needed to fix things fast. ‘Elias, can we talk?’

‘Huh?’ The Prince was a taken aback by the swift change in attitude. He looked at Luca again and noticed the change in his posture, so decided to come to the table. ‘Uh… sure.’ He unfolded his legs, but before he could swing his legs off the bed, Yukiya’s feet were on the floor.

‘We’ll give you guys some space.’ Seth leapt down off the bed and followed Yukiya toward the door.

‘Yukiya, it’s okay,’ Elias said, but made no move to stop him. ‘We’ll go for a walk.’

‘It’s fine, I’ll hang out with Cerim.’

Luca stepped backward to let both Yukiya and Seth pass out of the room.

Elias looked at Luca.

And Luca stared back at Elias.

‘So?’ Elias probed. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

Luca huffed. He’d made up his mind to come talk to Elias in such a rush he hadn’t thought of what to say. Should I admit I know about the Gala? Should I pretend I don’t know? That just feels stupid, I need to be more honest with him. He took a deep breath then spurted out, ‘Why don’t you want me to go?’

Elias blinked, but otherwise didn’t react. ‘What are you talking about?’

God he’s so dense. Luca rolled his eyes. ‘The Gala. The invitation you got the other day. You haven’t even mentioned it, so obviously you don’t want me to go.’

The younger boy’s brow furrowed and he drew back an inch or so. ‘How did you…?’

Luca’s mind quickly ticked over, searching for an answer to the dangerous question. ‘Simone’s going,’ he answered, remembering his confidant was also a source of information on the topic. ‘Apparently Hiro and that idiot Zeus were invited.’

‘Ugh,’ Elias groaned. He stared down at the floor beside the bed as he answered, ‘I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.’ He glanced up at his boyfriend’s jade eyes, mumbling, ‘You know who’s hosting it.’

‘Yeah.’

Elias looked at Luca.

And Luca stared back at Elias.

‘Don’t you hate him?’ Elias asked. ‘Why would you want to go to a royal party?’

‘I don’t care who’s hosting it,’ Luca rebutted. ‘Did you think that I would care?’

Elias held Luca’s gaze for a moment, but his eyes soon dropped as he realised how poorly he had judged his boyfriend, ‘I don’t know.’ Regret overwhelmed him for making the decision to not invite Luca without even consulting him.

‘Look, if you don’t want me to go, then that’s all you have to say—’

‘L-Luca!’ Elias stammered, trying to stop the matter escalating. ‘It’s not like I don’t want you to go.’ It wasn’t exactly the truth though, and Luca wasn’t fooled.

‘But people will stare,’ Luca retorted, ‘and judge. Here’s Prince Elias Goldstein with some no-name lowlife.’

‘I’m not a Prince,’ Elias muttered for what felt like the millionth time.

‘Whatever. You’re a Goldstein. Lord Elias Goldstein, if that’s what you prefer. And who am I? To them, I’m nobody. That’s why you don’t want me to go, isn’t it?’

‘No, that’s not it.’ Elias was back-peddling fast, regret overwhelming him, and cursing himself for his selfish decision. ‘I honestly didn’t think you’d want to go,’ he mumbled, ‘and have to face… him.’

‘That’s for me to worry about, not you.’ Luca crossed his arms and leant back against the wall.

Elias swallowed deeply. He knew how Luca felt about the Royal Family, and all the reasons why. He shuddered at the thought of putting the boy he loved through something as painful as having to sit and smile for a whole night surrounded by pompous lords and ladies, and the King himself. But if Luca wanted to do it… ‘If you want to go…’ he murmured.

Luca relaxed his arms, trying to let go of his hostility. ‘I just want to know you’re not ashamed to be with me.’

A sharp pain shot through Elias’ chest. ‘You know I’m not.’

‘Some days I wonder, Prince.’

The nickname burned his ears, but the sneaky smile on Luca’s lips meant he wasn’t as foul about the whole ordeal as he’d originally thought, and it helped ease Elias’ tense mind, a little. ‘If you’re going to come, you have to promise not to call me that! The whole night!’

‘Pfft.’ A wicked grin cracked across Luca’s face, the smile that Elias both feared and delighted in. ‘Okay, deal,’ he said, and then stepped forward from the wall, crossing the room towards Elias on his bed. ‘But I’ll have to make up for not getting to call you that for a whole night.’

Elias leant back in his pillows, leaning away from the devilish prankster drawing closer. His mind scrambled for an excuse, a reason to stop Luca’s advances, but he came up short and before he could sputter out a word Luca had leant over from the side of the bed to press his lips firmly against Elias’. After just a moment he drew back, noses still brushing gingerly and whispered, ‘my Prince,’ before leaning in to claim his lips again.

***

It was about four in the morning by the time I made it back to my dorm, after a long day of classes (at least Caesar’s class this evening on dark curses was interesting) and a long night of Zeus whinging in the Night Café about not having a date for the King’s Fall Gala. It was vacation day tomorrow though, so that meant I’d get a sleep in. I tried my best not to disturb my roommate Mae as I changed into my pyjamas and crawled into bed.

The Gala was approaching fast, only another 10 days away, and I was happy that Elias had decided to invite Luca as well. It was building up to be a fantastic night. The only problem was Klaus.

Elias had confirmed that his brothers were also going, and I had no problems with Alfonse going, but Klaus was going to be an issue. I hadn’t spoken to him since the incident.

Miscarriage, I reminded myself. I was trying to adjust to the word, but it still felt shameful. Alfonse had tried to convince me it was nothing to be ashamed of, but I still didn’t want to talk about it. You haven’t told Hiro about it yet either, my conscience reminded me, but I pushed that problem down for another day. 

The memory of the warm summer afternoon plagued me, my first visit to the Goldstein manor, and one of the worst days of my life. I’d gone there specifically to tell Klaus that he was going to be a father, but I never got to tell him. Alfonse was the one to whisk me away after I collapsed, he helped me through it and once it was all over, I had run for it.

I still remembered Klaus stopping me by the front gate, interrogating me until I’d told him what I’d originally come for, and not a hint of remorse or sorrow was in his response. I still remembered the seething anger rising from the pit of my stomach, spewing from my mouth and tearing shreds off of him. I’d left him standing there, wishing him nothing but misery and guilt for his poor choice of words. For the best is not an appropriate response when a woman miscarries.

I still wished him nothing but misery and guilt, but some minute part of me wished I hadn’t been so aggressive, and a great deal of me was agonizing over having to face him again.

I let out a sigh and rolled over, forcing the memories to the back of my mind. I had another ten days to figure out an appropriate attitude towards my former casual lover, although that thought did not bring me any comfort.

Sleep did not come quickly that night.

***

Luca slipped through the misty morning air before anyone else was even close to awake, hurrying towards the academy, casting an occasional glance over his shoulder to confirm he wasn’t being followed.

For years he had been plagued about his family’s history, his origins and lineage. Two years ago he’d found the answers he’d been searching for, but it wasn’t enough. Now, he was finally getting an opportunity to face the man who had destroyed his childhood. Luca was ready to confront the man, but to make sure it would be a success he was going get help.

He made his was through the castle halls to the familiar office door and knocked. He had to wait a few moments, but eventually the door opened.

‘Luca? What are you doing here? Why are you up so early?’

‘I need to call in a favour, Professor.’

***

Chapter 3: You’ll have fun if you relax

[javi150190]

Fanfic: The Robin in the Eagle’s Nest

(Final Haikyuu Quest-Ancient Magus Bride Cross Over) 

Summary: Once upon a time, a baby robin grew surrounded by voices only she could hear, much to the disgust of other birds, who saw her with disdain and left her unhappy with life. One day, flames appeared before her, but before she thought she could finally die, they showed her the way back to a home she had forgotten, where now a white eagle had built his nest and now needed the fire to see, otherwise the dark would eat away his own house.

Notes: 

Good afternoon-or evening depending on your time zone-. This isn’t my first time writing fanfic. You can find some of my older works here. This is, however, my first shot at a crossover and my first attempt to use both the Haikyuu and TAMB franchises.

Now, I had thought of doing this for a looooooong time, but this turned into a brainstorming nightmare due to the problem of merging a sports/slice of life setting with a fantasy heavy setting, Eventually I decided to use the Final Haikyuu Quest scenario, as it allowed me to get away with some of the more fantasy heavy aspects of Chise’s backstory and gave me an excuse of including Celtic folklore into the fic.

Also, before I started writing this, I read several fics and doujins that used the FHQ setting and it seemed that neither Wakatoshi nor the rest of the Shiratorizawa gang have fixed roles in the setting. Some have them as army officers, some have Wakatoshi as a paladin, there’s even Smough!Ushiwaka (no really), so I just went with royalty, because I think it fits him not only as a character but also as a foil to the demon king Oikawa.

Also, I was not the first to notice that Wakatoshi shares voice actors with bone daddy Elias, although I am 99% sure that I’m the only person that ships him with Chise, since essentially Elias is a derpier (yes, really) Ushijima with an even worse understanding of social conventions, and let’s be honest, a relationship between 18 year old Wakatoshi and 15-16 year old Chise is 100 times easier to sell than in the case of 100 years old (at least), bought a girl from an auction and told her he wanted her as a bride in the same day he purchased her and forcibly undressed her-Elias (-_-).

As for the fanfic, this is essentially a prologue. The rest of the fic will be told mostly from Chise’s perspective.

Prologue: Right under our noses

He wasn’t sure when he first started to notice that he wasn’t alone anymore in the stone hallway anymore.

Wakatoshi had spent a good couple of hours -Was it three, four, the entire night?- trying to process his thoughts following the events of that evening. He -they- had anticipated this event for months, prepared to be as secretive as possible, planning ahead in case the news broke out before he wanted and making sure that generals and advisers he was most suspicious of were as far away as possible from the old stone castle he had chosen as a hideout.

An event such as this couldn’t take place in the imperial palace, too many ears in that place made the walls feel like paper.

On the other hand, this place, made of old stone and almost forgotten in a warm corner of the Shiratorizawa empire, was the last place anyone could expect to see the Emperor, much less so in semi-regular clothes and sat in the floor, leaning against the wall and intensely looking at the ceiling.

“My, my, I never thought I would see you this stressed out, Ushiwaka-chan”

Wakatoshi didn’t have to speculate much about who could have found him. If the musical pitch of that voice wasn’t enough, the infantile nickname would be.

Turning his head towards the end of the hallway, he saw him.

Smiling at him with a grin that reflected so many things Wakatoshi disliked of him -baseless confidence, joy at the expense of other’s disgrace, shameless mockery at those he felt below him- was the demon king of Aoba Johsai.

“Maybe I’m having a fever dream and you just are a peasant,” the horned imp mocked while making dramatic arms gestures, which only cause Wakatoshi’s frown to deepen.

At that moment, the Shiratorizawa emperor was also berating himself for not taking the demon king into account when he planned his hiding place.

“Well it would be useless to lament now,” he corrected himself mentally. Taking a deep breath, he rose from the cold stone floor, ignoring the slight protest from his muscles as they had grown stiff following hours crouched against the wall.

“What are you doing here Oikawa?”, he growled lowly as he made his way towards the grinning demon. “I thought you would be glad that I haven’t tried to convince you to join my court for a while,” he added as he was face to face with the imp.

Oikawa, still keeping his joyful grin, merely nodded like a child about to receive a treat. “And I’m so thankful for that! You have no idea how peaceful it is not having to deal with your obnoxious invitations!” he all but shouted while widely opening his harms.

Wakatoshi’s frown deepened even further when he received the childish response. He was about to counter Oikawa when, like a flash, the Demon King’s grin changed from childish mockery to sharp venom, making Wakatoshi’s jaw tighten as he recognized the challenge in the imp’s face.

“But let’s just say that even I found that a bit suspicious, Ushiwaka-chan” he whispered, his voice now carrying a hint of challenge towards the emperor.

Oikawa seemed satisfied in the level of alert and uneasiness in Wakatoshi’s face, even if he knew that he wasn’t the main cause of it.

Feeling emboldened, the demon king took a step forward, lightly pushing Wakatoshi to the side.

“It was very welcome at first, as I was dealing with Shrimpy, Iwa-Chan and the other parade of idiots. You actually made dealing with them easier, so thanks!” he said, hoping to irritate the emperor.

“I must admit though, they are like cockroaches” he added with a false sigh.

“But then I started listening whispers, gossipers around my castle speaking of castle intrigue in the halls of power, of an emperor pressured by the old guard that wanted to force his hand,” he continued.

“There’s nothing new about that,” Wakatoshi cut in sharply, starting to lose patience with Oikawa’s theatrics.

“I’m not ashamed to admit that I want to reign without the baggage of elderly advisors” he added, his voice now echoing slightly in the stone halls.

