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mytwilightimagines13 · 3 years ago

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Amnesia (Book Two)(Part Fifteen)(Alec Volturi)

The final witness

Then Alice danced into the clearing from the southwest, Jasper was only inches behind her, his sharp eyes fierce. Close after them ran three strangers; the first was a tall, muscular female with wild dark hair - obviously Kachiri. She had the same elongated limbs and features as the other Amazons, even more pronounced in her case. The next was a small olive-toned female vampire with a long braid of black hair bobbing against her back. Her deep burgundy eyes flitted nervously around the confrontation before her. And the last was a young man... not quite as fast nor quite as fluid in his run. His skin was an impossible rich, dark brown. His wary eyes flashed across the gathering, and they were the color of warm teak. His hair was black and braided, too, like the woman's, though not as long. He was beautiful. As he neared the vampires in the meadow, a new sound sent shock waves through the watching crowd - the sound of another heartbeat, accelerated with exertion. Alice leaped lightly over the edges of the dissipating mist that lapped at Bella’s shield and came to a sinuous stop at Edward's side. Bella reached out to touch her arm, and so did Edward, Esme, Carlisle. There wasn't time for any other welcome. Jasper and the others followed her through the shield. All the guard watched, speculation in their eyes, as the latecomers crossed the invisible border without difficulty. The brawny ones, Felix and the others like him, focused their suddenly hopeful eyes on Bella. They had not been sure of what her shield repelled, but it was clear now that it would not stop a physical attack. As soon as Aro gave the order, the blitz would ensue her. Edward, despite his absorption in the coup he was directing, stiffened furiously in response to their thoughts. He controlled himself and spoke to Aro again. "Alice has been searching for her own witnesses these last weeks," he said to the ancient. "And she does not come back empty-handed. Alice, why don't you introduce the witnesses you've brought?" Caius snarled. "The time for witnesses is past! Cast your vote, Aro!" Aro raised one finger to silence his brother, his eyes glued to Alice's face. Alice stepped forward lightly and introduced the strangers. "This is Huilen and her nephew, Nahuel." Caius's eyes tightened as Alice named the relationship between the newcomers. The Volturi witnesses hissed amongst themselves, including Jane and Alec, but Maeryn did not join them once again. She felt intrigued by the newcomers. So there were more male vampires impregnating female humans. The vampire world was changing, and everyone could feel it. "Speak, Huilen," Aro commanded. "Give us the witness you were brought to bear." The slight woman looked to Alice nervously. Alice nodded in encouragement, and Kachiri put her long hand on the little vampire's shoulder. "I am Huilen," the woman announced in clear but strangely accented English. As she continued, it was apparent she had prepared herself to tell this story, that she had practiced. It flowed like a well-known nursery rhyme. "A century and a half ago, I lived with my people, the Mapuche. My sister was Pire. Our parents named her after the snow on the mountains because of her fair skin. And she was very beautiful - too beautiful. She came to me one day in secret and told me of the angel that found her in the woods, that visited her by night. I warned her." Huilen shook her head mournfully. "As if the bruises on her skin were not warning enough. I knew it was the Libishomen of our legends, but she would not listen. She was bewitched. "She told me when she was sure her dark angel's child was growing inside her. I didn't try to discourage her from her plan to run away - I knew even our father and mother would agree that the child must be destroyed, Pire with it. I went with her into the deepest parts of the forest. She searched for her demon angel but found nothing. I cared for her, hunted for her when her strength failed. She ate the animals raw, drinking their blood. I needed no more confirmation of what she carried in her womb. I hoped to

save her life before I killed the monster. But she loved the child inside her. She called him Nahuel, after the jungle cat, when he grew strong and broke her bones - and loved him still. I could not save her. The child ripped his way free of her, and she died quickly, begging all the while that I would care for her Nahuel. Her dying wish - and I agreed. He bit me, though, when I tried to lift him from her body. I crawled away into the jungle to die. I didn't get far - the pain was too much. But he found me; the newborn child struggled through the underbrush to my side and waited for me. When the pain ended, he was curled against my side, sleeping. I cared for him until he was able to hunt for himself. We hunted the villages around our forest, staying to ourselves. We have never come so far from our home, but Nahuel wished to see the child here." Huilen bowed her head when she was finished and moved back so she was partially hidden behind Kachiri. Aro's lips were pursed. He stared at the dark-skinned youth. "Nahuel, you are one hundred and fifty years old?" he questioned. "Give or take a decade," he answered in a clear, beautifully warm voice. His accent was barely noticeable. "We don't keep track." "And you reached maturity at what age?" "About seven years after my birth, more or less, I was full grown." "You have not changed since then?" Nahuel shrugged. "Not that I've noticed." "And your diet?" Aro pressed, seeming interested in spite of himself. "Mostly blood, but some human food, too. I can survive on either." "You were able to create an immortal?" As Aro gestured to Huilen, his voice was abruptly intense. Bella refocused on her shield, but Maeryn no longer paid attention. This was something new to her kind, something interesting. And she wanted to know every last bit of it. "Yes, but none of the rest can." A shocked murmur ran through all three groups. Aro's eyebrows shot up. "The rest?" "My sisters." Nahuel shrugged again. Aro stared wildly for a moment before composing his face. "Perhaps you would tell us the rest of your story, for there seems to be more." Nahuel frowned. "My father came looking for me a few years after my mother's death." His handsome face distorted slightly. "He was pleased to find me." Nahuel's tone suggested the feeling was not mutual. "He had two daughters, but no sons. He expected me to join him, as my sisters had. He was surprised I was not alone. My sisters are not venomous, but whether that's due to gender or a random chance... who knows? I already had my family with Huilen, and I was not interested" - he twisted the word - "in making a change. I see him from time to time. I have a new sister; she reached maturity about ten years back." "Your father's name?" Caius asked through gritted teeth. "Joham," Nahuel answered. "He considers himself a scientist. He thinks he's creating a new super-race." He made no attempt to disguise the disgust in his tone. Maeryn shared this feeling. It indeed was disgusting. Caius looked at Bella. "Your daughter, is she venomous?" he demanded harshly. "No," Bella responded. Nahuel's head snapped up at Aro's question, and his teak eyes turned to bore into Bella’s face. Caius looked to Aro for confirmation, but Aro was absorbed in his own thoughts. He pursed his lips and stared at Carlisle, and then Edward, and at last his eyes rested on Bella. Caius growled. "We take care of the aberration here, and then follow it south," he urged Aro. Aro stared into Bella’s eyes for a long, tense moment. Maeryn had no idea what he was searching for in Bella’s eyes, or what he found, but after he had measured her for that moment, something in his face changed, a faint shift in the set of his mouth and eyes, and Maeryn knew that Aro had made his decision. "Brother," he said softly to Caius. "There appears to be no danger. This is an unusual development, but I see no threat. These half-vampire children are much like us, it appears." "Is that your vote?" Caius demanded. "It is." Caius scowled. "And this Joham? This immortal so fond of experimentation?" "Perhaps we

should speak with him," Aro agreed. "Stop Joham if you will," Nahuel said flatly. "But leave my sisters be. They are innocent." Aro nodded, his expression solemn. And then he turned back to his guard with a warm smile. "Dear ones," he called. "We do not fight today." The guard nodded in unison and straightened out of their ready positions. The mist dissipated swiftly, but Bella held her shield in place. She analyzed their expressions as Aro turned back to them. His face was as benign as ever, but unlike before, there could be a strange blankness sensed behind the facade. As if his scheming was over. Caius was clearly incensed, but his rage was turned inward now; he was resigned. Marcus looked... bored; there really was no other word for it. The guard was impassive and disciplined again; there were no individuals among them, just the whole. They were in formation, ready to depart. Once Alec’s mist had returned to himself, Maeryn took off the glove of her right hand, showing her porcelain skin to the sun. Alec did the same to the glove on his left hand and grabbed Maeryn’s hand tightly. It felt good to feel each other’s skin touch one another. Now they could feel their connection much better than before. The Volturi witnesses were still wary; one after another, they departed, scattering into the woods. As their numbers dwindled, the remaining sped up. Soon they were all gone. Aro held his hands out to the foes, almost apologetic. Behind him, the larger part of the guard, along with Caius, Marcus, and the silent, mysterious wives, were already drifting quickly away, their formation precise once again. Only the three that seemed to be his personal guardians lingered with him. "I'm so glad this could be resolved without violence," he said sweetly. "My friend, Carlisle - how pleased I am to call you friend again! I hope there are no hard feelings. I know you understand the strict burden that our duty places on our shoulders." "Leave in peace, Aro," Carlisle said stiffly. "Please remember that we still have our anonymity to protect here, and keep your guard from hunting in this region." "Of course, Carlisle," Aro assured him. "I am sorry to earn your disapproval, my dear friend. Perhaps, in time, you will forgive me." "Perhaps, in time, if you prove a friend to us again." Aro bowed his head, the picture of remorse, and drifted backward for a moment before he turned around. The foes watched in silence as the last four Volturi disappeared into the trees.

Once back in the castle, Jane, Alec and Maeryn made their way towards Jane’s room. Jane was boiling with anger and she threw some expensive vases against the wall on their way to her room. Maeryn and Alec skillfully avoided the porcelain shatters and followed their sister to her room. Once inside, Jane grabbed her pillow and ripped it in half. Alec let go of Maeryn’s hand and pulled his sister in a tight embrace. Jane used her gift on him, but Alec kept on holding her, not once making a sound of agony. Soon enough Jane calmed down, and as soon as Alec released her, she fell onto her bed that was now covered in feathers. She picked one up and studied its form with her magnified sight, seeing every little detail. “Don’t fret sister, there will be a day we can defeat them.” Alec said. “At a moment when they least expect it.” Jane said, slowly grinning again. "We got all eternity to plan it ." Maeryn said to Alec and Jane. Both the twins grinned. Maeryn grinned along, though she could not shake off the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

#alec volturi #volturi #volturi imagine #athenodora volturi #twilight imagine #twilight

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hopeatermeetsgodzilla · 4 years ago

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Chapter 20

Mothra crawled out of the hole, head upside down as she shook herself free of debris, hands and feet clinging to the ceiling as she crawled away from the tunnel. They had to use the tunnels that connected Styx’s temple to Dagon’s former nest to find their way here, after all. “Battra? Is everything alright?”

Battra groaned as he came out of the tunnel, holding himself upright with a pair of hands clutching at the ledge. His wings flapped a bit behind him. “I hate travelling underground in adult form, but beside that? I’m fine.”

“What the- WHAT IN METHUSELAH’S NAME ARE YOU TWO DOING UP THERE!?” Both Mothra and Battra bent their heads to look at the ground, a very confused Anguirus looking up at them from the bottom of the stairs that led up to the altar.

Both Mothra and Battra let go of their hold, flapping their wings as they neared the floor to cushion their fall. Mothra turned toward Anguirus. “Where is Godzilla!?” She asked with urgency in her tone. “We were at the Tapestry and his flower was all wilted and-”

“I- it’s alright, Mothra.” Anguirus started, making a gesture for Mothra to calm down. before pointing at the altar behind him. “Goji’s right there, and resting. He’s in a pretty bad state, but I was able to stabilize him.” He reassured her, a sigh of relief leaving the moth.

Battra pat her on the shoulder reassuringly, before looking up at Anguirus. “Do you know what caused his condition?”

Anguirus shook his head. “He doesn’t either. He said he was fighting Ghidorah, and then there was a bright light?...” He hissed through his teeth. “I can’t imagine what the surface looks like right now, with those three rampaging...”

“It’s fine, actually.” Battra started, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “The third member of your trio of idiots is somehow holding them outside of reality, and he shows no intention of letting go or dying anytime soon.”

Anguirus laughed, rubbing the back of his head. “That’s Rodan for you! There’s always one of us up to make Ghidorah’s life as difficult as possible! And...” He frowned. “Do you guys know what hurt Goji like that? Because it can’t be Ghidorah. It happened underwater, and they’re pretty useless underwater.”

“Probably humans.” Battra hissed.

Mothra turned toward her brother with a frown, and Anguirus looked at him, confused. “Why- no, how would humans be able to do that?”

“I don’t know how, but I do know the why: to prove that they can and are above obeying the laws of nature.” Battra hissed, Anguirus raising an unconvinced eyebrow in response.

“They’re small and harmless and you’re just looking for an excuse to go an another rampage.”

“Well, unless you can name a Titan able to do that kind of damage, I’m going to assume that humans- who have regularly proven themselves to be more dangerous than anyone gives them credit for- are behidn this and- Mothra where are you going-”

“I’m going to go check on my mate while you two argue like petty childrens.” Mothra answered as started climbing up the stairs, leaving Anguirus and Battra behind as she made her way to Godzilla. Her mate was currently lying on the floor, eyes closed and dark hair lying around him in a puddle. A distressed thrill escaped her as she approached him, kneeling down and putting a hand on his back.

Godzilla opened his eyes, labored breathing picking up as he woke up. He frowned in confusion when he saw her. “Mothra?... Why are you...”

“Hush, my love. That’s not important.” She told him, taking a hold of his face as she came closer. “What’s important is that I need to heal you.”

Godzilla nodded, letting Mothra turn him on his back as she laid his head in her lap. As her wings started to rise behind her, patterns glowing a soft shade of green, he spoke up. “Wait.”

Mothra looked at him, concerned. “What is it?”

“Before I go back to sleep...” He smiled weakly. “Can I get a kiss?”

Mothra smiled, bending down and kissing her mate. “Of course. Now, rest, and do not worry about everything else, alright? We’ll take care of it.”

Godzilla smiled, before allowing himself to fall into a deep sleep, a soft blue light surrounding them.

Madison stared at the ceiling, wide awake at a far-too-early hour to be awake at. She groaned. No use trying to get back to sleep now... she got out of bed, slipping her feet into slippers to avoid the cold metal floor. She quietly got out of her room, and then the two-room-and-one-bathroom quarters she had shared with her parents since first arriving at Castle Bravo.

She quietly tip-toed around the living area until she reached a small dining area, surprised at seeing light streaming out of the door. Was someone already awake? She opened the door slowly, surprised to see Florès standing in front of a coffee machine, wearing . She slowly came into the room, sitting at a small, round table. “Uh. I didn’t take you for an early riser.”

Florès turned toward her, somehow looking unimpressed. “Me estoy preparando para la cama, Russellita.”

It took Madison a few seconds to translate what the older man had said. “You’re going to bed now? It’s like 5:30.”

“Sí, no vi pasar el tiempo. Pasa algunas veces.”

“... Okay, okay. Can you switch to English please? I can understand Spanish, but you’re speaking really fast, and your accent is making it hard to understand.”

“Que- mierda, I didn’t notice. Sorry, I tend to forget how to use English when I’m tired.” Florès explained.

