#and he passed his harrowing ridiculously fast

[arcane-gold]

i started origins again. this is pim. he was made to die

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Not a prompt exactly, but Fenrys filming drunk Lorcan being soft and silly with Elide and then showing him the next day

What Happens in Vegas... Part 2

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre - Answered Prompt

Elide and Lorcan wake up to find a video Fenrys took of their wedding ceremony.

Part 1 | Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

1658 words

*******

The first thing Elide noticed when she woke up was that her head felt like it was being crushed by a cement truck that was playing dubstep.

She groaned and then winced at the noise before turning to bury her face into the solid chest of the man lying next to her.

Lorcan wasn't any better. He felt like his head was going to explode if he moved too fast. But when he felt Elide press closer to him, he instinctively wrapped an arm around her, wincing, too, as the movement sent a wave of nausea through him. He used what little coherency he had to keep the stomach-churning feeling at bay.

They both slept restlessly for another hour before managing the harrowing act of sitting up. Well, Elide sat up. Lorcan tried to lift himself and deemed it too much work, so he threw his head back down into Elide’s lap, groaning as the movement made his head spin. She could hear a distant buzz that sounded like a phone notification.

Propped against the headboard, Elide took a steadying breath and slowly started to feel like herself again. She let one hand rest on Lorcan’s head while she ran her fingers through his hair and had the fleeting question of why she was wearing one of his earrings on her finger.

The buzzing kept coming and she saw her phone on the nightstand light up as message after message came in.

Wanting nothing more than a large cup of coffee, Elide grabbed her phone to see why she was being bombarded with messages. If the sound from across the room was any indication, Lorcan’s phone was also receiving dozens of texts. It made her pause a moment to wonder what the hell happened the night before.

The moment Elide opened the group chat, memories of the previous night flashed in her mind.

The casino. Drinking. Lorcan. A chapel. Elvis.

Oh gods. Elide looked down at the hand still in Lorcan’s hair and stared at the ring on her finger. Her pinky, not her ring finger, because it only fit on her pinky; she cringed as she remembered how Lorcan had removed his earring as an impromptu engagement ring.

Engagement ring.

Holy Hellas. Holy fucking Hellas. Engagement ring. Wedding. She and Lorcan had gotten married. In Vegas. By a fucking Elvis Impersonator.

She couldn’t stop the hysterical laugh that escaped her. This wasn’t a situation she ever thought she’d be in. She kept laughing even as Lorcan twisted his head and looked at her in bewilderment while groaning at the loud volume of it. She couldn’t help it.

Her laughter soon died as she realized she wasn’t freaking out. It was insane and impulsive and totally not like her to do that, yes—but it wasn’t bad. She wasn’t upset. When she thought about being married to Lorcan...her heart felt happy.

She smiled down at his face which had turned to press into her stomach as he wrapped an arm around her so he could use her to block out the light. The situation was unconventional, but so were they. And it made for one hell of a story

Elide went back to scrolling on her phone and tried to find the start of the messages from last night.

The first few were with Fenrys. It seemed she or Lorcan had called him to be the witness for their ceremony—why him and not someone else, she didn't know—and he responded immediately telling them not to say ‘I do’ before he could be there to record it.

And then he sent a video.

Elide shook Lorcan’s shoulder and waited until he grumbled something incoherent and turned his face towards her phone before pushing play.

The video was shaky but it clearly showed Elide and Lorcan standing in a chapel next to a man wearing an Elvis costume. Elide had Lorcan’s earring on his finger and Lorcan...Lorcan was wearing a veil pulled back over his hair. All the while Fenrys flipped the camera back and forth to show the couple and then his own excited face.

Lorcan’s arms tightened around Elide as he watched the video. He blinked once and sat up, rubbing a hand down his face, before looking pointedly down at her finger that still held his earring. When his eyes met hers again, they were worried. As if he was unsure what her reaction to all this would be.

“Did we…” He asked, brows furrowed,

“Yeah,” she nodded, glancing down at he finger again “we did.”

“We got married.”

“Uh-huh.”

“In Vegas, drunk off our asses, by Elvis?”

“Yup,” Elide answered with a ‘pop’ and finally let the grin that’d been aching to show itself, spread across her face.

Lorcan searched her face for any panic, but finding none, offered a small smile in return before resting his chin on her shoulder and gesturing for her to play the video.

“Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Elvis said, monotonously.

The Lorcan in the video nodded vigorously and replied “Yes, Mr. Elvis, sir. I want to make this woman my wife. Elide, El, ‘Lide, you are the coolest, most badass lady I know. Way better than Gala-what’s-her-face and more beautiful than...than..”

“Fenrys?” Drunk Elide suggested, giggling as Fenrys protested and shook the camera.

“Yes,” Drunk Lorcan agreed, “you are so much more beautiful than Fenrys.”

And then Drunk Lorcan lifted his hand and booped Drunk Elide on the nose, sending her into another fit of giggles.

Sober Elide was trying her absolute hardest not to laugh at the recording because Sober Lorcan looked like he was going to throttle Fenrys for getting evidence of this on video.

“And do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Elvis droned on.

Drunk Elide swayed as she laughed and then abruptly got herself back together before nodding. “I do. I do. Yeah, I take him to be Mr. Lochan. Mr. Lorcan Lochan,” Drunk Elide and Drunk Lorcan laughed while Sober Lorcan glowered and Fenrys hollered a cheer from behind the camera.

Drunk Elide kept talking. “Lorcan, I loooooove you,” she slurred the words, “I love that you’re a big ol’ grump to everyone but me, cause I’m adorable as fuck. And how when you hug me I feel like I’m wrapped up in the best blanket. And I really love your dic—”

Sober Elide snorted and Fenrys almost dropped the camera from laughing, effectively cutting off the rest of Drunk Elide’s vows.

“By the power vested in me, by Hunka Hunka Burning Love, I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may—”

Drunk Elide and Drunk Lorcan ignored the rest of what Elvis was saying, by pulling each other into a frenzied kiss. She had one leg hitched around his hips with his hands gripping her ass as her’s clawed at his back.

The camera suddenly flipped around to show Fenrys’ grinning face as he wiggled his eyebrows. “There you have it, folks. Mr. and Mrs. Lochan.” He grinned at something behind the screen, most likely Drunk Elide and Drunk Lorcan trying to stumble out of the chapel.

“Hey, man!” the sound of Drunk Lorcan’s voice echoed throughout the video as Fenrys narrated about him talking to a stranger passing by. “Have you met my wife?”

A moment passed and they could no longer hear Drunk Lorcan or Drunk Elide, but Fenrys kept grinning maniacally into the camera as he said “ Aelin, Rowan, you might have to give up the newlywed suite tonight!”

Then the video cut off.

Elide was quietly laughing as Lorcan groaned into her shoulder. He grumbled, “I am going to kill Fenrys. He sent that to everyone didn’t he?” And almost as an afterthought, he asked through clenched teeth, “Was I wearing a fucking veil?”

Elide couldn’t hold it in any longer and hunched over in a fit of laughter. “Lorcan, you make such a pretty bride.”

He growled and nipped at her shoulder. “Not funny.”

“Extremely funny.” She corrected and pulled the group chat back up. Sure enough, it was filled with responses.

“Rowan says 'Congrats, I hope you both have massive hangovers.'” She snorted at his next text, “'Aelin is pissed you ran off and got married without inviting her.'”

“Why did we invite Fenrys and not anyone else?” Elide asked.

“No fucking clue.”

She rolled her eyes before going back to the texts. “Aelin then writes 'I am so PISSED at you, Lochan, for not inviting me to your wedding! How can there be a ridiculous, Vegas wedding without ME involved....but congrats, I guess. I expect all the details once you and hubby sober up.'” Elide laughed, making a mental note to call Aelin after she has some coffee. “Then she sent a winky face and a bunch of eggplant and donut emojis.”

Lorcan grunted in acknowledgment.

“Aedion sends a thumbs up, and Lysandra writes 'My favorite part—besides Lorcan in a wedding veil, which will forever bring me joy—was when Elide talked about Lorcan’s dick.' And then more eggplant emojis.”

“Why are these people your friends?” Lorcan asked as he sat up again.

She laughed and caught the smirk on his face, “Don’t even try with that, Lochan,” she winked, “they’re your friends too.”

He rolled his eyes and snorted. “No, I am not going by Lorcan Lochan, no way.”

Elide laughed and got out of bed, finally noticing the piece of paper that had fallen to the floor. She picked it up and turned back towards him grinning.

“Lorcan Lochan, it has a certain ring to it.”

Lorcan just rolled his eyes but gave a small, resigned smile to his wife.

Wife.

Lorcan let a broad grin emerge as he thought about the diamond he had stashed in his sock drawer at home and realized that he’d get to replace the earring on Elide’s finger very soon.

*****

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[kustas]

finished samurai champloo do here is my attempt to keep my opinions about it brief. REALYL good show. im trying to find a playlist of the soundtrack in order bc the music in it is SO interesting like first of all obviously the hiphop and its used vv creatively but i also am a huge fan of that fast drum beat that i think they only used twice? both times mugen was fighting someone and its just a very interesting sound for both scenes, also thw whole show was visually soso beautiful and interesting and i want to eat it. u already said everything about mugens design but i also loved that jin's clothes were long and flowy and gave him a much larger shilouhette (not how thats spelled i think) which contrasts his restrained fighting style/persinality and also kind of fun bc of his like legend thats larger than him. fuu's design was cute and i loved her dagger i wish shed used it more but tbh i think more couldve been done with her than the constant kidnapping. i also really liked that the tonal shifts were natural and it changed between fun anarchronisms and zombies and like the harrowing inner life of the characters and the real struggles of the era. overall best show ive watched this year i think. now onto mind game

hello hi! Glad you had a good time! Champloo is such a ridiculously rule of cool show, it deserves all the good press :D

You are on point about the design for the leads, in the shape language and contrast and all those little details...:) About Fuu, she's a character I'm torn on. I love that she's a rare example of a teen girl character who actually feels like a teen girl, she's peppy and cute and kicks ass when she needs to and the writing of the show and other characters (even Mugen...lmfao) treat her like a person albeit an immature one. But her role in each episode...sheesh. it's one thing to talk about how sexist that era was because it absolutely was the case, but it doesn't do much with it. She's supposed to be the protagonist, her being the damsel in distress all the time got on my nerves and I agree way more could have been done with her. I really appreciated the episodes where she solved problems with her personality in ways the two guys wouldn't have been able to. But for how rare it is to have cool girls in shows...always dissapointing to see them become secondhand sometimes.

And about the historical stuff, the "real struggles of the era", I found that for a show that openly embraces "not historically accurate get off my tits" , it does a weirdly good job teaching about aspects of the time that aren't known about in the mainstream. Jokes on the writers, I guess! Even if it's mostly played for jokes, several episodes touch on the attempts at contact/colonization by Europe especially the Dutch, and I found the mystery around the rise of Christianity one of the most interesting parts when I first watched it.

As for the music....damn right it bangs. OP/ED alone are some of the best I know in anime. Was already the case for Bebop, but Watanabe has a thing for picking really good music and using it in slightly unconventional but awesome ways. If you haven't, I strongly recommend checking out nujabes, the artist behind the opening track. Unfortunately as far as I know he's not worked on other shows, as he tragically passed away only a few years after Champloo was released. He might be the one to have popularized chill beats especially among anime fans. I'll recommend my favorite track of his, Lady Brown, the sweetest love song I know :)... As well as another unrelated track that you might dig, kode9's 9 samurai, who's beat revolves around sampling what I believe to be a Kurosawa movie soundtrack. Bit off topic but hey that's the vibe with Champloo's writing too isn't it

Thank you so much for sending me your thoughts! I hope mindgame won't blast your brains too far out :D

[intheshadowofsignificance]

The Handmaid’s Tale is stretching my suspension of disbelief to the limit. Spoilers for season 4 below. It’s a wall of text so please be warned.

I can’t insert a cut on mobile so have some space to speed scroll away if you don’t want spoilers.

[[MORE]]

I realize the sheer implausibility of a lot of fiction is what makes it great. I respect the ability of writers to avoid pressure from fans to make everything perfect or explainable. That said, there comes a point where too much plot immunity starts to breakdown the fabric of the story. That’s what’s happening here.

First of all, is it just me or has Gilead gotten immensely soft in season four? I was physically uncomfortable throughout June’s capture scenes because I kept expecting things to get real gory real fast. I’m not complaining about the lack of it, and I understand especially after the recent episode that there are things which impact June much deeper than some of the physical torture ever could, but we are talking about a society who cut out Janine’s eye to make an example of her for talking back. A society that genitally mutilated Emily for being gay. June has lost Gilead several Marthas who will confess everything they know, dozens of their “precious children,” and she gets...waterboarded.

This woman has proven she’ll run away at the first opportunity and inspire a resistance wherever she goes. You’re telling me Gilead really wouldn’t get to a point where they cut off her feet? Burn them until they’re unrecognizable?

Another recurring theme that’s starting to show some wear is the whole “we can’t kill handmaids because they’re a scarce resource” followed almost immediately by killing them. I understand the train couldn’t have been stopped, but for the driver of the bus to start shooting to kill right off? Either handmaids are expendable when they become criminals or they aren’t. Side note: They made it way too easy for the handmaids to run, I’m going to give that somewhat of a pass because maybe Nick had a hand in it. Who can say? But I’m pretty sure I remember Emily being handcuffed at the wrists and ankles on her way to the colonies. They would’ve at the very least done that for fugitives who have run multiple times and resulted in the loss of children, aka leveraging power, and the deaths of countless commanders to this point.

Speaking of Nick, I’m pretty convinced we’re going to find out he’s leading his own secret sect of rebellion among officers headed for “the front.” The guy has, like June, gotten an excessive amount of plot immunity to this point to not have people acting as double agents with him. That kiss in clear view of the bus? You can hide a lot, but being that boldly involved with a traitor in front of witnesses, even if it had just been Lydia? Weird. Now maybe because he’s a man and a trusted one, Lydia’s word wouldn’t stand a chance against his. But there have clearly been rumors that Nick and June are romantically involved. It’s hinted at by other characters all the time and I assume is part of the reason he’s always hanging around when June is dragged back to Gilead. That’s the kind of thing that should, realistically, in a society as strict as this, put him on the wall. At some point Gilead has to be past the point of “making them wish for death is worse than death itself” because someone, somewhere is smart enough to know that, that ideology is going to be what causes them to crumble.