“How rude Ushiwaka-chan”, Oikawa pouted like a child. “Haven’t your elders told you that it is rude to interrupt somebody before they finished talking?” he teased as if he were a mother nagging her son.

“There were also other rumors, not spoken at the town market by women anxious to share that little bit of knowledge without fearing sermons from the priests or angry gazes from possessive husbands, instead it traveled through the forest. Isolated from human ears, and even the incidental hunter that passed through wouldn’t be able to hear it, even if it were right at his side. Do you know why that would be, Ushiwaka-chan?” the demon king said with a teasing grin.

“Because it wasn’t spoken by human beings” the emperor thought with a shiver running down his back “I thought the fae preferred to avoid you,” he said, his voice now carrying both a deep note of frustration and a lingering sense of caution.

Oikawa just nodded while crossing his arms over his chest. “Indeed, they don’t like having me around and they normally keep themselves out of my castle, but I have to tell you, those critters sure are loud when they gossip!” he cackled while jokingly picking his ear with his pinkie.

“I must admit I first ignored them when they started wailing about a robin,” he paused of a second, enjoying how the Shiratorizawa emperor visibly tensed at the last world, yet not enough to break the stoic frown that Oikawa hated so much.

“They said that their robin was prisoner to a dangerous rat, and that it was going to be fed to hungry pigs. Admittedly back then I didn’t care, but then they said that a big scary eagle had found the rat”

Wakatoshi didn’t budge at the teasing narration, his mind going instead to that eventful evening, a year and a half ago.

His eldest advisors had advised him not to attend that audience, arguing that the emperor shouldn’t concern himself with such scum. But he was determined to make an example out of this incident.

In the two years since he inherited the crown from his now retired grandmother, he had quickly learned that administrating an empire required both pleasing the stubborn nobility and constantly reminding them that he had the power, the drive and the strategic capacity to sack them if needed without threatening his power base.

When it came to the second part, this incident was a gift from heaven for Wakatoshi, but even knowing that he couldn’t help but feel a rush of disgust at the facts presented before him.

Just a couple of nights before, a breathless lieutenant had arrived as the latest council meeting was finishing. At first, the eldest advisers scolded poor Tsutomu for barging in without even knocking the door, but Wakatoshi had knew the eager officer for long enough to know that he wouldn’t do such a protocol breach without reason and, most importantly, he knew that the lieutenant was currently stationed outside the capital, so that could only mean one thing, whatever news he had were highly urgent.

And he was right. The letter, carrying the seal of his old friend and current spymaster Tendou Satori, was brief but to the point.

Wakatoshi:

I’ll skip the formalities. I just caught a slave dealer who claims that he’s working with a general.

You really need to see this in person.

Satori

Tsutomu added that an arrest had been made in the border. A man had been caught trying to pass through a guarded gate as fast as possible, going as far as knocking the guards down using magic. Unfortunately for the impulsive traveler, the knocked down guards were discovered by the imperial spymaster, who just happened to be there collecting information alongside one of the court sorcerers regarding rumors of suspicious magic activity. Despite not being a sorcerer himself, it only took Satori an evening to catch the slave dealer.

Wakatoshi, now with Tsutomu and one of his court’s sorcerers Shirabu Kenjirou in tow, rode to a separate guard post to meet up with Satori. But before that, he also made sure of sending a separate letter to the general that was mentioned by Tsutomu (in private, as Satori wisely decided not to disclose that information in his letter in case it was intercepted before Wakatoshi could see it).

The Emperor only told the general that he wanted to see him in person and demand an explanation regarding how a slave dealer was running around under his nose. Wakatoshi knew that issuing an arrest order against the elder official would only result in an expensive manhunt and putting other military heads in alert.

The arrived at a provincial post near the edge of one of the border provinces. Still within the area in which the incident had occurred, yet far enough from the main road to difficult any escape attempt once Wakatoshi had the accused general in his presence.

The emperor made quick way to the center of the garrison, where Tendou and his investigation partner Semi Eita seemed to be waiting for him.

It was close to midnight, yet the guards appeared ready at arms, in case the prisoner attempted a similar trick to make them sleep, although Semi had already taken care of that possibility by confiscating any magic craft material the slave dealer carried, going as far as to gag him and blindfold him in addition to the iron shackles.

“Has the general arrived yet?” Wakatoshi asked as he approached the two.

“No ´hello´ or ´good work´? You are getting colder by the second, Wakatoshi,” the spymaster replied feigning hurt but keeping his teasing smile.

“I planned to say that after we’re done with this,” the emperor countered bluntly. “Where’s the general?” he repeated.

“The old creep is making his way here, according to my spies in the area. It seems that your invitation has left him quite shaken” Satori added. He was about to add something when Semi, seemingly irritated by the long wait, cut in.

“We also intercepted some of his communications. We already have the evidence to link him to the trafficker and some of the soldiers we gathered info from said that the general has been rather impatient during the last couple of days,” he said.

“Gathered info from? That’s an odd way to phrase ´threatened with incineration on the spot if they didn’t talk´ Semi-Semi,” Tendou teased.

That last part made Wakatoshi’s eyebrows rise in slight surprise. It also granted a loud gasp from Goshiki and an exasperated sigh from Shirabu.

“Is that true Eita?” the emperor asked calmly.

Semi only took a deep breath. Tendou’s teasing accusation left him a bit shaken, but soon he put himself back together.

“Wakatoshi” he started “if you had seen what we found, you would be as harsh as we have been” he said looking the emperor in the eye.

Wakatoshi knew that Eita was more akin to following protocol when talking to him in the open, so the fact that he was calling him without using his royal title at a border military post rose a slight alarm within the emperor.

“How bad are the slaves?” Kenjirou cut in.

“There’s only one slave” Tendou intervened in a flat tone.

“That bad?” the younger sorcerer replied

“We’ll explain later, it seems the guest of honor has arrived” Semi said, Wakatoshi turned around to see the general arriving hastily to the garrison gate, passing through with such a hurry that he was still taking off his helmet when he was approaching the emperor’s traveling party.

Slightly breathless -Wakatoshi guessed if it was because of his advanced age and the fear of being discovered- general Kota Hideaki made his way to the sovereign.

“Your majesty,” Kota stated while bowing slightly. “I’m really sorry that you have to bother yourself with this lowly scum,” he added while still bowed, his voice betraying his insecurity.

Wakatoshi could only narrow his eyes at the elder officer. Slavery had been banned from the empire ever since his family took the throne many generations ago. Its abolition had been a staple of his lineage, a fact always highlighted in history books as one of the empire’s brightest moments.

However, that didn’t stop some unscrupulous snakes from incurring into the business of human trafficking, whether be to obtain forced labor, satisfy some unspeakable lust or gather ingredients for some occult ritual.

For that same reason, Wakatoshi and his predecessors took it as a personal offense against them. An act against his crown’s most notorious achievement.

But no matter how furious he was right now, law was the law. The execution would have to wait until both the slave dealer and his customer were before the court.

“I wouldn’t have to be here if you had followed your duty,” he all but growled, trying not to let out his fury.

Kota tensed when he heard the emperor stern voice, and then he finally rose to meet Wakatoshi’s steely gaze.

“May I ask why there is a slave dealer running around the province? I already sent word to the governor and he’s quite displeased, and I’m even more so,” Wakatoshi stated. The general attempted to cut in, but it turned out that the monarch was just getting started.

“Specially because you’re his partner,” Wakatoshi cut to the chase. He wasn’t interested in stretching out this matter, although he got some satisfaction when he saw the general visibly tremble at his accusation.

“Yo-your majest-ty, I-I do-don’t understa-“, the officer’s voice trembled as he tried to answer back. The emperor’s stare hardened even further.

“Don’t waste my time with your lies” he countered coldly. He then gestured to Tendou, who revealed a folded piece of paper from his robes.

The spymaster jokingly cleared his throat before he started talking.

“M.I

As you can notice, there are two payments before you. The first is yours, as a reward from the council for your services,” Tendou then gave a small pause and gave a glance to the emperor, whose eyes had widened slightly.

“Council?” Goshiki gasped.

“So apparently we just uncovered an entire rat nest” Shirabu added.

Wakatoshi then looked at Eita, who seemed more tense than normal.

“The second is a payment is for the subject’s caretakers,” Tendo continued, although everyone had noticed that he had suppressed his normal teasing pitch, now speaking with a flat, slightly saddened tone.

“Our sources indicated that they are tired of it and would seem to be eager to get rid of it”

Wakatoshi didn’t let the general see it, but his breath had completely caught in his throat. This wasn’t the first time that he was part of an interrogation involving slave dealing, but he had yet to come across such a grisly scenario.

Tendou gave a side glance to the emperor, the corner of his mouth curving upward slightly, almost as if he were amused at the sight of the distressed monarch.

“It seems that we are going to arrest way more people than we originally planned,” Shirabu said.

“However, if the locals refuse, then you are authorized to make use of force. I will take care of the official reports. Although if you do silence them, please inform me of the method of disposal, so I can know if to rule it as banditry or a monster attack. I will leave the details of the ordered ritual to you and your partners”

“Ritual?!”, Shirabu exclaimed, turning his attention to Semi “Is this about the magic activity you were investigating?” he asked his fellow court sorcerer, who only nodded slowly.

“Once you are done there” Tendou carried on, “make your way to the garrison indicated in the map. As you can see, there’s a gate in the way, but it is lightly guarded. Your magic should take care of it, but do it quickly”

“I bet you didn’t count on Tendou-san and Semi-san to be there, you scum!,” Goshiki spat at the general, unable to contain his anger any longer. Wakatoshi rose a hand between the lieutenant and the accused. Tsutomu understood the emperor’s que and took a deep breath to regain his composure.

Wakatoshi then gave a nod to Tendou, asking him to continue.

“Once you make it here, you will receive a second payment. Then I will take care of transferring the subject to the capital for the auction.

Remember that we have a very tight schedule. If you don’t make it by the tenth midnight after this letter is given to you, then the council will track you down to retrieve the subject themselves. Punishment will be severe.

Good luck with your journey

K.H”.

Once finished, Tendou placed the paper back in his robes and looked teasingly at the general, who was shaking and clearly red with fury.

“YOU INSOLENT RAT. THERE’S NOTHING IN THAT PIECE OF PAPER THAT COULD PROVE THAT I’M INVOLVED. A PAIR OF INITIALS PROVES NOTHING!!!”, the elder official had started howling at this point, slightly startling the emperor and the other officials. Tendou only giggled gleefully, which made the general clinch his hands, as if he were readying himself to strangle the spymaster.

Kota only managed to take one step towards Tendou however, when Semi placed himself between them, his glare shooting daggers at the general.

“Do you believe that we would have summoned the emperor if we didn’t have more proof than that?”, he cut in. Wakatoshi then realized that Eita was gripping his staff -cleverly disguised as a short walking baton- and almost seemed ready to snap at the official.

Just what was done to the captive that made him so mad? This wasn’t Semi’s first time apprehending slave dealers, after all.

“Semi” Wakatoshi call was also a warning. He didn’t want to cause a bigger scene, despite the gravity of the crime.

The court sorcerer took a couple of seconds to stabilize himself. Once he slightly clamed down, he turned his back to Kota, clearly not wanting to spend any other second looking at his eyes.

“We also intercepted your communications, and I interrogated the dealer and the soldiers under your command. Personally,” he said, putting clear emphasis in the last word.

“Isn’t hypnosis forbidden in interrogations?” Tsutomu whispered to Shirabu, who only nodded in response.

Semi seemed to have heard this, though. “It turns out you not only are a criminal, but also a weak general. Your soldiers are weak willed. I only had to point my staff at them and they started to sing like birds”, he added while clenching his jaw.

“It was really funny, though” Tendou giggled.

The court sorcerer only spared a side glance to his partner before turning back to face Kota, who was visibly pale by now.

“When I showed them the portrait of the slave dealer, they all said that they saw you with him before the gate incident. I didn’t even tell them what we were looking for. They also said that you gave him two bags of coins,” he continued.

Kota was about to answer when Tendou cut in.

“We also spoke with the neighbors, they said that the same wagon that we stopped was seen at your command post,” he said with joy.

“Tha-t-that doesn’t-“ Kota couldn’t finish, as all of a sudden the sound of coins hitting the ground was heard. Looking down, he saw an opened sack of coins at his feet.

“This isn’t one of the bags that you gave to the dealer. Last night we intercepted another messenger,” he then retrieved an envelope from his sleeve. Wakatoshi could only watch as the general seemed to become petrified as he recognized the seal.

“General

The council would want to solicit extra safety for one of our traders” Semi said bluntly.