“It’s fine, it’s just- my Spanish isn’t really good...” She started. “I’ve been learning it for a year at school now, but I only have the grasp of a five years old on it...”

“And how fucking long do you think it took the five years old?”

“... okay, fair.” She sat there for a moment, looking in front of her as she thought about her dream. She didn’t notice Florès walking up to her until he put a cup of something in front of her. “What’s that?”

“My nana’s chocolate caliente recipe. It’s good.” Madison nodded, taking a sip and feeling the drink warm her up from the inside out.

Florès sat down with his own cup. “Something bothering you and keeping you up, Russellita? Pesadillas?”

“... I didn’t learn that word...”

“Nightmares?” Madison shook her head.

“I mean, it is a dream, but... it’s not a bad one. Just weird. I don’t think you’d be interested, it concerns the Titans.”

“Fire away.” Florès said with resignation in his voice. “It’s not like I’m ever going to be able to avoid hearing about these monstruos as long as I’m in Monarch. At least, the way you talk about them doesn’t fill me with pavor existencial at each word.”

“Well... Mothra and Battra were underground, talking to Anguirus while Godzilla was laying not too far away. At some point, Mothra went to talk to him when Battra and Anguirus started arguing, and she started healing him, and... kissed him? Anyway, I think Godzilla might still be alive.” Madison looked hopefully at Florès, who’s expression was incomprehensible. “What do you think?”

“I think you should talk about the fact that you seem to have an enlace psíquico with the Titans to your Madre.” Florès deadpanned, before frowning in confusion. “Padre? No lo sé, tell your parents you probably have magic powers related to the Titans. Wouldn’t be the first time that happened, you could hear Ghidorah talk, after all.”

“... Okay, but...” She sighed. “So much stuff has already happened to me, I don’t- I don’t know how they would react. Mom’s scared of the Titans, and Dad doesn’t really like them either... I think he thinks we should kill them.”

“Tonto.” Florès muttered. “As if we could kill demons.”

Madison frowned. “The Titans aren’t demons!”

“Then what are they!?” Florès asked. “Because Gods wouldn’t destroy the world they created for no reasons. I don’t- I don’t actually think they’re demons, okay? I don’t think they’re evil But... you have to understand that they’re not good either. They’re like us, people, just scaled up and with magical powers. They just woke up in an unfamiliar world, and they’re confused and scared but they could also raze us to the ground as an afterthought, and we should leave them alone instead of studying them like wild animals. I’m calling them demons because it’s the closest thing I can think of to describe them, not because I hate them.”

“I don’t believe they’re Gods either.” Madison started, surprising Florès. “I never said that. In fact, I agree with most of your points. But... they live here. It’s not their fault they’ve been hibernating since before written language became a thing. We should try to figure out how to communicate with them, help them, not... cower away and hope they won’t kill us. And there’s proof it happened before! Titans, and humans, co-existing. Why can’t we do it again now?”

“... Russellita.” Florès started, a tired frown on his face. “I respect the fact that you think the Titans should be treated as amnesiac old friends who just came out of a coma. Por favor, respect the fact that I think they should be left alone to figure their own shit out.” There was a pause as they both sipped from their hot chocolate. “If you want, I’ll help you talk about it to an adult in the morning, okay?”

“... Okay.”

#Godzilla #godzilla gijinka #writing #My writing #mothra #battra #anguirus #Gojira #mosugoji #mothzilla #madison russel #OC #my OC

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fizzingwizard · 4 years ago

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very long very personal

of course it’s okay, I wouldn’t have left this public if it were a big deal, but I’d still prefer no comments on this.

So my mom messaged me the other day asking if we could chat because she “had some questions.” So I already figured something was up, because usually she doesn’t give a reason for wanting to chat, just wanting to talk is enough. I was trying to guess if “some questions” meant something very serious was going on or if she had questions about whether I’ll be able to go back to the US for Christmas this year, since last time we talked I said probably not because of covid-19.

So I felt like I didn’t want to put this off, but also did? lol. So I couldn’t make myself call last night, so I called this morning when it’s night for them. ” It seemed casual, but I could see a stack of boxes behind her. My first thought was “are my parents moving?” And at first my mom’s like, “Yeah, we decided to sell the house, so I wanted to ask you about some things of yours I found. I’m like oh, okay, probably anything left there is trash because I haven’t looked at it in 10 years (uh, though there were a couple things I wanted to keep >_>; also a mountain of books >_____>;)

and then she goes, “So yeah, the reason we’re selling is because your dad and I are splitting up.”

and I’m like, THERE IT IS.

she said it soooo casual-like and several minutes into chatting. I’m sure because it’s an awkward thing to suddenly bring up. The thing is, before I called, I was planning to tell her that if there ever was some big news to share, I’d rather she warn me in a text message first. Like, “I’ve got some news that may be difficult to hear,” some such, doesn’t need to explain anything, just tip me off to be prepared, because that’s what I’m like. At work I never fully accept compliments because the feeling of reassurance that I’m doing well leads to me being blindsided when something goes wrong. So I try to always keep a mental balance, like “I’m glad X went well but that doesn’t mean everything is good” or “Too bad Y didn’t work out, but that doesn’t meant everything is shitty.” This is what helps me not go crazy and feel a bit in control. I wish I were a happy go lucky person for whom bad stuff rolls right off, but it doesn’t, at all, so I try to manage it the best way I can. I never feel truly happy but I never feel truly sad.

And the reason I felt like I needed to say something to my mom is, this isn’t the first time something like this happened. When I was in college, both of my parents got into a car accident - the same accident, but separate cars. They were both okay, but the cars were ruined. They didn’t tell me until weeks later. Same thing happened when my brother got sick and had to be hospitalized. He was there for weeks dealing with some pretty tough treatments and my parents were very stressed. And they didn’t tell me anything until it was all over with. I get that they didn’t want me to worry, I was in college and far away and couldn’t have done anything, and I also get that they were busy themselves, but I still want to know. For me, worry is not half as bad as being shocked afterward. Maybe my parents would prefer it the other way, but not me. I have told them this before but I guess it doesn’t stick. Every family is dysfunctional and I guess being bad at sharing bad news is my family’s dysfunction. Among many lol.

so I had basically just decided there was no real bad news to worry about and was preparing to let my mom know how I’d prefer she tell me if and when there is, when she drops this bomb on me. Like it’s no bomb at all. “Oh, you’re surprised? Your brother wasn’t surprised at all,” she said. Both my parents say the reason my bro’s not surprised is because he lives close by (and lived with them for many years until just recently) and I do not. While I’m sure there’s some truth to that, the real reason is totally that my brother Knows Everything and is Surprised By Nothing. And how I know that, is that I’m not surprised for the reason my parents think I am. They think I’m surprised because I didn’t know how far apart they’ve grown. But LOL. I know. I’ve known for a VERY long time.

The reason I’m surprised is BECAUSE I’ve known for a long time. I figured it out when I saw how other kids’ parents interact and compared it to mine. I figured it out when my mom started telling me things about her and my dad that probably she shouldn’t have told me, but I can’t be bothered to worry about it because my dad’s really provoked it, I mean REALLY provoked it. And my dad doesn’t dish dirt on my mom, but that’s because there isn’t any :P It’s a lopsided relationship in that way. What my dad has done is tell me how he really feels. How he’s so grateful that he has my mom and would be alone if not for her, and how he’s sorry for how he behaves when he’s upset and doesn’t want to lose what he’s got.

So, YEAH, I knew that my mom was not happy in her relationship, but any time she talked about it she always seemed anti-change. She wouldn’t lay down the law with my dad when he said things, she always followed him as the “head of the house,” and I couldn’t even blame her, I’ve seen both of the men in my family treat her pretty horribly for sticking up to herself so small wonder she doesn’t do it more. What I thought was, if she’s going to leave my dad, she’d have done it ten years ago, as soon as we kids were out of the house. She didn’t. So I’m mostly just surprised it’s finally happened!

And she says it’s all amicable, they’re staying friends, they’ll still see each other at holidays, etc. She said it all with a smile. In my head I was thinking, “I’m sure that’s true for mom, but what about dad?” Because Idk how much of the things my dad tells me he also tells my mom. I always got the feeling that dad felt I was his confidante in the family. Because I’m a good listener and I don’t tell secrets. There are things my mom dad and bro have all done that I have never told anyone in fifteen years.

And my dad has made it clear many many times that he does NOT want to live alone, does NOT want to be without my mom, etc. And I always complain about his super negative, “world is ending” politics which has just been getting worse - apparently he’s also been saying things like “I’m going to die and the world will end” etc stuff like that, and the talk about him dying is new. For me it’s an alarm bell, but no one else seems concerned. Not that I think my dad’s planning anything, but I mean more, he’s always been the depressive type, and it doesn’t seem to be getting better, and now having no one but himself for company... I think it’s going to make it even worse. Right now their reasoning is, they barely see each other anyway even while living in the same house, so what’s gonna change? But it’s completely different sharing a house with someone and not seeing them often and living completely alone. It doesn’t seem that different but it really is.

So my mom finishes telling me that everything’s fine and they both want this separation, and a little later my dad walks in and he says “Yeah, we’re splitting. I’m the type of person who should live alone. I don’t want it that way, but that’s how it is.” He said it casually too. My mom just went quiet. But the casualness was different from my mom’s. She seemed like “okay, I’m doing this now,” while he seems resigned. So yeah, basically I’m not worried about my mom, but I don’t think my dad totally realizes what this is gonna be like for him, and I’m really nervous about it. It gives me all sorts of bad feelings.

But to be clear, I don’t blame my mom for ANY of this. Not for wanting to separate, not for my dad’s depressive personality... none of it. Like I said, I thought she’d separate from him ten years ago. I love my dad, and he does have many good qualities, but he is difficult to live with. As a kid I overheard lots of arguments. Used to wonder if they’d divorce. Only reason I didn’t take it more seriously was because both of my parents come from bad homes, my mom’s parents divorced, my dad’s didn’t but he always said he wished they had because it was so toxic having them together. My parents seemed to value their relationship because of how shitty their own parents’ relationships were, so I thought that was what was keeping them afloat.

But on top of all that, my dad did some bad stuff with money. A few bad things. I don’t know all of it, mom says it’s between her and my dad, but my hope is that whenever I go home to visit at her new place, she’ll tell me. Of course I won’t push for it, but it’d be nice to have the whole story, because knowing what I do is already enough to be weird and confusing. Also my student loans appear involved (my parents are co-signers). Anyway, what I do know is that some bad money decisions were made and then my dad did a lot of lying and disrespectful stuff when my mom found out, and won’t apologize or admit he did anything wrong. My mom’s known about this for at least a month and he wouldn’t apologize the entire time. This seems to be the final straw for my mom. She seized control of the finances and though she didn’t say so, there’s no doubt in my mind that she’s the one who decided on the separation. She says she doesn’t get paying for a house she feels like she’s living alone in, when she doesn’t need such a big place just for herself, so she might as well sell and move somewhere cheaper.

Again my mom is not responsible for my dad’s metal health. She’s spent pretty much her whole adult life supporting him and not gotten all that much in return. For her, I think this is the right move and she’s going to be happier. For my dad, it’s a huge change and not a good one. Still nothing like my mom’s fault - if anything he brought it on himself - but I just feel like I’m looking into a crystal ball and it’s just my dad sitting alone in his trailer watching right wing political videos and eating junk food. Maybe forgetting to take his diabetes medicine, etc. He doesn’t even have a job so I’m not sure how that’s gonna work out. In your old age you hope you have someone who cares about you and helps look after you. At the very least you hope you have someone to talk to when you come home. I’m glad he’s supposedly going to be close to his best friend, and his best friend is a really nice guy who... may need to prepare for seeing my dad every day now? idk. But I’m grateful for that at least.

My mom will be a free bird, but it’s hard to imagine this being anything like freeing for my dad. Maybe I will turn out to be wrong. Idk. My dad’s sister is also a divorcee and has been living by herself for decades. She has a lot of loner type quirks because of that, but that’s alright. So maybe it will be okay, it will turn out my dad is really comfortable living alone after all... I wouldn’t have doubted that because he does like to be alone, it’s just the other stuff - the money, the jobs, the food, the medicine, etc - that kind of stuff I’m worried about. My aunt also fills her home with animal companions. Oh, just realized I forgot who’s going to keep the dog. Probably my dad... though of the two of them, the dog’s def better off with my mom, who actually takes her for actual walks. But my mom’s never really wanted a dog and only had one because my dad wanted it.

I mean story of my life right??? My mom doesn’t want a thing, but does it because it’s what my dad wants, he doesn’t take care of it, so she does! Rinse and repeat. For years and years and years.

When my mom told me about all this I said “Okay, I don’t want to talk about it right now but I’m glad you’re both happy.” And she was like why don’t you want to talk about it? Well for all these reasons that I could never say to their faces.

for them it’s been their marriage, for me it’s been my lifetime. There are so many things we did together. Even when my dad made his stupid music CD with the god awful cover he designed himself, and wouldn’t accept my mom’s input even though she’s a graphic designer, ya know, she does it for a living... Those kinds of memories. I know I’m sentimental as fuck. I just told my mom to throw out all my old drawings and notebooks that I was keeping from when I was a kid because it doesn’t mean a thing to me anymore. Life changes, things change, and as much as we want to carry it on with us, we just run out of space.

haha now im crying, how stupid

there’s another reason as well but I just deleted it because I’m secretive lol.

time changes and we change, and we can survive any change... but we may not like it. it may not feel worth it. idk. i don’t know if my existence is worth it. I know my parents love me and I’m personally happy on a daily basis, I’ve been lucky that while I’m hardly a peppy cheerful type, I don’t seem prone to depressive episodes like my dad and brother. So it’s not about “I shouldn’t have been born!” or nonsense. But maybe in a wiser world, my parents would not have married each other. Maybe they could have been happier. Idk.

this would all be a breath of fresh air if I could feel like it’ll be as good for my dad as it will be for my mom.

anyway I really needed to get this off my chest. again I don’t really want “aw dont worry my parents are separated too” comments. I respect what everyone’s been through and I know I’m hardly suffering here relatively speaking. but I’ve always been a melodramatic journaling type so I just had to write it down.

#personal

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sweetscentences · 5 years ago

Text

Small Changes: Chapter 3

On AO3 here. Thanks for being patient with me formatting this for tumblr <3

The sun set, and Rosinante was getting worried. Law hadn’t come back yet. Rosinante knew that Law could handle himself, knew he told him to take as long as he needed. But an old paranoia was creeping up on Rosinante. It didn’t help that this was the longest he’d been separated from Law in over half a year.

Garp dragged him down to the docks to watch the sunset when Rosinante’s anxiety started to grate on him. But the sun finished sinking below the horizon, and there wasn’t any sign of Law. Rosinante gnawed, absentmindedly, on one of his nails.