Another thing that’s bothering me: the accommodations of the Waterford’s as war criminals. I can overlook this because their scenes really are interesting and I’m invested in them as characters and in their inevitable comeuppance. However, Serena’s referenced involvement with Nicole or even the idea of her having any hope of it if she can convince a jury she was abused/manipulated/brainwashed is absurd. It has always been absurd that she had access to Nicole in Canada, but now that they have 86 other stolen children, even more so. Obviously they’re not going to send kids back to Gilead even if they’re the product of rape and one biological parent still resides there. They’re shown trying to place those with no relatives in Canada into the foster care system. So WHY are we even entertaining Serena having access to Nicole? This above so much else is implausible to the point of being ridiculous. Fred acknowledges Nicole is no more Serena’s than his. And I can’t help thinking they threw her pregnancy at us to help aid in Serena letting that obsession go. Because seriously there is no way to explain letting that woman be involved with June’s daughter in any way.

Aside from plot immunity, one thing that seriously hurts THT’s credibility is the lack of any sense of time passing. Nick repeatedly references going to the front but it hasn’t happened. If this was really Gilead’s doing would they waste time, and exactly how much has passed since the threat until the actual follow through?

Same way with June’s infected gunshot wound going from oozing pus and not really responding to minimal holistic treatment, to healed enough she can hoist Janine out of a train car.

There’s so much this series does right. The fabric of society is so deeply harrowing and tragic, the characters well rounded and engaging. I love the theme of June’s humanity being rooted so deeply in her maternal love for Hannah and the sense of protection she feels for the teens/kids suffering in Gilead as they are brutalized by grown men. I love that Fred sees through Serena and that they’re both so narcissistic and manipulative and unsettling to the core. I love that the writers know a lot of that existed before Gilead and that they’re both responsible for the way they’ve become as individuals and a couple.

I love that Moira acknowledges her actions are paved in guilt because she’s free and June is suffering. I love that the show doesn’t forget to acknowledge how many people are suffering for June’s choices in such complex ways, and that the alternative to that suffering is compliance or resignation, which is just going to breed more suffering. I love that we see Luke grappling with June’s choices and where they’ve left him too. I love that no one is really made to be a martyr. Deep down, there’s a piece of them all still wondering: what about me? Don’t I matter? Am I going to be okay? And no one really knows.

Having seen THT is renewed not just for the current season, but a fifth, makes me feel like they’re going to push the series to the absolute limit of believability and ruin what had been, despite questionable moments, an amazing run. I really don’t know how much more they’re going to be able to avoid maiming June, killing Nick and Lydia, and a hundred other things. We’ll see.

One of the big spoilers of the trailer was June getting to safety this season, no doubt during the last episode so they can rope us into season 5 where I am praying Hannah hasn’t “reached maturity” yet.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 11: Halloween

The shattered porcelain stank of dripping water still leaking onto the cracked tiles, and burnt out candles leaving the windowless room in virtual shadows made it hard to even identify for a moment they were still in Hogwarts, let alone in a girls bathroom.

"Is this Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" Alice asked, staying crouched where she'd landed underneath the loan intact sink that was still cracked as if something heavy had impacted it anyways.

"More importantly, what is that smell?" Remus grumbled, plugging his nose as it lingered and intensified rather than dulled in the room around them. He wanted to go over and blast the door open simply for a breath of air now more than just getting out for once.

He was ignored, though all of them had scrunched up faces for this fact as well.

"No, even that place isn't this destroyed," Lily disagreed in return to Alice, having to wade out of a particularly deep pool of water that had drowned her shoes and most of her lower half on impact. She had to nudge a broken pipe out of the way as she stepped out.

"Anyone else having the fear that crazy three headed dog somehow did this?" Frank asked, having to heave himself off of a toilet that he hoped was just filled with dirty water, though he couldn't blame someone otherwise if they'd witnessed this mess while being in here.

"I don't see that," Remus disagreed, prodding an obliterated bathroom stall with his wand and inspecting how it was clearly smashed apart, judging by all the splintered wood around yet no marks, from teeth or claws, in sight. He was also still breathing through his mouth more than anything, looking like he was panting slightly but only accomplishing at having his mouth be dry now and still tasting the air and somehow increasing the rank around him.

"Dumbledore's had that thing pinned up for a good few months before Harry found it," Sirius agreed. "Though I'm sure if something did change, I'm getting the feeling Harry's going to be involved in finding out what."

"Thank you for that encouraging statement," James sighed, his reflection in a shattered mirror showed how pale he'd been pretending he wasn't seeing all this.

Regulus had landed in half a cracked basin and shattered the rest of it beneath him, but he also didn't have the inclination to move away and towards the center of the room like the others did. He wasn't entirely sure that whatever had done this wouldn't be back any second to finish the job, and he'd rather not be in a crowd when that happened.

Peter finally found the book wedged into the wall that had the largest hole in it, and he stepped away from it just as fast back over to James to start reading rather than imagine what could make such an impact.

"Yes, Halloween!" Sirius whooped. "The one day a year we're all encouraged to eat candy!"

He bellowed this loudest of all in Prongs' ear, having noticed full well his eyes flipping to Lily in a panic. No one had forgotten the date earmarked for their deaths, but Sirius refused to linger on that and he was loath to let anyone else.

Remus gave him a sympathetic look, but thankfully attention was easily caught for all of them as the main portion of this chapter seemed to hold more chat of Quidditch.

Lily seemed the only one in protest of this, as she went down to the first and only undestroyed stall and leaned against the post, glaring at anything but Potter as he enthused over what he was calling a prodigy in the air. She wasn't sure how long it had been since all this mess had started, it already felt like days though she was sure it couldn't have been but a few hours. Yet clearly they weren't even passing in any normal amount of time frame anymore than locations, so who knew, maybe it had been years since she'd been out of his company already.

She wondered, if she'd somehow been forewarned this was going to happen, if she still would have bailed out of the experience though. As maddening as the boy was, and as goading as the news continued how much a future kid of his seemed to resemble him even without Potter being around, this was quite honestly the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen happen in her life.

While still unable to fathom why Sev was acting in such a detestable way in this future, she was now clinging to the idea there had to be a reason for this, something the school just didn't know but Dumbledore did for this behavior.

It didn't help the situation that Harry continued in a way she abhorred, her incredulity growing more by the paragraph someone had claimed her attachment to this kid. So far all Harry had done was follow Ron along in breaking school rules, and the moment he was done spending all his time thinking about Quidditch, he did nothing to deter his friend from making that little girl cry!

Harry had her sympathy while being oppressed at those horrid Dursleys, and he'd been perfectly polite but more quiet than anything around Hagrid while learning about this new world. Now though, there was no excuse but a child not wanting to deal with his problems he'd created just like his father as Hermione was just shooed from his mind as the Halloween feast was started. If he'd realized Hermione didn't have any friends than the very least he could have done after making her cry over it was offered an apology!

Of course, the arrival of the troll changed things just a bit.

"In the dungeon? In the dungeon!"

"I don't care what part of the castle it's in," Frank yelped to Alice, "it shouldn't be in the castle at all!"

"Wow," Black drew the word out far longer than it needed to be. "Wonder who on earth was stupid enough to try and get away with that!"

"Well it certainly wasn't Peeves," Remus rolled his eyes at the ludicrous suggestion.

Lily watched them all, growing paler by the second and wondering why there weren't screams in the background to echo the one going through her head for the fate of the student who knew nothing of this, but it was clear now Hermione hadn't lingered in their minds anymore than Harry-

"Oh my gosh, Hermione!" James yelled so loud he nearly startled Peter's ear right off.

"Crap, the little crying girl," Sirius agreed, dithering on the spot for a moment before making as if to go to the door right now, then he froze. They all did, as they looked around once again at the destruction around them, in a girls bathroom...

Alice said something quite to Frank's surprise, never having heard his girlfriend curse like that, but no one else really noticed as suddenly Peter was reading faster than ever. For once, James and Lily found themselves on the exact same page, standing on the tips of their toes and wanting to cheer Harry and Ron on as they went after her. Admittedly in a different method than she would have liked, Lily acknowledged, she didn't at all understand their need to avoid authority in their strive to get help, but she couldn't find it in herself to argue either.

The arrival of the troll on the same path as the boys did not come as much to the surprise as it should have considering what they'd realized, and any confusion or questions over the matter would just have to wait. It didn't matter how it had gotten up there, the opposite end of the school it had been reported. Who cared how it got in so long as it got right back out without killing a couple of first years!

Harry and Ron's harrowing pass through this place was like no experience they'd ever felt before. Each swing of the trolls club, every broken plaster around them seemed as if echoing anew, they could practically hear the kids screaming and were all wanting to duck down as well, as far away from this debris as they could.

Worst of all turned out to be Harry's impromptu plan to save Ron's life.

James had to fight the urge to tackle Peter to the ground and wrestle the book away from him. The news was too vivid, he could all to easily picture the little first year hanging off the neck, a wand being shoved up those nostrils. His friends could as well, Harry just too resembled his father in their mind and none of them would have idly stood by with that happening to him, so they all couldn't help the massive sigh of relief when Ron's spell worked out.

Peter could still feel his heart racing at the excitements end, Harry merely wiping his wands boogies away like it was nothing would have had him on the floor laughing any other time in his life, even the arrival of the teachers just couldn't mean as much.

The others were all so relieved in fact, and then more over shocked at Hermione's turn on all of this, Regulus felt he was the only one frowning in confusion at Quirrell's part in all this. He'd been acting pretty suspicious through this whole thing, declaring the troll was in the wrong part of the castle, and then arriving only to collapse at the sight of it.

The warning of this almost being over came, in hindsight, of not that much use, considering none of them actually had a way to brace themselves. Instead Regulus turned his attention to the thought he wouldn't deny that those kids were lucky to be alive, though the fact that Harry had made a new friend through the event felt honestly ridiculous. This kid sure had an odd track record, sharing sweets with one and saving the life of another.

[bornpariah-a]

@inquistior​ : !! and guard —— WORD PROMPTS

        Many times, as a boy, he submerged himself in the ocean. Inhaling deep before the descent, eyes open and unafraid / afraid : against his mother’s wishes. It sung, of course it did, eyes watering beneath the water as he drifted among the waves and currents on the beaches of his childhood estate, awed by the hush of it all. The noises of the city, of his parents beyond, of the crashing of the waves against the short were muted, here. As if the ocean were infinite and he, in return, were infinite.

        Falling is similar, he finds.

        In the metaphorical sense? In the literal sense? Yes, of course ——— of course. The rush and drain of adrenaline, the loss of direction, which way is up and which way is down, which way shall he land? Where will his feet meet the ground / or sky? ( in what sense? yes, yes : both. )

        Such a short distance to fall : to be vaulted, thrown, magickal energy forcing him back and / off. Not far. A tumble, short, but far enough to wind him and he stares at the sky in that odd crack in the ceiling for a moment, halfway betrayed in spite of himself. The crash that he creates is rather impressive, pained noise reverberating through the air and then abruptly dying as his staff clatters / as he breathes or, rather, tries to. Nearly succeeds until ———

        A shout of his name, loud and beseeching and / distressed? ( distressed, he thinks, inasmuch as three syllables in a singular sentence can sound distressed ) Drawn out yet truncated, concepts at odds, but it demands the breath from his lungs once more and he twists, set into motion, as if brought back to life, heart pounding in his ears as he scrabbles for his stave and then up and up. Running, rushing, cresting over, eyes darting and searching as if he had to search at all, as if his attention is not drawn to Halwn automatically, against his will, though it’s no great struggle against the fact. He looks to him, always. He’s looked to him, always : since he came running into the Chantry of Redcliffe, absurdly tall and broad and handsome, cast in green light as the world threatened to fall apart around them.

        It’s easy to find him ( hasn’t it always been? ) : standing in an approximation of where Dorian had been, as if he had been rushing to him or rushing to head off any enemies from getting to him, surrounded by their enemies ——— surrounded. Overwhelmed, he thinks, dully and rather absurdly, as he bursts into motion once more, magick gathering in the palm of his hand, the tips of his fingers, staff flaring as he throws a barrier, mind a mantra of protect protect protect protect protect / a moment too late.

        The earth shakes as Halwn falls. ( ... ) Too dramatic? Yet it does, or seems as though it does, or feels as though it does, and Dorian is so prone to dramatics. No matter how many times it may happen the sight is always startling / always harrowing, teeth greeting and that noxious mixture of panic—fear—fury—despair threatening to rise, bitter against the back of his tongue. A man who will one day become a LEGEND if he has not already is not meant to fall ——— yet a man is like any man is like any human and thus, breakable. At the mercy of Death, eternal.

        ❝   Halwn !!   ❞   his own shout tears through the air as that ridiculous sword falls to the ground, heavy and ringing. ( dorian tried to lift it, once, out of sheer curiosity and little else. he had gotten as far as grabbing the hilt and beginning to lift before making a vaguely disgusted noise and letting it fall to the ground once more / halwn had laughed, joyous and lax from where he was watching dorian, eyes bright and ——— loving. ) Magickal energy crackles in the air, heating the area to near stifling temperatures, enhanced by the Anchor which still rages in spite of its bearer being unconscious and DYING ON THE FLOOR ——— a will of its own. A thing of its own. Powerful and power and it’s easy as breathing to shove several enemies back, set others alight, pull at the Veil and summon fear unto them. The distance closes, heart threatening to burst from his chest ( heart lying on the ground ) and places himself squarely in front of him, chill of death pulsing through his body, brief, as he drags a corpse up, spirit embodying it as its blade swings.

        This battle has gone on for far too long, exhaustion beginning to pull at his bones as he harnesses arcane energy, spells flying. It shows in the others, as well. In their enemies, the whole of it flagging ——— Dorian summons barriers and firestorms and death and not quite Death and the sound of his own breathing is harsh in his ears. Over—loud. Near deafening, alongside the tripping of his heart, the rush of his blood, his bitter determination. He knows it’s not wise to lose his head in such a manner ; to scream at Death within the confines of his own mind such that YOU WILL NOT HAVE HIM echoes as if Death is listening to Its servant and mortal hand ——— but still he does, still he feels fright stab at the back of his neck, insidious and cruel, spells going sharp, fire burning too hot : the irrationality of love.

        He listens for the Veil / for the passing of spirits / for the dying of mortals. Almost compulsive, attention split, yet focused. you will live. you must live.

        Many times, as a boy, he submerged himself in the ocean ——— this is not so different. Noise muffled, vision distorted, eyes burning / battle ending, not quietly never quietly always loudly, a final scream, a shout, whether it be of triumph or despair as life is torn from yet another body left a husk, limp and falling to the ground, growing cold. A small head breaking the surface of the water with a sharp inhalation of air, sun baring down on him. Dorian twists and falls to his knees before fully comprehending the passing of yet another life ( and another and another and another and what’s one more, besides? ) and the impact hurts for all that he doesn’t care. Doesn’t care, as he yanks a lyrium potion from his belt and uncorks it with his teeth, downing it in one fluid motion. His eyes do not leave Halwn’s face as he drinks it, sharp and hateful on his tongue, blades dragging down his esophagus, mana flaring as he throws the bottle side, uncaring of where it crashes and shatters against the ground, far too busy placing his hands on either side of his face.