“Now I don’t see any other general around here” Tendo chimed in “Also I forgot, this is the envelope the letter I just read came in”, he added waving a similar slip of paper. “The rat had actually burned it as soon as we busted into his wagon but leave it to our Semi to put ashes and burnt wax back together”, he added while playfully elbowing Eita.

Both Semi and Tendou passed the envelopes to Wakatoshi. He appreciated the blood red seal in both. A Two Headed dragon with one head spitting fire and the other holding a human body in its jaws, a symbol clearly meant to intimidate.

The emperor had never seen such design, but it was clear that both envelopes shared the same stamp.

“Goshiki” he signaled.

The young lieutenant made his way to Kota, who seemed frozen. However, once Tsutomu grabbed his wrist the old man seemingly came back to life, attempting to release his arm. It only took one sharp kick from Tendou to the back of the general’s knee to stop him from struggling further.

“General Kota Hideaki” Wakatoshi addressed the disgraced military officer as Tsutomu handcuffed him.

“You are under arrest for aiding slave dealing activities, benefiting from slave dealing practices, associating with slave traffickers and conspiring to falsify public records. You are now removed from your post and barred from ever associating with any official, civil or martial, within the borders of the Shiratorizawa empire”, he stated in an ominous tone. “Anything to say in your defense?”

“Psst,” Tendou playfully whispered at the now handcuffed Kouta. “If you want to keep your head, I would start talking about that council right now,” he added with a devilish smile.

The now-former official looked at the emperor’s face, trembling more than ever now when confronted with the furious gaze, reminiscent of an eagle glaring down a helpless rabbit.

“I-I’m just. I don do-don’t” he started babbling, looking around and only finding more angered glares being shot at him. Even Tendou’s eyes held the promise of unspeakable pain behind his teasing smile.

“I—I w-was ju-just an-an inter-inter-int-intermediary. I’v-v-v-ve ne-ver seen them,” he managed to get out between hiccups.

“DO YOU EXPECT US TO BELIEVE THAT?!”, Semi had finally snapped, menacingly pointing his staff at the older man’s face. “THE PRISONER TOLD US THAT THIS ISN’T EVEN THE FIRST TIME YOU WORK FOR THIS COUNCIL!”

Wakatoshi’s eyes narrowed.

At the sound of the sorcerer’s shouts, the disgraced officer dropped to his knees and bowed.

“I NEVER SAW THEM, I SWEAR!” he began to cry out “I WOULD JUST DROP WHATEVER THEY NEEDED TO A STABLE NEAR A GARRISON IN THE CAPITAL AND THEN THE STUFF WOULD JUST DISSAPEAR!!”

Some of the members of the group gasped, Semi was one of them.

After taking a few deep breaths to stabilize himself, the court sorcerer crouched and grabbed Kota’s head, forcing him to look the very furious mage in the face.

“Disappear?” he hissed “What do you mean by that?”

Kota only managed to gulp before answering. “I would drop anything inside the stable, then some smoke would come out, and after a couple of seconds everything would be gone, no matter what big. Aside from that, I only spoke with some messengers and some traders.”

“A transportation spell” Shirabu stated. Wakatoshi nodded at the observation, but the emperor now had a few questions of his own.

“Kota” he took a step towards the detainee “How many times have you delivered people to them?”

The prisoner was visibly shaking at the steely gaze of the monarch, which now looked 10 times more intimidating since Kota was on his knees.

“I-I only this time. I-I swear. Most times it was monster parts or stuff for sorcery. I c-can’t remember a-all of them”

The emperor took a deep breath, now even more disturbed. Not only had he uncovered an attempt to sell a person like a piece of meat, but there was also a smuggling ring running around the empire, with at least one trading point at the capital. “There are probably way more”, he thought.

“For how long do you did this?” he asked.

“E-eight years”

The garrison fell silent.

Wakatoshi felt both enraged and embarrassed. It was his duty to prevent such things from happening, and here he had a military official, a general non the less, admitting that he had helped smuggle contraband material for nearly a decade under his and his grandmother’s nose. And there was now unmistakable evidence that pointed out to a wide network that could have easily operated for decades.

Despite having such power, Wakatoshi felt weak now, and he hated it.

He wondered how his grandmother would take the news. Tightening his fists and swallowing a barrage of insults that threatened to leave his mouth, he ordered Tsutomu to carry the prisoner away.

“Take him to the army’s main quarters in the capital. The martial court will dictate his final punishment, and tell the judges that he attempted to lie to my face” he added.

If Kota was pale as a ghost before, now he certainly looked like a bone, and only could drop his head down in defeat as the lieutenant carried him out of the courtyard.

“Good job, you two” he mentioned to Tendou and Semi.

“Finally! He said it!” the spymaster squeaked, much to the sorcerers’ annoyance.

“Your majesty” Eita started, approaching Wakatoshi with a concerned expression “There’s another thing to discuss”

“Indeed,” the emperor now looked at the chained dealer, which was almost forgotten amidst the heated exchange with Kouta.

“I’m not talking about him”

“Hmm?” Wakatoshi looked up to Eita.

“I was very thorough with my interrogation, and I made sure to restore all documents he tried to destroy in the fire. I doubt we can get more info from him. I wanted to talk about the victim”, he explained, although Wakatoshi could notice how his eyes saddened when he changed the subject.

“Right”, the emperor didn’t feel like asking Semi about why he seemed so concerned about this case, maybe he was more shocked by the existing of this trafficking network than he let on. “What can you tell me about it?”

Semi visibly tensed, and Wakatoshi could notice him trying to avoid making eye contact with him for a split second. He looked like his thoughts were frozen for a moment.

“I think you should see it in person”. The sorcerer gestured to a door in the garrison that seemed like the entrance to an infirmary. “Please let me check is she’s awake first, I’ll come back when she’s ready”. He then made his way to the door in a hurried manner that seemed strange for Wakatoshi and Shirabu.

“Right, they mentioned a ritual”, the younger sorcerer said, “How bad is it Tendou?”

“Not that bad all things considered”, Satori said calmly, much to Kenjirou’s annoyance.

“Coming from you that’s not reassuring at all”-Tendou pouted at the response-“What ritual did they perform?”

The spymaster took a second glance at the chained-up dealer, then back to the other two men.

“The documents we retrieved from him said ´Ritual succeeded. Life essence was transferred to objective, but all my assistants were scorched alive. Not even ashes were left. Must request compensation to council” he stated in a matter of fact manner.

Wakatoshi just stood there with eyes wide open, trying to process what the bloody hell did he just listen to, while Shirabu eventually went from stupor to agitation.

“WHAT? How can you say something like that so calmly?!” the young sorcerer shouted.

“Easy there Kenjirou”

“Easy? You just said that someone performed a life transference ritual that resulted in several casualties!! And you dare to say that the victim ´isn’t that bad´?!”, by this point though, Shirabu’s exasperation had only resulted in the spymaster’s amusement.

Wakatoshi had remained stationary for the time being, knowing full well that getting information out of Tendou would be difficult when he was this entertained, to say the least. The emperor looked back to the infirmary door, wondering why Eita was taking so long, not to mention, he had noticed how the sorcerer had seemed more agitated than normal during the interrogation.

Just as he thought of going to retrieve Semi himself, the door opened revealing a seemingly relieved Semi, who quickly made his way to the other three.

“She’s awake now and ready to see you, your majesty,” he said. Eita then looked at the other two, who were still stuck in their one-sided argument. “What did he do now?” he asked referring to the spymaster.

“He told us that there was a ritual involving life transference and that there were multiple casualties,” Wakatoshi answered plainly, making Semi sigh in defeat.

“I wanted to explain that myself,” the sorcerer said in an annoyed tone “Tendou!”

“Yes Semi-Semi?” the spymaster replied, only upsetting his partner even more.

Semi only tightened his fists. “Get this guy out of here” he said gesturing to the chained-up dealer. “Kenjirou, you are coming with us”

“Ah? Sure”, the younger sorcerer gave one last angry glance at Tendou, who calmly tugged at the chains of the prisoner, who slowly got up as the other three made their way to the infirmary.

“Could you be so kind to explain this ritual business to us?” Wakatoshi said as they walked.

“We did retrieve some information on the matter, but we can discuss that later” Semi answered without looking back to the emperor, much to the latter and Shirabu’s concern.

Before Wakatoshi could press the issue further, Semi hurriedly opened the infirmary door, revealing a candlelit row of beds. Most of them were empty, although some had injured and sick soldiers, but one of them, which was at the end of the room, had a figure sitting on the bed instead of laying down.

It was small, very small. Wrapped in blankets, to the point only a small turf of bright red hair was made visible by the candle light.

“A child?” Wakatoshi whispered, slightly horrified.

“No, she’s about our age. Please walk slowly, we don’t want to wake up the other patients,” Semi explained before stepping forward.

Once the three reached the bed, the figure shifted slightly, and at that moment, Wakatoshi saw two bright green orbs looking at him.

At first, the color reminded him of emeralds, but then he decided that this shade of green seemed way to warm to be associated with cold stones. No, this seemed more like freshly cut grass-

“I don’t want to leave, Wakatoshi”

The words seemed to come from the back of the emperor’s head, and for a moment his vision seemed to be blocked by a very different scene.

Instead of a dark room, he was in the middle of a field with the sun shining brightly on his face. Poppies reaching for miles and tickling his calves. But his attention was now in the tear stained face in front of him.

“But my mom says that my dad is gone, and we can’t stay anymore”. Fiery locks framed glassy jade eyes, whose owner’s fingers were tightly gripping the edge of her dress.

Wakatoshi was about to answer, but then he blinked, and the illusion was broken. He was once again in the candlelit infirmary, only this time he -somehow- was kneeling in front of the bed.

The girl was looking down at him, and for a second the emperor could see a spark of recognition in those green orbs, which he was sure was also in his own eyes as well.

The face in front of him seemed much different of the one he’d seen in his head though. Those green eyes were not weighted down by tear tracks, but deep eyebags instead. The round childish face from before now seemed bony, and he feared to see how much weigh the rest of her body lacked beneath the thin bed sheets she was wrapped with.

“Wakatoshi…”

It sounded gentle like a breeze, sweet like a bell chiming.

Yet, both seemed to forget they weren’t alone.

“Excuse me miss,” Shirabu interrupted with a slightly annoyed tone. “You shouldn’t address the emperor by name”

The girl broke contact with Wakatoshi, who felt a strange pang inside his chest when she looked away. The poor woman looked at the two sorcerers beside the monarch, one of them looking seemingly irritated and the other….

Semi was visibly facepalming.

“Sorry about that, my lady” he said, emphasizing the last word and making Kenjirou and Wakatoshi turn their heads at him in confusion.

“I-I’m so-so sorry!” the girl replied, blushing a lovely shade of pink and bowing her head, leaving only her red hair visible.

“Is all right miss. Let me explain first,” Eita gave a nod to Wakatoshi, who stood up and returned to the spot he was at before he had that strange flashback.

The court sorcerer then sat down next to the girl, only making her look even smaller.

“Your majesty, you might not fully remember her, but this is Hatori Chise, the daughter of our former court sorcerer Hatori Yuuki” he stated, at that statement, Wakatoshi could feel his breath getting caught in his chest.

TA-DA

That’s all for now. For reference, canonically Chise is REALLY SMOL compared to these volleyball giants: She’s only 5.1.

Next: Chapter 1: Life kills me.

Comments are always appreciated.

[legxllyblxndc]

hayes family dinner ( @foreverwednesday​ )

EH GCH WH BC AM MS AG: "Mum! Noah's in my seat!" Nancy whined into the kitchen, attempting to shove her brother out of the chair she usually sat in at dinnertime for the third time. "Mum!" She shouted through, wanting her mum to come in and tell him to move - it had always been this way at dinnertimes, although as the two of them got older it was becoming less frequent to have everybody around this table. They'd tried to make the effort since Elias had died, though. "Would you please just move? You know I like sitting here!" She told him, sighing dramatically. She always liked sitting next to her grandma Grace at these dinners and she knew her brother knew that.

EH GCH WH BC AM MS AG: Freddie groaned as Noah and Nancy continued to bicker, taking a gulp of his water and shaking his head. "Will you two stop pratting around?" He snapped, looking at them with an annoyed expression. "Just sit somewhere else." He wasn't usually quite this irritable, but he'd not had a lot to drink today, knowing he had this dinner to come to - and he and Dawn had argued right before he'd come to the dinner. "And don't ask me to take my hat off, before you start." He told Grace with narrowed eyebrows. "I'm cold. It's staying on." He'd only served to get more grumpy as he got older. He did enjoy these dinners with his family, he liked getting to see them all together... Sometimes it was just hidden by the moodiness.