Garp smacked his hand from his mouth and hauled him to his feet. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Rosinante asked, but followed after Garp.

“My grandsons stay with me when I visit. We’re going to go grab them.” There was an uncharacteristically soft smile on Garp’s face. “Besides, they know those woods better than anyone. Maybe they’ve seen your brat.”

Rosinante wasn’t sure if he would describe Law as any sort of brat, let alone his. He mellowed out while they traveled together- partly because he was dying, partly because he had someone to care about. But even when he first joined the Donquixote Pirates Rosinante would have described him as a homicidal little shit before he called him a brat.

He didn’t bother nitpicking though. Garp considered anyone younger than him a brat, and Rosinante��

Lying was his livelihood. Sometimes, it came easier than breathing. But calling Law his son was the easiest lie he ever told.

The best lies were the ones a person desperately wanted to be true.

Garp lead them through the forest confidently, even though they quickly deviated from the path. Before too long, they arrived at the base of a massive tree. A treehouse the size of a small cottage was braced in its branches, and the sound of young voices floated down from it.

Young voices cursing. In Northern. Garp shot Rosinante a look.

“What are they saying?” he asked, just as Law’s voice reached them. He was slowly working through the pronunciation of a particularly graphic threat involving ice picks and vital organs.

Rosinante heard it many times after he dragged Law away from the Donquixote Pirates. Back then, Law actually following through wasn’t out of the question.

Rosinante thought it best not to share that much. “Nothing good,” he said simply.

Garp looked like he might press for more information, when loud laughter from above them distracted him. Garp’s soft smile turned into something sharp.

“You brats!” he bellowed. Silence fell immediately, and three boys poked their heads out of the treehouse’s window. There was a mix of horror and excitement on their young faces.

“Hi Gramps!” the smallest one, with a straw hat balanced on his head, called cheerfully. Rosinante had seen that hat before, on wanted posters. Which meant this must be Luffy- Garp’s grandson who had been charmed by Red-Haired Shanks.

“Hey Gramps,” the only blonde of the group said with a wave. Garp regaled Rosinante with enough stories about his boys that evening for him to know this was Sabo- a street rat from the other side of the island who often served as a ringleader in the boys’ schemes.

Which meant the last boy, grinning sharply down at them, had to be Portgas D. Ace. Rosinante wasn’t sure how Garp handled two boys who inherited the will of D. He barely managed with one.

Then Rosinante remembered Garp was a D. himself. No wonder he wore Sengoku out so easily.

“Hey. Gramps.” Ace’s voice was more a challenge than a greeting. “Go fuck yourself.”

Rosinante fought the urge to choke on his own tongue. Garp’s face went red. Even if he couldn’t understand the words, Ace’s tone and smug grin were painfully clear.

Rosinante was distracted from Garp starting a tirade by a figure making their way down the treehouse’s ladder.

It seemed Luffy noticed the same thing. “Be careful, Torao!”

Rosinante’s hands twitched with the effort of keeping them by his sides. Law wouldn’t appreciate Rosinante stepping up to help him. Wouldn’t appreciate being coddled, even if Rosinante could see his legs shaking. But he wasn’t going to grab Law, not when he didn’t know if his touch would be welcome.

When he didn’t know if his presence would be welcome.

A few agonizing minutes later, Law was on solid ground and staring up at Rosinante. He scratched a faded pale patch on one of his arms- the only nervous tic Rosinante ever saw from him.

Neither of them knew what to say.

Law settled on saying nothing at all, instead taking a deep breath and opening his arms to Rosinante. He didn’t hesitate before dropping to his knees and pulling Law into a fierce hug. Law’s arms wound around his neck, and his head tucked against the hollow of Rosinante’s throat.

Law trembled slightly, but Rosinante didn’t acknowledge it. His hands were shaking too, after all.

There were so many ways he could have lost Law. To Doflamingo. To the Amber Lead. To the fact that he was a Marine.

(There were so many ways he could still lose Law.)

“I knew for awhile,” Law admitted, his voice muffled by Rosinante’s shirt and the rounded shape of Northern. Garp somehow made his way into the treehouse to give them space, but Rosinante taught Law to be wary of prying ears. “I knew back on Minion. But I wanted to pretend I didn’t.”

“I wanted to pretend too,” Rosinante said, holding Law a bit tighter. The fact that Law allowed it, that he squeezed Rosinante back, told Rosinante more than words could.

“There are things I need to tell you,” he said. “About how I grew up. About being a Marine.” He hoped, desperately, that his birth as a noble wouldn’t be what drove Law away from him. He felt Law tense in his arms, and ran a careful hand up and down his back.

“Nothing like that,” he promised. “Never anything like that.”

For all that Rosinante had done for the Navy, lying and killing alike, there was never anything comparable to Flevance. He would die before aiding a genocide. Would die before killing children.

Law relaxed again with a shaky exhale. Nodded. His arms loosened a bit, and Rosinante took that as his cue to let go. Law stepped out of his arms, but didn’t go far.

“I meant to come back sooner,” he said. “I got distracted.”

Rosinante shook his head. “I told you to take as long as you needed.” He smiled at the treehouse, where Garp was herding his grandsons down the ladder, keeping a tight grip on Luffy. “It looks like you made some friends.”

Law shrugged and scratched his arm again. “They’re weird, but funny. Luffy ate a Devil Fruit too.”

“Oh.” Rosinante sat back and watched Garp try to corral his other two grandsons as Luffy wrapped strangely long arms around his neck. That explained some of Garp’s worry over the boys, as well as his resentment of Shanks. A Devil Fruit wasn’t likely to end up in a village as small as Foosha without a pirate’s involvement.

Garp successfully caught Ace and Sabo in something that looked half like a hug and half like a wrestling move. He straightened out and marched towards Rosinante as the boys resigned themselves to their fates and slouched against his chest.

“Let’s head back into town. Something tells me the boys haven’t eaten yet.”

Apparently food was the magic word with Garp’s grandsons, who burst into an intimidating round of cheers. Law shot Rosinante a helplessly confused look. Rosinante couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh.

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Law took hearing about Rosinante’s past better than he hoped. He half expected his childhood as a noble to be the final straw for Law. Instead, Law told him he couldn’t help where he was born, and that he didn’t act like a ‘complete bastard,’ so it didn’t matter.

They both knew it mattered.

Law traced the scars on Rosinante’s hands and arms with careful fingers and burning eyes. Rosinante wouldn’t be able to tell him they hadn’t hurt. Law understood the body far too well to believe that. Rosinante resolved, then, to never tell Law about his knees. Law would worry over them, over him, far too much. But there wouldn’t be anything he could do. Every doctor Sengoku took Rosinante to said the same thing: they healed wrong when he was too young, and his body developed around the mangled parts. Any surgery would be more risk than it was worth.

It wasn’t so bad, in the temperate East Blue. They didn’t ache or lock up the way they did in the Northern cold.

After a few minutes of cataloguing the wounds on Rosinante’s arms and grinding his teeth, Law softened.

“That language you whisper in sometimes,” he said. “What is it?”

Rosinante was surprised Law noticed. He either had incredibly sharp ears, or he wasn’t asleep half the times Rosinante thought he was.

Sadly, Rosinante was certain it was the latter.

“It’s the language of Marie Geoise,” Rosinante sighed. “The language of my family.”

All his family but Senoku, that was. Sengoku and now Law.

“Even Doflamingo?”

Rosinante tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. “Even Doffy.”

Law stared down at his lap. His hands squeezed Rosinante’s.

“Will you teach it to me?”

Rosinante’s eyes widened. An old taboo stole the breath from his lungs.

To the Celestial Dragons, teaching a commoner the Holy Tongue would have been the greatest sacrilege. A betrayal like no other. One so severe that even Rosinante’s parents never did it.

But Rosinante hadn’t been a Celestial Dragon in a very long time.

“I’d be happy to,” he breathed.

Law released his hand, only to shuffle closer and lean against his side. He even let Rosinante wrap an arm around him.

After that, Law took the news of Sengoku’s visit significantly worse.

He shut down, briefly, his breath catching and his hands curling into fists. He didn’t look up at Rosinante when he told him he needed to leave. Told him that Luffy and his brothers invited him to go fishing, and that he would be back after sundown.

It seemed he was trying to handle his anger, his grief, without lashing out. Rosinante wouldn’t stop him. Instead, he did his best to stay busy around Makino’s bar on the off chance that Law came back early and needed him.

It was a bit before midnight when Law returned, creeping into their room and pressing himself wordlessly against Rosinante’s side.

For awhile, the only sounds were the rumbling chatter of the bar below and the cricket song from outside.

After a few minutes, Law spoke. “He’s the Fleet Admiral.”

“He didn’t know.”

“How?” Law snarled, an old, familiar anger sharpening his voice. “How could the Fleet Admiral not know?”

“Because the government is corrupt and cruel,” Rosinante said. It wouldn’t be good to lie to Law here. Not again. Not about this. “There are people in power who know what Sengoku would never approve of, so they do it behind his back. They do it, and they burn records, and send bribes so he doesn’t find out.”

Few people knew how little Sengoku actually controlled. So much of what he did was standing as a figure-head.

Law made a pained sound. Covered his face with his hands and ducked his head to his chest. Rosinante pressed on anyway.

“I spoke to Garp about it. Sengoku tried to run an internal investigation, but with the ruling family dead there was no one to fund it. Not that they ever would have.”

He took a shaking breath. Reminded himself that not knowing would only hurt Law more.

“There were only a few, vague records left. As far as Sengoku could tell, all the others were burned.”

That, it seemed, was too much for Law. He started sobbing, curling in on himself and Rosinante’s side as Rosinante dragged him into his lap and against his chest.

“So that’s all it took?” Law hiccuped, one of his hands twisting to grab Rosinante’s shirt. Anchoring himself against Rosinante. “A few burnt papers and it- it never happened?! We never happened?!”

He made a sound like a dying animal, pressing his face against Rosinante’s chest and quickly soaking his shirt with tears.

Rosinante didn’t try to hush him, didn’t offer any meaningless platitudes. Law would never accept them, in the same way he would never accept pity.

“It happened. Nothing can change that,” Rosinante growled, fighting to keep his voice steady. He was angry, so soul-burningly angry about what Law was forced to endure.

It was the same anger he wielded as a weapon, when he wasn’t much older than Law. The same anger that drove him to burn the hospitals that turned Law away, that made Law cry.

The anger he wished he didn’t have. The anger he shared with Doflamingo.

“The people who did it will be punished. In this life or the next.”

Rosinante didn’t believe in fate as an unknowable, intangible force. He believed in fate as something that was made, something resting in a person’s hands. Something that depended on the strength of a person’s will.

Law was the most strong-willed person he’d ever met.

“What if I don’t believe in another life?” Law asked, breathless and horrible.

This was dangerous territory, Rosinante knew. But he promised himself he wouldn’t lie to Law again.

“Then we work to see them punished in this one.”

Law stilled for a moment. Took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I won’t ever be a Marine,” he said.

Rosinante ran a hand through Law’s wild hair. He didn’t take his hat when he left that morning.

“I wouldn’t ever ask you to be one,” Rosinante told him. He meant it too.

He knew Sengoku would want Law to join the Marines. Rosinante would make sure he never brought it up in front of Law.

Sengoku wouldn’t like it. He would think Rosinante was encouraging Law to be a pirate through inaction. But Rosinante didn’t think he was being that passive. Law would be whatever he wanted to be. Rosinante would watch over him as long as he wanted it.

Sengoku would just have to make peace with his grandson being a pirate.

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

Rosinante sent Law off to Ace, Sabo, and Luffy’s treehouse the moment he spotted Sengoku’s ship on the horizon. (Apparently Law had been sparring with the boys. They showed their bruises off to Rosinante and Garp proudly. Law was a far gentler teacher than his were.) Law didn’t hesitate or complain, he only grabbed his hat, gave Rosinante a quick hug, and waved to Makino as he swept out of the bar. He wasn’t comfortable being around Navy ships. Wasn’t even comfortable seeing them.

Rosinante watched the ship approach from his window over Makino’s bar. When it docked in the harbor, he slipped out of the bar’s back door and into the woods, silencing himself as he went.

He trusted Sengoku, and he trusted Garp, but he didn’t trust the men Sengoku would be bringing. Not implicitly.

Not again.

He settled himself down on a fallen log and braced his head in his hands. His Observation Haki was good enough to cover the village and the nearby coast. He could recognize Law, a bright spot a few miles away, moving with Garp’s boys. Sengoku and Garp were forceful presences, making their way through the town to the woods. Closer and closer to Rosinante.

It was only a few minutes before Rosinante heard their voices.

“If this were anyone but you, I would be suspicious, Garp,” Sengoku said, his voice tense. The sound of it made a pit grow in Rosinante’s stomach.

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Garp laughed.

“It’s simply a fact. You don’t have a scheming bone in your body,” Sengoku told him. “It’s a wonder where your son came from.”

With that they walked into a clearing, and Rosinante’s line of sight.

Sengoku looked tired. He had clearly lost weight, and there were bruise-dark shadows under his steely eyes. Rosinante never thought of him as an aging man. He held himself too proudly for that. But now his features were haggard and worn- grief etched into every line of his face Rosinante never noticed before. Garp held up a hand to stop him, and he nearly stumbled.

Rosinante ignored the way his hands shook. Ignored the way his stomach rolled. Ignored the horrible, choking lump in his throat. He let his bubble of silence grow to cover the clearing.

“Garp, what are you-“

Sengoku’s eyes landed on Rosinante.

His mouth dropped open.

Rosinante was up and crossing the clearing before either of them could blink, dragging Sengoku into a smothering hug.

“I’m sorry,” Rosinante said, and Sengoku’s arms snapped around him like a vice.

Sengoku held him bruisingly tight. It sent twinges of pain through Rosinante’s still healing wounds, made his ribs ache. He didn’t care. Sengoku had thought he was dead, and now he was crying against Rosinante’s shoulder.

Rosinante had never seen him cry before.

“How?” Sengoku asked, his voice shaking as much as his body.

“I don’t know,” Rosinante told him, just shy of hysterical. “I thought- I knew I was…” he took a deep, heaving breath. Pushed the thought of dying out of his mind. “Law saved me. I don’t know how.”

He knew, generally, that Law saved his life using his Devil Fruit, but he still refused to share any details. Just like he refused to tell Rosinante how he healed himself.

Law told him about Flevance. He wouldn’t say anything about this.

Rosinante wasn’t sure he wanted to know. If it was bad enough for Law to keep it from him, he didn’t know if he could stomach it.

“Doffy has spies in the Marines,” Rosinante said, before Sengoku could press about Law. There would be time for that later. He pulled back just enough to look Sengoku in the eye, but didn’t let go of him. “I don’t know how many, but at least one is a Lieutenant called Vergo.”

Sengoku’s teary eyes hardened. “Vergo? You’re certain?”

