#and then while I was drawing there was some kind of altercation in another building

[kirby-the-gorb]

[owl-with-a-pen]

This one has been on my mind for awhile, kinda odd. What if female brainy and Nia had an interaction? Hearing female brainy say that she was married had me thinking that perhaps she was married to “another Nia” seeing as she said it was a female I can imagine they looked similar!

- I really like this idea! I decided to set this back in 5x10, just after Nia is injured by bottle!Brainy. Thank you for the prompt, I hope you like it! x

The moment Brainy fled the room, Nia had wanted to go after him. If pain hadn’t flared up her side the second she’d tried to get off the bed, she would have done just that. Instead, she could only lie there, waiting for the fire in her nerves to dull with every steady breath that passed through her teeth. Nothing was broken, Kara’s x-ray vision had already confirmed that, but that bad Brainy had really done a number on her ribs, enough that she was pretty sure she’d have a nasty bruise to show for it by tomorrow.

Alex had insisted that she lie down for at least a little while, and if the room hadn’t spun so violently when Nia had sat up to argue with her, she’d be wherever Brainy was right now, trying to help him through all this.

In the end, Kara had volunteered to go in Nia’s steed, which she was incredibly grateful for. If anyone was going to get through to Brainy right now, Nia had no doubt that Kara could do it. He needed someone he trusted there with him, someone who could offer their advice, their support, hell, even some kind of motivational speech if needed, and if there was one thing Nia knew Kara was awesome at, it was motivational speeches.

It still sucked that she was stuck here, though. That she couldn’t be there for him.

Nia grimaced as she wriggled on the bed, trying desperately to get comfortable. It wasn’t exactly easy, the mattress was about as thin as paper and, without the guard rails up, Nia was one awkward shuffle away from toppling face down onto the linoleum beneath her.

Alex had left a little while after Kara, promising she’d be checking in regularly. Nia couldn’t exactly fault her, she did have a whole organisation to run, after all. Still, she kinda wished it didn’t mean that she was left alone with…

Her.

Nia really, really couldn’t figure out just what the hell Director Dox’s deal was. Brainy’s female counterpart hadn’t gone with the other Brainys to Al’s bar. In fact, Nia wasn’t even totally sure where she’d been at all. There was certainly something more languid about her than the other Brainys. She wasn’t quite as high-strung, and yet there was a calm focus in her expression that proved she was putting her thought tracks to good use. Doing what, Nia wasn’t sure, but she’d seen that look on Brainy’s face enough times to know what it meant.

Director Dox had been planning something, maybe from the second she’d reached this timeline, and it had nothing to do with the bad Brainy.

Nia assumed that whatever it was that had Director Dox’s attention, it’d be enough to draw her elsewhere. And yet, even after everyone else had left, there she remained, hanging like a shadow in the doorway.

She’d made herself comfortable in the archway, her back was pressed against the frame, her body angled so that she could watch Nia without being obvious about it.

Except, it was obvious. Totally and completely obvious.

That gave Nia reason to smile, at least. Guess subtlety escaped Brainy in any reality.

When it became clear Director Dox wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, Nia cleared her throat, glancing towards her. “You don’t have to do that,” she said.

To her credit, Director Dox didn’t look surprised that she’d been spotted, only curious. She quirked a brow. “Do what?”

Nia smiled, rolling her eyes. “Keep watch over me.” She eased herself up the bed a little, hissing as a sharp twinge rolled through her chest. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a few bruises.” She sighed, glancing past Director Dox, out into the hall. “I’m more worried about-”

“Prime.” Director Dox didn’t phrase it like a question. Instead, she lifted her chin, pushing herself into an upright position.

Nia pursed her lips. “I’ve just never seen him like this before,” she admitted. “Like he’s so uncertain of himself.”

Director Dox considered something before she folded her arms, stepping out from the arch. Nia watched her as she crossed the room towards her. “It is true,” Director Dox began reluctantly, “that while he is inhibited… he is not capable of reaching his true potential. So far from Colu, it would be difficult to notice any variances from the rest of our kind without them present. Unless, of course, an event such as this occurred.”

Nia winced. Brainy had never really gone into detail about his inhibitors before, only that he considered them a part of him, that they served a purpose - to prevent him from becoming his mother.

Nia had tried to pry more into exactly what they did for him on several occasions, but Brainy had always been reluctant to go into detail. She’d hoped that maybe after time, he’d build the confidence to tell her more about them. Finding out in this way, though, felt so inorganic, and totally outside of Brainy’s comfort zone. She knew just how much he’d tried to hide his past from his friends, especially where his ancestors were concerned, but being faced with an evil variant of himself? The shrinking technology his own mother had used to bottle worlds?

Everything they had learnt today had been divulged without Brainy’s consent, and Nia knew just how uncomfortable that had made him.

Although, it wasn’t what Director Dox had said about his ancestors that had shaken him the most. Nia had seen the moisture that had welled in Brainy’s eyes the moment he’d realised that the bad Brainy had used his own inhibitors to fool them. She’d tried to squeeze his hand then, just as firmly as he’d been squeezing hers, but he’d hardly reacted to her. Instead, his eyes had already begun tracking listlessly, so far out of reach, distant from his own reality.

She’d known he was going to run long before he’d let go of her hand.

Nia could still feel the impression of him, though, the warmth of his palm clasped around hers. She blinked suddenly, clenching her jaw as she began to feel a prickling in her own eyes. “He blames himself,” Nia murmured. “For what that other Brainy did.”

“He does,” Director Dox acknowledged solemnly. At some point, she’d pulled up a chair to Nia’s bedside. She sat heavily against it, joining her fingers together before splaying them out in front of her. She stared into her lap, brow furrowed. “The other Brainy took advantage of something outside of Prime’s control.” She met Nia’s eyes with disconcerting pragmatism. “Although, it is also true that it would not have been possible for this bad Brainy to fool us had Prime not been wearing his inhibitors.”

“That’s not his fault,” Nia gritted, clenching her hands against the sheets. “He didn’t choose this.”

“He didn’t,” Director Dox agreed, voice softening as she pursed her lips. She studied her hands for a long moment before glancing up again, resting her forearms against her knees. “Lack of control can be daunting, especially for us. But… that was not what terrified Prime today.”

Director Dox pulled an odd kind of expression then. A tight, almost-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Nia’s breath stuttered suddenly, a strange bubble forming in her chest. Her eyes… they reminded her so much of Brainy’s. Although, Nia supposed they were Brainy’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” Nia asked numbly.

Director Dox sighed, easing forward in her chair. “Losing you, Nia,” she said. “That is what scared Prime the most.”

Nia’s throat closed up. Although a lot of her altercation with the bad Brainy was kind of fuzzy now, she still remembered the aftermath. Of being curled and dazed on the floor, grabbing for Brainy’s arm as he’d cradled her against his chest. She could still see that flash of terror in his eyes, could hear his voice as he’d murmured her name over and over into her hair, burying his face against her, unwilling to let go.

“I know how that feels,” Director Dox continued, her smile already beginning to wane. She was leaned in so close now that the tips of her fingers brushed against the mattress. “I�� I had a wife.”

The use of the past tense hung heavily in the air between them.

Nia swallowed thickly. “What happened?”

“She died.”

Nia closed her eyes. She shouldn’t have asked, the answer had been a given. “God,” she murmured, “I’m- I’m so sorry.”

Nia wasn’t sure what possessed her to do it, but when she saw the vulnerable furrow in Director Dox’s brow, the pained look in her eyes, Nia desperately wanted to do something, anything to try and help. And so, she reached out, taking Director Dox’s hand in her own.

A shudder passed down Director Dox’s spine and her fingers clenched around Nia’s, squeezing tight. Something heavy settled in Nia’s stomach. From the moment Director Dox had stepped into the DEO, she’d held herself so strongly. She was a leader where she came from, someone who had to exude strength and control at all times so that the people under her watch would feel safe.

But, she wasn’t on her Earth anymore. Her Earth was gone, destroyed, alongside everyone she loved. Still, there was an old pain in Director Dox’s eyes, one that suggested that the loss of her wife had happened long before Crisis.

“Death is not quite the same for Coluans,” Director Dox said slowly, her hand laxing in Nia’s. Still, she didn’t make any move to pull away from her. “We can store the essence of our loved ones within the Big Brain, our network of minds. You do not truly lose them in that way.” Director Dox looked up suddenly, that focus returning to her expression. “It is one of the reasons why it’s so important to us. You cannot be complete without it. Inhibited, the connection to the Big Brain is not present and so, had Prime lost you, he would have experienced death in a far more mortal sense of the word.”

Nia’s mouth felt dry suddenly. She shook her head slowly, uncomprehendingly. “But, I’m not Coluan,” she said in confusion. “Brainy wouldn’t’ve-”

“Nia,” Director Dox said, sudden enough to stop her. Her grip doubled down around Nia’s. “My wife wasn’t Coluan, either.”

“Oh.” Nia blinked. She hadn’t exactly expected that, although if this version of Brainy was anything like Nia’s, then she would have likely left Colu far behind the second she’d been given the opportunity.

That odd expression of hers made a lot more sense now. Nia recognised it as a sad kind of nostalgia, clouding the pain that she clearly felt behind a mask of vague half smiles that never quite reached those large, dark eyes.

Brainy’s eyes.

Whenever Director Dox looked at her, it seemed to ignite so much within them. A fondness and reverence identical to her Brainy’s.

Nia’s heart clenched. If Director Dox’s life had been so similar to Brainy’s, then was that why she’d stuck around when everyone else had left? Why she’d been watching Nia so closely? Why every lingering glance in her direction looked like it held a storm behind it?

Was it possible? Could it be possible?

“Querl,” Nia said, pushing herself forward, ignoring every ache and pain warning her against the movement. “Your wife. Who was she?”

Director Dox’s lips trembled slightly, barely perceptible, but it was enough. She didn’t need to say it out loud, Nia was already certain she understood. That pain could only mean one thing.

Director Dox was clutching onto Nia in much the same way one might clutch onto a ghost.

“I’m sorry,” Nia managed. I’m sorry I’m not her. That I can’t be her.

But, if Director Dox was right about the Big Brain, at least it meant she carried a piece of her Nia with her, wherever she went.

Still, Nia suspected she couldn’t hold her wife’s hands like this, couldn’t stare into eyes that she thought she might never see physically realised in front of her ever again. Nia was suddenly much too aware of the blood still smearing her brow, how every twinge of pain reflected in her expression must have hurt Director Dox as much as it had Brainy, maybe even more.

Director Dox’s dark hair slipped forward as she bowed her head, lifting Nia’s hand in her own, as though she was afraid her fingers might slip through hers at a second’s notice. “You were right,” she said, choking out a small laugh. Her lips were so close to Nia’s hand, that her breath scattered across her knuckles. “I don’t have to be here.” When she looked up again, her expression was sincere, her eyes bright with fresh moisture. “But, I want to be.”

Nia offered her a gentle smile, strengthening her hold around Director Dox’s – Querl Dox’s - hand. “Okay,” she said softly.

They didn’t say anything to each other past that point, and Nia didn’t try to pry. She couldn’t say that she trusted Director Dox’s motives, couldn’t even say she knew what those motives were, but for the moment that didn’t matter.

Maybe she couldn’t be there for her boyfriend right now, but she could be there for his counterpart.

Maybe, that was exactly where she needed to be.  

[multifandombitxh]

Title: Better Off (Chapter 1) Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Quirkless!Reader Chapter Genre: Fluff with a pinch of angst Chapter Warnings: Blood, mention of MOIDER A/N: This was originally going to be a continuation of In Truth, but I decided to make it its own thing. It’s mostly just more Sweet Dabi, with some Spicy Protective Dabi this time around! Pls enjoy ur meal PS I don’t proofread very well have mercy on me I am so tired

Chapter 1: Weary

By the time Dabi finally walked through the front door, the clock had just ticked over to five in the morning. His legs were sore, his head ached, and all he really wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep everything off. The previous few days had been nothing short of stressful. Shigaraki had been at his throat at every chance he could get, and it was beginning to cause conflict within the group. There was a “small” altercation just before he’d left for the night, which ended the meeting on a sour note.

A yawn escaped his lips as the locked the door, kicking off his boots and peeling off his coat in the process. After a quick wardrobe change, he slowly crept into your shared bedroom, his heart dancing at the sight of you sleeping soundly. He couldn’t help himself from kneeling down in front of you, resting his head on his arms, and watching you snore quietly. A small, love-struck smile was plastered to his face.

Dabi leaned in close to press his lips to the shell of your ear, letting one of his hands cup the base of your neck. By now he was basically hovering over you, and decided to take it a step further by actually crawling into bed. Just as he’d expected, your eyes flew open in shock, but you quickly relaxed once you realized who it was.

“Hey, beautiful,” He said, keeping his voice low.

“Hi,” You replied simply, “When did you get home?”

He silenced you by planting a lingering kiss to your lips, relishing in the moment and breathing in deeply through his nose. You wasted no time in weaving your hands into his dark hair, the sensation leaving him weak. No matter how hard he tried, he could never find his strength around you. His knees always buckled when you kissed him, his heart always fluttered when you called his name, and he could drop dead on the spot whenever you told him you loved him.

“I missed you,” Dabi breathed, breaking the kiss.

“I missed you, too,” You said fondly. After your eyes fluttered open to look up into his, you hands halted in his hair, a confused and concerned look crossing your face.

“What is it?” He asked.

One of your hands trailed down the side of his face and he winced. “Dabi, what did you do? You have a huge cut by your eye.”

Dabi laughed it off as best as he could before shifting to lay beside you. “Must’ve happened at work. I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, all over the pillows, actually.”

With a sigh, he hoisted himself to sit upright, touching the tender spot on his face. When he pulled his hand away and saw that he was, in fact, bleeding, a deep groan wormed its way out of his mouth. “Fucking perfect.”

“Stay here,” You said, ruffling the hair on the top of his head as you abandoned your spot on the bed. He watched you as you walked out of your bedroom, laughing under his breath when you nearly tripped over your own feet in your sleepy state. When you returned with disinfectant and a wet towel, Dabi leaned back against the head board and decided to rest his tired eyes. The mattress dipped beside him as you crawled back onto the sheets. He was keenly aware of your close presence, but still winced and grunted when you pressed the damp towel to his wound.

“Sit still,” You said, your unspoken worries lacing your tone of voice.

Deep down, Dabi knew that he was no good for you. He knew that one day, sooner or later, you would find out for yourself exactly what kind of monster he was, and you’d bolt. There was no doubt in his mind about it; he was going to ruin you, whether you knew it or not. A sick feeling settled in his stomach as he pondered those thoughts, the sensation worsening when he pictured the look on your face when you finally realized what he was; a villain.

He often wondered if you would care at all if you knew. You’d told him countless times that some villains can be justified in their intentions, but not their actions. It was entirely possible you might try to turn his life around; to get him on the right path and have a life worth living. No more devious plots, no more late-night League meetings, no more death. Dabi wasn’t sure if that was a life he was ready for, let alone deserved. The idea of stability was foreign to him and always had been.

At the same time, however, he couldn’t help but wonder what you would look like in a wedding gown, walking down a rose petal aisle with flowers in your hair. Or how wonderful of a mother you might be, if that was something you wanted. The idea of watching you hold your child for the first time nearly brought a tear to his eye. It twisted his heart to think that one day you might have exactly that; a normal, stable, human life. Just not with him.

He could never be a father, or a husband. Not like this.

Before he knew it, you were placing a bandage over the gash and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Good as new,” You declared cheerfully, setting down the medical supplies on the nightstand behind you. “Feel better?”

“What? Oh, yeah, much better. Thanks, sweetheart.”

When he glanced over at you, you were sitting on your legs, hands resting in your lap, softness painting your beautiful features. He reached out and placed his palm over your cheek, just like he always did, and let the pad of his thumb caress your cheekbone. You leaned into his touch, just like you always did, and a smile stretched over your lips. It was comfortable, quiet; the early morning sun creeping in through the curtains and canvassing the room in specks of gold. Peace wasn’t a luxury Dabi had the chance to experience often, but any time he managed to get a taste, you were always there.

Most days he wondered if you really were an angel. Compared to most people he knew, you were saint-like. Maybe you did have a quirk, after all; radiating peace.

“Tell me about your day,” Dabi muttered, pressing his forehead against yours.

As you quietly recounted the days events, he let his hands roam as they pleased; over your neck, stroking your shoulders, down your arms, and finally ending the journey with his fingers intertwined with yours. He nodded and listened as you spoke; smiling when you described the peaceful train ride to work, scoffing when you complained about a coworker. Every word that came out of your mouth fascinated him, reminding him that there were so many things in the world he never thought about, or cared to notice. Hell, he never bothered to enjoy a sunset until he met you. Now, he couldn’t get enough of them.

“Something did happen, though,” You said cautiously, “As I was leaving work today.”

Dabi pulled back to look you in the face, frowning when you wouldn’t meet his gaze. “What happened?”

“It’s not a big deal, really,” You began, “But... my ex kind of found out where I work. He was waiting outside the building when I left.”

“He what?”

“It’s not a big deal!” You repeated, holding up your palms defensively. “Seriously, I had it under control, and my coworker came out to help. We handled it, I promise.”

The thought of you having to deal with your ex boyfriend and him not being there to help was enough to make his blood curdle. Anger rose in his chest, a lump forming in his throat as he tried to rationalize what to say next. His immediate first thought was to plot the bastard’s murder, but when he saw the worried look on your face, that impulse disappeared. You were gripping his hands tight, gazing into his eyes to gauge his reaction. After taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and lowered his head, trying to find the strength to calm down.

Your hands abandoned his to cup the sides of his face, forcing him to look at you again. “Dabi, please say something.”

“He could’ve hurt you and I wasn’t there to protect you,” He said at last, a growl lacing his words. “I swear to god, I’ll kill him if he ever comes near you again. I’ll-”

He was cut off by your lips on his, his anger melting away to be replaced by something warm and welcoming. His heart lurched against his ribs as you kissed him, your hands lost in his hair, one of his own pulling you closer by the waist. Kissing you was like the tide; drawing him in and back out again, washing away his fears and worries while lulling him into a hypnotic state. It was addictive, and he could never seem to get his fill.

After several minutes of bliss, you broke the kiss to rest your forehead against his. Silence filled the dark room as you sat, content in each others presence. Having finally calmed down enough to think straight, Dabi decided it best not to dwell on it, and to figure out what to do in the morning. Maybe he could get the League involved, teach the guy a lesson, hit him where it hurts. It would be easier with the others, especially Compress. His Quirk would make hiding a body much easier. Toga was pretty scary all on her own, he could probably convince her to freak your ex out a little... or a lot.

But all of that could wait. For now, he only wanted to hold you close and get some sleep.

“I think I know how to fix the problem,” Dabi declared, opening his eyes. “Temporarily, at least.”

“Oh, really? How?”

As swiftly as he could, Dabi scooped you up in his arms and placed you in his lap, smiling widely at the sweet squeal you let out in protest. He managed to grab the blanket in the process, draping it over your bodies before circling his arms around you completely. After propping himself up against the pillows, he leaned down to press his lips to yours for the hundredth time that night.

“I think,” Dabi whispered between chaste kisses, “You should take today off.”

“I can’t miss another day of work,” You half-whined, “What am I supposed to tell them this time? My boyfriend is keeping me hostage in our own home?”

“Sure, that could work.”

“Or, I could work.”

Sighing in defeat, he let his head fall back against the headboard again and shut his eyes. “I guess I can’t stop you.”

“Damn right you can’t,” You said playfully, shoving at his chest lightly. You both laughed quietly, then settled into the embrace.

“You know,” Dabi said, licking his lips. “If you wanted, I could do something about that guy for you, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “Like what? Abduct him and set him on fire? Yeah, I’d really rather not have that conversation with the cops, babe.”

“I’m just saying,” He replied with a nonchalant shrug, “Sometimes guys like him need to be taught a lesson, that’s all. I’m sure he’d leave you alone if I gave him a reason to stay away.”

“I don’t know if I like how that sounds, especially coming from you.”

After kicking himself mentally for letting his malicious thoughts spill out, Dabi slipped his hand underneath the back of your shirt and trailed his nails over your skin. You immediately reacted to the touch, your body going stiff before melting into him again. As he scratched you back and shoulders, he pressed several small kisses to the top of your head, breathing in your scent.

“I’m sorry, angel. I just want you to be safe.”

“I want you to be safe too, you know,” You mumbled sleepily against his warm chest, “You’re important to me.”

The conversation ended there, leaving you to fall back into a silent sleep, and leaving Dabi to fight back tears.

[bytheangell]

I’ll See You When the Violence Ends

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: Enemies to Lovers for @shadowhunterbingo Pairing: Meliorn/Isabelle  Rating: Mature – Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Tags:  Enemies to lovers, alternate timelines, background character death, canon-typical violence  Summary:   With tensions rising between the Nephilim and the Downworlders, Isabelle finds herself inexplicably drawn toward the enemy... or rather, one in particular.  -------------

The first time Isabelle comes across a Downworlder on her own she’s ten years old. She sneaks out in the middle of the night, long after her parents’ normal second round of checks on her and her siblings to make sure they’re actually in bed and not ignoring curfew by going up on the roof or to each other’s rooms.

She’d seen plenty of Downworlders brought into the Institute by the older Shadowhunters - ones who were caught breaking the laws. She often wonders why they can’t just listen, like she does, and stay in line. They’re sentiments she’s heard voiced by her parents: the Downworlders simply don’t know their place, if they’d fall in line they wouldn’t be hunted, wouldn’t be hurt. Isabelle believes that because she doesn’t know any better. After all, she follows the rules and knows her place, and she’s just fine.

Isabelle is too young to be out alone, fresh off her first rune ceremony the week before, but she goes anyway. She’s curious. She doesn’t intend on being seen, she just wants to see, to catch a glimpse for herself of a Seelie just out and about, doing whatever it is they do when they aren’t… well, in trouble.

“You shouldn’t be here,” comes the voice behind her.

Isabelle spins around with a gasp. She hadn’t heard anyone come up behind her, how--

It’s a Seelie Knight. She sees the way he looks down at her, though despite the tone of warning behind his words he looks… amused.

“Aren’t you a little young to be out claiming victims alone at night?” He looks around then, as if expecting someone else to come out of the shadows behind her. “Or is this a set-up? You scream for help, I get taken in for attacking a poor, defenseless Nephilim child?”

“What?” Isabelle manages, confused by his reaction. “No. Why would I do that?”

The Seelie only shakes his head.

“You’re not going to, are you? Attack me?” Isabelle asks uncertainly. She didn’t take any of the weapons because she didn’t want anyone to notice one missing, but now she regrets the decision because the Seelie’s description is right: she is defenseless, at least against someone like him.

“No,” he says. “Contrary to what your people may want you to believe, we aren’t all monsters.”

Isabelle feels relief at that. Seelies can’t lie, so he has to be telling the truth.

“Why are you here?” The Seelie asks her curiously.

Isabelle wonders if there’s an answer she can give that isn’t going to get her into trouble. “I wanted to see for myself,” she admits, a bit cryptically but better than nothing.

“See what?” The Seelie prompts.

“Magic,” Isabelle nearly whispers the word, foreign and taboo. 

The entrances to the Seelie realms are meant to be a sort of magic, as are the wards guarding them. And she knows the Seelies themselves are capable of magic too, usually involving nature… she hoped if she saw some of them, and they didn’t realize she was watching, she might get to see some of it herself and know what all the fuss is about.

She expects him to be angry, but he surprises her again by laughing.

“Magic… like this?”

Isabelle watches as he bends over the smallest bud of a flower to the right of where they stand, cupping his hands over it with so much tenderness and care, then pulling them away to see a new, full bloom.

Her first thought is that it’s beautiful. Her next thought, as sharp as a mental slap, is that she shouldn’t think it’s beautiful. The magic the Downworlders have is a threat, the demonic blood it’s born from an abomination.

Isabelle turns without another word and sprints back to the Institute, checking behind her every so often half-expecting him to be in pursuit.

The Seelie doesn’t follow and Isabelle doesn’t tell anyone about her encounter, not even Alec.

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

Isabelle sees many Downworlders after that, sometimes with others but sometimes alone, and every time ends the same: with her target in custody or a trophy in her hands. She doesn’t think twice of it: her training ensures that any sympathy she has for those with demon blood is wiped away entirely, her success as a Shadowhunter depends on it.

There are expectations placed upon her as a Lightwood. They are, after all, second only to the Morgensterns in terms of family legacies. There are a lot of benefits to being a Lightwood, but only if she earns them.

And earn them she does. She and Alec are forces to be reckoned with. Alec and his parabatai, Jace Wayland, are nearly unstoppable soldiers in the field. Isabelle and her parabatai, Clarissa Morgenstern, are just as deadly. The four of them are the top of their class, easily surpassing their peers and earning assignments of their own as early as thirteen years old.

Isabelle is 15 when she sees the Seelie Knight again.