EH GCH WH BC AM MS AG: "Noah, just move!" Ava called from the kitchen with a groan, trying to dish everything up as quickly as she could because she knew people would be getting impatient. "Dinner will be ten minutes, maximum!" She called through, stopping to take a sip of her wine and wipe her forehead with the back of her hand. She loved these dinners, she loved getting to see her kids properly and speak to her nephew too - but it was always a little stressful when they started bickering. Especially since she knew Freddie would be grumpy about it. Things had been even more stressful lately, because Noah had been so adamant about her giving him his birth certificate - they had managed to avoid this so many times in the past and she was sure they'd be able to find a way around it this time, too... But it didn't mean it wasn't stressful for her. "Does anybody need a new drink?" She called, raising an eyebrow.

FH AH AG NH AG: Arlo kept his eyes on the table in front of him, his foot tapping the floor moodily as he listened to everything going on around him. He was keeping his word, he hadn't spoken to or even looked at Iris properly, but it was hard. He wanted to. At stuff like this, the two of them would usually be non-stop chattering and he felt like everything was totally different now because of it. He sighed and looked to his mum, before he looked back at the table. He didn't really want to be there anymore and he really hoped it didn't last as long as these dinners usually did. He just wanted to be at home, where he didn't have to be reminded of how badly he'd messed up constantly.

FH AH AG NH AG: Aaron looked sadly at his son; he knew how downhearted he felt about everything, how much he regretted what he'd done to Iris... And although he didn't blame her, he did wish that she would be able to find forgiveness for him. He loved him so much, he just wanted the best for him. He didn't want things to be awkward though, so he was attempting to keep things bright. "So, Bri - how's Johnny doing?" He smiled across the table, raising an eyebrow. He'd always gotten along with Johnny and he thought he was really good for both Bridie and Iris.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "No! Tell her to get her own seat! I was here first!" Noah snapped. He was in a bad mood. Partly because Nancy was being annoying and his mum was taking her side, partly because he hadn't been able to get out of the family dinner but mostly because his mum was being so annoying and wouldn't give him his birth certificate. He had lost his job. He needed his certificate to be able to try and get another one. He didn't understand why she was being so stubborn about it. "I'm not fucking moving!" Noah snapped, shaking his head. "Go and sit next to Iris, maybe she'll stop looking so miserable."

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Grace took a big gulp off her wine as she had to sit and listen to Noah and Nancy bickering. She loved them. She loved being a grandma but they were annoying her today. "Noah, will you please move." Grace tried, for the third time. She was getting really sick of his attitude and if she was honest, being so close to Noah hurt. He reminded her so much of Elias. "I wasn't going to say anything, Freddie." Grace muttered, shaking her head as she looked away from him. They were much closer now than they used to be but she didn't think that he could get away talking to her like that.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Although Jude enjoyed spending time with his family, it was nights like this which wound him up a little bit. "Noah!" Jude snapped, getting really frustrated that he wasn't listening to anyone. "Don't talk to your mother like that. Get up. Sit over there!" Once he had moved - huffing and puffing as he went - he stood up then and moved to the kitchen to grab himself a drink. He smiled at Ava a little, "Are you okay?" He asked her. He knew that she was a little stressed out today and he wanted to be able to help her.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "You're cold?" Alba asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked to her dad. "Can I put the heating up a little, Ava?" She still did whatever she could to make sure that her dad was okay. She was pretty sure that he was going downhill slowly and she wasn't completely sure how to fix it. Alba had made sure to sit next to her son at the dinner table, wanting to make sure that he knew she was there if he needed someone. She didn't like how Iris was treating him. He had made a mistake, she didn't think it was fair to make him suffer. "Do you want another drink, Arlo?" She asked her son, smiling slightly.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Iris rolled her eyes as she heard Noah, "Shut up." She growled at him. This was why she didn't want to be here. She knew that she wouldn't enjoy herself and she would just bring the mood down. If she hadn't promised Arlo that she would be there, she wouldn't have gone at all. She just wanted to stay at home, order takeaway and eat her body weight in ice cream. "Could I have more wine, please, Ava?" She asked, calling over to the older woman. She knew that she couldn't get drunk - not at something like this - but she wanted to, at least, dull her feelings a little.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Bridie scowled at Noah as he spoke about Iris. Her thinking was similar to Aarons. Arlo had done something bad but he was owning up to that. He was clearly beating himself up about it. But Bridie also thought that her daughter was overreacting a little. It wasn't like they were properly together. It was why she was trying to help Arlo as much as she could. She smiled, as she looked too Aaron and nodded, "Yeah, he's doing good. He's with Caleb tonight, I think." She chuckled. Sometimes, Bridie felt a little bad about her relationship with Johnny. She loved him but she didn't ever think that she would be in love with him. She knew that, that would only ever be Elias.

FH AH AG NH AG: "I sit here every week!" Nancy snapped back; she didn't see why it was such a big deal, why he couldn't just move when he knew that was where she liked to sit. "Shut up, Noah. You're one to talk about looking miserable." She rolled her eyes. Her brother had been nothing but miserable recently and she was getting sick of it, especially when he'd made his own bed. She smiled as her grandma and dad told him to move and he eventually did, sliding into the seat with a satisfied smile. "Thanks, dad!" She beamed, sliding Noah's drink over to him and pouring herself one. "Do you want me to put the heating up, granddad?" She asked, looking over to Freddie as he said he was cold.

FH AH AG NH AG: "I'm fine. Stop fussing. It's why I put my hat on." Freddie said bluntly, scowling around the table at the people who were starting to fuss over him. He didn't need the heating on, he had just been making a point that he wasn't taking off his hat. "Why isn't he talking everybody's ear off like usual?" He narrowed his eyes, nodding over at Arlo. "And you -" He pointed at Noah. "What happened to your job?" As he got older, Freddie had even less tact - he didn't really care what he said anymore, he was as blunt as could be and right now, he wanted answers. He forgot a lot of stuff nowadays, so he didn't really know if he'd already been told or not, but he wanted to know again.

FH AH AG NH AG: Ava rolled her eyes from in the kitchen. "And you know that's Nancy's seat, so just move!" She called back, shaking her head. She was used to her kids bickering by now, but it didn't mean it wasn't annoying. She smiled as she heard her husband coming into the kitchen, turning around with a nod. "Yeah, fine. Everything's nearly sorted." She smiled. "Is he still talking about his birth certificate?" She raised an eyebrow, lowering her voice to a whisper. He had already asked a couple of times tonight and she was finding it harder than usual to lie. As he was getting older, she knew she couldn't just continue to do everything for him - but she couldn't think of a way around it all just yet.

FH AH AG NH AG: Arlo sighed as Noah spoke about Iris; he didn't see why he had to make a comment, not when they were all sat around like this. "Yeah, please. Can I have a coke?" He asked his mum, raising an eyebrow. He wished they'd just stayed at home tonight instead, but he knew that wasn't going to happen - not when the whole rest of the family was there. He raised an eyebrow, looking up at his granddad. "I'm fine, granddad. Just tired." He muttered, shrugging his shoulders. He was usually the one being told to shut up and eat at this kind of thing, but he couldn't even think of anything to say tonight.

FH AH AG NH AG: Aaron patted his sons shoulder gently, looking over to Freddie with a smile. "He's been busy with football training, Fred. Tires him out." He nodded his head, as though that explained it. "That would make sense." He chuckled, nodding his head. He thought it was lovely that Caleb and Johnny were still such good friends after all this time. He looked around, realising that Ava hadn't heard Iris's request. "Here you go, Iris." He smiled, picking up the bottle of wine and reaching over to pour some into her glass.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Noah rolled his eye as Nancy spoke to him again. He was annoyed with her. He was annoyed at pretty much all of them right now, if he was honest. He sat down next to Bridie with a sigh. Once his granddad started speaking to him, he rolled his eyes. "Because I did, granddad. It happens." He shrugged. He didn't care what everyone else said. He wasn't going to admit what had happened. He had failed the drug test. Noah wasn't really surprised. He hadn't really been sober very much recently. When he was, he was normally in this mood. He rolled his eyes, "Tell mum I've gone to look for my birth certificate." He muttered to Ava before he headed upstairs. He knew where she put all the documents and stuff.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "You could take the hat off if you let them put the heating on." Grace muttered, shaking her head a little bit. She thought that she knew why he was being like this, he hadn't been drinking. But she knew that it was none of her business. It hadn't really been any of her business for a long time. She turned to Nancy as Noah spoke to his granddad, "What happened?" She asked her, trying to keep her voice down - though everyone at the table could probably hear her. If he was anything like the others in the family, she knew what had happened but she wanted to know if what she was thinking was true or not.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Alba sighed as she saw the look on her dads face. She didn't like it when he was in this mood. There was only one person, in the world, that Alba would stand up for over her father and that was her son. So when he spoke to him like he did, she shook her head a little bit. "Lay off him, okay dad?" She raised an eyebrow. She didn't think it was fair to kick him when he was down. "Yeah, of course." Alba smiled as Arlo asked for a coke and she got up. She moved quickly to the kitchen, not really paying attention to what Ava and Jude were saying, and handed the can back to her son.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "Okay, well, then i'll stay in here till you're done." He shrugged. Jude didn't want to deal with the rest of his family until his wife was by his side. "Of course he is." Jude muttered, nodding his head. They hadn't thought about that when they had said that they would adopt him. He didn't know how they were going to be able to explain this away, how they were going to get Noah what he needed. "Maybe we just have to tell him the truth, Ava." He sighed. He didn't know what else they were going to do.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Iris chuckled a little as Freddie spoke to Arlo - mostly because of how harsh he was. She had always enjoyed that about him. She sighed as everyone instantly came to Arlos defence. "We've had a fall out, Freddie. Arlo is sulking." She shrugged her shoulders. She figured that there wasn't any point in lying about it. She didn't care if anyone got annoyed at her. She was hurting and she wasn't going to pretend like she wasn't just to make everyone else feel better. "Oh. Thank you." Iris muttered as Aaron poured her a little bit of wine.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Bridie laughed, nodding her head, "Yeah, I'd say so too." After Elias, Bridie hadn't known if she had wanted to be around all of the Hayes as much. She had spiralled -massively - and she was just beginning to get back on her feet. She had a glass of wine with her dinner but she didn't think that, that was anything to worry about - she knew that it probably wasn't great, though. "Iris." Bridie muttered, shaking her head. She thought that the Hayes were well in their rights to not invite her tonight. She didn't want to cause issues before dinner had even started.

FH AH AG NH AG: Nancy raised an eyebrow as Noah spoke. "But mum said she --" But before she could get out the rest of her sentence, her brother had gotten up and gone. She didn't think it was a big deal, she didn't see why her mum had been so insistent on sorting it herself anyway. She thought it was just Ava trying to stay in control. She sighed as she looked to her grandma, wondering whether she should say or not. She was worried about her brother, she knew his job had meant a lot to him. "I - he said they had to do some kind of drug test..." She admitted with a sigh, keeping her voice to the quietest of whispers.

FH AH AG NH AG: "I don't want to take it off. I'm fine." Freddie grumbled, reaching for the bottle of wine and pouring some into his glass. He didn't care what anybody said, everybody else there had a glass and he was in a bad mood, now. "Not without a reason it doesn't." He muttered over to Noah, but he didn't push any harder than that. He might be a little out of his sometimes, but he knew Noah was similar to Elias - if he didn't want to tell you something, then he wouldn't. He looked over to Iris for a second, but ignored what she'd said and looked over to his daughter, narrowing his eyes. "Why can't he get his own coke?" He asked, taking a big gulp of his wine.

FH AH AG NH AG: "Okay. You wanna start putting the vegetables into bowls, then?" Ava asked with a smile, leaning down to take the lasagne out of the oven. It needed time to cool before she plated it all up, but it wasn't all that late - she thought people could wait a little bit longer. "God, I don't know why he's being so stubborn about it..." She sighed, shaking her head. She wished Noah would just let her handle it, would let her get his paperwork across to anybody who needed it. She stood up straight as Jude spoke, looking him in the eye. "He will never forgive us, Jude. Do you understand that? If we tell him the truth, we'll never see him again." She truly believed that - and that was why all of this was scaring her so much.

FH AH AG NH AG: Arlo knew his mum was always going to stand up for him and he loved that so much, but he also knew his granddad wasn't likely to back down when he was in this kind of a mood. "Thanks, mum." He said quietly, taking the can and opening it quickly, pouring it into his glass. He ignored what his granddad was saying - Freddie was always saying he was spoiled and he hated it. He knew he was, but he didn't think he was the only one - Nancy was pretty spoiled, too. He rolled his eyes as Iris spoke. He'd wanted her to be there, but he didn't think she was being fair right now.

