#and we were thinking about this cause it is in our open access memory library

[system-of-a-feather]

Anyone else, when growing up, had a friend / friends that you know were exposed to the abuse in your home, no longer are in contact with them, and wonder how they are doing?

(TW: Physical abuse and domestic violence mention)

Cause we have a flashbulb memory, but when we were like 7 or something, we were in our room playing Pokemon figures and shit with our friend and there was extreme yelling and shit in the living room, and they were looking concerned and our 7 year old body (<- how you know we are 20 layers dissociated) just casually went "Oh just ignore them. As long as we stay in here theyll forget about us and they'll get over it. Its normal here." and then just went back to the Pokemon figure game we had turned the bedroom into

Cause in hindsight good god being the friend must have been unnerving how calm, almost snarky, and how heavily we disregard sounds of fighting

[volturiwolf]

The Volturi Princess - A Felix Volturi x fem!Reader Story (part 2)

No of Words: 5182

Mentions of: Abandonment, Abortion, Anxiety, Blood, Bruises, Coma/Comatosed State, Death Emotional Abuse, Emotional and Physical Pain, Gaslighting, Greece/Greek Language - with translation, Heartbreak, Italian Language - with translation, Manipulation, Murder, Pain, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Suffering, Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts, Swear Language, Throwing Up/Puking, Witches/Wizards/Witchcraft

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part 1

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Felix’s POV:

My days in the castle were becoming more and miserable by the minute. I couldn’t stop thinking about (Y/N), she was always on my mind. When there was a mission, I would make myself forget her for a while and would focus on my job. But in times like this, when there was nothing to do in particular, I would stay in my room for hours and hours, and just wouldn’t think about anything else, but her.

It must have been about two decades or so that she left Volterra to “explore the world”, as she said. Time is pretty subjective when you’re supposed to live forever. Yet, I was mentally counting every moment she was away. I was taking mental notes of everything that was going around here, every prank Demetri and I would pull off to annoy either Jane or each other, every important event or mission we were sent to, so I could tell (Y/N) later. I smiled at the thought of her laughing along with me, and then my smile dropped when I realized she may never even come back.

Why would she? Living with the Volturi - with Aro - controlling her life, how she should have looked like, how she was expected to act in every different situation, and, on top of that, pushing her to her physical and mental limits to declare any gift besides strength, speed and tracking must have been exhausting for her. All these years.. All these years of emotional isolation must have affected her greatly.

Aro had never been the most affectionate person I’ve met. When the twins joined the Volturi, and then the Guard, he focused on them exclusively, training and mentoring them every day to develop their gifts. (Y/N) was pushed aside, a lost cause; she would never be the powerful vampire/weapon Aro hoped he acquired all these centuries ago.

He hoped that she would manage to declare a power similar to her mother - an exceptional mind-reader (and shield, as we found out centuries later) or even a new and unique power, given her father’s lineage. (Y/N) never expressed anything “unique” for Aro’s standards, but to me, she was just perfect. We were equally strong and fast - maybe she was even stronger and faster than me, and she was also an incredible tracker, like Demetri, though he could track anyone he has ever met, just by hearing their conscience.

And now, she is gone. She had left me. I caught myself quite a few times thinking what would our lives be like, had I told her how I felt - and still feel - about her. I am pretty sure that she was feeling the same, that she felt our bond, our connection. But, just like her, I never came forward; I was never true to myself, or her; I never told her that I would dedicate my immortal life to her if that meant that she would stay here with me.

And now, I pay for it. I've been drowning in misery and pain. Not physical pain, I could handle physical pain by now. Even Jane’s induced pain was nothing compared to the kind of pain I’ve been feeling ever since (Y/N) left. I felt as if I were a mortal and my heart was ripped out of my body and stepped on. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, though I didn’t actually need to breathe.

Demetri must have heard my sharp gasps for air, as my door opened widely, a terrified Demetri standing under the framework. He stared at my unwell state, and rushed to me, hugging me tightly. I left a few sobs and felt tears that couldn’t come. Demetri did not say a word for a few minutes, stroking my hair with his left hand and holding me with his right one. I held onto him as if I was holding on for dear life.

My mind was just blurry and I couldn’t think straight. Was that what it felt like, being away from your mate? I missed her dearly. All these years, I never told anyone other than Demetri about (Y/N) possibly being my mate, although I think Marcus would probably know already.

As my sobs started coming to an end, I was able to finally take deep breaths, and focus my mind on a particular spot on the floor to calm myself. Demetri cupped my face with his hands, trying to calm me down by saying a few comforting words. To outsiders, this scene may have looked strange, if not weird, but Demetri and I, being best friends for almost one millennium, had that kind of intimacy, and we both liked how open we could be to each other.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them slowly, feeling a bit calmer than I did 10 minutes ago. I needed to feel each moment of my pain; I needed to feel again what it’s like being apart from the only person I ever loved; I needed to remember every moment I was close to her, and then wasn’t.

“Are you feeling better now?” Dem asked calmly, still holding my face. I nodded slightly, and he let his hands fall on his lap. “Were you thinking about (Y/N) again?” I nodded again. I nodded again.

He frequently caught me thinking absentmindedly, or even sobbing slightly, but never a full-on breakdown. He took my quite big hands in his smaller ones, patting them condescendingly. I didn’t want to be pitied by others, but Dem never made fun of me for hurting, never made me feel less of the “evil executioner” I was known to be.

“I don’t know what it feels like, being separated from your mate, so I won’t tell you how to feel or act about it. I just want you to know that you can come to me if you feel down. It pains me to see you hurting, though I understand that her very absence has affected you greatly. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, and I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. You may not see it, but Alec, even Jane, worries about you and want you to be happy. We will all do whatever it takes to see you happy again, even if that means running after (Y/N)..”

My head jolted. I asked him if he was serious. “I’m not lying or joking, Felix. If we have to go after her and bring her back to you, we’ll do it. You’re our friend and we’re your friends. That’s what friends do.”

I couldn’t believe it! There was a chance that (Y/N) was still out there, and my friends were willing to help me find her. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the Witch Twins felt like true friends to me, and as long as I had them and Demetri, I think I could do anything in this world.

Now, we just had to talk to the twins, and see what they thought of it. I don’t know if we were even allowed to drop off all the missions and duties we had here and go search for (Y/N). I know we had to take the kings’ permission before we could do anything, and I was worried and kind of terrified with the idea of them knowing (Y/N) and I were mates, and how badly in love I was with her.

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Demetri’s POV:

It was just another day in the Volterra castle. I was wandering around, having finished my duties for the day, probably for the week as well - it all depended on the Masters’ or the Twins’ mood for a “sudden, important mission” popping up in my schedule.

I wasn’t the type of person to spend their free time in the library, like the Twins, or in my room, like Felix. I vaguely remember my human life. My family was a typical middle-class Athenian family, and we were lucky enough to own a decent piece of land for cultivation. I would spend hours working on the fields, planning possible expansions and new techniques for richer crops.

I smiled slightly at the memory; that’s basically what I mostly remembered from my mortal life before Amun found me and turned me into what I am today. Before I traveled to Egypt to live with the Egyptian coven. Before Aro found me and converted me to his coven. I didn’t know how he managed to convert me then until I found out about Chelsea’s gift.

But even then, I never actually felt the need to leave the Volturi. I had a good life here; I had great friends; easy access to human blood, thanks to Heidi; I had it easy for the price I paid serving the three Volturi kings.

My train of thought was cut short when I heard quiet sobs. I wasn’t regarded as the best tracker for nothing; based on the volume of the sobs, the surrounding atmosphere, and the tone of the voice coming out, I could easily detect that it was Felix, sobbing in his room.

I run quickly, not caring about anyone walking through the corridors. I reached his door and opened it widely, not caring to wait for a response. I saw Felix sobbing on his bed, his eyes tearless but still desperate, trying to gasp for air, although we don’t really need to breathe. I rushed to his side, hugging him tightly, letting his sobs shake through my body.

I didn’t say a thing for some time, stroking his hair with one hand and holding him with my other, trying to find the right thing to say to calm him down. He held on to me for dear life, and I felt as if he was, once again, upset for (Y/N). His sobs started slowing down and he started taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Without thinking, I cupped his face, telling him a few comforting words, watching him close his eyes, and taking one deep breath.

“Are you feeling better now?” I asked him calmly, and I felt myself getting calmer as he nods slightly. I let my hands fall on my lap and asked him what I’ve been thinking about all this time. “Were you thinking about (Y/N) again?” Felix nodded, confirming my suspicions.

I caught him plenty of times not being himself - his cautious, meticulous, present self; the one who was always concentrated and focused on the present. He sobbed often these days, but never a full-on breakdown. This had me worried. I took his hands in mine and patted them, showing him that I understood what he was going through, although I, myself, never found my mate. I told him so, that I didn’t know what it was like for him to be away from his mate, but also that I would never disregard how and what he felt.

I just didn’t want him to hurt; I wanted him to know that I’ll always be there for him, whenever he needed me. And, though he may not actually believe it, Alec and Jane were also worried about him. He may have not noticed it, but I wasn’t the only one who saw that he was in pain.

Alec and Jane also saw that Felix was not his confident, straightforward self anymore, so I told them once what I suspected all along. That the absence of (Y/N) affected him way more than it affected Jane, who was (Y/N)’s best girlfriend, or even Heidi, Chelsea, and Corin, even Renata, who spent most of her time on Aro’s side, being his main bodyguard.

Without thinking clearly, I suggested that we could all go after (Y/N), find her, and bring her back to Felix. His head jolted, and looked at me in disbelief, not being sure if I was serious. I told him I was, and, at this moment, his whole demeanor changed. It was probably the first time after such a long time that I’ve seen him actually smiling, and my undead soul felt at peace at last. We now only had to inform the twins, and, probably, anyone else willing to help.

My only worry was the kings, especially Aro; he probably didn’t know about (Y/N) and Felix’s mate bond, and I don’t even know what he’ll think of it when he finds out. Now, I had other things to worry about; how to get the Twins to come with us and bring (Y/N) back to Volterra.

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“We’re in.” Jane declared decisively, Alec agreed along with a nod, standing close to his twin.

“Are you both sure about that? We don’t know if the kings will allow us to go find her. Heck, I don’t even know if I could track her. I could never track (Y/N)’s mind, like ever. We may be wandering in vain, searching for her in places she’s never been. It may take a lot of time if we ever find her.”

I wanted to be honest with them about the worst-case scenario, feeling Felix slightly squirm nearby. I turned around to face the giant. His face was a mix of pain and anger, his eyes a dark burgundy, almost black from not feeding the past few weeks. This reminded me to get him to hunt soon, whether we left Volterra or not. I turned back to the twins.

“Demetri. You know that (Y/N) is our friend, too. Alec and I would do anything to bring her back.” Jane then turned to Felix. “Whatever happens, we will all stand by your side.” Felix mumbled a small “thank you”, so quiet that only us four could barely hear, still looking down, at the floor.

“We have to go and tell them.” I announced, gulping my non-existent saliva. They all knew I was referring to the three kings, and we all knew the possibility of being denied to leave on this mission of ours.

“Let me handle this. You know they cannot deny me anything.” Jane stated and led the way towards the throne room, full of confidence and reassurance.

It was true after all that Jane and Alec, being the kings’ favourite guards, were not denied anything. (Y/N) enjoyed such privileges as well, being the continuation of Aro’s bloodline, possibly our future Queen, if the kings ever decided to step down from their royal duties.

Within a minute, Jane opened the doors to the throne room widely and stepped in, followed closely by Alec and Felix and I following nearby.

“Jane! Alec! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my two favourite children?” Aro almost chirped at the sight of the twins, not even acknowledging Felix and I’s presence.

He has always been too nice to the twins, the Volturi’s most powerful offensive weapons. My gift and Felix’s raw strength are nothing compared to Jane’s ability to inflict mental pain, or Alec’s ability to deprive one or multiple people’s senses at will.

“Masters, the four of us request your permission to leave on a mission. We don’t know how long it will take us or when we’ll come back, but I assure you we’ll be back as soon as we’re done with it.” Jane informed the kings confidently, and Aro’s brows furrowed slightly.

“What kind of a mission, dear Jane? I don’t remember giving you all a mission recently.” Aro seemed curious, as he nodded towards Jane to come closer. Jane obeyed, stepping closer to Aro and extending her hand towards him, who gladly took it into his palms.

A few minutes passed by, with Aro looking nowhere in particular, while he studied Jane’s thoughts, until he came back, and let Jane’s hand slowly out of his own ones. Felix tensed beside me; we both knew now that Aro knows about the purpose of our mission, and that he may also know about (Y/N) and Felix’s bond, as he stared at him with an evil smirk. He turned towards Marcus.

“Is it true, brother?” He asked the melancholic vampire to his right. Marcus seemed unamused, which was quite typical of him.

“Yes. They’ve been mates for quite some time.” He dragged his words.

Aro turned back to us. “And yet, (Y/N) chose to leave Volterra, to “explore the world”, away from her mate. Seems that their bond is not as strong after all.”

Felix was becoming more and more furious beside me. I could sense his distaste towards our master, as Aro invalidated their bond, and probably, him being his granddaughter’s mate. Felix confessed to me multiple times that he didn’t feel worthy of being (Y/N)’s mate; that she deserved a lot more than just an average vampire guard.

That’s why he never confessed his true feelings towards her, only looking at her from afar, and hoping that one day, she would confess her feelings first, so they could be together forever. Neither of them ever confessed, and, with (Y/N) being gone for quite some time now, Felix seemed to have regretted not telling her. Maybe they could have been together now, and he wouldn’t have his heart broken over her absence.

Aro’s voice broke my train of thought. “You have my permission to go find my granddaughter, but, before you go, you’ll have to make a plan. I cannot risk my guards leaving Volterra for too long. You’ll have to decide who will come with you, and you’ll have to be back as soon as you find her. No procrastination. You have three days to plan and make your decisions. Now, go, and make sure you bring (Y/N) back!” Aro waved his hand, showing us our way out of the throne room.

We never thought we had to make a plan to find (Y/N); we didn’t expect Aro to let us leave on such a mission, where we wouldn’t know if we’d even find (Y/N). But he did, and now we had to make a plan. We knew that it would definitely be Felix, the twins, and me, but we didn’t know if anyone else wanted to join us.

Word spread fast because, within a few hours, most of the guards were already trying to help us decide on a plan, whether they could or could not join us on the actual mission. In the end, we decided it would be just the four of us, and we only had to make a plan as to where we would go to search for (Y/N).

We left within 3 days, going down to Sicily, traveling across the sea, to Malta, where we found Renata’s family. When we asked them about (Y/N), out of fear of Jane and Alec, her uncle told us she visited them once, about 20 years ago. “She kept saying how she planned to travel the world, Europe, Asia, America, Africa.. Wherever she could go.” Luca kept saying.

We left immediately after that. We decided to continue with our plan, first traveling across Europe. It wasn’t an easy task; most of the continent was at war with the Ottomans, and the rest was divided into smaller or bigger countries, nothing stable or permanent yet. We passed through North Europe, traveling towards the South, traveling across North Africa, ending up in Egypt.

I met with Amun, almost 700 years after I left him and Egypt for Aro and Italy. He was neither pleased nor surprised. He was rather cautious and guarded due to the Twins’ and Felix’s presence. He didn’t ask me why I left him, but he did invite us to stay in Egypt for some time. We told him we were in a hurry, we had to find (Y/N).

“So, it is true then? Aro’s granddaughter abandoned him at last..”. He grinned.

“What do you mean “at last”?” Felix became upset quite quickly.

“You never realized it before? When Chelsea, (Y/N) and yourself came with Aro and took Demetri with you, I saw it in (Y/N)’s eyes.” We were all confused. Amun continued.

“She looked miserable. She probably didn’t even want to be here, doing Aro’s bidding. She wasn’t made to serve him and his every wish. She indeed passed by a decade or two ago. She apologized for her part in Demetri’s departure, and she stayed with us for about a month or two. I welcomed her because I understood Aro destroyed her life, just as he destroyed ours.”

“What did she want in Egypt?” Felix was becoming more anxious by the minute.

Amun continued his narration. “She wanted to learn about Egypt, the Pyramids, the Pharaohs. She told me she read a lot about Ancient Egypt; how Alexander the Great colonized Egypt and many Greeks have been living here ever since; how the Great Pyramids were built. She just wanted to see all the history from up close. She wanted to experience everything. Who wouldn’t, right?” He grinned again, like the proud Egyptian he was, having seen all of Egypt’s glory through the past millennia.

It was Jane’s time to ask the questions. “So, she just visited? She didn’t say where she was going after she left?”

“She said she wanted to go and visit places. Though, she didn’t say where she would go. I would tell you if I knew.” Amun looked arrogant but cautious. He wouldn’t risk getting on Jane’s bad side, so he chose to tell the truth about (Y/N).

“We won’t be staying then. Let’s go.” Jane ordered and ran out of Amun’s palace, Alec following closely behind her.

Felix stayed behind, and I stopped in my tracks. “If you have her and you lied to us, I swear I will rip you apart with my own hands!” Felix pointed at Amun while threatening him.

Amun didn’t seem to be phased at all. “Believe me, I wouldn’t want to get on Aro’s bad side. I already lost someone important to me.” He looked straight at me, and then back to Felix. “But, if you want to find her, you may want to find Carlisle first. She admired him, for choosing to be more human than vampire. When he visited me last time, he did mention how (Y/N) was the only Volturi that didn’t really seem to actually belong in the Volturi. She was too kind for her own good.”

Felix's jaw clenched, and I grabbed him before he managed to attack Amun. I mumbled a “thank you” to Amun, and we ran to find the Twins. My tracking skills could sense Carlisle from a distance, so it wouldn’t be hard to find him. Finding (Y/N), though, was a totally different story.

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(Y/N)’s POV:

I woke up with a throbbing headache in an unknown place. My eyes couldn’t focus on anything in particular around me. I could barely distinguish the wooden furniture around me, and the burning fire in the fireplace. My hand traversed through woolen fabrics of different textures. Was I in bed? Was I in a bedroom? As my senses started to go back to normal, I started hearing people talking, a woman and man talking..in Greek?

“Αλέξανδρε, η (Ο/Σ) γύρισε! Το κοριτσάκι μας γύρισε επιτέλους!” (“Alexander, (Y/N) is back! Our little girl is finally back!”)

“Το ξέρω, Στέλλα. Πρέπει να την προστατεύσουμε, να την κρατήσουμε κοντά μας. Δε γίνεται να γυρίσει πίσω στη Βολτέρρα.” (“I know, Stella. We have to protect her, to keep her close to us. She cannot go back to Volterra.”)

“Τι θα κάνουμε αν την ψάξει ο Άρο ή κάποιος άλλος από τη φρουρά; Το ξέρουμε και οι δυο ότι, όπου και να είναι, θα κινδυνεύει.” (“What are we going to do if Aro or someone else from the Guard is looking for her? We both know that, wherever she is, she will be in danger.”)

“Το μόνο που μπορούμε να κάνουμε είναι να φροντίσουμε να την προετοιμάσουμε κατάλληλα. Πρέπει να μάθει το πραγματικό μέγεθος της δύναμής της. Ένιωθα τη δύναμη που είναι συσσωρευμένη μέσα της. Μπορεί να κάνει πραγματικά σπουδαία πράγματα, αρκεί να μάθει να ελέγχει τον εαυτό της και τις δυνάμεις της.” (“The only thing we can do is to make sure she is prepared accordingly. She has to learn the true extent of her power. I felt the power built up inside her. She can do amazing things, as long as she learns to control herself and her powers.”)

I was confused. My parents.. I found my parents. I faintly remember when I met them in the woods. I looked down at my body. I did not wear my white gown anymore, the one which I had once cut below the knee, so I could run around freely. I was now wearing a red dress, the vest covered in gold details. The vest’s sleeves went down, just a few centimeters above my wrists. The dress was made of silk, and it felt nice against my skin; I was finally wearing new, clean clothes and it felt nice.

I jumped out of the bed, and the dress flew around me, falling gently just above my ankles. There was a tearing to the side, which I thought was a nice detail, so I could actually run. I ran at a vampire speed towards the door and out of the room. I saw my parents talking in the living room, in front of the fireplace where another fire was burning bright and warmed up the room.

“Για τι πράγμα μιλούσατε; Σας άκουγα. Γιατί να έρθουν για μένα; Τι πρέπει να μάθω;” (“What were you talking about? I heard you. Why would they come for me? What do I have to learn?”)

My mother cupped my face affectionately. “Ψυχούλα μου, το ξέρεις ότι ο Άρο θα σε αναζητήσει. Θα κάνουμε τα πάντα για να σε προστατέψουμε, αλλά πρέπει να μάθεις να πολεμάς για τον εαυτό σου. Ήρθε η ώρα να μάθεις για τις πραγματικές σου δυνατότητες. Ο μπαμπάς σου θα σου μάθει ό,τι χρειάζεται να μάθεις για να εξασκήσεις τη μαγεία σου.” (“My little soul, you know that Aro will look for you. We’ll do everything to protect you, but you’ll have to learn to fight for yourself. It’s time to learn about your true capabilities. Your dad will teach you whatever you need to know to practice your magic.”)

“Now, follow us, (Y/N). I will teach you everything I know.” Dad took one of my hands in his and mom took my other hand in hers, and they led me outside, to the garden.

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In the months that followed, I learned how to defend myself using my powers; how to cast spells; how to attack; I even learned how to use dark magic. And as time passed and I perfected my magic, the more magic and energy I could pump out of me, and the more I felt drawn to dark magic. It gave me an unexplainable power; a confidence that I could define my own life; a confidence that I could free myself from Aro.

My only concerns were my friends and Felix; though I was quite powerful by now, the only thing that kept me behind, trapped between what I have to do for myself and what I have to do for others, was the thought of Felix. I have already lost so much time being away from him, and sometimes, that was translated to physical pain, which I didn’t know could happen between mates. I assumed that it was the same for him as well, and I didn’t want him to be in pain.

Unlike the other vampires, I could cry, heck, I would cry for hours and hours. And that pain, that emptiness, would eventually feed the darkness in me. I couldn’t see it at first, but I started having darker, evil thoughts. I stopped feeding off of animals and started killing people. I killed people for their blood, or for fun - either way, I would still consume their blood. I was feeding my thirst and my darkness, becoming insensitive and slowly mad for revenge.

My parents wouldn’t say anything; I knew that it was part of their plan to get revenge on Aro. Unbeknownst to my mom, I also managed to copy her mind-reading, and having already copied Aro’s power, I could manage to know everything both of my parents have ever thought about. My magic penetrated her shield quite easily, and I managed to learn everything I needed to know about their plan, their lives, their abilities, and magic.