        He’s knelt himself over Halwn’s body, he’s dimly aware. Leaned over him, not quite thrown over, not quite lying over, but shielding. As if he were the final defense against ——— what? Death? That’s rather laughable.

        Magick pulses through his hands, warm and then far too hot, amplified by the Anchor flaring and he can see out of the corner of his eyes Halwn’s arm twitch / spasming : a thought for another day. Instead he pours magick into him ——— himself into him, not nearly enough mana replenished but still, but still.   ❝   Amatus,   ❞   displaced anger darkens his tone, gives his words teeth,   ❝   if you die ———   ❞   a pause / a break, unthinkable,   ❝   I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself,   ❞   as if it were plausible for this man to die.

        But all men die. Isn’t that the problem?

        ( he never thought of how loving something which Death can touch could cause him such ——— well. that’s a blatant lie. he has loved things which Death has touched and it had hurt and hurt and hurt and honestly, you’d think he would’ve learned his lesson by now. nearly had, were it not for that damned smile. )

        Eyelashes flutter, a slip of green, a hand weakly curling around his wrist, pulling at his hand as if to say stop. Stop. As if he knew Dorian were on the dregs of his mana, pulling and pulling and pulling at reserves that were nearly tapped / not that he CARED, Dorian is frequently contrary for the sake of being contrary and the rush of RELIEF which nearly chokes him is more than enough for him to shrug off the pull and continue. Continue, until those eyes opened fully, utterly, and gazed into his own once more ( ... )

                     (    he says :            i’m tired, my love.                           and he says :     i’ll carry you home, beloved

                         i’m home, i’m home, i’m home, i’m home.    )

        ❝   Festis bei umo canavarum,   ❞   he press his thumb against the corner of Halwn’s mouth, nonsensical as Tevene slips from his mouth, the full and utter and barbed realization that he had nearly died for him a bludgeon to his throat. Something that he had known the moment he heard his name shouted, distressed, enough to force him into movement despite how winded he had been. How winded he still is, breaths coming too fast, a hand pressed against his chest : breathe. Breathe, my love. The weight of that. The weight of sacrifice. The weight of love.

        ❝   You ——— absolute fool,   ❞   the words are ground, chewed between his teeth, remnants of what remains of his heart in his chest as he cradles Halwn’s neck, pulling him to sitting up, foreheads pressed together ( weakness, a show of weakness ), magick beating between them, still.

        He closes his eyes. And breathes / submerged beneath the ocean.

[razorblade180]

Partners

Jaune:*sitting on a bench thinking*

Oscar:Hey Jaune *sits next to him* what’s up.

Jaune:Nothing, just thinking about some stuff; things from the past.

Oscar:Is it the fall of Beacon?

Jaune:*nods* lately it’s been the only thing on my mind again. I thought I’ve moved passed it but something is still bugging me and I can’t really explain why.

Oscar:Which part about it?

Jaune:The way things ended. We lost yet, I feel like there’s more to it. I’m surprised we’ve been bouncing back as fast as we are.

Oscar:That is a good quest-

Jaune:Oscar?

Oscar:Yeah, sorry. I think I kind of got like a Ozpin memory? Something about this conversation seems very familiar.

Jaune:Really? Can you remember specifics.

Oscar:Hmmm, I don’t think so.

Jaune:*sigh* That’s unfortunate.

Oscar:Not exactly; if it’s an Ozpin memory then-

Jaune:I don’t feel like talking to him. Besides, isn’t he hiding in your head.

Oscar:I have feeling this is a conversation he’d want to chime in on. If this is really bothering you then shouldn’t you try to figure it ou.

Jaune:.....*sigh* I guess you have a point. Oz, can come out?

*no response*

Jaune:I promise not to yell.

*eyes glow*

Ozcar: Hello Mr. Arc....

Jaune:I take it you heard my problem already?

Ozcar:I have, I gotta say I’m not surprised something like this troubles you. You were one of the brighter students when it came to tactical planning.

Jaune:Is that why your memory was triggered; it’s something about the school?

Ozcar:Indeed, the subject we’re talking about is something I teach personally to students that are nearing graduation. Something any team should consider if they decide to stick together.

Jaune:What would that be?

Ozcar:Tell me, if a team finds themselves in a dire situation with every step to get out of it risky, who should take the biggest risk?

Jaune:.......that’s ridiculous

Ozcar:Already know the answer huh?

Jaune:Of course I do; it’s the team leader’s partner but I don’t understand why. *irritated* Why would you even teach such a practice?

Ozcar:Experiences; almost everything taught at Beacon comes from my many lifetimes on Remnant. That one is no exception.

Jaune:You’re basically putting values on every member. Deciding on who’s most important.

Ozcar: Values are something every member has; every life is important.

Jaune:By your logic though you’re saying Pyrrha was the best choice logically to have gotten killed on my team....

Ozcar:Logically, but at the end of the day it was an unfortunate and wrong.

Jaune:That’s not the only thing you’re wrong about; if anyone should’ve risked their life it’s me.

Ozcar:I disagree completely.

Jaune:What makes you so sure about that!?

Ozcar:Can you honestly say we’d be where we are now if you would’ve died instead? Do you even think she’d take a mission like after you’re gone?

Jaune:...

Ozcar:Jaune, leaders shouldn’t take the most dangerous risk in dire situations. They’ve been taught to rally people and think calmly for those situations. If they die then that team loses that core and the connection that’s bonded them for years under one leader.

Jaune:But why their partner. It would devastate them.

Ozcar:It will, but the leader has also been taught to be strong for the team cause they’re all like family. The second in command has trained with the leader constantly; learning both some of the leadership and tactical planning. They take the dangerous job because they have the skill set needed to do what needs to be done on a smaller scale.

Jaune:It would be extremely risky for them to lead the team and the people on a major if they never really had to before.

Ozcar:Not to mention the stress of them trying to keep themselves together after losing the one calling the shots. Some never bounce back.

Jaune:That was gonna be me, I’m only here because of Ru-

Ozcar:*raises eyebrow* i see you’re getting it.

Jaune:I bounced back because of Ruby; another leader. Is that why you chose me to lead? Why you encourage teams to find at least one other team to interact with?

Ozcar:Leaders inspire other leaders to to do better. In return, that motivates their entire team. You should know this; make no mistake, Ren and Nora are here because you are. They admire their leader and follow him.

Jaune:Despite all that it is still horrible to make a choice like that.

Ozcar:That’s because it is. At the end of the day no one wants to lose a friend to those circumstances. So you know what the leader should do?

Jaune:*sighs* Create the most full proof plan to protect everyone for the benefit for all as best as you can . Aim for the best solutions even on the most harrowing of quest.

Ozcar:I’m truly sorry for what happened that day, but don’t think of it as just a regrettable night. Learn from it and preserve next time as a stronger leader.

Jaune:....*contemplating* I’m gonna think about this a little more.

Ozcar:Take your time. *leaves*

Jaune:......

Ozcar: I know you were listening to that.

Ruby*appearing* Do you really think that was best thing to tell him right now?

Ozcar:Mr.Arc is a man of great emotion and logic. He needed information in order to understand his feelings about the situation. Even if he disagrees with me his mind will have at least been put to ease; I’ll take whatever I can from that.

Ruby:*looks worried*

Ozcar:What’s the matter?

Ruby:It’s your hypothetical. What if...the same scenario happens but with two leaders.

Ozcar:It’s no longer a case of value. They’d both try risk their lives for the one the other out of admiration; or in some cases....out of love.

Ruby:*nervous* What...would be the right answer?

Ozcar:Love doesn’t have a right answer. It’s just choices; hopefully they end up working in the end. *walking away*

Ruby:Where does that leave you?

Ozcar:......

Ruby:You’ve made those choices before. Don’t you regret any of them?

Ozcar:Of course I do; not all of them work out for the best. Love doesn’t always work out for the best always.

Ruby:....Do you wish you could go back? Make the logical choice over love?

Ozcar:That’s the thing about fighting Salem Ms. Rose. No matter how many regrets I have, if I had the choice to rescue her from the tower I would.

Ruby:You’d....do it again?

Ozcar:Of course I would; in many ways she was my partner. Nothing on this planet will change that; it might have been brief but it gave me a feeling I wouldn’t trade. I guess that’s love. *leaves*

Ruby:No right choices huh? * looking at Jaune* ours will work out; I just know it.

[caelysiiium]

ma lumière

Eliott sat across from Lucas as he tried in vain to finish the last remainder of his assignment. The former must’ve noticed his restlessness because he fucking smiled, igniting a fire in Lucas’ heart even as he glared up at Eliott. “You’re distracting me.”

Eliott leaned closer, that fucking smile still on his ridiculously beautiful face. “Am I?”

Lucas scowled, blushing. He reached out to push his face away but Eliott caught his hand in his, intertwining their fingers and pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “You’re adorable,” he said.

Rolling his eyes, Lucas closed his textbook, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get anything done right now. Without letting go, he stood and walked to Eliott’s side of the bench. Eliott swung his legs around, facing Lucas and pulling him closer until he could wrap his arms around his waist. “Isn’t this a much better alternative than studying?” he murmured, tilting his head back to look at Lucas.

Instead of answering, Lucas brought his hands up to Eliott’s head, combing back his unruly hair. He cupped his hands behind Eliott’s neck and leaned in to kiss him. And just like the first time, the moment their lips met made his whole body sing.

“Oh my God, stop it.” Arthur sat down in Lucas’ former position on the other side of the bench, Basile and Yann plopping down on either side of him. “You guys are so disgustingly in love it’s annoying.”

Eliott twisted his head around to give them a bashful grin as Lucas flipped his friends off. He dropped down next to Eliott, who slung an arm around his shoulder to keep him close.

Basile began recounting, in excruciating detail, what happened last night with him and a girl. Eliott, ever kind, listened attentively even as Lucas gave Yann and Arthur an exasperated look.

Basile still wasn’t finished when the bell rang, calling them back to class. He leaped up from his seat to follow Arthur and Yann into the washroom, hands flailing in excitement. As their voices faded, Eliott waited patiently for Lucas to gather his things and took his hand when he was finished. They walked towards the S building, chatting quietly about nothing and everything. When they reached the doors, neither of them wanted to part.

Eliott trailed his fingers up Lucas’ arm to rest on his shoulders. “Dinner at my place tonight, yeah?”

Lucas looked up at him and nodded. Eliott searched his face and tentatively asked, “Will your mom be joining us? My parents are dying to meet her.”

“I think so. She’s been looking forward to this,” Lucas said.

Eliott’s grin was happy and wild; Lucas’ breath caught in his throat. The past few weeks have been so harrowing for both of them, it was euphoric to see how well Eliott was doing. He knew there were going to be good days and bad days—but they would take them as they come, knowing that every storm will pass and they will emerge stronger because of them. Today, however, was a good day, and Lucas was cherishing every single moment of it.

So he linked his arms around the taller boy’s shoulders and pulled him down to kiss him. Eliott’s hands tenderly cupped his face and they backed into a column, mouths opening sweetly and eyes shutting in bliss. Lucas wanted to skip the last half of the day so fucking badly, but with the BAC coming up fast he knew Eliott’s absence from his classes would cost him. He pulled away, leaning their foreheads together as they caught their breath.

“You finish at four-thirty today, right?” Eliott nodded. “I’ll wait for you at the L building, then.”

Lucas heart warmed at the way his boyfriend’s eyes lit up in excitement. He rose on his toes to give him a final lingering kiss before heading into the building. They kept their gazes locked on each other, mouths barely holding back smiles as their intertwined fingers held as far as they could between them. Just before letting go, Lucas said, “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“See you, ma lumière.”

Whatever Lucas had been thinking flew out of his head as he blushed, hands dropping down to his side. Eliott winked at him and turned, striding away with his hands in his pockets.

[etherian-affairs]

Infant Redistribution Initiative

Oh no it's garbage girl (Mirak) time because every time crimson posts art of her I have to write a ficlet. Stick with it because the ridiculousness ramps up as it goes.

The ultimate mission was upon the Horde United. Cass had recently informed Tim and Mirak about a Force Captain she used to be stationed under who she really really did not like and who really really did not like her. Mirak and Tim immediately decided that clearly what is needed is to teach this man a lesson, and maybe get some of his current underlings to defect.

Cass was against this plan but she got outvoted. She could have gotten a tie but a certain new recruit named Sam refused to cast a vote.

Now Cass was glaring at the curly haired brunette. You could have stopped this Sam.

Mirak meanwhile didn't care about any of that nonsense. No. She has a plan.

"Alright soldiers." She says as she sits down at their little meeting table. "Here's the plan..."

...

The Horde's eastern front forward medical camp was positioned far enough away from the front lines to avoid attack usually. Not today though. No today the weather was bad and Mirak was ready to move.

The entire place was built in and around a large town hall that once belonged to a since conquered people in the region. The exterior was a maze of tents and triage gear while the interior had been converted into something approximating a proper medical facility.

Mirak, Cass, and Tim all sneak in under the cover of an ongoing storm. Sam stays back to watch their escape and also they didn't have a place for him in the infiltration plan itself. Once inside the camp they initiate Phase Two. Doctor impersonation.

Cass takes the lead here. She looks the most like a doctor. She is stern and serious looking. Tim will be playing the role of Nurse as that is traditionally a job for lizard men and stereotypes are useful for infiltration missions.

Mirak is of course far too conspicuous for either role so she will be playing the part of the patient. Placed onto a gurney with a bundle of vines over her face and a sheet over her body. Her mask and goggles make this perfect since the vines won’t actually irritate her nose or mouth or eyes! The idea is to tell anyone who asks that she’s the victim of a princess attack. 

Cass wanted to just take a wheelchair but Mirak insisted the gurney was necessary.

Her modified stun baton, now with a cool grip for easier ranged use, is of course tucked neatly between her thighs. 

Phase Three is perhaps the most harrowing part of this plan. They must locate the target within the main building. Getting past the guards goes smoothly enough but if they spent too much time wandering aimlessly in the cloth hallways that have been setup in the place they will surely be discovered. 

The target is, obviously, a newborn baby. The child of the Force Captain they are in fact here to make pay for his crimes against their comrade Cass. The mother is expected to be with the baby. This is a no casualties mission, which Mirak wasn’t initially a fan of but Cass insisted that if they’re going through with this nonsense they don’t hurt anyone. Especially babies. So Mirak reworked her initial plan to account for the no casualties modifier.

The mother and baby are located near the back of the facility in a little side room that has been set up for the Force Captain and his mate. Father is nowhere to be seen. As expected, he should be doing rounds at this time of the day. 

Mirak has been watching this place for a couple of weeks now. Despite all evidence to the contrary she is in fact meticulous.