She faces him in a dark corner of a park where the Seelies Clarissa is meant to be tracking will run towards to flee back to their realm. He’s the first to cross her path.

“You’re not alone tonight,” he says simply, eyeing her fighting stance and activated runes. “And no longer defenseless.”

She remains silent. For a moment she remembers his kindness before but instead of softening her eyes narrow.

Isabelle tenses as he shifts his position to be near a large tree, and she wonders if it’s to draw magic from it. She knows Seelies can call weapons from the earth and she pulls at the bracelet around her wrist, the adamas shifting into a whip in her hands.

 “What? Don’t you want to witness my magic again?” he asks, a harsh edge to his words as a vine drops down from above her, pulling her feet out from under her as it wraps around her ankles and tugs. Isabelle gives a shout and falls, watching him move easily past her. Using his magic to access the Seelie Realm he vanishes from sight while she dangles upside-down by the tree.

He could’ve killed her.

She would’ve killed him.

Isabelle is more than a little confused and has a lot of time to stew in her thoughts before Clary comes to cut her down and take her home, keeping the particulars of how the Seelies slipped away from their follow-up report .

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

Isabelle is sixteen when she sees the Seelie Knight again. The altercations between the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders turn more frequent - reports of another start coming in almost every other day at this point. She can feel the small encounters building in tension and severity, wondering when they’ll turn to battles, and when those battles will turn to a proper war.

She’s part of a raid that will serve to be a turning point for all involved - one on the Dumort itself, staged at midday so the vampires had little chance to flee. She doesn’t like it - something about the whole set-up doesn’t sit well with her. They’re told the building is harboring fugitives to the Clave, but they’re given no specifics on who or what crimes they’ve committed. They’re not told who inside may be innocent, or given specific targets, and no one asks.

It isn’t a raid - it’s a slaughter. The vampires fight back, because of course they do, and the few who don't flee through secret exits and underground tunnels die bloody.

There’s so much going on that even those who get kills don’t have the time or opportunity to stop and take their spoils - but Isabelle comes across the dead body of Camille in her attempts to find her parabatai in the wide expanse of the hotel, and stops to slide the ruby necklace off the vampire’s neck and hold it delicately in her hands.

When she looks up the Seelie Knight is there, staring at her with just a hint of surprise underneath his otherwise neutral expression.

The vampires must’ve called backup. And if the Seelies are here, to help the vampires of all Downworlders, Isabelle doesn’t like the implications of that for the Nephilim in all of this. Keeping them divided and equally at odds with each other as they are with the Shadowhunters was always a strategy hammered into them from a young age.

It takes Isabelle a second in her panic to realize that his look of surprise isn’t at her, however.

“Camille...” he says the name softly, sadly, almost like a goodbye. Then his eyes catch on the necklace in Isabelle’s hands and he’s across the room before she can blink, the blade of his spear pressed against her throat.

Isabelle’s eyes widen. “It wasn’t me,” she says instinctively. She doesn’t know why - she’s here, after all, she’s a part of this whether this particular life was taken by her hand or not.

It has the desired effect, however, and the Seelie hesitates.

A voice calls from the hallway, shouting “Meliorn! In here!”

The Seelie Knight looks Isabelle over, considering her finally, before lowering his weapon and turning to follow the call out of the door and down the hallway.

On her way to warn the others to retreat she slips the necklace into her pocket and files the name away in her mind for the future.

Meliorn.

---------

Isabelle is out on a routine patrol when she sees the warlock child. She knows the girl is a warlock because she’s seen her with the others on occasion, both on and off the battlefield. For a split second Isabelle considers following her to a less public area to kill her - one less warlock to kill the Nephilim later, after all. Except this isn’t a battle, and while there are no strict rules governing chance public encounters - and while Isabelle knows that many others would certainly seize this opportunity and judge her for allowing it to pass - she can’t bring herself to kill in cold blood.

“Hey,” Isabelle says instead, making her presence known and approaching the warlock with her weapons sheathed. “It isn’t safe for you to be this far alone. Do you know your way back home?”

The child nods.

“Head that way. And travel with a friend next time.”

“I can take care of myself,” the girl states, magic flaring at her fingertips, and for a second Isabelle wonders if she hasn’t made a mistake in judgment. But then the magic is gone again after the quick display, and Isabelle relaxes.

“I’m sure you can,” Isabelle says, and turns to head back to the Institute.

A few moments later she hears footsteps behind her, and then a voice.

“Why did you do that?” Meliorn asks.

“Do what?” She questions, though she already knows.

“Try and warn her?” He clarifies.

Isabelle frowns. “She’s a child, and she’s alone. You really think so little of me to think I’d kill her where she stands? She’s done nothing wrong.”

 “She’s been in the battles. I’ve seen her,” Meliorn points out.

“So have you and I, and yet here we are,” Isabelle counters.

Meliorn smirks. “So we are,” he says.

There’s a charged moment between them during which Isabelle’s fight-or-flight instinct flares within her. Allowing the child to walk away was one thing, but Meliorn?

He seems to consider the same thing, sizing her up, that casual smirk of amusement never faltering.

Without a word he turns to leave.

Isabelle hesitates, once more uncertain if she should allow him to so easily, but reminds herself that he’s doing the same for her. Should they come to arms she may very well lose, and she doesn’t favor the idea of dying alone in an alley on a routine patrol.

She watches him go, curiously, before leaving herself.

--------

Isabelle sees Meliorn more often after that, though she wishes she wouldn’t. As she feared, the occasional fight turns into the occasional proper attack, and though the Seelies stay out of it more than the vampires, werewolves, and warlocks, they can no longer stay entirely removed as their Queen would prefer.

Isabelle watches Meliorn pierce through the hearts of Nephilim - fellow Shadowhunters, people she cares for, friends - while he witnesses her take talons and pointed ears and warlock marks as spoils of her own battles won. Despite the times they met in the past and walked away from one another she has no doubt now, as their eyes meet in a fiery glare, that should they meet alone again it would end much differently.

And it does, but not in the way she expects.

It’s meant to be a fact-gathering mission: Isabelle is alone, intending on keeping a safe distance and following undetected behind the Seelies as they leave the meeting they had with Magnus Bane and return to their realm. She’s meant to find and report on the location of the entrance, as well as note how many of them attended and the sort of weaponry they seem to be outfitted with. Simple intelligence gathering.

Or at least, it should be.

She’s following behind when she notices that there’s one fewer Seelie in front of her than there should be. Almost instantly she feels hands grabbing roughly at her shoulders, pulling her into a shadow-covered side street.

“Why are you following me?” Meliorn demands - and of course it’s him, Isabelle thinks. Except… maybe this can work in her favor.

She doesn’t answer at first, her mind working in overdrive to plan her way out of this.

“I should kill you for this,” he points out. He could. They’ve both killed for less.

She can’t get to her weapons fast enough, or her stele to activate any runes. She’s at the disadvantage, so she either talks her way out of this (which seems unlikely) or…

“Why don’t you, then?” She challenges. It’s a gamble, banking on the fact that he let her live before and little else, but if it works it could buy her the distraction she needs to not just stay alive, but still get the intel she came for. The fact that he doesn’t react immediately is all the encouragement she needs to try.

Impulsively she leans forward, clearing the space between them to press her lips against his. He tenses but doesn’t move away. After a moment he pushes forward and she thinks, just for a second, that he’s going to kill her anyway. Instead he presses her against the wall behind her forcefully as he moves into the kiss. It’s a heated moment, over as quickly as it began when the sound of approaching footsteps reach them and Meliorn tears himself away as intensely as he’d surged forward.

“Go,” he says, and she pretends to, disappearing around the corner as he goes back to his people.

Except she doesn’t actually leave.

Isabelle waits, watching him go, and then re-activates a rune to quiet her steps to follow behind more carefully this time, watching him step into a tree trunk, vanishing from sight. Isabelle counts to 30, slowly, before following behind. She goes through the entrance and finds herself in the Seelie Realm, trying to take it all in --

--turning to see Meliorn waiting for her, looking disappointed.

“I thought you were better than this,” he says, lifting his hand up. Instead of raising a weapon he opens his palm and blows a powder… no, pollen… into her face. Isabelle barely has time to register what’s happening before she tilts to the side, drowsy, and then falls unconscious into Meliorn’s waiting arms.

She wakes up on the ground beside the tree, and when she stands to touch it the entrance is closed, the tree solid, and no trace of Meliorn or the Seelie Realm besides the slight itch of pollen in her nose.

Damn.

---

Shortly after, Isabelle is called into Valentine’s office.

“Put on your best dress, Isabelle,” he tells her. “You’re going to the Seelie Realm.”

Isabelle freezes. Did someone see her with Meliorn? Had he said something, and now she’s being turned over… as what? A bargaining chip? A trade?

A sacrifice?

“For what purpose?” Isabelle asks, keeping her voice steady.

“An act of goodwill. The Seelie Queen has information regarding a vampire den turning children, but will only give it to us on her terms, one of which is that we come to her for it, the other a temporary truce with her people in return for continued intel.” Valentine looks pleased, and she can see why. It’s a good trade for all involved.

“Why me?” Isabelle can’t help but ask. She’s young, inexperienced in the finer matters of political dealings. This is absolutely not something she’d normally be sent on. There are many more skilled than her, many trained for this very task, who should be going instead.

“You were requested specifically,” Valentine says, eyebrow raised. “Any idea why that may be?”

Isabelle shakes her head despite her very strong suspicions. Valentine hums in response but doesn't push the question.

“It should be straightforward. Give her our word for our end of the bargain, get what information she has currently, leave. We’ll brief you before you go, tell you what you can and can’t agree to… you know how their kind can be, playing games with their words. You’ll need to stay sharp, but you’re a fine Shadowhunter, Miss Lightwood. One of our best. I have no doubt you’ll be fine.”

Isabelle forces a smile and nods. “Of course, Sir. You can count on me.”

---

The next day, with as much training as they could cram into the short span of hours, Isabelle finds herself at one of the ever-changing entrances to the Seelie Realm.

Meliorn is there to meet her. She expected to see him, of course, but she also expected to see more than just him. A test, perhaps, of the Shadowhunters’ ability to be trusted with their promise of truce, to not have a full guard on her for the journey? Isabelle hesitates only a moment before following him into the water in front of them.

The Seelie Realm is beautiful and Isabelle stares in wonder around her. The last time she managed to sneak in for just a moment it wasn’t long enough to get a proper look, but now her eyes linger on the trees and flowers, the bugs that seem abundant but never crowding or overwhelming. She’s so entranced by it that she nearly forgets why she’s here, with Meliorn several yards ahead before she starts after him.

Though they travel in silence, with Isabelle following only half a step behind Meliorn once she catches up she finds it’s less of an escort and more of a pleasant walk. His weapon is relaxed at his side, she notes, her own hand grazing over the holster she wears under her dress just in case.

The million questions Isabelle has all seem to die on her tongue as she realizes she’s more afraid of getting an answer she doesn’t want than being left to wonder.

She isn’t left to wonder for long.

Mere minutes later Meliorn directs her into a tent. It quickly becomes clear that this is a home, a bedroom.

“Why am I here?” Isabelle asks finally, unsure if she means ‘here’ in the Realm at large or ‘here’ in this room specifically.

“Because I wanted you here,” Meliorn replies simply. She sees the desire in his eyes, brazen and without pretense.

“The meeting with the Seelie Queen--” Isabelle starts.

“Is very real, as is the deal to be struck. This is simply a detour, should you agree. I thought it a shame to waste the truce between our people for however little time it may last.” Meliorn sets his weapon down in the corner of the room.

Isabelle takes a tentative step forward from where she paused by the entrance.

“But you can’t possibly like me…. Or trust me,” she adds for good measure. How could either of them after watching the other take the lives of their friends and family countless times? She’s surprised then, after a moment of reflection, to realize she doesn’t actually blame him personally - not when he’s in the same position she is, simply a soldier carrying out orders. There were many times she doubted her assignments, questioned her own actions, even regretted them… did the same hold true for Meliorn? Did he regret the Nephilim lives he took?

“I don’t have to trust you to make love to you,” Meliorn doesn’t bother with trying to ‘woo’ her or anything as mundane as that. “And ‘like’ and ‘desire’ are two separate emotions.”

She huffs out a breath of a laugh in disbelief. He isn’t wrong, it’s just the last thing she’d expected to be faced with after all the worrying and careful planning put into this trip, agonizing over her every action, her every word to the Seelies in their realm. And now…

...now, Meliorn stares at her, waiting patiently for her to give any sign of agreement of what he’d like to happen next, with a fire burning bright in his eyes. She feels it too. There’s been a spark between them since long before that encounter in the alleyway, something that sends a shiver down her spine every time they lock eyes and heat rippling through her every time he draws near. She wondered if he felt it, too, and now she knows he did. He still does.

“Alright,” she says finally, moving forward toward him, stopping just short of touching. They lock eyes again, those sparks mirrored in them, while slow, eager smirks spread across each of their mouths before they meet fiercely. There’s no slow start, no steady buildup before Isabelle pulls Meliorn with her as she takes several steps backward until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. He falls on top of her and, in the back of her mind, Isabelle is dimly aware of a muted instinct to panic at being crowded and pinned down by the Seelie.

It’s silenced by the waves of pleasure that wash over her with each brush of teeth, of hands, of lips and tongue. Could it be this simple, this black and white?

Isabelle never imagined any decision could feel this effortless… but she hasn’t made all that many decisions before, has she? It’s always been orders and protocol and expectations.

But not this. This is something different.

She isn’t a soldier here, or a sister, or a parabatai. There is no love demanded of her, no expectation or trust or devotion.

There’s only temporary truce and desire, a combination Isabelle’s growing more fond of by the second as she, for the first time in a very long time, loses herself in something entirely her own.

[foxtophat]

hey i said i was gonna get this up today!!!!

so with this chapter's conclusion i can safely say that i've officially written everything that i set out to write with mercy!  this chapter was literally a skeleton that shaped eighty percent of the entire story, so i'm glad i could finally flesh it out and put it out there!!

there's still one more chapter to go, which will be more or less an epilogue for the main story. after that, i think i'll try to get a couple of other fandom fics going (ones that are ACTUALLY nearly done, not half-ass done like mercy was when i decided to start posting lmao) and then i can set up a schedule to write some more for this universe

anyway, for now i just want you to read and enjoy.  this chapter is all about john's ptsd, and it made me sad, so i hope it makes you sad too heheh

as usual, any likes, comments, reblogs, kudos, casual mentions in meatspace or idle daydreaming about different ways this chapter could go are ALL super welcome and adored. i love you guys, you've been so kind to me <3 i hope you enjoy this chapter!!!

the usual: below the cut is the full chapter text if you don't wanna go to ao3, but you should, ao3 is way easier to read on

Things around the Rye homestead have been pretty good as of late. Eight, nine months ago, Nick never would have expected to see the living room floor again, much less finish even half of the tedious repair work that he's managed to check off his list. The planters are already sprouting with what's going to be an early summer harvest, Carmina's hen-house is ready to go, and they've already bartered off some scrap for moonshine and extra ammunition for Carmina's blooming sharpshooter hobby. The house itself only creaks and groans in heavy winds, and a few additional supports outside have secured the second floor from crashing down in the middle of the night. For an old, blown-out house that's been through nuclear winter, the place is coming back together pretty well. Hell, another couple of years and they might be able to reconnect the septic system, and then they'd really be cooking.

Other people have noticed their good luck, too. Mostly friends, like Grace and Jerome, but the word's spread a bit now about the Rye's generosity, and they've gotten a few good trades out of it, although a lot of them are I-O-U's that maybe won't come to fruition. That's fine by Nick — they don't need the old fencing or the scrap plywood, and there are still two mostly-buried garages out back that could be broken down for some really prime salvage. If people want to give him free use of their future smokehouses or promise to help him find more gas for his truck, then that's more than enough payment. Anyway, that's what Nick tells people when they don't have anything to offer — it isn't like he's going to turn somebody away when they need help.

Of course, not all of their generosity is appreciated equally. John being around doesn't sit well with many of the people who come by, although it's never enough to deter them from doing business with Kim or Nick. There aren't many confrontations, even when John helps Nick load wood into a truck or remains lingering in plain view, although somebody usually has something to say about it. Unless they get really vulgar or violent, Nick usually lets them blow off steam in his and John's direction, and he doesn't take it personally when somebody takes a cheap shot at him for being such a soft-hearted bastard.

Their vitriol usually ends after a few minutes. Most of the time, John can handle it by himself, apologizing genuinely to each person who tries to curse him out. Nick hasn't heard the same regret twice, and even if John doesn't recognize every hateful face, he seems to remember his part in their trauma. It might not be what they want to hear, but John's serious, specific remorse usually puts the fire out of their fight. So far, there's only been two instances where Nick had to call Jerome out to mediate, and neither time resulted in anyone getting shot or knocked out. Sure, John might come out of an altercation with a couple of bruises, but that's usually it.

It stands to reason that something was bound to go wrong at some point. Nick's prepared for all sorts of catastrophes; he's got contingency plans for flooding, wild animals, and even ornery neighbors upset that he let John off so easy. There are a million little things that could go wrong out here, and Nick can only do so much to prepare for every eventuality, but he thinks he's got a pretty good handle on it.

That is, until the radio breaks. It's one thing that Nick hadn't even considered a possibility — they'd left the thing in its box until the apocalypse, and until they left the bunker, it'd barely seen any use at all. And yet, one day Nick tries to confirm a trade and the radio fails to catch anything more than static.

Cheap goddamn made-in-China crap, that's what it is, and that's what Nick tells everyone within earshot as he fiddles uselessly with the knobs. When he turns the radio around to get a look at the connectors, he ignores the stamped metal that reads "MADE IN GERMANY" in favor of hunting down the problem — but that's going to involve unscrewing the back and, well, Nick isn't exactly an electrician. He's not sure the best option here is to dig into the guts of his only radio willy-nilly like. He could go get the user's manual, but it's in a pile of boxes down in the bunker, and Nick really doesn't want to go rooting through trash for it.

Heaving a frustrated sigh that takes all the fight out of him, Nick grabs the flashlight and goes out back to let Kim know what's up. She and John are working in the garden, which used to be something John would avoid at all costs. Now, he doesn't even seem phased to be working in the dirt, barely acknowledging Nick's irritated venting about the broken radio as he pulls weeds. It's only when Nick mentions going into the bunker that he seems to take notice; he tries to be subtle about it, but Nick doesn't miss his head swiveling to stare briefly.

Of course, Nick is so used to John's cagey weirdness about bunkers that he barely notices, too busy

Kim looks sympathetic, but she doesn't sound it as she reminds him, "Nick, complaining to his ever-patient wife. "I'm just gonna grab the manual, maybe see if there were any spare parts in the box we missed. It's not like the thing gets used enough to break!" the radio is ten years old. Even expensive equipment can't last forever."

"If I don't get to sit down and give up whenever I want, then neither does the radio. It's not like we got any choice , here. If we don't have a working radio, we're going to have a bitch of a time reconnecting with everybody. And we've actually started to build something, you know?"

"At least you'll have a diagram to work with, I guess." Kim sighs. "John, have you... do you know where our bunker is?"

John smiles wryly. "I do," he replies.

"Oh, right," Nick sighs. "You probably know where everything is on the property, huh."

"Knew," John points out. "But yes, that was my job. I was as thorough as I could be." He chews his lip, standing after a thoughtful second. "I know where a lot of bunkers are. If you can't repair the radio... We could look for another one."

"Okay, of course you do." Nick waves for John to follow him, which he does, keeping pace as they head away from the wash, towards the opposite side of the hangar from their normal route. "What makes you think I wanna take a radio from somebody else ?"

"Not many of the structures put together out here were by any means safe ." John probably shouldn't sound so blase about it, but the guy's got a point. Doubly so when he continues, "I was suggesting we take one from someone who won't be needing it anymore."

Nick clicks his tongue against his teeth. "Well, it's something to think about," he agrees reluctantly. It sounds a lot like grave-robbing to him, but John's right. It's the smartest option, and somebody's going to have to do it eventually. It might be better for everyone if it's them, and not some opportunistic drifter who won't put the resources back into the community.

That's a problem for another day. Right now, Nick leads John around thick tumbleweeds that have gotten caught in the long grass, bringing them up just short of the bunker door. Covered with about two years' worth of dirt but not yet overgrown, the white hatch is only a marginal pain in the ass to pry out of the ground. John waits for Nick to ask for help, only to realize that isn't happening anytime soon, and wordlessly assists in coaxing the rusted hinges to work.

The bunker is dark and smells like a root cellar. Nick sure hopes nothing important molded. They'll have to get down here and clean up soon, before the mildew takes hold and ruins everything.

"Okay," he says, "You just wait here and make sure that thing doesn't close on me."

Nick half-expects some kind of joke about locking him inside, but John only nods obediently, standing a few feet from the opening with his arms folded across his chest. Nick rolls his eyes but does his best to ignore John's unease as he descends into the bunker.

He decides against testing the power — even if the generator down here still has some juice in it, they haven't operated anything in a while and Nick does not want to be engulfed in flames right now. Instead, he clicks on the flashlight and wanders through the narrow space. He doesn't linger on the drawings Carmina left on the wall or the unmade cots, passing by a pile of laundry that'll never get done and heading to the small utility closet in the back.

He finds the box intact, one corner suffering water damage from what looks like a cup of water that nobody ever picked up. Deciding against rooting around for anything else that might be useful, he takes the whole box back out to the ladder, chucking it up out of the hole once he's tackled the lower rungs.

John is trying hard not to show his nerves as Nick pops back up, shoving his hands into his pockets before changing his mind and folding them again over his chest. Bunkers are a tender spot for him, and Nick knows it, so for now he decides not to make a big deal about it. John's too fragile for Nick to be teasing him, even if he refuses to admit it himself.

Pulling the box apart, Nick scavenges the manual and a couple of accessories that he hadn't needed a decade ago and probably doesn't need now. The cardboard is mostly good, so Nick breaks down the box, chucking the useless packaging back into the bunker before foisting the supplies onto John.

Nick gets up and shoves the bunker door until it falls shut on its own weight. "Well, now I gotta spend the rest of my day reading that crap," he says, gesturing to the chunky owner's manual.

"Give it to Carmina," John suggests, "She's desperate for new reading material."

"And give her the chance to become more technologically savvy than me? I'll pass."

Nick spends the next few hours troubleshooting his way through the manual, vengefully ignoring the support hotline numbers plastered on every other page. Even if the service center hadn't been annihilated in a nuclear apocalypse, fat chance Nick would ever lower himself to call.

By dinnertime, Nick is frustrated but satisfied that he knows where the trouble area is. One of two pieces has given out, both designed to be replaced occasionally. On one hand, that's a good thing — it's supposed to be done by novices, which means the manual is painfully clear on the method. On the other hand, there are only going to be so many matching radios out there, and who knows how many will have the same issue?

"It'll be okay," Kim reassures him that night. "Plenty of people get by without a radio, you know."

"That doesn't mean I wanna be one of them," Nick grouses, turning to pin his hopes selfishly on John. "You said there were bunkers around, right? And maybe one of them has a radio we can use?"

"I didn't promise anything," John clarifies, "But that would be my suspicion."

"Maybe it'd be worth it to look. Who knows, we could get lucky."

Kim doesn't look sure about Nick's optimism, but he ignores her skepticism. If nothing else, it'll be good to use John's old cult knowledge to benefit them for once, and that alone puts Nick firmly in the "in favor" group. Even if it turns out to be a waste of time — well, at least they'll have tried everything. For now, Nick can let Kim think up a contingency plan for a no-radio life — Nick is going to rest all of his hopes firmly on the repair plan and hope that it works out.

Nick wakes up last the next morning, sleeping in an extra half-hour or so before finally peeling his eyelids apart to face the sun. Even as he gets dressed, he feels groggy and slow, dragged down by a long night of forgotten stress dreams. His brain probably spent all night running through every possible outcome of bunker-hunting with John — not that it does any good now, when Nick can't remember any of it.

He isn't the only one who looks like they could use more sleep. Carmina is yawning over her breakfast, eating like a sloth as she processes being awake. The bags under Kim's eyes are darker than normal, too, but she's bright-eyed and dressed for the day.

John is the only one who looks like he's coping with the morning at all, but that's probably because he's been up for a while now. Ever since he's been given free rein, John's sleep schedule has put him as the last one to sleep and the first one to wake. Nick doesn't mind too much, though, since he usually brews up some coffee right before anyone else comes down. He's been arguing with Kim for the last few mornings about going by himself to pull water from the river for the house, but Kim is holding tight to her buddy-system, and John isn't going to convince her to give it up that easily.

From the way Kim looks at Nick as he descends the stairs, they might be arguing about it already today. "What?" Nick asks, "What'd I do?"