I was now way more powerful than them. I didn’t need them; they needed me - they needed me to take over Volterra. It all started as a need to take over territory and become powerful; powerful enough that they could challenge the Volturi and cease their powers, possibly manage to take me and any other powerful guard they found under their rule.

However, me finding them made their plan way easier - they knew that they could persuade me to do their bidding and join them. I was their daughter after all; we were family, and, although they didn’t raise me, they knew that I would much rather stay with them than Aro, given his past.

I didn’t oppose their plan; I wasn’t fond of it, but I didn’t mind. It could be a way to be finally recognized and appreciated. I could finally become the princess, officially, and I could take my friends and Felix away from Aro. We would be together; we wouldn’t be scared of what Aro may think of us; we would be finally free.

These thoughts pushed me day after day to push myself and my limits more. I had to become as powerful as I could ever be. The darkness was consuming my soul and I was welcoming it; I wanted to be in power; I wanted to be in control. I visualized the darkness surrounding me and consuming me; a black smoke swinging out of my body, surrounding me, and swirling around me. I could feel my eyes stink and I smelled the blood that was now oozing out of them. I felt my insides twist and turn, and I screamed in pain; my feet not being able to support my body anymore, as I fell down on my knees.

I felt the darkness “painting” my soul and turning it into a long abyss. I felt my humanity being stripped away from me, like a hand reaching out and ripping my heart out of my body and slowly crashing it. And then, it all stopped. I raised my head and looked at the world around me in a different light. The world was darker, meaner; everyone was my enemy. I would not let anyone subjugate me again; I would not be a victim anymore. I would take my revenge on the Volturi, I would make them pay.

[crashlikely]

A New World

The first thing that I notice is the sound. The honking of cars, sirens wailing in the distance, and the pounding of feet on pavement. The next thing that hits me is the smell. The smell of sewage, cigarettes and gasoline. Where the fuck am I?  Groggily I open my eyes, my mind is still foggy. I appear to be in an alleyway of sorts, there’s a dumpster and some puddles of who-knows-what liquid. How did I get here? My heart begins to race as I try to think of all the possible reasons why me, a 17 year old girl, is alone laying on some alley floor in some random city. I push myself up onto my feet. Ok, what’s the last thing you remember? I squint my eyes shut as I strain my brain to remember the last thing I did. I remember, falling asleep in my bed? Or was I walking my dog? Why can’t I remember? Suddenly pain jolts through my brain, I press my hand up to it and feel a bump swelling. I must’ve hit my head. Ok, no need to panic. Let’s just figure out what city we are in and try to find a way to contact our parents, they must be worried sick. Perhaps find a public library? With that I push aside my fears and worries and begin to make my way out of the alley. 

I squint my eyes shut as I am temporarily blinded by the light. God I hate the city. I begin to walk down the sidewalk looking for a map or some landmark that I might somehow know. As I round the corner I’m faced with a sight that I never thought I’d see: the Avengers Tower. Holy shit. Oh my god. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. I immediately stop and stare, a person bumps into me but my body won’t move. This isn’t happening. It’s not real. Technically, it isn’t the Avengers Tower–yet. Right now it still says Stark in nice big letters along the side. Which means that the Chitauri invasion hasn’t happened yet. Oh shit that means that it’s pre 2012–What fucking year is it?! Suddenly an even worse realization dawns on me: SHIELD is a thing. What if they’re watching me? What if how I got here alerted them somehow?  I can’t let them know what I know because if I do, then Hydra will know. Just pretend that everything is normal. With that, I force myself to move forward, closer to Stark tower. What if they saw that reaction? Ask me why I froze? What’s my story? Obviously I don’t exist in this world, or if I do I’m only seven years old. I can’t let them find mini me. Panic starts to grow in my stomach but I resist the urge to let it show. I want to look around for SHIELD agents but it wouldn’t do me any good. Ok, let’s just stick to the plan and find a public library, that way your behavior should match up with what a normal teenager would do in your situation. Maybe you can pass off your Stark tower moment as realization that you were in NYC. Tell them you have no idea what’s going on, which technically isn’t a lie. 

I should probably ask someone for directions, I don’t know how much time I have before SHIELD snatches me up. I look around in the crowd of pedestrians and I spot a trustworthy looking blonde woman. Forcing a smile onto my face I approach her and ask:

“Excuse me, do you know where the library is?” Surprised that someone would talk to her, she flinches a bit.

“Oh hi, uh” she collects herself. “The library? It’s that way, take a right at the second light.”

“Thank you, have a good one.”

“You too.” She nods and returns to looking at her phone. Her phone. Wait–where’s my phone? I immediately start padding my pockets and I find it in my hoodie. It’s an iphone XR which causes dread to fill in my stomach. I don’t even know if Apple exists in this world, and if they do, they definitely haven’t released this model yet. It’s a dead give away that I’m not from around here. What if they managed to gain access to it? Go through its memory, find things about Civil War, Endgame, Multiverse of Madness? If Hydra got their hands on it, it could be devastating. Ideas race through my head, running through every possible scenario I can conceive. By the time I reach the library I still don’t have a solution. Should I destroy it? But I might need it. As I open the library door, I hold it open for a couple leaving. I turn my head over my shoulder to watch them walk away and out of the corner of my eye I spy a glimpse of red hair. Is it her? If it is, I'm as good as dead. I didn’t take my phone out of my pocket, so they shouldn’t know about it. Should I try to hide it somewhere in the library? As I make my way in I greet the receptionist with a smile. What should I do? Just then I see one of the security cameras on the ceiling. I should find somewhere where there isn’t one of those. Maybe I can hide my phone there.  With that I start exploring the library, constantly panicking about the potential redhead tailing me. 

After some browsing I found a corner without a security camera. There are a couple shelves and a trash can. This could work. Quietly I grabbed the bottom rim of the trash can, it was one of those semi concrete ones, and luckily the underside of it was elevated so my phone could fit underneath without being crushed. Hopefully this will work. Now to do some research. Choosing not to worry about things that were now out of my hands (my phone), I made my way to the computer section of the library.

The computer had one of those pre programmed systems where you put in your name and you could use it for an hour before it kicked you out. Recognizing that what I put in was definitely going to be monitored, I needed to be careful what I put on here. Anything could be used against me. Images of the cold manipulative eyes of SHIELD agents flashes in my mind. I've seen what they do to their enemies, so I know what they may do to me. Hopefully the agents sent after me aren’t Hydra agents. With that I typed in the username: CrashLikely. I figured that this whole endeavor was likely to crash and burn at some point, either with me dead or horribly damaged so it felt like a fitting name. Now the real fun begins. 

Ok, so we know that you are in a marvel universe, but we don’t know which one. If it’s 616 then you’ll know most of the events that will take place, but even if it’s not, information about characters and items should remain relatively consistent. The worse thing would be if this was 199999, which I think is the comic universe. There’s tons of crazy shit in there, which means that we’ll probably die. If this is 616 then there is going to be no x-men or fantastic four. So why don’t we look up Richards and see what comes up? If Reed Richards shows up, we may have a fantastic four on our hands, but if not then we could just pretend that Richards is our last name?  After staring at the google search bar for 10 minutes I began to type Ri–Wait why don’t we just look up the news? If the fantastic four are in this world then there’s no way they wouldn’t be in the news. I delete Ri and look up news instead. There are articles about the Stark Expo attack aftermath and its ramifications a year after its occurrence. Great, nothing about x-men or fantastic four, looks like this may be a 616-ish universe after all. I look at one of the article dates, May 13th 2011. Which means there’s about a year until the Chitauri invasion. Which I should let happen. I have to. It's how the avengers form, but are the lives that will be lost a fair trade? I scrunch my nose at the thought. Why do I have to make decisions like this…I just want to go home. The thought hits me like a bullet: I’m never getting home. There’s no way. Maybe Strange? But he isn’t the sorcerer supreme yet. I’ll have to wait. I don’t know much about the Ancient One, and it’s a risk I’m not willing to take. I sigh. Ok, less long term planning, more short term. I return to the search bar and type out “New York homeless teen shelter”, if I’m not abducted by SHIELD, I’m going to need a place to stay and this may be a good place to get back on my feet. The Covenant House New York. Hopefully this one will work. I can’t believe I’m in another universe. Or dimension. I have no idea. What if my genetic makeup doesn’t match up with that of the people here? What if I have “powers” because I come from another reality? This is just wishful thinking. Instead of hoping for some hail mary I should expect that I am an ordinary human person, that way I hopefully won’t get killed. I log out of the computer, it’s around 5:00pm, I should probably head to that shelter now. As I wave goodbye to the receptionist, I see a deadman waiting for me at the door. 

Phil Coulson. 

Fuck. 

—---------------

Authors note:

Hope you are enjoying the story so far. 

If you feel motivated to and have the means, you can donate to the Covenant House in New York. Here’s the link: https://ny.covenanthouse.org/, they provide food and shelter to teens who are faced with homelessness. Every night there are 34,210 unaccompanied homeless youths, which sucks. So if you can, donate to your own local shelters and help spread awareness of this issue. Thank you :>

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 56- Ancient Quarrels

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Ex returns home with new friends, but struggles with the reality that his old stomping grounds have grown up without him, all while learning more about the history of dark magic.

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

“I thought I told you to come alone.” Xisuma states, staring at the rainbow haired twins. No matter how much the two try to blend in, the ever shifting colors of their locks always stand out. 

“I thought you could use the help. You clearly need it if you reached out to me.”  Ex steps off the pirate ship, followed by the king and his brother. Ex tries his best to keep his gaze on the ground at his feet, the grass, sand, and dirt. He doesn’t want to see what Xisuma and all his friends have done to the safe haven they found together. As brothers. He doesn’t want to see what he's missed, what he’s been too afraid to claim for his own. He doesn’t want to see how much time has changed the island he once called home. 

But Ex stumbles over a rock, his books scattering from his arms, while he plummets to the ground. He could let go of his remaining scrolls and books, but these articles are ancient and invaluable. He’d rather break his nose than let go of them. 

Lucky for Ex, he doesn’t have to choose. One of the hermits grabs him before he gets a mouthful of dirt. Ex opens his eyes, forced to look at the island. And he sees everything. 

It looka exactly the same. It looks completely different. The grounds were the same- the same rocky shores, soft beaches, hills, forest, even the lake at the center on the north side of the island. The grass the same green color, the sky the same blue, the distant mist and waves dancing together. But dotting the island now stood a menagerie of buildings. Where there used to only be the tower of stone he and X built, now a glass biodome rests on one side, a barn on the other. Smoke rolls free from the chimney of a weaponsmith’s house, and just off the island a cloud floats low, the white tower upon it open to the breeze of the sea. 

Ex collects his books, and slinks off to the guild hall. Sor follows Grian to help with Apatia, to make the decision on how to move forward with his recovery. Tris follows behind Ex, taking in the open sea and sky. So unlike Milliara. 

It was exactly that which drew the void twins here in the first place. They dared enter the Ashioll sea because it was quiet, peaceful, unlike Milliara. Back when there were only two- they didn’t need anyone more. They didn’t want anyone more. In the end, Ex got to be alone, moreso than ever. Without even a brother. 

Being back on Eremita was painful, but as a healing wound would be. For the first time in years, his brother reached out to him. For the first time, they were putting aside the argument so long ago and working together. Like they did when they were young. 

At the same time, both X and Ex set out their books on the same table. At the same time, like mirror images of one another, they set out their maps, their inkwells, their quills, even their books ordered the exact same way. The similarities between the two were uncanny, leaving the hermits baffled as they watch them. If it wasn’t for Ex’s white hair, it’d be impossible to tell them apart. 

Ex speaks first, pulling the red fabric of his cloak away from his face so the hermits can hear him. “The last known insurgence of dark magic was over a thousand years ago. Before Lairyon became a kingdom, near the end of the ancient ones’s time. As we all know, Addows is the only place that still has significant and readable history of the ancient ones. Everything disappeared just like them.” 

“And no one knows why.” Tris adds in, sitting down and plucking a book. He flips through the pages. “The ancient ones had magic more powerful than most wizards. Very few forms of ancient powers survive today- including angelic magic.” 

The hermits look at Grian, but he simply shrugs. He knows nothing about the ancient ones, just that they’re… well, ancient. Iskall speaks up, resting his cheek on his hand. “Could it be that it was the dark magic that wiped them out?” 

Both of the void twins and Tris shake their head, and begin to answer at the same time. Ex and X glare at one another, and Tris takes the moment to answer instead. “No, it’s not like there’s a sign of a fight, or a struggle, or anything. Just...one day they were all over this kingdom, and then- poof, gone.”

“But the ancient ones weren’t the only people here. The kiplings have been living in these waters longer than anyone. And if we cross reference the information King Sormena gave me access to in the royal library, and the deep sea libraries of the Kiplings, we can start to get an inkling of understanding.”

“My gods you’re so boring even now.” Xisuma groans. “We dont need the whole story, and Lairyon doesn’t have time. What did you learn and how can we use it to defeat Dolios?” 

“Well…” Ex bits his lip. “We didn’t learn how they defeated the dark magic all those times before. But we did find the location of one of their lost cities. Tris and I believe it could even be the ancient capital of theirs.” 

The hermits groan, some even dramatically flopping back in their chairs. It seems all they ever have are breadcrumbs, leading them around in circles all across Lairyon. TFC speaks up first, though even he seems exhausted. “It’s better than nothing. It’s our only hope at this point. So where is it?” 

“Tris had pinpointed the general location of the lost city in the Ashioll Fjords, but together we were able to determine the exact location.” Ex plucks a quill from the table, dipping the tip in the ink and marking one of the many divots and crests of the northernmost part of Lairyon. All the hermits lean in, peering at the location. It looks no different from any other part of the fjords, or even the rest of Lairyon. 

“If anyone knows how to defeat Dolios’s dark magic, it has to be the ancient ones.” Etho states. “They did it before, we just have to do it again.”

It gives the hermits hope to know this isn’t the first time, they aren’t the only ones in all of history to face dark magic. Ex looks up at the hermits, a question that’s been dancing in his mind finding its way to his tongue before he can stop it. “Why did you guys ever decide to do this? What in the world made you guys think you could take on a dark wizard? Be the chosen few like the ancient ones?”

The hermits look at one another, as if they’d find an answer in the stares and faces of their peers. But no one has the answer. Though Joe is more than willing to come up with his own. “Perhaps, in this story, there are no chosen ones. No destiny or prophesied heroes. Perhaps it is just by the choice of normal man, who chooses to make a difference, who chooses to stand up and fight, that is really what makes a hero?” 

“Is this what I missed when I left?” Ex questions Xisuma, who nods solemnly.

“What will we find in the lost city?” Grian questions. 

“I dunno, it’s lost.” Tris quips, causing Grian to blush when he realizes his question. “But if it’s anything like Addows, you should be prepared for ancient ones magic and the stone buildings they made their cities from. Apart from that- you just gotta look in the right place.” 

The hermits realize they’re going in on this blind. Once again, they have little more than a hope, a thread of a lead, taking them somewhere in search of answers. Whether it was Gildara, or the Champion’s Cup, or even the Forest of Memories, they’ve always been chasing the same specter of knowledge. Hoping to find something more. 

“But you won’t be alone this time.” Ex points out. The hermits turn to face him, his face so familiar, yet so vastly different. “King Sormena volunteered to go along with you, to give aid on your search.” 

Tris averts his gaze, his jaw set tight at the mention of his brother joining the hermits. Doc raises his hand, almost condescending. “Won’t Dolios notice the king is gone?” 

“He’s not in Milliara right now. The Wanderers informed me of that- where he is, I don’t know, but this is a rare opportunity that we can’t waste. You’ll need every mind and magic to figure out the puzzles and clues that the lost city may have. I’d best get packing if i were you guys.” 

Groups disperse off, back to their homes, caves, ships, and clouds. Once again preparing, as a whole guild, to go off on another adventure. Even Tris disappears, either to go find and argue with his brother, or get a pint of beer from Cleo. But one person stays behind. 

Xisuma doesn’t ever look directly at his brother, but he always turns his head just slightly to be able to see Ex shuffling papers. His body is aimed out from the guild hall, looking over, across the island of Eremita. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, X speaks up. “Will you be able to take care of Apatia while we’re gone? I don’t think he can go back to Milliara with you.” 

Ex raises an eyebrow. It almost sounds like an invitation to stay on the island. Almost. “I guess if no one else will, I can offer my help. And glean information from him about the magistrate. Perhaps I can talk to Ian about engineering a prosthesis… Kiplings aren’t really meant to live without their fins.” 

The void mage shakes his head, listening to his brother continue to ramble on under his breath. So many years apart, and yet the same old Ex. For the first time in years, after so long hating his twin, refusing to talk to him, removing every sign he ever existed on this island, now he’s standing in their guild hall. And for the first time in years, Xisuma feels like he can let go of the anger and tension from that fight so long ago. 

Ex steps up beside Xisuma, and the two gaze over Eremita. They watch as Keralis and Zedaph round up sheep for their midday meal, Iskall, Mumbo, and Grian arguing over what kind of redstone they could possibly need on their journey, Wels and False sharpening the blades of their own weapons and others. 

He doesn’t want to admit it, but Eremita looks more alive than it ever was when it was just the two of them. The colors of all different wizards, from all walks of life. All a part of this guild that Xisuma has found. All this, that Ex was afraid of. “You’ve done a good job building yourself a home. Finding yourself a family. Guess you didn’t really need me.” 

Xisuma turns, and removes his mask. For the first time in years, Ex can see his brother's face. They can both see the scars they left on each other. On their skin and in their hearts. Xisuma’s fingers run along the scratched out marking in the metal. Wishing he could take that fit of anger back and fix it. “I didn’t do this without you, though. When I wasn’t sure what to do, it was always your annoying voice that guided me to the right decision.” 

“We have the same voice.” Ex points out. 

“Exactly. No matter what, no matter what I did, you were still with me, a part of me. But when I didn't know what to do, I thought about what you would choose. And it always led me in the right direction. Even though you weren’t here, I still needed you. I still needed my brother.” 

To hear that word come from Xisuma’s mouth, to hear him call Ex that- brother. All these years, all he ever wanted was his brother back. To have a family again. Ex can feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, but he doesn’t want his brother to see him crying over such a simple thing. “I think it’ll be nice to have a family again. It...it feels good to be home.”

[fallin-4-ya]

The Follies and Vices of You

cedric diggory x reader- part iv of series 

based off the novel and film ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen

summary: Being the beloved sister of the incredibly wealthy Mr. Potter, you felt no need to rush into marriage. But one day, when you come to meet a new acquaintance, the proud Mr. Diggory, your views of love and follies change.

warnings: a bit of angst & tension! (gif is not mine, credit to owner!)

part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v

‘Maybe it’s that I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others, or their offenses against me. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.’ -Jane Austen 

The month of January passed dreadfully slow, as you waited for something interesting to happen. As the snow fell softly onto the ground, thoughts wondered through your head rapidly, most of them involving Mr. Diggory. In fact, he occupied your mind most days. How dreadfully awkward that poor man is, you pondered, and yet how confident. His character never made sense to you, as awfully as he appeared on the outside, you could tell there was much beneath his many layers. But your thoughts were soon interrupted by a knock on the door, it was the post.

‘From Miss Ginerva, Miss Y/N.’ You smiled and nodded thankfully. Excited, you ripped the letter open and the inside read,

My Dearest Miss Y/N, I hope my letter find you very well. How dreadful these past few days have been, for all of this snow has made me think of nothing besides summer time. I was invited to stay at my brother Bill’s until the end February; Miss Hermione Granger will be attending alongside me, to encourage sisterly bonding. I am sorry to hear that Mr. Malfoy has resided back to his home up north, but I do hope that he continues to write you such pretty verses. I shall be home before the flowers bloom. Be well.

Much love, Ginerva

You sighed thinking of how even more boring the next few months would be without the company of a most dear friend. 

Now that Mr. Malfoy was sent back home, the house was quieter than ever. Between Harry managing the estate, Sirius writing business proposals and Mr. Lupin locked up in the library; you felt most unentertained and gittery. Letters began being sent to you the day after he left, expressing a fondness for you, which kept your boredom to a minimum. You thought long about the letters exchanged between you and Mr. Malfoy; Ginny was certainly right in saying the verses were beautiful. She also urged you that there would soon be a proposal on the line if he kept with the letters, though you secretly hoped it wouldn't be anytime soon.

The next evening, to much of your excitement, you were joined by Mr. Fred and George Weasley for dinner, who were in the company of nobody other than Mr. Diggory. Reaching a hand out for each of the Weasley men, they took it graciously planting a kiss upon it. Extending out to Mr. Diggory as well, he ignored your gesture and simply bowed in your direction. After the questionable gesture from the latter of the men, you lead them to the dining room, where the rest of your family awaited.

The evening was going splendidly, much laughter and wide smiles reigned. That was, until a letter arrived addressed to you from Mr. Malfoy. You excused yourself from the table, to retire to the parlor to read it.

Blushing profusely and smiling at the beautiful verses addressed to you, unaware of the floorboards that creaked viciously behind; you sat on the armchair nearest the window of the parlor. You heard a throat clear at the doorway and shot your head up.

 ‘Mr. Diggory! I am so sorry, I mustn’t have heard of your following.’ Humming to yourself, you gazed out the window, ‘I do love this time of the year, Mr. Diggory. The snow is nothing short of lovely.’

‘Yes, Miss Potter, I do agree that the snow is very beautiful but I must interject and beckon you about some-‘

‘He’s thought to propose, you know. Mr. Malfoy that is. Quite strange, isn’t it; how young girls go to young women with only a proposal.’ You unknowingly interrupted in your dream state.

‘Miss Potter, I truly cannot help but to interject; however, there is a matter of urgency I’d like to discuss.’ Mr. Diggory huffed. Being pulled out of your trance, patience grew thin, you turned your head and snapped, ‘What is it, Mr. Diggory, that you feel so inclined to interrupt me for?’

‘Its addressing Mr. Malfoy. You see I am afraid I must interject on a most sensitive discussion topic.’

‘If you have anything negative to say about Mr. Malfoy, I must urge you that I'm the last person who would be inclined to hear it! And if you have some here to ruin my evening, I am afraid I won’t allow it.’ 

With that you grabbed your coat and trekked out into the falling snow. Footsteps not far behind you, you sped up; unwilling, or rather unwanting of hearing what anybody had to say. The crunching of snow only following you farther, as you followed the angelic pathway to the stone pavilion in the graden. You threw your back against the wall, sighing out deeply. Without a moment of peace Mr. Diggory entered your presence.