When they enter the room the woman looks up from her baby, confused. “I’m sorry I think you have the wrong room...” she notes as she looks at the gurney. 

“Think again!” Mirak suddenly shouts as she sits up and points her stun gun at the woman. The mother looks horrified!

“This is the worst thing anyone has ever done...” Cass mutters. 

“Hardly.” Mirak replies, a grin playing on her mouth under her breather. “Tim! Retrieve baby!” 

The Lizard Man walks over and looms over the mother, looking back and forth between mom and child. They’re both satyr types. “Request pacification of mother for baby retrieval.” he says curtly.

“Wait!” the mother suddenly shouts. “W-who are you?! Why do you want my baby!?”

“We’re the Horde United.” Mirak declares with a smirk. “And we’re here to save that baby from Hordak’s enslavement, and also because we don’t like its dad!” 

“I’m so sorry about this.” Cass mutters.

The mom looks down at her child, up at the trio in here. “I don’t like his father either...” she speaks quietly. “But I won’t let you take my baby.” Her voice is hard, determined.

“Understood.” Mirak replies, still holding her weapon to the woman. “Tim... retrieve mother and baby. We will be taking both.” 

Lizard Man Tim nods and picks up both mother and child! “Family retireved.” Tim declares. “I am now a dad and all around family man.” he adds.

Cass has stopped commenting and only stares at all of this in some mixture of bewilderment and horror. The mother looks too shocked at all of this to do much of anything. 

“Brilliant. Transfer family to my protection on the gurney.”

“Affirmative.” Tim lays the woman down on the gurney, facing the same direction as Mirak, who herself now rolls over to hold an arm over the woman and her baby, readying her weapon in the other. 

“Okay this is the escape part. Hold onto the baby because if we’re spotted at all we’re gonna start sprinting. Well, Tim and Cass are. Me and you will be on the gurney.”

“I’m sorry. Did you know she would join us? Is that why we brought the entire gurney instead of the wheelchair?” Cass speaks up, realizing this entire plan might be more insane than she ever realized.

“No time for questions Cass! We have to go!” Tim declares as he tosses the sheet back over Mirak and the mom. It’s so very conspicuous now. Then they’re on the move! Nurse Tim pushing the gurney quickly through the facility! Mirak looks at the woman under the sheets. Her expression completely unreadable due to her mask and goggles.

“The dad was really mean to Cass so we came to take his family.” she whispers.

The mother nods slowly. “He’s not a good man.” she whispers back. 

Suddenly a guard shouts at them. “Hey! You two! What are you doing?!” 

“Gotta go fast.” Tim suddenly declares and the gurney picks up speed! Tim is sprinting! With those powerful lizard man legs! 

“Check this out.” Mirak suddenly says as she tosses the sheet off of them, propping herself up and over the mother and baby to shield them and immediately starting to take eerily accurate shots at Horde personnel they pass!

On a lower powered stun setting of course. No casualties and all that. Next time though Mirak gets to cause casualties, she’s not going to budge on that.

The woman starts screaming when the guards start firing back at them. The baby cries. It’s all really loud. 

Cass manages to grab a weapon from a guard Mirak disabled and joins in on the covering fire as they run! Soon they burst out of the main hospital building and make a hard left to go down their planned escape route! 

“STOP!” A large booming voice calls out from behind them! Mirak sits up on her knees on the gurney, straddling the mother and turning to face the voice. It’s the Force Captain! A large human! He’s charging after them and looks generally sort of displeased. 

“GOT YOUR BABY!” Mirak screeches back, cackling as she scoops the baby up from the Mother with one hand and holds it up to show him. 

The Force Captain stops in his tracks, wide eyed and shocked. He doesn’t order fire on them. He can’t...

...

“So we rescued this mother and her baby from the Horde and brought them here!” Mirak declares proudly. They’re in Plumeria. “We decided that as far as redistribution of infants and their maternal parent go Plumeria is probably a better location than our hideout! You have food.”

Perfuma looks shocked and horrified, just nodding slowly. “I see... Um...” she turns to the woman. “Are... are you okay?” 

“I... I am... yeah. Mirak had been observing us for awhile and... figured out that things weren’t great... at the base.”

Mirak places her hands on her hips. Triumphant. “Standard Infant Redistribution Initiative procedure! When a child’s familial framework is detrimental to their development they are to be retrieved and redistributed to either an approved family or facility to ensure that they will grow into a productive Horde citizen!” She also wanted to make the Force Captain suffer but Perfuma doesn’t need to know that. Her Madame once told her that the best way to get something other’s don’t want you to have is to make it seem like you are helping them. 

At the time Mirak of course countered that shooting them was probably the best way but now days she’s seeing the merit of those words. At least when underlings demand no casualties in missions. What a ridiculous thing to want.

“Except... you know not for the Horde here.” Tim interjects. “Because... the Horde is evil.”

“Yes! Hordak’s Horde is evil!” Mirak sort of agrees.

Perfuma nods slowly. She probably should not have shown such hospitality to these clearly insane soldiers. 

[thephoenix-hq]

☞ NAME: Edgar Bones. ☞ AGE: Twenty-One (08.01.1958). ☞ BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood. ☞ HOUSE: Former Hufflepuff. ☞ GENDER: Cis-male. ☞ FACECLAIM: Jessie Usher. ☞ TRIGGER WARNING: Drug addiction and overdose.

+ THE STORY SO FAR +

Edgar and his twin sister, Amelia, grew up in high society. Their father worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, their mother a cultural journalist for the Prophet. Due to the high demand of their careers and the incessant need to supply their children with superficial goods, the Bones twins were almost entirely brought up by their house elves. They lived in a gated community in a muggle neighborhood and spent more time with their non-magic neighbors than those inside their own community. That’s not to say that they never saw them at all. The Bones were regular attendants of society balls and ministry galas. It was all out of expectation more than desire. In fact, the best memories Edgar had of wizards growing up weren’t the parties or the frequent absence of his parents. It was the holidays. They never missed a big holiday. They’d pack their bags and spend the week at the McKinnon’s manner in Inverness.

Edgar enjoyed it because he was surrounded by a family who loved each other deeply and therefore loved them, too. There were six boys of varying ages, one that was his age, one that was only a year or two older, another that was about three years younger, and Marlene - who was two years or so his junior and could rough it with the best of them until she was about thirteen and suddenly became a ‘proper girl.’ It was something Edgar cherished endlessly, feeling slightly jealous of them only when it was time to leave and he was reminded in an instant that he wasn’t actually related to them. In Hogwarts, Edgar quickly found his love for late nights and sneaky endeavors. By his fourth year, he was already known around Hufflepuff house as the resident play boy. Over that summer, his muggle friends taught him the ways of various street drugs and his fascination was almost immediate.

While in school, it never posed a problem. He would be in classes by day, get his work done over dinner, and finish out the night in any way of his choosing. Edgar somehow had an endless supply of wizardly party favors that, magically, went unnoticed by the professors entirely. It wasn’t until after school that the obsession started to become harrowing. He didn’t have to work. His parents allowed him to live in their empty house, Amelia left for a travel year, and his muggle friends were still in school for another year or so. He could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. The desire to stay Up became frantic and desperate - until one night in late February when everything went south, fast.

- J U N E 1 9 7 9 -

It had been three months since the night that changed the course of Edgar’s life. Staying focused proved much harder than he could’ve imagined and his days had been filled with meaningless busy work, just to stay grounded. Albus Dumbledore showed up while Edgar had been trying to build a bench the muggle way. Frustrated, covered in dirt with a wrench in hand, the sight of his old professor had been both surprising and welcoming. When Albus explained the situation to Edgar and asked him to join the Order of the Phoenix, he immediately agreed. It wasn’t so much about the cause, though he had never had the same mindset as his pureblooded comrades at the society parties, but the undeniable ability to stay focused wasn’t something he could pass up on.

← C O N N E C T I O N S →

← Amelia Bones

Growing up, they were the only thing standing in the way of a completely lonely childhood. With the frequent absense of their parents, Edgar and Amelia relied on each other. Being the more mature one of the two, Amelia always tended to take care of Edgar. For a while, he thought it was simply their dynamic. It’s how they worked and neither of them minded it. He started to see the weight on Amelia’s shoulders as they grew older, though. Taking care of her brother wasn’t something she did just because anymore. She did it because she felt like she had to. When she returned from her year trip to Paris, he could see how much happier she was and it suddenly made sense to him. He had been the weight. After that, he told himself he’d stop causing her such trouble but it didn’t happen right away. Edgar continued to struggle for a while, each morning Amelia seeming to pick him up off the ground and right his wrongdoings. She hadn’t been back for very long when he started hiding from her, not letting her see when he was in such a state. That night in February, he managed to get himself to Saint Mungo’s. He check himself in, got himself cleaned up, and made a promise to himself that Amelia would never find out. He asked to live with her after that, along with the promise to stay clean, and she had happily taken him in. Has since been living in London with her and Marlene.

→ Sirius Black

Edgar wouldn’t necessarily consider himself a dealer. He didn’t try to sell it, but if someone came to him looking for a way to get their hands on certain things, he usually had it and wasn’t opposed to making a little bit of his own money. Sirius Black, when he wasn’t clowning around with his mates, would be found within the same circles as Edgar - both during school and later on. They weren’t necessarily close, but they knew each other. In fact, Edgar was almost certain Sirius had been there the night he almost met his demise. There was too much fear that Amelia would find out about it to ask.

← Gideon Prewett

Edgar knows what happened. Dumbledore told each one of them the story when he asked them to join. A set up led to the death of Fabian Prewett. Even days later, Edgar had been left thinking about it. What would he be doing if Amelia had been murdered in the same way? A boiling rage filled him at the mere thought. He would likely be seeking endless revenge. He couldn’t imagine a life without her. Edgar felt the pull to check on Gideon, be his friend in some way, but he could also feel the irritation that radiated off of him in violent waves. Gideon didn’t like Edgar and Amelia. Edgar couldn’t blame him, really. It must’ve been incredibly painful to be around other twins, the constant reminder that yours was absent in your face.

→ Emmeline Vance

There was a feeling in the back of Edgar’s throat that he hadn’t experienced before. His usual activities were growing heavy, like he didn’t want to do them anymore but he kept finding himself in the midst of a cloudy room anyway. The feeling started as a lump that he couldn’t swallow, but shortly it grew painful. It was burning his tongue, making it swell. The lump felt like it was ticking and twitching in his esophagus. He gasped, realizing that he hadn’t been breathing. The feeling evaporated immediately, leaving behind a tangy, cotton feeling. He relaxed, laughing at his own ridiculousness. But then he felt his heart skip a beat. Then it was racing. He realized he was sweating profusely, his vision blurring in and out of focus. His stomach was churning, brain pounding in his skull. He couldn’t feel his fingers or toes. The realization hit him all at once. Edgar was overdosing. He wasn’t exactly sure how he did it, but he made it to Saint Mungo’s. His memory was failing him but he knew he had smashed his knees on the concrete right outside the emergency room. A mediwitch, who had been outside smoking a pipe, dashed over to him and helped him to his feet. There was sick down his front; had he thrown up? Edgar lost consciousness somewhere between those first few steps and actually getting into the hospital. When he awoke next, he was in a room he didn’t recognize. There were bright, florescent lights above his head and a pale healer he recognized stood over him, her fingers checking the pulse in his neck. That healer had been Emmeline Vance. They had never been close, but he knew her from school and he begged her not to tell anyone what had happened. She agreed to keep his secret as long as he promised to stay sober. This spurred an unlikely friendship that met weekly to talk about what he had done since they last saw each other. He needed those meetings. They gave him something to focus on, someone to impress.

EDGAR BONES IS CURRENTLY CLOSED FOR APPLICATIONS.

[littlereyofsunlight]

Goodbye, Dreamland (part 2)

Part 1 was posted earlier today. Catch up before you read the end!

Fic: Goodbye, Dreamland Pairing: Steve/Peggy Rating: T+  Summary:  Steve and Peggy take a trip to Coney Island in an alternate-timeline in which Peggy is brought to the future and Ultron never happened.

“You don’t think the Cyclone will make you queasy this time, do you?”

Steve shook his head. “I haven’t had any problems with my stomach since the serum.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Not that I’ve been on a roller coaster since then, but the way Nat flies the Quinjet has to count as a thrill ride sometimes.”

Peggy had only been up the one time when Natasha was flying, but she really couldn’t fault his logic.

“Well then, let’s go. I never did get to try it out on my last trip.”

Steve felt a familiar churning in his gut as their car rattled its way up the steep incline, but when the brakes released and they shot down the first hill, it unspooled into a pure rush not unlike what he felt when he got to jump from an airlift. It turned out, Peggy really liked roller coasters. It felt dangerous, the way the old wooden car careened over the tracks, slamming them from side to side on the curves. Beside Steve, Peggy screamed her delight and he gave an answering “whoop” when they crested the next hill.

“That was absolutely brilliant.” Peggy’s eyes were bright and her color high when they finally came to a stop.

“You liked it?”

“I’ve never felt anything like it!”

Steve smirked. “You should try jumping out of a plane sometime.”

She rolled her eyes and smacked him on the shoulder. “Yes, but no one was shooting at us here.” She smiled wide. “We’re going again.”

They rode the Cyclone two more times, and then did the Soarin’ Eagle, the Wild River, the Steeplechase, and the Thunderbolt. Peggy suggested the Slingshot next, but Steve steered her towards the Raceway instead. Steve liked to tell the story of how Peggy had been relieved of driving duties after a particularly harrowing escape through the Alps with the Howlies piled into the back of a troop truck. Now when he told it, he’d be able to add she was still hell on wheels even when the car was miniaturized. They did several circuits before Steve was able to pry her out of the driver’s seat, and then he only managed it with a promise of funnel cake.

The funnel cake vendor also sold fried Oreos, so Peggy insisted they sample those, too. Steve tried one Oreo, pronounced it “interesting” and then demolished his own funnel cake—they’d each ordered one, in deference to Steve’s advanced metabolism and Peggy’s legendary sweet tooth. Peggy agreed that the fried cookies were a strange confection, but she wasn’t about to let chocolate, even the inferior American version, go to waste.

Hot, sticky, and lightheaded from the combination of race car exhaust, waning adrenaline and far too much sugar in their systems, they agreed to take a break on the Wonder Wheel so they could take in the view.

When their car reached the full fifteen stories, the Wheel shuddered to a stop. Peggy leaned close to the cage, the better to see out past the boardwalk to the flat expanse of sand, crowded with Saturday beach-goers and all their gear, despite how late it was growing. “We should have brought our bathing suits, the bay looks perfect from up here.”

Steve looked over her head at the same view and felt a sudden swooping in his stomach. “Oh,” he said, quickly looking away.

“Something wrong?” Peggy turned back to him.