Rosinante wasn’t going to tell Sengoku any details. Wasn’t going to tell him how he was beaten. How many times he was shot. Wasn’t going to tell him how certain he was of his own death.

Instead he said, “he’s Doffy’s man through and through.”

“He’s been following me around lately, insisting on ‘supporting me through my grief’,” Sengoku snarled. Rosinante’s blood ran cold.

Sengoku saw the fear in his eyes and softened. One of his hands came up to cradle the back of Rosinante’s neck- a familiar gesture from a time that Sengoku’s hands dwarfed his.

“I haven’t let him anywhere near me,” Sengoku promised, and Rosinante could breathe again.

“He’s probably waiting to see if I’ll get in contact with you,” he said. “...Which means Doffy isn’t sure I’m dead.”

That was a terrifying thought.

Rosinante knew it would happen sooner or later. Knew that Doflamingo wouldn’t be able to write off his disappearing corpse as the work of wild animals for long. He was too paranoid for that.

But still, imagining Doflamingo tearing through North Blue looking for him, looking for Law, leaving his dog to follow at Sengoku’s heels…

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Rosinante said.

Sengoku laughed- a sharp, waterlogged sound. He cradled Rosinante’s face in his shaking, calloused hands. “You? I’m the one whose son has come back from the dead.”

Rosinante made a noise embarrassingly close to a sob. “I never meant for you to think I was dead,” he promised. “But it wasn’t safe to contact you. I needed-“

“You were looking out for more than just yourself,” Sengoku cut him off, idly brushing a tear from Rosinante’s cheek. “You were looking out for that boy. The one with the Amber Lead.”

“He doesn’t have it anymore,” Rosinante said, finally stepping out of Sengoku’s hold.

“The Devil Fruit?” Sengoku asked, his expression serious.

Rosinante nodded, trying not to tense too much. This would be the moment that decided if he would go back to the Marines, or be forced to run from two powers.

He didn’t want to lose a father again. But he would do it, he would walk away, if it meant saving Law’s life.

Sengoku sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He ground his teeth. Rosinante held his breath.

“We could spin it in Rosinante’s favor.”

Garp’s voice was an unexpected shock. Rosinante had half-forgotten he was there. Sengoku had too, if his widening eyes were any indication.

“What do you mean?” Sengoku asked, unexpectedly eager. The fact that he was entertaining the idea at all...

“The Donquixote Pirates stole the Devil Fruit,” Garp said, spreading his hands. “How could we know which member did it? Commander Rosinante had reason to believe he was compromised, so he escaped and took the kid and the Devil Fruit with him.”

None of it was even really a lie- Garp simply moved some things out of order. It could work, Rosinante realized, if people didn’t dig too deeply. There was only one problem.

“How do we explain the boy eating the Devil Fruit?” Sengoku asked, frowning the way he always did when he was deep in thought.

Garp grinned. “An accident!” he laughed. “The brat was too sick to realize what he was eating.”

Rosinante’s eye twitched.

Sengoku glowered at Garp. “Who would believe someone ate a Devil Fruit by accident?”

“My grandson did it,” Garp said with a shrug.

“Is your grandson an idiot?” Sengoku snapped. Rosinante burst out laughing as Garp’s face reddened.

“It could work,” he said, before Garp could start a fight. He didn’t think Foosha Village could survive one of Sengoku and Garp’s brawls. “Late stage Amber Lead poisoning can cause hallucinations. Who could know that it didn’t for Law?”

It was hard to mention that fact so casually. There was more than one time Law tugged at Rosinante, asking him to describe the world around them so he could be sure the poisoning hadn’t reached his brain. His mind was all he had, towards the end. He was so afraid of losing it.

Garp grinned, triumphantly spreading his hands. “There we go! An easy solution.”

Sengoku closed his eyes in a lightly pained expression. Rosinante chewed on his lower lip.

“I wonder if we even need to say that much,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Sengoku asked, his voice stern.

He was speaking as the Fleet Admiral, then. Not as Rosinante’s father.

Rosinante straightened up. “I took a sick child and a Devil Fruit away from the Donquixote Pirates. I was caught, and in that confrontation the Devil Fruit was lost. What more do I need to say?”

He didn’t want the Navy focused on Law. He didn’t want anyone in power focused on Law. It wouldn’t lead to anything good.

If it came out that Law was a survivor of Flevance…

(A memory came to Rosinante’s mind of the Ohara incident. Of a little girl’s face on wanted posters.)

“Does anyone but you know that Law had Amber Lead specifically?” he asked Sengoku.

Sengoku’s shoulders slouched. “I doubt it,” he said, dropping the authority in his voice. “Piecing together the boy’s origin was… difficult, to say the least. It’s unlikely anyone will investigate him to the degree I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought he might be the answer to what happened to you.”

Rosinante’s mouth went dry. His heart stuttered.

Sengoku smiled thinly. “If nothing else, it seems I was right about that,” he said. “I never recorded anything I found about the boy. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Sengoku closed his eyes and took a deep breath, grounding himself the way he taught Rosinante to.

“Could he keep up a lie you told him under scrutiny?” Sengoku asked.

Rosinante’s mind came to a screeching halt. He could barely believe Sengoku was considering this. That he was planning for it. Rosinante did his best to gather himself, and focus on the matter at hand.

“Easily,” he told Sengoku.

He decided to leave out the fact that Law would take any opportunity he could to spit in the government’s face. Lying would be nothing for him.

“What’s the plan, then?” Garp asked, a rarely heard seriousness in his voice.

“We’ll deal with Vergo first,” Sengoku said with a nod. “We’ll try to bring any other spies down with him. We can spin Rosinante not checking in as intentional rather than him going AWOL. The boy…” he trailed off with a sigh. “We’ll work the boy into it.”

“Law won’t go into Marine custody.” Rosinante decided now was as good a time as ever to bring that up.

“Why not?” Sengoku asked, his voice sharp. That commanding bark never intimidated Rosinante as much as it did Sengoku’s troops.

(Maybe it was because none of them ever found Sengoku sprawled out on their living room floor, singing nonsense songs to his pet goat as he fed her treats. That kind of thing softened one’s image of a man.)

“Flevance,” Rosinante said simply. “It’s a minor miracle that Law forgave me for telling him I wasn’t a Marine. Another miracle that he agreed to be civil with you.”

“Civil?” Sengoku asked.

Garp cut in. “Means the kid won’t pull a knife on you.”

Sengoku stared Garp down. “Did he pull one on you?”

“Nah,” Garp said. “Only ‘cause he didn’t have a knife to pull. But your kid gave him one the other day.”

Sengoku shot Rosinante a look. He raised his hands in defense. “I’m not leaving him unarmed when Doffy’s after him.”

“How many years has Doflamingo spent grooming him?” Sengoku asked, and Rosinante grit his teeth. “How sure are you that he won’t go back to him?”

“I’m very sure,” Rosinante hissed, his voice hard as he rolled his shoulders back and straightened up.

(Like a cobra rising to strike, Doflamingo laughed, once.)

He might not have been certain a few months ago, but any good will, any tolerance Law had for Doflamingo died when he shot Rosinante. He was probably higher than the average Marine on Law’s shit list, at this point.

Sengoku had never quite figured out how to deal with Rosinante when he was angry.

“I didn’t mean to… doubt either of you,” he said. The lie was so bad he flinched as he said it.

But Rosinante recognized the intention, and forced himself to let it go. “Just… just don’t say anything like that around Law.”

“I won’t.”

Garp grinned. “This is going to be a disaster, isn’t it?”

Rosinante sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want to admit out loud that Garp was certainly right.

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

Garp was mostly right.

Predictably, Sengoku had no idea how to act around Law.

Even more predictably, Law hated Sengoku on principle.

Rosinante was sure the only reason he didn’t bolt or try to attack Sengoku was because he attached himself to Rosinante’s side. He was intent on keeping his promise to be civil. Rosinante wouldn’t admit it out loud, Law would smack him if he did, but it was painfully endearing.

To Rosinante, at least. Sengoku looked just as ready to run as Law did.

The meeting was agonizingly awkward and stilted. Thankfully, Garp brought Luffy to ease some of the tension. He was currently chatting Sengoku’s ear off in barely passable Grand, telling him a story about almost being eaten by crocodiles.

Rosinante hoped it was just a story, but considering the alarmingly proud look on Garp’s face, it wasn’t.

Luffy was simultaneously providing a distraction for Law, having offered Law his hand when everyone settled in Makino’s closed bar. Law was carefully experimenting with seeing how far he could stretch Luffy’s fingers, and trying to feel the rubbery bones beneath the skin. He was clearly having a wonderful time with it, if the grin crawling across his face was any indication.

The light in his eyes visibly unsettled Garp and Sengoku. Rosinante knew Law noticed this, and was fairly sure he was playing it up.

“Luffy-ya, do you bleed?” he asked. Sengoku looked at him sharply. Luffy barely paused in his storytelling.

“Just if I get cut!” he chirped, before launching into another story of almost getting eaten- this time by a large wildcat.

Law only hummed, stretching Luffy’s skin and holding it up to the light to see the veins running below the surface.

Rosinante leaned down and whispered to Law in Flevean, “don’t be creepy on purpose.”

“It’s not on purpose. I’m just curious,” Law said, which was a weak defense, seeing as he stared Sengoku down every time he asked Luffy a strange question.

Rosinante raised an eyebrow at him. Law caved, and heaved the most put-upon sigh Rosinante ever heard.

“Hey, old man,” he called to Sengoku, which was hardly polite but definitely better than however Law was thinking of him. Sengoku’s eye twitched a bit at the disrespect, but thankfully he didn’t say anything about it.

“You raised Cora, right?” Law asked.

If Sengoku was confused by the name, he didn’t show it. Instead, he nodded. “I took him in when he was young.”

Law stared at him for an uncomfortably long minute. Even Luffy fell silent to watch.

“Then thanks,” Law said.

Rosinante wouldn’t have been able to stop his smile if he tried.

“I should thank you as well,” Sengoku told him, his lips twitching. “It’s my understanding that you saved his life.”

Law nodded, shifting in a way that made it clear he was uncomfortable. Not with the praise, Rosinante knew, but with the reminder.

“I’m a doctor,” he said, simply, and went back to playing with Luffy’s hand.

Rosinante shot Sengoku an approving look, both to thank him and to keep from pushing his luck. Luffy helped that as well, poking at Sengoku and asking him if he’d ever seen a Sea King. Garp took over answering that, tugging Luffy out of Sengoku’s personal space before he could start climbing on him.

“Are you doing alright?” Rosinante asked Law.

Law shrugged. “I don't like this. Or him. But I get to kill two birds with one stone.”

Rosinante did not get a chance to ask what, exactly, Law meant by that.

“Luffy-ya,” he called, waiting till he had the other boy, and everyone else’s, attention. “Does this hurt?”

He brutally bent one of Luffy’s fingers until it touched the back of his hand.

“No,” Luffy said, oblivious to the horrified adults around him. “Should it?”

“Yes.” Law smiled, all bared teeth. “Do your bones break?”

“I don’t think so,” Luffy shrugged. Law lit up.

Before anyone could stop him, Law braced Luffy’s arm and twisted his hand completely around. It was a clear, practiced movement that would break any other person’s wrist. Luffy laughed.

“Can you move your fingers?” Law asked, briefly meeting Sengoku’s horrified stare.

“Yup!” Luffy chirping, obligingly wiggling each one.

“That’s fascinating,” Law muttered. Luffy grinned at him, as if he understood the compliment. It absolutely was a compliment, coming from Law.

Law pinned Luffy’s wrist down and continued twisting it, like he was turning a corkscrew. Luffy went back to his conversation with Garp.

Rosinante looked at Sengoku. He was staring at Law, one eye twitching, with a concentration similar to when he was putting together a puzzle.

A slightly disturbing puzzle, in this case.

“Cora, do you have a notebook?” Law asked, finally letting Luffy go and watching his wrist spin back into place with an almost manic fascination. His fingers twitched lightly.

Rosinante knew all about Law’s hobby of small animal dissection. If it were anyone else Rosinante would find it unpleasant, but Law got so excited when he talked about veins, and nerves, and the way tendons strung a body together. It was a good thing Law had enough manners not to ask if he could cut Luffy open. Rosinante wasn’t sure Luffy was sensible enough to refuse.

There was a small notebook and a pen in Rosinante’s pocket. He pulled them out and handed them to Law, who started writing frantic notes.

“Is this… normal? For him?” Sengoku asked, watching Law write.

Rosinante wished he could tell him it wasn’t.

“Pretty much.”

It was better not to tell Sengoku this display was tame by Law’s standards.

But Law’s curiosity was satisfied. Sengoku was deeply unnerved. Two birds with one stone indeed.

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

“The boy is certainly… unsettling,” Sengoku said, staring up at the windows over Makino’s bar. Law went to bed hours ago, and Garp left with Luffy not long after. After that, Rosinante and Sengoku settled behind the bar, passing a flask of rum back and forth.

Rosinante looked at Sengoku, accepting the flask when he was offered it. He would wait to be offended. Sengoku might have a point beyond insulting Law.

He could almost see why some people thought Law was unsettling, but he didn’t agree. Law was too easily flustered, too easily riled. Too fascinated by the most surprising things. Too genuine in his rage and his joy. Too small. Rosinante struggled to see him as anything other than endearing.

“But he’s your son.”

Rosinante struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. “I don’t think he sees me as a father. I don’t think he could.”

From what he told Rosinante, Law’s father was an incredible man. A man that Law loved and admired. A man he had, at one point, wanted to be like. It wasn’t Rosinante’s place to compare himself to him.

“It’s obvious that he loves you,” Sengoku said. He snatched the flask from Rosinante before he could knock the rest of the rum back in an impressive display of self-pity.

(He knew Rosinante’s habits well. Half the reason they ever drank together was so Sengoku could be sure he didn’t drink too much.)

“He does.” Rosinante meant to agree, but the fear crawling up his throat turned the words into a question.

Sengoku knew Rosinante well enough not to call it out. Instead he stood and grabbed Rosinante’s arms to haul him to his feet, and into a hug. Rosinante melted into the embrace. He clung to Sengoku like he did as a child. It was difficult, now that he was taller than Sengoku, but they managed.

“I have a week in Foosha,” Sengoku said, his voice rough and unsteady.

Rosinante swallowed a sob. Nodded against Sengoku’s shoulder.

“We can make a plan in that time.” Sengoku squeezed Rosinante sharply, then pulled back just enough to cup Rosinante’s face in his calloused hands. Tears ran tracks down his face, even as his lips curved up.

“You’re alive.”

Rosinante hiccupped. He tried to bite down the feeling rushing up his throat before he remembered this was Sengoku. This was his father. Rosinante sobbed. He clung to Sengoku and wailed, breaking down in a way he hadn’t since he was a child. Since the first time Sengoku made him feel safe.