‘You cannot marry him’

You were taken aback by his sudden bluntness. Exasperated by his cultivated occurrence of strange actions you cocked your head at him.

‘May I ask you why, Mr. Diggory?’

‘The Malfoy family is least cordial, completely unattached and deranged from society. They are completely unsuitable for a family such as yours.’

‘A family such as mine?! Have you come here to separate an engagement or to insult my family, Mr. Diggory? Or rather, does your sudden interest in my affairs have anything to do with your dislike towards Mr. Malfoy; because believe me, Mr. Diggory, I know well of your disputes with the poor gentleman and will not stop an engagement from happening due to your pride and arrogance.’

‘No, Miss Potter! You know perfectly well that I find your family most respectable. I just find their family uncommony stiff for your reckless behavior.’

‘Reckless behavior! How dare you insult not only my upkeeping but a personality of another. Have you forgotten the follies and vices of you, Mr. Diggory? For who are you to judge another?’

‘Miss Y/N, has it ever occurred to you that you may be too harsh on me or perhaps my light on you may have been caused by the misjudgment of one’s character? I beg of you to enlighten me on why you find me the most disagreeable man.’

‘Well then, I beg you, Mr. Diggory, why you wish to separate a young couple who have grown quite fond of each other?’

‘Because I love you.’

There was a lull and Mr. Diggory halted. ‘I love you most ardently and I could not have you go another day more without you knowing of the likeness I have for you.’

You stood in silence, snow falling ever so godly on you both, speechless. Words clouded your mind, and you wanted to scream, and cry, and love, and erupt all at the same time. But rather than doing any of them, you looked back on him with a haze in your eyes.

‘I would not marry you if you were the last man in the world.’ You said walking away, allowing a tear slip silently from your face.

The next day there was a knock on your bedroom door early in the morning. Mr. Diggory walked in humbled and shy, ‘Miss Y/N, I’ve come to leave this for you. I hope you do me the honor to read it. Thank you much for your time.’

You had not even reached his gaze, for he spoke for too quickly and you were far too angry. Staring at the enveloped with a tear stained face for nearly an hour, you decided to open it.

Dear Miss Potter,

I hope my letter finds you in good health. I do not wish to impose on you again what I have said last night; for I am writing to you today not to remind you of said words, but rather converse upon the accusations you have brought upon me. I urge you that everything in this letter is the truth and have many to testify upon it.

Mr. Draco Malfoy and I had been connected since infancy, for his father, Lucius, and mine worked exceptionally close together. However, as Mr. Malfoy grew he became reckless; he gambled a large portion of his father’s money away and took no responsibilities seriously. Soon thereafter, his father wrote him out of his will, leaving nothing to his son. Mr. Malfoy became desperate for an inheritance; my father later offered him a job which he begrudgingly took. However, not more than seven months of work, he confessed a most passionate love to my sister. It did not take long for us to realize that he was only after her fortune for she was to inherit seven thousand pound a year. She was thirteen at the time and utterly heartbroken.

When my sister had gotten sick mere months later, my mother and I moved to London alongside her to get the best medical help. Unable to access our money without my father present, Mr. Lucius graciously lent us the sum of the bills. Unfortunately, my sister passed with just two months of treatment; she was truly a remarkable young woman. After the mourning, we paid what was due back to the Malfoy family; but for Mr. Draco Malfoy it was not enough. He hounded me for more money; knowing his dispositions I had given him the sum of his ask in hopes that he would become something of himself. He gambled the money away in two weeks. After that, I refused to give him anymore money, cutting him off for good.

Miss Y/N, I am terribly sorry to force the burden of the truth onto you, but I just felt that you ought to know. Please do keep the affairs containing my sister private, as I believe it be a disgrace to her memory to attach her name to one like his. Thank you for the time we have shared.

Yours, Mr. Cedric Diggory

(author’s note: oh my goodness! end of part 4!!! ending on a bit of a cliff hanger... i can't wait for you all to read the final chapter, which will be out soon! as always, let me know if you’d like to be part of this tag list! thank you as always for reading!)

tag list: @freddieweasleyswife @truly-insatiable @annasdani @mullthingsoverinthehotwater

[ugh-againwiththenames]

A Musical Social Experiment...Destiel.

Alright, so I thought to myself, while playing along with @thenightwemetnatural​‘s Destiel song picks, that despite my musical tastes, and them tending typically (although not exclusively) towards the Metal genres, that EVERY song can in some way, be paralleled to Destiel. This is such a ridiculous experiment, and I apologize, but I’m at the cottage, and it’s fucking pouring with rain, so let’s play…

Here are the rules: take your Music library and throw it on Shuffle – every song that comes on for an hour(ish), connect it to Destiel...(below the cut for my results).

You can access the playlist here (if you have any interest in listening along!). I am not going to necessarily describe every possible connection - I think that a lot of them are SUPER obvious...like *eyes rolling out of my head* obvious...

In the End – Black Veil Brides – Well we’re off to a hell of a start, as this song from start to finish screams Destiel and sacrifice. In the end As my soul's laid to rest What is left of my body Or am I just a shell? And I have fought And with flesh and blood I commanded an army Through it all I have given my heart for a moment of glory Who will remember this last goodbye 'Cause it's the end and I'm not afraid I'm not afraid to die A Modern Way - The Exies – only on song 2, and it’s once again, really hard to cut out any of this song, as the repeating “I’m bound by my insecurities” SCREAMS Dean at me.

I’m Bound by my insecurities

Open your eyes and Throw your arms around me I need the right not to fight To breathe

Swallow the lies I'm the one to blame Having no voice left to choose Am i so blind, feeling justified When i'm alone and confused

Brother – NEEDTOBREATHE – I have to laugh…as I added this after watching Jensen sing this at a Con (for J*red), and no lie, I’m in LOVE with it, but it’s somehow now determinably connected to the brothers for me but I can/WILL draw the lines here…EASY.

Everybody needs someone beside em’ shining like a lighthouse from the sea Face down in the desert now there’s a cage locked around my heart I found a way to drop the keys where my failures were Now my hands can’t reach that far I ain’t made for a rivalry I could never take the world alone I know that in my weakness I am strong, but It’s your love that brings me home Summoners Rift – Dangerkids – Um. Well. The first line of this song just made me laugh out loud.

There's no room for martyrs in a dying scene Well I'm not quite dead I'm something in between

And if I had another chance I would tell you

I guess I'm not afraid of what comes after We are the only ones We stand alone in the dark

Question everything you blindly follow Truth's a bitter pill, it's hard to swallow You think you're winning but your time is borrowed We are the only ones We stand alone in the dark

Royal Beggars - Architects - I mean…the repetition of my sentiments is going to get a bit silly…so i will not. read on...

All hope is dead, but we're coping

Somebody save our souls

Like a bird in a cage, trying to fly away Is this the price that we have to pay? Overflowing with rage, yet we still obey 'Cause we're asleep in a hurricane

We sit on a throne, waiting for God to bend the knee But we're nothing more than royal beggars

Edge of your Bed - Thousand Below - “why’d you have to go and keep calling out my name” Calling out my name” pure purgatory “where’s the ANGEL” “I prayed to you Cas, Every night” The rest of the next verse is also poignant, very Dean again “where I can only feel peace when the wave hits”, “and I’ve become what I thought was wrong, I love the feeling when it feels too strong”.  

Why'd you have to go and keep calling out my name? Calling out my name

I found sorrow at the edge of your bed

Is it now a bad habit? Where I can only feel peace when the wave hits And I've become what I thought was wrong I love the feeling when it feels too strong

Animals – Siamese - “It takes a killer that thinks he’s a saint, it takes believing to be this insane” – well. yes. ok. 

Shattered not broken We stand our feet Houses rebuild on These bloody streets I fill my lungs into this beat With closed eyes we're hoping for remedy

It takes a killer That thinks he's a saint It takes believing To be this insane

Spineless Crow - Hands Like Houses

We were young together but I've grown ancient Cracked and weathered and filled with regret Waiting to sink, rushing to sink in my sleep

The realization sinks in through the skin Like a disease, a blight inside of me Missing your touch, your weight on my fingers

My Underworld - Tonight Alive

Now we sail into deep blue storm clouds Overhead now, strangely I feel at peace as I dive into My underworld, world I dive into my underworld, world Down in these depths I'm adding up the numbers Of all I've suffered in past lives, tied down in the darkness Finally I begin to learn what I've returned tonight Time has come to begin again, leave something else behind

Ever After - Marianas Trench - All this talk of being someone’s disaster – Welp! Hello!

Don't you move Can't you stay where you are, just for now I could be your perfect disaster You could be my ever after

Apologies, I'm not myself but I can guarantee That when I get back, you won't believe That you knew me well Don't want to think about it

I'm fuckin' tired of getting sick about it Now stand back up and be a man about it And fight for something, fight for something, fight for something Nobody told ya this is gonna fold ya We go marching in like toy soldiers To have and hold ya over sold ya They’re marching like toy soldiers I'll be your disaster, ever after So fire away Goodbye

Room 138 - Asking Alexandria - While this song is clearly actually about an overdose of some kind, it’s parallels shockingly well to the post confession scene.   So these are the walls that have to hold this moment Somebody hear me, someone open up the door Get me up off of this floor and stop the shaking, the shaking Through the haze I saw a face A second chance, another life to live How did you forgive me? Held my head against your chest Told me everything's alright, don't be afraid Close your eyes and rest

Witness – Daughtry

Does it feel like you're just wasting time Here without a reason or a rhyme The answer you've been looking for Is standing right before your weary eyes And if the weight of the world is on you now But you know you can turn it all around again How Many Walls - Rise Against  - Guys, seriously, I’m not even going there...How many years have we wasted….how many walls can you put up? How many guns til you feel safe? This is a song about war – this is Rise Against, this is purely political and somehow can STILL be pulled together with Destiel.

 How many walls can you put up?

How many guns 'til you feel safe? How many times can we watch this story Over and over and over again? And how many years have we wasted Counting the lies that we've been fed? For something to change we have waited Over and over and over again Pray – Picturesque - Nope. Don’t even need a description here. Once again this is FAR TOO OBVIOUS!

I should pray a little more and think a little less The devils in my head and he won't let me rest Everyday just like the last since you up and left I should pray a little more, I shouldn't pray for death I Knew You Were Trouble – We Came as Romans (Swift Cover) - SwiftNatural is a thing for a reason… 

It's like a kaleidoscope of memories. It just all comes back. But he never does. I knew his world moved too fast and burned too bright. But I just thought, how can the devil be pulling you toward someone who looks so much like an angel

I think that the worst part of it all wasn't losing him. It was losing me. Once upon a time, a few mistakes ago I was in your sights, you got me alone You found me

I knew you were trouble when you walked in (you were right there, you were right there) So shame on me now Flew me to places I'd never been Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground Texas Is Forever - Pierce the Veil ��� lack of communication anyone? I don’t know, do we know anyone like that? If anything should happen to me I want you to know, I’ve loved you since ever…

Here we are If anything should happen to me I want you to know I've loved you since ever since then Don't dance around me I know what it means No communication, cannot be received But I'm such a sucker for the rain, yeah Oh, here we are Butterfly - Wearing Scars – the Butterfly/Angel parallel alone…go with it.

Seems we're alone We're fixated Just waiting for something As time goes by And when we're way up high We'll look back down with different eyes Let's take our time Awake this life So spread your wings And take my hand Tonight will be the end

With Grace - The Weight of Atlas

This place looks like hell to me I cast myself into the sea Picked up my conscience and left my disease I don't know, I don't know if I can make it through this storm Keep your eyes shut it will be okay. Will we make it out alive? Will we make it out alive. When all you have is hope I will be your anchor I know that I can let you down But I swear I'll pick up the pieces. And be reborn again I Always Wanted to Leave - The Plot In You

I guess it's a shame I'm so damn destructive And you're so reluctant to mean what you say The way you act so abused The things you confuse You know I always wanted to leave "Hello... You can sing, I'm here And I love you more than anyone or anything With all my heart."

Unsteady - X Ambassadors – just a stay parallel. Don’t leave, don’t let go. If you love me. Don’t let go. #I haz the sads.

Hold on to me 'Cause I'm a little unsteady If you love me Don't let go Bury Me Alive - Normandie – pick a line – ANY LINE!!! 

I guess I'm not going to heaven now I got caught in the chase Now I'm falling from grace But I never stood a chance Could've given me a sign I'd be giving you blind obedience Mantra – Bring Me The Horizon Before the truth will set you free, it will piss you off Before you find a place to be, you're gonna lose the plot Too late to tell you now, one ear and right out the other one 'Cause all you ever do is chant the same old mantra Could I have your attention, please? It's time to tap into your tragedy Think you could use a new abuser Close your eyes and listen carefully Imagine you're stood on a beach Water gently lapping at your feet And now you're sinking, what were you thinking? That's all the time we have this week

Oh Lord - In This Moment – cutting any of this out was actually hard. Cas, my love, are you there?

Oh Lord won't you save me Save me from my soul Oh Lord won't you forgive me For I have lost control Oh Lord won't you tell me Am I the righteous or the damned? Oh Lord won't you please hear me Do I obey or do I command? Oh Lord please forgive me For what I'm about to do Oh Lord won't you believe me I'll burn in hell for you Oh Lord won't you teach me Teach me how to see Oh Lord tell me you love me Am I Lillith or am I Eve?

Bleeding is a Luxury - Atreyu

I’ve talked the talk, I've walked the walk, It's taken ten fucking years, For them to see I don't need their approval. I've paid the piper, I've stayed my course, Lived chomping at the bit. With only blood, sweat, and tears to adhere to- Take it for granted, Forsake the costs, Wear a big, shit-eating grin (with only blood, sweat, and tears to adhere to) Now bear the burden to chase your fate Grind your teeth 'til it fucking hurts So they can see I don't need their approval. Seize the day, Take your beatings, Lead the way, Or decay as you fall down... You fall down.

Would you Still be There - Of Mice & Men – wow, this song in full. All of it. I can’t.

If I could find the words, if I could shake the world, If I could turn back time would you still be there? I can't stop thinking about the way I left you sinking with no escape. Now there's no lifeline, no way to save. But maybe next time I won't throw it all away. Dislocated, I lie awake Suffocating in my mistakes. I lost my halo when I fell from grace, But maybe next time I won't throw it all away. I ask myself everyday... If I could find the words, if I could shake the world, If I could turn back time would you still be there? If I could find the words to say, If I could shake the world to break you down, Then would you still be there?

The Broken - 3 Doors Down 

This is the call to the broken, the broken Take it from me. They don't care if you're lonely. As you can see, They don't care if you're scared. Your heart Is the only friend you have in this whole world. Don't start, Think you can do this yourself. I know what you're thinking. You say you're tired of keeping score, keeping score. Trust me, You're not the only one going through this. You see, I've been through this before, this before.

Wow, I Hate This Song - The Used – this one took a little imagination – hardest one so far – because it really is just about hating a song! So we’re HC’ing the Zepp track that reminds Dean most of Cas, post Empty.

Every time I hear the key I see you in the melody It never was a part of me Heart feels like it's being stabbed Kills me emotionally Dirty Little Secret - Bullet For My Valentine – let’s take this back to – take your pick…Leviathan!Cas, Godstiel, Casifer, any of the times that Cas did the wrong thing for the right reasons…and did not tell his boy. 

There once was a time Where everything was just so perfect Now everything has changed And you've become a total stranger I've seen another side to you I never even knew existed Dirty little secrets, dirty little secrets Giving in to your primal instincts There once was a time When anything I do is for you But everything has changed And I've become a lonely prisoner I'd kill, even die for you You never even tried resisting

Kill Plan - Parabelle

I'm sitting stunned just like a lesson I never learned Made of emotions and mistakes And what you say Leaves me lost and in the way And that's the place you stay Remember silence Now we're painted into corners So we can watch the world get sold out Hold me closer don't let the sun in Hold me closer don't let the sun in Cuz the setting sun feels like a cage Don't let me defend the kill plan

Roman Sky – Avenged Sevenfold – This song only has a few lyrics, but we can definitely make them work.

As the embers rose through the Roman Sky Tell me, were you calm when they took your life? Just before you go, tell us how the heavens flow Weightless evermore, as you walk beyond that door Shine forever true To Those Left Behind – blessthefall – these boys might be my favourite band ever, but these are ANGRY lyrics – these are about betrayal.  This is a relationship gone wrong. I feel these best work with the divorce arc, the Angry Dean that we see, or Dean’s mood after any of the “Cas fucked up again” moments. You found me at my worst When I was far too weak to grow In spite of all my fears And how I may have lost my way Only now I know the truth

Awake and coming clean

If you can't sleep It's your conscience That's eating away At the mess you made So let's end this Sew this last stitch Lift this weight off my chest I'll put you to rest The past should stay dead

How did we find ourselves here? Haunted by our own design With everything that's come to pass Makes it harder to confine

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Once Upon a December

Chapter 1: A Song Someone Sings

A/N: I can’t believe that there are people that are actually interested in this... I hope it’s not a complete hot garbage. I had to change some aspects to fit all characters and their personalities but I hope you guys like it!

Prologue // chapter 2

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“Are you fucking shitting me?”

The slap came only a few seconds later, stinging her left cheek and undoubtedly leaving a reddish mark. Shit shit shit.

Clarisse’s rule number one: no fucking swearing, especially at her.

It was one of the rules that mostly got Lin in trouble, causing the orphanage’s master to leave a series of bruises throughout her body during the ten years she lived in that hellhole. Minor swearings usually earned her slaps or pinches, and if she continued to say them afterwards, Lin would probably receive a full beating. It was absolutely miserable.

Until the year before, however, she wouldn’t be receiving those slaps alone. Until a year before, if Lin was swearing from the top of her lungs, Lysandra was definitely there with her, saying things just as filthy. Sometimes they would get caught, but sometimes not even Clarisse could find them when they sneaked off the orphanage to steal alcohol from the market and then went to a rooftop to drink their asses off. 

Lysandra. Remembering her name, her existence was the only thing stopping Lin from finally lashing out against the orphanage’s master. She needed help and information that only Clarisse or Arobynn would possess, and she was smart enough to know that Clarisse would always be the better alternative.

Even if being pleasant to the woman who made her life hell for ten years made her blood boil.

“Pardon me, Clarisse. I wasn’t swearing at you, it’s just that you caught me by surprise.” It was an understatement. What Clarisse had said completely shattered her plans and hopes. Her throat tightened and her vision started to unfocus. Shit shit shit. “Could you repeat it? Please.”

“I could not care less why you did so.” She spat out, and one of the kids that was coming down the stairs took one glance at the two women standing by the door, at Clarisse’s tone and wisely went back up. “You are finally eighteen, you are not the orphanage’s problem anymore. Just as Lysandra has not been our problem for almost a year now. I will repeat what I have already said: Lysandra was taken to Inish a year ago, and as we do not keep tabs on the adopted children, we do not know if she is still there.”

Lin had to hold her snort and sarcastic remark. Adopted. Clarisse said adopted as if Lysandra had found a beautiful family to sit by the fire during Yulemas and drink hot cocoa, but both women knew for a fact that what had happened to Lysandra had been more of a buying than an adoption. Her blood only boiled hotter, her hand itching to hit the woman across the face.

“And what I said about the railroads and regular roads is true. Adarlan has cut off relations with Fenharrow and Melisande as a political strategy or something like that, I honestly do not care. They will most likely be opened again in a few weeks or months, but currently you are incapable of traveling straight from Rifthold to Inish. Crossing the border on your own is suicide and you will get caught, girl, so do not do anything stupid.” As Clarisse pronounced the last words, she opened the door and the fresh summer air swept in, causing Lin’s golden braid to whip around a bit. “This is my last warning and piece of advice. Now leave, you are not a child here anymore, Lin Sirota.”

Lin clenched her jaw, grabbing her little sack of belongings and walking right out of the door. She raised her chin as she passed Clarisse, and kept it raised as she crossed the orphanage’s iron gates, and kept it raised as she did not look back at the place that had treated her like shit for the entirety of her teenage years. But even as she felt the relief of finally leaving that place, of not being chained to Clarisse and Arobynn anymore, she could not help but feel the weight of her new life crushing her.

She was homeless. Poor, having only the money that should supposedly be used to buy one ticket to Inish. She had no connections, no family and nowhere to go.

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

She went to the docks that same day. She went to the taverns in which she knew the riders would be. She went to the railroad offices. All answers had been the same: we do not want to risk Adarlan’s wrath by crossing the border to Fenharrow or Melisande, even for the money you are offering or because of your pretty face. In all three places, she put an extra effort into masquerading her accent. It was widely known that immigrants were not welcomed in Adarlan, especially in its capital. In all three places she put on smiles and adjusted her braids, hoping to look just like an innocent girl who needed a ride. Nothing worked.

Lin was tempted to start crying when she sat down in a bench just outside the railroad office. She used to do that a lot once she arrived in the orphanage. Lin had been eight, and terrified of her own shadow. She had cried when she realized that she could not remember anything from her past, all memories just a thick black canvas in her mind. She only knew she was from Terrasen due to her extremely heavy accent, which also pointed to the fact that she must have grown up in the northern part of the kingdom. It wasn’t unusual for kids of Terrasen to end up in orphanages after the kingdom was seized during a winter night. The memory loss, however, had been a rarity. The only moments that Lin got close to remembering anything was during her nightmares, but once she woke up all the information that the bad dreams contained just turned into ash. It was like being trapped into an iron box inside your own mind. Sometimes Lin would curse the new Terrasen’s conqueror, as if the new queen herself had put her in that coffin. Lin did not even know her real name, had just been given a commoners name and that had been that.

She could feel the thick tears swelling in her eyes, but she refused to let them drop. She hadn’t cried in a long while, and it would not help her right then. She needed to think and be smart. She needed a new plan, a new route and a way to get to Lysandra and save her the same way her friend had saved Lin ten years ago when she was drowning in fear and despair.

That had been two weeks ago.

Lin was now seated at the rooftop of a shabby old house by the central square in Orynth, taking a swig of cheap vodka. She had decided that since she could not go straight from Adarlan to Melisande, she would need to take the long way. Terrasen’s relations with Adarlan were stable enough that the borders hadn’t been closed, so instead of buying a ticket to Inish, she bough one to Orynth. The city had a series of extensive railroads, a particular one that would take you through the Wastes on the west side of the continent and then straight into Melisande. That’s the train she would need to catch once she gathered the absurd amount of money she would need to buy the ticket and food for the next weeks unless she wanted to starve.

She had gotten two copper coins today and a bottle of Terrasenian vodka, all stolen. She had to admit, it was a new low point even for her.