In an instant, Steve felt every last one of those one hundred and fifty feet between himself and the solid ground. He grabbed onto the seat divider in front of him as he inexplicably felt like he might lose his balance, though he was sitting down. “Uh, I guess I’m not used to just hanging out in midair.” He tried to laugh it off. “Maybe if I were chasing down Hydra, I wouldn’t notice how high we are.” His stomach gave another worrisome lurch.

Mercifully, they started moving again, and the feeling receded as they got ever closer to the ground. “Are we—” before he could get his question out, it was confirmed. They were going around again. Steve whipped his head around in confusion as the car sailed right past the ride workers and began a second ascent, and with it, his churning gut.

He closed his eyes and tried to control it by inhaling through his nose and exhaling slowly through his mouth.

“Oh darling, I didn’t realize it affected you so much.” Peggy had a little smile on her face as she shifted closer to him and put a hand high up on his thigh. “I’m sure we can think of some way of distracting you until the ride’s over,” she suggested, a sultry note in her voice.

“Oh,” he said, keeping his eyes trained on her hand so he wouldn’t catch sight of the view outside their little cage. “Uh.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time lust had turned him ineloquent, so in the aftermath Steve had to admit Peggy wasn’t exactly in the wrong for leaning in to kiss him at that moment. It was, however, not what Steve was trying to communicate just then.

The ride worker took one look at the mess Steve had made and heaved a sigh so loud Peggy was fairly sure people heard it in Queens. “I’m so sorry,” Steve murmured, actively willing himself to shrink back to his pre-serum size out of sheer mortification. Peggy said nothing at all, and she wasn’t quite sure if it was the shock or anger fueling her silence.

Once she was clear of the ride, Peggy made a beeline for the nearest restroom, holding the hem of her blouse out so the damp portion didn’t stick to her torso. Luckily her reflexes were still as fast as they’d been during the war, or it could have been much worse. Steve followed her, hoping there’d be a nearby spigot. At the time, he hadn’t been thinking about moving his feet out of the splash zone. He supposed he was lucky a day at the beach called for flip-flops.

There was no possible way she’d get her top clean enough using only bathroom soap and a hand dryer on its last legs. Peggy wasn’t about to walk back out into the fray with a giant stain on her shirt. Grinding her molars together, she reached into her bag and pulled out Steve’s souvenir.

Steve tried his best to hold in his laughter as Peggy stalked out of the rest room in the ridiculous shirt he’d never intended for her to wear, but the juxtaposition of her thunderous expression over the artificially inflated body drawn on her torso did him in.

“You seem to be feeling better,” Peggy bit out, shaking her hair out from the neck of the t-shirt. She crossed her arms over the horrible cartoon.

He wiped at his eyes and nodded. “I’m so sorry, Peg. I really didn’t know that would happen.”

Peggy sniffed. “You’ll have to make it up to me, Rogers.”

“Anything.” He looked especially penitent in the light of the setting sun.

She stretched her neck and let out a breath. “I think a very stiff drink is in order so I can deal with the double humiliation you’ve put me through.”

“You don’t want to go home?”

“We haven’t seen the fireworks yet, Steve.” She looked at him as though he’d suddenly lost all higher brain functioning.

Steve made a face. “Really? Even after—”

Peggy laid hands on him and turned him in the direction of Ruby’s Bar and Grill. “We came out here to experience all Coney Island has to offer. That includes fireworks,” she said through grit teeth. “Now, until said fireworks appear, we’re getting me a drink, Captain. You owe me.”

The boardwalk in front of Ruby’s was a crush of people trying to enjoy a beverage or ten that hot summer evening. Even though the sun was setting, the heat of the day lay heavy over the beach, a wan breeze occasionally providing slight relief. Steve waded into the crowd while Peggy hung back at the edge. Some time later he returned with two drinks in hand. She raised her eyebrow. Steve didn’t drink unless he was trying to be sociable, and they’d long passed the point in their relationship where he felt the need to keep up the pretense.

He shrugged. “I’m just holding this one while you finish the first. No way am I going back into that madness.”

“You’re making great strides towards getting back in my good graces,” Peggy smiled.

Steve grinned back at her. The crowd pressed in around them and the air felt stagnant, close, too humid and warm. He tipped his head in the direction of the aquarium, up the boardwalk. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yes please.” She gulped down her drink so they were only sneaking one adult beverage out of the bounds of the bar, then followed Steve as he cut a path through all the people milling around.

Eventually the crowds thinned out as Peggy and Steve made their way down the wide walkway.

“So this whole neighborhood used to be pretty upscale,” Steve said as they passed the housing project buildings in the distance. “Back when they called the waterfront attractions Dreamland. Then it went up in a fire.”

Peggy quirked her lip. “Much like our day.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, “it was pretty much the opposite of what was advertised.”

There were hardly any people down this end, the revelers sticking close to the bright lights of Luna Park as they awaited the evening��s show. Peggy drew Steve over to a bench, and they relaxed as twilight gave way to nighttime. Though it was steamy, Peggy sat close to him, with Steve’s arm draped across the back of the bench.

“Sticking to the beach might have been a better plan,” Peggy said eventually, watching the water lap against the sand.

“It’s not the cleanest one by far,” Steve said. “And it’s always so crowded.”

Peggy let her head loll back against his shoulder. “That’s all part of the experience, though.”

“Yeah, part of the experience used to be running naked into the surf, so, you know, we won’t be repeating that any time soon.” He scratched at his neck, which was finally beginning to heal now that the sun was down. It was itchy.

“Were you here often?” Peggy asked. “Before the war?”

Steve shrugged. “My health was usually better in the summers, and doctors kept encouraging me to ‘take the sea air,’ which, sure, that helped some. But me and Buck definitely got into more scrapes out here than I care to admit.” He rested his chin against her hair. “We had a lot of fun.”

“Do you think he’ll come in from the cold one of these days?” She’d missed Steve’s run-in with the Winter Soldier, but it not the effects it had on him. Even now, he would rush out if Sam or Nat brought in word of a credible sighting. But Sergeant Barnes didn’t want Steve to find him. Not yet, at least.

“I hope so.”

“Me, too.” She did, though she was afraid of what it could mean for Steve if it happened.

He looked down where their hands were linked in his lap. “Just can’t seem to shake the bad memories out here, huh?”

“They aren’t all bad, though, are they?” Peggy bit her lip.

Steve kissed the the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of sunscreen and Peggy’s shampoo. “It was pretty great seeing you go to town on those milk bottles at the shooting gallery,” he smiled into her hair.

Peggy chuckled. “The look on your face when that boy asked if you were Thor!”

“I was flattered.”

“Naturally.” The breeze finally picked up, and Peggy took the opportunity to snuggle in closer. “So, maybe a good day after all.”

Steve cupped her chin, gently tilting her face up to his. “Not all bad.”

And, as they kissed, the fireworks show began. As far as cliched days at Coney Island went, both Peggy and Steve had to admit this one was pretty great in the end.

[theroyalwords]

Teen Olympians, Ch 31

-Apollo-

He was going to lock her up. That seemed like the only way he could keep Cas safe.

She ran off once again, leaving the stupid school to do some kind of ridiculous magical errand. She kept saying that it was nothing, that she could see when they would attack, but something in his gut told him differently. Cassia was taking risks, risks she shouldn’t have to chance with an immortal by her side. Apollo was good for something after all. He couldn’t fight the other pantheon, but his presence would scare a good number of them off. But he couldn’t do that when the girl who needed protection ran around like a hunter seeking the Tessumian fox.

The bell rang signaling the end of the day. Apollo went straight to Cas’s locker hoping that she made it back in time. The only thing at her locker was a note that had her now familiar writing on it. Apollo moved it from the slats and tore it open.

You need to stop worrying. I’ve snuck around for years now. By the time you will read this, which should be around 3:15, I’ll be back at the apartment. You can yell at me there.

-Cassia

He made the letter vanish between his hands, turning it to a fine dust that scattered in the air. Since his family had split to do whatever they needed to do today, that meant Apollo had the ride home to himself. It was relaxing, letting the windows down and driving as fast as he wanted. No mortal cops would pull him over. While most of their magic had been limited as part of their punishment, he still had power over mortal minds. That and disappearing whenever he wanted to make avoiding mortals easier. Apollo hardly had any quiet time in his existence, so when he got it, he used it. It gave him time to think about Cassia. Part of Apollo kind of admired her tenacity. She stood up to him without any fear, which was rare from a mortal.

Maybe he was approaching it from the wrong way. He didn’t want to yell at her like her parents did. He understood that the path she chose was the best option, but it still left him wary. It only takes a thought, less than a mere second for the future to change.

As soon as his chariot was parked, Apollo vanished and appeared before the door that led to his study. The wards wouldn’t stop him or Artemis from appearing. He gave it a quick series of taps before letting himself in.

Cas was staring at the wall with his arms crossed over her chest. It was covered in notes and pictures, many of them the security measures she had spent the last week researching. She plotted out how to get past all of them. Her planning was as close to flawless that a mortal could come up with something Athena even noted. Apollo had offered some suggestions, which she took in stride. Even Artemis, although begrudgingly, admitted she was good at coming up with a game plan.

“Just so you know, I didn’t even see one Egyptian while I was out today,” Cass explained as she added a note to the board. She held a crystal in her hand, which she carefully set on the shelf below.

“Is that what you had to leave to get?” Apollo asked as he nodded his head towards the crystal.

“Yes. It will help fuel the spell to lift the disorientation enchantment. Getting hit with that would royally suck and most likely be the thing that kills me.”

“You should have told me.”

“Told you what?”

“That you were leaving the school with no protection.”

Cas glanced towards him before rearranging some of the notes. “I did tell you.”

Apollo rolled his eyes. “Yes, you mentioned it in passing and the next thing I know, you’ve vanished from class without a goodbye.”

“I had a window that worked to my advantage. It would have been riskier if I waited.”

“That doesn’t matter, Cassia.”

“It does matter. There were no possibilities as long as I went in that window,” she huffed. “It was the safest option. I’m not a child, Apollo. I know what I’m doing.”

“Wrong. There are always possibilities. You are putting too much stock in your visions lately. The future can change at any moment.” She turned towards him then, her brows raised.

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Cassia heaved a long sigh. “I do. Believe me, of all the mortals that are involved with immortal shenanigans, I probably know it the best. I’m not going to change my life and stay scared because of small possibilities. That’s what makes life worth it.” She paused for just a moment and looked down at the floor. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Apollo took a step closer to her. There was barely a foot of space between them. Apollo knew that Cassia could and would take care of herself. She was smart, resourceful, and beautifully determined. She looked up at him, her eyes focused on his face. Her expression was neutral, but there was a tension in her eyes that Apollo hadn’t seen before. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I get that. I want you to take care of yourself. I don’t want you to take unnecessary risks when you have help available.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? Every day is a risk until I get this accomplished.”

“You could take me with you.”

“Why would you do that? I already told you, if the Egyptians find out you are helping me, they will involve your father. I’m not risking--”

Apollo placed his hand against her cheek, stopping her mid-sentence. A blush crept up underneath his hand, making the couple of freckles she had stand out.

“I’ll take that chance. I know how to be covert when I want to as well, Cas.”

“If Zeus finds out-“

“He won’t,” Apollo swore. “Check me if you don’t believe me.”

Cas studied his face for a minutes before her eyes drifted close. Apollo could sense the chaos behind them, the never-ending visions colliding the future with the now. Her eyes squinted just a bit before opening to that violet expanse.

“It’s almost impossible,” she admitted quietly. “It’s a small chance if you go with whatever you are thinking of now.”

“Exactly,” Apollo agreed. “I’m not asking you to stop, Cassia. That would be like telling a volcano not to erupt when it clearly is. But you do have power, far more than you know. That makes you a target. I’d like to see that potential start to grow. But you need help sometimes. I’m asking you to take mine.”

Cas stared at him for a moment, her teeth worrying against her bottom lip. Apollo was almost surprised she wasn’t drawing blood.

“You think I have potential? That sounds an awful lot like you want to keep the insanity inside my head.”

“Do you want your visions completely gone?” Apollo thought he knew the answer, but Cas hesitated. There was something hidden in her expression, anxiety or fear, he wasn’t sure which.

“As much as I hate them, I’ve never been without them. It’s been a part of me for so long, to not have them…”

“It would feel like a part of you was missing.”

Cas nodded her head. “I just wish people would believe me. Is it all or nothing? You remove my curse by taking away my gift?”

Apollo sat down in one of the chairs near his desk. “It’s one option, yes. But it is not the only option. It would be the safest, though.”

“Like cutting off a dead limb,” she mumbled. “I don’t want that.”

“Then, that option is off the table. I’m going to try to get you what you need. Let’s get the Egyptian pantheon off your back, and then we can discuss the possible ways to reverse it. I don’t want to unknowingly make it worse.”

“That would be bad,” Cas admitted with a grin. “I think we make our move in three days when the full moon rises. Can I walk through the plan with you?”

“Let’s hear it,” Apollo stated. He hoped that whatever she came up with wasn’t the most dangerous way, but knowing Cassia Woodard, she would make it as harrowing as possible.

[zaraegis]

Come at the King!au|Part  6|T

Fandom: Cuphead

Pairings: Ride or Die QPP Wheezy & Dice

TW: some small violence, being an Emotionally Mature Person and Apologizing

Notes: After the Events of Cuphead, everyone’s gotta deal with the aftermath

Prev| First |Next

After all the harrowing Casino fights and the loss of all the Inkwell Island soul contracts, Dice pauses only briefly before coming into the Devil's Office. He's a straightforward kind of guy, when he's not rigging everything he can in his favor. Dithering in front of a door because he lost horribly isn't his style.

The man himself is in there, ice pack on his head and a horn missing and the most pissed off Dice has seen.

His fur is matted around his eyes. Did those cups make him cry?

"YOU."

"Yes, boss?" Dice replies brightly, determined to not lose his own frayed temper over being beaten up terribly like some common civilian.

"Worthless lackey, why do I keep you around if you're not going to stop a couple of snot nosed brats from making off with whatever they want?" Ouch. But admittedly deserved .

Dice opened his mouth, already thinking of ways to spin this, even while being aware of his chipped head and unimpressive black eyes. His boss cuts him off, on a roll.

"I know what you can do Dice" The Devil's tone changes, something dark and knowing that makes his hackles rise, "What I want to know is why you didn't do everything in your power to stop them? Is this what you wanted? For the casino to become a laughingstock and-"

The knife that sprouts centimeters from the Devil's pointed ear chimes dully as it vibrates from the force. It's stuck fast through the layers of wood and cloth. The Devil can see his own angry red eyes in it's metal.

"Be very careful Boss." Dice quietly says in the sudden silence, hand still outstretched. "About what you say when you're letting your temper get the best of you."