It had been too much.

Everything with Doflamingo. Living when he should have died. Law drifting every day between death and life. It was too much.

It was all too much.

Sengoku was steady as ever, holding Rosinante upright. Running a hand over Rosinante’s back, a hand through his hair. Taking clear, long breaths that were easy to match. Easy to fall into rhythm with, even if Rosinante’s chest rattled as he did.

Sengoku didn’t try to soothe him. To hush him, or promise everything would be well. It would only set Rosinante off again if he tried. Instead, he held Rosinante close for as long as it took his grief to run dry. For as long as it took him to gather the pieces of himself together.

When he straightened up, his hands stayed- balled tightly in the fabric of Sengoku’s coat.

Sengoku was wearing a smile Rosinante had never seen- the smallest tilt to his lips, his eyes pained and warm all at once. Rosinante untangled his hands from Sengoku’s coat, squeezing his shoulders before letting his arms fall to his sides.

Sengoku reached up to wipe the last tears from Rosinante’s face.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promised. Rosinante could only nod and watch him leave, too choked up to speak.

Rosinante stood alone in the dark for a long time, breathing deeply and grounding himself as best as he could.

Once he felt he wasn’t about to start crying again, he slipped back inside. He made a bubble of silence around himself as he snuck into his and Law’s room. There was barely enough moonlight spilling in from the window for Rosinante to see where he was going. He used the small washbasin by his bedside to clean the makeup from his face.

He knew he should regret the tattoos. But instead he found, time and time again, that he didn’t. They were a reminder of something wonderful just as much as they were a reminder of something awful.

There was a rustling sound behind Rosinante. He turned to find Law sitting up in his bed.

“Cora?” he asked, his voice thick with exhaustion.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Rosinante said, stepping forward to ruffle Law’s hair.

He lazily slapped Rosinante’s hand away. “I was already awake. Mostly.”

Rosinante hoped Law would sleep better once he was cured, but he didn’t really expect it. Amber Lead was far from the only thing that plagued him.

“Insomnia again?”

Law didn’t answer. Instead he ducked his head, his clenched fists twisting the bedsheets.

“Law?” Rosinante prodded, kneeling by his bedside.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Cora,” Law snapped, so sharp that Rosinante flinched back.

“Wh-”

“You’re an idiot.” His voice was a hiss- sharp and cold. “You’re an idiot who’s so used to his Devil Fruit he can’t tell how damn loud his voice is.”

Rosinante’s mouth went dry. He took a shuddering breath.

He almost didn’t notice Law start to cry; his shoulders shaking, his small chest heaving.

“I already said we’re family, didn’t I?”

Rosinante’s body moved before his mind could catch up, opening his arms for Law to fall into.

“I’m sorry,” Rosinante breathed, as Law’s arms wound around his neck. “I’m sorry for not listening.”

“Just don’t do it again,” Law snarled, but the sound was softened by the way he clung to Rosinante.

He let himself relax into the hug. Let himself trust that Law wasn’t going anywhere. Wouldn’t be lost to him in the night- to sickness or to Doflamingo.

“I love you, Law.”

Law’s hold tightened.

Rosinante had a son.

#mine #halfway through yall!#small changes fic #this chapter is about 6.5k words #donquixote corazon #donquixote rosinante #donquixote rocinante #god what if i just started tagging him as clown man to save myself the trouble #one piece #one piece fic #trafalgar law #monkey d. garp #monkey d. luffy #sengoku #must a story have a 'plot'?#is it not enough to string together found family scenes in various locations?#because i think it is

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clown-bait · 5 years ago

Text

Monster Family Ch10 (Monster Roommate Au)

Wow so its been like 2 months since Ive updated thats bad man. Heres this please dont riot. CH10 Pennywise, Banjo Enthusiast

Fuck this. Fuck Neibolt. Fuck Pennywise, and especially fuck pregnancy. Leech lay on her back trying her damndest to get comfortable. Which she was failing at since the only position she could lay in was reclining on her back. She felt like an oversized prisoner of her own home with her heavily pregnant abdomen. The vampire shifted then scooted then kicked and groaned.

"PENNY!" She called but was met with the eerie silence of Neibolt house. "Pennywise?!" She called again but there was no presence of being watched or bumps in the dark. The sound of kids giggling and running by outside jogged her memory. Oh right he's out having his cheat day at the carnival. Leech moaned in defeat and frustration. It wasn't fair he got to go out and enjoy himself while she was forced to only partake in "light excursions only" screw Dr. West what did he know about supernatural pregnancy. She was a predator and she needed to hunt, not wait to be fed like a fat baby bird. She resigned to reaching for her phone sending a text to her friends only to get back pictures of them also at the carnival also enjoying themselves. Freddy and Chucky held a decapitated woman's head in one picture like they had just won it at ring toss accompanied by the caption "Sucks to be you!" Leech growled and threw her phone to the edge of the bed in frustration only to realize that now she can no longer reach it. Great. Too big to move, too big to sleep, too big to kill. She couldn’t even fuck her mate anymore because he was too rough with her. Tears stung her eyes and her throat grew heavy. Was it stupid to cry over this? Probably. Did she care? Not at all.

Leech stayed in her bed and cried alone for what felt like hours. She didn't even realize how long she had been throwing this tantrum till she looked up seeing a pair of wide confused yellow eyes in the dark. She sat herself up and wiped her face embarrassed that he found her like this. Her mate stepped into the light a teen caught in his fangs like a cat with a dying mouse. The eldritch cocked his head to the side in confusion then dropped the half-alive body in his jaws pressing on him with a heavy boot to keep him down. he leaned into his mate who shut her eyes and swallowed hard as he pressed his nose into her bald head inhaling and exhaling her emotions In big warm puffs. Gingerly, he attempted to lick her only to be pushed away causing him to try again.

They didn't speak or argue with words this time, his attempts to comfort being met with angry frustrated hisses and grunts. Pennywise finally caught her cheek and gently but firmly held her in place as he kissed his mate. His lips drew back with a soft wet sound making a growly churr at her moving his thumb slowly over her cheek. He touched her like she was made of tissue, holding back the claws and violence for her. Only ever for her. Leech finally broke letting out a whine as she returned his gestures kissing his soft lips as if she had been starving for them. An action that did not go unnoticed.

"So needy today." The eldritch mumbled and gently pushed her back. He couldn't get carried away with her right now, she was still in a fragile state and he knew she couldn't take him no matter how bad they both wanted it.

"Pen please." She whined and pulled him back "Please you know I need this."

The clown shook his head, bells tinkling along as he did. "Feed." He said finally turning his attention to the teen under his boot. His prey was limp and taking shallow dying breaths as the clown pressed into his back. The eldritch picked his prey up and held him still, pulling his neck back for his mate exposing the jugular vein.

He guided Leech up despite still being a mess of hormones and almost commanded her with his expression to eat. She knew that this was a very big gesture for him and when the eater of worlds generously shares his kill, you accept. As she felt skin break under her fangs the clown held his catch still till he was sure it was safe to let go and settle next to her, patiently waiting for her to finish while warily watching just in case. Leech tore at flesh with her teeth till the head separated and tumbled to the floor then the right arm which her mate picked up and ate like a turkey leg. Her leftovers fell to the ground with a heavy thud when she finished, and her flesh-eating clown seemed satisfied she was nourished. His hands carefully grabbed her wrist and he began to clean her gently sucking each finger till the red was gone.

"Pen-" Leech began in a small whimper but found her mate pushing her own back till she was laying down again her eldritch horror trapping her in place with his massive form. "Shhh needy thing. You are unwell, let Pennywise care for you darling."

"I feel fine Pen, I'm not sick."

"No. Not in here" his hands moved over her bump and came back to rest on her temples. "In here silly. Such nasty thoughts and sour fear. No good for eating my love." He said in that sing-song voice he used to lure prey.

"You wouldn’t eat me." She taunted him a little with an exhausted smile.

"Mmm wrong, wrong, wrong again needy thing! I’m always hungry for you!" He chirped and nipped at her cheeks till he reached her lips growling deep as he kissed them. "Mmm too many bad thoughts in that pretty head, Pennywise can see them all." He mumbled "No missing out, no feeling bloated, here to make it better sweet thing. Promise promise." He pulled her on top of him before she could react, his warm body feeling like a security blanket protecting her from every bad feeling in her head. After a moment of holding her, his large hands rubbed her shoulders firmly massaging any places of soreness he could sense while he hummed under his breath. She knew he was humming something, she could feel a melody in his vibrations part of her wished she could hear it.

"Its a rhyme." He answered before the question even finished forming in Leech's head.

"H-how does it go?" She knew he didn't like questions but hearing the boogeyman of Derry sing wasn't something Leech was just going to pass upon.

"Are you requesting a private performance sweet thing?" He purred a hint of excitement slipped through his voice.

"It would cheer me up. " the young vampire smiled and felt his warmth vanish from behind her. He was suddenly at the foot of her bed holding a banjo beaming with pride.

"Is that a fucking banjo?" Leech sat up crossing her legs "you play banjo?"

"I have quite a few." Her clown said matter of factly as he sat to tune.

"You're a banjo enthusiast?!"

"I am allowed to have hobbies Peachy."

"Look I knew about the circus accordion but banjos?"

"I could just leave you know, could be off enjoying other things."

"Ok ok I'll shut up…..holy fuck a banjo…." Leech muttered to herself and heard a rattly growling sigh. His long fingers caressed the neck of the instrument finding his fingering before giving it a test strum. He then gently ran his fingers over his babies tapping his mates stomach softly to wake them. "You will enjoy this my little ones" he purred and began to sing in that warbled clownish way he spoke. His long fingers plucked at the strings of the instrument with care and precision.

Oranges and lemons,

Say the bells of St. Clement’s.

You owe me five farthings,

Say the bells of St. Martin’s.

His voice sounded like an unhinged Winnie the Pooh. Leech found it adorable her eyes trained on his fingers as they strummed the instrument. She didn't even notice her insides were glowing like a Christmas tree but still absentmindedly put her hand over the globe of her stomach feeling its odd warmth against her fingertips.

When will you pay me?

Say the bells of Old Bailey.

When I grow rich,

Say the bells of Shoreditch.

When will that be?

Say the bells of Stepney.

As he sang Pennywise grew more and more intense his voice began to distort and his smile grew terrifyingly wide. Leech could hear the ghosts of dead children join him then the rhyme grew faster and pennywise had discarded the instrument to sing directly at their offspring which flashed intensely under her skin.

I do not know,

Says the great bell of Bow.

Here comes a candle to light you to bed,

And here comes a chopper to chop off your head!

The clown snapped his gnarled jaws shut like a steel trap at the end and the disembodied voices squealed with laughter. Pennywise cackled wildly flopping back onto the bed in a fit of giggles. As he calmed he squirmed his head into his mates lap joining his hand with her’s over the infant deadlights which thrummed happily from their parents’ presence.

"That was the most fucked up and oddly sweetest version of Bitch Better Have My Money I've ever heard."

Pennywise purred eyes drifting apart and buck teeth poking out from his grinning lips. Anyone else would have said he looked like a freak but leech loved this face. Her beloved vicious monster looked so dorky when he was happy.

"Will you take me somewhere tonight? I promise I'll sit the entire time."

The eldritch's smile faded and for a moment it pained the young vampire's heart to see it turn serious.

"I wanna hear more music and... I think they do too"

"You're playing dirty." The clown growled. Leech awkwardly pushed herself up using pennywise to cling to. She hugged him instead of letting go flashing that pleading look letting her front fangs just barely poke out from her parted lips that were still wet from his kisses. "Please Pennywise?"

"Pity does not work on me, dear." He snarled and stood to leave.

"I'll eat your clussy if you sneak me out."

The primordial God stopped.

"And we have a winner." Leech purred.

"I didn't say yes."

"You were going to."

"Well now I'm not."

"You're a mind reader you know I was going to throw in a surprise rim job."

"............where am I taking you?"

"AND WE HAVE A WINNER!"

___________________________

"I like your hair like this."

Robert gray blinked to attention at the comment.

"It’s cute when it curls a bit." Leech beamed at him as he sat down at their table.

"Cute." He spat and scrunched his face with annoyance.

"Deny it all you want ruffles you can’t change my mind. You're cute and I'm into it."

"Gross" came Freddy's voice as he approached invited himself to sit Dracula trailed behind looking slightly out of place in his antique clothes.

"Shouldn't you be resting fledgling?"

"Oh come on Drac, I'm a full vampire now I go to the fucking meetings and everything." Leech huffed and rolled her eyes at the insult.

"Yet you make mistakes that will quickly lead to your early demise. If it weren't for our help you would have never survived your first year."

The younger vampire bared her fangs at her elder "Whatever dad."

"Your ego is rubbing off on her." Dracula grumbled in the direction of an unamused Robert.

"Can you blame him? His everything has rubbed on her at least once." Freddy snorted stuffing his mouth with pretzels.

"Was that even necessary?" The eldritch made a face at the dream demon who was getting crumbs all over. Leech brushed some off her shoulder and scooted closer to her mate.

"Hey assholes I came here to listen to live music, not a catty bitch fest." the younger vampire hissed and flicked a pretzel at her companion.

"Sheesh the pregnant brain has turned you into more of a bitch than before." Freddy grunted and flicked the pretzel back

Leech turned to her mate "Pen kill Freddy for me."

"Again?"

"Make it hurt." She snarled.

"Enough!" Dracula nearly shouted drawing looks from the denizens of the town. "We are in a human establishment you can tear each other apart later!"

"Don't tell me what to do daad!"

Freddy rolled his eyes. "Fangs stop dragging your daddy issues into things"

"I do not have daddy issues." Leech hissed.

Robert finally let free a smirk "You do."

"Wow, I called you daddy in bed one time."

"She calls you daddy?" Freddy perked up.

"I'm not addressing this." Robert waved him away staring at the empty stage.

"Sure thing Daddywise." Freddy snorted and Robert almost turned green at the name.

"No." He snarled through gritted fangs.

"Shh oh my god shut up boys my friend is up next!" Leech hissed covering Robert’s mouth who seemed a bit taken aback at the gesture. A year ago he would have bitten off her hand. He really has gotten soft.

The eldritch grumbled settling back into a more comfortable position to watch the human. The song he sang was about hell hounds and blood on one’s name. Something about the devil. Typical blues music.

"So this guy definitely knows Phill."

"Wow couldn't even wait for the song to end Fred?" Leech glared at the demon

"Wow couldn’t even bother to read into things a little bit Fangs?" Freddy huffed "you'd have thought you'd get less green as time went on. In this business, a mysterious guy singing about the devil means one of two things. He's made a deal with him or he's a demon himself. "

"Hey, so one fuck you Krueger." Leech hissed "and two why is it important that he's got dealings with Phil? We all have connections to Phil. Hell even I owe the guy a favor...which he hasn't stopped texting me about..."