She watched the people come and go, all of them wearing clothes as shabby as the house she was on top of. Orynth, the City of Learning, had once been booming with life, a beacon to all of those who wished a better life. Its people lived in peace and harmony, and even the slums were better than some Adarlanian cities. Once the kingdom was conquered, however, everything had changed. The new queen had raised taxes so much that even most of the city’s elite became poor, and most of the population had to give up everything they had to not suffer under the queen’s wrath. Access to libraries and theaters was limited only for the new nobility and officials, very few merchants also allowed. There were curfews and censorship, laws prohibiting people from even speaking the name of the old rulers. A city that was once beautiful was now a ghost town, much like the rest of the kingdom.

Not that Lin would be able to know the difference between now and then. She did not remember ever being here, but she had read in books. Part of her wanted to wander around, maybe try to awake old memories in case she did indeed come from Orynth, but she decided against it. It must be an unimaginable pain to remember a beautiful past just to realize it had been ripped away from you.

A silver flash caught her eye. She looked up at one of the cathedral towers at the other side of the central square, narrowing her eyes at one of the windows where she had seen the movement. It was a darker shade of silver, so it couldn’t have been lightning or even a trick of light. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt an incessant pulse. She stared at the window for a few more minutes before shaking her head and rubbing her eyes. She was going insane. Running low on food and sleep and then getting drunk, she was probably on the edge of actual insanity and now her mind was playing tricks at her. Sighing, Lin slowly eased from the rooftop and into the colorless streets. She would need a place to stay tonight, especially if the summer rains in Orynth were as strong as people said they were.

Lin wandered around a bit, her eyes always involuntarily going back to the cathedral. She mindlessly walked all the way to the old castle. It seemed like it was once beautiful, all built from marble and quartz, the towers so high that it seemed that you could touch the clouds from there. But once the new queen decided to build her new castle with the money she tore from the people, this castle had been left alone, vacant. It looked more like a mausoleum than anything.

It could have been a crypt if not for the whimpers she heard coming from one of the sealed doors. Against her best judgment, Lin walked closer and closer to the castle, the pulse in the back of her head as strong as it had been when she looked at the cathedral. She should go back, find some alley to spend the night. She was currently drunk, alone and unarmed. She was a fucking walking target and she should know better. Maybe the whimpers weren’t even true, just another sign of her madness just like the silver flash.

Sighing, she stopped in front of the wood panel covering one of the doors. From up close, it looked more like a window that had probably been shattered and then covered with wood.

Lin was about to go back, snorting at herself when the wood panel moved and another whimper sounded. Maybe she was just imagining things again.

Although you are probably a godsdamned idiot, you are not that crazy yet.

Setting the bottle down, she approached the panel until she could glance around it. It was thicker than she imagined, and when she bent down to try to look inside the castle, something moved, brushing her fingers. Lin yelped and fell right on her ass, staring wide eyed at the dirty golden tail waggling. Only the tail was on the outside, as if the animal had been entering the castle the moment the wood panel closed again. She looked around, realizing that there were new screws and a hammer on the floor. Someone had purposefully let the little animal stuck. Had personally closed the wood panel again. Her blood was boiling and she was half tempted to hunt that person down and pin them to a wall with those same screws.

Instead, she grabbed the hammer and carefully opened the wood panel. Lin hoped there weren’t any screws directly into the animal’s— most likely a dog— tail. After what seemed an eternity, the lower part of the panel gave away and the dog sprinted forward, going deeper into the castle.

“Fuck. Wait! Hey puppy, come here. Let me check your tail to see if you’re hurt.” She called after the pup, grabbing the vodka bottle from the floor and half entering the castle in all fours. “Hey, come here!”

She groaned and entered a little bit more.

You are broke, drunk, most likely crazy and in the other side of the continent from your destination. What’s a little breaking and entering into an abandoned castle?

Grunting, Lin fully crawled into the castle.

If it looked like a mausoleum from the outside, it was worse on the inside. It wasn’t only the appearance, but the feeling. Everyone knew what had happened ten years ago, and it seemed as if death and despair decided to make this their home. Lin took a step forward, her boots sounding way too loud in the empty entrance. Tables had been turned, vases had been broken and sofas had been ripped apart. Trash littered the floors, and the only source of light was whatever could enter through the holes in the wood panels covering the windows and doors. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes and, despite the terrible condition of the castle, something eased in her chest.

Lin’s eyes snapped open when she heard the dog’s steps from another room in the palace. She started jogging after it, whistling in the hope that the dog would come in her direction. It led her up and down stairs, through corridors. The palace was a maze, and she navigated it as if she knew the way like she knew the palm of her hand.

She finally caught up with the dog when they entered a ballroom. The destruction in this room had been worse than in any other, and even as Lin bent down to pick up the puppy, her eyes could not leave the dance floor, the destroyed thrones, the blood stains in the walls and floor. No one had bothered to clean up, it seemed.

The pulse in the back of her mind became almost unbearable for a few seconds, until it was transformed into a lullaby that she knew in her heart she had heard before, even if she could not recall where. Her eyes became blurry, colors that were not there a minute ago appearing. It was like watching from inside a glass box splashed with oil paint. The colors were vivid, moving around in the rhythm of the lullaby that was so loud in her mind now that there could have been an orchestra by her side. The oil paint figures were dancing, she realized with awe. They were misty figures sweeping around a destroyed ballroom floor according to a song long forgotten by her.

It was like a real party, one that had happened so long ago that blurry memories were everything she could invoke when thinking of it, but the feeling of being home, the beating of her heart along with the music were reborn that moment.

She took a step forward, as if in a daze. As if she could go to the dance floor and sweep around with her eyes closed to the destruction and her mind providing the music. As if she could join those fake memories, go to a better place where she did not know pain of hunger or despair.

She might have done just that, if she hadn’t caught the movement of three figures from the left side of her eye. Immediately the colors disappeared, the lullaby becoming an incessant pulse once more. Her heart rate picked up, and she held the dog closer to her.

Lin turned to the three figures, all of them unbelievably tall, muscular and with their faces hidden by cloaks and shadows. She took a fighting stance, her eyes narrowing and cocking her head. She could swear one of them smiled.

“So what do we have here?” A male voice straight from Hellas’s realm spoke.

From behind her.

There are more.

Fucking stupid.

Shit shit shit.

I’m going to die.

It was all Lin could think as she hardened her grip on the cheap vodka bottle and swinged back, hitting the male behind her straight across the face. He and his companions-- the three she had first seen and other two flanking his side-- were shocked enough by her reaction that they froze. 

Although her stupidity was obviously arguable, she certainly did not have a death wish, so instead of fighting her way out, Lin took their seconds of hesitation and used to her advantage.

She ran as if Hellas was trying to fucking murder her.

It took only seconds for them to recompose themselves before they started running after her. Lin tightened her grip on the dog who was thankfully quiet and obedient. If she got to the wood panel she came from, she could crawl out and they would still be inside. They were too big to follow her through that hole, even though she had the feeling that they could easily knock the wood panel down if they wished.

Please, Lin pleaded to Mala for the first time since she could remember, give me protection. Please, please, please.

The last please sounded inside her mind when she felt a hand around her elbow. She was instantly against a man’s chest, and then before she could blink she felt the cold floor against her back. All the air whooshed out of her, her grip on the bottle and dog faltering. The little pup got up and started growling in the direction of the five men now watching Lin, the one that had stopped her still behind her. 

They were going to kill her, and then probably the dog.

At least she could take some comfort in knowing that it couldn’t get worse.

But then a deep male voice chuckled from the shadows behind her.

Tags:

@morganofthewildfire​ @alyx801​ @ladywitchling​ @westofmoon​ @rolltide7​

[siswritesyanderes]

ooh! now that you've begun in dabbling in some s p i c i e r stuff (love it!!!) what would you think about Tom finding a familiar soul in the orphanage, if you want to make it real spicy, sister perhaps (continuing the habit of inbreeding in the family without conditioning; nice!) and him deciding that it would be only right, even though his sister is not a slytherin, to make her rule by his side- j-just to keep him in line, and continue the great line of slytherin! love your work :)))

Okay. Let’s do this. Ooh boy.

(N S F W) (TW: non-con) (TW: incest)

She was like him. She was, in fact, the only one like him in the entire world. It had seemed so, at least, when they were children.

She didn’t have his harsh temperament, or his impatience, but she had the same unsettlingly intelligent gaze and, most importantly, she could do the same sorts of things that he could. She made things move (most usually, books to her hand, especially if one of the other orphans had tried to take said book from her), she had made her hair grow back when a bully had cut it off (but not before Tom punished the other child for the mistake), and she could talk to snakes.

Even apart from her powers, they were very alike. They were quiet, and didn’t socialize much, and had a tendency to scowl. They spent all of their time together, and so that had developed rather identical mannerisms and turns of phrase.

It was tact that made her different; for some reason he could not hope to understand, his twin sister thought it worth placating the matrons and their fellow orphans. (Certainly, her social skills persuaded the caretakers to see his side of things more often than they would if he spoke to them, but still he found such diplomacy monotonous.) She spoke sparingly to the snakes, and only when he was already speaking to them, on the grounds that it was “rude” to do things that they knew made the others uncomfortable. She did not snap at anyone, or use her power to make them hurt; she ignored people who annoyed her and allowed Tom to handle people who provoked her.

“I’m glad for your temper sometimes,” she mused once when Tom returned, cool-faced, from scaring off a boy who had thrown a frog at her. “I don’t think you should always make a habit of it, though.”

“Habits are for people with dull minds,” he replied, returning to the book he had been reading.

When Professor Dumbledore came to tell them that they were magic and would be going to a place called Hogwarts, she let her brother do all of the talking; all of the asking and bragging (and, when the man set their wardrobe on fire, protesting). In the meantime, she observed from the social cues that Tom and the professor were developing a clear mutual dislike (as subtle as they both were about it) and considered the ways in which she could serve as damage control; it wouldn’t do for her brother to antagonize someone with power over them, as he had done with the matrons here.

The only time she spoke up was after Dumbledore gave them their allowance for school supplies, at which point she asked, “Are Galleons pure gold, sir?”

“Yes, Miss Riddle, they are,” the man answered.

“How many pounds to a Galleon?”

The professor told her.

She nodded, privately supposing that they could exploit the exchange rate of gold to pounds and pounds to Galleons and increase their money seemingly forever. She would tell Tom about it tomorrow.

That night, as Tom lay in bed with the day’s revelations running through him and his sister likewise resting on her side of the room, he whispered into the dark about how they would be running this new wizarding world before they were done. She didn’t answer, so he couldn’t be sure whether she believed him, but it didn’t matter; it was true. He would excel, because it was in his nature, and she would be with him because she was supposed to be.

At Hogwarts, they were sorted into Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Tom detested the separation, detested that they wouldn’t be sleeping in the same room, and he detested it more in the following weeks and months, as she came to make friends in her House. He had earned his housemates’ respect, through his own power and intelligence and aided on by the priciness of his possessions (thanks to his sister’s savvy Galleon exchanges), but it always soured his mood when he saw her laughing at the Ravenclaw table with some Other Person.

She knew him, though, well enough to make a point of giving him the most of her time, including leaving her friends straightaway, even mid-conversation, if he called her to be with him. It was out of respect for her that he allowed her these diversions, instead of scaring them away, but it was imperative that she show him that he took priority.

“You’re quite jealous,” she remarked in third year, while they were walking the grounds together without his followers. He had learned that she did not enjoy being near his followers and would spend longer times with him if they weren’t around. “It’s a sign of insecurity, you know.”

He ignored her attempt at starting a pointless argument. “I didn’t find anything using our father’s surname. I think our middle names must be the clue; ‘Marvolo’ and ‘Merope’ sound just like wizarding names, don’t they?”

“They do,” she agreed. “Thank you for keeping me updated on your search, though I wish you weren’t in Slytherin; almost none of the other Ravenclaws care about blood status. They don’t care if we’re Muggle-borns.”

“We’re not Muggle-borns,” he snapped, and was rewarded for his terseness with silence from her. His followers had come to uncomfortably ignore his heritage (or lack thereof) because he was frightening, cunning, and clever (and because his having grown in an orphanage with no knowledge of his parents allowed them to pretend that his parents could be purebloods), but there were only so few of them, because so many of his peers in Slytherin couldn’t get past his lack of a respectable name. No one provoked him, but he wanted them all to worship him.

And his sister, too.

When he found out that they were Slytherin’s heirs, he was sixteen, sitting at a table in the library by himself, poring over records. He checked over his readings several times before the feeling of vindication came over him.

He didn’t tell his sister about his findings until he had discovered the entrance to their Chamber, a month later; then, he dragged her out of the Great Hall (in the middle of a chess game with the “friend” he detested the most; that boy who she always seemed to be talking to and joking with) and into the girl’s bathroom, breathlessly saying, “Tell it to open.”

Flummoxed, it took her two tries to manage Parseltongue, but soon enough they were sliding down into the underbelly of the school, into their birthright.

As they wandered, with their wands lit, through the stone corridors, Tom felt the most alone with his sister he had in a while; it was like they were in their own world that no one else could access. Sealed away. She couldn’t talk to other friends here, nor had he any followers for her to take exception to. It was just them, and their destiny, and it was glorious.

He felt intoxicated by their aloneness, and wondered if this was how things had felt in the womb.

Their Chamber, their womb, their rebirth as heirs.

She seemed less pleased by the development; she kept murmuring, “I’ve read about this,” either to herself or to him.

“Relax,” he drawled. “This is our Chamber; nothing can happen to us here.”

“The stories say there’s a creature in the Chamber of Secrets, Tom. Some sort of monster.”

“A creature meant to serve the heirs of Slytherin; that’s what we’re looking for.”

“I don’t want to find it.” She turned to go back the way they’d come, but he grabbed her arm.

“Don’t go back. Aren’t you supposed to thank me for keeping you updated?”

She shook her arm from his grip. “Keeping me updated is telling me your findings, not tricking me into a dungeon full of snake skins. I can only think of the sort of monster that would leave these behind.”

“A snake, perhaps?”

“You’re not funny.”

Unexpectedly, her dry response awoke a rage he hadn’t noticed brewing inside himself. “No, that honor is reserved for Wilbur Cadwallader, isn’t it?” 

The memories were rising, unbidden, to the surface, now; all the times he had looked up from his plate because the sound of her laugh was audible to him even in the Great Hall. All the times he had approached her in the Transfiguration Courtyard for no other reason than because watching her converse with Cadwallader and that ditzy redhead friend of hers made him want to chew glass. That one night, fifth year, when she had spent her prefect rounds walking with Cadwallader instead of him.

“Don’t use your envy to deflect. I want no part of-” 

“Envy?” he repeated, very quietly. His sister was smart; she knew the difference between jealousy– the fear of losing what one owns –and envy– the desire for what someone else owns. She was too smart to use them interchangeably, which meant that she had chosen the word “envy” intentionally.

She recognized, also, his danger signs, and it was clear from her expression that she understood his change in tone, yet she carried on, “I want no part of Slytherin’s legacy.”

“I didn’t ask what you wanted a part of,” Tom said, still speaking very quietly. He noticed, suddenly, that he had grown much taller than her, in the past few years. “We are Slytherin’s heirs, and we are fated for greatness. It falls on us to restore the noble house of-”

“I’m a Ravenclaw,” she cut in coolly. “And anyway, I won’t be carrying the name of the family, in case you’ve forgotten; you will. Restore to your heart’s content. I want no part in it.” She tried, again, to walk away, but again he caught her arm, this time not releasing it. 

“You’ll be restoring it with me, because we’re supposed to do it together. We balance each other; we always have. I’m going to rule this world, and you will be at my side if I have to…” Her suddenly sharp look caused him to trail off, as only she could.

She stormed away, and he fumed in place but allowed her to leave because if they continued to anger each other, he would probably hurt her, and he did not want to do that.

They did not speak to each other for a time after that, though he glared at her whenever she was in his line of sight and she made a point not to look his way. In the meantime, he opened the Chamber of Secrets, left messages on the school walls in rooster blood proclaiming the return of the heirs of Slytherin, and killed a mudblood from her house.

It was after this that she stalked up to him in the school library, her eyes fascinatingly red-rimmed and her expression furious. “They are going to close Hogwarts.”

He found it interesting how, even though he had spent so long enraged that she was ignoring him, seeing her so upset still made him want to alleviate her unhappiness. He ignored this feeling, though, and maintained a dry tone as he replied, “Don’t worry; I’ve made arrangements for the culprit to be brought to justice.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve said not to worry about it.” He watched her as she seemed to decide whether or not to leave him now. It was so weird to him that she saw herself as an individual. It was so obvious that she belonged to him; she was his sister, and they were Slytherin’s heirs, a deteriorated bloodline in need of strengthening. In need of purifying. “You haven’t met the basilisk,” he said, suddenly desperate to get her back into the Chamber.

“There’s a basilisk?” she said indifferently.

“Our basilisk. You should meet her.”

“Why would I want to meet a basilisk, Thomas?”

“You haven’t spoken to her.”

“No, but I’ve heard her, in the pipes. She doesn’t sound a dazzling conversationalist.”

“Come with me.” Somewhere in the building, Rubeus Hagrid was in the headmaster’s office, trying to explain away his illegal acromantula even though the poor thing had been doomed the moment he walked into this school as a half-giant. Tom could only imagine how wonderful it would feel to have a second victory today.

“You’re plotting something,” his sister accused.

“How astute.”

She rolled her eyes, in a clear, if reluctant, concession. “If it’s something stupid, I will leave.”

He took her down to the Chamber for a second time, adamant that she would not leave, even if she wanted to. He led her down a few corridors, rather than to the stone atrium he usually visited. There was a large pile of snake skins in this hallway, more commodious than the trails of snake skins littered throughout, that would be perfect for his purposes, and he hoped to put them to use.

“Last time you were here, I told you that we would rule together,” he said.

“So you did,” his sister answered, almost boredly. “I don’t suppose you’ve lost your enchantment with that idea?”

He licked his lips. She was walking ahead of him, as there were no forks in the corridor for him to guide her through. She wasn’t looking his way, but rather watching the ceiling as she went, as though intrigued by the idea of the whole of Hogwarts being above them.

Always walking ahead when she should have been walking by his side.

Tom pulled out his wand silently. The hex that he sent her way would have cleanly and entirely disabled her for at least the next ten minutes, but the sudden light that the spell provided had alerted her to his intentions, and she had spun hastily out of the way, removing her own wand from her pocket as she did so; he should have taken that from her before doing anything else. No matter.

What followed was a short duel, with extremely impressive spellwork all around. They were evenly matched, and he didn’t say that lightly; few ever matched him. But it came down to who wanted victory more, and her wariness of him did not exceed his desire for her.

Soon enough, she was crumpled on the ground, groaning and scarcely able to move. He lifted her into his arms and walked her to the chosen pile of snake skins. They weren’t exactly soft, but they had enough give to them that they were easily preferable to the stone floor. He set her down on them and climbed atop her. 

Her eyes were nearly closed, but not quite, and they still followed his movement, which meant that she was conscious. Good.

“We’ve always kept each other in balance,” he said calmly, while keeping his wand leveled on her torso, working nonverbal magic to unfasten her robes. “No one of us could rule nearly as well without the other.”

Her gaze left him, instead peering at the far wall. He suspected she was looking for her wand, which had rolled down the corridor, but she wasn’t strong enough to move her head.

She should have been looking at him.

Her robes fell away, and his eyes feasted on her bareness. He had not seen so much of her in years.

She managed to growl at him, but only weakly.

“I let you have five years with those friends of yours,” he said softly. “I was generous, wasn’t I? I let you laugh and pretend with those idiots?”

She shut her eyes, because of course she knew exactly what would annoy him more than looking away from him.

He cast a mild stinging jinx to make her open them again, while at the same time removing her undergarments. “Watch me,” he hissed. “Watch me touch you.”

She watched, but only because he would keep stinging her if she didn’t.

He kissed her lips, then advanced his tongue into her mouth, and then moaned loudly, just so that she would have to know that she was giving him pleasure, no matter how much she hated it. She was naked under him, naked on a pile of snake skins in their Chamber of Secrets. He loosened his necktie, then his belt.

“We have the greatest magical lineage in the world, and it will be because of us that it continues,” he said.

“I will hurt you for this,” she told him, in Parseltongue because it was the only language she could manage in this state.

He thumbed licentiously at one of her nipples. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But I’d be careful making threats like that.” He pointed his wand at the middle of her head. “Maybe you’ll be better at carrying my babies if you don’t remember you’re doing it, hmm?”

She tried to keep glaring at him, but her bottom lip trembled, and she ended up closing her eyes again.

“Look at me,” he ordered, not stinging her this time.

She opened her eyes, and they were damp and scornful.

He kissed her lips again, more softly, and eased his trousers and pants down his waist. “Just think of how powerful we will be together,” he whispered, with the same awed tone he had once used to whisper to her at bedtime, when they’d shared a room at the orphanage.

(He’d been furious with Mrs. Cole when she’d made them move to separate rooms on account of his sister’s first menstrual cycle. Muggles always ruining things, always asserting themselves where they didn’t belong.)

“Ours will be the only bloodline that matters,” he breathed. “None of those so-called purebloods will dare say their family name in our presence. We will be royalty together.”

She was trying to move her arm, still trying to resist, but she was too weak. She would come around once she had to; she couldn’t stay mad at him once he had started making good on these promises.

He eased her legs apart and thrust himself inside of her. Her resulting moan rang through the stone halls, far from anyone who could dare to steal the symphony; it was just for him. Cadwallader certainly couldn’t hear her, couldn’t feel…Ohhh, Merlin. The contact, the perfect joining of two halves, was almost enough to make him release straightaway, but he knew that there was more, so he kept thrusting.

She listened to his hitches of breath and tried not to give him anything to listen to in return, though it was impossible not to make a sound. He was her first, but she would never tell him. She would go to the grave pretending that there was someone else before him.

Was she his first? Almost definitely.

This was so sick.

She thought that she wanted nothing more than for him to be done, but then when he finished inside her, it was a new kind of horrifying. Feeling him empty a load of horrors into her body, where they couldn’t be reached, all while making such enraptured sounds…They hadn’t taken contraceptive potions before the fact; she didn’t even know how to brew or access any, nor how to find out about them without destroying her reputation. And that was all counting on the assumption that Tom had only been trying to scare her, when he’d implied that he might erase her memory of this whole incident.

That thought sickened her the most, made her truly distraught, the idea that he might do all of this to her, wring pleasure from her helpless and unwilling body, and then she might be civil with him tomorrow regardless.