"It's not you," Kim says. She gestures across the table at John, who looks like he's been waiting for Nick to come to his defense. "Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

"The radio is the same make as mine," John tells Nick, clearly expecting Nick to understand what he's talking about. Fat chance there, though, because Nick has no idea what he means. "It might not be the same model, but it's worth a try."

"Uh... which radio are you talking about, exactly?"

John tries hard to not look like he's suffering at the hands of fools. He fails, but at least he directs his exasperated look towards the ceiling at the last moment. "In my bunker," he explains slowly. "I had a radio of the same make."

"You said yourself it broke," Kim points out, clearly repeating an argument from before Nick's arrival.

"All the more reason to not worry about scrapping it," John replies. "The bunker is closer than any other structure, and it's guaranteed to be there. That is as much of a blessing as you'll get these days."

Nick wonders at first why Kim is so dead-set against going back to John's bunker. Sure, the guy refuses to talk about it, and sure, bunkers in general seem to fill him with unshakable anxiety, but it's still just a bunker. A bunker with a radio that could save their asses, where they won't be stealing from someone who might need it just as much. And hell, John doesn't even have to go inside!

Kim sighs and says gently, "I just don't know if it's... the greatest idea." She looks sideways at Nick, who knows from experience that she's holding back her opinion for John's benefit. She probably doesn't want to be the one telling him he's too fragile to handle it.

"I'm not asking for your permission," John says. "If neither of you want to come with me, I'll go by myself."

"Oh, come on," Kim huffs, "Not this again —"

"If I want to go somewhere, I have the right to do so," John exclaims. "We've established that I'm not a prisoner, and I certainly am not a child."

Carmina huffs loudly, but John pointedly ignores her.

"Okay, okay," Nick says, holding out his hands in a poor attempt to placate all parties. "Look, if you're really dead-set on this, and you really think that the radio's gonna help, well..." He sighs. "Then maybe it's worth going to check out."

Kim looks mildly offended that he's taking John's side, but Nick knows how to reassure her, at least a little. "But there are some ground rules," he says. "You can come with me, but I call the shots. No acting like you know better than me, or deciding to run off and forcing me to follow you. You get it?"

"Of course," John says.

"I mean it. If I decide it's not worth it when we get there, you're gonna have to respect that. I mean, there could be snakes living in there now. I don't even remember if I closed the hatch, it could be flooded from the rain earlier this year."

John nods, so quickly that Nick wonders if he's really listening. "Yes," he says. "That's fair."

"I can't believe this," Kim sighs, relenting at last as she rubs her forehead. "Okay. But you both need to be careful." She looks at John. "Especially you."

"I don't..." John cuts himself off, reluctantly changing tactics. "Okay. Fine." He stands up, leaving his chair wide open for Nick to take as he says, "I need to get ready," and excuses himself. What he needs to get ready for when he's already dressed, Nick has no idea, but that's not exactly Nick's problem. If John needs to go talk himself through the decision he forced on Nick, then it's a good thing he's not involving Nick in any of it!

Nick's real problem right now is the way Kim is staring at him. "What?" he asks, sinking into the abandoned seat. She doesn't respond, and Carmina glances skeptically at her dad from across the table. "What was I supposed to do?" he asks, exasperated. "It's not like he was gonna let it go."

"You could have put your foot down," Kim says. She sounds downright disappointed, and that stings more than Nick wants to admit. "You could have taken my side," she adds, aiming her heavy frown at the coffee cup in front of her.

"We've been waiting for him to want to talk about it," Nick points out. "And anyway, we need a radio. If he can help, we should encourage it. Right?"

Kim isn't keen on getting into a fight right in front of Carmina, so she only nods her head in response. It's enough, though, because Nick does wind up feeling guilty for siding with John. Right or not, he probably should have negotiated that better.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he says. "You're right. I've got tunnel-vision with this radio problem, is all."

"I know," Kim sighs. "I just... worry."

"Well, don't. I'll be fine."

Kim rolls her eyes. "It isn't you I'm worried about, Nick." She looks towards the stairs, listening to John pacing up in his room, then reluctantly turns back to her husband. "Just... promise me that you'll keep an eye on him, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Nick replies. Kim doesn't look too reassured, so Nick reaches over and wraps her hand in his. "Really, I will." He glances at Carmina and tells her, "You'll keep an eye on mom so she doesn't worry all day, right?"

"Sure," Carmina says. Nick knows from the Kim-like tone in her voice that she thinks he's being an ass, but at least she's young enough to not call him out directly yet. All he has to do now is make sure that neither of his girls can rub his rash decision-making in his face when he gets back.

John is quiet as he and Nick make their way through the woods. The walk itself isn't too bad, less than a mile out from the edge of what Nick used to consider his property, but John is having a lot of trouble hiding how jittery it is, and it makes for a tense hike. He keeps speeding up and falling behind, as though he can't decide whether or not he wants to lead the way.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Nick asks eventually, unable to help himself. John answers with such a dirty look that Nick immediately goes on the defensive. "Hey, don't give me that. I just don't want you to, you know... start having nightmares about it or Joseph or whatever all over again. You're the one who's always been weird about it."

John scoffs but doesn't respond. From the way he glares at the ground, Nick figures he probably hasn't stopped having nightmares yet. That's... probably a good reason to keep him from climbing all the way down into the hole. Of course, Nick isn't sure that he'll really be able to stop John, never mind what John promised back at the house.

"What were you doing out here?" John asks after the silence grows out again. "When you found me."

"Oh. Well, I was sorta looking for places to put more traps, after I made them. And, you know, if there was anything left to salvage out here." Neither of those ideas had gone anywhere, although maybe now would be a good time to revisit them. "There's not much out here, though. There's that herd of deer to the north, and the river... we really haven't needed to expand so much."

John hums agreeably in response, although he doesn't have much to add to the conversation. Nick doesn't know how to keep it afloat by himself, so he doesn't, letting them sink back into silence until they finally reach their destination. Nick recognizes the spot by the shock of parachute fabric hanging in the trees, just a flash of artificial color behind the browns and greens of the trees.

Now that he has time to look around, Nick can sort of see where the land had been cleared for installation. Of course, the only remnant of the open circle now is the thinner layer of weeds over what looks like a thirty-foot rectangle. He doesn't remember anybody building out here, and he can't even fathom when they could have done it, but somebody came through here right before the apocalypse and made themselves a hidey-hole.

Nick doesn't wait to approach the closed bunker door, but John lingers at the imagined edge of the space as though facing a barbed-wire fence. He seems pensive and lost in thought, and Nick lets him adjust while he sweeps away dirt and scraggly tumbleweeds that have just started to cover the hatch. Just a bunker or not, it's got to be a lot to deal with, although Nick can't imagine why. No matter how terrible being alone had been, it couldn't have gotten worse than intense boredom. Hell, Nick's met two different people who had clearly let the cabin fever get to them, and neither of them could shut up about their damn bunkers.

Reaching down, Nick braces his legs on either side of the bunker door and pulls at the hatch. John is clearly holding his breath, even this far away, tension coiled in his shoulders and forcing his spine ramrod-straight. He doesn't offer to help, stuck in place like he is.

"Maybe you should stay up here," Nick offers.

Of course, John only scowls at the thought. "You won't know where to look. It would be faster if I went in alone."

"Yeah, Kim would love it if I let you do that. Don't be an asshole."

Nick heaves the door upwards. The rusted hinges scream in protest, as if they hadn't moved in years, but the door swings open after a few hard tugs on the handle.

John hesitates a second longer, then approaches the hatch. Nick goes over to the edge, crouching down so that he doesn't fall, and shines the flashlight down the ladder. The air is stale, smelling like rot and mold, and Nick can see a puddle drying at the base of the ladder. Well, that makes sense — there's no way the seal is still airtight. So much for closing the door from the elements.

"You ready?" Nick asks. John nods mutely in response, standing some feet away from the hole. "Really, John. You don't have anything to prove. Kim would probably be happy if you stayed up top."

John grimaces. "I'll go first," he says, his voice clipped.

This is a bad idea, and Nick knows it. A month or two ago, he'd probably have figured John was about to pull a fast one on him, but now he's more concerned that John is trying to pull something on himself. Confronting your fears is one thing, but as John climbs down the ladder and Nick gets a good look at his pale face and tight jaw, he worries that this is too much, too fast. Not that John seems to understand the concept of pacing himself — he seems more like the kind of guy to throw himself mindlessly at a problem until it shatters under the sheer force of his determination.

Nick hands John the flashlight before he gets out of reach, following him down the rungs as quickly as he can. They knock into each other as he reaches the bottom rung, and Nick turns to find John aiming the flashlight uselessly at their feet. Staring down the murky darkness that turns the bunker into a cave of unknown depths, John looks as though he might hear floodwaters in the distance.

Maybe he's just taken aback by how bad things look, even with only a little light to see by. The looming piles of garbage and years of refuse have turned the twenty-by-ten foot box into a narrow, craggy cavern. Nick can see a door at the far end of the gloom, cracked in the middle and left ajar in its frame, surrounded by a pile of overturned furniture. He spends a second or two trying to calculate the dark tally marks he can see covering the wall next to him, but there are too many and he can't keep track.

John takes a shuddering deep breath that turns Nick's attention back to him. "Hey," he calls, "You okay?"

"Yes," John replies, spitting the word out. He shakes his head heavily from side to side, just in case Nick missed the baldfaced lie for what it is, and takes a hesitating step away from the ladder. The breath he takes doesn't seem to give him enough air, and no amount of gasping can draw more in. He has a white-knuckled grip on the ladder, and it seems for a second to be the only thing holding him up as he visibly reels.

Nick hasn't been on the opposite end of a panic attack in a long time, but he's been through enough on his own to see that John is veering wildly in that direction. He's searching the walls, rapid-fire counting the lines, confusion breaking out on his sweaty, gray face.

"Hey," Nick says quickly, lifting his hands placatingly as he comes closer, "Hey, it's gonna be okay."

John shakes his head again, rapidly this time, abandoning any pretense of control. "No," he gasps, "No, I don't think it is!"

Goddamn it. Nick should have known better, he never should have agreed to this, he never should have let John come down here. He just — he hadn't thought it would be like this. He didn't know it could be this bad.

Nick puts off berating himself, at least until John's panic passes. For now, he focuses on damage control, guiding John's free hand to grab hold of the ladder, which is at least haloed in enough light to keep the worst of it from immediate view.

"It is gonna be okay," he insists. "Here, let's — let's get back up top. Get you some fresh air, okay?"

For a moment, it looks like John doesn't understand the concept, but his fingers eventually curl together on one rung. "I didn't know," he says unhelpfully, but at least he doesn't resist as Nick ushers him slowly up the ladder. He moves so slowly, paralyzed by each step, but Nick's only concern is making sure he doesn't fall on his way out.

The sun is right overhead as John slides out of the bunker, crawling on his hands and knees and collapsing several feet away from the opening. Nick hesitates on the last rung, knowing full well that they can't just leave now that they're here, but he has to deal with John first. The radio has waited this long — it can wait a little while longer.

John gasps for air a few more times, barely catching his breath. He doesn't look at Nick, but he offers him a miserable apology, mumbling, "Sorry," halfway into the dirt.

Nick crouches beside John, awkwardly shifting his weight on his feet. He's not sure what he's supposed to do here — he isn't used to being on this side of things, and Kim is so much better at calming people down than he is. The worst of the attack has passed, but Nick's not good at damage control.

"Hey," he says at last, "It's okay. Take your time."

There's not a patient bone in John's body, so it's a small miracle when he listens obediently, struggling until his breath evens out enough to ease the panic.

"I thought I could handle it," he sighs at last, his voice heavy with resignation. "I handled it for seven years, I thought..."

Nick doesn't think what he saw down there counts as handling it by any means, but he's not about to say as much. Truthfully, he doesn't know what to say.

"We should go," Nick says. "This isn't worth it."

John looks offended at the mere suggestion. "We came all the way here," he rasps. "Give me a minute. I'll — I'll go back —"

"Like hell you will," Nick snaps. He doesn't mean to, but damn, is John really such a masochist? "Look, just — let me go find it. You keep watch up here."

There's barely any hesitation before John nods miserably in agreement. He tries not to let it get to him, but he's already shaken by the underground and he's in a suspiciously fragile state himself. He hopes to God that he can find the radio on his own, and that it works enough to make this trip worth the trauma. If this doesn't work out, Nick is going to feel even worse about it than he already does.

It's not the best idea to leave John alone, but Nick forces himself to go through with it anyway. Armed only with his flashlight and empty backpack, Nick descends as quickly as he can, taking one last breath of fresh air before disappearing into the bunker.

God, there is blood everywhere. Nick's not sure how many of the streaks on the walls are meant to be counted with the rest of the tallies, scratched into the walls with what Nick hopes to God was anything other than John's fingernails. Everywhere Nick shines the light, he finds another smear of crumbling red blood, each one painting a different image of John's scars and scabbed over tattoos. The garbage is honestly overwhelming, with a decade of waste piled up openly on top of sealed trash bags, cans spilling across the floor, dirty clothes and ripped fabrics clumped together in haphazard nests that have molded and mildewed into an inseparable mess...

There's more room to walk than Nick originally thought, although there aren't many places entirely free of trash. Still, he hesitates to step outside of the ring of natural light above. After all, nothing about this bunker is safe. Looking past the garbage and the wreckage that John has left behind, Nick sees rust starting to form along the seams, and his first step feels uneven, as if they hadn't leveled the ground properly before installing and just couldn't be assed to fix it.

Jesus Christ. It's a miracle that John didn't die down here. It's surprising enough that it circulated enough air for him to survive. How the hell did he make it as long as he did in this death trap?

It's not a question Nick can answer, and quite frankly he doesn't think it's safe to spend much time down here ruminating. As a matter of fact, the less time he spends down here, the better. It's hard not to take note of the damage, though, especially as he searches for wherever John might've kept his radio. Lord, with the way everything seems to have been torn apart, who knows if it's even going to be in one piece? Or even somewhere accessible? Nick really doesn't want to go poking through the destroyed couch or the bags of trash heaped in confusing piles across the bunker.

He heads all the way to the back of the space, circling around an overturned table and seeing at last a small desk wedged into the corner, facing the ladder. The radio microphone hangs from its cord over the edge, and Nick has to repress a delighted shout when he sees that it's still in one piece. There's a crack along the plastic case, but other than that, Nick can see that it's a model very similar to the one back home — older by a couple of years, maybe, but hopefully not so old that it's no longer compatible.

He struggles to be careful as he loads the radio into his bag, but all he wants to do is get the hell out of here. It's only once he's pulled the heavy backpack back onto his shoulders that Nick takes stock of the position that he's in. Standing here, facing the ladder, Nick can see a definite barrier that John must've formed at some point — the table, the desk, even the broken down automatic washer, all of it has been set up as though John were planning to hunker down against an enemy attack.

On the ground, behind the table, Nick sees a book with a white leather cover. The gilded Eden's Gate emblem has been mostly rubbed clean off, but Nick has seen that book too many times not to recognize it for what it is. It's bloated with water damage and stuffed with ripped addenda that have filled the binding to burst, lying on the cement like an undetonated grenade.

Nick grabs it before he can think better about it. He immediately regrets it, mostly because the bottom cover has become slimy and the whole thing feels like it's going to come apart in his hands. Not knowing what else to do, he drops it onto the empty desk, wrinkling his nose at the squelching slap of wet paper on wood. He goes so far as to pinch the first few pages under his finger, ready to flip it open to some random verse — but even touching the cover leaves Nick feeling uneasy and watched. Honestly, just looking at it fills Nick with a sense of distant dread, the same hazy fear that came along with the first time he got a face-full of Bliss.

Fuck that, he decides. Whatever John's left in the book, it's not for Nick to look at. He already got what they came for, and it's been about five minutes; Nick can't leave John waiting much longer, and frankly he doesn't want to. With one last grimace in the book's direction, Nick beelines for the ladder. He stops trying to tabulate how many days John kept track of, stops wondering when or if he ever lost count, and focuses entirely on getting the hell out of the goddamn deathtrap.

It's probably just his imagination, but Nick can smell floral sweetness in the air as he finally escapes the bunker. He takes a deep breath once he's out, tipping his face back to gratefully meet the blue Montana sky.

John waits until Nick looks at him to ask uneasily, "Did you find it?"

"Yeah," Nick replies, shifting the backpack so that he can pat it reassuringly. "I think it'll work. I didn't check for the parts — I figure we can do that back home."

John nods a few times. "Good," he mutters, "Good," as if maybe he doesn't think it's such a good thing at all. He falls silent, and Nick realizes he's waiting for Nick to say something about what he saw down there.

Nick wants to say something. He doesn't know what, though. His own thoughts are scattered and confused. "Uh... you mind if I close it up?" he asks.

John shakes his head mutely in response; the clang of the door rises up through the air like a stricken bell, scattering some birds that had been resting in the treetops.

"So... uh..." Nick rubs the back of his head, trying to decide what to say before deciding lamely to go with, "Do you... wanna talk about it?"

The fact that John doesn't immediately reply tells Nick all he needs to know. When John finally says, "No," Nick knows it's a lie, even if he's not sure what to do about it. Nick's positive that they do need to talk about it. But he doesn't know how he can force the issue, and he's sure he's not the man to do it. John needs a licensed psychologist, or a goddamn priest, someone who can absolve him of whatever the fuck that all was down there, not a hick aviator who can hardly handle his own trauma.

"Are you sure?" he presses. "I mean..."

John stares at the dirt, his hands curling into tense fists. Nick moves immediately to rescind the question, but John beats him to the punch. "I didn't know it would look like that," he tells the weeds matted under his boots. "I didn't think it would... be like that."

Nick wants to ask how John avoided noticing the mess spiraling out of control around him, but there had been plenty of evidence down there that proved John hadn't been in a clear state of mind.

"There... were issues with the power early on," John admits, clearing his throat roughly. "I would have to... prioritize. Switch on the lights, switch off the ventilation system. Switch off the lights, switch on the ventilation. Eventually, I stopped switching on the lights."

He swallows a few times and tries to bring his eyes to Nick's, but he can't seem to manage it. "Really," he mutters. "We don't have to talk about it." But before Nick can agree, because he suddenly wants to hear as little of the story as possible, John continues briefly onward, staggering the words as though he's throwing them off a cliff. "I've been locked in the dark before," he says. "I thought I could handle it. But I... I couldn't."

Nick doesn't know what to say. He stares helplessly at John, waiting for Kim to materialize out of the wood and point out the obvious emotional cue for him to take, but there's nothing but John's uncomfortable expression and a quiet forest all around them. He should reach out, maybe. Offer him a sympathetic hand, or something.

"That's all I want to say about it," John says at last.

"Uh. Okay." Nick clears his throat, tries to think up a good joke to lighten the mood, and fails completely. He tries to come up with something to say that would share his sentiment but nothing comes.

"Kim will start to worry," John mutters.

Kim's gonna worry no matter what, but Nick doesn't bother to tell John that. If he thinks he can hide his emotional distress from Nick's wife, then he is welcome to try. At least that'll be more fun to watch than the slow implosion happening in front of him now.

Nick waits until the silence between them on the way back doesn't feel so thick, then tries to distract from John's deeply pensive mood. "I'm not looking forward to reading more of that manual," he says as they trace the path back towards the house. "But I also don't wanna screw up our only chance at replacing it. It's a real tough situation."

"I assume the pictures aren't clear enough for you," John replies. It's a joke insult that stings mostly because of John's brisk delivery, and he ducks away as soon as the words leave his mouth. Nick considers taking it personally for a second, until John wearily mutters a sincere apology into the air between them. "I didn't mean that," he admits roughly.

"It's fine," Nick shrugs. After all, Nick's used to being a self-defensive dickhead; he can't exactly take offense.

Casually brushing it off seems to be the wrong thing to do. John comes to an abrupt halt behind Nick, thick tears gathering and spilling over his closed eyelids. At first, when Nick turns, he can't comprehend the sight in front of him, watching John's face slowly turn red. John sucks in a wet, heaving breath, which only makes things worse as it turns into a sob midway. It seems to mortify John, but he can't stop, and all at once he's just — crying, and Nick is left standing there while John covers his face in humiliation and sucks in deep, horrified breaths. Words try to form between the sobs, but all Nick hears is desperate wailing.

"Shit," Nick says, setting down the backpack, "Okay, hold on —"

"—Didn't know what to do," John's saying, the words tearing from his throat. "I got trapped, I didn't —"

"Hey," Nick tries, "Just — take a breath."

John sobs, dropping to his knees in the mulch. "I lost track of it," he gasps, "I don't know what's real, Nick. How much of this is happening — I keep thinking I'm not — I'm not ever getting out of here, and I —"

Oh, Nick knows he fucked up real bad now. John's cries tear through the scar overlaying his heart, as though twisting a knife that's rusted over in his chest. Nick thinks back to the muttering, the distant looks, the unsettling nightmares, and now he kind of sees them for what they are. Deep, visible wounds on John's psyche that he should have caught sooner. Signs of a collapse much bigger than the one that put them in this world to begin with. Clear indications that John wasn't ready to go back.

"Please," John gasps. He doesn't ask for anything, so Nick doesn't know what he wants, but he repeats the word like it's the only one he knows. "Please."

"God damn," Nick sighs, coming to John's side. "You are a real piece of work."

He can't help but try to deflect, even as he reaches out to grasp the dented curves of John's shoulders. He knows there are deep, claw-mark scars under his hands, even if he can't feel them through the flannel of John's shirt. He thinks he understands where they came from now, although the concept is more horrifying than Nick is willing to consider; all he can do is be better than John had been to himself, and hope that's enough.

Nick barely pulls John in before he's being grabbed, desperate claws sinking into Nick's back as John scrabbles for a secure grip. He's shaking so badly that Nick feels it rattling his own bones. There's nothing for Nick to do but hold on while John desperately tries not to fall apart at the seams, struggling to form coherent words. Nick only catches some of them, as John tries to explain the barriers, the tallies, the scarred over spaces where he used to have tattoos, but he doesn't need to understand the words to see the wounds that are being uncovered.

"Alone," John cries into Nick's chest, "I was alone, the whole time, he said I wouldn't be alone —"

"Okay," Nick consoles, "It's okay."

John eventually calms down, although it's anybody's guess how long it takes for him to finally catch his breath. Even when he does, his gasps finally leveling out, he keeps a tight grip on the back of Nick's shirt. Not even Carmina has clung to Nick so terribly, and despite the fact that John has a couple of years on him, Nick manages to feel desperately protective in the moment. He can't help it. John keeps talking like he can't tell up from down, and he'd been trapped down in that hole for who knows how long without power, and from the chaos he'd seen, it's clear John has been trying to protect himself for a long time.

"I've got ya," Nick says after John lets out a heavy sigh, finally losing the strength to hold on so tightly.

John's sweaty face is pressed into Nick's shoulder, but the words are still clear. "I need this to be real," he admits quietly. "I can't go back there."

"You don't have to," Nick says. He's rubbing John's back now and he doesn't know when he started, but the guy seems so desperate for the contact that he can't bring himself to stop. "You're not making me up, you know?"

John huffs. There might be a laugh somewhere in there, or Nick might be imagining it. "I know," he rasps. "I wouldn't be so kind to myself."

Oh, man. Nick sighs, patting his back gently. "Gotta work on that, I guess," he says. "We'll get you there."

John's fingers curl briefly against Nicks back. "Thank you," he mutters. "God, thank you."

Nick lets the situation lie like that for a minute or so. John is the first one to let go, his arms falling away from Nick's sides as he leans back and takes a deep, steady breath of air. Nick lets him go with a heavy pat on the shoulder, relieved to have the space if only because it means John isn't about to collapse again.

"Kim was right," John admits, saying aloud the thought that's been repeating nonstop in Nick's mind. "I should have listened to her."

Nick gets to his feet. "Yeah, probably. Thank God she isn't the type to say 'I told you so,' huh?"

John sits back, scrubbing at his face with the back of his sleeve. "I hope so," he says.

"I think I know my wife pretty well by now," Nick chuckles, holding his hand out for John. "C'mon, let's get home before she comes looking for us."

For an awful second, Nick thinks John is going to cry again, but he only grits his teeth and takes Nick's help to climb to his own feet. He dusts off his pants as though his face isn't warped by drying tear tracks, wiping belatedly at the wet skin under his eyes as they start onward again. Nick doesn't let him trail behind too far, but he doesn't force John to keep pace either, leaving enough space so that John doesn't feel self-conscious when he starts sniffling again.

They haven't been gone that long, but Kim is still waiting for them outside when they get back. She and Carmina are reading on the porch, but as soon as Nick and John reach the driveway, Kim drops the pretense entirely. Nick hears John take a deep breath behind him; he looks back, but John's expression is too troubled to get a good read. At least he doesn't seem likely to bolt.

"We got it!" Nick shouts as they walk across the drive, lifting the backpack up triumphantly.

"Oh, thank God," Kim sighs, relief flooding her expression. "Nobody got hurt?"

Nick looks back at John, then shrugs. "Nothing we can't fix," he suggests.