The Devil feels his fury banking at a wave of wariness. He might not be up to another fight so soon, especially with someone as dangerous as his manager.

Dice, with a blank expression, reaches slowly into his suit and pull out a familiar creased paper. He sets it gently, terribly terribly gently, on the desk between them.

It's his contract.

Gut churning, the Devil will never admit he near jumped out of his skin as Dice slams one gloved hand besides it.

"If it pleases you Boss, I would like to remind you that my contract clearly states that you hired a manager, NOT a mercenary "OF SOME KIND"."

What used to be a passing joke between the two of them is now tarred with the contempt dripping from Dice as he near shouts the last bit.

The Devil has never heard King Dice raise his voice.

They stare each other down and Dice huffs and turns on his heel, shoulders stiff and contract left behind on the mahogany surface. Before he reaches the door the Devil speaks up behind him, voice quiet and tired.

"Are you quitting?"

"I dunno. Am I fired?" Dice shoots back. He doesn't bother to slam the door, point made.

-

Outside he's met with the wide eyes of the casino employees. He rolls his eyes and quietly commands: "To the staff lounge room with you all, there's a meeting."

They all disperse quickly, everyone silent and straining to hear any more noises from the imposing door to the Devil's office.

There's nothing.

-

"You all have the week off. Rest, and heal up. You'll get a bonus not to worry." He mentions when he sees Mangosteen open his mouth. "Hazard pay if nothing else."

He'll make sure of it, even if he's booted from his job.

"As for the souls... I wouldn't put it past those two brothers to come back up in a rage if we make anymore deals in the casino. But..." He smiles slyly, "Plenty o' people come round to make legitimate deals with the Devil for their souls. That's not something they can have a say in, I wager."

They're quiet and everyone is conspiciously NOT mentioning whatever they may have heard of him losing his temper. They're all quite decent coworkers really, compared to others he's had in the past.

He might miss them.

"What about the Big Boss, Mr. King Dice?" Chips finally pipes up, blunt and willing to say what everyone else is wondering. Dice very pointedly does not frown.

"He's...taking a break too I suppose. I'll check back up on him after this, to make sure." He idly glances at Pirouetta, the previous manager and closest to the Devil himself. She inclines her head at him.

It either means that yes, he should check up on his boss or yes, she will lay some lovely flowers on his grave. It's always fifty-fifty with her.

"-and Chips. It's just Dice now."

The silence got even more oppressive. Oh dear, that wasn't what he was going for. He shakes his shoulders out to soften his rigid stance and smiles ruefully.

"They sold their souls, and they beat all the Casino employees, myself and the Devil. That means my title is theirs now." It stung more than he thought it would, saying it outloud.

Nearly half his life's accomplishment, gone in the wind.

Chips is picking at the lasso he keeps at his hip, worrying the frayed strands and not looking up as he mutters.

"That's gonna be mighty strange. Ain't callin' no two bit bums off the street Kings though." Pip and Dot make assenting noises.

Dice feels Wheezy's absense keenly at this moment.

"Don't worry boss," Hopus cackles, it's really the only way he talks, "You'll always be the king of my 'eart!"

They all break into hooting and hollering and raucous laughter and Dice actually guffaws at their ridiculousness. The tension fractures at that and they all begin chatting with the same ease as the day before.

Pirouetta comes up to him, a tellingly reserved air about her. "Wheezy won't be joining us today?"

It's said casually, but her eyes lock onto his and Dice feels his shoulders straighten back up.

"Yes." He answers finally, not allowing himself to look away. "I got some apologies to make first though."

Pirouetta nods sharply at him and he feels like he dodged a bullet. Before she swans off, he gently catches her elbow.

"You wouldn't happen to know where I can get some cinnamon would you?"

She smiles.

-

He does stop back at the Boss's office. It's empty and dark. One of the imps that hangs around tells him the Devil's gone to ground back to Hell.

Where mortals like Dice can't tread. Typical.

Oh well. He'll give him a week before Dice storms the Underworld after his wayward employer.

He's got some apology breakfast to make.

-

"Hey."

Wheezy startles at the sudden voice in his suite where previously he thought he was alone. Dice sidles up to him and sits besides him on the sofa. He doesn't turn to look from where he's cradling the little beat up cigar demons in his lap.

He'd never been one of the casino fighters before. Always the one to stand back and watch Dice make mincemeat out of anyone who thought they could win back their contract. Always the one to help patch everything and everybody up.

The little guys were the Devil's, but Wheezy took care of them, kept their little flames flickering and swept the ashes they left everywhere.

It was easier than he thought to fight. Even young ones like those cups. The adrenaline pumping made his reservations about violence wick away and he found it so easy to spit out the fire he's held back since he knew what those flames could do as a child.

That frightened him more than anything.

"So. You might be right about the winning thing."

He turned slightly, to show he was listening.

Dice looked at him, not allowing himself to obfuscate or hem and haw around his apology.

" 'm sorry, Wheeze. I shouldn't have kicked you because I got mad at someone else." He huffs out a breath. Does it make Wheezy a terrible person that he enjoys the pained grimace on his friend's face? Probably. But it does make him feel better.

"I won't do it again."

"Won't you?" Wheezy quietly asked. Finally turning to see Dice, serious and beat up.

"I'll show you. I won't."

Wheezy presses their shoulders together. "Alright."

"Alright?"

"Yeah. You look ridiculous by the way, have you iced your face?"

Dice pulled a face, "I had to go throw a knife at our Boss this morning, ain't had time."

"What?!"

Dice waves him off, "Don't worry it didn't even scratch him."

Wheezy is well out of his funk now, jolted into familiar exasperated worry. Why was his friend such a blockhead?

Dice squinted suspiciously at him, and opened his mouth to call out Wheezy on the blockhead comment he could probably feel when they were interrupted by a knock.

Mangosteen popped his head in, hilariously too big to fit in entirely in the doorway without ducking. "We've got the stuff boss."

Dice jumped up and made his way to Wheezy's kitchen, Wheezy incredulously as the entirety of the casino staff paraded into his suite carrying a bevy of delicious smelling dishes to the dining table.

"What is all this?"

"Breakfast," Dice exclaimed, way too satisfied for someone still missing a tooth, and started rolling up his sleeves.

Wheezy had to give in when Pirouetta stopped at his side and raised a single eyebrow.

Breakfast sounded good.

-

"I was always afraid you know," He tells Dice, in the aftermath of breakfast. They're washing dishes while everyone else seems reluctant to leave, lounging around his living room and exclaiming on the goings on of Hell out the window.

"Of what?" Dice questions, both of them slowly getting used to one another again in the wake of their not-fight.

Wheezy shrugs. "Someone coming after you while I was there. Me not being able to do anything about it really."

He really wasn't prepared for one of his worst fears coming true in the most spectacular fashion. He had to watch some upstarts beat up his friend and know there was nothing at all he could do.

He just. Wasn't enough.

He wonders if Dice lives with this fear, all the time. Fear of his past catching up to him, clever deal with the Devil or no.

Dice stops and looks down at the cup he's scrubbing. Idly turning it this way and that.

"I think," he starts slowly,"That you might be the only one to want to have my back when they do come for me."

He looks up, the lighting making his face seem haunted,"Thank you."

Wheezy doesn't know if Dice realizes he always says "when" and not "if" while referring to his past. Like it was inevitable and the Devil himself could only stall it despite everything.

That was too much for Wheezy to think about right now.

"Well," He clears his throat and everyone else’s conversation filters in between them once again. "At least this whole mess is over with now, ey?"

Dice laughs and lets the cup sink down into warm soapy water.

-

The first hitman finds him the next morning.

[maychorian]

Weekly Voltron Fic Recs #51

Still not caught up. Here are about thirty new fics, I think. A lot of them are like popcorn: small, fluffy, and easy to chow down on, but some are much more meaty and intense.

Rules: You can find past weekly rec lists here, and non-list recs in my general fic rec tag. Also follow @maychorianrecs for individually tagged posts, the easier to search and reblog. This is stuff I like, and I have a huge bias toward Lance, hurt/comfort, and general fluff, in that order. Gen unless otherwise noted. Please comment on the fics if you read and enjoy them!

The Mane Event by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) Words: 7,572 Author’s Summary: Shiro and Ryou are de-aged by Castle Malfunction ™. It takes a village to raise a child, and it takes a pride to keep the twins entertained. My Comments: Deaged fics always make me RIDICULOUSLY happy, and this is a two-for-one! Lance is also adorable in this one, finding a fun way to keep the twins entertained and comfy, and Allura gets in on the shenanigans in a very sweet and personal way, too. This fic is definitely a happy place.

Empty Night by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) Words: 5,250 Author’s Summary: From the Chicago Yellow Pages: “Takashi Shirogane – Wizard  Lost items found. Paranormal Investigations. Consulting. Advice. Reasonable Rates. No Love Potions, Endless Purses, or other Entertainment." When the Chicago Special Investigations Unit finds a murder victim surrounded by strange symbols and candles, there’s one person to consult. My Comments: I’m not familiar with The Dresden Files at all, but I understood this fusion AU perfectly well. Very cool and intriguing setting, and I loved the way all of the Voltron characters translated into the urban fantasy world. A surprise at the end particularly delighted me. I would happily read much, much more.

Cotton Guardian by VelkynKarma Words: 8,749 Author’s Summary: Lance and Hunk assist a little princess in finding her long-lost friend, but help doesn’t always come in the form anyone expects. My Comments: This is mostly adorable, with some mild spooky elements, more bittersweet and sad than scary. I love these two guys with kids, and Lance’s big brother instincts are particularly endearing here. The sense of something maybe being wrong slowly sneaks up on you, then really pounces at the end. Wonderful, heartwarming read.

Whisper in the Dark by VelkynKarma Words: 21,326 Author’s Summary: A month after the liberation of another planet, team Voltron is called back to investigate the disappearance of many of its newly freed citizens. It should be routine. It shouldn’t be a problem. But then the paladins of Voltron start disappearing, too. My Comments: Warning for some graphic depictions of violence and injury, as well as some moments of true, overwhelming horror that will grab you even through text. Holy CROW, this fic is magnificent. Keith is smart and strong and very determined to protect his teammates no matter what it takes, and the battle scene at the end is incredibly cinematic and thrilling. Really, really great read, perfect for Halloween, and I’m just sorry I’m reccing it two weeks late.

Break the Looking Glass by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) Words: 4,586 Author’s Summary: Rumors of a new ghost abound at Hogwarts, and Shiro is pulled into a search by the members of his tutoring group. They might just get more than they bargained for. My Comments: Third-year Hufflepuff Shiro shepherding the first-year younger paladins is always such a delight to read, and this was a very fun spooky story set in that ‘verse. Shiro’s protectiveness is out in full force, and the younger kids’ curiosity and courage is also on display. Such a fun and entertaining read.

In My Eyes by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) Words: 5,804 Author’s Summary: After a fight with the Galra, the Black Lion has to take control of Shiro for a longer period of time. Allura finds herself uncomfortable. My Comments: This is such a unique situation, and such an interesting interpersonal conflict between Allura and the Black Lion. Black is very concerned about taking care of Shiro and his team, and Allura has to draw on her skills as a diplomat to a surprising degree.

Take Me to the Space Hospital by isabeau25 Words: 2,069 Author’s Summary: Sven has been shot. Again. His team is not pleased with him. My Comments: This is adorable and hilarious. The alternate reality team is fantastic, and I want an epic fic with them building their own lions and learning to use them. Sven’s drugged cooing over the “baby Lance” he had to save made me grin every single time.

Mirror Image by VelkynKarma Words: 32,415 Author’s Summary: Part 1: The Kerberos mission was a success. So who is this scarred stranger in the mirror? Part 2: “I stole your life. But the least I can do is try to return it. And I will. I promise.” Part 3: Takashi has quite a lot to think about. My Comments: If you’re familiar with VelkynKarma’s work, you already know how good this is going to be (and you’ve probably already read it, tbh). If you aren’t familiar, though, let this story be your introduction, and then you can go devour everything else she’s ever written. This is her take on the Kuron theory, starting out with Shiro (original Shiro) trapped in a world that seems like a paradise to those of us who have watched the show, but which really, really isn’t. It’s such a cool use of this scenario, unique and entrancing and absolutely marvelous in every way. Thirty thousand words of fiction will pass by in the blink of an eye. I only WISH that canon was anything close to as magnificent as the stuff this writer puts out on a regular basis.

Days Unlike Any Other by Scrawlers Words: 8,629 Author’s Summary: From the beginning, Keith’s birthday was a little nebulous. But that didn’t stop him (or others) from recognizing it over the years all the same. My Comments: Really lovely look at several of Keith’s birthdays through the years. He went through a lot of hard times, but he also has a lot of people who love him.

Breathe by YukiSetsu Words: 3,987 Author’s Summary: What started off as a small mission ends up with Lance trapped in a cave and fighting for his life. Keith’s the only one there, and he has to move fast to get help. My Comments: Great little action and rescue fic with Keith being a good support to trapped and terrified Lance.

Three Days by panaili Words: 7,201 Author’s Summary: He couldn’t move. Something else was moving him.So you’ve figured it out? There was a voice in his head. It was silky smooth, so gentle he hadn’t noticed it at first, but now that Lance figured it out, it felt like thousands of insects swarming along the crevices of his brain. He wanted to shudder, shout, scream, but his body stayed calm as it examined itself. This is my body now, the voice whispered. My Comments: Lance gets controlled by a parasitic mind worm, and it’s absolutely harrowing. You should definitely mind the tags on this one, and watch out for graphic images of violence and sexual assault. It’s very well-done and very well-written, and I was riveted the entire way through.

the prices we pay by prettyshiroic (AnalystProductions) Words: 3,086 Author’s Summary: “I need to take the Marmora ship.” It’s a request, disguised by the sharp imperative Keith laces most of his speech with. Like his blade, every word twists to his whim, with clear precision and direction. But not without the intensity of his emotions on the very tip. Still, Keith does his best to suppress what he can because this is serious and not about him. Kolivan knows that Keith knows that. Keith always has seemed to understand the importance of the mission far too well for someone so young. He also seems to translate that into being expendable if the risks were worth the sacrifice. But the blade of Marmora does not take risks or chances. My Comments: Great Kolivan and Keith moments in that pivotal time of decision at the end of Season Four.

Big words for someone in pink tights by doc3 Words: 7,523 Author’s Summary: The Rangers rush to Zarkon’s base after hearing it might contain hints about their missing teammate’s whereabouts. Things don’t go well for them. My Comments: I’m only peripherally aware of Power Rangers, so I probably missed some of the references in this fusion AU, but I thoroughly enjoyed the action, humor, and teamwork. Very fun fic.