"You owe Lucifer a debt?" Dracula's eyes went wide under his glasses. "And the two of you allowed this?"

"What we've all made a bad decision before, let the kid learn." Freddy laughed and knocked back a drink

Dracula turned to Robert who shot back a look of confusion.

"Pen was drunk at the time Drac, besides I'm a big girl I can handle running an errand for Satan."

"That man up there sings of oblivion. This is a death you cannot escape from."

The scent of fear wafted up against Robert's nose as he watched the man on stage finally realizing just who this "friend" really was.

"S-So I'll do what he asks it's no big deal." Leech stuttered and pouted like a child being reprimanded as Dracula continued.

"Do you even know what kind of debt you will be paying?!"

Robert could care less about the lecture his mate was receiving from her mentor. Shed complain to him about it later no doubt. He was more interested in the crowd around them. He sensed agitation from the townspeople some of them murmured words along the lines of "the devil's music" as Duke Rivers continued to play. He knew his town he knew what was coming and a debt would be paid tonight.

"Alright alright fine I'll text Phil back holy fuck." Leech hissed and half-heartedly tapped at her phone.

As Duke took his bow a group of men stood up off to the side watching him make his way to the bar.

"Alright, he got back to me…." Leech huffed and slumped against her eldritch who watched the men follow. "The fuck?" The vampire said as the group of men got closer.

"This can’t be right I don’t even fucking know who or where this guy is." Leech whined and slid her phone onto the table.

"What he got you collecting someone for him?" Freddy chimed in now interested.

"Yeah, he wants me to bring him my father? I never even met the guy!"

The men led Duke outside.

"Darling." Robert finally said quietly.

"Wait you think he means? No. No way Phil's got the wrong guy."

"I'll return in a moment."Robert sighed and the vampire abruptly fell back as her mate stood and vanishes into the crowd.

"The fuck Penny?" Leech couldn't finish what she said there was a shout from outside and the telltale smack of a fist against flesh. Leech stared out the door in horror as the Duke headbutted his attacker in the face. The rest of the bar seemed eerily unaware of the fight. There was a scream and the sound of a body being dragged before the door slammed shut.

Leech felt a lump in her throat "…d....daddy?"

Freddy pointed at her and laughed "HA I KNEW IT!"

#pennywise #pennywise fanfiction #pennywise x oc #monster roommate AU #it ch 2 #freddy krueger #dracula

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ketzwrites · 6 years ago

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Rewatch 106: Of Men and Angels

Not a lot of action in this episode aside from the blue flashbacks, but it is still a good one. The focus is on the family dynamics and I dig it.

Teaser

lol Magnus asks what happened to Luke and neither Simon nor Clary gives him the right answer. Luke challenged the alpha. He wasn’t “attacked” and we can see that he needs a warlock’s healing magic. Good thing Magnus arrives at the right conclusion on his own.

I don’t understand if Luke’s hallucination is a figment of his imagination or if it is a magical link to Jocelyn. All I got was that they are dressed as their younger Circle Member selves.

Act One

Sure, the Seelies want to be on the winning side, but this argument doesn’t work when the “winning side” wants them all dead. Also, Maryse was such a bitch.

Clary feeling guilty for doubting Luke is a great moment. So is Magnus hijacking Luke’s healing process to ask for Alec to come and see him. Smooth.

Alec thinks Maryse is on edge, Izzy thinks she’s acting as she usually does. We know Maryse is worried because the Lightwoods might lose the Institute. Supposedly, Alec is right but it’s interesting that Izzy doesn’t perceive a difference in treatment: it speaks a lot to her relationship with Maryse. Same thing with how Robert is affectionate with Izzy but goes straight to business with Alec. These parents clearly have favorites.

This suit and shirt make Max look like the rich kid that thinks he’s better than the other kids at the playground. I know kid-actors aren’t usually great, but this is the wrong fit for Max even physically speaking. Emeraude and Matthew look like siblings and they look like they could’ve been Nicola and Paulino’s children. Blonde, round-faced Jack Fulton? Not so much.

Jace changing “virgin” to “powerful” is hilarious to me.

The issue between Alec and Jace is quite interesting. On one hand, Jace is arguably breaking the rules to do the right thing: he’s helping Clary to get her mother back, he’s interfering in Downworlder business to save Luke’s life. However, Jace has and is able to get away with rogue behavior: in a few episodes we will see Maryse saying that Jace’s methods might be unconventional, but he gets things done. Alec is in a different position. He doesn’t get a pass; in fact, his superiors (who are also his parents) expect and order him to follow the rules. And it is only because Alec follows the rules and bears that responsibility that Jace (and Izzy) get to be the wild younger children. Jace deciding to go rogue is one thing, Alec deciding to go rogue is another.

I really like the uncle/niece dynamic between Magnus and Clary. He praises her a little too much, as previously discussed, but I guess Clary is one of the few people Magnus watched grow up. I’ll resign myself to him doting on her a little.

This macho-dispute between Jace and Simon is making me roll my eyes. You both fancy Clary, get over it. Luke is literally dying, so if you care about her, hurry up and help save Clary’s father-figure.

Simon pseudo-defends Alec while arguing with Jace and that makes me wonder how a friendship between Simon and Alec could’ve been had they bonded even a little in the last episode. That said, Jace freaks out again when Simons rubs salt on the wound: Jace and Alec’s friendship is strained and Jace loses it.

Act Two

I still love this scene between Alec and Maryse so much.

Honestly, the whole dynamic between Magnus and Clary is great. But the still “Bring it, Warlock” ruins it. Clary is about to learn how her beloved mother was a founding member of a blood supremacy group that preyed on warlocks like Magnus. Had Clary realize how racist she sounded and apologized by the end of the explanation, it would’ve been one thing. As is, the line is as tone-deaf as they come.

Kat looks nothing like the actress playing young Jocelyn. That’s a casting mistake because people literally take Clary for Jocelyn when they first see her. They should’ve chosen an actress that resembled Kat or let Kat herself play the part.

And now we get a parallel scene with Izzy and Robert. I dig the Lightwood family so freaking much.

The Clave is doubting the Lightwood command of the New York Institute because of the unauthorized missions Alec sanctioned. Which started after the Clave’s orders to keep Clary in the Institute back in 102. Let’s count those rogue missions, shall we? 1. searching for Dot at Pandemonium; 2. going to the City of Bones; 3. attacking the DuMort; 4. (arguably) meeting with Magnus Bane; 5. searching for J.C.’s box at the Fray’s loft. That’s about five missions (the Magnus Bane one might have been authorized since Hodge knew about it) that Alec sanctioned without the Clave’s approval in the span of about four days. No wonder the Lightwoods are losing the command of the Institute.

Act Three

Okay, Magnus. Sure, if it wasn’t for Jocelyn and Luke, Valentine would’ve taken the Mortal Cup. But if it wasn’t for them, the Circle wouldn’t exist either. One thing doesn’t cancel the other. They have Downworlder blood in their hands and Clary is right to be upset.

Alec’s motivation to go and help Magnus is reaching his breaking point. He’s about to lose the last thing he had, his private life. At this point, he doesn’t care anymore what the consequences of his disobedience will be. He already lost it all.

OMG JACE AND SIMON STILL HAVEN’T GOTTEN THE STUFF MAGNUS NEEDS. IT’S BEEN HALF AN EPISODE. THIS IS PISSING ME OFF.

Act Four

Sorry for the outburst. Anyway, how convenient are Simon’s hallucinations? Always when he’s alone.

Gay Love saved Luke.

It’s interesting how medieval the Shadowhunter culture is. More interesting still is how Izzy didn’t seem to understand that until now. She behaved like the wild child her whole life without realizing there would be consequences? Unfair consequences, but still. I guess Izzy is smart, but not wise.

Some Alec and Clary bonding. Noice. Another superficial making up for the Parabatais. Not so noice. I wonder why Alec doesn’t tell Jace about his impending marriage. Still, Jace is so emotionally dysfunctional he can’t even bring himself to articulate an apology to Simon for putting a blade to his neck, so the young men in this show aren’t exactly great communicators among themselves.

Maryse is so close to telling Izzy about her past in the Circle. Well, of course, she won’t, but she does tell Izzy about how she was wrong for thinking that she could “change the world by breaking the rules.” Only, Maryse’s rule-breaking meant killing innocents. Izzy’s rule-breaking means self-expression and sexual autonomy. There is an important distinction to be made there.

Wait. Is Luke implying that experimenting with Downworlder blood is what turned Valentine into a monster?

Act Five

Oh, yes. It’s the blood injections that made Valentine mad. Not his ideologies, not his jealousy, not his twisted principles. The Downworlder blood. This is bullshit.

I want to point out that Luke (and presumably Jocelyn) were still going on rogue missions to kill Downworlders with Valentine up until when Valentine set Luke up and left him to die. It’s important to me to point this out.

Act Six

While Izzy represses herself into the box her mother wants her in, Alec has that drink he postponed with Magnus. I dig this parallel a lot.

At the risk of losing my Malec card: Magnus’ iconic “you’ve unlocked something in me” line comes out of nowhere. He saw Alec twice: one time for a second or two, and another when they exchanged a few sentences and then Magnus proceeded to hit on Alec hard to little-to-none reaction from Alec. Then they talked on the phone. At this point, Magnus could, at most, feel attracted to Alec. Saying that Alec’s mere presence made Magnus think he’s ready for a serious relationship again is a little hard to believe. I prefer the “breakfast” 218 scene where both Alec and Magnus trust each other against their “better” judgment but also don’t want anyone to know they were nice to a shadowhunter/downworlder. There, I said it. Please don’t kick me out of the fandom. I still love them.

Luke is a little bit exalted, isn’t he? Kind of yelling. That’s a weird direction for the character.

Clary’s power of turning things into drawings was inherited from Jocelyn; they are not due to her pure angel blood. I need to remember that.

#ketz rewatches shadowhunters #sh 106 #sh meta

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thundercaya · 6 years ago

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requests are still open, so can we get thomas interacting with madison's parents please? good luck on getting 2000 followers!

Jefferson grabbed his phone off his desk and headed out the door, eager to leave his office and the Capitol before he could be detained yet again. Madison had left over thirty minutes ago and was probably eagerly waiting for Jefferson to bring home dinner. Once he was safely in his car, Jefferson shot him a text.Hey hon I’m finally out. What do you want to eat tonight?Can you bring in a pizza?

Not exactly surprising coming from Madison, but pizza hadn’t been at the top of the list since Jefferson had seen him eating a slice at lunch earlier that week. Still, who was he to deny the love of his life his favorite meal?Of course hon.As soon as Jefferson pulled out of the parking lot, another text followed. At the first red light, he glanced at it.CANCELHe didn’t have time to respond before he got moving again, so he simply changed his course from the pizza parlour to Madison’s house. He probably had a surge of heartburn and wanted something gentler for dinner.As he made his way up the walk, Jefferson did a mental inventory of what was in Madison’s fridge, trying to plan something he could throw together quickly. He opened the front door and called out; “Hon, I cancelled the pizza!”When Jefferson caught sight of Madison seated in the living room with his parents, he realized that the man had meant cancel the visit. Madison looked more resigned than anything, so Jefferson hoped that meant Madison wasn’t mad that he’d misinterpreted the message.“Mr. and Mrs. Madison,” Jefferson greeted. “I didn’t see a car outside.”“We took a mover,” Mr. Madison said, standing to shake Jefferson’s hand.“An Uber, Love,” Mrs. Madison corrected. She put her arms around Jefferson, pulling him into a tight hug. “It’s good to see you, Thomas.”“Good to see you, too,” Jefferson said as the couple sat back down. He didn’t take a seat of his own, wondering if he could maybe still make an escape. Madison was digging his fingers into the armrest of his chair and looking more and more like he wanted to become liquid and be absorbed into the seat cushion. “What, uh, brings you into town?”“We just wanted to see our boy and take him to a nice dinner,” Mrs. Madison said. “You too, of course. So I’m glad to hear you cancelled your pizza.”Jefferson cleared his throat. “That’s a very kind invitation, but while I can get away with having dinner with my best friend in public, having dinner with his parents might be a bit conspicuous.”“Fair point,” Mr. Madison said. “Maybe we could order in after all.”“I have a better idea,” Mrs. Madison said. “Jimmy, why don’t you drive somewhere and pick us up something?”Jefferson saw Madison stiffen. “Why don’t I go?” he said quickly. “James is already comfortable and I haven’t even sat down yet.”“He is absolutely not comfortable,” Mrs. Madison said. She turned to her son again. “Sweetie, a quick little trip outside is just want you need to calm yourself. I know you don’t like surprises and I’m sorry for just showing up, but if you take a minute to relax, then we can all have a good time. All right, baby?”Madison took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his fingers loosening from the armrests. ��All right,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “Chili fries are happening, and you can’t stop it.”Once Madison was out the door, Jefferson finally gave in and took a seat.“So….” he said, now that it was clear that the person they were really there to see was him. “What would you have done if we’d gone out to dinner?”“Asked you to drive us while Jimmy drove himself,” Mrs. Madison said. “Same reason, to let him catch his breath.”“Well, the chili dog place has pretty fast service, so what did you need to talk to me about?”“Here’s the thing,” Mr. Madison said. “The other day, Fanny was–”“Taylor, honey,” Mrs. Madison cut in.“Right. The other day Taylor was laughing at her phone, and when I asked her what was so funny she showed me one of those, uh, those pictures with words that people like to post around Facebook.”“A meme?” Jefferson offered.“Yeah, one of those. Jimmy had sent it to her, and I guess it was supposed to be funny somehow, and I don’t remember exactly what it said and she never told me how to find it on my phone, but it was something about suicide.”“Well, sir, from what I understand, that seems to be the kind of thing that kids today find funny.”“I know that. That’s why I’m not worried about Fa- about Taylor. But Jimmy is the one who sent it to her, and he’s not some ‘kid today’ with a weird sense of humor. He’s a grown man with a… history of worrying behavior.”“Jimmy has always been a bit… morbid,” Mrs. Madison added. “I’m sure it has to do with his first baby sister dying. But it really got concerning after that boy from Princeton passed away.”Jefferson furrowed his brow; he didn’t know about Madison losing a friend in college. “What boy from Princeton?”“If he hasn’t told you, I’m not sure we should.”Madison’s father put a hand on Mrs. Madison’s knee.“Nelly, the context matters here.”She sighed, putting her hand on his and squeezing before continuing.“His roommate passed away the summer after their first year. Jimmy went really hard into school after that. We didn’t think much of it because he was already going hard into school before that, but we didn’t realize it was worse this time. Towards the end of his second year, he passed out in class. Exhaustion, dehydration, low blood sugar. Now, you know Jimmy’s not a healthy-living kind of person, but that was downright negligent, and just not like him. We asked him what happened and he said why try to take care of yourself when you can just drop dead out of nowhere on a beautiful day?”“That’s what happened to the Princeton boy?”“Yes. He had a heart condition no one knew about. We took Jimmy home from the hospital. His grades were excellent, and the school was worried about how it looked for one of their students to have a breakdown, so they let him take his finals late. Ever since then we’ve had to keep an eye on him in case he ever got too self-destructive—or got more direct. You’re the closest one to him now, geographically and emotionally. You’re the one who can keep the best eye on him, and I’m sure you have. How has he been?”Jefferson took a moment, having to recontextualize his own observations and ideas about the man he loved with this information that had been previously withheld from him. The Madisons seemed to understand this, not prompting him to speak sooner.“He’s not the worst I’ve seen him,” Jefferson said finally. “If he’s making jokes about it with his sister, then he’s probably mostly fine. I think if it was something he was really thinking about, he’d avoid the topic. You know how nervous he gets about saying the wrong thing. I think a truth-said-in-jest situation would be too stressful for him.”“What….” Mrs. Madison hesitated. “What is the worst you’ve seen him?”Now Jefferson was in a bind. Of course Madison wouldn’t want Jefferson to talk about his lowest moments–didn’t even want Jefferson to see those moments if he could help it–but these were his parents asking, people who had seen similar moments themselves and were worried because of them. He realized, however, that the relevant information wasn’t what those moments were like, but how often they were, and what, if anything, caused them. They didn’t need to know about Madison dampening Jefferson’s tank tops with tears and stretching out the necks as he gripped onto the straps for dear life. They didn’t have to know about how hard it was for Madison to force a buttered cracker down his throat some days only for him to inhale a frozen cheesecake the next day without even bothering to defrost it first. They didn’t need to know about the nights that Madison spent on the floor next to the bed instead of in it, crawling under the covers just before Jefferson awoke, the imprint of his body in the carpet the only reason Jefferson knew. They didn’t have to know about the days that Jefferson wasn’t allowed anywhere near Madison, not a single text or phone call answered, and the edge of desperation Madison couldn’t quite keep out of his voice when he finally had enough of being alone and asked for Jefferson’s company.“The last real rough time he had was when he had to change his medication,” Jefferson said. “It’s been doing its job since he adjusted to it, but it was kind of giving him hell for a while there.”“He didn’t tell us he’d changed it,” Mrs. Madison said. “Was there something wrong with the old ones? Did they make him ill again?”“He did tell us,” Mr. Madison said. “Remember? He sent us a picture to complain how much bigger the tablets were.”“Oh, that’s right! He’d been on the old ones so long they weren’t working anymore. I wish he’d told us he was having a rough transition. It’s just like him to whine about the pills and not talk about what they’re doing.”There was a knock on the door, which was strange since Madison usually locked his gate. Jefferson furrowed his brow. “Uh. I guess I should check that.” He stood up from his seat and went to the door. When he looked through the peephole he saw Madison and let out a bemused huff. “It’s your son,” he said before opening the door. “Hey hon. Why did you knock?”“I’m absolutely certain my parents were talking to you about me and I didn’t want to walk in if you weren’t finished. I’ve actually been here a couple minutes, but I was worried about the chili fries getting soggy and cold.”Jefferson glanced over his shoulder at Madison’s parents. Mrs. Madison stood up. “Bring the food in, baby. I’ll set the table.”“You don’t need to set the table for chili fries,” Madison said as he moved past Jefferson to join his mother heading for the kitchen.Jefferson shook his head and let out a sigh before closing and locking the door. When he turned to move to the kitchen, Mr. Madison had stood up as well. He patted Jefferson on the back. “We can never repay you enough for looking after him.”Jefferson smiled warmly. “Well, don’t worry about that. He repays me tenfold.”Mr. Madison pulled a face and then turned towards the kitchen.Jefferson winced. “No, I didn’t mean–Oh, whatever.”