John takes a breath. He looks like he wants to spill everything right then and there, but he boils it all down into a simple admission. "I'm sorry," he mutters.

Stunned, Kim asks, "Are you okay?"

"No," he quietly replies. "You were right."

Kim shakes her head, glancing briefly at Nick before putting a gentle hand on John's arm. He sighs shakily at the contact, but thankfully he doesn't collapse into another crying wreck. Kim looks like she's expecting something like that, but John manages to surprise them both.

"We can talk about it later, if you want," Kim tells him, patting his shoulder.

There's relief in John's voice as he suggests, "I'll need a strong drink before I accept that offer."

Kim shakes her head, laughing a little. "It's as good a place to start as any," she tells him.

Carmina, who's been standing on the porch looking increasingly bored, finally gives up waiting for attention. "Hey, dad," she calls, lifting the radio's manual up in the air, "Can I help with the radio?"

"So much for my technological superiority," Nick sighs, raising his voice to tell Carmina, "Sure!"

"I couldn't help it," Kim replies. She has a smug expression that tells Nick a different story, but he can easily forgive her for deciding to make their kid smarter out of spite. It's better than trying to poison him or running off with Hurk and his raider gang. "I cleared off the table for you," she adds, "And I brought out the radio so you could get a better look at it."

"I guess there's no better time to start than now," Nick says. He offers John a lopsided grin and asks, "So, uh, how much do you know about electronic repair?"

"About as much as you," John replies. He gestures his arm towards the house, saying, "It can be a learning experience for us all."

As if this whole year so far hasn't been one big learning curve. Nick shakes his head, leading the three adults up to the porch. Carmina disappears inside, triumphantly waving the manual in the air, leaving Nick to chase playfully after her inside the house. He catches sight of Kim talking to John on the porch, but Carmina is squealing delightedly in his arms so he can't quite make out the conversation. Later on, he can tell Kim about what happened, but for now, she seems content with whatever John is saying, patting him again on the arm before leading him inside. She shuts the door behind her, and for the first time in almost a year, Nick feels as though he's finally home, surrounded by people on the same page as him for once. This, he thinks, could very well be his new normal, and that's not so bad at all.

[rhinozilla]

Whumptober Day 19: Asphyxiation

Summary:  Gavin interrogates a suspect and gets more than he bargained for.

(With some references to my fic Protect and Serve)

--

The interrogation seemed to be going nowhere. ‘Nowhere’ being that seemingly wasted time of Gavin asking the suspect questions, and the suspect giving increasingly snarky answers.

Much of a hothead as Gavin could be, Fowler had only known him to lose his cool when the suspect wasn’t giving him anything. And yeah, he looked irritated by the suspect’s cyclical, smug answers, but he wasn’t getting heated. So he must have been getting something that Fowler wasn’t able to see through the glass of the interrogation room. As it was, he stayed in the viewing room, arms tightly folded, feeling the prickle of impatience crawling up the back of his neck.

The suspect, identified as Marshall Hyde, was the first break they’d had in months in the case of the new drug kingpin who’d set up shop in Detroit. There was infuriatingly little information that they’d been able to get so far, so Fowler could only gnash his molars as he watched Gavin send the lowlife through a fourth round of questioning.

One minute, it seemed they were in for another lengthy session of Hyde trying to be as unhelpful as possible to get a rise out of the officer.

The next minute, Gavin managed to retort with something that had the opposite effect, apparently hitting the bastard’s Instant Rage button. In a flash, Hyde was on his feet, yanking his cuffed hands from the loop bolted to the table like it was nothing, and then he was launching himself across the table at the detective.

“Shit!” Fowler took a step back, hitting Tina on the shoulder to get her on her feet. “What the Hell?”

A human couldn’t snap through those cuffs like that…but Hyde had been ID’ed as human when they brought him in. Fowler dismissed his disbelief as quickly as it appeared. The ID didn’t mean shit; that was clearly an android. The suspect known as ‘Marshall Hyde’ had taken Gavin off guard and tackled him to the floor.

Tina leapt out of her chair, cursing the whole way, as she flew out into the hallway and input the code to get into the interrogation room to assist. Through the viewing glass, Fowler could see Gavin trying to break Hyde’s grip and knock him off, but Hyde may as well have been a ton of bricks, pinning him down and wrapping both hands around his throat. He started to squeeze.

“Chen!” Fowler hurried out after Tina, seeing that the keypad on the door lock was red. “Open it!” he demanded.

“It’s not accepting the code!” she snapped, attempting it again. “He’s hacked it somehow and locked us out!”

Fowler nudged her back toward the viewing room. “Intercom Connor; he’s in the building somewhere. Get him to override it and unlock the door!”

Tina scrambled to the viewing room to access an intercom link, and Fowler could hear the sounds of a struggle coming through the door. Cursing, he punched in his master code, hoping it would be strong enough to break whatever lock that Hyde had put in place. The keypad remained red, rejecting his code.

The intercom crackled over the bullpen.

“Attention: 51. Code 2-0-2-1,” Tina rattled through the speakers.

The intercom went quiet again, and a beat passed. The red keypad remained for a moment, then abruptly flashed to blue as, wherever he was, Connor accessed the lock and initiated an override.

Text scrolled across the screen of the door pad.

RK800 Remote Access: Unlocked.

Thank fuck.

Fowler didn’t wait for the door to automatically open. As soon as it was open enough to get his hands in, he grabbed the edge of the door and shoved it the rest of the way open. Hyde’s back was turned to the door, too focused on choking the life out of Gavin, who had stopped thrashing on the floor and gone still.

“Get off him,” Fowler demanded, drawing his gun and aiming at him. “Now!”

Hyde turned, staying on top of the unconscious officer, but he glared back at the captain. Fowler took a menacing step closer.

“Move away,” he ordered again.

Hyde snarled, like some kind of animal, and then Tina and Connor were flying into the room after Fowler.

“He’s an android,” Connor informed.

“No shit!” Tina barked, drawing her weapon. “Take him down!”

Tina closed the door behind her, trapping the dangerous android from escape, and Connor attacked first, jumping the unarmed android and wrestling him off Gavin. Both rolled a few feet away, and Tina swept in between the altercation and Gavin. Fowler holstered his gun and crossed the room in two quick strides before kneeling down.

“Gavin! Reed, wake up!” He gave him a shake.

Gavin’s head turned as he started to come back around. A ring of red was forming around his neck where the hands had crushed his airway.

“That’s it,” Fowler urged.

Gavin coughed once, opening his eyes and staring up at Fowler with a blank look. Then they widened, and he coughed again, grabbing at the ground around him. The next cough was harsh and painful, and he gagged as he tried to pull in air.

“Easy.” Fowler put a hand on his chest, encouraging him to stay down while he caught his breath. “You’re all right.”

“F-fuckin’…” Gavin wheezed, coughing again and sucking in a greedy pull of oxygen.

Fowler glanced over to the other side of the interrogation room. Connor had Hyde on his front, one knee pressing into his back and a forearm around his throat. He was pulling the other android’s head back far enough to prevent Hyde from initiating a self destruct sequence: something every android associated with this new drug ring had done when they’d been apprehended. He and Tina got Hyde to his feet, with Hyde cussing and struggling the whole way.

Connor kept an iron grip on the other, looking to Fowler. “Does Detective Reed require assistance?”

“I got him.” Fowler jerked his head toward the door. “You take care of that asshole.”

“Yes, sir,” Connor replied, shoving Hyde through the door to be placed in holding.

“I’ll get someone from medical in here,” Tina said, holstering her gun and looking down at Gavin with concern.

“Nope…” Gavin groaned, shakily getting an elbow under him. “Screw th-that. M’fine.”

“Bullshit,” Fowler stated. “You lost consciousness. You’re going to medical.”

Gavin swayed on his one elbow, and Fowler hooked his forearm under his shoulder, hoisting him upright in a sitting position and leaning his back against the wall carefully.

“Chen, get some water,” he ordered.

“On it,” she ducked out of the room to obey.

“And you,” Fowler poked Gavin in the shoulder, “just pipe the fuck down and breathe for a minute.”

Gavin was still gasping in broken pulls, and he closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the wall.

“Sure thing,” he croaked out, coughing again. He opened his eyes but didn’t move his head. “That was a fuckin’ android.”

“Yeah,” Fowler said as Tina skidded back into the room with a cold bottle of water from the break room. “You can get under someone’s skin faster than anybody know, human or android…What’d you say to set him off?”

Tina twisted the lid off the water bottle and handed it to Gavin. He took it and held it up to take a drink, but he didn’t shrug off Tina’s hand at his elbow, steadying his shaky grip as he took a sip. Gavin swallowed and grimaced, holding the cold bottle against his neck where the bruises were forming.

“Connor confirmed Hyde was using a Jacobi Screen to mask his vital signs as human,” Tina said, smacking her hand to the side of Gavin’s boot. “We’ve got him locked up now.”

Gavin cringed and stubbornly shifted. “Get me off the floor.”

Tina scoffed and looked Fowler. He raised his eyebrows and nodded once. They each took an arm and helped hoist Gavin up to his feet. His knees wobbled.

“Sit down. Here.” Fowler gave him no choice, steering him to the chair beside the table.

Gavin sank onto it heavily, clearing his throat one more time before looking at the captain.

“Hyde slipped.”

Fowler narrowed his eyes. “What’d you get?”

“He is one of Ogden’s inner circle…Was. She won’t have anything to do with him now that I cracked him.” Gavin stated.

Fowler and Tina both straightened up. Fowler folded his arms and leaned in closer.

“She?”

“Yeah.” Gavin finally assembled a smug grin, covering up the pain in his throat. “She.”

It was a start.

Fowler smirked and clapped a hand on Gavin’s shoulder.

“Good work.” He watched Gavin shift the cold bottle from one side of his neck to the other. He glanced at Chen. “Get him to medical.”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded, poking Gavin in the arm. “You’re lucky you’re such an annoying bastard, or we wouldn’t have even gotten that much.”

“Hey,” Gavin complained. “I’ve been abused enough today. Cap? Come on.”

Fowler snorted and stepped over to the door. “She’s right though.”

Gavin frowned. “That’s,” he coughed again, grimacing and touching his neck, “—that’s fair.”

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Written In The Stars-- Brian May x Reader (1)

Part Two

Summary; An astrophysics student had the bright idea to form a band. He always had a passion for music and wanted to share that very same passion with others. Brian put up flyers on notice boards around campus, hoping that he could find other students to join him. After a couple of rather unsuccessful auditions, Brian found himself in a pub, during open mic night no less. That’s when he stumbled across you, a bartender who could play the piano. (Based on the movie A Star Is Born)

Warnings; specified fem! reader, slight language but that’s nothing new

Word Count; 1.4

Notes; yay! part one of my new series!! if ya wanna be on the tag list, let me know!!

Brian chewed on his lip as he lugged the massive amount of flyers across campus. Every once in a while, he would stop to hand some out to other students. He hung most of them on notice boards in different buildings. They were bright and flashy enough to draw attention to themselves. The flyers announced the forming of a new band; Smile. There was a part of him that doubted the name, but Brian tried to reassure himself “It’s a simple name, and it’ll be easier for people to remember,” he muttered under his breath, stapling the flyer to another notice board.

Brian had received a couple of calls from other students who wanted to join. Many of them, however, thought they were hotshots. They boasted about how great they could play, but when it came time to demonstrate, their lack of talent showed through. Brian would grimace with each sour note played, but he would put on an encouraging smile when the audition was over. “I’ve got a few more auditions this afternoon, but I’ll get in touch.” The student would leave, and Brian would try to erase the whole altercation from his memory.

Sure, you had considered going to university. You thought about getting a degree, but you weren’t sure what you would study. You finally decided that it just wasn’t for you. You had a perfectly fine job at a local pub. The pay was decent, and the tips were almost always amazing. It, quite literally, paid to be the only woman on staff. There were times where men would get drunk and start to harass you, but you had great coworkers who always had your back.

Wednesday nights were always your favorite. The pub hosted a weekly open mic night for anyone who wanted to participate. Local bands and singers would sign up a couple of days beforehand and then perform for everyone on Wednesday night. It was great. You got to listen to some talented people perform, or you got to laugh at the ones who bombed. Either way, it was always entertaining. 

Brian couldn’t take it anymore. He was about ready to rip his hair out and throw himself out of a nearby window. The cocky student beat the drums like a toddler hitting a ladle on his mother’s pots and pans. Finally, he lept to his feet and waved at the guy. “Okay, that’s enough! I’ve heard enough. Sorry, mate. You’re just not what we’re looking for.” The kid scoffed. 

“Your loss. Everyone says I’m great.”

“They’re lying,” Brian deadpanned, rubbing his face.

“Fuck you!” the guy shouted before storming out. Brian’s shoulders sank. God, he needed a drink.

The pub had only been open for about an hour. The only ones there were either staff, regulars, or musicians waiting for their turn to perform. As time crawled on, more and more customers trickled in. You did the same routine. Mix drinks, laugh at everyone’s shitty bar jokes, serve food, and clap for the performers no matter how terrible they were. 

You knew most of the regular customers’ faces, but open mic night brought along plenty of fresh faces. For example, the curly-headed man who had just taken a seat at the bar. You wiped off the counter in front of him then draped the small towel over your shoulder. “Hello, stranger. What can I get you?” He pursed his lips, leaning forward slightly.

“What would you recommend?” You grinned at him. He was definitely new.

“Well, we’ve got the usual- beers, liquors, and such. But we’ve also got some wine, and I can make a pretty mean margarita.” 

“I’ll take one of those, then.”

“Coming right up!” You hustled through the bar, mixing his drink. You would occasionally glance back at the stranger. He was intently watching the musicians perform. It was interesting, watching his expressions change. Sometimes he would grin and nod, while others he would grimace and turn his gaze elsewhere. He gave you a kind smile when you set the drink down in front of him. 

Your manager, Thomas, climbed onto the stage. He grabbed the mic, narrowing his eyes at a notepad in his hand. “Next up, we have- uh- Daniel MacNelly, who singing Setting the Woods on Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis, and George Cobbs, who will be performing it on the piano.” There was a small round of applause. Daniel pulled Thomas aside. He was clearly distressed.

“My pianist ditched me.”

“Okay, then just sing without the piano.”

“I’m singing Jerry Lee Lewis! I can’t do it without the piano.”

“Look, kid. I don’t know what to tell you. You either need to get your arse on stage and perform or go home. I’ve got a schedule to keep up.”

“Please, help me out here. Give me a couple minutes. Surely someone around here can play.” Thomas sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He muttered something under his breath before turning towards the bar. Thomas called your name and motioned you over. 

“Long story short, we need someone on the piano. You know any Jerry Lee Lewis?” You grimaced. 

“Only one song of his- Great Balls of Fire.” Daniel beamed.

“That’s perfect! Will you play it for me? Please?” The young man looked at you hopefully, like a puppy begging for a treat. You sighed, rolling your eyes. 

“Yeah, suppose so.” Thomas clapped your shoulder.

“You’re a good sport, (Y/N).” 

“Yeah, yeah.” You pointed at Daniel. “I expect you to buy a couple drinks and leave a pretty good tip after this,” you teased. He widened his eyes and nodded. Thomas made his way back to the mic.

“So, there’s been a bit of a changeup. Daniel MacNelly will now be performing Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis, and our very own waitress, (Y/F/N), will accompany him on the piano.” Thomas returned to the bar, and Daniel took his place behind the mic. As you made your way over to the upright piano that was sitting in the corner of the small stage, a couple of drunks shouted catcalls. You just held up a middle finger, which caused the crowd to laugh. 

Brian watched the scene curiously. His brows had knitted together. You didn’t exactly look like the type to be playing the piano, and your working as a bartender didn’t exactly help with that either. He couldn’t help but question your ability to play. Brian took a big sip of his drink, eyeing you carefully. When you started the song, a small grin quirked across your lips. The first couple of chords were simple, but as soon as Daniel finished the first part of the chorus, you launched into a series of riffs. Brian was taken aback. Your hands fluidly danced across the keys, as if it was second nature. Half the time, you weren’t even looking at your hands. You either watched Daniel or scanned through the crowd. Brian sat his drink on the counter, and his plan to get wasted was long forgotten. A large smile spread across his face as he watched you perform the piano solo. When the song ended, the crowd clapped and hollered. 

Daniel thanked you multiple times. You smiled and waved him off, saying that you had fun. When you returned to the station, the curly headed man waved you over. You smiled then pointed to his still-full glass. “Did you not like it?” His eyes widened as he let out a nervous laugh. A pink tinge spread across his cheeks.

“No, it was very good. I just... I just wanted to say that you were outstanding, from one musician to another. I’m Brian, by the way.”

“Thanks, Brian, but I don’t have time to chat about music right now.” You tilted your head towards the horde of people gathering around the bar. 

“I’ll wait for you.” Brian mentally swore, assuming that he had said that way too quickly, given the fact that your eyebrows jumped upward. “I mean, if you don’t mind, then I’ll wait till you’re not busy. You know, to talk about music.” You gave him a soft smile.

“Alright then, Brian. If you can wait that long,” you hummed before turning to address the ravenous crowd.

Tag list; @mothermercuryy

[wellamarke]

@humanschallenge day 7 ‘beach’

After the first attempt, Niska wanted to send them away. Hide them on the coast somewhere, just ’til she could be sure the cell had been eliminated. Mattie was torn: she wouldn’t worry any less in a strange place, she said, she’d just be away from the people she loved, and that wouldn’t be better.

The second time an intruder broke into the house, Mattie had packed all their belongings before dawn, pausing only to brain the would-be abductor with the crowbar she’d stowed under the bed, ostensibly to placate Niska.

“You win,” she’d said, when Niska had answered on the second ring. “We’ll go.”

To her credit, Niska hadn’t wasted a second on smugness or condescension. She was outside the house within minutes, prepared for the longest drive of Mattie’s life.

Almost three months ago, now. Mattie, living under a false name when any is asked of her, sports a far shorter haircut, several shades darker, and dresses Amelia in green and blue when they go out as an extra blind. The sea air blows colder than she’s used to, so scarves and hats are useful for more than just hiding her face. She’d even bought a new pram: a more robust model with wheels that can cope with sand. What’s the point, Mattie thinks, of being brought up by the sea if you never see the beach?

When Niska arrives for what she terms “a checkup”, Mattie is amused by how quickly she takes to the idea of a walk on the sea front. It’s hardly a tourist trap this time of year, but it’s a bright, crisp day, so there are a handful of people already scattered down the beach when they set out.

“So,” says Mattie, levity coming more easily in familiar company, “Am I supposed to call you ‘Marshall’ now?”

Niska blinks at her. “No. Why would you do that?”

“Well, on TV, when you get put in witness protection…” Mattie trails off. “Never mind. How is the treasure hunt going?”

This time Niska leaps straight for the correct interpretation. “We have names. Some have been dealt with, but their views are spreading. I can’t tell you it’s safe to come home yet.”

Mattie nods, jiggling the handle of the pram a little to make Amelia smile. “That’s okay. I wasn’t really expecting it to be.”

“I’m sorry,” says Niska, with unexpected sincerity.

“Are you kidding me?” Mattie looks across at her. “Niska, you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t create this situation.”

“Didn’t I?” It’s weird, so weird, to hear Niska in this kind of quandary. “If it wasn’t for me she’d never have been born, let alone born a symbol of the revolution.”

“You had nothing but good intentions,” Mattie insists. “People are poison, that’s all. That’s on them. Not you.” She sighs. “And not even V, much as I’d like to blame her.”

If she’s honest, she hasn’t always felt this easy about it - has spent her fair share of nights cursing Niska’s name, staring through the gap between the curtains and wondering who was out there, wishing harm on her infant daughter. But she’d refused to let isolation make her bitter, had instead used the empty hours to make peace with the whole situation. This was her life now. More importantly, it was Amelia’s life. Mattie had seen first hand how a mother’s unhappiness could inform a child’s view of the world, and holding Niska accountable for what people had done with her vision of utopia was never going to make Amelia feel any safer.

So she lives, and forgives, and chooses to see only what Niska had meant.

“We could have used V’s help for this,” Niska murmurs.

“Yeah.” Mattie presses her lips together, a sad kind of smile. “It was her choice. She didn’t have to give an ultimatum. She could have just left.”

“I know.” Even now, there’s grief there, remorse. Mattie wouldn’t wish what Niska had gone through on her worst enemies - or wouldn’t have, at least, before those enemies started threatening her child.

Up ahead of them, two children and a woman are playing in the sand, though their raincoats and gloves might fit better with building a snowman than a sandcastle. With a start, Mattie recognises Sophie’s silhouette, then Astrid’s. The boy kneeling in front of the too-perfect structure must be Sam, taller now in the new phase unit they’re calling his ‘growth spurt’.

“Niska…” Mattie starts.

“It’s safe,” comes the answer. “Just strangers on a beach.”

They veer off course, headed for the castle. Sophie spots them first, and barrels into Mattie like she’s six again, squeezing her tight before going to give her niece a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Strangers,” Mattie giggles. “All right.”

Astrid gives Niska a peck on the cheek when they meet, and Mattie savours the sight of Niska visibly melting into her touch. She doesn’t let herself think much about love, these days, apart from in a maternal sense, but Niska and Astrid are a special case.

Sam shakes Mattie’s hand. She chooses to see it as funny rather than sad. “Good to see you, Sammy,” she says. “Are you keeping Dad in line?”

He smiles then. “I’m doing my best.”

“Good. Keep it up.”

“Sophie,” Niska says, after few minutes of catching up. “Did you have something to show your sister?”

Sophie stands up from where she’s been bending over the pram - bending further than Mattie would have imagined, actually, because her baby sister really isn’t so tiny any more. “Oh, yeah,” she says, with the air of someone who’s learnt a script. “Further along, by the cove. Come on, Mats.”

Mattie follows bemusedly as Sophie pushes Amelia’s pram toward the rockier ground. Once they round the cliff, she spots Max, and is already speeding up to tackle-hug him when she realises that the slender, short haired synth with him is Mia. She’s crying before she reaches them, and wisely they stay close enough that she doesn’t have to choose who to collapse into first.

“It worked,” she gasps out, standing back to look at Mia properly. “When did—how long have you been back?”

“This is day five,” Mia says, peering out from under a thick, Niska-style fringe. She taps a bag slung over her shoulder, and Mattie notes how exactly it hangs in front of her charging port. “I have to carry power wherever I go, and my memory isn’t quite perfect. There are gaps.”

“But you’re here,” Mattie says, enchanted. She grins. “I don’t suppose you’ve forgotten the time I threatened you with a pellet gun…”

Mia returns the wry smile. “How could I ever forget such a special moment between us?”

This is clearly news to Max, who looks at them like they’re both mad. Amelia is obviously tired of them too, because she holds up both hands and coos, as if reminding them of her (far more interesting) presence. Max picks her up and agrees heartily - Sophie snaps a photo as the two of them stick out their tongues.

After a while, Mia asserts her claim on the baby (“she’s my granddaughter, Max, and you’ve seen her before!”) and Max takes Mattie aside after the handover. They drift a little further down.

“Did Niska organise all this?” Mattie asks in wonder. “Planting you all along the beach? It seems so…sentimental.”

“She feels responsible for you being in hiding,” Max says.

“I get that, but it’s all a bit fairytale, coming from Niska.”

“You’ve enjoyed it, then?”

“Of course,” Mattie all but splutters. “Why wouldn’t I…”

She catches the look in his eye, processes it the only way she possibly can. “Ah. So he is here.”

“Up the cliff path,” Max admits. After a pause, he adds, “You don’t have to meet him, if you don’t want to.”

She sucks in a breath. “It’s not that. I do want to. But he can’t stay, can he? The two of us, wherever we are, we put her in danger as long as we’re together.”

After the first attempt, Niska wanted to send them away. All three of them. Hide them on the coast somewhere, where they could be safe as a family. But the conversation that followed had gotten heated, pressure throwing accusations neither would have dreamed of hurling otherwise. Leo had gone to Max’s to cool off. Mattie and Amelia were followed home by someone who’d evidently heard, and understood, the altercation.

Niska had allowed Mattie one phone call to explain things to Leo, during the longest drive of her life. Since then, they hadn’t dared to contact one another, afraid of who’d be listening.

“You know that isn’t true,” Max says softly. “If you’re careful, it can be the same as before. Leo’s been hiding, too – and neither of you are happy apart.” He pauses, looks sideways at her. “Or maybe I’m wrong?”

“You know you’re not wrong,” she says, unable to sound quite as irritated as she’d like him to think.

They’re nearing the foot of the cliff path, now - rough, stone steps hewn out of the rock. Max looks askance at her as they draw level. Mattie nods. “Go back to the others. I’ll be fine.”

She can already make out a figure in the distance, wrapped up against the high wind. He’s looking out to sea, and although she’s still too far away to recognise the look on his face, she’s fairly sure she knows what it will be. She always does.