FH AH AG NH AG: Aaron sighed as Iris spoke, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to the girl. "Can we maybe not do that?" He asked firmly. He understood the girl was hurting and he thought she had more than enough reason to be; he felt awful for her, but he also didn't think it was fair of her to come here and start talking about Arlo like that. Not when he was already obviously feeling terrible. "Al, could you pass me the water jug, please?" He smiled over at his wife. He was driving tonight, so he wasn't having anything to drink. It didn't really bother him, though.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Noah heard what his sister said as he was leaving the room but he didn't really care. He had been asking his mum for his birth certificate for a couple days now and he couldn't understand why it was such a difficult request for her. He couldn't have his mother emailing his potential jobs his birth certificates every single time. He didn't see why he couldn't just get it and keep it in his new place. He reached for the little box that his mum kept all the documents in, shifting through them, looking for what he needed. When he found it, though, he was really confused.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Grace rolled her eyes as she listened too Freddie. She wasn't going to fight with him on it though. She didn't see the point, she knew that he wouldn't listen to her. Though she did sigh loudly as she saw him reach for the wine. She didn't understand why he had to do that. Why he couldn't just give it a rest. Graces eyes went wide as she listened to her granddaughter, though. "That stupid boy." She hissed. Grace had never been particularly fond over drugs but she had become even worse about it since Elias. "I'll be back in a second." She gave Nancy a tight smile before she marched - as much as she could - into the kitchen. "You allow him to do drugs?" She hissed, looking from her son to her daughter-in-law.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "Alright. Yeah." Noah nodded his head before he started to sort out the vegetables. He figured that it was better to keep himself busy than dwell on what would happen if Noah ever found out. "What choice do we have, Ava? You know that he won't stop. He'll keep pushing. We're going to have to tell him." He didn't know, though. He had no idea if Ava was right. If Noah wouldn't talk to them again. As he heard his mothers voice, he turned to face her. Noah hadn't told him why he had gotten fired but he looked to Ava, wondering if she knew that, that was why.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "No problem," Alba nodded her head, shooting him a small smile. She hated how cut up he felt about everything that had happened and she would do whatever she could to make him feel better. Even if it was just grabbing him a coke. "Because I don't mind getting it, Dad. It's no big deal. Like Aaron said. He's been busy with training." She shrugged her shoulders. She wouldn't fight him but she didn't like how he constantly had double standards when it came to Arlo and Nancy. They were both spoilt. At least Alba held her hands up to it. "Of course." Alba smiled at her husband and passed him the water jug.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Iris rolled her eyes as she listened to Aaron, "Freddie asked a question, I was just answering it." She didn't think that she was out of line. She didn't like that people refused to hold Arlo accountable. Iris knew that literally everything she did, she was scrutinised by her mum - by everyone. She didn't understand why Arlo got to get away with everything. Especially something like this. He was hurting but so was she.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "Iris. Stop it." Bridie muttered, shaking her head. She thought that they were lucky to get an invite to this with the way that Arlo and Iris were. She loved the Hayes. She had been around them for most of her life but she understood that blood came first. They would always stick up for one another. She shook her head as she looked at Aaron, "i'm sorry. She's been in a right mood recently."

FH AH AG NH AG: Nancy didn't fully understand what was going on with her brother; he was successful, he liked his job, he was doing well for himself... So why would he risk it, how could he let himself fail the drug test? She felt really worried about him. She sighed as Grace got up from the table, but she knew she couldn't do anything about it now. She took a sip of her drink, hoping her mum and dad came back in soon - tonight seemed like a bit of a bust, there was so much tension between all of them.

FH AH AG NH AG: Ava shook her head as Jude spoke. She didn't think she could have this conversation, not right now - the thought of her son not speaking to her again was too much, the idea of what he'd think if he found out they weren't his biological parents. She couldn't even think about it. She looked up as Grace came into the kitchen, sighing. "We don't allow him to do anything, Grace - he's nineteen, he lives alone. He makes his own decisions." She thought she, more than anybody, should understand that.

FH AH AG NH AG: Arlo looked up as his grandma got up and went into the kitchen, looking over at Nancy almost as if to question what she'd told her - he didn't think tonight was going to improve, if he was honest. Nobody seemed to be feeling like they wanted to be there, least of all him. "I'm starving." He muttered, looking around to the kitchen. "How long do you think it's going to be?" He asked his mum, raising an eyebrow. They usually ate around now and since he'd been at training, his stomach was grumbling loudly.

FH AH AG NH AG: Freddie shrugged his shoulders. "You spoil him." He muttered, shaking his head. He loved his grandson, he loved all of his grandchildren - but he thought all three of them got away with a lot more than he'd let his own kids get away with. He picked up his glass of wine and downed what was left in the cup, pouring some more in and taking another big gulp. He already felt better, it was helping his mood. "Where did Noah go?" He asked, looking to Nancy and then to Alba.

FH AH AG NH AG: Aaron shook his head at Iris's eye roll. In his opinion, if this was the way she was feeling then he didn't think she'd needed to come - Arlo felt bad enough, he didn't want him feeling like he was being attacked at his own family dinner. "It's okay, really." He smiled at Bridie slightly. He didn't want her to feel bad about it, he just wished they could all try and get through this dinner without sniping at each other. He didn't think there was any need.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Jude sighed as Ava decided to ignore him. He didn't know what they could do but at least he was trying to give a solution to the problem. Ava was just trying to ignore it. He shook his head a little as he looked at his mum, though. "Please don't start. You know what he's like. He's not going to listen to us." It scared him. How much Noah was to his brother - it terrified him. But he didn't know what they could do about it. If Noah wanted to do drugs he was going to do them, no matter what they said. He was sure that his mum knew that.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Grace shook her head a little as she looked between the two of them. She was really trying to keep her emotions in check. She had already lost her son and she didn't want to lose her grandson as well. She was sure that they would know that. "He's too much like Elias for his own good." Grace whispered, shaking her head. When her children were Noahs age, she let them do what they wanted with that kind of thing. She thought that it was just a teenager thing. She thought that if she had done something about it now, worked harder to nip it in the bud, then Elias might still be alive.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "It won't be long." Alba smiled slightly as she looked at Arlo. She hoped that it would. She wanted to get tonight over and done with. If they did, then maybe the next dinner things would be a little back to normal. "Do you have to drink, dad? You know that it puts you in a horrible mood." She snapped. She didn't like dealing with him when he was like this. "And so what if he is spoilt? He's going through some things right now. I think he deserves to be spoilt tonight." Although she knew that he was spoilt every day of his life. He was their miracle baby. Nothing that happened would change that. "I don't know where he went.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Iris was wishing more and more that she hadn't come. She wished that she had just ignored Arlo and stayed at home because this was worse than she had ever imagined. "You okay?" She whispered to her friend. She had no idea what was going on right now - with Noah - but she wanted to make sure that she was okay. She was the only one there that she really wanted to talk too right now.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Bridie shook her head slightly as Aaron said it was okay, "We should have stayed at home. I didn't realise she was going to be like this." She whispered to Aaron. He was one of her oldest friends at this point so she knew that he would tell her straight if he wasn't happy about something. "I just -" She shook her head. "She said that she wouldn't come and now she's there. I don't know." She wasn't really sure what more she could say about it, if she was honest. She hated the situation that Arlo and Iris had put them all in.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: 'Certificate of adoption.' The document read and Noah was so confused. If he was reading this thing correctly it meant that his mother wasn't his mother and his father? His father was Elias. Ever since he was young, Noah had felt more of a kinship with his uncle. He had always felt like the other man got him, better than anyone else. And now he was finding out that his uncle was actually his father. He didn't understand. Instead of thinking about it, Noah got up and charged downstairs. If this was true, he didn't understand why his 'parents' hadn't told him about it. He didn't understand why they would keep something like this from him. "What the hell is this?!" Noah shouted, storming past the rest of his family, to his parents in the kitchen.

FH AH AG NH AG: Of course, it terrified Ava that Noah seemed to be heading down a similar path to Elias - every day she felt like she saw a new similarity between them and that was so scary. But she didn't know what they were supposed to do about it - he was an adult, he didn't live with them anymore. They couldn't stop him from doing something he wanted to do. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Noah had stormed into the kitchen. Her blood ran cold as she realised what he was holding in his hands and she genuinely felt like she was going to throw up. "Noah..." She whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. This was her worst nightmare, her very biggest fear, manifesting itself before her eyes.

FH AH AG NH AG: Freddie rolled his eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about." He snapped back, shaking his head as he picked up his glass to drink some more. He thought that Arlo was too spoiled for his own good, that they were ruining him by running about after him like he was some kind of baby. His gaze snapped up as Noah stormed through the dining room and into the kitchen, raising an eyebrow as the boy started to shout. "What the hell is going on?" He asked, looking around them. By the sound of Noah's voice, it was quite clearly something serious.

FH AH AG NH AG: Arlo sighed as his mum started to snap at his granddad - he knew he was the only person she would do that for and it made him feel guilty, because he knew his granddad was probably right. He was spoiled. He didn't want that to change, though. "Woah, what the - what?" He asked as Noah stormed past them all. "What was that?" He asked, looking between his parents. He didn't think he'd seen Noah speak to his parents like that in a while and he had no idea what could've set him off.

FH AH AG NH AG: "Yeah, I'm okay. Are you?" Nancy asked Iris with a little smile, taking another sip of her drink. She knew tonight was going to be difficult for her best friend, but she was glad she'd come anyway - to her, Iris was a part of the family and she deserved to be here. She jumped slightly as Noah came storming in, instantly getting to her feet and following him into the kitchen. "What happened?" She asked him, instantly concerned - she knew he wouldn't be like this unless something was wrong.

FH AH AG NH AG: "No, I get it - it's a difficult situation, Bri. I just - you know, I don't want him to feel like he needs to feel this bad about it every second of the day." Aaron admitted with a sigh. He didn't know if that was the right thing to say, but it was the truth - Arlo had to be forgiven at some point, he couldn't be totally miserable every day. He raised an eyebrow as the commotion started, turning to Bridie. "Oh dear..." He sighed. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew it didn't sound good.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Judes eyes went wide as he saw his son, as he realised what it was that he was holding in his hands. He had worried that Noah would find out like this - that was what he was trying to say to his wife just before he came down. He looked from his son, to Ava and then to his mum. He didn't know what to do. "Noah, just calm down." He muttered. "Everythings fine." He called to the rest of his family. He really hoped that he would calm down, that he would understand that they would tell him once all of this was over.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Grace gasped as she saw what was in Noahs hands. She shook her head and turned away from it all. She didn't think that she had it in her to be able to deal with that today. Grace had been in full support when Ava and Jude had told her the plan. She thought that it was the only way that they could get any of this done. But now? Now she wasn't so sure. She didn't know what to do. So she turned around and sat back down in her seat. She shook her head a little as she listened to everyone, asking what it was that was going on.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "Of course I don't dad. I forgot that you know my son better than I do." Alba rolled her eyes, unable to help herself. She understood that he was going through some things, that he was struggling with his addiction but she wished that he didn't take it out on the rest of them. She didn't think that it was very fair at all. She was about to say something else - when she heard the shouting from Noah. And since Ava and Jude didn't really response, she knew that something was really, really bad. "Mum, what's happening?" She asked. Even now, her relationship with her mother wasn't great but she thought that, by the look on her face, she knew what was happening.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Iris nodded as Nancy spoke to her but her attention was quickly taken by Noah shouting. She wasn't sure what had happened but it didn't sound good. "What the fuck..." She muttered, shaking her head a little. She had no idea what was happening but she knew that it wasn't good. She looked at Nancy, raising an eyebrow. She wondered if she had more of a clue but from the look on her face, she was as unsure as Iris was.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Bridie nodded as she listened to Aaron. She understood what he was saying and she thought that she might have been similar if the roles were reversed. If it was Iris who had cheated and not Arlo. She knew that she was in agreement with Aaron, though, Arlo didn't deserve to be treated like he had done this horrible thing. He clearly felt bad about it. Her attention was taken, though, as she looked over to Noah, "Ava, what's going on?" She called. She knew that she couldn't get involved in her friends business, not when it was with her son but she would always be there for her.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: As neither of his parents said anything, Noah knew that what he was holding was true. They could've said anything. It was a joke. It was a halloween costume from when he was little. Anything. And he thought that he might have been desperate enough to believe them. He wanted to believe them. He couldn't understand how this would be the truth. "Everything it not fine!" Noah shouted, shaking his head a little as he turned back around to face the others. He glanced to Nancy but shook his head a little. "They're not my parents." Noah growled. He handed his granddad the certificate he held.