#hamilton #jeffmads #james madison #thomas jefferson #my boy madison #writing #depression #push to 2k #i'm so sorry this took me so long #i was super overwhelmed with wedding planning and... hating my job lmao #anyway anon i hope you're still around so you can read this #and i hope you enjoy it #Anonymous #modern au

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slothgiirl · 6 years ago

Text

Gold Dust Woman part 2

pjo x mcu fusion: annabeth is iron man

crossposted on a03

Katie Gardner is waiting for her when they land, pot of flowers in hand looking better than any bouquet ever could, eyes rimmed red from crying.

Annabeth feels like crying to, at the sight of Katie in her loose slacks and earth toned blouses, in a look that was all her, bohemian corporate as Grover had put it, easily making her short frame appear smaller. Trying for some normalcy she desperately craves she utters, “Tears Gardner? Really? I expected you to have tied yourself to a tree in the amazon by now.”

Katie snorts, the edges of her lips turning up as she studies Annabeth, “you know I hate job hunting since unfortunately we live in this capitalist hellscape.”

They both snort at that.

It was still crazy to think that Katie, her assistant slash nanny slash everything Annabeth could ever want, was a diehard hippie who Grover had met through his girlfriend. A botanist who railed against corporate farming.

“Speaking of capitalism let’s go get a Cheeseburger,” she orders grinning a Grover, in his frayed tweed suit, the only kind of suit he could stand, who’s always down for food.

He grins, resigned to her tyrannical whims once more. Who needed ubereats when she had him. Annabeth had even missed Grover’s stupid goatee he always sported.

“We can do that,” Katie responds, sliding into the car next to her, seating her plant and buckling it in as well, “after we go to the hospital.” Her tone carries the careful patience that parents have when talking to their kids. Normally Annabeth would be annoyed to be patronized like this, but she’s too relieved to be here, mind turning over all she has to do, all she should do now.

This time, she’ll do better.

She won’t let death be her legacy.

“Grover,” Annabeth states, a cold edge to her voice, “drive through in-and-out then to Chase Industries.” Her mind running over all she wants to say and what’s the best way to say it. There’ll no doubt be accusations of PTSD, which might be true if she’s being honest about it, but not about this. This is what she wants, what she has to do. If she survived for any reason when Hephaestus did not, it was for this reason.

Annabeth won’t design anymore weapons. And if that’s the end of Chase Industries so be it. She can do better. “And call a press meeting,” she adds to Katie, the right words evading her, mind still jumbled from jet lag and months as a captive.

“We’re supposed to meet up with Ms. Stane at the hospital,” Katie responds with a sigh, “and you need to go to the hospital.”

“I’m fine,” Annabeth snaps, “they already looked me over. What I need is a burger and to call a press meeting, in that order. Grover?”

“Yes Mam,” he says, voice dripping sarcasm, but takes the freeway that’ll lead to Chase Industries building.

“Annie, you have to go to the hospital!”

“I don’t have to do anything. I’ve been in captivity for three months. Let me have these two things Katie and then you can have as many doctors look me over as you want.”

Besides her, Katie sighs, pulling out her phone to call for the press meeting.

Arachne will understand once Annabeth explains herself. She hopes as she watches the scenery of San Fransisco go by from behind her tinted windows. Nothings changed.

It all still looks the same, people carrying on with their lives as always. For some reason, she expected everything to be different, but she supposes the world stops for no one.

Arachne will understand. She’s known the woman for years, her mother’s right hand woman, more business then R&D, the perfect foil to Annabeth’s constant R&D, and she’s always been in her corner, always been there for Annabeth even when the board tried to ice her out.

It’ll all work out.

All the junior executives are waiting on the driveway along with Arachne, hair streaked with grey and donning a classic channel tweed skirt suit. The sharpness in her eyes and lips ever-present despite the years.

Annabeth doesn’t hesitate to hug her as soon as the car pulls to a stop and she gets out, leaving Katie to trail behind her. She grips the older woman tightly, soaking in her crisp clean scent, worlds away from the cave. Arachne who’d always sent her christmas presents to her school, who’d made sure Annabeth didn’t spend her birthday alone after her parents had died in a car accident when she was eighteen. She’d whispered everything she needed to know about the other board members into Annabeth’s ear, who was cheating not their wives, who had dug themselves into a money pit and together they’d ensured the success of her mother’s company. Her mother’s favorite child.

“We were supposed to meet at the hospital silly girl,” Arachne says exasperatedly, but her grip is tight around Annabeth, despite the press and workers surrounding them. “Not here. You don’t have to worry about the company, just rest and recover my darling.”

“Oh you know me,” Annabeth replies, smiling brightly, “Ever the workaholic. Burger?”

“How thoughtful,” Arachne says with a shake of her head, reaching for the burger bag Grover offers her, already falling into place to flank her. “Still, you don’t need a board meeting so soon. Let me handle it.”

“I’m fine really,” Annabeth waves off as she struts towards the press conference room, “besides, everyone will be reassured once they see me in person. It’ll strengthen our position in the market.” All true, but that was besides the point. Their stocks were about to plummet.

“Will you at least tell me what this is about,” Arachne asks her, smiling and waving to the press, “I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”

Annabeth replies with a small fond smile, “you’ll see in a second,” then she steps up , looking out into the crowd of reporters, all hungry for something, for their pulitzer prize winning article. They lean forward, awaiting her words.

There’s a certain twisted pleasure at having this much power over people.

Thalia stands in the back, already in her nice air force suit, all her ranks pinned to her jacket like a girl scout. She hopes Thalia will understand too, even if she is military.

“Is it okay if everyone sits down,” Annabeth finds herself saying, letting her ice queen person slide away, already sitting down, back to the podium. “A little less formal.”

Theres a stunned silence, as they all look around at each other, chickens with their heads cut off, before following her example, lights flashing, documenting her every move. Nothing she isn’t used to dealing with.

Taking a deep breathe she starts, hands trembling, “I never got to say goodbye to mother. I never got to goodbye to my mother.” She looks out into the crowd, eyes unfocused, they all bleed together into the press. Not reporters, not people, but the press. That’s what money and power do, keeps you from seeing people.

Hoe did it take her so long to figure it out?

“There’s questions that I would ask her. I would’ve asked her about how she felt about what this company did-what it does-if she was conflicted. If she ever had doubts.” Try as she might, Annabeth can’t imagine Athena having doubts, a strong relentless woman. But maybe she just didn’t voice them to Annabeth. Maybe if they’d had about twenty more years they would’ve mended their relationship.

“Or maybe she was every inch the woman we all remember from the news,” Annabeth continues, thinking back on all the times she’d seen her mother on the news, in history class. The hard imposing woman who’d seemed less a woman and more a living legend.

Her lips are drawn, hands closing into fists in her lap, “I saw young americans-civilians killed, by the very weapons I designed to defend them and protect them.” The image of Chase Industries in her minds eye, over and over again, a second to read it before it blows up. “And I saw that I had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero accountability.” Her hands looking down at her kevlar clad chest as blood welled up,

Someone in her company had been dealing under the table. Maybe more than one. And there was really only one way to stop her part in all this.

“Miss Chase! Miss Chase!”

She motions to one of the reporters sitting close by her, “Miss Chase? What happened over there?”

There.

Afghanistan.

Like she was too soft to here where there was. Like she hadn’t been there.

What hadn’t happened?

“Ah-I had my eyes open,” she answers, standing up, resting lightly against the podium. “I came to realize that I had more to offer this world than just making things that blow up.” She had shelved renewable energy, her arc reactor hidden by the blouse and blazer she had on, in exchange for missiles and-there was a whole department dedicated to medical research she had only the most tangential knowledge of. “And that is why,” she continues, “Effective Immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Chase Industries.”

Chaos.

They all rush at her like sharks, smelling blood in the water. Arachne looks at her wildly, grey eyes widened with surprise, the full weight of Annabeth’s statement still ringing through her mind.

Fine. They’ll talk later.

Cameras flashing.

Taking a deep breathe she continues, “-Until such a time that I can decide what the future of this company will be. What direction we’ll take. One that I am comfortable with and that is consistent with the highest good for this country as well.”

“Okay,” Arachne says cutting her off, “press conference over.”

Annabeth slips aways, away from the stage, the noise of the cameras and people an erie echo to gunshots and soldiers younger than her dying.

She moves, walking towards Grover and her security detail, Katie smiling at her, shaking her head slightly. She must be pleased, the hippie that she is, but she’s also her assistant and she must know how insane it is.

What this could cost Annabeth.

So be it.

The arc reactor in her chest flickers as they drive to her mansion, the car deathly silent. She was expecting more outrage on Katie’s part. About how she should’ve gone to the hospital first.

But there’s only silence.

Her chest tightens and she knows she needs an upgrade.

Funny, now she’s just another machine now. She’s always been good with machines.

Fucking irony.

In her lab she’ll be able to mock up something better, with all the best tools and materials that money could by before the stocks tanked.

Katie asks tentatively, sounding unsure for the first time since Annabeth had hired her ten years ago, “scotch?” She looks at Annabeth like she doesn’t know her. Eyes wide as she studies her.

Annabeth meets her searching gaze evenly, “No thank you.” She needs a clear head and now she has a heart condition. She’ll need a purer palladium for the system, none of those scraps she’d had to used in the cave. That’s a start.

“Are we really doing this,” she asks annoyed, realizing Katie’s still waiting for some explanation, wanting to get it over with. If they have questions they might as well shoot.

Katie, who’s spent the last ten years by her side, anticipating her every need, making her life run smoothly, voices, “I-You know that the weapons manufacturing division of Chase Industries is where the majority of the earnings come from. It’s basically the taproot of the company.”

“I know what my company does,” Annabeth utters sourly, “I thought you’d be ecstatic. You’re all for disarmament. Against the Iraq war and everything.”

Katie scowls and Annabeth knows she's in for it. “Don’t make this about me. You’re right, I want nothing more than world peace, but not like this Annabeth. I mean, you can’t say you’re okay after being held captive for so long. “

“I know what I’m doing.”

With a sigh, Katie adds, “I just hope you’re doing this the best way you can. That you’ve thought things through Annabeth. Because for once, I don’t think you have.”

Her first night back home, and she doesn’t sleep in her own bed.

Figures.

“You have nice hands right,” Annabeth says via intercom to Katie, chest open, halfway through heart surgery, if her heart still worked. “Small dainty?”

“What,” is Katie’s reply, more amused then confused after all of Annabeth’s strange requests over the years.

“Just get down to my lab.” she hangs up, looking over the second generation arc reactor, steadier, more efficient. There’s still room for improvement, but it will do the job for now. No more flickering.

She’s going to need it while she figures out what to do with Chase Industries. What to say to Arachne when she gets back from New York.

Arachne had left her to go handle the board, telling her to keep a low profile while she wrestled with the finance suits.

It’s only ten and the stocks have dropped twenty points so far.

“What is going on,” Katie voices as she makes her way to Annabeth’s side. “Forget it, just tell me what to do.”