Mattie takes a deep breath, and starts the climb.

[ardent-apprentice]

Sol, The Ardent Apprentice

A short story by:  Ominous_The_Unknown

I

In the magical world of Runeterra, mountains move, forests come alive, the dead assault the living, and reality sometimes fractures to give a brief glimpse to the horrible Void beyond. But even though the arcane energies course through all the nations, there is no other place quite as whimsical like Bandle City, the central hub of Yordle life. Across the lands, these short creatures are seen in a multitude of different perspectives. Forest fae-folk, mischievous imps, urban legends, valiant warriors, and heinous villains, Yordles always seem to be synonymous with some kind of outstanding trait that makes them outstanding in their own right. 

During their early, formative years, young Yordles quickly come to find what makes them unique from one another and once they do, they soon set themselves down the path to honing their skills to try and become the best in their craft. Of course, not every Yordle specialized in entirely different things. It was common for some to be gifted a knack for tinkering and invention much like the great minds of Heimerdinger, Rumble or Ziggs. Others were given more physical, combative skills like Tristana or Teemo. And of course, there was the occasional magic user like Lulu. But what happens when your talent doesn’t manifest when it should? What happens when the people around you develop some kind of magnificent skill when you are left with nothing?

Sol was forced to ask himself this question many times over when he realized that the other young Yordles around him were attaining their unique abilities whereas he had none. In the beginning, he was assured that he would find his niche soon enough, but time passed and he still found himself left in the dust. He would watch as others were able to conjure small balls of energy, create phantasmal elemental displays, briefly summon ethereal aurora-like creatures, or even infuse machines to give them extra vigor. It wasn’t long before the older Yordles decided to properly study him. A few of the more astute researchers of the city came together and performed a few tests on him, hoping to find the answer.

Then, to Sol’s horror, he was finally given the bad news.

Unlike the others, the charcoal gray yordle was magically inept and lacked a mana pool to draw the necessary arcane energies do anything noteworthy. At that very moment, it was as if the weight of Mount Targon was set upon the Yordle’s heart. The information was a curse that forced Sol to watch helplessly as his close friends became apprentices to some of Bandle City’s champions while he was subjected to a mundane and unfulfilling life. Even at a young age, Sol felt that his dreams of becoming some well known Yordle had been destroyed. He grappled with the idea for a while and in the end, he outright refused to accept it. 

Bitterness and envy slowly slithered into the young Yordle’s heart, poisoning him ever so slightly, but instead of letting it destroy him, Sol used it to push onwards. Soon it became apparent that what Sol lacked in magical prowess, he made up for in tenacity, boldness, and creativity. Bullies would, of course, try to take advantage of him or tease him as they flaunted their skills in front of him. The name-calling, the minor physical altercations, the laughter, it stung, but Sol relied on the fact that they underestimated him so that he could beat them at their own games. 

If anything, his newfound strength despite his lack of mana actually made him stand out more because he would do everything in his power to ensure that no one looked down on him. He refused to sulk, he refused pity, and above all else, he sought to break the fate that had been cruelly handed to him. Within the Yordle, a sort of bullheaded attitude emerged as he sought to absorb as much information as possible to see if anything triggered some latent talent hidden within. Archery, crafting, smithing, politics, Sol would attempt to learn everything. Even when he didn’t become a master at it, he at least came away with some experience. Ultimately, this meant that Sol became known as a jack-of-all-trades. 

But once Sol became an adolescent, he realized that his accumulated skills still weren’t enough. Instead of continuing to study within the small confines of Bandle City. the abnormal Yordle made the decision to explore the world. Many people within the city knew that it was possible and that even some of the more famous Yordles had survived to become rather huge stars in other cities, but it was still a risky decision. The elders of the city said he was a fool and that without forging his own unique talent that he would quickly die without any ability to protect himself, but Sol’s close friends knew that because of his myriad of skills that he would forge his own path. 

The young Yordle quickly assembled enough equipment and other necessities and bid a fond farewell to Bandle City and its inhabitants before he journeyed outwards. He would find new mentors, make new friends and discover what was truly hidden deep within him. 

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

II

There were many limitations to being a Yordle. In some places they were seen as normal living beings with rights, others they were a myth and in a select few they were abhorred and either cast out like plague bearers or maybe even attacked on sight. With that in mind, there were unwritten rules for traveling abroad as a Yordle.

The first and probably most important rule is to never reveal oneself as a Yordle. Information travels slowly through Runeterra, and even though some progressive regions accepted all races that was not the case for the majority of the world. To socialize, most traveling Yordles were often given a magical glamour that would simply disguise them as short humans. There were some fringe cases of course, like the valiant Poppy, deranged Kled and estranged Lulu, but that was mostly because they were more than capable of defending themselves if they were ever threatened with violence. For other Yordles, physical altercations were best avoided.

Even with a rather large list of practical skills, without magical energy Sol’s friends and family knew that it would be best if he traveled prepared. Before departing, Sol was gifted an enchanted pendant that could accomplish such a task, but he soon discovered that his mana deficiency would cause issues. The glamour itself very slowly used up the wearer’s mana when being used, and in most cases, a regular Yordle could wear it for as long as they wanted since they would regenerate the energy just as fast as it was being depleted. So in Sol’s case, he could only activate the pendant for a few days before his body ran out of mana to power it, then he would have to travel as his regular fuzzy, self to recharge. There were many instances where that proved to be a huge disadvantage, but during his adventure, he just learned ways to work around it. 

Along with the stigma against his species, Sol also began to interact with various living creatures in the world. Some were warm and kind, others brave warriors filled with courage and honor, while a select few had bitterness and anger brewing within them. The growing Yordle had to observe and catalog every interaction as he started to develop his own set of rules to operate by when he revisited certain locations. His tome of rules slowly grew over time and he would openly share them with fellow Yordles that he happened to come across during his travels, for example:

 Never challenge a Noxian. Their hardy nature makes them competitive and their bloodthirsty traits mean it won’t take much until they lose their temper and draw a weapon.

If a Bilgewater pirate questions if you’re a Yordle, tell them you’re just small hairy and that they’re too drunk to tell. Also, always keep a few golden krakens with you whether you believe in their superstition or not, it may just save your life.

No matter how furry you are, always wear warm layers when traveling in Freljord and try to stay dry. Wet fur can turn into solid chunks of ice if you’re not careful.

STAY AWAY FROM THE SHADOW ISLES AT ALL COSTS

When in Piltover or Zaun, try to wear a magical glamour or at the very least wear a disguise. Both places demonize Yordles and have even imprisoned them. 

Piltover is nice, but there are many flashy hypocrites there who don’t know what they’re doing. However, you can always go to Heimerdinger at his laboratory for a safe haven since he’s a well-known researcher there. 

Zaun is dangerous for a litany of reasons, like roving madmen, and a bloodthirsty chimera wolf-thing and just rampant lawlessness. Also, be careful of friendly fire when traveling in Zaun, Ziggs is known to go crazy there from time to time. 

Sol’s notebook was starting to become an epic in its own right as it documented his travels day by day, carried numerous errata and inserted trinkets and drawings. His accumulated skills also made him a rather valuable asset in most situations as he was able to make himself useful in dire situations. Despite his short stature, Sol was able to repair a ship’s sail during a storm, cook meals for the less fortunate, and even help build makeshift shelters. Even though he wasn’t exactly perfect at the job, the mere fact that he would always volunteer to help and put himself out on the field made him very likable.  

He found himself partaking in many different adventures as he followed his heart and traveled all around the world. Sol had spent some time helping on a fishing boat, infiltrating bandit camps to save captured Yordles or even cavorting in ancient ruins to find treasure or long lost secrets. If anything, the exploration of it all appealed to him the most and he loved to dig deep into the history of long dead people and inspect the artifacts that they left behind. When he sometimes came into contact with ancient relics, they would flicker or light up as the energies bound within them were somehow stirred to life, but strangely enough, when he handed those very same items to his compatriots, the object would go silent. Sol would also discover old scrolls or books written in dead languages, but just after studying the strange iconography and hieroglyphs, he seemed to understand what they meant and in some cases could even pronounce them. Sol just attributed this to his litany of skills that he had built up though and didn’t think much of it. He never bothered to inspect the magical items further, since he knew that his minuscule amount of mana would never unlock the secrets within them.   

During one period, Sol had discovered a faded map of some ancient civilization in a nearby forest. He spent a week studying the language printed on it by reviewing what information he had and he deduced that there must be some kind of treasure hidden within. Sol gathered his belongings and started to move headstrong into the brush before he finally came upon his destination in a matter of two days. Using his uncanny ability to read the hieroglyphs and understand the ornate designs of the art on the walls, the charcoal black Yordle was able to avoid or even disarm most of the traps laid within the ruins before he finally discovered a hidden room with old leather-bound tome displayed on a plinth.  

Even though Sol was unsure of the book’s origin, he could at least surmise that it was important and the instant he set his hands on it, multicolored energy cascaded out of it in an aurora-like tornado. The book opened as light poured out of its pages and wisps of power trailed out into the world beyond. As the pages rapidly flipped in front of him, the Yordle looked on with confused awe as he realized that he was somehow barely reading the words as they flew past him. His lips began to move on their own as the energy within the pages abated and appeared to listen. But even then it was still too much. 

Sol had no idea how it was possible, but he could feel the energy pulsing through his veins before it started to become a searing hot pain that radiated through his arms and into his chest. The dark gray Yordle found himself unable to let go of the book, which brought a fresh wave of panic over him. He could feel his very life essence getting immolated from within as the foreign energies burnt to brightly inside of him. 

As he was about to pass out from the pain born of the immense power another aura entered the room. For a brief moment, a dark purple and green energy appeared before a bolt of arcane power shot out of the darkness and collided with the book in his hands. The force of the blast was enough to blast the book out of Sol’s hands before it spiraled away as a burning heap. Sol crumpled to the ground, chest heaving and his vision blurring as he barely registered a figure approaching him.

Clad in dark purple garb with a large wizard’s cap atop his midnight black fur, the infamous Yordle Veigar came forward and looked down at the fallen adventurer. Before Sol could speak though, the world around him faded to black as he slipped into unconsciousness. 

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

III

By the time Sol woke up, he found himself in a candle-lit abode somewhere within some kind of intricate cave system. His body ached but he was at least thankful he could still move. He lay atop a creaky old bed, with some decrepit bookcases and drawers to act as furniture. Everything seemed to be secondhand, scavenged and mismatched, and yet whoever assembled everything at least took the time to clean the dust away somewhat. He could remember an infinite well of power being poured into his body. So much power that it was actually agonizing. 

Without any introduction, Veigar began to berate Sol for how foolish he was being. The dark master of evil wasted no time in explaining how the tome was cleverly hidden trap meant to entice any curious magic user into coming into contact with it all for the sake of burning them from the inside out. He then expounded that if it wasn’t for him, Sol would’ve been turned into a pile of ashes on the ruin floor. 

The only reason why Veigar had decided to intervene was that he noticed something strange about the trap that Sol had sprung. He explained that the book worked by manipulating a person’s innate mana pool to disrupt the inner balance within it. What he found interesting was that Sol didn’t explode as he thought he would and instead somehow started to read the text even though it was a long-dead language. Veigar then immediately began to question Sol’s identity and how he was able to not only read but speak the dead tongue but to his surprise, the dark gray Yordle could offer no solid answer.

“I just have a knack for it I guess.” Was Sol’s answer as he gave a nervous chuckle.

His answer only made Veigar raise an eyebrow skeptically before he let out an irritated sigh and reached into his coat. He then withdrew what looked like an old bone with odd letters scryed into it before he tossed it carelessly at Sol. The injured Yordle yelped as he just barely managed to catch it but the instant he saw the letters the gears began to turn in his head. It was another dialect vastly different from the ones he had seen in the book previously and yet there was some odd feeling of familiarity to them. Before Sol could ask what it was, Veigar also took out his short staff and began to focus malicious power into it. The Tiny Master of Evil then pointed the empowered end of the staff at Sol’s face before he demanded that he read the letters. 

Panic immediately consumed Sol as his eyes widened and he assured Veigar that he just had a faint clue as to what the letters meant, but he could already see that the pitch black Yordle did not believe him. Sol could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest as the heat from Veigar’s magic staff brushed against his fur. He knew that reasoning wouldn’t work, so Sol looked down at the ancient bone and did his best to try and divine the meaning behind the letters. 

To his surprise, everything began to click for the charcoal gray Yordle as it seemed like the ancient inscriptions somehow morphed into the words and letters that he was familiar with. Unsure as to how it was possible, Sol didn’t care and simply began to recite the words on the bone, hoping that it would appease his captive. The more Sol spoke, the candles in the room began to burn brighter before they shifted into a lavender hue. He continued to read the words before Veigar finally snatched it out of his hands and snickered. 

Scared and confused, Sol asked the mage what just happened as Veigar just smirked at him. He was able to somehow divine the meaning behind dead languages before, but what he had done was on an entirely different level. Veigar then explained that somehow, someway, Sol’s innate trait was the ability to read and tap into the magic trapped within ancient artifacts. His lack of a large mana pool actually made him the perfect conduit for oddities and enchanted items to flow and mesh with him. 

To further prove his point, the pitch black Yordle went over to one of the nearby shelves and carelessly pulled out of the book before he threw it at Sol. He explained that many of the books that he had procured over the years were magical in nature and most were inscribed in foreign languages both living and dead. Sol gingerly opened the book up to a random page and to his surprise, he could understand the words in there as well. Next, Veigar took what looked like an orb of polished onyx and handed it to Sol. From what the mage knew, information within the book could unlock the true potential of the artifact and he asked that Sol read a passage to see if anything happened. 

Nervous, but now somehow energized at realizing his dormant talent, Sol carefully read the text before he slowly began to say the words. As he did, the orb began to vibrate and emit a low hum until it started to float. 

Giddy smiles spread across both Sol and Veigar’s face at the sight of the activated artifact before the black furred Yordle crossed his arms. He then gave Sol the opportunity of a lifetime by asking if he wanted to become his apprentice and help unlock and master the magic-infused within all of the items that he discovered. Feeling that he already owed the mage a debt for saving his life, Sol gladly accepted the offer and soon his real work began.

Once he was fully healed, Sol would spend hours pouring over books, scrolls, and engraved tablets while at the same time handling and coaxing the magic out of ancient artifacts and weapons. To both his and Veigar’s surprise, he was able to unlock their true potential fairly easily as the dead languages flowed from his mouth and further accelerated his learning. Sol’s arsenal of artifacts soon grew over the years as he and Veigar traveled around, collecting items and deciphering old script as the charcoal gray Yordle was perfectly content with being a lexicon of antiquated knowledge. 

[praphit]

The X-People: DP Degrees of BS

Frickin Phoenix!

(What does that even mean? “Every hero has a DARK side?” She kills people! Are all of our heroes murderers? - but I’ll get to that later.)

I'm mad! That's right, people! I'm mad at MYSELF! Why? Well, I could have taken the kids to go see "The Secret Life of Pets 2", so we could laugh our asses off (Idk what kids I'm talkin about - just randomly picking kids up off the streets and taking them to see movies... prob best I didn't do that). 

I could have seen something cultured like "Late Night" or "THE LAST BLACK MAN IN SAN FRANSISCO"; which I admit is a stupid title, but it seems like it's a good movie. But, no, people! My comic book geekiness would not allow it!

Instead I went to see this bullshit right here - “X-Men: Dark Phoenix”. 

Don't look at me that way, Sansa! You know dag gon well this movie is some ol' bullshit!

You know! The rest of your acting squad knows, the director knows, the writers know - I knew from the first trailer! I knew from the first time they announced that they were taking another crack at a cinematic Phoenix story. Why?? Cuz we've done this before! Yep! 

There it is! - and it was terrible! 

What’s going on with that poster? Apparently, they didn’t have any confidence in that movie either. Why is Wolverine running at me like Sonic the Hedgehog?

I tried to find a better poster, but...

Here they look like they’re posing in some 80′s rock video. TAKE THAT STAND:)

I was mad back then with the first trailer, because I knew that this moment would come. And I actually really liked the first two movies of these particular X-Men. It was Apocalypse that ruined everything. 

People thought that movie was so bad, that it erased all the good that this franchised has done (even going back to the older X-Men):

The ground-breaking 1st movie (tho it prob doesn't hold up),

(Creepy old Magneto is coming for dat ass!)

Wolverine 

(it's hard to imagine anyone playing him better than Hugh Jackman. And he should have won an award for how cut he got... and he was so modest. If I ever  end up looking like that, WHEW! - ladies look out:),  

I loved Patrick Stewart as Prof. X, James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender's intense hot & frigid bromance (though we never got our make-out seen:), Quicksilver (man, I wish we could get more of him), "Logan" (excellent comic book movie), and I'm not sure if we'd have Deadpool without them ruining that first Wolverine movie. Not to mention that they marketed the hell out of this movie franchise and made so much money! But, then this guy showed up and effed it all to hell!

("Everything they built will FALL... ")

- you ain't lyin, jack!

And while that movie was terrible, it wasn't as bad as everyone said. Bullshit sure, but... there are different degrees of bullshit. Apocalypse was forgettable BS, sometimes there's BS that makes us laugh, or think, or cry - what type of bullshit will Dark Phoenix be? -  Let's take a look:

This movie kicks off with the X-Men in space. Yep! SPACE! Since when are the X-Men astronauts? Which movie did they get training for any of that? How did they build an X-Jet for space travel? Did they learn it on YouTube? And even if that were the case, how's the government allowing this? If a group of talented minorities built a functional space craft, do you think President Trump would allow them to come and go as they please? Shiiiiiii In the movie they don't even test it first. Xavier just says that they'll be fine, and sends the kids off.

I think that there needs to be an investigation. Prof. X is trying to kill these kids. He keeps sending them on missions that they shouldn't come back from:

X-Men: "But, professor, we don't know how to disarm a bomb!"

Xavier: "You'll be fine."

X-Men: "But, professor, the X Jet isn't built for deep sea exploration, we don't even know where we're going!"

Xavier: "Y'all will figure it out."

Then, as they come back, he's counting to see if they all made it - "Ten kids left, and coming back, I count... ten DAMMIT! But, wait, one is injured... doesn't look like he'll pull through. YES! (as he drinks some bourbon - which he does at an alarming rate in this movie... prob to block out all the kids he has killed).

While we're on the topic of him - did the movie "Split" ruin James McAvoy's take on Prof X for anybody else? This is all I kept seeing when he was on camera.

But, as you know, cuz they did this exact plot in "X-Men: Last Stand" Jean Grey gets possessed by some space entity while they're up there, and becomes Phoenix.

Jean (played by Sophie Turner, who actually does a good job) is found to have done something horrible. Xavier (and this is no spoiler, cuz again X-Men: Last Stand") blocks out the bad stuff she has done to try to protect her, this eventually wears off, and now we get DARK 

...wait, sorry.

Now we get DARK PHOENIX! 

There we go!

(”Where’s my money?!”)

Now, Jessica Chastain is in this as well seen here, experimenting with bleach,

 who's leading a group of aliens to manipulate Jean (I'll get to them later). But, if JC is in the house, you can be sure that a women's rights message will be in there somewhere (#drinkinggame) And BOOM, there it was - "Don't let some MAN in a chair tell you what you are? - what you can and can not be! Don't let him controoool you!" 

I'm all for girl power, buuuuuut she HAS been on a bit of a carnage streak, and she has been killing people, annnnnnd isn't Jessica Chastain also trying to control her? But, imma let all that go... what do I know?? :)

I gotta be honest, I was digging the first half of this movie. They were capturing everything I love about the X-Men: social issues, political issues, teen struggles. They have lots of real drama going on amongst themselves. There are times when you'll cheer the X-Men on and times when you'll agree with some of the humans that THEY GOTZ TO GO! I love the flaws of the X-Men; it makes them relatable. I even love the struggle with having so much power, and yet having to try to walk a line of morality - which they suck at btw.

The professor sucks at it the most, which made me kinda sad, actually. BUT, to be fair, he has the power to control people's minds... would any of us with that power be able to consistently resist certain temptations?? Def not giving him a pass though. He does a lot of messed up stuff (some things they draw attention to, and others that they don't). Some things that made me cringe, even though MOST of what he was doing was out of love. I can't depend on none of my fave leaders anymore - not even the fictional ones.

We were getting into some deep stuff! BUT, then it was as if some big shot walked on the set and reminded them that they have a "Blow shit up" quota to meet, and that the plot points were slowing them down. Soooooooo, they burn the script and start blowing things up. Some people might say "Praphit, this is a comic book movie, how much script can you expect?" If this were 20 years ago, I'd agree.

Plus, it's more the fact that nothing makes any sense at this point.

Magneto (who's always the voice of reality in these movies, in my opinion) wants to kill Jean (for very good reasons), but he knows that he can't take Phoenix by himself, so why is he trying? He's a smart dude; why not come up with a better plan? Prof X wants to talk to Jean, to reason with her... the problem with that is that they just tried that a few days ago, and that couldn't have gone any more terribly than it did. The aliens in this movie (which lack all personality btw), who's objective is to control Jean, also know that they can't really do that or take her out (which was plan B), so... what the hell are we doing? The aliens are supposed to be the smart ones!

Prof X should have just controlled everyone's minds, and played a big game of immoral chess to take Jean out - that would have been a cool movie. But, this (though the effects are VERY COOL:) simply became a shoot-out! Not to mention, that right before all of this awesome, but confusing damage takes place, they have a big speech about restraint and not doing harm. Literally, a minute later, the X-Men are blowing buses up!

But, all of that is not even what makes this movie bullshit (grade: D+ btw). What makes this movie bullshit is the fact that it's the last one before Disney takes over.

You'd think that they would have given it their best, so that they can go out making us miss them! But, it felt like half way through the movie the team was told that this is all over, and that Mickey Mouse is coming to collect, but instead of going out with their best, they said to themselves "bleep it" and mailed-it-in.

The way that the final battle scene ends doesn't make any sense. It's one of those scenarios where "If you could do that... why didn't you do that earlier and save more destruction?" and a lil bit of "Well, if you had THAT much power, then none of these other altercations should have even been close."

The way it ends after that too! Man! It's like they just fast forwarded through the parts they didn't feel like acting out. This is the last one, people! Just lazy!

Yeah you!

I've got a spoiler, sooooo if you don't want it, skip through the text after Patrick Stewart - and start reading again when you see his handsome face again:)

(this is back when I learned to love this man)

So, Jean is... gone (possibly dead), and the X-Men name the school after her "Institute of Jean Grey" or something like that. Also, Prof X steps down (maybe due to guilt of his misatkes with Jean, who knows for sure, cuz they didn't act it out), and leaves Beast in charge in with the other teen X-Men to instruct the 'young kids at the school. "Other TEEN X-Men" Did they just make these kids professors? And what qualifies Beast (at this stage in his life) to run the school? Plus, Jean Grey was kind of a murderer wasn't she (and this wasn't a secret from the rest of the world)? Come on,kids, let me sign you up for "Ted Bundy's School for gifted youngsters" Would you be onboard for that? Hell no!

(Here’s PS fresh off a bender. “I promise, Timmy, I’ll try to think about never touching the sauce again, but this hair says that I will.”)

So... I'd say, entertaining bullshit. The effects (especially) at the end are great! But, the rest... and to go out like this... ugh.

There's a cool quote in here from Mystique (played by J.Law) who clearly didn't want to be there. It was a quote about how the women in the X-Men seem to be sticking their necks out and saving the day way more than the men, and that  maybe Xavier should change their name to “The X-Women”. I thought that was not only funny, but a damned good point. I say do it!

I'd love it if you had a a big strong manly man of the team go ahead of the action and stand up to the enemy, and when asked "Who are you?" he replies

"We're the X-Women."

[theincompetentgenius]

Hello 😄 Life generator is totally awesome idea! I already love it and would like to request one for Arcana world. I hope it won’t be too much of a problem, and thank you in advance ❤️

I’m a big science nerd, especially good in math, hungry for knowledge, with unsatiable curiosity. But at the same time, i radiate dumbass energy. Most of the time i’m silent, because i don’t really know what to say, since my mind is tv static. I enjoy creating, my hobbies are singing, drawing, painting, scupting, embroidery and other forms of crafting. But i really don’t have any creativeness on my own. And i lack in artistic skills, but i substitute it with persistence. I’m really patient and can go over one place hundreds times until i’m satisfied, and i’m never giving up on any wips, they just wait for their turn (..same about people, even if have no contact with them anymore i still consider them as friends, i don’t cut ties). Even if they pile up and there’s probably no way to finish it up in one lifetime. Damn, i wish i was immortal. There’s so many knowledge and skills to learn, and art to consume and create in the world. But i don’t really have any passion or hiperfixation, i’m just all over the place, a jade of all trades and master of none. Most of the time is spend resting, on internet, because i run out of energy far too quick, especially physical and social. The problems of being contained in a body that wants to rest at all costs xd Physically i’m really weak, even though i work out regularly, my super low endurance doesn’t improve. I’m so quickly drained and need to recharge that for long so it looks like i’m lazy. Basically i’m never bored, but i can get frustraded when i’m wasting time.