FH AH AG NH AG: Since the day they'd found out about Noah, Ava had regarded him as their son - and for years, for so long, she had never even thought about the fact that he wasn't biologically theirs. From the minute she'd held him, she'd never loved anybody so much - he was her son, that was the end of it. But deep down, she'd always feared that if he were to find out Elias were his father - the man he had been so close to, who had been his best friend... She was scared that he would never want to see them again. And that was all she could think right now. "Yes, we are! Noah, of course we're your parents!" She cried, tears already streaming down her face. "Noah, whatever that - that piece of paper says. We are your parents. Me and your dad. We were the ones that held you as soon as you were born. We're the ones that raised you, we - please. Please let us explain." She cried.

FH AH AG NH AG: "What the hell are you talking about?" Nancy asked Noah as he spoke, a confused laugh falling from her mouth - she thought what he was saying was just ridiculous. Of course Ava and Jude were his parents - they had photos of him from when he was a newborn baby, Nancy had only been born one year later and Noah was in every single one of her childhood memories. She didn't see how it could be possible. But as she looked at her mother, as she heard what she was saying... She had to wonder if it was true. "Mum?" She asked, a nervous smile on her face. She was waiting for somebody to say this was all a big joke. "Dad?" She asked, looking over to Jude. Her hands were shaking now and she wasn't smiling anymore. She didn't understand what was going on.

FH AH AG NH AG: Arlo genuinely had no clue what was going on - he could see the looks on his grandmas face, on his aunts and uncles and he still had no clue... But he knew it wasn't good. "Mum, what's happening?" He whispered, looking to her to explain everything to him. He didn't understand what the alternative was, if Ava and Jude weren't Noah's parents. He tried to peer over the table to see what it was his granddad was holding, what Noah had handed him. "Granddad?" He asked.

FH AH AG NH AG: "Will somebody tell me what the fuck is happening?!" Freddie demanded, slamming his hand down on the table as all the shouting started. He was never good in situations like this, but he had even less patience now he was older. "Now!" He demanded, picking up his wine and tipping it into his mouth. He took the piece of paper from Noah with a shaking hand, his eyes scanning over it. Signed by Elias Hayes. That was all he needed to see. He felt confusion bubbling up in his stomach, anger and sadness. This had all happened and he'd had no idea. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd squeezed the wine glass in his hand so hard that it had smashed and shattered onto the floor. It barely phased him, though. He looked up, into his sons eyes. "Is this fucking true?"

FH AH AG NH AG: "I think we all need to calm down a little bit." Aaron said gently as Freddie slammed his hand onto the table, sighing softly. He had seen arguments between the Hayes family before and they were never pretty, he didn't think one should happen when all of their children were sitting around the table. He didn't think he'd be able to do much good, though. He had no idea what was happening, even as Noah spoke - he didn't think what he could be saying was true. He jumped as the glass in Freddie's hand shattered. "Freddie, are you - are you bleeding?" He asked, but it didn't look like the older man was paying him attention. Slowly, Aaron turned his gaze to Jude - surely this wasn't true?

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Like Ava, Jude had never thought of Noah as his brothers son. He was his. He was Ava. They were his parents. It was the only thing that he could think. He and Ava had raised him. They had been there for his entire life. He didn't see why he needed to know this. He didn't understand why it all had to crash around them now. "Noah, stop shouting!" Jude snapped. But then he heard his daughters voice, his fathers voice and he turned to look at him. "It's true." He nodded. "We didn't have any other options, dad. But Noahs our son. It dioesn't matter what a piece of paper says! He's our son."

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Grace was silent as the rest of the family started shouting. She felt sick. She couldn't believe that all of this was happening, that this was coming out now. She didn't see what good this was going to do. Elias was dead. It didn't matter if Noah was biologically Elias', Jude and Ava were his parents. She took a gulp of her drink and jumped a little as she heard the glass smash. She knew that none of them would be very happy. She wished that they had all done this before, when Elias was here but it was done now. She didn't understand what good this would do now.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "I don't know..." Alba muttered, shaking her head. She had no idea what was causing any of this but none of it sounded real. Noah wasn't Judes? "B - If he isn't yours, who - I don't understand." Alba sighed. She had no idea what was happening. She had no idea how this was happening. She looked to Aaron, hoping that he would have more answers for Arlo than she did because she didn't know. She had no idea. "Dad" Alba hissed as she heard the glass and saw the blood. "Fuck, dad, you're bleeding." She shook her head a little bit. She instantly just wanted to help him.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: As everything started, as everyone started to scream at one another, Bridie snatched the piece of paper that Noah had handed to his Granddad. She couldn't understand it at first. "Adoption?" She muttered, shaking her head. It was like her brain refused to take in what was right in front of her, that this was really true. Because if this was true then she was sure that Ava would have told her. Her eyes were drawn to the signature. To Elias's handwriting and she felt like she had been punched in the gut. "He's Elias's?" She asked, looking over to Ava, her eyes glistening with tears.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Iris felt like everything had gone from nought to one hundred so quickly and she had no idea what it was that was happening. She reached for Nancys hand, though, wanting to give her a little bit of comfort. She hated that this was happening right now, that this was how things were coming out but she knew that her job here was just to be there for her best friend. But as she heard her mums voice, her stomach dropped. If that was true, if Noah was Elias' son, then this was all so much worse than she thought that it would have been.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Noah glared at his mum and dad as as they tried to explain it away, tried to tell him that they were his parents, that it didn't change anything. He shook his head. "DON'T!" He shouted at her. He was most hurt by her. She had never told him. She had never even hinted. All of the times he had spent with his uncle, all of the fights with Jude. It all seemed to make sense now. "No wonder you've already treated her better than you have me." He scoffed. "She's your actual fucking daughter. It all makes sense now!"

FH AH AG NH AG: Ava couldn't even focus on anybody else - she could see her daughter looking at her, she could hear Bridie asking for answers... But all she could do was look at her son. "Please, Noah. You don't understand." She whispered, shaking her head. "He came to us, he begged us to help him. He never wanted a child, he never wanted to be a father. He wanted us to take you and he asked for us not to tell you. To tell anybody." She cried, tears streaming down her face. She didn't even try to stop them, she didn't care how she looked right now. She had never felt this desperate in her life. "Please Noah, you're my son. You've always been my son." She felt like she was going to break into pieces, her whole world was crumbling and she didn't know how to keep it all together.

FH AH AG NH AG: "Get the fuck off that! How dare you!" Freddie shouted as Bridie snatched the certificate away from him, snatching it back as she spoke. Losing his son was the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life, he still felt it every day now... The only thing that even slightly compared was the pain of knowing he'd failed him. He hadn't been there enough for him. And seeing his signature, seeing it there on paper - he had never given him enough support to believe he could be a good father himself. And that broke his heart. "Did you know about this?" He looked to Grace, with a face of stone. He didn't care that his hand was bleeding, he couldn't even feel it. But if he found out that Grace had known and had kept it from him... He didn't know if he'd be able to forgive her. "You kept this from me? You ALL kept this from me?!" He shouted, getting to his feet, the certificate clutched in his hand.

FH AH AG NH AG: Nancy's mouth fell open as Jude confirmed it was the truth. She didn't understand, she couldn't understand how it had happened... How Noah looked so much like their dad, like their uncle... Until Bridie spoke, until Ava spoke - and then she realised what was going on. "Oh my god..." She whispered, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. It felt as though she couldn't even breathe. Their parents had been lying to them all this time. For their entire lives. She looked to Noah, not even knowing what she could say. As Iris took her hand, she clung onto it for dear life - it felt like an anchor, a way to know all of this was real. Because it felt like she was in a parallel universe right now. "But he - Elias was Noah's best friend, I don't - I don't understand why he wouldn't ever say anything?"

FH AH AG NH AG: Arlo's eyes were as wide as saucers as he took in everything that was going on. Noah was Elias's son. Jude and Ava had adopted him when he was born and never told anybody. Even his mum. She was his first thought and he reached under the table to take her hand in both of his, squeezing gently. He knew how much his mum had loved Elias, how she would've done anything for him - and yet nobody had told her this. He couldn't believe it. He didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to get his head around it.

FH AH AG NH AG: "Oh jesus..." Aaron whispered under his breath as everything began to click into place. He remembered well how Jude and Ava had announced they were already five months pregnant, how they had asked for no visitors. How they had suddenly moved back to London with their newborn baby boy and started a life together. He remembered how Elias had lived at their house, how they had done anything for him. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and looked to his wife, squeezing her shoulder gently and getting up from his seat, going into the kitchen and looking into the cupboard for a First Aid kit. He thought he needed to be the calm one here. "Freddie, please just let me put something on your hand."

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Noah shook his head. He could barely hear what his mother was saying to him. He could barely even concentrate on her voice. He didn't think that the explanation even mattered. He didn't care. They hadn't told him what had happened. "Then why didn't you tell me after me died?" He growled. He thought that he might have been able to understand before. He thought that he might have been able to get that. But he didn't think that they had any excuse in it all anymore. He didn't know what to think. "I am not your son." Noah growled shaking his head. "I'm not! I'm his! And you lied to me for nineteen years! You took away the chance for me to know my father!" He shouted. He had known Elias as an Uncle. He thought that it was totally different if he had known him as his dad. "You should've told me."

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Grace flinched a little as Freddie started to shout at her. It was a habit that she had never managed to shake. She understood though. She knew that she should have told him but at that point, she barely saw her son. Elias was there but he wasn't. And she didn't want to do anything that was going to take that away from her. She loved Elias too much to risk her relationship with him. She sighed as she looked up at Freddie. "Elias made us keep it a secret. He didn't want us to tell you, Freddie. He didn't want anyone else to know." She had known when she had agreed to it that if Freddie found out, he would be so angry at her. "We had too!"

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Alba shook her head a little as she felt Arlos hand in hers. "Don't touch me." She snatched her hand away. As she listened to more of what they were saying - that Elias didn't want them to know, that he didn't trust them - she burst into tears. Her brother had been everything to her. She would have died for him and he had kept this from her. She couldn't understand why. She thought that it might be different if he was here. If Elias could explain everything but he wasn't and to Alba it just felt like he was keeping her at arms length, that he didn't trust her. Alba missed her brother every single day but she couldn't understand why he had done this.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: As everyone spoke over one another, as they continued to shout, Iris squeezed Nancys hand gently. She could only imagine what it was that her friend was thinking, what was going through her mind. She didn't know how to help. She looked over to her mum and her heart broke at the look on her face, seeing her chugging the wine. "Arlo..." Iris whispered. She wanted to be there for Nancy but someone needed to be there for her mum too and she thought that if it wasn't her, it should be him. She looked back to her best friend, then, "It doesn't matter, Nance. He's still your brother. He was still raised as your brother. He's still your brother." She repeated, nodding her head.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Jude sighed as he saw the look on his daughters face, as he saw how angry his dad was. "What did you want us to do?" He shouted at him. "The only way this was going to work is if we kept it quiet! We had no other options! But Noah is our son. No paper changes that." He would insist on that. He looked over to Nancy, then, "Your Uncle never wanted kids, Nancy. He didn't. He found out that he had gotten someone pregnant and he needed us to handle it. So we handled it. It was all we could do. We had to do it for him."

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Bridie shook her head at all the noise. It was overwhelming her. People were talking about Elias but he wasn't there. He couldn't tell them what had happened. For all she knew, they were lying. They hadn't done this for him, they had taken it from him. Bridie grabbed the bottle of wine and poured herself a bit glass. She downed it in two gulps. She had no idea what to say, what to think. She knew Elias. She knew that he didn't want kids. He had made that clear after she had, had Iris. He said that they would never happen again because of Iris. And he had, had a son all that time? She couldn't get her head wrapped around it.

FH AH AG NH AG: Noah saying he wasn't her son sent a knife right through Ava's heart - this was everything she had never wanted. Everything she'd feared since the day she'd sighed the adoption papers. "What difference would it have made, Noah?! He died! He was dead and he never - he NEVER wanted you to know!" She was practically screaming by this point because her emotions had totally taken over, she was facing losing her only son and it was breaking her heart into a million pieces. "He made that clear so many times, Noah. He never wanted to BE a father!" She sobbed, shaking her head. "Elias loved you so much, but he never wanted this, he never wanted that life." She wished that he was here, she wished he could explain it all - because ironically, she thought he was the only person Noah would even consider listening to right now.

FH AH AG NH AG: Freddie had never been good with emotion, it was trait he had passed onto both of his sons, his grandson - and right now, his heart was broken. He missed his son, he missed him more than he could ever put into words - and he'd failed him. This was just a confirmation of that. "You... you hateful woman." He hissed at Grace, his face screwed up with anger as he thought about the lies she'd told him for the past nineteen years. "I could have helped him! I could have - this could have all been FUCKING different!" He shouted, his voice booming across the room, the pain in it clear. He had never cried, not even at the funeral - but he felt close to it right now. "You let him grow up not knowing who his father is and LOOK at him! Just LOOK!" He shouted, pointing a finger at Noah. "He's his fathers fucking double and he's going the Exact. Same. Fucking. Way."