Himself, Tom intended to make full use of this night. His followers would cover for him if anyone inquired after his presence, and he would not be satisfied with exploring his sister’s potential only once.

He smiled. Upstairs, the whole issue of the dead mudblood was being squared away, with him scot free and even likely to receive an award for his heroism, and down here, he had finally achieved the correct amount of closeness with his sister.

He pulled out only once he was sure that none of his seed would be wasted. It actually wouldn’t be terribly convenient for her if she became pregnant while still in school, but it would increase her dependence on him, and she wouldn’t be foolish enough to name him as the child’s father (especially if he decided to make her forget that he was), so he could safely consider it a non-risk for himself.

He stared at her. Covered in sweat, even though she hadn’t been moving. Eyes closed, but he didn’t feel like bothering her over it now, when his mood was so good.

She probably considered it rude that he was allowed to keep his shirt and necktie on while she was completely bare; he rectified the problem, taking care to drape his clothes over the snake skins instead of on the dusty floor. He liked it better this way, at any rate; only skin against skin.

Clearing his throat to make her open her eyes, he pleasantly announced, “We’re going to go again, okay?”

Her gaze was positively gelid, but she didn’t growl, which he took as assent.

[the-writer-ofthe-fandoms]

True (Lucifer SPN)

Pairing: Lucifer (Supernatural) x Reader Words: 1.5k+ Warning(s): Shapeshifter, a lil bit of angst, some heated stuff ehehe A/N: Im rewatching Supernatural and it rekindled my love for Lucifer. What is it with me and Lucifer ahaha. I hope you guys enjoy~

-----

You grunted and winced, the fabric bag that was over your head ripped off your head. There standing in front of you was a damn Shapeshifter with your damn face. They smirked at you as you struggled against the ropes binding you. You were on a case alone that was supposed to be a simple salt and burn, and it was. But apparently the shifter in town caught wind that a hunter was in town. The guy who spoke to you before you left town at the gas station must've been the shapeshifter; before you became his new face. He was the last person you saw before blacking out. You looked around and pieced together you were in some sort of basement.

"Wakey-wakey, (Y/N)." He chuckled. "My, my... To get ahold of someone who is so close to the Winchesters. I must've won the lottery!"

"If you know anything about them you would know you can't fool them." You snarled back.

"I am currently learning everything about you." He tapped your forehead, "I already know juicy details about Sam and Dean and oh! The bunker too. I'll pay them a little visit and kill them in their sleep~." The shifter walked away from you, slipping your hunting bag over their shoulder. "I left you some food and water, can't have you dying on me! Toodles!" He chucked your knife close by you before leaving the basement.

You smirked to yourself, seems like your imposter hasn't learned everything about you yet. Like how you were in a relationship with the Lucifer, your soulmate. You had to stop yourself from praying to him, just in case the shifter would be able to access that. If the boys didn't figure it out soon enough, Lucifer would definitely tell the difference. You felt almost sick that a shifter took on your face, you just hope they would stopped in time.

You maneuvered the knife your doppelganger tossed you to your tied up hands, and slowly you began cutting away at the ropes. When the ropes were cut off you immediately started looking for a way out. The only window to the outside was way too small for anyone to enter or exit.

"Damn." You growled. You walked to the door, just in case there was a slim chance it was left unlocked; it wasn't. You sighed and attempted to kick it down, didn't work. "There has to be something the dumbass left around."

You sighed and began your search through out the basement, hoping this would all be over soon.

-----

Shapeshifter you pulled into the garage around 10pm and smirked. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to get ahold of you; one of the closest people to the all too well known Winchester brothers. He felt all too confident that he could trick the two easy-peasy. He locked the car and strode into the bunker, a cocky smirk was on his, technically yours, face.

'All I have to do is wait until they fall asleep.' He found his way to the library of the bunker and there were Dean and Sam, not suspecting a thing. The two looked up from their laptops and grinned.

"How was the hunt, (Y/N)?" Dean asked.

"Pretty easy. The ghost didn't stand a chance against me." Shifter-You grinned and sat down at the table with them.

"Good you got back in time, we found a big hunt about 3 hours from now and we want to go first thing tomorrow. We also want to bring your boyfriend too, we may need his help with some things." Sam passed over the newspaper article of whatever they want to hunt. The Shifter mentally cursed at the fact you had a boyfriend, he hadn't had enough time to learn more about you.

"Sounds good." He gulped as he scanned over the paper. He carefully eyed the two brothers as they continued talking about a game plan for the hunt and he hoped more of your memories would become accessible to him. "Well I am going to my room and catch up on some sleep, see you both later!"

"Goodnight, (Y/N)." They both waved and he got up from his seat.

"There is my one and only favorite human!" A voice the shifter didn't recognize shouted behind him. He turned around, ready to act like you, but practically froze on the spot.

'This bitch is dating Lucifer?' He internally screamed and put on his best (Y/N)-esque smile.

"Hey there, babe~" He continuously began silently freaking out when the Devil leaned in and kissed the shifter-yous forehead. Did he successfully trick the infamous fallen angel?

"You look scrumptious." Lucifer smirked.

"Ugh get a room you two." Dean grunted, causing the shifter to turn and face him.

"Don't worry Dean, there won't be anymore PDA."  Lucifer wrapped his arms around the shifter, his arms tightening. "Because this isn't (Y/N)."

"What the hell?" Both Dean and Sam grabbed their guns, keeping them at the ready.

"Lucifer w-what are you talking about?" The shifter paused for a second before struggling with all his might to break free from the practically bone crushing hug from Lucifer but he couldn't.

"Demon?!" Sam shouted.

"Nope, a shapeshifter." Luci smirked, his eyes shifting to red. "Oh you are so going to regret shifting into my (Y/N)."

"If you harm me I won't tell you where they are!" The shifter tried to bargain.

"Are you stupid or dumb? I am archangel Lucifer, I will find (Y/N)."

"Why do you want to find that bitch anyways? They think of you as a monster, Lucifer." The shifter snarled. "I have access to all their memories and thoughts. You disgust them, repulse them even. They think you are nothing. The mere thought of you touching them makes then want to burn their skin on off-"

"Shoot them, they bore me." Lucifer sighed and shoved shifter you forward. Before the shapeshifter tried running, both Dean and Sam landed two fatal shots with silver bullets. Your body fell to the ground with a thud... And the shifter was dead. The Winchesters eyed Lucifer carefully but his face was unreadable.

"Uh are you okay, Lucifer? They were saying some pretty harsh stuff as (Y/N)."

"That was rookie stuff." He shrugged his shoudlers. "Take care of this while I go find (Y/N)."

-----

You sighed and slumped against the pillar you were once tied to. It had been hours since the 'evil you' left and you were feeling exhausted. Your search for a way out was futile, but you had high hopes for a rescue. You figured that the Shapeshifter should be at the bunker by now, so you were pondering your choices.

"Ah fuck it." You closed your eyes and began concentrating, preparing to pray to Lucifer.

'Lucifer-'

The sound of fluttering wings made you snap open your eyes, Lucifer was standing right in front of you. He grinned and held out a hand, which you gladly took, and he immediately pulled you into an embrace.

"I knew you would know." You buried your face into his chest, hugging him tight.

"I will always know who the real you is. Now let's get you home." You felt the usually spinning when Lucifer teleported and next thing you know, you were in the bunker library.

"Where's the brothers?"

"They are taking care of the Shapeshifter. Let's go to our room." He took hold of your hand and you both walk down the hallway to your room. You watched Lucifers carefully, you can tell there was something wrong and you knew it had to do something with the shifter.

You arrived to your shared room with Lucifer. Once the door was closed you pulled him into a deep, emotional kiss; your body pressed against his. You break away and stared deeply into his eyes, placing a hand on his cheek.

"I am sorry if shifter-me said anything to you, Luci." You sigh,"What happened?"

"Why are you apologizing? It wasn't you." He lead you to the bed to sit down. "That shifter said you hated me basically, that I am disgusting. And watching "you" die was something else."

"Aw Lucifer, I love you with all my being and I hope you know that I could never see you as a monster." You wrap your arms around his shoulders and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Now, I was stuck in a dusty, dirty basement all day. I think a shower with my favorite Devil~"

"Oh I like the way you think." He smirked. "Let's get those restricting clothes off.~"

"No need to tell me twice." You maneuvered and now you were straddling Lucifer, you ran your hands through his sandy blond hair. You felt his hands go to your hips, and slowly they made their way to your back. His hands slid under your shirt, the light and gentle touches made you shiver.

"My favorite human, my soulmate, my love." Lucifer murmured in your ear before he kissed your neck. He held you tight while he left little hickies along your collarbone.

You felt pure happiness in that moment with your soulmate Lucifer.

[blancheludis]

@whumptober2021 Day 3: Taunting, Insults

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition Characters: Dorian Pavus, The Iron Bull Tags: Assault, Mage-Templar Conflict, Self-Worth Issues, Hurt Dorian, Holy Smite, Protective Iron Bull Words: 3.484

Summary: Dorian can count on one hand the times he was hit by a Smite and it was always during training, leaving him shaky and sick the rest of the day. This feels so much worse, done out of malice, meant to cripple instead of teach.

“You were saying, mage?”

- A few Templars attack Dorian in Skyhold. Bull comes to the rescue.

---

It has gotten late. Dinner is already over and while there is faint music to be heard from the Herald’s Rest, the rest of Skyhold is eerily deserted. Dorian curses himself silently as he hurries through the dark corridors. He lost track of time in the library, which should not come as a surprise, really, but he knows better than to walk alone after dark.

He is not afraid. Dangers lurk around every corner, but he trusts in his ability to defend himself. The thing is, that he is not certain whether he should defend himself. The Tevinter Mage far from home, shrouded in mystery. People do not trust him here, but the reasons are so laughably threadbare. He is neither a blood mage nor does he want to overthrow any kingdoms.

“Mage,” a voice calls out, harsh but slightly too loud for the late hour.

Dorian hastens his step. He knows the distaste in the tone intimately, even if it is only since he left Tevinter that he learned it paired just as well with mage as it does with slave or son.

He keeps his head up, makes it look like he is not running away. Running never helps. While most of the soldiers here are cowards, some do like to hunt, and Dorian knows better than to give them a reason to.

“I’m talking to you.”

And Dorian is trying his best not to hear him. One of these days, he is going to accidentally incinerate a hapless Templar trying to waylay him. The uproar that will cause. Perhaps that will still better than this cat-and-mouse game that he always, always loses.

A hand grabs Dorian all of a sudden, appearing out of nowhere in the dark. Dorian, who was concentrating on the yelling man in his back has not been paying attention to what is ahead of him.

Another Templar. Even out of uniform they are unmistakeable. That fanatic fire in their eyes that burns brightest when Dorian is near. They like to leave their hands hovering over their hips, even when they are not wearing their swords, constantly following that urge to be ready, to cut down a mage, no questions asked.

“Is there something wrong with your ears, mage?” the Templar in front of him asks, his grip tight enough to leave bruises. Alcohol clouds his breath, almost as potent as hate.

“Nothing at all,” Dorian answers brightly, trying to tone down the sharpness of his voice. “Nobody was calling my name, though.”

He bites his tongue. So much for holding back. It is high time to get out of here before the stragglers reach them. But no matter how much he twists his arm, the Templar’s hold remains strong. He could put the man on his back, but mages are not allowed to defend themselves and he does not want all of Skyhold’s guards to be called down on him because these guys are screaming murder.

“You bloody ‘Vints, always thinking you’re better than us good folks.”

Dorian barely manages to keep his face from scrunching up, but some of his contempt must have slipped through anyway because the man’s scowl deepens. Definitely time to get out.

“Well, I better relieve you of my presence then. Wouldn’t want to ruin your night,” Dorian says and calls fire to his hands, not enough to burn but to warm his fingers in warning. To his dismay, the Templar’s grip only tightens and he pulls Dorian closer.

“The Inquisitor should have never let you in,” he snarls, his foul breath warm on Dorian’s cheek. “We’re trying to save the world, not break it.”

Unable to help himself, Dorian laughs. “Did you read that in one of Master Tethras’ novels? Mighty impressive, I didn’t think they wasted the energy on teaching war dogs to read.”

Dorian should shut up. The drunk guy behind him is coming closer, leaning on a friend’s shoulder. Three on one are not odds Dorian would think twice about in the field. Things are different here. Even drunk and clearly hoping for a fight, people will listen more closely to these three than Dorian.

He is just a mage, barely a friend of the Inquisitor, neither trusted nor even a real asset because who would want a necromancer in their back when they could have him dead and buried, safely sealed away. It grates at Dorian’s pride, but he has practice in being not wanted and sneered at. He does not think it will ever stop hurting but that does not mean he will let them see.

Dorian twists his hand, determined to scare them off even if he does not dare to actually attack them. But before he can do much of anything, the Templar takes an abrupt step forward and shoves Dorian against the wall behind him. The force rattles his ribcage, upsetting a bruise he got while training with Bull. He does not let the pain show but raises a hand and lets a flame dance on his palm, bigger now and definitely a threat. Hopefully, the reminder that he could fling a fireball at their heads will be enough to get them to back off.

What Dorian does not expect is the wave of sudden coldness slamming into him, making him double over. The energy crackling under his skin, ready to be called forth, vanishes, drained by the Smite, leaving only nausea in its wake.

It is a terrible feeling, beyond words. Wielding magic is like breathing, but the Smite is more than a chokehold. It feels as if boiling silver is poured down his throat, charring his insides and leaving nothing but a barren wasteland and the painful memory of greatness.

He can count on one hand the times he was hit by a Smite and it was always during training, leaving him shaky and sick the rest of the day. This feels so much worse, done out of malice, meant to cripple instead of teach.

“You were saying, mage?”

The drunk guy sounds much more sober now if no less disdainful.

Panic unfurls in the pit of Dorian’s stomach as he realizes he is cornered. He cannot run, he can not access his magic. He is helpless in the middle of the Inquisition’s stronghold.

Perhaps they will be happy with simply roughing him up a little, with teaching him his place. The drunk guy is leering at him, but Dorian has gone to his knees under equally terrible circumstances before. If they want to kill him, though, there is little he can do. This is not how his story will end. It cannot be. And yet, Dorian has his hands full with staying upright.

He barely feels the first punch. It rattles his body but the pain is a mere echo, lost in the void that has suddenly opened in Dorian’s very core.

The men are still talking, all three of them now towering over Dorian, but he just hears the hate in their voices, no actual words.

A punch the face snaps him out of his stupor, the acute sharpness of it enough to penetrate the fog that has settled over his senses. With consciousness, though, comes more fear.

“You mage scum are good for one thing, though,” one of the Templars says. Dorian is far beyond being able to recognize faces, but his wide grin reveals a missing tooth. “And once we’re done, we’ll bury you outside in the snow, do a favour for all of us.”

Dorian hates the cold and he really, really does not want to die in it. He does not want to die at all, but the how has suddenly become a far greater concern then the when. He opens his mouth, not sure whether to say something or to just scream, but he does not get to do either because another hit to the head makes his vision swim and his thoughts scatter.

“What is going on here?” a new voice interrupts, making the three Templars jump.

The sudden lack of contact between them has Dorian slumping against the wall, his legs shaking too badly to keep him upright. His mind, however, whirs into a panicked chorus of denial. Three men are more than enough, he cannot have even more join the apparent free-for-all he has become this night.

Then, though, he sees the men back away, and when he looks at the newcomer, he finds too broad shoulders and horns and - Dorian has never been so glad to see Bull. It does not matter that he is a mage or a ‘Vint, Bull will not leave him to his fate.

“We were just having a friendly discussion,” one of the Templars says.

Dorian’s brain is slowly sorting itself out again as no new pain comes forth, and he scoffs. It tugs at a fresh bruise on his face.

“The Inquisitor is making a mistake trusting these abominations.”

Dorian is pretty sure that is the one who used the Smite. He shivers, pushes himself further against the wall. The Templars are no match against Bull, but they are still standing like a wall in front of Dorian.

“I suggest that you run,” Bull says, his voice vibrating with something dark. “And if you’re smart, you’ll leave Skyhold tonight and never look back.”

“We don’t take orders from beasts,” the gap-toothed one spats, no ounce of self-preservation.

Dorian has seen Bull on the battlefield, bloodied and hungry for a fight, an unstoppable force. Right in front of their eyes, Bull transforms into something worse than that. His back straightens, making him grow even taller, and his eyes gleam with that same battle madness, focused unflinchingly on these three, puny men.

“Run,” he bellows and takes a swing. Even armour would not have saved Gap-Tooth for Bull does not hold back. His fist slams into the Templar’s jaw with a sickening crunch, throwing him through the air as if he weighs nothing.

That is enough of a demonstration that they do not question Bull again but run, stumbling over their own feet in their hurry to get away. Dorian would laugh at their turned backs, relishing in how the situation was flipped on them, but he is still too busy with just breathing.

He closes his eyes and catalogues the pain. The throbbing, familiar ache of bruises is easier to deal with than the terrifying void inside of him. He reaches for his magic and nothing answers. His skin is just skin and not a conduit. His body is just blood and bones and nerves, full of pain and longing now, nothing greater.

“Are you all right, big guy?” Bull asks, sounding way too close.

When Dorian opens his eyes, Bull is crouching next to him, the madness replaced by blatant concern.

He will live. Nothing feels broken and there are potions against the pain. This is not his first rodeo.

“Of course,” Dorian lies. He is not sure he can stand up, much less make the way back to his quarters. He does not particularly want to be alone either – he has never been this weak before. Or, well, he was once, when his father – better not go there. This evening is ruined enough.

“You were assaulted –” Bull says but trails off when Dorian pushes to his feet.

Shaking legs or not, he is done cowering and he does not need Bull’s pity. Bad enough he had to be saved.

“Merely a misunderstanding,” Dorian says and puts in the effort to regain control over his expression. “Although I appreciate you stepping in.”

He has some experience with putting himself back together. And being alone in his room does not sound so bad if he thinks about it. There, at least, will be nobody to act tough for.

Bull nods but Dorian knows him well enough by now that this battle is not won. Coming another step closer, he his hand on the crook of Dorian’s elbow, never bothering to ask whether Dorian even wants help.

“How often does this happen?” Bull asks, his tone just conversational enough to almost hide the simmering anger beneath.

Deep down, Dorian is flattered that Bull would be upset on his behalf, but if he lets this happen it will only lead to more complications down the road. So, while he does not push off Bull’s hand, he takes care not to lean on him and begins walking towards his room. It is slow going, at first, because his body feels wrong, missing something vital, but he is walking.

“Do you think there’s someone waiting around every corner trying to trip me up?” Dorian says, falling back on his old friend sarcasm. That at least is familiar. “They were drunk.”

Drunk and ready to kill him. That is definitely a step up from mere insults and the occasional try to trip him in the hallways.

“And yet you don’t seem surprised.” Bull looks at him from the side, with an intensity in his eyes that reminds Dorian that bull is not just a formidable fighter but also a spy. “This actually explains quite a bit. You love your wine, but you never get drunk. You always leave the tavern early and never alone. You -”

Dorian pulls his arm away from Bull, very aware that people keep touching him. The momentum of that almost throws him off balance, but apart from the sheer wrongness of being without magic and the exhaustion weighing him down, Dorian almost feels like himself again. Half of himself, covered in bruises, but not a victim anymore.

“Are you done analysing me?” he snaps, knowing that his glare falls flat. “Nothing happened.”

Bull does not visibly react to Dorian refusing his help but looks decidedly unimpressed. “You’re shaking.” He does not move further away but somehow manages not to crowd Dorian either.

“Well, let someone cut one of your limbs off and see how you like it.” It feels like that, only that the loss is not located in just one limb but all of him at once. Magic is always there, waiting just for his call. His entire skin prickles with it, his lungs draw it in alongside the air to breathe. Without it, he barely feels human.

“A limb?” Bull asks, confusion interrupting his casual interrogation. Did they – oh. They took your magic?”

Bull’s realization does not sit right with Dorian. There is no malice on his face, no relief. One of his Chargers is a mage and Bull never gave the impression he minded Dorian using magic, on or off a battlefield. But Dorian is only too aware of how Qunari view mages. It is probably unfair, but he still cannot quite think clearly. And part of him will always be wary of Bull’s loyalty to the Qun.

“One used the Smite,” he says, trying for nonchalance, although it is hard to fool Bull even when he is not exhausted and in pain. “I’ll be right as rain in a minute.” Or a few hours, if he can only lock his door and lie down.

“Dorian.” Bull pulls him to a stop, just the briefest of touches before he lets his hand fall again. “This is not okay. You need to talk to Cullen about this.” It is a miracle, how he can sound so serious while saying something this ridiculous.

Dorian is already walking such a fine line with the Inquisition. It does not matter that he very much wants to rid the world of Corypheus and that he would keep hunting Venatori on his own, that he wants to reform his homeland until it is something to be proud of again. The Inquisitor likes him and trusts him not to betray them. The rest of the Skyhold’s inhabitants? Not so much.

Cullen is always civil to Dorian, the same way he is to foreign diplomats and nobles. Their conversations have gotten a bit warmer since they started playing chess together. That does not mean that Cullen would go against his own people for the sake of a mage telling tales.

“I most definitely do not,” Dorian says with a glare. “I can handle myself.” He has done so a thousand times before and likely will a thousand more.

“That’s what it looked like.”

It is not like Bull to mock him. About his clothes or the way he drinks his wine, yes. But about losing a fight? A minute ago, he called it assault but now the blame has shifted to Dorian. It always does. Time to go so he can lick his wounds in private.

“If you’re done insulting me, then –”

Bull reaches out and Dorian flinches instinctively. It gives them both halt, so much more telling about Dorian’s state than his threadbare lies.

“What about the other mages?” Bull then asks, his tone gentle, reasonable. “What if they’re going for someone a little less noticeable next? Who doesn’t play chess with the Commander and has his ear?”

Dorian has thought about that before. The other mages usually do not go out alone, too used to be wary of Templars. And he doubts anybody would dare to touch Vivienne or Solas.

“They hate me because I’m from Tevinter.” It is certainly true. And he is never quiet about his disdain of Ferelden either. The weather, the dogs, the food. He will not be forbidden to speak the truth.

But Bull does not seem to buy it. “Is that all?

Dorian stays silent. He is loud and flashy and unrepentant, so that is what might have drawn their gaze. There is little about him that does not offend people here. But that is not what their main issue is with him, but the fact that he commands a power they do not understand and never will because they cower from it.

Being a mage is not a choice, though. In most parts of Thedas, magic is treated as something to be contained and caged. Control is important, certainly, but magic is in everything and cutting it out means going through life half-blind.