I’m pretty open and honest person and have no brakes, i overshare whenever i have occasion (as you can see xD). I’m not hiding my emotions, except showing that someone hurt me (because i’m too proud to do that if that was meancingly, or i don’t want them to feel bad if it wasn’t). I’m friendly, very empathetic, eager to help if approached. I can easily put myself into other people’s shoes and always try to understand where others come from, their reasoning. And i care about others’ well being. But i’m quite a hermit, i barely have any social needs, and never approach people first. I’m fine on my own. Since i can remember, i only lived inside my own world in my head. Being around people is nice too though, but i’m pretty socially clueless. I don’t really experience loneliness, unless i miss certain people. And that happens super rarely too, i don’t get that attached to even closest people. But it happens, i can get really attached.

I can get anxious and uncertain around people, because i don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, cross boundaries or face any sort of negative consequences. But i don’t care what people think of me n my actions, especially if i don’t know them. Social norms are only chains. There’s no reason to follow them. I prefer my order of doing things. Order is really important to me, i need it for my things, my actions, my plans. My free time is dictated by algorithms i make, that get more and more complicated with each update. Most of the time i’m in neutral state, pretty apathetic. Emotions can be easily triggered, but die as fast and i go back to the state of nirvana. I rarely get stressed and don’t care too much about issues, life always works out in one way or another. That’s why i’m chill, patient and calm.

I love cute and pretty things, sweets, plushies, hugs, cats. When it comes to nature, sure i like it and it is interesting, but i don’t really like being close to it because of bugs. They’re yucky >.> I’m hesistant about a lot of stuff and super cautious about things that could cause physical harm, which i guess makes me a coward. And i don’t enjoy travelling. I mean it is okay, but doesn’t spark any emotion, besides maybe knowledge seeking. Instead, i’m big fan of magic and powers. Not that boring stuff like astrology, but rather like you k'now, superheroes or wizards things. Wish that kind of stuff existed irl, and wish i had it all, just like with irl skills xd Also i’m really, really picky eater.

Thank you for your interest in the world of The Arcana. You will be reborn into your new life shortly. The simulation will begin in 3…….. 2……. 1……..

B A C K G R O U N D

Your mother had left you in front of the doorsteps of a poor orphanage when you were only months old. She felt that she was unfit to take care of you because she was not financially stable, but she could only hope for the best for you. Fortunately, you were left at the hands of caring and understanding individuals who supported you through your childhood. However, your scattered interests in the arts, sciences, and magic had left many people confused. They couldn’t wrap their heads around the concept that a young girl could explore such complex concepts, but that never mattered to you. Your interests were in your newfound magic. While you wouldn’t practice magic in public, you would use it when necessary or convenient. Yet these few moments caused panic within your town. You were becoming too smart, too powerful, and too curious. The townsmen felt threatened by your mere presence, so they banished you from the city under the pretense that you were a “threat to their well-being.” Yet you never saw the bursting potential buried within you.

F R I E N D S  

Julian

Now that you had been kicked out of your hometown, you had absolutely no idea where to go. There weren’t too many cities near your own and you weren’t sure if you had enough supplies to last you through your entire trip. Although you were sure that you could find a small village nearby, you still felt the need to check over your supplies to prevent excessive spending. The fact that you had to travel through the heat didn’t make things any better.

You aimlessly wandered through the leafy forests, hoping that the direction of winds, clouds, and the sun would give you some indication as to where you were. Unfortunately, you had crossed the same dead lizard five times. You were moving in circles. A sigh escaped your lips as you trudged through the forest. Your mind had gone blank and you couldn’t think of a plan to get yourself out of this mess. Your calm demeanor was wearing thin as all your plans had begun to fall apart.  The thought of blasting yourself into the sky with air magic had crossed your mind, but you knew that you were incapable of landing safely.

In the midst of your thoughts, you bumped into a tall, brooding figure. You instinctively elongated the vines from the plants, preparing to attack whatever was in front of you.

“Don’t hurt me with those vine things! I’m just a traveler!” A man with cooper hair and an eyepatch yelled.

You did a quick lookover and dropped the vines from your grasp. The man let out a sigh of relief and scrambled to his feet. He looked back at you and collected his things. Although you did not want to speak to him, he probably knew the jungle better than you and was your possible ticket to getting out of this mess. You mustered the courage in your chest to call out to him.

“Wait! I’m sorry that I shot those vines at you. I thought you were a monster, but that’s beside the point. Do you know where we are?”

He looked around with a suspicious glance. “I have a general idea. Can’t you use your magic to get yourself out of here?”

“If only I could, then I wouldn’t be wandering around with a loaf of bread and a flask of water.”

The stranger let out a chuckle. “I suppose you’re right. How did you get stuck in this place?”

And so you told him your story and your woes as an exile. You looked away, expecting him to make a rude remark but he chuckled and shook his head.

“Maybe we’re not so different, Magician. I happen to be an informally-exiled doctor for murdering a Count.”

You raised your eyebrow. For a murderer, he was rather friendly. Before you could ask any more questions, he told you his story (or whatever he remembered from it). There seemed to be many holes, but you were fairly entertained by them.

“Is Vesuvia close by?” You asked.

“Yeah, just a little down south. I’m going there to get some answers about myself. Are you going to join me?”

Other friends: Nadia, Muriel

R O M A N C E

Asra

Once you arrived at Vesuvia with Julian, the two of you went separate ways.  Not that any altercation had taken place, but Julian was more focused on uncovering his past while you needed a place to stay. So you went about, searching for possible adobes for shelter. They were either too expensive or in terrible quality. But you didn’t give up, there had to be something you could find.

As you passed through the unfamiliar streets, you looked for possible places to sleep for the night. The pillar looked too stiff, the grass was too moist, and sleeping next to a building would hurt your back. Things were looking rough for you.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a tap on your shoulder. You spun around to see a handsome young man with fluffy, white hair and a soft smile. “You look a little lost and I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Are you new here?”

You let out a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I’m just looking for a place to stay. Do you know any place that’s inexpensive but sanitary?”

The man placed his hand on his chin, presumably to think of an answer to your question. After a moment, he responded. “You can stay at my place for the night. It’s not big, but it has a cozy feel to it.”

You shook your head. “You’re too kind, but I can’t infringe on your privacy like that. After all, you must have better things to do than help a random vagabond.”

“Well I used to be a vagabond myself, so I know the pain of wandering around with no place to go.” A snake slithered from his sleeve and cocked its head. “See? Even Faust thinks you should stay over.”

“You’re too kind!” You were about to accept his offer, but a new thought crossed your mind. What if he was trying to lure you to his home for dangerous reasons? There was no way to verify that he wasn’t a kidnapper or someone with ill intentions.

The stranger noticed your sudden discomfort. “If you’re worried about ill intentions, that was probably the furthest thing from my mind. How about you I show you around Vesuvia instead? If you feel more relaxed, you can stay at my place. But I’m not pressuring you if you don’t want to.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“By the way, my name is Asra. Shall we get started on this tour?” The two of you wander through the colorful stalls of the city, examining the golden trinkets and wooden toys. There were racks of fruit neatly organized based on size and color with shelves of pastries next to them. Asra bought you a few desserts despite your protests. Although most products were overpriced, there was a rustic charm to them all.

By the end of the tour, you felt more comfortable around him. The two of you had spent the time exploring and talking about anything and everything. You even told him about your exile from your hometown. As he heard the story, he placed his hand on your shoulder.

“You know, I’m a magician too. If you ever need help with anything, just let me know.” He gave another one of his angelic smiles.

“Thanks. I think I’m mentally okay, but I do need to strengthen my magic.”

“I have an idea to fix that. Would you like to become my apprentice?”

F I N A L    F A T E

Originally posted by autumncozy

You had taken Asra on his offer to become his apprentice and ended up staying at the shop for convenience purposes. It didn’t matter because most of your time was spent with Asra to improve your magic. Although you claimed to not have an affinity towards any type of magic, Asra would say that you were the best at everything you attempted. With each practice session, you grew better and more skilled in your magic. It was only a matter of time before the apprentice had become the master. Asra was amazed at your progress, but you weren’t so confident in your own abilities. There was always room for improvement in your eyes.

Word had spread that another talented magician had entered the Vesuvia, but that never bothered you. If they could accept Asra, there was no reason for them to mistreat you. Not everyone was as biased and prejudiced as the people of your hometown, yet you were cautious when performing your magic in public. When you did, you were surprised when receiving compliments and paid jobs from the public. And to make things better, Asra was always there to help.

Soon, the two of you felt that the shop’s business wasn’t doing too great and decided to close it down. After all, it gave you more living space so it wasn’t the worst feeling in the world. Instead, you came up with the idea to teach other aspiring magicians so they would not be stranded like you were. At first, Asra was unsure since he wanted to live alone together in a cottage further north from the city. But when you made the compromise to teach magic only during the summer in a remote location, he couldn’t refuse. He’d still have you all to himself during the spring, fall, and winter. Well, as long as Faust didn’t steal you away from him.

As time went by, you went on to train some of the most powerful magicians in the following generation. Some had gone to save other countries from treacherous monstrous while others had become the monsters themselves. There was regret harbored in your heart for you could not have the one who turned towards the dark path, but some people could not be saved. Nevertheless, you will be remembered as one of the pioneers of magic; it’s influence spread across the globe

T H E   E N D

[ff15trashgoldenslumbers]

This is one of the two ends for the End of Eos series. Each ending has a different viewpoint and either can be your cannon! Please enjoy the conclusion of the series.

Lux Finem 

You held your rapier in hand, your body covered with a white dress, you always figured that the only white dress you would wear would be the wedding dress that Lunafreya provided you for your upcoming nuptials. Still, it made you nervous, the plan was thrown together in under a few days, even with those on the inside, Ravus, and Araena, as well as Ignis, even Lunafreya and Clara all working together it still had a chance of failing.

Ardyn was a rather wild card and with your altercation on the beach, you already knew that you only saw a fraction of his power. It also left that Noctis had yet to make a convent with all the gods, you were only going on this with a wing and a prayer.

Plus Lunafreya was offering to make the first convent on Noctis behalf with a goddess who hated humans, not as much as Ilfrit did but Leviathan was pretty high up there and was rumored to have a horrible temper. Yet your sister would not go it alone, you were there to make certain that all of you would come out alive.

“The Empire will attack, they will see the opening.” Ignis stated, “It was already determined that they would kill Lunafreya given the chance.”

“Even more of a reason to have me out there,” Ravus replied.

“No, we need you with Ignis.” Lunafreya offered to her elder brother. “Besides Y/N is going with me.”

You smiled to the woman beside you taking her hand, “Araena, stated that they’d be coming from the sky, there’s no way that they’ll be able to tell the difference between two women dressed in white running around from that distance. We divide and confuse them, take them  out that way.”

“What of the convent?” Clara inquired.

“Either of us can do it.” You explained. “Preferably Luna, this way I can provide coverage for her, and Amor will cover from a vista point elsewhere as a sniper, and everyone else stays within the crowd.”

You would much prefer for the crowd to not be there, but it would be hard to request a mass evacuation without a panic, plus the local government was already upset that they maybe come a battlefield by hosting both the Oracle and the missing Prince. The only thing that could be offered was to keep the crowd as far away as possible, by stating that it was uncertain how large Leviathan was, which wasn’t a complete lie as you had personally still yet to see a god in person.

Still for everything to go this horrible in such a short amount of time. The empire attacked Leviathan, causing the goddess to go on a rampage! Lunafreya kept attempting to reason with the Goddess, almost resulting in the both of you being drowned multiple times from the goddess, while Noctis had summoned Titan to try an subdue her. Only for you to be greeted by a red blur and the familiar pull of a warp. Shrieking as you were tossed to the ground.

“Oracle Lunafreya, we finally meet.” Ardyn chuckled, as you stumbled to your feet. “Your little friend Y/N did a good job of hiding you from me in Altissa.”

You moved to stand, letting out a groan, did he really have to throw you? You figured that with the two of you wearing making dresses and covering your faces with veils the empire would not be able to tell the difference.  How silly men are, you and Lunafreya didn’t have the same body type and you stood slightly taller than your sister.

“Sorry, Luna’s not here. Maybe you'd like to speak to me instead.” You called, tapping into the remnants of the King’s magic within your body. Transforming you into that armor they provided you in your first fight with the man, the pull not so bad this time.

“It seems we meet again.” Ardyn chuckled, as you stood the power of the King’s still running through you, as you wheezed softly, from almost being drowned by Leviathan’s tantrum and summoning the power, luckily this time you weren’t drawing it from the ring so it wasn’t taxing you as much. “You’ve really pulled the wool over my eyes the last we met.”

You stood up, finally catching your breath, your rapier held tightly in your hand. “Sorry, it's like you said we’ve both have very different plans.”

“Do you wish to fight again?”

You looked to your rapier in hand, before tossing it before you to land between the two of you, the blade stuck in the rubble. “No.”

Ardyn raised an eyebrow to this, “Beg pardon.”

“I’m not going to fight you, the gods remade me to fight you.” You stated. “I’m not doing that, I’m sick of following their orders.”

Ardyn chuckled loudly at this, “Is that so?”

You stared the elder man down, “Please answer me this Ardyn, do you want to rest right?”

The man gave you a stare.

“I can help you, we want to help you. Lunafreya, Noctis, myself. You're not alone anymore.”

“What do you know about being alone?” He hissed.

You shook your head, “Nothing, I know nothing of the years that you spent alone, cursed by the same gift that the gods gave you to protect what you needed. I asked for that power too.”

The man erupted with an Ameriger around him of red, his eyes turning an inky black, as he removed his hat, placing it on a decommissioned MT unit beside him. He stepped forward a sneer on his face when you didn’t back down, but instead squared your shoulder to the man taller to you.

“You can barely protect yourself, from the deamons before you now.”

You blinked up to the man, reaching out a hand “Because Somnus spoke so highly of you, he told me time and time again how he was so angered because he could not help you. The one that needed him most.” You rose your hand to cup the man’s cheek, only to flinch as he quickly grabbed your wrist, the Ameriger spinning around you faster, every so often you’d feel something slash against your skin, nothing to cause damage but to have you back down which you refused to do.

You didn’t flinch as he growled angrily, his face inches from your own, or as the circle of the Ameriger grew smaller. You didn’t bat an eye as you watched a face more demonic than anything from your nightmares or that you’ve seen in the darkness moved closer. What drew you from the man was the shrill shriek of Leviathan as Titan slammed her into a building.

Ardyn turned as well as you both heard the crash, only to feel you grabbed a hold of his jacket, shoving him away from yourself before tossing yourself out of the way of falling building pieces.

You stood, hair and attire blowing around the multiple storms brought up by the gods fighting. You squinted seeing Lunafreya rushing around the battlefield to something black. Noctis! You moved to go after the two, only to halt as Ardyn appeared before you.

“I don’t believe we were done talking.” Ardyn chuckled, the black still coming from his face. Despite speaking so calmly in a raging typhoon, you still heard him.

Still you screamed above the howling wind and rushing waters hoping he could hear you, “I wish that we were stronger and didn’t have to rely on the gods to protect what we love! I wish that everything was better, that you didn’t have to suffer alone! You lost everything, you witness everyone you love die, but look, you bought that same fate on Noctis! Your own flesh and blood! You’re allowing Noctis to suffer the exact same fate you had suffered! Would you wish that on him! Would you wish that on your own brother!”

You shrieked, feeling the man backhand you throwing you to the ground.

“What do you know, child?” He hissed

You grunted pulling yourself up, “I wish the gods were good and understood our lives! I wish that we could have met before all of this, before this war, before they used you! Before they abandoned you and marked you as Accursed.” Your eyes turned as you gasped seeing Lunafreya attempting to protect Noctis from the still rampaging goddess, she wouldn’t be able to get a barrier up fast enough, you knew she was weakened by not only summoning Leviathan but also trying to survive the goddess’s multiple drowning attempts. “We can blame this on fortune some kind of twist in a star! You’re angry, you have every right to be, hell I would be too, but what you’re doing right now is not right. You know that!”

“You speak as if you know a lot, Princess.” He growled a dagger appearing in his hand.

You smiled pushing yourself to your feet, “I know that every person I have met with the name Lucis Calem is someone that I love dearly. I wish you could understand that.”

Ardyn watched with dark eyes as you stumbled to your feet, moving over to your rapier. Turning your eyes to the man. “You wish for a lot of things Princess.”

You bend down picking up your rapier as you turned to the man offering your free hand, “I wished you come with me.”

You weren’t certain of how long you offered your hand to the man, only to gasp as the ground beneath your feet shook.  You turned to Noctis and Lunafreya, sparing a glance back to Ardyn and without a second though tossed your rapier towards Noctis and Lunafreya, warping after it, just in time to push Lunafreya to the ground, and cover the both of them with your body as a pillar shot overhead, along with another wave from Leviathan.

“Sorry, I’m late. I lost connection.” You smiled crawling off the two of them, taking Lunafreya’s hand.

“Glad you could make it.” Lunafreya laughed, as you both surrounded Noctis, pulling up a barrier.  

The two of you watched repeatedly as water crash against the barrier time and time again, noticing that your barrier was getting smaller, as the two of you curled closer together over Noctis’s unconscious body. You turned hearing Lunafreya wheeze, not now! You refused to lose either of them, you turned to the woman, linking her hand with Noctis, touching the man’s chest.

You screamed above the howling wind, “Brace yourself!”

“For wha...”

The blonde woman was unable to finish as you summon one of Noctis’s swords, before tossing it out the barrier to a safe distance forcing a warp from your Prince, happy that it worked. You stumbled from the barrier going back into the fray if Leviathan kept rampaging, she’d destroy the city and everyone in it. You pressed against your ear to the talkie.

“Anyone there?”

“Yes.”  Ignis called back.

“I warped Noctis and Luna to the west pier, get to them, Leviathan is gonna take this place down if she’s not stopped.”

A scratch and you heard Amor, “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Your signal dropped, you must have been too far out of range or the carriers that were still bombing the gods were scrambling your connection. You had to get them to stop enraging Leviathan, you gasped as a large wave splashed over you causing you to lose your footing if you hadn’t stabbed your rapier into the ground. Coughs wrecked your body as the water rescinded.

“Levi...Leviathan!” You screamed. “Stop! Please!”

You wheezed harder trying to get a hold of the goddess.

“You won’t be able to do anything about her, you’ll need to stop the carrier.”

You turned, only to smile at the redhead man approaching you.

“I recall you knowing how to warp, get to Leviathan. I’ll handle the carrier.”

You smiled with a nod as the both of you tossed your weapons following after them, you landing on the top of a building not yet destroyed by the gods battle. “Titan! Leviathan! Please! Stop! It’s done!” You heard a crash, before seeing a red light bouncing between four of the five carriers in the sky. “Leviathan! Please!”

With bombs and weapons no longer falling around the battlefield Titan managed to subdue the angered goddess long enough for you to ask again in a days time to assist Noctis. The goddess begrudgingly agreed before diving back into the depths, you spared a smile to Titan as his summons was undone, turning as you heard something land on the roof.  You giggled as you saw Ardyn standing there, his weapon disappearing within his armeriger as he approached you.

“Have you gotten everything you wished for, Princess?”

You reached out your hand a smile on your face, “I wish you’d com...”

You heard the pop and your body jolt and the magic of your transformed attire disappear as you stood in the decoy white dress, a large red spot appearing on the front, you looked to Ardyn before you before your legs gave out underneath you, your world dark before you hit the ground.

*

“Where is she?” Clara growled, pacing as best she could, she had injured her leg, shoving Ignis and Ravus out the way. She, Ignis and Ravus found Noctis and Lunafreya not long after your message went out, but even after Leviathan and Titan disappeared you had yet to return.

“She has to still be around her, don’t give up hope,” Ignis replied, as everyone turned from one of the temples that hadn’t been destroyed. Luck would have it Leviathan only managed to destroy the summoning area and a few buildings around her, most of the city was left unharmed.

Noctis and Lunafreya managed to come to around the time that Prompto brought Amor back, the woman had suffered a broken arm from her harness snagging and having to cut herself out to avoid being hit by debris from Leviathan, and a fallen carrier.

Gladiolus and Lucet appeared having gone out searching for you, returning when they found nothing to the north. The entire group was worse for the wear, but at least everyone was breathing.  The group agreeing on trying again in the east when they stopped seeing a figure coming down the walkway, only for weapons to be summoned immediately as the figured became Ardyn.

“What is it you want…” Ravus stopped as everyone noticed that the man was covered in blood, but what was worse was that your body was in his arms.

You held no tension, a large blossom of red against the stark white dress you wore. Your head lulled away from the group, arms hanging uselessly. Appearing a limp doll within the Accused's arms.

“What did you do to her!” Clara barked, only stopped by Ignis grabbing a hold of her arm.

Ardyn stepped forward, none flinching at the weapons aimed at him, his eyes locked with Noctis and Lunafreya. He moved forward again, now knowing that none of them would strike with your body in his arms. He moved before Noctis, you still held within his arms.

“She’s a stubborn one, absolutely refused to give up on me,” Ardyn replied rather low his eyes hidden behind the shadow and brim of his hat. “It’s been quite some time since I healed.”

“She’s still…” Lunafreya gasped, rushing over to you unafraid of the man holding you. She took your head within her hand. It was very faint but you were breathing if barely. “Please put her down.”

Ardyn placed you down on a large slab, stepping back as he allowed Noctis forward by your side.

“What happened?” Ravus hissed, still untrusting of the man beside him, Prompto and Amor’s guns trained on the redhead man, along with his own sword.

Ardyn did not turn his eyes from you,“They shot her while her back was turned.”

“Who?”

Ardyn sneered, “It doesn’t matter now, they’re gone.”

Lunafreya begun to shake, her healing wasn’t doing enough, you weren’t getting better if anything it was worse. Not even with the combination of Ignis and Clara giving you CPR.

“Here.” Amor called, reaching into her hair plucking a feather. “It’s a Phoenix Down, it’s old but it should still work.”

Everyone watched as the glow surrounded you, but you still didn’t stir, they all had to watch as you gave one final exhale. Lunafreya placed her face within her hands, as she began to sob. Gladiolus took Lucet close as the woman sobbed heavily, the man holding her tightly as he turned her away from your body, his own tears falling silently. Ignis gathered a wailing Clara close, allowing her to cry in his shoulder.  Prompto followed Amor to the ground allowing the woman to cling tightly to him as they both cried. Ardyn adjusted his hat to further shield his eyes. Ravus stepped forward placing a hand to Lunafreya’s shoulder as the woman turned hugging her brother tightly.

“She can’t be gone, after everything we did.” Lunafreya cried, as Ravus stroked her back. “She promised we’d come back together.”

Noctis stepped forward kneeling beside your body, taking your hand within his own, as he leaned forward pressing his lips to your own. “I love you so much.”

As sobs echoed the pillars ghostly blues begun to surround them, slowly taking the forms of the Kings of Lucii. Come to mourn the fallen princess of Lucis. The Father and The Mystic stepped forward, Somnus stopping near his brother, while Regis moved beside his weeping son, his armor disappearing as he rested his hand on his sons that clung tightly to his bride.

“I promised to protect her.”

You inhaled deeply, letting out a gasping breath as you began to cough wildly, before panting hard. Tired eyes opening as you looked to your love above you, “Noct?”

Noctis quickly gathered you in his arms, hugging you tightly. “I thought I lost you.”

You smiled before noticing the others surrounding you, after being filled in and a little extra healing from Lunafreya, you stumbled from your perch, moving to stand before the two brothers this all started with. Your hand held out to the man, labeled the Immortal Accursed. “You asked me if I got all I wished for, I’d wish you’d come with us.”

Ardyn adjusted his hat, with a chuckle, “You wish for a lot of things, Young Queen.”

You smiled brightly, as he removed his hat, taking your hand and knelt, pressing his forehead to your knuckles.

“Should you wish to have this Immortal Accursed by your side I shall have to grant that wish, now won’t I.”

*

The sea sounded absolutely beautiful outside your bridal suite room, only for you to hiss as Clara pulled a little too hard on your hair.

“Sorry, sorry,” Clara called. “You just have so many knots.”

“I’m still picking concrete out mine,” Lucet muttered, nuzzling into Pyrna who hadn’t left the woman’s arms since the woman found the dog, Lunafreya stated it would stop the dog from getting into trouble.

“Did you know that Chocobos can’t be at the wedding site, Clara? Prompto tried ordering one for you, Y/n.” Amor replied, helping slip your shoes on.

“How strange,” Clara muttered.

“We never did return that Chocobo.” Lunafreya stated.

You froze, “Crap.”

This only caused the two of you to start to giggle.