FH AH AG NH AG: Arlo moved his hand away at his mothers request, but it definitely hurt - she had never been like that with him before, he had always been able to comfort her. He felt almost shaken as she started to cry - he had no idea how to help her. "Dad..." He whispered, looking at him for guidance, for help. He looked up as he heard Iris though, realising what she was saying and nodding his head. He didn't know if Bridie would want his comfort or not, but he moved over to her anyway and slid his hand into hers, just wanting to give her something - someone, to hold onto. To take comfort in being there.

FH AH AG NH AG: Nancy nodded her head. "I know." She whispered, because she did - this changed nothing for her. Noah was still her brother; he was the one who had looked after her all these years, the one who she'd bickered with since she could talk, the one she looked up to. He was her brother and he always would be. She wasn't crying for herself - it was Noah she was crying for. Because he'd always felt like the odd one out in this family, the one who didn't belong. And all this time, there had been a reason - and their parents had hidden it from him. "That doesn't matter." She whispered to her dad, shaking her head. "You should have told him."

FH AH AG NH AG: Aaron knew instantly what Alba was feeling, what she was thinking and his heart broke for her - because he knew that there was nothing she wouldn't have done for Elias. If he asked, she would've taken Noah in herself - so why would he keep this from her? Why would she be one of the people he hid it from? He sighed and took a seat next to her, but he didn't touch her - he thought she would take physical comfort from him when she needed it and not before. He didn't say anything at all - he didn't have a place in this argument. He just wanted to be there for whatever anybody needed.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "It would've made a difference to me!" Noah roared because he didn't understand why she couldn't seem to understand that. "It doesn't matter what he wanted!" Noah shouted. "What about what I wanted? What I needed?!" Because he didn't think that anyone had thought about that. He didn't think that they had thought about how he would feel, how this news would devastate him. It was taking every ounce off his willpower to not burst into tears as he looked at his mum. "I needed him! All my fucking life I've known something was off. The way he would look at me whenever I spoke to Elias. The way you were with her and not with me. I knew I didn't fit in here. I knew it! And you just fucking let that happen. You could've made it all better! You should - You could've fucking TOLD ME!" He had never spoke to her before like this but he couldn't help himself. He couldn't keep his temper in check, his whole body was shaking.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Tears were streaming down her face as Freddie spoke to her. She had known he would hate her for keeping this from him and she had made that choice. Because it was either she lost him or she lost Elias. As it turned out, she lost both of them anyway. "What was I supposed to do, Freddie?" She whispered, shaking her head a little bit. She had no idea what she could have done differently. She didn't think she would have done it differently, even now. "Jude is his father. Jude! Your son, Freddie. He raised him. He is his father!" Because she didn't think that it was fair for him to keep dismissing everything that Jude had done for Noah. "No. He isn't. We are not going to lose another one."

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "No." Jude shook his head, "No, Nancy, we shouldn't have. That wasn't our decision to make. You knew your Uncle. You saw the state that he could get himself in. Would you really have wanted Noah to have been brought up around that?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. And then he heard his dad and he saw red. "HE IS MY SON!" Jude shouted as he turned to face his father. "Elias didn't want him! If it hadn't been me and Ava that took his in, then he would have been with some strangers. We took him in so that he could be with his family. WE are his parents! Elias was stupid. He made a mistake and me and Ava fixed that. We took him in. I won't apologise for that."

IS NG AH GH BS JH: It was the lying that Bridie couldn't get her head wrapped around. She didn't understand why she, Ava and Freddie had been kept in the dark with all of this. Especially after Elias had died. They had all been broken. Knowing that there was a small part of Elias around, that there was a part of him that was still there - she was sure that it would've helped. She squeezed Arlos hand gently as he took it. Because, if she would admit it or not, she needed the comfort from someone. She finished her glass of wine and instantly moved to pour herself another. She needed it.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Iris nodded a little as Nancy said that she knew. She was glad of that at least. She wasn't sure how she could help but she would be there for her, no matter what, She would do anything for Nancy. She sighed as Jude spoke to her, though. She thought that they were all being really harsh. She didn't think that it would help Noah hearing that he wasn't wanted.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Alba hadn't cried like this since they had lost Elias. It had taken her so long to stop crying after that, to pull herself together and now it felt like a double whammy. It was another reminder that her brother was gone. It felt, to her, like her relationship with her brother had been a bit of a sham. Shed loved him, she adored him. Alba would have defended him till the end of the earth and he had kept something so huge from her. She didn't know how to process that. "I don't understand." Alba whined, as she looked up at her husband. "I miss my brother." She whispered, her bottom lip trembling.

FH AH AG NH AG: The worst thing was, Ava knew that her son was at least partially right - he had spent his whole life searching for a reason as to why he didn't feel as though he belonged in their family and she had spent his whole life trying to convince him that he did. She didn't even have anything to say, she couldn't defend herself anymore - because if she could go back and change things, she wouldn't. She knew that. She jumped as Noah shouted, but she couldn't blame him. She knew he had every right to be like this, to feel like this. "I'm sorry." She cried, her words coming out in huge, heaving sobs. "I'm so sorry." She shook her head. "I have loved you from the minute you were born, Noah. You have always been our son."

FH AH AG NH AG: "I will never forgive you for this." Freddie told Grace - and the tone of his voice made it plain as day that he meant every word of it. He spun around as he heard Jude shouting, seeing red immediately. "AND ELIAS WAS MINE!" He roared, losing all self control, his voice hurting his throat as it tore out of him. "You should have convinced him! Because maybe if he'd had something to fucking live for then he would be here now!" His voice broke on the last words and his body was wracked with a dry sob. He felt like he was going to fall apart, he didn't know how to keep himself together. He would've done anything to keep his son around, to have him here with them. He had never been a very loving person, he'd never shown much love - but god, he'd had so much of it for his children.

FH AH AG NH AG: "Stop it! Stop saying that he wasn't wanted, that Elias didn't want him! He loved him!" Nancy jumped to her feet as she shouted at her father. She would always defend her brother, especially now. Especially when both of his parents were stood here saying outright that his biological father didn't want him. "Granddad..." She whispered as she saw Freddie start to cry, wrapping her arms around her middle as though to keep herself together. It was so scary to see all of the adults like this - especially her mum and granddad, who she had never seen like this before.

FH AH AG NH AG: As terrible as it seemed, Aaron could almost understand why Ava and Jude hadn't said anything after Elias died - because as much as people wanted a piece of Elias to hold onto, Noah wasn't that. He was his own person, not their little piece of Elias. He was already compared enough, he didn't need to be all that people had left. But he was never going to say that, he knew that it probably wasn't a helpful opinion to have right now. "I know you do Al, I know..." He whispered. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and he was about to, when he saw her dad start to cry. He knew without a doubt that she would want to go to him, that she would need to be there for him. He had never seen Freddie like this before and even as a grown man, it shattered his heart.

FH AH AG NH AG: Arlo felt relieved as Bridie squeezed his hand; just knowing he could be there for her made him feel like he was at least doing something to help. Because really, this didn't change a lot of stuff for him - Noah was still his cousin, he was still his best friend. But he knew it changed everything for his mum, for his granddad. For Noah himself. And that was the scary part, that was the part he was finding the hardest.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Even as he looked at his mothers face, as he saw her crying, he felt nothing but rage. He couldn't understand why they hadn't just told him. Even if Elias hadn't wanted him, he didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to know. He was never going to react well to something like this but he thought he might have reacted better if they had told him. "But I'm not." Noah growled at her. He knew that he was being harsh. Ava had been there for him his entire life. She had loved him for forever. Noah didn't know what to do as he looked around him, "I deserved to know. He was my best friend." He sat down again then, beside where his sister had been sat.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: As his dad roared at him, Jude found it difficult to keep his emotions in check, tears welling. He had tried his hardest not to cry in front of his children after Elias. The only person - after the initial shock of finding him - had seen Jude cry over his brother, was Ava. "It wouldn't have, dad." Jude whispered, his voice cracking. He didn't dare speak louder than that. "It wouldn't have. He was in his life. Elias had that relationship with him. He knew he was his son and it didn't - It didn't save him. Nothing would have." He shook his head and turned away from the rest of his family. He walked into the kitchen, needing a moment to be able to collect himself. He didn't want to break down in front of them. Not with his kids there.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "I know." Grace nodded as she heard Freddie. Because she did. She had known that when Elias had asked her to not tell his dad but she had done what she thought was right. Grace stifled a sob as she heard Freddie, as she saw him starting to cry. She wished that Gabe was there. She thought that he was the one that could make things better. She thought that, that was what he did best. "Freddie..." Grace whispered. She wanted to reach for him, to comfort him. But she knew that, that wasn't going to help anything. She knew that he didn't want her help. She looked around, helplessly. She had no idea what to do.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Iris sighed as Nancy started to shout at her dad but she knew that she couldn't blame her. She was almost glad that it was just her mum and her at home. She didn't have to deal with all of this. She texted Johnny, quickly, though. She quickly explained what had happened. She knew that her mum would need someone when they got home and she thought that he was better than she would be. She was really worried about her mum. She had thought that things were getting better with her - she hadn't had a blow out for over a month now - but Iris knew they would be back at square one, now. "Nance.." Iris whispered, looking back up at her friend.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: After Elias, Alba felt like she had lost herself. She was looking after everyone - her dad, her mum, Arlo. That was all she could bring herself to do and for a least a year after, she had lost herself completely. It just felt like she was getting herself back up on her feet and she was knocked back by this. Alba missed her brother every single day of her life but none more in that moment. Her eyes went wide as she heard her dad, as she saw him cry and she quickly got up. She scrambled over to him so that she could wrap her arms around him. She didn't know what to say to him but she wanted to be there. Her dad, Arlo and Aaron were her entire world. They were everything to her and she hated seeing him like this now.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Bridie looked up as she heard what Noah said to his mum. Although she wished that she knew, she would never let her best friend be on her own and her heart completely broke for her. She knew how much her kids meant to her. "Ava..." Bridie called over to her. She had no idea what she was going to do but she wanted her to know that she would be there for her.

FH AH AG NH AG: Ava's heart was completely broken, especially when he told her now that he wasn't her son. Her kids were her everything, they always had been - everything she had done from the minute they'd been born was for them. But she didn't think there was any way to make Noah see that, to get him to see past the lie they'd told to give him a better life. She didn't know what she was supposed to do anymore. She just stood and cried silently, tears rolling down her face - if Noah didn't want to be her son anymore, she didn't know how she would cope.

FH AH AG NH AG: Since Elias's death, Aaron had done his best to try and be there for the Hayes family - because he had seen it all. He had been around when Elias was good and when he was bad, he knew how much his death would rock the family and he'd tried to do everything he could for them. As Jude turned and walked into the kitchen, he looked to Alba - knowing she had her dad right now, he felt confident in not being there for a couple of seconds. He followed Jude into the kitchen quietly, putting a gentle hand on the other males shoulder. "For what it's worth, Jude. I think you did the right thing." He said softly.

FH AH AG NH AG: Freddie didn't know how he was ever going to forgive any of them for this. How he was going to look at them and not think about the fact that they had kept this from him, from Noah, for nineteen years. He hadn't cried for years, it wasn't something he did... But he couldn't hold it in now. He missed him so much. He regretted every single day of his life that he hadn't tried harder to keep him around. Freddie wrapped his arms around his daughter as she came to him, trying to stifle his sobs - even now, he didn't want to be crying. He didn't want them all to see him like this.

FH AH AG NH AG: Selfishly, part of Nancy wished this had just come out when it had been the four of them - their little family. Because she thought things might be easier that way, they might actually be able to process what had happened that way. But this... She didn't see how this was ever going to get better. She looked over to Noah as he said he wasn't their son, her bottom lip trembling slightly. Because if he didn't think he was their son, did he still think he was her brother? She watched for a second as he sat down, going to sit back down next to him. She just wanted to be there for him, whether he wanted her to be or not.