Turning the tide by Anae Words: 5,165 Author’s Summary: “I brought you here to tell you this: sometimes what we are searching for does not exist. We may sacrifice for it, even bleed for it, but it was never meant to be ours.” ― Esther Dalseno, DrownPart of story of a boy who found family among the stars, feelings of a lost soul who gave up his family for their sake. Aka S4E1 meta and a little more. My Comments: Another good take on Keith in Season Four.

Holidays by bookwormgir1LH Words: 1,022 Author’s Summary: Once again, Coran is baffled by a strange Earth tradition. But it turns out Christmas is a lot of fun, in a weird kind of way. [Prompt 24: holidays] My Comments: This is so unbelievably adorable and sweet. I love platonic kisses, and I love the focus on Coran.

Let it go by MarcellaEReeves Words: 1,927 Author’s Summary: The first time had been an accident. Over breakfast they’d been sitting, a group of strangers and aliens, in a castle, on a planet on the other side of the universe. They’d been sitting as Shiro (THE Takashi Shirogane no less! His hero, risen from the dead! Lance had to pinch himself) strolled in, cheerfully wishing them good morning as he assembled a plate of food goo and humming a tune as he did so. An annoying tune, and it irritated Lance that now his own thoughts couldn’t be left alone without someone mirroring them. It wasn’t until Pidge spoke that Lance realised the oddness, an expression over his -her- face, like she’d seen a ghost. ‘Shiro…?’ Their leader turned, questioning look covering his face. Even Keith seemed to be horrified, and a bitter stroke flicked through Lance at the thought that perhaps he’d missed some vital clue. ‘How do you know that song? You weren’t on Earth when Frozen was released…’ – Where Lance and the other Paladins discover that after forming Voltron, every persistent thought they were thinking prior gets lodged in all of their heads for the next week, and Lance finds out Shiro and Keith aren’t as cool as he first thought. My Comments: Fun take on a concept I enjoy: the paladins sharing a psychic link when formed as Voltron that affects them afterward.

Warm Things by The_Sickfic_Sideblog Words: 1,165 Author’s Summary: Keith has a cold, so Pidge warms him up. My Comments: Cute little sickfic with Pidge being sweet.

Paragon by fansofcollisions Words: 1,848 Author’s Summary: One, Allura. She’s got the experience and the head for battle, a proven leader. Good choice. Two, Pidge. She’s bright, crafty, strategic. She knows how to win a fight without taking a hit. Good choice. Three, Hunk. He’s steadfast, and he’s strong like Shiro. He looks out for his team. Good choice. Four, Keith. He’s a pain, but he’s what Shiro would have wanted. Good choice. Five. Lance. He’s…He just wants it so bad. — The Black Lion makes its decision. My Comments: Really interesting Black Lion POV, and an alternate take on that switch.

Maybe in a Different When by KatherineKatie Words: 2,245 Author’s Summary: “Life isn’t gonna get easier for you. You’re gonna have to fight tooth and nail to make your way to where I am now. But I promise you, no matter how much you’re gonna suffer, how much you’ll want to quit, how much you just want to disappear, because Mom and Dad aren’t around–” he couldn’t help but wince at the gasps he heard around him, “–it’s worth it. Because it led you to these people, and I wouldn’t trade any of them for the world. Your Shiro is waiting for you, and you should find him, on your own merits.” Child version of Keith gets sent forward in time to meet his future family. Normal Keith can’t understand why past him seems to hate his guts. My Comments: This is painful, but very well-written. Small Keith really has it rough, and it’s lovely to see him bond with the paladins, including himself. Sometimes self-care is the hardest.

How Keith Got His Birthday by kitty_kozume Words: 1,356 Author’s Summary: Shiro is surprised when he finds out Keith doesn’t know his actual birth date. My Comments: This is so sweet. Pre-series fluff with Shiro giving Keith a heartfelt and thoughtful present.

The Naming of Cats Is a Difficult Matter by the_original_n_chan Words: 2,096 Author’s Summary: …especially when the cat has ideas of its own. My Comments: This is so cute and funny. Green has very strange ideas of what constitutes a good name, and Pidge is suitably amused and horrified.

Better To Burn Than To Fade Away by this_book_has_been_loved Words: 2,153 Author’s Summary: In which Keith feels like an outsider in his own home Part 1 takes place towards the beginning of s4e05; after the plan has been formed but before it’s been set in action Part 2 takes place after the end of s4e06 My Comments: Keith has a delayed reaction to almost dying. Fortunately, Matt and the team are there to hold him together.

Little More Than A Head Cold by FadingCrystalVoid for Langsty-mc-langstface (On tumblr) Words: 1,820 Author’s Summary: Langsty-mc-langstface (tumblr) Prompt: Lance loses his voice after a shooting match with Keith.At first everyone jokes about how nice it is to finally get some peace and quiet. However as time passes everyone starts to get jumpy and snapping at each other for no reason. It’s when Coran asks about Lance do they finally put the pieces together. They rush off to find him only to find Lance passed out in his room with a raging fever. It turns out that losing his voice wasn’t because he had been shouting but instead that little head cold he had ignored had developed into something much worse. My Comments: Nice little sickfic featuring Lance.

Thicker than Blood by SunBinamra Words: 3,827 Author’s Summary: “Wait, girls lay eggs?!” “No, Keith, they don’t.” Or Pidge grows up, Lance and Hunk win “best brothers of the year” award, and Shiro gets to give The Talk to two horrified Alteans and one confused Earthling. Oneshot My Comments: This is hilarious and sweet. Love Hunk and Lance doting over Pidge while Shiro very awkwardly explains human biology to a confused audience, haha. Everyone is wonderful.

The Dreams In Which I’m Dying by Cocopops1995 Words: 1,332 Author’s Summary: Keith has a nightmare after the evenst of s04e06. Hunk helps him through it. My Comments: Hunk is so good. Hunk is the best. Why doesn’t every fic in this fandom feature Hunk prominently? I demand an explanation.

The Colour of Magic by itsthevoid Words: 4,507 Author’s Summary: Keith has always been able to see magic, but it took him a while to meet others that could too.Or: AU where quintessence behaves more like magic, and only the paladins of Voltron can see it. My Comments: I love the worldbuilding and imagery in this one, how the quintessence manifests differently for each person and the things it can do. I would be happy to read more with this concept.

Outside In by prettyshiroic (AnalystProductions) Words: 4,347 Author’s Summary: The mission is simple, until it’s not. It’s simple until the pod Keith and Pidge are in malfunctions. It’s going well until Keith insists they land to check out the problem before it gets worse or they try to push it too hard in hyperspeed. It stops being simple when they land in the lush forests of Roesan and the entire communication system goes down. Next goes the fuel. Really - there’s only so much a stellar pilot and a genius tech wizard can do together. – If Keith’s honesty is blunt, then Pidge’s honesty is brutal. Whilst Keith doesn’t sugarcoat and strives to be direct and to the point, Pidge adapts that ability into something deeply empirical. My Comments: Keith and Pidge bonding is great. She has a such a great way of seeing things and helping him view a new perspective.

Shifting Cycles by The_Sickfic_Sideblog Words: 1,102 Author’s Summary: Keith is a bit ahead of schedule, but his friends pull through for him. My Comments: Being a werewolf is tough, especially when transformation hits hard and early, but Keith has a lot of people who care about him.

may you be blessed by hanbunnotsuki Words: 1,516 Author’s Summary: Keith finds that a birthday party might not be as bad as he would think. Not when you have your friends with you. My Comments: Cute bonding fic. Keith deserves all the good things.

iridescent by bobtheacorn Words: 1,748 Author’s Summary: “How much longer are we gonna be here?” Lance asks, making an effort to sound mildly interested and not like he’s whining. He stops himself again from grabbing at the collar he can’t fan to cool himself off. “No more than a varga, I suppose,” Allura says distractedly, looking up. Her brow creases. “Are you alright? You look flushed.” “Fine, but there might not be anything left of me in this suit after an hour.” // Lance and Allura make a supply run to an alien planet. My Comments: Aw, what sweet bonding with Lance and Allura. I’m glad they got to experience something like rain together.

[averil-of-fairlea]

Every trick in the book

Prompt from the Drabble Games (now closed): “Sweetheart, what did you bury in the garden?” requested by @givemeadecentusername || Also incorporating this from @imaginexhobbit “Imagine Bilbo getting blushy because you always kiss the tippy tips of his ears.” || Drabble games fics || More Bilbo fics || More fics about “Of Lips and Fingers” (my idea of a “naughty book” in Middle Earth) || Fanfiction masterlist  || Fluff, humor, innuendo

More than six months had passed since making your half-hearted request that when “it” finally arrived - wrapped in plain brown paper with your initials in block letters  - you honestly couldn’t recall what you’d asked for.

The package was unceremoniously dropped at the front door with such a thud that it awoke you from your afternoon nap. You had run to the door, hoping it was Bilbo, returning home hours earlier than expected from a farmer friend’s abundant tobacco leaf harvest far on the other end of the Shire. But to your disappointment, there was only the mysterious package. No note.  

After giving the surrounding lush greenery of the beautiful hilly landscape a sweeping glance from left to right, hoping to catch the person who brought you the bundle, you shrugged, picked it up and went back inside, yawning and craving a cup of tea that your new husband so expertly made. You didn’t think you would miss him quite so much, especially since he hadn’t been gone very long.

As you shuffled past the piles of books and papers of the house you had called home since your festive wedding, it dawned on you what the package felt like: a book.   

Your eyes wide, you dug your nails into the thick paper. Bits and pieces sailed this way and that until you uncovered the mystery, confirming your suspicions.

You gulped as you stroked the edges of the cover and read the title of the salacious book in silence: “Of Lips and Fingers.”      

You couldn’t help but laugh out loud. What a different state of mind you were in when you overheard a few rambunctious people at the pub table behind you cackling about the detailed illustrations in the book, which had apparently made the rounds from one end of Middle Earth to another over many years. 

It was actually refreshing to listen in on the conversation. You had just returned from one of the most harrowing adventures you’d ever signed up for, in which you and Bilbo came dangerously close to losing your own lives and those of three friends, the heirs of Durin. And you had fallen desperately, unexpectedly in love with someone you were sure wanted nothing to do with you romantically, a person you could never imagine desiring before the journey: the fastidious, kind and brave Bilbo Baggins.

Given everything you’d been through, getting distracted by a naughty book enticed you. You told the rowdy group of men, women and Shirefolk your name and that you’d be staying in the beautiful area for at least three months, helping your dear friend Bilbo get re-settled before figuring out your next move. If they ever came across the book again, you asked that they drop it by your quarters at the nearby inn.  

“Might take longer ‘n three moons to get to you, my friend,” one of the women said. “People tend to get hung up on those drawings for a bit.”   

“Hung, indeed!” someone else said, setting off several seconds of laughter at the table.

“Alright,” the woman said, “soon as it’s made the rounds back to these parts, if you’re still here, it’s all yours  - as long as you don’t mind teaching us a few moves with that fancy sword on your hip.” 

You bumped mugs with her in agreement, even though you were in no mood to wield your sword any time soon, even for instructional purposes. But you doubted any of this would come to fruition anyway, so what difference would it make?

“Deal,” you said.

And then, just a day later as you helped him re-shelve his cherished books, Bilbo made his timid confession of love. Like a whirlwind, you went from a weary soldier-for-hire to an over-the-moon bride-to-be.

Cradling “Of Lips and Fingers” in your hands, you opened to the title page that had a simple line drawing. At first, it loosely resembled fingers around a pickle. Then you remembered the subject matter and did a double take:   

“Is that what I think it is?” you whispered.

Oh it was. And that was just the beginning.   

Thirty minutes passed as you you sat propped against the wall in the parlor, alternating between giggling, gasping, frowning, turning the book sideways and upside down to understand what you were looking at, and missing your hairy-footed lamb chop with a deep, fiery longing.   

“Hello, hello! I’m home!”   

Startled at hearing Bilbo’s voice exactly when you were thinking of him, you jumped. The sudden movement, combined with slamming the book shut, caused “Of Lips and Fingers” to pop out of your hands, fly into the air, and clip your nose on the way to the floor. ·        

“OW!”    

You rubbed your sniffer with one hand, scooped the book up with the other and stood, looking for a quick hiding place.         

“Darling? Are you hurt?” Bilbo called. 

“I’m fine, lamb chop!” I was just looking at drawings of nude strangers enjoying themselves…

“I’ve got quite a harvest here. Meet me in the garden to have a look and give your lamb chop proper welcome home?”  

“Uh…” You glanced at the stacks of books. You could stick the book in any number of piles but - and maybe it was just your nerves - you just KNEW Bilbo would sniff it out. No new book got by him.  

“I’ll be right there!” you called.    

In fact, you could beat him there, if he indeed had the bounty he claimed he had. It would take him a minute to drag the sack of leaves to the garden. Plus, his legs were shorter than yours. You could outrun him to the garden, stick the book into some freshly-turned earth and he would be none the wiser.  

On the way out, you put on your slippers from the bedroom, then exited through the back. You tiptoed up to the well and crouched, peeking from behind it to make sure he couldn’t see you. He was still struggling with the sack. You dashed to the garden, shoved “Of Lips and Fingers” into a patch of loose earth, brushed off your house coat and then ran toward Bilbo. He turned around just in time to receive your warm embrace.  

“I’m so glad you’re home!” Bending down so that your cheek rested on his shoulder close to his neck, you were in the perfect spot: near his right ear. You lifted your head and kissed the tip of it, felt him shiver in your arms, then switched to the left ear and gave him another gentle kiss. He laughed through a short sigh. You broke the hug, and smiled as you took note of his cheeks, which reddened whenever you kissed his ear tips.

“I’m glad to be back, too. But I was only gone for a few hours,” he said.  

“This is the first few hours we’ve spent apart since the wedding,” you reminded him.  

Bilbo gave you a smile as bright as sunrise and nodded. “True, true. Care to help me lug this away from the door?”  

“Certainly.” You grabbed the top of the cinched sack and dragged it to the garden with ease.  

“Careful! It nearly flattened me, getting it off the wagon…” Bilbo’s voice trailed off while he followed you, watching you handle the sack as if it were empty.

“Sometimes I forget how strong and fast you are,” he said, looking embarrassed.

“Years of training.” You took a quick look at the odd mound of dirt covering the book and wished you’d pushed it deeper into the soil.   

“Training didn’t give you those long limbs.” Bilbo dropped his head for a moment, as he did sometimes when he thought too hard about the differences between the two of you. “What did you ever see in me, fair lady?”  

You bent down and kissed his cheek. “We’ll be out here all day if I answer that. Next question.”  

Bilbo grinned and placed a small kiss on the tip of your nose. When he pulled away, his eyes were on the dirt.     

“Sweetheart, what did you bury in the garden?”    

Curses!  

Straightening up and glancing behind you, you intentionally didn’t look in the direction of the buried book.   

“Um…what? Nothing.”  