The last forty-eight hours were a strange blur, Lunafreya summoned Leviathan to form the convent with Noctis. Who still needed to get the rest of the arms, and with Ardyn assisting in finding the arms it actually went rather smoothly, and the boys returned home last night. There was still the manner of getting the crystal and returning it home, but Ardyn had stated that would be simple enough, and that Noctis shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer.

You both were finally getting the happy ending you wanted.

“Princess, we’ve got trouble,” Aranea called stepping from the balcony, having not wanted to put on a dress, but at least allowed Iris to put a bow on her armor, and a matching one for her dragoon lance.

“What’s wrong?” You asked only able to turn your eyes to the woman as Clara was still working on your hair.

“Did Prompto find Chocobos?” Clara called slight panic in her voice.

Aranea stared in confusion at the question before shaking her head, “These aren’t Chocobos, but I think you’d prefer if they were.” The woman replied, waving everyone out to the balcony.

As all of you crowded on the balcony, you watched as an official Neilhielm armor squad arrived on the scene. Your eyes turned to the others, watching as weapons were drawn, before noticing that Noctis and the boys had stepped outside.

“Hate to put a damper on your wedding day.” Iedolas growled, flanked by quite a few MT units. “We can not overlook…”

You jumped from the balcony, your attire transforming to your Lucian armor as you stood beside your husband to be who was still in his casual clothes, lucky. You may have also ignored Clara yelling at you for being reckless.

“The bride to be, we heard you were indisposed,” The old man hissed with a pause, “happy to see that was false information.”

You sneered to the man, all you wanted was a beautiful wedding day and this old asshole man was ruining it! You did not cross all of Eos, nearly get drowned by a god, get shot and brought back to life to have these men stop you from marrying Noctis!

“Leave now!” You barked, causing the men beside you to jump in fear, having never heard you so angry. “You are not welcomed here, creature.”

“You have no rule here.” The old man hissed stepping forward only for Noctis to move before you, having yet to draw a sword. “Prince Noctis, it seems that your…”

You stopped listening to the man, your eyes scanning the area around before you called loudly. “Gladio!”

“I see him!” The tall man brought up his shield just in time to block a sniper bullet, the same time Ignis, Prompto and Ravus drew their weapons as the MT units before you rose their weapons to attack as well.

“Amor!” You called, only to smile as you saw a man fall from a nearby building, followed by three more snipers you hadn’t seen, from surrounding rooftops.

“Attacking on neutral ground, a further act of treason.” Ravus hissed.

“High Commander, or as I should say former High Commander you’ve helped the enemy. You are of no concern here.”

Ravus moved before you, standing beside Noctis,“The only enemy here is you.”

You turned harsh eyes back to the man before you, “I watched you order the death of King Regis, under a false treaty, what do you know of honor?”

“Silence girl!”

“The only thing that you are upset about is that King Regis seen through your foolish plan.” You went to draw your rapier, only to feel a hand on your shoulder. “Now you feel that you can speak,”

“A bride should have nothing to worry about on her wedding day aside from her own joy. Allow me, my dear.” Ardyn called, stepping before you, Noctis and Ravus. “Shall we have a word, Emperor?”

“Are you sure?” Noctis inquired.

Ardyn chuckled adjusting his hat, “All you need to worry about dear Noct is your beautiful bride having a beautiful wedding. I’ll be certain to return by the time she walks down the aisle.”

You all watched as the man left with a very frighten Emperor having no choice but to follow him, only to wonder what exactly it was that Ardyn would do to the man.

*

As you sat alone in your bridal suite you smiled softly reflecting on your entire journey, of meeting Noctis and falling in love. Finding a sister in Lunafreya. Assisting a man labeled cursed, tears sprang to your eyes as you looked at your reflection of you within your wedding dress.

To the mass gathering to view the wedding it was just that a lot of expensive fabric, that was woven together with no gather meaning but to be a subject of headlines.

To you it was more, a trophy of all you had been able to live through. To new starts and the end of a so much hatred and evil. To love that made you excited for each sunrise that would appear each day going forward.

“Are you excited?”

You turned, looking to the little friend the often followed you around the Citadel and Noctis apartment, reaching forward as you scratched at the little white chin, “Of course I am Carbuncle.” You giggled to the little fox beside your bouquet of flowers. “It’s my wedding day.”

“I’m invited?”

You gasped kneeling to look him in the eye before scooping him up, “Of course you are! After all you know both the Bride and the Groom. I wouldn’t dream of not having you there.” You smiled as he nuzzled you with a cheep before jumping from your arms.

As you picked up your bouquet of Syelleblossom, you turned only to smile brightly as you saw the black armor of Regis awaiting you. As you rushed forward, the armor dissolved showing the man how you viewed him in life, perhaps a bit younger, your arms going around his shoulders as you hugged him tightly.

“Dad.” You cooed, feeling the cold touch of his body, but that had become comforting at this point.

“You look so beautiful.” Regis smiled, as he released you, pressing that familiar kiss to your forehead before adjusting your veil to hide your face from all that wasn’t your soon to be husband. “I do not wish to keep your husband waiting.”

You felt tears start to fall from your eyes as he offered you his arm.

“They say when a bride cries on her wedding day its means the wedding is blessed by the gods themselves,” Regis replied, as he led you to the outdoor rebuilt area.

You tried to stop yourself from running down the alley where Noctis was waiting for you. You glanced around, taking in everything around you. It was a straight walkway, appearing to be floating on the water itself, to were Noctis and Lunafreya waited before you tall columns rising out of the water. Glancing to the high balconies and terrace to your friends, giggling at the red-headed man that did indeed make it to see you down the alley.

Only to gasp at the 12 figures that also appeared beside the one labeled Accursed to view your wedding, you felt so overwhelmed so much love from those around you. You unwrapped a hand from your bouquet reaching out to Noctis, only to find that even unspoken he knew what to do. As he rushed towards you taking the hand that reached for him.

You both had come this far separately, it would be wonderful to start this journey down the aisle as two separate beings and to leave it as husband and wife with one life blended together. After all, the two of you had been written in the stars as belonging to each other.

“You both make me so proud.”

Noctis gasped since linked with you, he saw the figure that helped you this far. “Dad.”

“Walk tall my Son and Daughter.” Regis smiled, releasing your arm as he went to join the other kings awaiting for your union.

A perfect day, as the King was wedded by one of his dearest friends, to a woman that made the night sky appear so dull compared to her. Book, stories, and tales would be passed down for years to come but no one would ever forget the look of joy on the two lovers face as the Oracle pronounced them husband and wife for the first time.

~

You gave a soft sigh of joy as you held onto the railing on the top of the Regalia Sea, the new royal vestal, as you saw the view of Altissa appear on the horizon.

“There you are.”

You smiled as you knelt down in your traveling dress hugging tightly the little girl that held the same features as her father as well as her elder brother that looked like your husband when he was younger. Those Lucian eyes and beautiful hair always held true, but people often stated that those eyes held the gentleness of the night sky like their Mother.

Getting a kiss from them, as you scooped up your toddler daughter, before turning to your husband, receiving a kiss from him as well as your eldest pressed against your side clinging to your skirts, his free hand holding onto his Father’s hand.

“You always get so excited when you see Altissa.” Noctis chuckled.

“Of course, a lot of wonderful things happened for us on Altissa.” You replied, placing your hand to your son’s back as he pointed out a huge fish that was almost appeared to be escorting you to the shores

“Auntie Lulu.” Your daughter, Regina cooed.

“Mom is Uncle Ardyn there too?” Your eldest, a son, Oriens inquired, as he moved to hold your hand that rested on his back.

“Yep, he’s been working with Auntie Luna and Uncle Ravus in getting Tarabene back together.” You smiled brightly, as your son stared at your bracelet, he was always fascinated by the gold band of yours.

“Oriens, why don’t you take Regina and help Ignis radio in.” Noctis offered

“Come on Reggy, Mom and Dad are gonna be gross.” Oriens called reaching up taking his younger sister in his arms, before heading back below deck where Ignis and the others were.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You sniffled, as your husband pulled you close, brushing the tears from your cheeks.

“Maybe I wanted me time.” Noctis chuckled, following your gaze to the ever growing closer city, still of peaceful land but a meeting place of two royal families.

As you docked, exiting the boat to find Ardyn awaiting you all on shore.

“I was starting to worry.” Ardyn chuckled tipping that familiar hat.

“Uncle Ardyn.” Oriens cheered, as he and Regina raced up to him, wrapping arms full of fabric and their uncle’s legs in an embrace.

Ardyn chuckled as he scooped up them embraced them both tightly, “You couldn’t have missed an old man like me that much.”

“You’re not that old Uncle Ardyn.” Orien laughed, as Regina snagged the hat, placing it on her head with a coo.

Ardyn chuckled as you and Noctis stepped forward, “Safe travels, I presume.”

“Your nephews wished to stop and fish every five minutes.” You smiled.

“Allow the King his pleasure, my Dear Queen.” Ardyn chuckled as he motioned toward a caravan, “Unfortunately Lunafreya and Ravus were unable to escape the meeting, yet should be finished by the time we get there. They also sent us this caravan due to Lucet’s condition, despite ensuring she would jog the entire way if we allowed.” He stated greeting the others with a nod, “I don’t believe you two will have anything to worry about, you’ll have an army of Shields to protect you.” He laughed, placing Oriens and Regina within the car.

Aside from your own two, Gladiolus and Lucet already had a set of triplets boys and were currently expecting twins girl in a few months time. While Prompto and Amor had adopted a young one of their own. Ignis and Clara had opted out of children, insisting that Oriens and Regina, the young Argentum and the Amicitia garden were more than enough, besides they had already raised the both of you.

As the group of you all arrived at the hall, you couldn’t contain your smile as you saw the form of the Oracle, looking so much like the picture of her mother that she had shown you, flanked by her brother. Even from this distance, you could see the huge smile on her face as the car came into view.

The car was barely parked before you were rushing up the stairs and she coming down as you both embraced tightly, only to break apart to giggle excitedly to one another.

“You would think they haven’t seen each other in years.” Clara giggled, assisting Regina up the stairs.

“My Dear, you have to give it to them, it has been 26 days this time.” Ignis chuckled, following Noctis and Oriens.

“I think it’s adorable.” Amor smiled, watching Clara straighten out Regina’s travel dress, to meet her Auntie Luna and Uncle Ravus.

“Yeah, I still don’t understand why Cor decides to stay home all the time with the kids.” Prompto laughed, “He’s always talking about how he’s too old to deal with royal meetings.”

“There you are.” Lunafreya giggled kneeling to press kisses to Oriens and Regina cheeks and getting big hugs, only to have Regina reach for Ravus immediately afterward a common occurrence with the young one who took a liking to the man.

“How are you, Young Princess?” Ravus chuckled taking her hand pressing a kiss to her knuckles which got him a huge coo.

“Uncle Ravus will you have time to spar?” Oriens inquired getting a hug

“If you don’t mind teaching an old man new tricks.”

Lunafreya giggled. “You know who’s been waiting to see you.”

“Umbre! Pry!” Regina squealed as Ravus sat her down, as two dogs greeted the children.

“Ravus, how is your wife and little one?” You smiled, taking his hands within your own.

“On bedrest for the time being. We’re expecting soon.” Ravus replied.

“If they are up for visitors I would like to visit.”

“I’m certain they’ll enjoy that.”

“You all must be tired, and we should get Lucet off her feet,” Lunafreya called taking Oriens hand.

“This is heaven compared to the boys.” Lucet giggled, as Gladiolus helped her up the stairs, leave it to the big guy to fret over his battle axe of a spouse.

“You won't be saying that later when you swell, come on.” He chuckled.

You followed your friends and family up the stairs, only to stop and turned, looking to the area that years ago became the final stand, you were so frightened of losing everything and now to find that it all became full circle. Gasping as you felt a hand to your shoulder, only to notice the ringed hand of your husband.

“We’ve been through a lot haven’t we?” Noctis replied.

You nodded softly, “It's so funny now, but at the time I was so scared that I would lose everything here, but this is where everything came together for us.”

Noctis chuckled, pulling you closer to his side, “You did the hard part, all I did was swing around a sword and run around in nature.”

You wrapped your arm around him, hugging him tightly, “I have to say, we’re a pretty good team.”

Noctis pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I think so too.”

“Noctis, Y/N are you coming?”

Noctis chuckled holding out his hand to you, as you saw a flash of your husband when you were both younger, that same smile on his face, “Come with me?”

You smiled brightly, placing your hand within his own, pressing into his side as you linked your fingers a huge smile to your face. So long as either of you reached a hand to one another you knew that it would not be long for it to find its missing half.

“My Noctis, To the end of Eos.”

[inyourowntime]

under the cut is the current plot/story summation of the dnd campaign I DM - just thought it would be fun to share! all this is public on dnd Beyond, so it’s not like a secret or revealing any plot reveals or anything

PCs: Esther Stackhouse - Human/HalfSpirit Gunslinger Raiann Peitoa - Moon Elf Vampire Rosarie Cane - Half-Fey Warlock Kaia Misttide - Genasi Druid

Arc 1 - Zomboes

Hired by Downs Merry, a slight woman with deep pockets, to protect her and a package she holds from a farming town in the North East county Allebor named Jusgo, to an underground haven deep in the Bog Lands, Swallowvale. Our adventure follows the Half-Spirit Esther, whose body is slowly betraying her; the Half-Fey Rosarie, whose vanity has built a wall around her that she seems unwilling to climb or break down; the mysterious Druidic Pirate Kaiaa, whose heritage has something to do with a fake mermaid and old magic; and the Vampire Raiann, who is halting her mission of vengance to ally herself with new friends, helping to close the wound in her heart.

So far, along the way, our adventurers have battled Dawn Father followers who mistook them for Demons, stolen a boat from a town of Lizard folk, sailed the Arevalo Gulf before being forced to beach by a mysterious freak storm, and battled Necrotic Crocodiles (Necrocodiles) on the last stretch before Swallowvale.

Upon finding the town, they follow Downs to see what her package truly is - a medicine of some kind, ordered by a Doctor Hallow of the Zehirian Church. The medicine poisons the child, however, and he becomes a zombified corpse, running of into the town.

The next morning, a small horde has taken over the city's central district, and while the adventurers managed to kill the 16 bodies (again), they then set out to unravel who was behind the plot, or what caused the boy's necrotic change.

They investigated the Zehirian church, and were soon discussing matters with a strange woman in scaled armour named Thestorn, who runs the Temple here in Swallowvale. After some exchanged words, she lured them into a narrow corridor and managed to trap them inside with the moans and groans of zombified creatures closing in on them.

Rosarie, joining them from outside the temple, helped them fight Thestorn, beating from her her plan to release a plague of Zombies that only effect non-magical folk. She wanted to build an army from 'useless' non-magic inhabitants of Iridus to help fight against the Sin'Gorne Empire. Thestorn then took her own life, turning herself to stone with a hidden pill inside her mouth. From her they then stole a bag containing 10 unidentified potions.

Soon after, they burned the town to the ground to prevent further infestation, and then left Swallowvale to find the civilians of the town all outside, having already evacuated.

They went to the nearby town of Rinslin, where they acquired some information on their backstories, both from eachother and a magical pole that talked to them, as well as some pets. They decided to head to Margonne, where they believe Zachaeus, who Esther knows, is living, which is also the city Kaia left after Quickbolt spurned her.

---

Arc 2 - Smoke

Upon arrival to Margonne, the party finds that everyone going in and out of the City is being checked by armed guards. They're told this is due to serious piracy issues throughout the city, and that recent changes to leadership within the city has led to harsh new realities for criminals.

Using Kaia's experience of the city, and Esther's experience of Zachaius, they ask around for information. They happen upon Freddie Flatfoot, of Kaia's old crew, but after a short altercation with him move on. Eventually, they find Zachaius inhabiting the body of a drug-den user, a red Tiefling. He reveals that he inhabits bodies for days at a time, moving from person to person, usually of drug users and drunks to explain their memory lapses.

The whole group finds a place to stay for the night, but Zachaius' true intentions come to light as he attacks, going for Esther's Revenant gun. He first possesses Rosarie, using her as a vessel after breaking out of his Tiefling form. Next, he and inhabits Esther, but Rosarie uses her magic to demand he leave Esther's body and go far away - specifically to another continent. Raiann, who had already tried to exchange her form for Esther, was his intended target, but as he became smoke to possess her, Jeff jumped in the way, giving himself up for Raiann.

Jeff, now possessed by Zachaius, proves true to his word and creates a teleportation ritual on the floor of the inn's room, and teleports to another continent.

Esther, Raiann, Rosarie and Kaia immediately decide they need to find a way to get him back, and Raiann makes the suggestion that her Vampiric Sire Gabriel might be their best chance. They know he is in the Sin'Gorne Empire in a township called Castutt, and they know the best way to get their would likely be by boat, and that Kaia's old crew on the Yeathan's Kraken is in town - plan formulated. They had a week.

Hiring the ship for a hugely over-priced amount, Captain Quickbolt said he could get them on the coast just North of Castutt within three days (using unclear methods of speedy ocean travel). Rosarie, assuming that all Kaia and Quickbolt's relationship needed to be fixed was them seeing each-other (for the first time since she admitted her feelings, he said no, and she jumped ship months ago), put together a scheme to try and get them together in the same room, but Esther and Raian were against it.

Kaia, at one point, finds herself climbing up the back of the ship in her non-disguised form, as Quickbolt is at the helm. She rises over the crest, sees him, panics, drops back down, and puts her foot through a window below her. Quickbolt hears her, and peeks over the edge to see his old first-mate, clinging to the wood of his ship. It's interesting. Meanwhile, Raiann is trying to process the fact that 1) Jeff is gone and she's scared they wont get to him in time, and 2) she's going to see Gabriel for the first time since she was sired by him. Rosarie, using her new abilities that she is still working out, attempts to send messages to Jeff, and even gets some information about where he is - somewhere cold, and somewhere far away. Soon, however, Zachaius seems to clock onto their communication, and cuts it off.

While Kaia and Quickbolt resolve their problems (and bang it out), they soon approach Castutt, the town Gabriel said he would wait for them in. After a sad, but hope-filled goodbye, the group sets off, well into enemy territory. Raiann uses her bat-form to do some recon, and finds Gabriel at one of the town's camp-like areas, surrounded by what could only be described as minions. He sees her, and meets the gang.

Together, they develop a plan to get Jeff back - Gabriel will psychically communicate with an associate of his, a Demon Hunter known as Shannon Mylers. She describes to him a pentagram that will allow them to trap Zachaius within an area, for them to then talk with and get Jeff back.

Acting on this, they find a clearing in the woods, and draw the pentacle. They summon Zachaius, and see the broken and half-frozen body of Jeff, animated by will alone. He mocks them, and demands that if they won't give him the gun, they will at least do something for him - he wants one of the others to shoot Esther in the head, killing her.

The gang quickly comes up with a way to fool him with images and sounds created by magic, relying on his body's troubled nature to maim his observation enough to convince him. Miraculously, it works, and he gives Jeff's body up.

The gang then attack the plume of smoke that is Zachaius' true form, until it is but a small pebble on the ground. Esther approaches, and calmly fires a bullet straight into the marble, destroying it and sending Zachaius back to the hell he used her to escape from. Good riddance.

---

Arc 3 - Spider's Web

Gabriel, after helping the gang with their demon problem, offers 1000gp each to find one of his other sired Vampires, Bailey, who he has been unable to contact for a few weeks now. He says she was last in Astrakane, a city on the southern coast of Sin'Gorne, which would take several weeks, if not months on foot. They accept, and set off to the next town to try and find horses. First off, though, they need travel papers. They decide to rob the tiny office that sits in Castutt, belonging to the Miltary presence in the town. Kaia's wildshape, Rosarie's bees and Esther's distraction skills result in a successful nabbing of legitimate travel papers with the official Sin'Gorne seal on.

In Tonlun, they encounter a few issues as Raiann attempts to drink from a villager, who manages to escape and notify the militia guards present - two Elves and a Drider. After fighting and killing the guards, they make a half-excuse that it was some kind of play to the immediate locals, and then RUN. On the road to their next stop - somewhere called Syyk - they encountered a group of Goblins, and Rosarie told the group more about her past relationship. As they woke from camping on their third day, a stranger wearing the full plate armour of the Sin'Gorne Militia, the Eighth Leg, approached them.

[blazerina]

What Am I Doing Here? (VoS MC x Flynn)

What Am I Doing Here?

Summary: Veil of Secrets MC Annie Walsh, is lost in thought about the events of the past few days.  She opens up a little to Flynn and cannot deny the attraction she feels for him that’s continuing to build.

Author’s Note: I have been really intrigued by VoS so far and have enjoyed thinking about a story line and an MC who chooses Flynn as her love interest.  I don’t have a lot of experience writing for “bad boys” – but there’s something so intriguing (and also endearing) about Flynn’s character. I’m excited to explore his relationship with my MC Annie & to see where this goes. This story takes place after finding Tanner’s body but before this last week’s chapter when MC talks more to Scarlett.  Anyway -- as always, thanks for reading!! xoxo

Word Count: 1709

--

Annie shivered as the breeze picked up along the shore.  She stared out into the ocean, watching the waves crash in and out…in and out…listening to the consistent rhythm. She was standing on the end of an empty dock. There was a smattering of boats along the waterfront, some with lights on, others completely dark.  She had no idea what time it was but it seemed awfully dark outside; almost ominous. So much had happened in a few short days; Kate’s impromptu bachelorette party, her disappearance, the altercation with the Sterling family and now the death of Tanner…Annie closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She held her shoes in one hand and held her other arm across her chest.  She could smell the saltwater and suddenly had the urge to go swimming. She smiled wistfully, realizing that she imagined that’d be the type of thing she was doing in Birchport; swimming, relaxing, celebrating…not investigating her college best friend’s disappearance, finding a dead body, and slinking around behind the back of town’s the police chief.

She turned over her shoulder to walk back up the ramp but stopped inches away from running into Flynn. Immediately, her hand flew to her chest.  He scared her. His instant presence, when she wasn’t expecting him to be there, made her jump.

“You okay?” He asked.

A hint of concern fluttered across his face. For Annie, inhaling his scent and hearing his voice made her chest tighten and her breath catch in her throat – for more than one reason. Annie was insanely attracted to Flynn; she found it hard to believe there were many people who wouldn’t be. He was naturally charming and handsome. She knew that even in the few short moments she’d spent with him, he’d already allowed her to see a side of him he didn’t easily reveal to just anybody.  It was never her objective on this quick weekend-trip to find love, but something about him made her wonder what it would be like to be in a relationship with him.

Bad boys were NEVER her type and she surprised herself by starting to fall for him like she did.  One part of her tried to convince herself that she was caught up in the turmoil of the last few days and not making rational decisions. Another part of her found herself drawn to Flynn; to taking risks, to envying him and his attitude.  Who cares that he had already spent time in jail? Sure, her dad would comment on his tattoos and her whole family would be shocked to see her bring someone like him home, but what does that matter? This is her life, not theirs!

She forced the thoughts inside her mind to shut down.  She was getting ahead of herself and taking things way too far in her mind.  Calming herself, and clearing her throat, she looked up at Flynn and nodded.  A few tendrils of her blonde hair whipped across her face as she made eye contact with him.  She gently pulled them away from her eyes as he stepped closer to her.  She returned her gaze to the water and made a mental note of how calming all this was.  The constant thump of the water against the shore, along with Flynn standing beside her, brought her a sense of peace. Underlying that peace was a small wave of anxiety too, but it subsided the longer they stood there in silence.

“What am I doing here, Flynn?” Annie whispered out into the night, not turning to look at him.

“Looks like you’re staring out into the ocean; maybe daydreaming about skinny dipping?” He bantered, playfully, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No.” Annie turned to face him, her eyes blazing with intensity. She repeated, “What am I, doing here?”

She paused dramatically for affect.

“I was never meant to be investigating Kate’s disappearance. I was only supposed to be in Birchport two nights – and now…well…look at us…”

Annie’s eyes had softened, pleading with Flynn for an explanation.  The past few days had been so much more difficult than she ever anticipated.  Realizing how much she had missed out on with her college best friend, feeling guilty for losing touch, feeling hopeful that they could reconnect once again and be a part of each other’s lives – only to have all of that stripped away in an instant? Not to mention the less-than-warm welcome she had received from the Sterlings, when all she wanted to do was help! Annie’s resolve was faltering and she wasn’t sure she was ready for this. Maybe she didn’t have what it takes to stay in this town and fight for Kate.

Flynn sighed and ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair, a few chill-bumps forming on his arms while the wind continued to pick up speed.  

“I used to ask myself that question a lot.  I never felt like Birchport was where I belonged.  I didn’t have many friends growing up, and the people I considered friends, left me behind when everything went south.” Flynn explained.

“The first thing I wanted to do when I got out of jail was leave this place.”

His eyes followed a small boat pulling into the wharf. The crew began unloading some kind of haul; Annie thought it was salmon or another kind of fish.  The smell wafted her way and turned her stomach just a bit, but she pushed through and continued listening to and studying Flynn.  