FH AH AG NH AG: Arlo really had no idea what to do - every adult he'd ever looked up to, everybody he'd seen as the strongest people around him were currently breaking down and he felt totally helpless. "What do we do?" He whispered to Iris, shaking his head. Part of him thought the best thing to do might be to try and get their parents out of there, to try and get them home where they could cope and grieve properly. But he didn't know if they would even listen to them, if they would want to leave right now. He had no clue how they were supposed to act, but he hoped Iris knew better than he did.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Noah had no idea how he would have reacted if this was with if it had just been the four of them. He didn't think that it would've mattered. As Nancy sat down next to him, he sighed a little. A part of him wondered if she knew. If Nancy knew about what had happened, what his parents had done. But it took one look at her face for him to know that, that wasn't the case. Noah placed his hand on his sisters knee. "I'm gonna go out, Nance." He sighed. "I just - I need to clear my head." He got up then. He didn't say a word to anything as he left the house.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Jude didn't know how to get his head wrapped around anything that was going on. He didn't know how to deal with it all. It was all such a mess and he really wished that things could be better. He didn't know what to do. As he realised that someone was behind him, Jude quickly wiped at the tears on his face. He had come into the kitchen because he didn't want anyone to know that he was crying. He didn't want anyone to see that. Jude shook his head, "I don't need your pity, Aaron." He knew that it was probably unfair of him but he didn't think that anyone needed to offer an opinion right now. "I know we did."

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Alba was relieved as Freddie wrapped his arms around her. She didn't know if he would. Alba adored her father. She had since the day that she was born. Her dad, Elias, Arlo. The love that she had for those three didn't compare. And she felt like she was losing the first of those three loves, after already having lost the second. "It's okay." Alba whispered. She didn't want him to feel like he had to keep it in. She thought that it wasn't healthy for him to let it all out now. She tightened her arms around him, wanting to keep him close to her.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Grace wanted to go home. She didn't want to be around this anymore. She had done the right thing. She wouldn't switch from that. But she didn't think that it was fair that it had all come out like this. She wanted to go home but she didn't think that her being the first to leave was the right thing. "Noah.." Grace called after him, as he walked out the door. She didn't know if him going was going to do any good. Because all Grace could think about was Elias, was how much something like this would've broken him. All she could think about was her son. Grace missed him so much and she tried to bury it most days. It was impossible today.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: This all felt too much, too overwhelming. She wasn't sure what to do but she knew that she had to do something. Bridie let go of Arlos hand then and moved over to her best friend. She wrapped an arm around her. "Ava, sit down. I'll get you some water." She was upset too but she didn't think that it was fair to cause her friend more heartache. She wanted to be there for her now. "Come on." Ava had helped Bridie through her worst states and she was going to do the same for her best friend. She had no idea where she could start but she wanted to try.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Iris shrugged her shoulders a little as she looked over to Arlo. She didn't feel like she had a place in all of this. Everyone was losing their minds but she didn't think that she would be able to make this better. Not right now. "Do you wanna go for a walk?" She asked him. She thought that they might be able to come up with a bit of a plan if they weren't in the room with everyone else. She didn't think that she could concentrate otherwise. She just hoped that the two of them would be able to help. She wanted to get her mum home but she didn't think that she would go.

FH AH AG NH AG: Nancy looked up as she felt her brothers hand on her leg, nodding her head - she didn't want him to go, she wanted him to stay so they could all work this out, but she knew he wasn't going to listen to anything right now. She didn't know where he could go though, where he would end up and that scared her so much. She reached out and took her grandmas hand as she called after him. "He needs to go, grandma.." She sighed, shaking her head.

FH AH AG NH AG: Aaron had never wanted to make Jude feel like he was pitying him, but he could see now how it had come across. "Of course." He said quietly, nodding his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't intend to - I just wanted you to know." He sighed quietly, standing for another moment before he turned and walked back into the dining room. "Grace, would you like me to drive you home?" He asked softly. He didn't think the other would want to be there anymore and he wanted to be able to give her an out, if she wanted one.

FH AH AG NH AG: Freddie shook his head as Alba said it was okay - to him, it wasn't. He still didn't want to be crying, to be this weak in front of everybody... Regardless of what was happening. He didn't take his arms from around his daughter though, he felt as though she might need the comfort as much as he did right now and he wasn't going to deny her that.

FH AH AG NH AG: Ava let out a shaky sob as she felt Bridie's arm around her, almost falling into her a little bit - and as she watched her son get up and leave, she felt as though she was going to crumble to the ground. "I'm sorry..." She whispered to Bridie through the crying, shaking her head. Bridie was right though, she needed to sit down and she reached shakily for the chair closest to her, pulling it out and taking a seat.

FH AH AG NH AG: Arlo raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected Iris to want to go anywhere with him, even after all of this - but he was never going to turn that down, especially right now when he really did feel like they probably both needed to clear their heads. He didn't know if it was selfish or not, leaving their mothers - but he didn't think they were going to be able to help here at all. "I'm going for a walk, dad..." He muttered to his father, looking back to Iris once the older man had nodded. "Ready?"

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Noah didn't know where he was going. He was just walking. He needed to have a little bit of fresh air, away from his family. Away from all of it. He couldn't be around it for any longer. He didn't know where he was going until he was there. He climbed the steps up to Mias place, knocking on the door loudly. "Mia!" Noah called. He really hoped that she wasn't with her boyfriend. He didn't know what he would do if she was with her boyfriend. He felt like he needed to see her now. He was desperate to see her. He didn't want anyone else to see him like this - he never had.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "He shouldn't be on his own." Grace muttered as she looked over to Nancy. She was so scared. What Freddie had said, about Noah being his father, had really gotten to her. She didn't know how their family would cope if she lost Noah as well. She really wanted to do something. As Aaron spoke to her, she sighed but nodded her head. "Yes, please." She looked to her granddaughter, "Do you want to stay here tonight? Or you can come and stay with us?" She asked her. She didn't want to pressure her. Grace knew that she would have liked that but she wanted her to know that she could if she wanted as well.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Jude knew that Aaron was just trying to be there and really - deep down - he appreciated it. He just wasn't sure how to express that. He couldn't get his head wrapped around everything, how this had all happened. For a long time, Jude had worried about this coming out. Every time that Noah got a new job or needed ID, he worried that someone was going to tell him that they weren't his biological parents and the thought of it crushed him. It was nothing compared to how he felt now, though. It was like he couldn't breathe. Especially because he had no idea if his dad would forgive him after this. He had no idea how things were going to be.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Alba pulled away from her dad after a few more minutes like that and she looked up at him. Tears were still streaming down her face, "I love you." She whispered to him. "I love you and Elias loved you and you -" She shook her head, "You are everything we could've ever wanted." She needed him to know that. 'He could have had something to live for'. The words from her father kept going around and around in her head. She didn't understand why her brother had felt so lost but she knew that her parents had done their best.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Bridie shook her head a little as Ava apologised. "It's okay." She sighed. She wanted her to know that. She needed her to know that. She thought that they could maybe talk about it a little while later, when it was just the two of them. She didn't see the point in piling on the pain for her best friend right now. It was clear that she was hurting enough. She helped Ava into the closest seat and kissed her forehead. She grabbed one of the glasses and quickly poured her a glass of water. "He'll come around. It's just the shock, Ava. You know how much he adores you."

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Iris hadn't expected her to ask him to go somewhere with her until the words were out of her mouth. She needed to clear her head though and, if she was honest, she only wanted to be with Arlo. "I'm just going to get some air, alright?" She called over to Nancy, a small smile on her face. She wanted her to know that she wasn't just abandoning her. "Call me if you need me." She sighed. Because to give her friend that option. She knew that her mum didn't need to be told. "Yeah, lets go." She nodded as she looked back to Arlo.

FH AH AG NH AG: Mia hadn't expected any company whatsoever tonight - she'd just been planning on studying. There were books laid out across her bed, her laptop balancing precariously on a pile of them and a cup of coffee on the bedside table. But for the last ten minutes, she'd been on the phone with Sebastian trying to get him to understand why she didn't want him to come over - although the studying wasn't the real reason. It had become more and more obvious recently that he was just a rebound from Noah and she felt awful about it, but he just wasn't seeming to see it. "Look, I really do have a lot to do and --" She paused as she heard somebody shouting her name. "I have to go, Penny's shouting me." She lied. She knew that voice anywhere, but she had no clue what he would want. She left her room and walked to the door, opening it with a confused expression. "What do you want?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

FH AH AG NH AG: "I don't think he will be." Nancy sighed, although that actually worried her a little bit more - she didn't know where Noah was going, but she didn't think he'd end up alone. She looked up at her grandmas offer. If she was honest, all she really wanted to do was go home to her student house, to cope with all of this on her own - but she didn't know if she'd get there and just feel immensely lonely. And then she looked at her mother. She looked to the kitchen, where her father was. She didn't want them to feel like both of their children had left them tonight. "I should stay here. Thank you, though." She gave her a sad smile.

FH AH AG NH AG: Aaron had really liked Elias - he'd thought he was funny, he'd seen how he cared about his family. When he was sober, he was a good person to have around. But he had also seen him in the bad times - he'd been there when he would go missing for weeks, when he would returned high out of his mind and not know where he'd been. He could never have been a father. He knew that. He nodded as Grace said she wanted to go home, reaching into his pocket to take out his car keys. "Al, I'm going to take your mum home. I'll come back and get you." He told her softly.

FH AH AG NH AG: Freddie nodded as his daughter spoke, although he didn't really believe her. In his heart, he knew he could've done more - he should have been stronger, he should have fought his own addiction so that he could help his son fight his. But he never had done, even now. "I love you too, Al." He told her quietly, kissing the top of his daughters head. Even though she was grown up now, with a family of her own - she would always be his youngest child, the one he looked out for the most.

FH AH AG NH AG: Ava shook her head. She wanted to be able to explain, she wanted to tell Bridie why she hadn't told her - why she'd kept this from her. Why they had never asked her to be Noah's godmother, because she knew that despite her not knowing he was Elias's son, she couldn't do that to her. "You know him as well as I do, Bridie." She whispered, shaking her head. "There's a chance he's never going to forgive us for this."

FH AH AG NH AG: Arlo grabbed his jacket and pulled it on quickly, not wanting to waste any time - he didn't want to give Iris a chance to second guess herself, to change her mind and tell him she actually didn't want to go anywhere with him. "Love you, everyone." He said quietly as he looked from his parents, to his grandparents, to his aunt, uncle and cousin. He headed out of the door then, waiting for Iris before he closed it behind them. "You wanna head to the park?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. It was where they would usually walk, he always found it a nice and calm place to be, especially at this time.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Noah knew that when Mia saw him, she wouldn't be happy. It probably wouldn't make sense to her. And as he looked up at her, he had no idea what to do, how to tell her what had happened. He stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out how he could put together everything that he had in his mind. And when he finally went to talk, his voice crack. The tears that he had been keeping in while he was around the others, finally came. Mia was one of the only people that he had ever let himself get this close too, who he would ever let see him cry.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Grace really wan't sure that what Nancy was telling her was the truth. She didn't know how they could help Noah. She didn't know how to help anyone. Grace knew that she hadn't ever been the best mother. She had, had a lot of faults but she was always there for her children when they really needed her. "Okay. Call if you change your mind." She moved over to her granddaughter and kissed her forehead. She went to say something to Alba, when she saw the glare her daughter was giving her so she decided otherwise. "Thank you, Aaron."

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Jude didn't know what to do. He couldn't get a hold on himself. His brother was dead, his son didn't want him around anymore. He had no idea what he could do. Elias had been his best friend. He had done everything for him .He had tried to help him as much as he could and it still wasn't good enough. Jude had never stopped feeling guilty because of that. And almost every time he closed his eyes, he saw his brother in his bed, already cold. He didn't know how to get that out of his brain. He had done everything he could and it was never enough. Not for Elias. Not for Noah. He felt lost.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: "Okay. I love you." Alba nodded as she glanced at her husband. She felt so lucky to have someone like him. She glared at her mum for a second - she didn't want to talk to her - before she looked back up at her dad. "Do you want to stay with Aaron and I tonight?" She asked him. "I don't think -" But she stopped her herself. She knew her dad. She knew that he wouldn't admit defeat, that he needed something. So she rephrased what she was going to stay. "I think I'd really need you there tonight." If it was something for her, then she thought he might actually do it.

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Bridie didn't know what she would have done with the information if Elias was still there. She thought that she probably would have confronted him, tried to make him see that having Noah could help. Because Bridie thought the same as Freddie. If he had something to live for, maybe he wouldn't have died. Bridie sometimes - fleetingly - regretted having Iris. If she hadn't had Iris, then she could have been that for him. She had that thought in her head now. "He will forgive you, Ava." She nodded, "He loves you. He worships the ground you walk on. You just have to give him time."

IS NG AH GH BS JH: Iris grabbed her jacket but didn't put it on. She was hot and she needed a little bit of cold to cool her down a little. As she fell into step beside Arlo, she took a hold of his hand. Things might not be all that different for him but she thought that it was probably still a massive shock for him. She just wanted him to know that she was there as well. "Yeah, sounds good." She nodded. Tonight, it was like they could press pause. Just for a little bit. Whatever was going on, they could pretend like it wasn't and just be them.