Bilbo tapped your shoulder and beckoned you to lower to his eye level again. You complied, melting in his tender, concerned gaze.

“You have never lied to me,” he said.

You sighed and stood erect. “I’m sorry, Bilbo. I lied because I’m ashamed.”    

“About what, my dear?”  

You walked over to the book and pulled it out of the dirt. After you brushed the soil off it, you handed it to Bilbo, and his eyes lit up.

“A new book, for me?” he asked, before opening it.   

“It was for me. I’m borrowing it, I guess.”  

Bilbo ran his hand over the cover. He started turning the pages. “Why would a book embarrass you, love? I know how much you like to read…oh! My.”   

Wanting to run and hide, you took a step back instead and bit your lip.

Bilbo stopped at one drawing and his jaw dropped. “My goodness, she’s certainly limber, isn’t she?” He brought his face closer to the page. “They…they both are. My, my, my. Wherever did you get this?” Bilbo fanned through more pages.  

“It’s a long story.”  

Bilbo held the book at arm’s length, squinting and angling it, just as you had. 

“These look like elaborate tricks performed by contortionists,” he said, amazed. He moved from the images to the book’s ridiculous narrative on lovemaking. “Hm. I’ve never read of coupling referred to as ‘two entangled flowers...’ ”         

“Bilbo, please stop.”                 

He closed it and looked up at you. “These acts…they interest you?”·        

“No. I mean, in a way. Maybe a few. But it’s not something I’m asking you to do. I was just curious. I asked to see this book before we got married - before I even knew how you felt about me. I didn’t think we could have a future together. I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“But you could be happier. More satisfied, yes?”  

“I am already satisfied. That is no lie.”  

Bilbo looked at the plain cover again, then placed it on top of the sack and reached for your hands.  

“I must admit, I’ve always been intrigued by the positions on page forty-three,” he said.

You wrinkled your brow. “Forty-three?”  

“Yes. The page you bent.”  

You stifled a laugh but failed to hide your shy smile.   

“Shall we try them?” he asked, keeping your hands in his, and taking a step toward you.

 Your face got hot. “Uh…which ones?”

“Every trick in the book.”

At once flustered and aroused, you weren’t sure what to say. You didn’t know if Bilbo was just proposing the shenanigans to please you or because he really wanted to try them. Maybe he felt self-conscious. The men and women in those drawings, with the same long limbs he’d just remarked about you, weren’t Hobbits. Maybe he felt inferior to them, and wanted something to prove.  

“You’re a perfect lover, Bilbo. The illustrators and writers of that book could learn a thing or two from you.”   

He smiled and rocked on his heels. “Let’s practice the suggestions we’ll submit to them for a second volume, then.”

“Lamb chop!” you gasped, followed by a surprised and pleased smile.

Bilbo laughed, grabbed the book with one hand and with the other started leading you to the back door of the house, closest to the bedroom.   

[allyinthekeyofx]

Fading Light - Part 1 - 1/6

Summary - Scully’s cancer returns and hope comes at a high price.

This is sort of AU but is set in season seven. There are references to season seven episodes but ‘All Things’ hasn’t happened.  We switch between Scully POV and Mulder POV throughout the whole fic.

I will post a chapter every day without fail.

PART ONE

Prologue

My Father once told me that secrets are like old wounds. That no matter how skilfully we hide the scars, they are still there, lingering beneath the surface. Invisible to the eye, but all too obvious if we take the time to really feel them. There are no good secrets. Even the ones we hide in our hearts to protect the people we love will eventually find a way to push themselves up through the layers of deception.

I've discovered that we can never hope to protect through lies and after all, isn't a secret just another name for a lie?

Semantics

Mulder would laugh if he could hear me now. Arguing with myself as I lay, eyes wide open, staring up at the patterns made by the street lamps refracted through the rain that streams down my window.

I'm not sure what time it is. I don't seem to sleep much, which is strange, because all I want to do at this moment is close my eyes and sink down into its welcoming arms.

To escape from the accusatory voices in my head for a short while would be wonderful, but I just can't seem to relax enough. If I'm honest with myself though, I'm well aware of the reason for my insomnia.

It is guilt; pure and simple.

I have a secret, and no matter how often I tell myself that I am keeping it from him to protect him, I still feel its presence every minute of every day. I keep it hidden because in doing so I am attempting to shield him from a truth he is ready to neither hear nor accept.

Every day I keep the truth from him is another day spent tiptoeing around him, so afraid that he will look into my eyes and see my lies. It was easy in the beginning.

Mulder was still shattered over the death of his Mother and I was there for him as he fell apart piece by harrowing piece, supporting him as he has supported me throughout our partnership. I watched over him like the proverbial mother hen as his quest threatened to take him over the edge, ready to drag him back should the need have arisen.

For once he didn't need me to catch him and as each day passed he learned more facts behind his sister's disappearance and finally, finally I was rewarded when he came back to me. Not entirely at peace sure - we have seen and experienced too much for that ever to happen - but I saw the stress literally roll off him as, in his own words, he was set free.

How can I take that sense of peace away from him now?

I have remained silent, promising myself, as I promise myself now, that tomorrow I will tell him, just as I have made the same promise on so many nights past.

Promises to myself I know I won’t keep.

Chapter One

Mulder is not in the sweetest of moods. He tries his best to hide it, but it was obvious from the moment he arrived flustered and dishevelled at my door this morning.

I'm not sure exactly why we started this whole car pool thing. It certainly wasn't out of any sense of wanting to save the planet, it just kind of happened.

I had offered Mulder a ride home one night when he was without his car - I can't remember why he was without it - and he decided it was only right and proper to return the favour. It seems to have set a pattern now that neither of us is willing to break, and it's strange really, but I kind of enjoy it. I like the fact that his face is the first one that greets me every morning.

Usually I like it that is.

But on days like today, when he is edgy and tense, I wish to hell I could just make him stop the damn car so I can escape out in to the clogged Washington streets and hail a cab. We have hardly spoken during the ride in, just the barest early morning pleasantries. No small talk, no innuendo, no teasing glances. In fact, so far all Mulder has given me is the charming view of his set profile as he keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead.

We are running late for the office, which is never a good thing, especially not today. Today is the second Wednesday in the month. Second Wednesdays mean inter-departmental meetings. Which in turn usually mean bureaucratic scrutiny of our recently submitted expense reports. I hate the meetings almost as much as Mulder does. The difference being, that I don't tend to show it quite as blatantly. But at least we no longer have to suffer the dubious pleasure of AD Kersch as we attempt to justify flying halfway across the country on nothing more substantial than some redneck's sighting of lights in his cow field. Skinner is no less forgiving when we balls things up, but he’s more used to it and therefore more accepting of it.

Mulder mutters something under his breath as the car in front slows down to a virtual crawl. I don't bother trying to figure out what it was. The very fact that we are attempting to negotiate rush hour traffic pretty much tells me that whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant and certainly has no need for a response from me. So instead, I just lean my head against the seat rest and close my eyes against the headache that is beginning to pulse at the centre of my forehead.

I think that the headaches were the first clear sign that something wasn't right, although for a couple of weeks I was able to pretty much deny their existence. Self-denial is a powerful force, a bit like encasing a broken ankle in a plaster cast. The pain is gone, pushed in to the background, and it's almost impossible to imagine that the broken bone ever happened at all. Until of course you walk on it at the wrong angle and the pain is back to remind you to take more care.

That's how it was with me. Only my versions of the plaster cast were non-prescription pain pills. Until they weren't enough, even when foolishly, I was taking well over the required dosage.

And then came the day when I couldn't deny it any longer. I remember it vividly. A Saturday spent shopping with my Mother I was in so much pain I could hardly stand. She noticed of course and I remember making vague assurances that I was fine, made my excuses and headed for home. I made it through the door, watched as the room began to spin in that endearing way I had come to recognize from scant years back in the early manifestations of the disease, and woke up three hours later on the floor, still clutching my house keys in my hand.

I wish now with all my heart that I had answered the basic need that pounded incessantly in my head.

Call Mulder.

Instead I had called Dr Zuckerman.

Every day since then, I have been trying to find the right words, the right moment, to broach the subject with Mulder, and right along with it, I have found a thousand excuses as to why now isn't the right time.

Of course I realize that the right time is never going to happen, and that the longer I keep putting it off, the harder it's going to get.

Especially since I have already decided that this time, treatment to prolong the inevitable is not an option for me and whilst I don’t profess to really know or understand exactly what my ‘cure’ entailed the last time around, I am smart enough to realise that its mechanism would never be found written on a treatment protocol. So I have opted to do nothing. To wait out the inevitable. I will continue to work for as long as I can. Until I’m once again incapable. But for how long I can keep up the pretence is anyone’s guess.

Not to mention the fact that Mulder is neither stupid nor blind. Eventually he will figure this thing out for himself, and deep down, I can't help wondering if he already suspects something. A paranoid little voice is whispering that I am the reason for his dark mood this morning. Which when I think about it is ridiculous.

Oh yeah. Guilt really sucks.

Suddenly, I am catapulted from my musings and transported violently back in to the here and now as Mulder curses loudly, swerving the car savagely to the left even before the word is fully formed on his lips.

"FUCK!"

I'm not entirely sure what he has seen to provoke such a reaction. Mulder rarely, if ever curses aloud. And then I hear it. A sound I have become so attuned to over the years I could recognize it in my sleep.

The sound of gunfire. Close by.

My senses hone in on the sound, and beside me Mulder is already moving, unbuckling his Seat belt and reaching for the door handle in one fluid movement. Even as I automatically follow his lead I am still searching for answers as to why exactly we have come to a halt in the middle of rush hour traffic. But, like pieces of a jigsaw the answers fall together as I finally see what he sees.

My years on the job have taught me to assimilate information pretty quickly. Headache or not, this is no exception. In the space of a heartbeat my consciousness has thrown several words at me.

Bank. Alarms. Guns. Robbery

Great. Just another fun day in the lives of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, where even a ride to work has the capacity to become a fucked up nightmare.

The shoes I chose to wear today are definitely not made for pounding the pavement. More blisters for me tonight.

Mulder of course doesn't have quite the same fashion impairment and even before I have fully cleared the car door he has taken off like a track star, waving his gun around and cutting a swath through the early morning streets like Moses parting the Red Sea. He can move pretty fast for a guy approaching forty, and, whilst I am not exactly a slug myself, an extra six inches of leg length makes all the difference and I find myself trailing further and further behind.

As I run, I can hear Mulder shouting something, but the wind is against me and his words are lost in the slipstream making them almost unintelligible. Instead, I concentrate on keeping him in sight. The perp is somewhere ahead and by the pace Mulder is keeping, seems to have no intention of giving up the fight easily.

I'm not sure what happens next.

A deafening sound that threatens to split my now pounding head in two; Mulders horrified shout.

"SCULLY!"

A blow that stops me in my tracks and slams me to the ground.

It's funny actually, because even as I am aware of falling, I don't feel anything other than a faint buzzing in my head as the pavement rushes up to meet me. No pain, no fear and certainly no understanding as to what has just happened.

But through the white noise that surrounds me, I hear another gunshot. And then another.

The sound seems to act as a catalyst for my own awareness and the dreamlike quality I had wallowed in for maybe a couple of seconds is replaced by a burning hot pain that seems to radiate through my whole body.

Shit. This really hurts.

I am reminded of the time when I fell out of the tree house that my brother Bill had spent the summer building with his cronies. I had been mercilessly chased away every time I dared show my face. A seven year old younger sister - a girl - had not been welcome in that den of pre-pubescent masculinity.

So, tomboy that I was, I had snuck over there one night and undertaken the precarious climb through the twisted boughs to reach what was forbidden to me; I'd made it up ok -getting down though had been a different undertaking all together and trees tend not to be very forgiving to seven year olds who don't have the sense to realize when they are way out of their depth. I nursed a broken wrist for the rest of the summer, and it had taken years for me to forget the white hot pain I felt as that fragile bone snapped cleanly.. But, with typical childhood resilience I had forgotten.

Until now that is.

Flesh wounds hurt. Gunshot wounds hurt. Damaged bones hurt like a bitch.

I'm unsure as to how much time has elapsed since I first heard Mulder shout out my name although I suspect it is no more than a few seconds at most.

Mulder

Shit, where is he?

Three shots Dana.

Count em.

Three.

Oh Fuck.

My eyes snap open, which in itself is futile really because I can't seem to focus on anything other than the pavement which is tilting at an impossible angle before me. I can just make out a collection of coloured blobs in the near distance and although they are fuzzy around the edges I am able to recognize them as being human. From their size and shape I am also able to determine that they are crouched down, hugging the ground as thought their lives depend on it.

But my only thought right now is for Mulders well being. Nothing else matters to me and not for the first time I am aware that what I feel for him goes way beyond the accepted boundaries of our friendship, because, had it been anyone other than Mulder, I would just close my eyes and allow myself some respite from the terrible pain that now overwhelms me.

But sometimes, even the purest love cannot conquer the frailties of the human body. As I shift my weight fractionally to the right in order to release the arm that is trapped beneath me, I am engulfed in a wave of agony so intense that despite myself I close my eyes and scream. Maybe I screamed out his name. I don't know. But it doesn't matter anyway. Nothing matters except the sudden feeling of Mulder's hands on my face, smoothing away the hair that is plastered against my cheeks. And I hear his voice from far away. He is frightened. I have frightened him.

Just like he's frightened me in the past.

So much fear for two people to bear in a lifetime.

"Sssshhhhhhh Scully, It's ok....don't try to move...it's gonna be ok. Ssssshhhhhhh."

Slowly the pain diminishes a fraction and I am able to open my eyes again. Maybe a little of the initial shock has subsided, or perhaps a gnawing desperation that needs me to know he's ok, allows me to finally focus enough to look deep in to his eyes.

Mulder has beautiful eyes, the most expressive eyes I have ever seen in my life. I could easily lose myself in their depths, which is why I don't allow myself to stare in to them too often. Right now he is fighting tears and not making a very fine job of it. I know how he feels. I've been there too. I've watched him hurting far more times than I care to remember and each and every time I have found myself crying real tears for him when he has been unable to shed his own.

Just like he is crying for me now.

Despite the pain, I am able to shakily reach up a hand that feels like a dead weight and catch that first tear as it escapes its confines. Watching as it traces a crystalline trail down my finger. I want to speak, to let him know I'm fine, but just that small movement has left me as weak as a day old kitten snatched from its Mother and I just want to close my eyes and sleep. Instead, I fix my gaze on his; attempting to communicate to him through sight what I am unable to do with speech.

I'm so sorry I didn't tell you Mulder. And now it's too late.

He is going to find out.

My secret is no longer going to be mine alone and I need to hang on to consciousness for as long as I can, because, I know that if I close my eyes now, the next time I open them, everything will have changed.

Continued chapter 2