Dorian turns and starts walking again. He is done with this conversation. People will always come after him and making him a fool of himself in front of the Commander of the Inquisition forces will not change that. In fact, he might just get another enemy out of this.

“I can talk to Cullen, if you’d prefer,” Bull offers, keeping up easily with him.  

“I don’t need you to fight my battles,” Dorian bites out. He will have to talk to Fiona and perhaps Vivienne to make sure that the other mages are not harassed too. He can deal with it, has done so for as long as he remembers, even if the insults change wherever he goes. But Bull is right, he will not let other experience the same.

“Never said you weren’t capable,” Bull says, his placating tone falling on deaf ears. “Do you know who they were?”

Dorian has no ideas. If he remembered every face that looked at him with disgust, every person who spewed insults or spat at him, he would not be able to cram anything else into his brain. It was never that important.

He shakes his head. “Cullen trusts the Templars that came with him.” And, despite the progress Cullen has undoubtedly made, he does not trust mages.

Bull nods but argues anyway, “We’re getting more refugees every day. He doesn’t know all of them.”

And they will still be Templars while Dorian is just an enemy mage. But Bull is right. If they are going after a member of the Inquisition’s inner circle, the other mages are not safe.

“I’ll talk to him,” he promises grudgingly. That is not a conversation he is looking forward to. He can already imagine the questions. Are you sure you did nothing to provoke them?

“Good.” Bull smiles as if he never doubted he would win the argument. “Let me walk you back to your quarters.”

Dorian should protest. He is a grown man. But he is tired and shaken to the core, still empty inside where his magic used to reside. He still does not want to be alone, does not want to peer around every corner, waiting for the next attack. The shadows seem to retreat from Bull’s massive form and Dorian is glad for the company.

He does not say thank you, but the corner of Bull’s mouth ticks further up as if he hears it anyway.

“Next time, just find me at the tavern. If I’m not there, the boys will be just as happy to help.”

Dorian nods, even though he does not understand the offer. Bull does not owe him anything. But this is something he has been learning slowly, relying on others. Maybe he can allow himself to get used to it. He can dream, at least.

[fanfictrashdump]

Universe in a Jar, 2 - Phase 4 fic

Recap: Some days ago, I reblogged this post about the magical trio. And then my brain went off on a monumental tangent and, I wrote Universe in a Jar.

Characters: Stephen Strange, Loki, Wanda Maximoff, OC

Rating: T? 

Warnings: Language! Embarrassing use of euphemisms, mourning, grief, mention of parent death, flirting is you squint, neurological disorders, attempted accidental murder, and typos probs.

Summary: Baby-sitting beings arguably more powerful than him goes awry for Doctor Strange. He knows one person who can possibly keep them isolated and out of trouble. Well, he knew someone who could… he hasn’t seen them in decades and for stupid reasons. 

XX

Persephone paused at the kitchen entrance, steeling her resolve and gathering the courage to walk past the table to get herself a cup of coffee. The notion that she would have to make herself brave enough to get something in her own home was ridiculous, but her kitchen was currently full of magic beings, as it had been every day for the past week. That wasn't the bit that made her hesitant, not being strictly ordinary herself. It was the man bent over a bowl of blackberries, freshly plucked off of a bush out back, that made her anxious. It was the superimposition of the familiar sight, her friend picking out twigs, leaves and the occasional caterpillar from the fruit, with the dull memory of a storybook villain who laid her whole feelings to waste.

"Morning! There's coffee and I'm making pancakes!" Wanda announced, much more cheery than she had been in a long while. The silence and lack of activities of their little haven in rural Nebraska had given her plenty of time to deal with unpleasant feelings. The witch tossed a half dozen pancakes in the air, all of them flipping perfectly back onto the griddle with no mess. Some people were blessed with better magic than her, Seph realized a little bitterly. "They have blaaackberries!"

"Oh. I, um, yeah–"

Stephen made a small noise of amusement. "I got strawberries for you. I know you think blackberries taste too purple."

She was forced to look up at the face she had been dreading for a whole week. The corner of Stephen's mouth twitched upwards briefly in a not unkind manner. Purple splotches stained the front of his t-shirt, a sight that took her back to days of youth when they would fill their shirts with berries and stuff themselves under a shady tree. Clearly, he had not yet learned another method to carry produce.

"That is not a thing, I assure you," Loki quipped with a smirk. He had helped himself to a book from Seph's library and had kicked his feet up on another chair, watching as the other two tinkered with breakfast.

"I have synesthesia. So, it is, actually, a thing."

She skirted past the men to the coffee maker, pouring herself a fresh cup and helping herself to the milk and sugar that had been left beside it. Wanda was good at this homemaker lark, considering Seph felt like she was an esteemed guest in her own home. Wanda had remarked several times that she liked to make people feel welcome and that she felt guilty for dropping in with the 'Magic Castle rejects' and causing 'unwarranted levels of trauma'. Seph had reassured her that she was fine with the company and it wasn't even bad to have Stephen around, but there was always an edge in her voice and a hint of mistruth in her voice that failed to convince the other woman.

"What in this Midgardian Hel is synesthesia?"

"Mis-wired sensory neurons." Stephen and Persephone answered in unison, startling each other and sharing a long, tense look before she continued. "My taste and sight are a little crossed."

"So your brain is broken." Despite the bluntness of his statement, Loki did not sound mean, more curious.

"More like it perceives differently."

"Mm." He was quiet for a long time after that one hum. The only noise in the kitchen being the sizzle of pancakes and the occasional sip of coffee. "How do you perceive portals? Do you feel the energy and shape it?"

Seph tilted her head in thought. She knocked Loki's legs from the chair and sank into the seat. Stephen and Wanda pretended to be engrossed in their task of making pancakes while they eavesdropped on the conversation. "No. It's like… have you ever seen those forests in a bottle? With like the microplants and worms, and you water it and close it. And it'll basically a self-sustaining entity as long as you don't open it? I see it like that, but the bottle is very flexible and bigger on the inside. Like the TARDIS."

"The what?"

"Time and relative dimension in space. It's a space and time travel machine. It's bigger on the inside," Stephen explained, mixing his fourth cup of coffee of the morning, which did not help with the shaking of his hands but it did wonders to quell his nauseous anxiety.

Loki's eyes widened with excitement. "Where can we acquire one?"

Seph smiled, reaching over to pat Loki's hand. "It's a television show, buddy. It's not real."

"Then why bring it into the conversation?"

"It was a good comparison. I didn't know quality entertainment was so lacking in Asgard." The atmosphere shifted subtly and Seph looked up from her cup of coffee to see all three magicians tense. "What?" More silence followed. Stephen's eyes flittered to Loki and everything made sense. This Loki had not lived through the chaos of moving his people to Earth. She then remembered Wanda giving her an update on everyone a few days ago and how he had not really taken everything all too well… fuck. "Oh. Oh, shit, I'm sorry, Loki."

The Asgardian smiled, a calm, bright expression that looked a little forced. "No worries."

Pushing the coffee away, she angled her body to Loki's and grasped his hand. "It's OK to be sad about losing a home that never truly accepted you, Lo–"

Stephen rolled his eyes and muttered. "Here we go."

Seph groaned, closing her eyes to settle herself. "No one's talking to you, Stephen!"

"Bleeding heart."

"Scalpel jockey."

He scoffed. "You could've done any specialty, chosen any residency–"

"And that's what I did. Not all of us are content hacking into people's heads."

"Not content in making a real difference, you mean?"

"Yes, tell me how that surgical career is working for you right now, Strange!" It was a low blow, she knew, and there was almost a feeling of guilt as he closed his fists to mask the shuddering of his hands self-consciously.

"I'm sure your business is booming. A couple of global catastrophes have probably got the nutjobs flocking to the brilliant psychiatrist, Dr. Hale."

Seph let out a disdainful laugh. "Considering most of my patients are kids who can suddenly levitate shit around their room or accidentally set things on fire, yes. My business is booming. If only the Earth had a protector that would keep global catastrophes from happening and triggering powers in scared kids." She swigged from her coffee and leaned back in her chair. "At least they have someone to talk to."

He slammed his own cup onto the kitchen table and chuckled. "And there it is! We talked almost twenty minutes without you bringing it up, Seph. Good job! You're getting bett–"

His cutting remarks were cut off abruptly, leaving only an odd mutter and the thumping of fist on glass. Around him, walls of a shimmery energy created a box and closed off all noise from the Sorcerer Supreme. His protests sounded like they were coming from underwater, though the walls were clear and solid to the touch. It almost looked like a specimen jar for entomologists–a killing jar.

"He's quiet, at the very least," Loki remarked, turning to give Seph a smile only to find her hazel eyes glowing as if they were leaking light, contrasting starkly with her dark skin. Her hands were shoulder width apart. Distractedly, she tilted her head, curls shifting slightly, and brought her hands closer together. The box rippled, and with it Strange coughed, suddenly panting for breath as he thumped his fist on the wall. "Persephone. Seph. Seph!" The woman showed no signs of hearing him, intensely focused on just the box and her prey. "Wanda!"

Wanda turned from the stove, midway through an eye roll before she dropped her spatula and swirling a large red orb in her hands and directing it towards the glass. The barrier shimmered but barely moved. Loki worked green and golden magic over Seph, trying to break through the blocks in her mind, but was becoming continually distracted by Stephen trying to magic his way out of the enclosure until he slumped forward, breathing shallowly.

"Come on, Seph. You need to let him go. It's not going to help." His eyes drifted to Strange. The sling ring had his magic flicker shortly before dying. Something about that box was not letting him enchant. "Persephone, killing him won't make it better. Believe me. Knowing the person who made you suffer is dead only gives you more grievances."

Wanda surrounded the bottle with her magic. It deformed and shifted, but was no closer to breaking apart to when she started. "I need help and Strange doesn't have long."

"Switch!" Loki turned his attention to the box, his magic making the whole thing shudder.

Wanda had taken his place and was fluttering her fingers beside Seph's temple, red tendrils flowing between them in an effort to access the other's mind. She frowned. "She's… she's keeping me out. How is she doing this? This shouldn’t be possible."

"Impossible is our specialty. Just keep trying." Loki grit his teeth, drawing and gathering his magic and concentrating it in one small, brilliant pebble. With a grunt of effort, he shot the projectile at the glass and a small crack appeared. "Oh for fuck's sake!" 

He repeated the process several times until the crack extended and opened just enough for air to flow in. Stephen breathed a little easier but was still looking weak, his skin sallow and pale; lips a sickly purple. With one last growl, Loki’s magic exploded outward, and the box shattered with a spine-quivering screech. He barely had the time to snatch the Sorcerer before he collapsed on the ground.

Seph inhaled sharply, shaking her head to clear the cobwebs from her mind, and opened her eyes to find all three guests staring at her with furrowed brows and narrowed gazes. Her gaze connected with Wanda, who still had her magic at the ready, to Stephen who was hanging off Loki's shoulder, desperately moving air into his lungs, to Loki who just looked concerned. On the floor, shards of shimmering glass rested, shaking to some unknown Universal vibration pattern before disappearing.

"Well, at the very least, he'll know not to antagonize you, now," Loki quipped, breaking the tense silence.

"Loki, no–" Stephen groaned, watching Seph disappearing from the kitchen, her footsteps echoing up the stairs.

About an hour later, Seph heard her bedroom door squeak open. She sat up like a shot and shuffled back against the headboard. Stephen closed the door behind him, his eyes fixed on her shaking form.

"Don't. Just, go back outside. I'll stay here. I–I can't be anywhere near any of you," she rambled, eyes wide and glittering with tears.

"It's a house full of magicians, we'll survive." He placed a stack of strawberry pancakes soaked in syrup on the bedside table. "You should eat. That kind of display… you should be exhausted right now. Why aren't you exhausted?" The question he tacked onto the end sounded rhetorical.

Reluctantly, she grabbed the plate just as her stomach growled. She picked at the pancakes before taking a bite. She winced at the taste, the color was too vibrant, too in-your-face. Stephen had definitely not had a hand in making these. He was terrible, but he remembered details like it was no one's business. Swallowing the bite, she put the plate back, wincing. With little warning, Stephen had pulled her hand towards him, a handful of long scratches etched into her palm, like the shattering of the box had recoiled into her hands.

"What? You hurt yourself and you don't say anything?" He tutted under his breath, bringing the other hand to his inspection to find similar scratches.

"Stop."

"I'll have to get the First Aid kit–"

"Loki, stop!"

Stephen frowned, eyes narrowing. "Loki?"

"Loki. Stop. Now."

The Sorcerer stared for another minute, face tight, before the glamour shimmered and faded in its entirety. "How did you know?"

She turned her hands to tap on his palms, held out steadily to hold hers. "He lets them shake when he's focused on something else. And the food was a little too bright."

"I knew I should've asked him to make it." He sighed, shrugging before gesturing for her hands back. "Let's have a look, pet." After a second's hesitation, she returned her hands and left them to his mercy. His magic stung her palms, but she remained still, occasionally sucking air through her teeth at the sensation of rapid healing.

"I thought you didn't like him." She said, out of the blue, but he immediately understood.

"He's been decent enough." He paused for another moment. "I'm also certain there is some sort of cosmic balance that would gravely suffer if that bother of a human is killed.” He waved his hands in a flourish and grinned. “There we go." 

"I'm sorry."

Loki frowned. "What ever for?"

"You guys are supposed to be laying low and recuperating not dealing with a fool with no sense of control."

"No control? Persephone, you wanted to kill Strange."

"Exactly! I–"

"No. You misunderstand me." He leaned down to level their stared. "You wanted to kill Strange. I could see it in your mind but I couldn't break through. You have excellent control. Which is why I had to go for the box and not your mind. I would've had to kill you to break the magic, if I had."

"So, I'm a psychopath?"

He laughed, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "No, dear. You're just very angry at him. I hate to say it, but you might have to talk this through like adults."

Seph frowned. "Have you ever tried to have a conversation with Stephen Strange?"

"Yes. It was painful." He laughed. "He's not unreasonable, though. He's just a bit of a…"

"Control freak?"

He smirked and nodded. "Your adjective is kinder."

"Usually is." The pair glanced over at the door to see Stephen leaning against the frame, arms crossed. "I was always the asshole in the duo."

Seph made an annoyed noise in the back of her throat. "Do none of you knock? Were you all raised in a barn?"

Stephen snorted. "We grew up in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska, where we, quite literally, spent most of our free time in a barn. You're lucky we speak in complete sentences given the public education system here."

"I know your mother taught you how to knock, Stephen Strange."

He rolled his eyes, quickly getting frustrated. "And yours taught you how to be polite. We both failed our mothers, it seems."

Seph's eyes flashed briefly and Loki made a warning noise loud enough to break her out of the glowing trance. "Have you learned nothing, you idiot?" Turning back to her, he smiled. "What he means to say is, memories have made him miserable and pent up all week and it’s making him snarky, but he is ready to give up the torture of having you angry at him."

"I haven't been miserable and pent up." Stephen’s tone was indignant and his chin jutted out defiantly. Loki was there to match his haughty tone with one of his own.

"Oh, so the self-immolation in her name was a coincidence?"

"I wasn't–"

She mouthed the phrase to herself several times, turning it over in her mind. Stephen looked fine, little scratches and scars from attempting to wrangle the other two, aside. Her doctorly instincts were not sounding any alarm bells that usually came on when she suspected any type of self harm. Was he maybe mentally torturing himself? "Self-immola–? Oh my god." She could barely look at either of the men. She definitely did not have to know what any of them got up to in the privacy of their own rooms. "Stephen!"

"I wasn't! Are you seriously listening to him about this?" He defended, though there was a jerky sort of nervousness in his movements and his cheeks blazed red.

Loki mouthed 'he was' at her and Seph covered her face with a pillow because suffocating in the fabric was a better alternative to this conversation. "Midgardians are such prudes, honestly. You're a beautiful woman and what I can presume is a source of comfort to him. He was very respectful of you in his thoughts–"

"How long were you watching me?"

"Long enough to respect your endurance.” Movement caught his attention. “Darling, where are you going?" Seph had thrown herself out of bed and was marching towards her closet, only to find that the door wouldn't budge. Same happened to the main door, en suite, wardrobe, even the drawers in her dresser. She wasn't going anywhere and Loki had made sure that every avenue of escape was unavailable.

Stephen scoffed. "Well, I can still lea–" He patted down his pockets and let out a groan. "Loki!"

"Looking for this?" The god held Stephen's sling ring between his thumb and index. "You can have it back when you've made nice."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I am done being in the middle of conflicts. I didn't like it five hundred years ago and I don't like it now. I detest having to scramble to keep her from killing you. This is the third time this week. Every time you anger her, the response is stronger." Stephen opened his mouth to protest, but Loki marched on. "What happens when her emotion and rage outweigh her control? I barely freed you today. Next time, she will succeed."

The Sorcerer rolled his eyes, ever the dramatic soul. "Yes, tell me how you'll weep."

"It'll barely register in my mind but it will destroy her, Strange!" The men’s argument was catching momentum fast, complete with random pointing in her direction and very colorful expletives.

"Could you not talk about me like I'm not in the room?" She murmured, just as the screaming match between the two started to elevate, scuffing her feet on the ground with a pout.

Loki swallowed the, no doubt acidic, retort he had poised on his tongue. "Apologies, flower. I meant no disrespect." He gave her an encouraging smile, holding his hand out to her. "But this is an issue that must be resolved sooner rather than later." After a moment's hesitation, she slapped her hand into his with a sigh and he chuckled. "Don't seem so enthusiastic."

"It's not about holding your hand–," she defended quickly, her eyes rounding with sadness as she fell back into her spot on the mattress.

"I was kidding, darling." He glanced at the Sorcerer. "Stephen."

"I'm not holding your hand, dude," he retorted instantly.

"Good. I've seen where it's been, I don't want it near me at the moment." Seph giggled quietly and Loki looked extremely pleased with himself at the sound. Stephen frowned, jealousy gnawing at his stomach. "Stop pouting, Strange. It's unbecoming."

"He doesn't deal well with negative emotions. So, he pouts a lot."

"I do not!"

"And denies negative feelings. Acknowledging them means he didn't successfully lock them into a tiny chest, wrapped them in chains and dropped them into the ocean."

"You're making me sound like a sociopath."

Seph fixed him with a raised brow look. "Where's the lie?"

Irritation clouded his speckled blue gaze, expression falling into the bored mask he usually wore. "Alright, this was a mistake. Loki, let me out."

"When's the last time you cried, Stephen?"

"Don't analyze me, Hale." His hissed tone would have intimidated a lesser human, but she remained as passive as ever. 

"It's a simple question, bud. I want to know how irritating you're going to be through this conversation."

"Does it matter?"

"It makes my point. You've always been awful with expressing yourself because you've convinced yourself that whatever asshole mask you put on makes you seem more mature. If you–"

"Match day."

"What?"

"Match day. I haven't really cried since residency match day. We weren't talking and you went off to Chicago and I stayed in New York. That's when I knew I lost you."

Loki leaned into her and asked under his breath. "When was that?"

"Decade and a half ago."

His eyes bugged out at her before turning back to Strange. "Decad–what is wrong with you?"

"You've had ample crying in the last decade and a half, have you?"

"I've had ample crying in the last ten and a half days. What the fuck is broken inside you?"

"Hey! Be nice!" Seph snapped, glaring at the god.

Loki rolled his eyes. "Abandoned you for your powers when you were at your lowest?"

"Oh. Right."

A long pause followed.

"I didn't know how to go back," Stephen admitted quietly. "I stood outside your building for three months. I could never knock. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the look on your face when I blew up at you… I knew I couldn't fix it. I still do."

Despite the ice that flowed through his veins, he couldn’t not stare back at the accusatory glare in her eyes. "I flew back home alone."

"I know."

"I identified her body alone."

"I know."

"I buried her alone. She loved you like you were hers and you didn't show up to her funeral, Stephen. I just…" Tears cut off the rest of her sentence, a sob gripping her throat. After a long while, she sniffled, wiping messily at her face. She chanced a look at him, his expression hard and his left eye twitching the same way it did when he was particularly upset about something. Twenty years and she could still tell when he was shoving his guilt down. "You're the one who leaves her flowers." Seph sighed, thinking about the bouquet of violets that were always there whenever she visited her mother's grave, and the fact that in recent times, it seemed like the visits had risen exponentially. Which made sense, since he could open a portal to the other side of the country at any given time.

He shrugged. "You leave mine flowers, too." He sighed, glancing hard at the floor. "I didn't forget my whole damn life just because you weren't speaking to me, Seph."

"To not have been speaking to you requires an effort for you to speak to me, wouldn't there?"

"She has a point."

"Shut up, Loki."

"Just moderating, Strange."

"I was stupid and scared. I went to you for everything. Feeling happy, feeling sad, stressed–you were the go-to for advice. Ironically, the person I would've asked for advice on how to approach you… was you." He forced a chuckle, feeling ridiculous. "Much like, full disclosure, the person I asked dating advice for was also you."

She cackled. "Yeah. No shit, Sherlock. I asked you what your mystery girl liked and it sounded like you were reading from my diary. You weren't exactly subtle."

"I threw in some bad information."

"You said she might be into girls."

Stephen's mouth flapped open several times before he dragged a hand down his face. "In retrospect, yeah, I pretty much described you, but I wasn't sure if you were into both."

"We went on three separate dates, you just didn't fucking notice!"

"And you were attracted to him?" Loki interrupted, eyes narrowed and looking between the two. "Were there no other options in lovers?"

"Shut up, Loki!" They replied in unison.

Seph smiled sadly, her fingers absently trailing over Loki's in an effort to distract her mind. "I would've forgiven you the second you knocked on my door if you had just apologized and meant it. Not something out of obligation or because I was literally your last resort."

"I'm not good at admitting when I'm wrong. You know that."

"Truly a tragedy, considering you're wrong a lot of the time, even if you swear up and down that you’re right," she teased, sounding like a well-practiced jab.

There was a bit of amusement lighting up Stephen's face. "I get one question wrong on a test, thirty years ago and it's all you ever talk about the rest of our lives."

"I also got a better score than you on the MCAT, so…"

He barked out a laugh. "I hate you so much." The smile slowly melted from his face, leaving behind a passive expression. He felt relaxed, less uptight. Whether that was due to the tension in the air lifting the slightest bit or the fact that he could feel her familiar aura as he had for so much of his life, he didn't know. "I'm really sorry, Peep. Leaving you is a regret I'll take to my grave."

Her nose scrunched at the long-forgotten nickname and shook her head, deciding that she knew better than to tell him to forget that endearment ever existed. "I'm sorry I tried to kill you, I guess. In my defense, you were asking for it."

"That's fair."