His forehead creased as he continued watching the crew work. He swallowed hard and returned his focus to the shore.

“Walk with me?”

“Sure.” Annie was already barefoot and followed him to the coastline.

Flynn seemed content to stay on the dry sand, but Annie wanted to wade in the water as it came in and out from the sea.

“You afraid to get wet?” She raised an eyebrow as she walked towards the water and looked at him over her shoulder.

Flynn rolled his eyes. “You’re so basic.” He mimicked her. “I wanna walk in the water and let the waves wash over my feet.” He sing-song-ed.

Reluctantly, he slipped off his sneakers, rolled up his jeans, and followed Annie.  “Before you ask – I draw the line at building sand castles.”

Annie smiled and immediately looked down, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks.  Flynn playfully nudged her with his shoulder and laughed to himself.

“It’s actually kind of nice being with someone who’s not from around here.  You give me a fresh perspective.”

“I do?” Annie asked, genuinely surprised.

“Yeah.  Like before, when I would ask myself what I was doing here…I didn’t have an answer.”

The two began walking slowly, the water continuing its pattern, some times lapping with more force than others. Annie was unsure what to do with her hands; she wanted to hold onto his…but her better judgement won out and she tried to act natural.

“…but now I do.” Flynn continued, watching his feet dip into the soft sand, next to Annie’s.  

“What I’m doing here…now…is trying to find Kate.  I’m trying to help her.  I have a purpose; a reason for existing in this moment.  I missed out on so much of life with my sister, you know? Being dumb. Making stupid decisions. Believing in the wrong people. This is my chance to make it up to Kate, somehow.  By trying to find her. By figuring out the truth.”

Annie exhaled as they kept walking. She didn’t know what to say or how to respond.  Everything he said made so much sense to her because she essentially felt the same. This was one possible way to make up for lost time and prove to Kate how much she missed her or what a mistake she made by letting their friendship diminish.

“I’m no good at being emotional…” he trailed off, suddenly stopping and looking down at Annie, who was comfortably close to him at the moment.  

She looked up at him with her dark green eyes and hung on his every word.  She wanted him to keep talking; keep sharing about himself.  She didn’t want the night or the walk to end. Annie desperately wanted him to know that she understood him, she knew exactly how he felt…but for some reason the words would not come.

“I do want you to know one thing though, Annie.”

He was almost whispering now. His rough, gravelly voice piercing through over the sound of the crashing waves and the rumbling wind.

“I’m here for you. I know it probably doesn’t mean anything…but there it is.”

After a few heartbeats passed in the silence, Annie finally responded.  

“It means a lot, actually.” From under her long, dark eyelashes she hoped he could read the emotion she was trying to convey.

Flynn nodded solemnly; an understanding had clearly passed between them.

“I better get you back to the B&B. It’s late.  Who knows what these idiots will do to us tomorrow.” He sighed, scratching his chin and looking up into the sky.

“It looks like a storm might be headed this way too.”

Annie quietly followed him back to the place along the shoreline where she left her shoes.

“Thank you.” She said to him as they swiped at their feet trying to get rid of the sand before putting their shoes back on.  

“Anytime.” Flynn said, giving her a quick wink giving her a hand to help her stand up.

A few minutes later, Flynn said goodnight and dropped Annie off, but she knew sleep would be difficult to come by this evening. Her brain was on overdrive as she tried to filter through the millions of thoughts flooding her mind.  She wanted to find Kate and figure out what the hell was happening in this shady little seaport town.  But she also wanted to know more about Flynn.

She wasn’t sure what the future would hold for her here in Birchport. She still didn’t have an answer to the question of what exactly she was doing here, but she knew that if any part of her future (whether it be just a few more days or longer than that) included Flynn O’Malley, she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

[penelopelovesalvez]

A Lucky Night-Chapter 3

Here is my multi-chapter pic featuring characters I do not own from Criminal Minds, Alvez x Garcia, in a story of my own creation. It picks up at the end of 13.5.

Warning: Some chapters contain smut. While many do not, the ones that do are definitely 18+, NSFW.

Please feel free to re-blog and review! Please ask for permission before posting on any other platform.

Chapter 3

After a short drive, they pulled up in front of the brick apartment building where Penelope lived. Parking the truck in her second spot in the carport to which she’d directed him, Luke clipped Roxy’s leash onto her collar, and led her out the driver-side door. He walked her around the truck, grabbing the bags from the bed and met her at the passenger door where she’d already jumped down without assistance, nearly toppling herself over as she landed on her platform heels. “Hey, Chica. Careful. Those aren’t exactly active wear shoes, ya know?” Luke said as he saw her teeter the landing. 

Penelope righted herself, grabbing the truck to steady herself, and glared at him. “Just because I’m not a size two doesn’t mean I’m not active, Agent Alvez, and doesn’t mean I cannot tell the difference between sneakers and platform sandals!” She ground the words out, her tone and flashing eyes radiating fury. “I may not be in the field, but I passed the same Bureau fitness and firearms qualifiers as you did, I will have you know!” she said, spinning on the very heel that had nearly caused her to topple in the first place. She stomped away from the bewildered face of the very obviously fit man she was sure thought she looked ridiculous in her towering heels at her size. She assumed he thought heels should be reserved for the slim, leggy model-types he probably picked up every other weekend at the bar. She’s spent years watching Derek- she knew how these playboy types thought. And the types of beach bunnies, bar bimbos and college co-eds they rotated in and out of their beds!

Luke could have kicked himself for insulting her. “Smooth move, Alvez,” he silently berated himself. Had he known the misassumptions she was mulling over regarding his character and just what kind of woman he was interested in, he’d have stopped her. But being that he wasn’t a mind reader, he merely thought she was insulted that he’d spoken so condescendingly and he tried to let the little altercation die there. Leading Roxy, he followed her up the stairs to her apartment, admiring the view of her calves and thighs as she climbed each stair in front of him. He waited silently as she fished through her oversized purse for her keys.

Penelope finally locating the brightly colored ring of keys and keychains, she tried to insert the key into the lock while juggling her bag and the items she’d removed in her search. Without uttering a word, Luke took the key from her, inserted it in the keyhole, and turned it in the lock. He pushed the door open, then stepped back and turned to Penelope. She merely stared at him. Roxy pushed past them, bounding into the apartment. 

“Umm, shall I carry you over the threshold?” Luke asked. As soon as the words left his mouth, he couldn’t help but picture that very thing… He’d swing her up into his arms, pulling her soft body tight into his chest. He’d breath in the smell of her perfume, her hair brushing against his neck. She would clutch his shoulders, her silver-tipped nails biting into the muscles of his back. He’d kick the door closed and not set that delectable armful down until they had reached her bed, and then, only to peel the clothes from both their bodies…. He shook the fantasy away, noticing she had been stunned speechless.  

Penelope could not believe her ears. Had that gorgeous man just offered to carry her? The way a groom would carry his bride? Or a man would his lover? Was he propositioning her? She stared at him, her mouth open and her breath heaving in and out of her lungs. She licked her lower lip, considering the potential meanings behind his intriguing question.

Seeing her shocked face, Luke interpreted her look for one of anger and thought he better ease off the teasing. Clearly, she was not interested, he thought. “Ayyy Chica, I’m kidding,” he said, running a hand over the back of his neck nervously. 

Luke watched as she spun on her heel and stomped into the apartment, slamming her purse onto the cluttered entry table. Great, way to come on too strong and scare her off and piss her off all at once, he chided himself. He sighed. Before he could follow her, a delivery driver- arms laden down with bags full of food- approached. He led the man in, and Penelope showed him where he could set the order down on the kitchen counter. She began searching for her purse to give the young man a tip. “Could be another ten minutes before she finds what she’s looking for in that bright, ridiculous purse after she locates it. Well, maybe I can be a gentleman and smooth over her ruffled feathers” Luke thought, chuckling. He quickly pulled a twenty out of his own wallet, and sent the young man on his way before she could even remember her purse was in the entry. He carried the bags of fragrant food in, closing the door behind him with a nudge of his foot.  

“Where could she have set that dang purse, it was just here?” Penelope thought angrily. She looked up to find the young man had already gone and she shook her head in frustration. Drat that blasted, infuriating man! It was his fault she was so flustered. He goes around drawing unsuspecting women in with his charm and impossibly delicious body, only to admit he’s not at all serious about the offers he’s making. If he hadn’t orchestrated that laugh on the porch at her expense, she wouldn’t have been so angry that she couldn’t remember where she placed her purse. And she would have tipped the kid herself if he hadn’t overstepped his bounds. “And where is everyone else? I don’t know that I can be here much longer with just Luke. He’s entirely too male and too imposing. How can one man take up all the space in the entire apartment with his graceful movements around the kitchen?” Penelope questioned, rather frantically. She couldn’t even smell the food over his masculine cologne. A shiver raced down her spine, and she realized how distracted she was by the mouth-watering, statue-come-to-life male presence currently inhabiting her hallway. Distraught, she retreated to her usual methods of self-defense and coping. 

“Luke, could you be useful for once and maybe put all the food into the oven on low, just to keep warm? And then, please help yourself to a beer. I’m going to change, as I am certain everyone will arrive any moment now.” Penelope said, moving around Luke’s body to exit the kitchen and head towards her bedroom. At least she sure hoped they would. Alone time with Mr. Mouthwatering Masculinity might be a very dangerous thing. “Oh, and Newbie? Don’t do anything to disrupt my inner sanctum. You can get a beer and turn on the TV, but don’t go poking around like you profilers do,” she ordered, throwing the warning over her shoulder as she flounced out of the room. 

Closing the door to her bedroom, she wondered what in the world she should change into. She��d had time at work to prepare for hosting the impromptu soiree- ordering food from her work computer and calling and scheduling her housecleaner to come over and tidy up. She’d even been able to have the grocery-delivery service drop off the extra alcohol and other supplies she’d ordered while Eva was cleaning… pretty penny it cost her, but she knew she needed her people around her. “What did she make the money for if not to spend it on those she loved?” she had reasoned to herself, justifying the additional charges. But her skills fell short of being able to plan an outfit, on short notice, from within the Bat Cave back at the BAU. She had no idea what she was going to throw on, but she needed the moment away from Luke that a wardrobe change offered, and truth be told she felt gross after being in the same clothes for nearly 14 hours. 

“If only I were one of those girls who could look effortlessly flawless in anything. One of those skinny, stunning girls like Derek always brought around. I’m sure they wouldn’t feel like such an idiot around Mr. Latin Lover himself out there. Not only can I not compete with the kind of girls he probably goes for, I can’t even compete with JJ and Emily. And now I have to just throw something together, and spend the evening next to them, without the benefit of a well-planned outfit, time to arrange her appearance, or even a shower,” she mumbled to herself. She rifled through the dozens of colorful dresses hanging in her closet, wishing for something perfect to jump out at her. Her fingers landed on a red dress with white polka dots, and she suddenly knew. It was perfect. “I can’t compete, but I can at least display what I do have in the best wrapping possible…” she mused, slightly releasing her earlier self-consciousness. Slipping out of her black dress with red and white paisley, she removed the rest of her undergarments and kicked them towards the closet. 

Turning on the water in the shower, she decided rinsing off wouldn’t take more than a moment. She grabbed her brush, pulled her blond tresses into a high, messy pony tail and tucked in a pretty lace flower clip. She stepped under the hot water for a moment, enjoying the feel of the hot water cascading over her tense shoulders. “Too bad Luke would never be interested in me. I’d invite him in for a quick romp before the rest of the team showed up,” Penelope considered. 

Shaking away the impossible fantasies, she pulled out her favorite –very expensive- body wash. Shelling out $28 a bottle seemed ridiculous, but she couldn’t find a substitute that came close to the delectable scent of fresh peaches, and just a hint of sandalwood. She poured an indulgent amount onto her loofah and lathered it across her skin, trying to ignore the goosebumps that covering her most tender places that had nothing to do with being cold and everything to do with being hot- hot and bothered. “Oh man, just thinking about that gorgeous man in the next room has all sorts of fantasies running through my mind. I better rinse off and get out before I’m tempted to take matters into my own hands. Or worse, before I invite him to come put out the fire he started… No, better not even entertain such thoughts,” she mused. 

She quickly turned the water to cold, hoping it would cool off her skin AND her racing thoughts. Jumping out of the shower she quickly dried herself off with a towel, before slipping her legs into a pair of lacey black and red boy short panties, and a matching bra with a plunging neckline. She looked in the mirror at her silhouette. “One very deep breath and I think my nipples might pop out,” she observed, rather satisfied with the effect. She quickly donned the rest of the outfit, and reapplied her makeup, before slipping into her heels. She knew if she took much longer she’d either walk out to an apartment full of guests waiting for their hostess, or Luke might take it upon himself to check on her. 

Luke glanced up from the beer he had been swirling, lost in thoughts, at the sound of Penelope’s heels on the floor as she entered the room. Just the sight of her seemed to knock the wind out of him and he felt his muscles tense. “She’s stunning,” he observed, entranced. His eyes roamed over her body, taking in every detail. The red stiletto heels, the black fishnet stockings covering the elegant lines of her calves up to her thighs, the glimpse of ruffled black tulle peeking from beneath her short dress hugging her thigh, the cling of the white-polka-dotted, crimson fabric over her hips and waist, the glorious scrap of black lace bra peeking just above the low sweetheart neckline- giving him an eye-full of the soft, creamy skin that so often occupied his daydreams… His eyes lingered over her cleavage, so temptingly displayed, for several moments longer than he should have allowed.

He forced his gaze to her face, taking in the alluring cascade of her blonde curls she had hastily pinned up, the way the crimson lipstick emphasized her perfectly kissable pout, the smudge of smoky eye makeup that perfectly highlighted her gorgeous brown eyes. “Ayyyy, Chica. Could you be any more tempting?” he wondered, with an imperceptible groan.

Realizing he was staring now, and a blush was creeping up her neck and across her cheeks, he cleared his throat. “Wow, ummm ahem. Penelope… you look… caliente, mami.” Although he tripped over his own tongue at first, he managed to regain his wits in time to finish the statement with a wolfish grin and one last sweep of his eyes down the length of her body. “Come on, girl. You have to see how turned on I am. I’m showing my cards here, give me some sign you are interested back,” he silently pleaded with his eyes. 

Penelope giggled, swatting a hand in front of her. “Oh handsome, you flatter me. Keep it up,” she purred. “Not even your insincere flattery can annoy me. I have determined to thoroughly enjoy tonight. I am alive, I have wonderful friends, a fulfilling job, and I even got time with my Hot Stuff this week. I’m beyond spoiled and tonight nothing is going to upset me!” she pronounced.

Before he could respond and correct her mistake- could assure her that not a bit of what he said was insincere, on the contrary- they both heard a knock at the door.

Penelope moved over to open the door, welcoming in the team as they arrived: Will escorting JJ, and then Prentiss… followed by Rossi and Reid just as Penelope had finished helping the first trio hang up their coats. She smiled happily, greeting them each with a hug. “Hey ya, Will! Long time no see my dashing bayou beau! The boys go to the sitter ok, Jayje?” she asked, hugging the couple. She turned to Emily, saying, “Hey love! Sergio will be so happy to see you!” She patted Rossi and Reid’s hands as they entered, preening when Dave told her, “Wow, kitten! Looking good!”

Luke sighed, contenting himself to watch her smile light her eyes as she greeted her friends and offered them beverages. He loved watching her eyes twinkle with merriment as she welcomed the team she adored. He loved hearing the sweet, melodic ring of her giggle which quickly transformed into a seductive, throaty laugh as she joked with the team. “Oh Chica, you do have an amazing life but not because of what you have, but because of what you give all of us- love, joy, laughter. If only you’d realize that you deserve even more, that you deserve passion and romance,” he reflected as he continued nursing his beer.

As she sauntered into the kitchen to begin pulling food out, he threw back the last sip of his drink and strode after her to help. She made a weak attempt to wave him off, but after he shushed her she gladly accepted his help in removing and uncovering dish after delectable dish. “I’ve got to admit, you ordered some delicious looking stuff for a mostly vegetarian restaurant. And you’re a woman after my own heart for sure, ordering a perfectly cooked steak, medium well,” he told her. “Why can’t she just admit how well we work together?” he wondered to himself.

Ferrying dish after dish to the table, Penelope noticed that Luke made sure to brush his hand across hers as often as he could, even going so far as to place a hand on the small of her back as he ushered her ahead of him as they moved through the small space. She didn’t notice however, his disappointment when she didn’t acknowledge his touches, not even with a scathing set-down. He continued uncovering and arranging dishes, and she watched him out of the corner of her eye as she brought out plates and cutlery. “What is going on with him,” she thought, brooding over the events since they’d entered the elevator that night. She invited the others to come and serve themselves.

[laerethbloodhawk]

((Another anon poem for Laereth!))

Anonymous (Sinful, Serious Sunday)

This time, when he entered the post office to pick up his mail, the girl behind the counter did not flinch. Did not shove his letters at him and rush out of the building as if fel hounds nipped at her heels, to put as much distance between herself and him as she could manage. She only offered him her usual shy smile and kept her eyes averted like a Kaldorei who could not bear to look at the sun lest it blind her. The edges of her smile seemed brittle and the remnants of fear still lingered in her hunched shoulders and trembling hands, but she greeted him by name and wished him a good evening.

Only a single letter today, and rather than reeking of flowery perfume or bearing hearts drawn in a clumsy, girlish hand, this one looked like the sort of notice one might receive when being informed that a relative had passed on. The envelope–black as a moonless night–bore the following words in an elegant hand: FOR LAERETH BLOODHAWK, WHO HAS NOT MUCH TIME. Bright against the somber background, the gold ink flashed in the waning sunlight when he stepped out into Tranquillien’s streets, and the back flap had been sealed with black wax. No discernible symbol denoted a possible sender; only what appeared to be a thumbprint pressed down until the wax had cooled.

Upon opening it, he would find a sheet of parchment every bit as dark as its envelope and these verses had been written in the same steady scrawl:

“I want,” she said, “you to bleed ‘til you’re dead,” as her fingers, they combed through his mane. “At the same time, if you died, the tears I would shed fall like raindrops on a cold window pane.” She leaned in too close, drew him in through her nose, and shut her eyes with a soul-crushing sigh. “Still, when considering you, I must weigh cons and pros; sometimes, I only wish that you’d die and stop tormenting me–I am sure you’d agree that you are made wholly of malice. And yet, I find I’d be glad to invite you for tea, though I would surely poison your chalice.” With a tiny, wicked grin, she tapped her pointed chin, and cocked her head to one side. “Be certain, dear Beast, I would–with every pin– bury violent death 'neath your bronze hide.” A breath left her lips and she tightened her grip on the hair she had wound 'round her fist. Her claws tickled his throat. “Ah, one little slip, and, great Hunter, you would cease to exist.” His skin smelled of fire and amber perspired, and she resisted the urge for a taste of the blood that she knew would only inspire more want that would leave her disgraced. “But as much as I hate you and speak just to bait you, I find comfort in your stolid presence. And though I know women would die just to mate you, I would–with these hands–cause misfeasance.” She released him and snickered, bit her hand and whickered, and stepped back to give him some room. The ground still smoldered from where they had bickered, while the sun fell, ushering in twilight gloom. Plopping down to the earth, she stifled her mirth with scaly scarf in which she hid– for across his sharp face, she found a vast death of appreciation for her every quipped bid to put the fear of ruination and eternal damnation in the chill heart that beat in his breast. But he saw, in her eyes, her pupils’ dilation that belied the desires she had confessed. “Tell the truth, little Sandcat–I can smell the foul rat whenever you do your best to lie.” He leaned against the tree at the bottom of which he sat, and he smirked. “Do you want me to die? Do you want me to choke? Do you wish to provoke me, until I cross blades with you? Do you want me to croak? These flames, who would stoke them and ensure that your stories, they grew? Do you think you could take me? Think your threats shake me?” He shook his head and then snorted, quiet. “Do as you will, little Sandcat, but you cannot break me, though I welcome you to draw near and try it.” He reached out with one hand, his skin scarred and tanned, and he caressed the black fall of her hair. “Would you mourn if I could not touch one more strand?” She flinched and avoided his stare. And in her heart churned vile desires that burned and scorched her with orange flame so sweet. Success, she had learned, could only be earned by freeing oneself of conceit. Though he ransacked her memory, made her recall century she had lived, through the mud and the fire, she clung to each image when he entered her reverie every time he outed her as a liar. Like two beasts drawn by scent, using breath to cement the bonds they tried to build up between, she folded in on herself, a bitch who’d relent and with submission, she washed herself clean. “It would be a tough fight, standing against your proud might,” she admitted, and she wrung her small hands. “But I would relish the chance to strike and to smite– you are the only one I know who understands the thrill found in clashing, in running and thrashing like a hare caught 'tween the jaws of a fox and should we break free, our teeth we’d be gnashing, we are friends most unorthodox. Where other people send cards or they hire skilled bards to present, to their friends, a gift–” A half smile crossed her lips. “Customs we disregard. Stereotypical kindness would cause a great rift. So I deliver quick blows to cause, in you, throes of agony; on the ground, you will writhe. And I share with you shows and all my best prose. Around you, I need not be blithe.” She rubbed her face with both palms and envied his calm, while she sat there, tied up in knots. He sat straight and tall, a wall of aplomb, beaming the steadiness that she always sought. “I know what you meant–know that I am content with the truth I can read in your cracks.” He stood then. “Come at me if you wish to repent, we’ll see the power you claim your fist packs.”

They faced off together, his chain and her leather, like wild animals set free from their cord. They met in bright sparks and no one knows whether 'twas her sharp wire or his razor-edged sword that won the altercation; they both faced frustration when neither seemed to come out ahead. “We are two beasts, matched, in their greedy predation,” he said. “Do you still wish me dead?” “I would take your bones, with carving knife I would hone them until their edges grew keen,” she murmured. “For your death, I could not atone. If I killed you, I would only demean myself. I will leave you so I won’t have to grieve you, a shade, I’ll make myself disappear. And I know my scarcity will only relieve you, for I am fog, making vision unclear.”

He scoffed and he smacked her, and the quick pain, it wracked her with a taste of heaven’s undeniable joy. “Foolish little Sandcat,” he growled, staring where he’d cracked her full lip, “is this some pitiful ploy? I am bulwark and tower tall, I make lesser creatures bawl– to whom might I reach out and befriend? I would gut cowardly men and wicked women maul, yet you think you have the power to rescind this bond between us, new–where agony is the glue that binds us in deep camaraderie. I should split you wide open, my blade to stab through to teach you the follies of your snobbery.”

She looked up–she moved slow as if she didn’t quite know what to do or what words she should say, and she blinked. “Are you saying you want friendship to grow, that you’d accept this uncouth, straggly stray?”

He growled, “I’m saying you are daft.” She threw her head back and laughed, and landed on her feet when released.

“Perhaps I am mad,” she agreed, “but I know my craft, and you will make a fine hero, dear Beast, when I tell the tale of how we fought in this vale, and managed to reach an accord.” her smile was impish and she watched his face pale, when she added, “You will soon be adored by all those simpering women who love a good lemon; I’ll write you sweeping them off their feet.”

“You will do no such thing,” he said, “your tongue you will dimmen, or I’ll show you the true nature of defeat.”

“And what will you do?” she scoffed as the captain withdrew, and settled himself by the fire. He shrugged. “Of course–something you’re wholly unused to, 'twill be unlike what you’ve had prior.” His smirk was malicious–oh, this elf was vicious, and he folded his hands in his lap. She squinted and sneered, her eyes so suspicious when he said, “I will start with the strap that will never again kiss your unblemished skin, nor my blade taste your scarlet blood. And I will not give in, no, not even when you prostrate yourself in the mud.” She gasped; he persisted and all that he listed made her squirm and wrinkle her hem. “Oh, don’t get it twisted, you won’t be assisted, you’ll have only yourself to condemn. No ropes or chains to bind, no knots around you twined, no lash to split open your flesh. You’ll be left alone with only your own warped mind, 'twill be your hands that have to refresh the scars that mar you. I won’t even spar you, all you’ll get from me is bland conversation. No joy in pain. Still not convinced, are you? Then seek you my eternal damnation.”

She lowered her chin, drummed her fingers on shin, and considered the threats he gave voice. And gnawing on her lip, her patience wore thin, and she grumbled, “I suppose I’ve no choice. I’ll refrain from writing about all of our fighting, but you’re a bastard; your true colours show through. And because what you’ve threatened is harsh and it’s biting, I will dream of all the ways I could kill you.”

But he knew what she left unsaid with her deft dodging of her honest feeling. And he sniggered to himself–let her bear that heft for without burden, she’d find no healing. Sat the contentious pair–and with quiet swear, she oft broke the amiable silence. And though she shot him foul looks and fierce, stony glare, they were united in a shared love of violence.