"Did I hurt you?"

He smirked. "Crushed my lungs a bit. Nothing permanent." He tilted his head. “Why? Is it going to become a common occurrence?”

Persephone's face clouded. "I don’t know, Stephen. It’s a process. I can’t just–”"

“You can’t just forgive him like nothing happened. He understands.” Loki pinched her cheek playfully, leaving her to bat it away with an irritated pout. "Hold your grudge. Keep it for as long as you need, but don't let it poison you. Stupid things happen when you let grief color your perception."

"Whatever. I promise not to murder him, at the least.” Heavy expression fell on the Asgardian, next. “Also, if you ever use the phrase self-immolate in your name, again, I will punch you in the face. I didn't need to know that."

"I WASN'T!"

"I don't care if you did. I don't want to know while I'm still really pissed at you. Got it?"

Both of the men mumbled a "fine" under their breaths before a collective click resounded around the room. They were free once more. Stephen hesitated at the door, his demeanor giving off the impression that he was building up to say something. Seph watched him expectantly only to have him drop his shoulders and turn on his heel, twisting the doorknob to make a hasty retreat.

"Him? Of all people? Really?"

Seph laughed, rolling her eyes. "He was the boy next door. And he's always been pretty hot."

"You can do better." His voice was smooth and rumbly and made her raise her eyebrows.

"I think you mean I can do worse."

Loki smirked. "Norns, I hope you do."

[mylordshesacactus]

[cracks back] well I just finished the ATLA rewatch so hey, have some further thoughts on that pre-Kyoshi Avatar plotline I’ve been tossing around. Specifically, since you guys appreciated my boy Black Lotus: I had some expanded thoughts about his rescue mission.

Obviously Our Hero--okay this is getting confusing, I gotta give this girl a name. Anyway. She’s had to go on the run after some kind of dramatic event revealed her face to the Firelord’s son as the true Avatar, stole a Fire Nation komodo rhino to get away, etc. Would have had to somehow barter passage on a ship--whatever ship was leaving first--because this girl does NOT have a flying bison.

When she gets there, she...does not exactly march up to the Chieftain of the Northern Water Tribe and announce the return of the true Avatar. She’s hiding. She has to, in order to protect her girl and the baby sister she left behind.

The Firelord’s son knows her face; but at best he has a hazy memory of her being with a random shepherd girl and a kid last time he saw her, and that’s if he remembers their faces at all. She has to trust to the community not to expose the loved ones left behind.

Her trust is not misplaced. No one gives them up.

Water is fire’s natural opposite; she’s not gonna pick up waterbending just be being around waterbenders, I’m afraid. But she’s also probably in pretty bad shape. She had time to heal a bit from whatever confrontation she fled, on the voyage up; but eventually some well-meaning stranger directs her to the local healer’s training school, where she can get healed properly for free.

Team Avatar grows when she meets a young--male--healing student. He’s the one who earns her undying love by casually healing Red and her stolen rhino as well, and they get to talking. Eventually, over the course of several weeks, they talk enough that...Hero catches herself in a lie. 

She speaks a little too freely, or mixes up her cover stories, and her new friend realizes she’s not quite who she claimed to be.

What it is, is she’s trying to simplify her story. She was going to make it out that she had to flee the Fire Nation after she panicked and used bending to defend herself from the Firelord’s son--

(Her waterbender friend picked up on that. She always calls him “the Firelord’s son” when literally everyone else on the planet calls him ‘the Avatar”.)

Anyway, she told the accurate story about earthbending a barrier to interrupt his punishment...to a young man who knows her as a firebender.

He’s also a nerd with access to a library via his healing training. He becomes the research guy. The one who helps her find legends about how previous Avatars discovered powers, contacted spirits, mastered bending in nontraditional ways...the one who proposes that maybe what she’s missing is an animal guide, who explains to her about dragons.

Hero is not out here planning to “master all four elements, defeat the false Avatar, save the world”. She wants to protect the loved ones left behind; she’s nineteen, she’s scared...no one ever asks to be the Avatar. And she doesn’t even know if her partner and little sister are alive.

Bender guy finds a way. She doesn’t know how to enter the spirit world, where she could find out whether her family is safe--but he’s a healer in the Northern Water Tribe. He knows where they can go to find out.

The koi fish help her bridge the gap, and she enters the spirit world and starts looking. That’s when, drawn by powerful energy and discord, she finds the dragon. She had actually been warned by her friend to avoid dragons at all costs while in the spirit world; they’re powerful creatures with spiritual connections to Avatars and he’s not sure whether or not one might be able to see her.

Something about it is...wrong. She approaches anyway.

She learns then why he hasn’t abandoned the false Avatar--and why the Firelord’s son never rides his “animal guide”.

Black Lotus is bound, chains invisible in the physical world--spirit bonds, pulsing and liquid with horrific, powerful corrupted spirit energy. They’re mostly in the spirit world, where no amount of struggling by the black dragon will do any good; but “phased” just enough into the physical world to hold him. He can’t spread his wings. His tail is pinioned. He can’t stand fully. He can open his mouth, barely, enough to drink.

She came here to locate her family, not declare war on the false Avatar.

The spirits--and her waterbender friend, when she drops back to her own body briefly to report--are sickened but tell her that this abomination can’t be destroyed, even by the ones who created the chains. They can’t be reached fully from the spirit world, because they’re half in the physical realm; but from the physical realm they can’t be detected, because they’re half in the spirit world.

If she even tries, and trying will do no good, there is no way the monster who created these chains won’t sense it. She cannot try to help without revealing herself, and if she’s attacked in the spirit world, she can’t bend.

Of course she frees him. Of course she sacrifices the chance to see her family in order to do it. And of course it works--she’s the Avatar. She’s the bridge. She can touch both worlds.

She pulls Black Lotus into the spirit world via that connection. She tries to talk to him, assumes he’s her animal guide, not understanding--through a brief, regretful contact, a momentary brush of his nose against her forehead, he communicates only that he’s grateful--but she means nothing to him.

They are, in fact, attacked in the spirit world. Lotus hesitates, clearly bound to stay--and she gives him permission to save himself. 

He takes it. She does not blame him; he’s weak, traumatized, terrified, and he never intended to bind himself to the Avatar. He was taken unwilling because he was strong and scary, and all he ever wanted was to be free.

Healer buddy I think is able to realize, through fluctuations in her body’s energy, that she’s being attacked; we get commentary from him, cutting back and forth with the battle in the spirit world. Finally the rapid-fire cuts culminate in him noting that she can’t bend, but--she’s used to not being able to bend properly. She had to hide while she was in the Fire Nation; this isn’t so different. Come on, Hero. You can do this--

(He knows she can’t hear him. That’s not the point.)

Come on, Hero. You can do this. What would you normally do, if you were attacked and you couldn’t bend? You can take this guy. If you couldn’t risk bending--

In the spirit world, Our Hero, pinned and helpless, reflexive: “Red, take him!”

It is not physically possible for her dog to hear her, let alone follow. Love doesn’t work that way. Red has never in her life failed to come when her Avatar called.

Black Lotus will come back someday--in his own time, when he’s healed, when it’s a decision he makes freely. Not in payment of a debt, and not out of guilt.

There was....a bit of a light show, when Our Hero and Red the roosterdog supercharged their spirit bond to a degree that will become a legend in and of itself on the shores of the most spiritually powerful location in the world. 

Hiding the fact that the Avatar’s possibly not actually sitting in the Royal Palace just got a lot harder.

But there’s still Reasons to hide it. In all likelihood--throughout this first season with the spyjinks in the Fire Nation capital, there’s evidence of a massive conspiracy. The team of highly-specialized bodyguards the Firelord’s son keeps around him, two of each kind of bender and all capable of bending at a distance and with minimal movements, to sell the illusion, is damning enough--but that level of horrific spirit work is not bought. That was not a mercenary. This is big.

I think I accidentally set up a plot where the endgame is the formation of the White Lotus, specifically to ensure the Avatar’s identity is never coopted like this again.

Anyway, the point is, they need to Fucking Skedaddle. Bender kid absolutely is not supposed to be at the spirit pool either, let alone fucking around in a manner that causes massive beams of energy to light up the goddamn hemisphere. So he can’t stay behind and make her excuses.

They escape together, and head for the Earth Kingdom. End of Book 1.

[visual-explorxtion]

Murder for One - One Shot

Summary: They found their way back to where the nightmare began. The Oswell E Spencer mansion. But things took a wrong turn. Chris has been murdered. And it’s up to the gang to track down his murderer.

A/N: I wanted to write a short murder mystery but I kept emphasising a lot of things so it turned out a bit longer than I’ve intended. Also been rewatching Twin Peaks so I was kinda inspired by it.

Word count: 2.3K

11:55 pm, June 14th, Oswell E Spencer's mansion.

A moonless night, just like many of the others, is a deadly premonition. BANG! The thunder roared and the split of lightning flashed that lit up the rustic library in a blink of an eye, then shrouded by darkness once more. The only light source is the lone fireplace, located on the far side of the room. The firewood crackled.

Chris is dead.

Nobody came in or out of this mansion. Except for our four little suspects: Leon S Kennedy, an American Agent working under the government; Jill Valentine, former S.T.A.R.S member and current Special Ops Agent in the BSAA; Claire Redfield, a member of TerraSave; Carlos Oliveira, former UBCS and mercenary. The four stood looking down at the corpse, the light behind their eyes extinguished along with the life of their former friend.

2 hours earlier:

Chris was sent out by HQ to investigate further about a new strain of the virus being created in the Spencer's mansion. Of course, this was all tipped by an anonymous caller. HQ should've known better. This mission was a quick data retrieval, but the rest of the group got worried when Chris hasn't returned after an hour has passed. As soon as they've received the news, the four of them came rushing to the scene of the crime. Inside, they found Chris lying cold on the oak wood flooring. Upon further investigation, they can pinpoint that Chris: took a hard blow to the head, visible strangle marks around his neck and several stab wounds in the general area of the torso. All of these could be the fatal cause of Chris's death. There was no sign of intruders or breaking of any locks which means, the killer's only access is the front door.

"Who could've done such a thing?" Claire sniffles.

"I'll contact HQ and see if we could get some back-up and analysis going." Leon tampers with his phone. "Shit, can't get a signal here."

Jill took a quick glance at Claire then focused on Chris's lifeless body, she sighs. "This isn't right. There's no blood around the corpse." she contemplates for a moment. "...which means, the murdering didn't happen in this room. Alright, let spread out and see what we can find." They nod, each set off in different directions. Claire and Carlos scout the ground floor while Leon and Jill tread lightly along the first floor. Strong wind clatter the decade-old windows and echos through the hallway, making a ghastly sound. Jill swallows. Mansions give her the creeps and often unfond memories. The upper hallway split into three separate doorways; one lead to a bathroom, another is a decorated study and lastly is the dust-coated master bedroom.

"I'll go check out the study." Leon declared, she gave an approving nod and both head on to their chosen destination, flashlight in hand. The doorknob is rusted, giving it several twists then it groaned open. The bedroom is grim with a dampened smell, furniture covered in white sheets. If this doesn't scream creepy, Jill ain't sure what else would. The beam of light continues to shine on showing nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly, torch caught something reflective, just shying away behind the edge of the bed frame. Jill grasp the object for a closer inspection to reveal a candle holder, decaying away with time. Bingo! Bloodstains. The red liquid also seeped along the skirt of the white covers. Is this...the scene of the crime?

"Jill!" Leon cries out in distress.

The murder weapon clanked against the wooden floor. Jill sprinted in full speed towards the study only to find Leon hunched over the rows of bookshelves.

"Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" she pants.

"Come take a look at this." he reaches out his hand.

Jill frowns. "But this is Chris's knife...Why would it be here?"

"This could be where Chris got murdered. Look, there's blood splatter across here." The crimson fluid trailed its way near the bookcase. "This can't be right...if this is the murder weapon... Wait!" Jill turned on her heels and marched farther along the hallway. She managed to pry open the last door which unveiled the unkempt bathroom, the scene mirrors the other rooms. "As I thought."

"But...this doesn't make any sense." Leon's face scrunched upon looking at its interior. The third murder weapon. A rope loosely hanging from the shower curtain rail, blood tainted the hemp thread. Must be caused by the friction against Chris's skin which broke the outer layer of the tissue.

"Leon! Jill!" Carlos's voice roared halfway across the place.

They both gave a knowing look to one another before heading off to the foyer. Claire and Carlos stood with an unsettling look on their faces.

"I think...we've found what may have killed Chris..." they both pulled out a blood-stained object. A kitchen knife and a porcelain vase. Sadness filled their eyes as they both averted their gaze away from the weapons.

"No...it's impossible. This getting more confusing by the minute." Leon huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What do you mean? These two must be the murder weapon. The bloodstains can't lie." Claire frustrates over Leon's remarks and stood her ground.

"We found more objects like this upstairs, stained with blood, each in different rooms," Leon explains.

Jill sighs, rubbing her temple with her index finger. "Let's just...go back to the library and calmly figure this out."

"Maybe if we reenact it out, we can decode this mystery." an idea struck Carlos. Leon pats his arm before shuffling back to along the route to the library.

The temperature hasn't changed at all since they left, still cold and bitter. Chris, still laying as dead as ever, being kept warm by the fireplace. Something caught Jill's eye, an envelope, seated on top of the mantelpiece with words written in cursive. 'Open me, when the truth is revealed'. She turns the letter over. But, there were no names or any seal marks.

"Hey, was this here before?" her voice sounded quizzical.

Carlos frowns, "I don't think so...Why? What's the matter?"

Jill shakes her head. "No, it doesn't matter. Let's just focus the matter at hand right now."

The grandfather clock chimed and made the group jump. 1 am...it's been 4 hours since Chris's death, but they aren't getting any closer to catching the killer. Jill starts picking at her fingers.

"Something's off...Nobody else knows Chris is here, except us. This was a solo mission. So that means...one of us did it." Jill said, out of speculation. She's never wrong about a hunch, even if that deduction was a bold one.

"Wait, what do you mean one of us? All of us have an alibi. We were with each other for the past few hours." the sound of Leon's voice warns her that she's treading on thin ice.

"Yes, but there's a two-hour window when the murder happened. And neither one of us has proof of our alibi in the time gap."

Tension is rising in the room. Indeed, this is a huge accusation. But Jill can't just stand aside and let the murderer walk free with bloodshed on their hands, let alone with her best friends blood.

"I have an alibi," Claire spoke out. "I was stuck on the highway on my way to Chris's place and I stopped by Krispy Kreme too."

"Well, I shared a ride with Jill this whole time. She'd know if I went missing for even a split second. And before that, I was with a friend. They can prove it." Carlos raised his hand.

"Leon?" Claire asks.

Leon mumbled quietly. None of his words was audible. "You're gonna have to speak up." He let out a huge sigh. "I said, I was at the bar. Just trying to get drunk. There. Ya happy now?"

Something still doesn't feel right. Jill knew that deep down, one of them is lying. "No. This isn't it."

"What do you mean 'this isn't it'? We all have an alibi, so it's not us." Carlos grunts.

"What about you Jill? Where were you before meeting up with Carlos?" Claire's words pressed up against Jill.

"I was working overtime, finishing off some paperwork at the office."

"Was there anyone else at the office with you?"

"No...no there wasn't. Everyone already left for the day and I was the only one." Jill bites her lip.

"Oh, God. D-did you...did you kill my brother? But why? I thought you two went through everything together!" tears start spilling down Claire's cheeks.

"No! It's not me! What reason have I got for me to kill Chris? He's my best friend. What will I gain from that?!" Jill's stomach churns, even she's starting to doubt herself. Wait a minute…

Leon wraps his arms around Claire's shoulders to comfort her emotions, his head trying to get around the words that he just heard, but his feelings are numbed at this moment.

A snicker reverberates the empty library. The lightning stopped about an hour ago, silence fills the air around them. Gradually, the snicker became a period of giggles.

"Y'know, you almost had me fooled. All this time, I thought something doesn't feel quite right. Why all the different murder weapons? And why spread them apart in the mansion? I couldn't figure it out...Even I've started to doubt myself, maybe I had a hand in pushing Chris's death. But I soon realise, all that gibberish was just a smokescreen!" She picks up the envelope and peeks at its content. "As I thought exactly. The truth."

The three of them looked at Jill with a quizzical look painted on their faces.

"Yes, they are all murder weapons. They did play a part in Chris's death, but they were only induced AFTER he got murdered!" she waltzes towards Leon, holding out a hand. "Leon, if you please." His brain whirred for a moment before he knew what Jill was talking about. He placed the object in her hand per her request.

"This is the true murder weapon." Jill presented Chris's combat knife. " The actual weapon that caused the fatal blow. Isn't that right, Claire?"

Claire's eyes widen in horror. "Are you out of your mind?! How could I have killed my own brother? I have an alibi."

Carlos exhaled. "She's right. It couldn't be her."

Jill cackled. "That's what I thought at first. But, something you said made me reconsider. 'The bloodstains can't lie'. Why are you so sure about that? You and Carlos only searched the lower part of the mansion, so why are you so sure that there were bloodstains on EVERY object when we only took the vital one?"

Claire kept her head down, looking at her feet, her shoulders shivering.

"As for the alibi, I have solid proof that you did it." Jill grins. "You said you were stuck on the highway. You weren't wrong. Travelling from your apartment to Chris's will require you to take a long journey, the only way is to drive on the highway. But! From your apartment to the mansion, you do not need to get on the highway. And the mansion to Chris's place is only a short drive so you have enough time to murder Chris, plan all the objects and the bloodstains and you still have time to spare. Of course, if somebody was to kill Chris, he would immediately defeat them without breaking a sweat. But what if that person knows him well and is someone he trusts wholeheartedly? Then, the circumstance would be much different." Jill takes a deep breath. "You've planned everything perfectly but you've missed the most important and intricate detail."

"And what is that?" she asks.

"The bookcase. When Chris was looking through the documents, you killed him there and then, using his own knife. Everything in that room was built with glazed wood so the cleaning up shouldn’t have taken so long. But, you forgot about the bookcase. Specks of blood were left on the hinges." she exhales. "Oh! And there's a new Krispy Kreme that just opened two blocks away from his place. I know because he took me there last week."

Claire's sniffing stopped. Her gaze remained on the ground. A soft hum came out of her mouth, slowly it turned into a giggle and lead to a burst of bellowing laughter.

"Well, colour me impressed. So what if I killed my own brother, hm?" She skipped her way toward his corpse. "The killing was quick. But the cleaning up! That took a whole hour!"

"You're sick. That's your brother."

"And what about it? Maybe he should have done what I told him not to do. Maybe then, he'd still be alive. Who told him to eat the last chicken nugget? It was mine! But he didn't listen to me. HE SHOULD HAVE LISTENED!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" A voice boomed as the door opens.

"Chris???" They said in unison.

Chris stare at them and sigh. The group sitting gathered around the coffee table in Chris's new apartment playing Cluedo at 1 in the morning. Jill and Claire having a go at each other's throats, Carlos sitting comfortably watching as this goes down and Leon's been on his phone for the past 5 minutes.

"But it was just getting good. We've just revealed who murdered you." Claire gave him the sad puppy eyes.

"Why am I the one getting murdered? Can't you use the default characters?" Chris frowns. "Also, do you want me to get kicked out again? This is my housewarming party and I don't want to receive any noise complaint as a housewarming gift. Now, tidy up. The pizzas' getting cold."

The four of them obeyed his command obediently, setting up the table for the awaited pizzas. Claire waltz her way towards the kitchen, just next to the dining table. "Hey! Who ate the last doughnut?"

Chris's face drained to a pale shade of gray. Discreetly, he backed out of the room, tip-toeing stealthily. Fist clenched as Claire raged. "CHRIS!"

[alj4890]

None But You

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) in a regency era romance as requested by @pixieferry​​

A/N *squeal* We are getting so close to the wedding. Things are moving along better than I hoped with these characters. I love it when that happens. Sigh. But just as happiness awaits, so does that one other thing...evil intent. Yes, Duke Viktor Montmarte is still very much a part of this story.

@graceful-popcorn   @krsnlove   @alleksa16   @hopelessromantic1352    @pixieferry   @emceesynonymroll   @buzz-bee-buzz   @hopefulmoonobject    @rainbowsinthestorm   @lxaah11   @my-heart-beats-for-ya @everythingmarvelsherlockspn @friedherringclodthing   @aworldoffandoms   @ab1901   @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​  

Masterlist

Summary: The traveling party arrive at Kirkwood Manor. Thomas spends a pleasant afternoon showing Amanda around her new home. Lord Ryan is a bit perplexed about his feelings for Lady Millie. And we see what our villain has in store for the engaged pair.

Chapter 13

"Welcome home, my lord." Thomas' butler, bowed him and his traveling party into the foyer.

"Thank you, Berger." Thomas introduced him to Amanda.

The middle aged butler stoic façade eased as he bowed to her. "Welcome to Kirkwood Manor, my lady. On behalf of the staff, we wish you every happiness for your upcoming wedding."

"Thank you." Amanda smiled at him. "I look forward to getting to know you and the rest of the staff."

Thomas asked for refreshments to be brought to the drawing room.

"Perhaps someone could show Lord Summers to his room." Millie spoke up. "The journey has been quite difficult with his wound."

Ryan gritted his teeth. "I'll be fine. I just need a moment of not being jostled all over Creation."

Berger quickly called for a footman to take the wounded man upstairs.

"Do you need me to help you?" Millie whispered.

He shook his head, lips curving in a brief smile. "I'm certain Lady Bridgerton will wish to talk wedding plans. I will be fine for a few hours." He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss. "Thank you for all that you have done."

She watched him ascend the stairs, worried at how he leaned against the bannister for assistance.

"Millie, dear." Her mother waved her toward the drawing room. "We have much we must take care of before the wedding."

"Coming Mamma." She checked over her shoulder to make certain he made it upstairs safely and continued on to join her parents and friends.

*****************

A few hours of planning later, Amanda managed to escape when Thomas expressed his wish to show her his home.

Lady Lucy couldn't help but chuckle at the pleading look on her niece's face. "Be off with you now. I can already tell that neither one of you will be able to keep your mind on anything else."

The young lady pressed a kiss to her aunt's cheek and happily left with her intended.

With each room he took her to, he shared a piece of his childhood or family history. She laughed at his humorous stories, while admiring the home that was now to be hers.

Here was where she would bear and raise their children, watch them grow up, and hopefully see the next generation of Hunt's that followed them.

"I spend most of my time in here." Thomas opened a door to the manor's library.

He watched her closely as she walked around the room, her fingers trailing the many leather-bound spines.

Her eyes touched on the different sections he had his books divided in. Philosophy, Botany, Nautical History...she paused at one near the large cherry wood desk. An entire case was filled with novels.

He stopped behind her and pulled a book off the shelf. With a quick flip, he opened it to the last chapter.

Her eyebrow lifted while she fought her smile at the memory of first meeting him in a London bookshop.

"See here, sir. You are ruining each story you pick up!" She tried to mimic how gruff his voice had been a few months ago. "Why are you only reading the final chapter?"

Thomas felt a warmth within him at her remembering his first words to her, even if they did reveal his temper. He repeated her own words said to him so long ago. "For a very simple reason, Miss. I prefer certain types of endings in stories. The only way to ensure such is to read the last chapter of books that have been recommended to me."

Her eyes widened at his memory of her argument.

She recalled his eyes narrowing at her and mimicked the action as she continued their beginning. "Can you not simply read what is recommended without spoiling it for yourself?" Her lips twitched with her need to laugh. "Dash it all! People spend months to years creating such for someone to enjoy. They do not do so to be judged solely by the final chapter!"

Thomas set the book back on the shelf and wrapped his arms around her. He repeated the question she first asked him. "Did you write this?"

Her arms looped around his neck. "I did not."

He pressed a long, gentle kiss to her lips. "Then you, Miss, have no right to be offended."

Her laughter was muffled by his next kiss.

"Who knew that would be the beginning of all this?"

"I should have known then that you were going to be the one to turn all my preconceived notions upside down from that initial argument."

"True. But what did you think of me?" She asked, caressing his cheek. "It must have been favorable for you to appear at Almacks."

"Though I thought you quite pretty, it was our conversation that won me." Thomas explained. "I was not used to encountering an intelligent lady."

"Then I am very grateful for a lack of education amongst ladies of the ton." She guided his lips back to hers. "For you sir, captured my attention from the very beginning."

He softly groaned as their kiss grew in passion. He reluctantly ended it to finish showing her about. "I want you to feel free to come in here whenever you wish." He set her hand within the bend of his arm. "I know some gentlemen refuse access to what they consider their domains, but I would enjoy discussing books with you or simply being able to glance up from my desk and see you reading or sewing near the fireplace."

"I think we will spend a good deal of our time in there." She squeezed his arm. "Thank you, my love, for welcoming to your home. I already feel myself growing attached to it."

He led her upstairs to show her the bedrooms. "You feeling at home here is one of my most desired wishes."

"One?" She looked up at him. "What else do you wish for?"

His lips curved. "Our wedding."

"That's less than two weeks away." She pointed out.

"And I am grateful for such." Thomas paused outside the bedrooms meant for the viscount and viscountess of Kirkwood. "But it still cannot come soon enough to suit me."

He opened the door and smiled at her gasp of delight.

"Thomas! This is beautiful." She stepped into the set of rooms that made up the viscountess' bedroom. He explained that he had it redecorated with what he hoped pleased her.

The walls were adorned with vivid paintings of landscapes around the manor. With so many windows having views of the ocean, the rest of the room was done in blues and whites. She trailed a hand along a small escritoire he had made specifically for her. Paper and ink wells were set at the ready for any letters she would wish to write.

The bed was plush with numerous pillows embroidered with blue flowers.

Everywhere she turned there was some little thing that he had insisted on to make this room perfect.

Thomas waited patiently near the connecting door as she explored the bathing chamber and wardrobe.

"Amanda?" His tone held a hint of hesitancy.

She twirled around. "Yes?"

He opened the doors. "This leads to my bedroom."

Color bloomed on her cheeks as she stepped into his personal quarters.

His room continued with the landscape paintings though these were more of the wooded areas near Kirkwood. Golden oak wood dominated the furniture. Rich shades of green and brown were used for the bedding and cushions on the chairs.

It was just as inviting as her room.

"Amanda, I..."

She turned toward him and noticed the flush creeping up his neck. "Is something wrong? You're not unwell, are you?"

"No. It is merely that I hope you," he grimaced at his foolishness for wanting her with him as much as she allowed. He knew it wasn't typical of members of the ton to do so, but he never really worried about their trends.

"Thomas?" She reached out for his hand.

"I want this room to be yours too." He searched her eyes for understanding.

Her brow furrowed. "You want me to have both chambers?"

"No. I mean, yes." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I hope you wish, are willing, to share this chamber with me every night." His eyes widened at how that might sound. "Not that I expect you to, er, perform your--rather, I," he cursed, causing her eyes to widen even more. "Forgive me. I wish for you and I to sleep together each night regardless of any intimacy occurring."

Her lips curved. "Then I will."

He blinked. "You don't mind?"

A slight blush bloomed on her cheeks. "I have enjoyed these past nights of being near you while I slept." She averted her eyes. "I think they will be even better once we are married."

"They will be." He vowed.

Her lips parted when he yanked her against him, kissing her with a preview of the passion he intended to unleash on their wedding night.

She could do nothing but hold onto his shoulders throughout the exchange.

His lips tenderly brushed hers as he spoke. "I have asked that all your things be brought up here and stored in your room. It can be used however you wish." He moaned when she kissed him. "But if there is anything you want to keep in here, then please feel free to do so."

"Thank you." She murmured.

******************

That evening, Lord Ryan joined them all for dinner. His color had improved and he swore he was feeling much better now that he was not being, "bumped about England."

He even encouraged Millie to take a walk in the night air with him.

He hadn't considered though to have not only Amanda and Thomas as chaperones, but also Chris and Matthew.

The first two he didn't worry about, considering Thomas was most likely going to take his lady off somewhere shrouded in shadows.

Sadly the two gentlemen who were sadly losing the moniker of friends was also tagging along. Since Thomas had decided to settle down with his love, Chris and Matthew were ready to help hurry along Ryan's courtship with Millie.

Ryan considered himself a gentleman with an excellent sense of humor. He was one of the few lords among the ton who was intelligent enough to know when not to take life too seriously.

Much to his chagrin, this wasn't such a time.

He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about Lady Millicent Rawlings. When he all but heard her admit to Ms. Fontaine that she was in love with him, his view of her had changed.

It had sharpened with a clarity that he had yet to experience with any other young lady.

What was he to do? He believed much like his misguided friend that marriage was not for him. Not for a very long time. Yet, no sooner had those words been spoken than Thomas pursued the one he had won.

"Good lord." Ryan muttered with the thought. "It can't be."

"Did you say something?" Millie asked.

"Er. No." He quickly replied. "Nothing of import."

His hopes that she wouldn't question him were met.

If only he had wished the same for the ones on their heels.

"He said Good lord, followed by, It can't be." Chris readily answered.

Ryan could all but hear the smug smile the young man must have on his face.

How he longed to be the type of gentleman that was well-trained in pugilism.

He decided right then that he would begin attending sessions at Gentlemen Jack's as soon as be was back in London. Then he would know exactly how to punch friends in the face without causing serious damage.

Oh yes. It would be worth it.

"Makes one wonder what can't be, doesn't it, Lady Millie?" Matthew spoke up in a cheerful tone.

"It does." She admitted. "Though if Lord Summers doesn't wish to share what it is then I shan't be the one to pressure him."

Good lord, she was making him fall in love.

This won't do. It was one thing for her to feel deeply for him but quite another for him to reciprocate such emotion.

"How are you feeling?" She asked softly. "Are you certain you are up to a long walk?"

"I'm fine." He managed.

"No doubt he is in need of romantic moonlight." Chris loudly whispered between the couple.

"Shouldn't you go trail Hunt and Lady Amanda?" Ryan snapped. "If anyone needs to be kept an eye on then it is them.

"Perhaps." Matthew conceded. "But they are already settled. Chris and I have decided that we want to see all we care about also so happily shackled in the bonds of matrimony."

"Shackled?!" Millie gasped. "I never!"

Ryan took a cautious step away from her. If anyone deserved her temper it was the ones behind them. The only way they could be worse is if they were two matchmaking mothers on the prowl for the highest title and fortune in the land.

"Now Millie," Chris smiled warmly at her. "We only want the best for you."

"There's no finer man in England, that is free of romantic entanglements, than Lord Ryan." Matthew added. "If I had a sister, I would push her in his path at every opportunity in the hopes he would take her."

"Take her?!" Millie stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms, glaring at the two men

"What about me?" Chris demanded. "Why wouldn't you push your sister upon me?"

"Push?!" Millie sputtered.

"You must be having trouble hearing tonight." Chris grumbled before turning back to his friend. "Why wouldn't Lady Rodriguez be pressed upon me?"

"First off," Matthew replied, "there is no Lady Rodriguez. Second," he gestured silently toward Ryan and Millie.

"Oh good grief." Millie rolled her eyes. "I think that is enough ridiculousness for one night." She gathered her shawl tighter about her shoulders. "I bid you all a goodnight."

"I'll escort you back." Ryan reached out and grasped her elbow. "Goodnight gentlemen."

"'Night." The two chuckled at having gotten them to finally go off alone.

"Idiots." Millie muttered.

"Indeed." Ryan replied.

Millie chewed nervously on her bottom lip. "My lord?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you mean by saying, it can't be?"

He softly groaned. He should have known she wouldn't let the matter drop.

"It is nothing. Just a passing thought."

She tilted her head and studied his profile. "Oh."

He grit his teeth at the sound of dejection he could hear in her voice. "Oh what?"

"Nothing, just oh." She responded.

"Your oh's rarely mean nothing. So what did it mean?!" He demanded.

"I beg your pardon." She huffed. "I wasn't aware you and I were anything special that allows you to demand explanations to my words and thoughts."

"Millie." He practically growled.

"Don't you take that tone with me, Ryan Summers! I don't care what lofty title you hold. I refuse to acknowledge such brutish behavior." She let go of his arm and hurried ahead of him. "Your escort is no longer appreciated or needed, sir."

"Oh no you don't!" Ryan's long legged stride caught up to her quickly. He grabbed her arm and swung her back around.

The momentum had the pair crashing against each other. Millie's gasp brushed his lips, causing his own to part in surprise.

All the irritation disappeared when he cupped her face. Her eyes met his right before the two met in an impassioned kiss.

Her hands lifted to his cheeks, gently holding him in place as their kiss came to a slow end.

Ryan's breath was ragged. "Millie, I think I'm in--"

They jerked apart when they heard Amanda's laughter coming closer to them.

"Ready to go in?" Thomas asked when they saw them..

"Yes, of course." Millie tugged her shawl up over her shoulders.

She set her hand on Ryan's arm as they followed the couple.

Matthew and Chris appeared behind them.

"I look forward to more treks while we are here. Don't you Lady Millie? Chris teased.

She narrowed her eyes at him, causing his smile to be even more unrepentant.

****************

A private room in a tavern near Kirkwood Manor...

"I believe the best time will be during all the confusion of getting to the church." Charles explained. "What do you think, your grace?"

Viktor slowly nodded to his valet's recommendations. "I agree." His eyes then lifted to his coachman. "And you John?"

"After what I viewed of the viscount's activities, then I think the moment he departs for the wedding will be the best opportunity to take the lady." He replied, feeling quite uneasy with such a devious plan.

"Hmm." Viktor took a long sip of his brandy. "I suppose I should be glad they didn't issue me an invitation. Imagine how much awkward that would be."

He chuckled at the thought of Lord Hunt's face when he found out his bride was not coming. How he wished he could witness it when he discovered she had run off with a better man. But, his being the better man in this scenario meant he would have to miss it.

After all, he couldn't be at Kirkwood and on the Great North Road at the same time. Not when he had his own elopement to attend to. Gretna Green would be the final slap to Lord Hunt's pride.

Who knows? Along that long dark road to Scotland, he might very well tire of the Lady Amanda and leave her for the highway men. After a sample of her body, he could be magnanimous to those less fortunate.

His lips curved at his plan becoming even more clearer in his mind.

[toastedtoadstool]

Toadstool Reviews

Happily Ever After Fairy Tales for Every Child s03e01: "The Three Little Pigs"

Content Warnings: Eating Disorder, Food, Diet Culture

I'd put a cut here but they seem to be broken again. Sorry about that.

Season Three, Episode One is not an intuitive place to begin a series of reviews, but when I asked my wife what fairy tale they wanted to watch, they named "The Three Little Pigs," so here we are. I spent countless hours watching this show as a child and remember many episodes fondly, some not-so-fondly, and some not at all. This one fell into the first category, and if I had to rank favorite episodes from memory, it's likely in my top three. It's just so ridiculous and fun, and even if the attempts at social commentary were ham-handed, they certainly got my child brain to think about questions like, "Who decides what is beautiful?" and "Why should I let other people tell me how I should look/be?"

Loretta Lynn does an excellent Dolly Parton impersonation as Deli Porkchop, retired country singer turned girl's camp theme park proprietor, singing about "eating gourmet slop" at her new Camp Piggywood. Right off, there is an astonishing amount of animated ham presented as food, along with pork-based food puns galore. Pigs are omnivores, and will definitely eat other pigs if given the chance, so that's not impossible. The likely explanation here was that the animators just used some food models that had on hand and didn't think too hard about how weird it is to tell a story about how it's bad to eat pigs but also portray pigs as food, but this can be twisted into some delightfully dark conclusions; namely, a society in which ruling class pigs eat the pigs of an unseen underclass but simultaneously deny canids the same access to commercial meats, forcing the eponymous Big Bad Wolf, voiced by Sinbad, to turn to eating the rich.

The three Little Pigs who attend her "Camp Piggywood" each encapsulate a specific social commentary. The first is a lonely rich girl whose covetous nature drives away potential close relationships. She builds her house of gemstones and stolen bejeweled pig-wigs, attracting the attention of the Big Bad Wolf and putting all of her new friends in danger. Her aesop is pretty straightforward and has aged plenty well. Spoiled and rich is a good way to become isolated and alone when you can't related to other people.

Next is a former supermodel pig who has lost the discipline to maintain her figure and slimmed down in a society which values enormous girth and appetite, an inverse of the diet culture in which it was produced. She builds her house out of sweets, then sits on a marshmallow bed eating celery and ranch. Everything she does to mirror real-world diet behavior is a cause for worry on the part of the people who care about her. Unfortunately, this inversion doesn't carry off as well as was intended, since it's ultimately just the same old toxic body talk pointed in the opposite direction.

The third little pig is our scholarship student, the only glimpse given into the possible underclass of pigs who become food the earlier food animations implied. Orphaned, homeless, and extremely competent in pig-pun martial arts, she sensibly builds her house out of recycled tire bricks. Unfortunately, she also willingly follows the wolf home when he tells her he's already captured her two friends. Predictably she frees her friends and beats up the wolf, only for Deli Porkchop to arrive just as they've finished tying up the wolf in typical Adults Are Useless fashion. The wolf is banished to a Pigloo atop Mount Everest to answer fan mail for Deli as penance, and they all lived happily ever after.

This episode holds up about as well as I expected it to, though the opening credits were disappointing--I'd blocked out my memory of this horrible wobbly hell lamp off the ceiling of the Pagemaster's library bellydancing to the opening theme music. Why is it on a blank white background? Did they run out of budget for reanimating an opening sequence that was already stellar, or was the executive who pushed this change secretly Mothman, inexorably drawn to the call of the lämp? The world may never know.

[thecomicsnexus]

BATMAN: WHITE KNIGHT #1-8 DECEMBER 2017 - JULY 2018 BY SEAN MURPHY AND MATT HOLLINGSWORTH

SYNOPSIS (FROM WIKIPEDIA)

Batman corners Joker in a pharmaceutical warehouse, beating him excessively as Nightwing, Batgirl, and the GCPD look on in horror. Joker boasts that medication would let him do more good than Batman, prompting Batman to force a bottle of pills down Joker's throat. With a recording of the beating leaking and the Batmobile causing huge collateral damage, debate is sparked over whether Batman is doing more harm than good. Barbara and Dick learn Bruce's violence stems from Alfred being near death, kept alive only by Freeze Tech. Joker, now stable and using his real name Jack Napier, wins a case against GCPD for insufficient evidence and for non-intervention in his beating.

Freed, Napier visits Harley Quinn, who attacks him and insists he's not himself. Saved by a second Harley, Napier learns she is the original but was replaced: with Joker's obsession culminating in Jason Todd's torture, Quinzel left to try and help Batman save Todd, and was replaced when Joker unwittingly adopted an obsessed hostage named Marian Drews. Bruce and Victor Fries develop a treatment for cryogenic illnesses. Despite not being fully tested, Fries attempts to resuscitate Nora; anticipating this, Wayne hooks the system up to Fries' suit, curing him but aging him to his natural elderly state. Running for councilman, Napier funds construction of a library in poor district Backport and befriends Duke Thomas, an ex-GCPD officer who runs a local youth group. Meanwhile, Bruce discovers that many of his fellow billionaires have been profiting off of Batman by purchasing properties destroyed by Batman's battles and then flipping them after the city repairs them; Bruce is left shaken by this discovery. Using the Mad Hatter's tools to control Clayface, Napier gives Gotham's Rogues Gallery drinks secretly laced with his dust to control them by proxy.

Making the villains rampage across the city, Napier uses the distraction to access restricted documents and discovers a tax fund for Batman's collateral damage. In an attempt to move the villains to a less-populated area, Batman baits them into attacking Backport and Napier's library, thinking that they wouldn't attack a property owned by the Joker; the villains proceed to damage Backport and raze the library. Injured when Napier's library crumbles, Bruce later collapses at Alfred's bedside; waking to find himself stabilized on Alfred's life-support, Bruce finds Alfred dead in the bedside chair. Dick and Barbara discuss whether to intervene in Bruce's developing obsession in convicting Napier.

Drews, now Neo Joker, recovers the Clayface's remains, taking the Rogues Gallery into her control. When Batman intervenes in his protest, Napier goes willingly to GCPD. Warning he knows of the collateral fund, he offers to reallocate it to GCPD as councilman, giving Gotham a culpable Batman equivalent known as the GTO - the Gotham Terrorism Oppression unit.

Neo Joker attacks the GCPD, prompting Gordon to side with Napier and place an APB on Batman. Batman asks Quinzel for help taking down Napier, convinced he's pulling a long con; Quinzel refuses, certain Napier is legitimate. Bested by the GTO, which has recruited Duke, Nightwing and Batgirl and has built their own makeshift Batmobiles, Batman is arrested by Napier. Neo Joker uses a revealed superweapon to freeze Gotham harbor, demanding she be given Joker. Earlier, Bruce discovered Thomas Wayne funded Fries Sr. to create Freeze-Tech, circumventing US laws by tunneling under Gotham's German embassy; Fries Sr. later cut ties with Thomas to build the superweapon against his wishes.

Napier's medication becomes ineffective, making him periodically revert into Joker. Napier frees Batman, asking for help stopping Neo Joker in exchange for a confession (provided Quinzel isn't arrested). Napier, Batman and the GTO organize an assault on the freeze ray, piloting a fleet of Batman's Batmobiles. During the assault, Napier attempts to focus on Joker's memories and recalls that Todd is alive: Joker drove Robin to hate Batman and reveal his identity. Napier explains he already knew Batman's identity as all collateral taxes indirectly come from Wayne Enterprises. Making peace with Dick, Barbara and Gordon, Batman races through Gotham tunnels with Napier, who has reverted to Joker. The GTO bests Neo Joker's forces and reverses the freeze ray, flooding the tunnels. Overpowering Neo Joker, Joker releases Clayface and undoes the mind control. With Batman protecting him from Clayface, Joker and Quinzel pursue Neo Joker in the Batmobile; Napier returns and professes his love for Quinzel. Approaching a closing floodgate, Napier launches Quinzel through the gap in the Batcycle, causing him to crash. Quinzel beats and apprehends Neo Joker, and Batman saves Napier.

Confessing to his crimes, Napier surrenders and is granted a nicer Arkham cell and a wedding to Quinzel; as he finishes his vows, Napier permanently reverts to Joker. Using Napier's remaining funds, Quinzel begins restoring Backport. Confronting Quinzel, Batman reveals she manufactured Joker's medication and orchestrated events so the chase would end in the factory and be recorded. Explaining he only learned the truth from Joker, Quinzel explains she did it to break their stalemate before they destroyed Gotham.

Meeting with Gordon, Batman gives him the keys to the original Batmobiles for the GTO and confesses that Napier was right about him. Revealing that he's realized that he's been taking pleasure in harming criminals and that he's allowed himself to go too far in his war against crime, Batman unmasks himself in front of Gordon to earn back his trust.

REVIEW

To say this story is about role reversals would be an underwhelming generalization. There is more to this story and it is a product of our current times.

The first thing that comes to mind while reading this story is the how Trump got to be a president and how the UK voted for a Brexit. It’s about trust in the good guys, and how when that trust is broken, people will trust anything but the good guys. I’m not saying that Trump is a villain, but, you know, he wouldn’t be in power had he had better (trustful) competition. And coming from a third world country, this happens a lot, in many countries, with politicians in particular.

But it goes beyond that, when you feel like the authorities (like the police or the army) acts like a bully, you do not trust them anymore. You second guess all they do. That is actually a very good practice though, you SHOULD think rationally about motivations and goals of those you trust. But it doesn’t help institutions, it breaks apart trust in other things that may be actually good for society, and you open the door for crazy conspiracies and hoaxes that do more harm than good (like anti-vaccination fanatics or climate change denialists).

So it is fitting that this story ends with Batman revealing who he is, because had the people known he was paying for his own destruction all along, the Joker wouldn’t have had the upper hand. And people were eager to believe in the Joker, who in the shadows, was still doing evil (even if it was for a good cause).

And that is another thing to consider, that no one is right in this story (just like in real life). All these characters are wrong at some point, the Joker is right in his views most of the time, but the alternative is also flawed.

I am saying this is a story of our times, because it feels like the good guys are not as trustful as they used to, and they really need to step up and be more transparent in order to stop hate and corruption from coming into power (many countries seem to go for fascist ideas at this moment, last time something like that happened was before World War II).

Going to specifics of this story, Jason is alive (but thought dead) and he was also the first Robin. Dick is not the loyal partner here and Barbara is a bit less mature than we are used to. The whole story feels like a remix of the Batman movies and the animated series, but it is clearly not in any of those continuities. It also introduces a second Harley Quinn, who looks pretty much like the new 52 version of the character.

And of course, the stand-out of the series is the original Harley Quinn, and how he was the actual mastermind behind everything... for a good cause. That kind of reveal was justified and throws mediocre mystery arcs like Hush and The Long Halloween out the window.

There are a lot of easter eggs in the art, and it helps create this big landscape that is Gotham City. You can feel these backgrounds as being a very important part of the story.

It also leaves some unanswered questions to justify a sequel.

I give this story a score of 10.