Annabeth laughs, “I’m upgrading my heart.”

“Jesus is that’s what’s keeping you alive?” There’s a mix of horror and fascination on Katie’s features, eye’s widening in curiosity, her rich tanned skin blanching as she sees the opened up wall socket in Annabeth’s chest.

“Was, it is now an antique,” Annabeth explains, holding up the Mark II model, “now this will, once you plug it in.”

“Are you sure-I don’t think I’m qualified for this.”

“Of course you are,” she assures Katie, she’ll start to work on the Mach II suit once this is done, “I need your help,” she admits begrudgingly, “And you are the most capable and qualified and trustworthy person I’ve ever met.”

Katie looks over her work station, Annabeth sitting back, braless, a hole punched through her chest, old arc reactor half out. She’d tried to do it herself and quickly realized that it just wasn’t going to happen.

She needed a second pair of hands.

Hands she could trust.

“Okay,” Katie nods, “just tell me what to do.”

“Okay,” Annabeth states, and she finishes pulling out the old reactor, hearing the snap of the wires underneath, the exposed wire causing an unpleasant mummer as her heart beats. “Just toss this over there and then reach in and gently pull the loose wire out, make sure not to touch the socket wall.”

“Like in operation?” Katie says, nose scrunching in disgust as she reaches her hand into Annabeth’s chest. This coming from the same girl that didn’t scream at the sight of bugs and worms, happy to dig about in the terrace garden.

“Yeah,” Annabeth, says, black spots appearing in her vision. “Just be careful not to lift the magnet attached to-okay to late.”

Katie looks horrified, sickly green rising to her tan skin, “should I put it back in?”

“No,” Annabeth says, hearing the monitor beeping like crazy, there was that cardiac arrest. It could be worse, “just plug it in now.” “Okay,” Katie says, voice cracking as she tosses the magnet and wire and reaches in again, the wires clicking into place and Annabeth can breath again.

Well shit.

“Thank you,” she says with a sigh. Closing her eyes, letting her heartbeat stabilize. Annabeth twists it the rest of the way into place.

“Are you going to be okay,” Katie asks, looking down at her with murder in her eyes.

Annabeth just laughs, relieved. She’s been feeling that a lot lately. With a titanium alloy she can make the suit sleeker, more energy efficient, able to withstand handheld missiles. And with this new mach II she’ll have sustained flight. She’s streamline the design. It’ll give her more speed, more maneuverability.

“Don’t ever, ever, ever ask me to do something like that again.”

“Who else am I going to ask,” Annabeth replies softly, “I don’t have anyone but you.” She can’t imagine asking Grover to help her with this. It’s a little sad, that her closest friend is her assistant.

Maybe that’s why so many men cheat on their wives with their assistant.

“What should I do with the old one?”

“Destroy it,” Annabeth waves off, already heading back to her work station, looking over the files and opening a new private folder, “Festus,” she calls out to her A.I. “keep this on my servers only.”

“Gladly Miss,” Festus’ voice rings out through the room.

“You don’t want to keep it?”

“Katie, I’ve been called many things but nostalgic is not one of them. I never look back.”

Thalia is mentoring a new crop of air force pilots when Annabeth walks up to her, giving her space to finish and wave them off. Her inky black hair pulled back into a loose pony tail, wearing her jumpsuit with the same ease she wore leather jackets; the Keith Richards of the skies.

Amongst the sea of cameo green jumpsuits, she looks out of place in her jeans and Barbour blue jacket. Too casual.

“Hey Chase, feeling better yet?” There’s an edge to Thalia’s voice, reminding her that they’d never really talked after the press conference. She must think Annabeth’s lost her goddamn mind.

“Shut up Thalia,” Annabeth says, voice full of annoyance, “I've gotten through so many medical evaluations I'm pretty sure Katie called up every doctor in the bay area.”

“She's a great friend that one.”

“Well I do pay her for it,” Annabeth jokes.

Thalia clasps her around her shoulders, “it's good to see you man, it really is.”

“It's good to be here.” Annabeth sides out of her hold, smiling nonetheless. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

“Of course not! Are you crazy! I love you too much bitch!” Her grin widens, offsetting her prominent crooked nose well. There’s lines around her eyes now when she smiles.

God, when did they both grow up?

“I know you do,” Annabeth states carefully, “I'm happy it was your dumb face I saw first. Wouldn't have wanted it any other way.”

Thalia snorts easily, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Which is why I wanted to tell you about something I've been working on Thalia, something big,” She goes on carefully, voice low. She's stabilized the thrusters, flying even at 1% power. Once the suit was finished, she'd be really able to fly, finally live in to her nickname, the modern day Da Vinci, if she ever told the public about it. “I want you to be a part of it.” She knew no better pilot than her friend.

“Oh shit,” Thalia says looking over appraisingly at Annabeth, “You're about to make a lot of people very happy Annabeth!”

Dread pools in her stomach. That wasn't what she wanted at all. Not even close.

“No-I'm not-,” Annabeth rushes to explain. “This is not for the military. It’s something different. I’m not, It’s different.”

Her friend’s smile drop, serious for once. “Look Annabeth. You've just been through an incredibly traumatic situation. You need some time to process and think before you go about making any crazy decisions.” Says the same girl who'd joined the air force fresh out of high school while wearing fuck the man pins.

“What happened to the girl who ranted about the school to prison pipeline. Who hated Bush?”

“She grew up.”

For the first time, Annabeth had to wonder if Thalia even cared about the civilian casualties. Or if she was so blinded by the bigger picture.

“Annie, I want peace as much as anyone else but that's just not the world we live in. Go home, get some rest and we can talk about it all later.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth replies numbly, already running through the calculations for height and trajectory. She might break a world record if she took ice freeze into account.

“Festus are you up,” she calls out to her A.I.

“For you Miss, always,” the comforting voice of her interface calls out as Annabeth powers on all the lab. Looking over the plans one last time.

The suit was laid out on the table, her robotic assistants had wielded the components together while she’d been out. It gleamed silver in all its glory. Sleek, it should run like a dream. “Time to bolt me in, run the video, test run # 1.”

“I thought we were on flight test seventy-three Miss,” Festus informs her of all the thruster testing she’d gone through, receiving more than a few blasts of fire extinguisher from butterfingers.

“Maybe I should tone down the sarcasm,” Annabeth teases.

“My system is merely a reflection of your programing,” the little shit responds. Good old Festus.

Opting for a compression bodysuit and leggings she lets the robots screw her in, the suit coming to life around her, powered by the same reactor that now powers her heart.

A problem arises when they get to her long hair, loose strands getting in the way. She sighs, annoyed, reaching for a pair of scissors, “Festus, you wouldn’t mind projecting where I should cut for a pass-ible pixie cut?”

“Of course Miss.”

Her dad had often helped Annabeth braid her long blonde hair, always turning slightly green after a summer of swimming. She’d never really learned what to do with her hair other than toss it in a bun to keep it out of her eyes.

Her golden locks fall to the floor after a few cuts.

“Give it to me straight Festus.”

“You look fine Miss.”

“Robots,” she says with a smile and the rest of the armor fall into place, locking her into her titanium alloy flight suit, equipped with state of the arts defense and weaponry system. Nothing but the best for her. Just in case.

She still wasn’t sure where she was going with this. What she planned to do when she was finished.

“Systems check,” Annabeth says, moving about as Festus analysis’ the systems one last time, getting a feel for the suit. She has nearly all her mobility, heavier, feeling strange as she peers through a screen instead of her eyes only, body sequestered from the world around her.

“Everything seems to be in working order Miss. May I suggest a one percent preliminary flight test?”

Annabeth scoffs, a giddiness taking over her as she realizes how close she is to flight. Real fucking flight none of that airplane bullshit. “Engage Heads up display.”

“Check.” Festus almost sounds annoyed, as much as a robot can.

“Import all preferences from home interface.”

“Will do Miss.”

She looks around the room, overlay informing her of all her options, all the tech specs. It’s a heady way to look at the world.

“All right let’s take her for a little flight.” There’s a buzzing down to her fingertips that not tequila could reach. All the possibilities, all the math and plans coming together at last. Annabeth is giddy with excitement.

“I would advise caution Miss.”

“Festus,” she says with a smile, hidden underneath her helmet, “Sometimes you’ve got to run before you can crawl.”

“The calibration is complete and I have been uploaded Miss.”

“Alright them,” Annabeth grins, “Pull up the ATC and weather.” And then the thrusters come online and she’s flying like a rocket out of her garage and into the bay like a shooting star.

The speed makes precision hard to achieve but she knows she’ll get better with practice. It handles like a dream. Banking curves up, down, side to side, as she weaves into the city, passing over the lights of her city.

With her optics she can zoom in on people, singling them out from far below her, before turning up to the stars.

“Okay Festus lets see how much this baby can handle,” Annabeth says, heading up into the sky, passing by clouds that promise rain later. Spring in San Francisco is just as rainy as winter.

“Tread carefully Miss,” Festus says, “we have not field tested the antifreeze measures.”

“Just let me know Festus,” Annabeth snipes back, watching as the height climbs hundreds of feet a second, the suit growing cold around her. “Make a note to improve Insulation.”

“Yes Miss.”

Ice forms on her helmet as they push seventy thousand feet.

“Miss,” Festus warns.

“I got it. Reduce power to one percent,” Annabeth mutters, and then she’s falling, gravity doing the majority of the work, her thrusters only serving to give her some measure of maneuverability. The feeling of falling races through her body like a live wire, fear and adrenaline mixing together.

She laughs breathlessly.

“Miss!”

“Deploy flaps Festus.”

“Got it Miss.”

She slows down, moving to point her thrusters to the ground, to the water beneath her, still high enough to escape the sea breeze. She yells with excitement!

“Fuck it Festus let’s head home,” she calls out, powering back up to flight mode and shooting home like a rocket.

With this suit, she’ll never be helpless again.

#annabeth chase #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #grover underwood #katie gardner #mcu fusion #mcu au #mine #idk if i want to write iron man 2 or thor next?

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pamphletstoinspire · 6 years ago

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THE BOOK OF TOBIAS Or Tobit* - From The Douay-Rheims Bible - Latin Vulgate

Chapter 10

INTRODUCTION.

This Book takes its name from the holy man Tobias, whose wonderful virtues are herein recorded. It contains most excellent documents of great piety, extraordinary patience, and of perfect resignation to the will of God. His humble prayer was heard, and the angel Raphael was sent to relieve him: he is thankful, and praises the Lord, calling on the children of Israel to do the same. Having lived to the age of one hundred and two years, he exhorts his son and grandsons to piety, foretells the destruction of Ninive, and the rebuilding of Jerusalem: he dies happily. Ch. --- The Jews themselves have a great regard for the book of Tobias; (Grot. Sixtus Senens. viii.) which Origen (ad Afric.) says they "read in Hebrew," meaning probably the Chaldee, (C.) out of which language S. Jerom translated it, preferring to displease the Pharisaical Jews, rather than not to satisfy the desires of the holy bishops Chromatius and Heliodorus. Ep. t. iii. W. --- The Greek version seems to have been taken from another copy, or it has been executed with greater liberty by the Hellenist Jews, between the times of the Sept. and of Theodotion. C. --- Huet and Prideaux esteem it more original; and Houbigant has translated it in his Bible, as the Council of Trent only spoke of the Latin editions then extant; and S. Jerom followed in his version the Hebrew one of a Jew, as he did not understand the Chaldee. H. --- The Syriac and the modern Hebrew edition of Fagius, agree mostly with the Greek, as that of Munster and another Heb. copy of Huet, and the Arabic version, both unpublished, are more conformable to the Vulgate. The most ancient Latin version used before S. Jerom, was taken from the Greek; and the Fathers who lived in those ages, speak of it when they call the book of Tobias canonical. S. Aug. leaves it, however, to adopt S. Jerom's version, in his Mirrour. The copies of all these versions vary greatly, (C.) though the substance of the history is still the same; and in all we discover the virtues of a good parent, of a dutiful son, and virtuous husband, beautifully described. H. --- "The servant of God, holy Tobias, is given to us after the law for an example, that we might know how to practise what we read; and that if temptations assail us, we may not depart from the fear of God, nor expect help from any other." S. Aug. q. 119. ex utroque Test. --- The four first chapters exhibit the holy life of old Tobias, and the eight following, the journey and affairs of his son, directed by Raphael. In the two last chapters they praise God, and the elder Tobias foretells the better state of the commonwealth. W. --- It is probable that both left records, from which this work has been compiled, with a few additional observations. It was written during (C.) or after the captivity of Babylon. E. --- The Jews had then little communication with each other, in different kingdoms. Tobias was not allowed to go into Media, under Sennacherib; and it is probable that the captives at Babylon would be under similar restrictions; so that we do not need to wonder that they were unacquainted with this history of a private family, the records of which seem to have been kept at Ecbatana. The original Chaldee is entirely lost, so that it is impossible to ascertain whether the Greek or the Vulg. be more conformable to it. The chronology of the latter seems however more accurate, as the elder Tobias foretold the destruction of Ninive, twenty-three years before the event, which his son just beheld verified, dying in the 18th year of king Josias. The accounts which appear to sectaries to be fabulous, may easily be explained. Houbigant. --- Josephus and Philo omit this history. C.

* One of the seven Deutero-Canonical books, missing from most non-Catholic Bibles.

The additional Notes in this Edition of the New Testament will be marked with the letter A. Such as are taken from various Interpreters and Commentators, will be marked as in the Old Testament. B. Bristow, C. Calmet, Ch. Challoner, D. Du Hamel, E. Estius, J. Jansenius, M. Menochius, Po. Polus, P. Pastorini, T. Tirinus, V. Bible de Vence, W. Worthington, Wi. Witham. — The names of other authors, who may be occasionally consulted, will be given at full length.

Verses are in English and Latin. HAYDOCK CATHOLIC BIBLE COMMENTARY

This Catholic commentary on the Old Testament, following the Douay-Rheims Bible text, was originally compiled by Catholic priest and biblical scholar Rev. George Leo Haydock (1774-1849). This transcription is based on Haydock's notes as they appear in the 1859 edition of Haydock's Catholic Family Bible and Commentary printed by Edward Dunigan and Brother, New York, New York.

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES

Changes made to the original text for this transcription include the following:

Greek letters. The original text sometimes includes Greek expressions spelled out in Greek letters. In this transcription, those expressions have been transliterated from Greek letters to English letters, put in italics, and underlined. The following substitution scheme has been used: A for Alpha; B for Beta; G for Gamma; D for Delta; E for Epsilon; Z for Zeta; E for Eta; Th for Theta; I for Iota; K for Kappa; L for Lamda; M for Mu; N for Nu; X for Xi; O for Omicron; P for Pi; R for Rho; S for Sigma; T for Tau; U for Upsilon; Ph for Phi; Ch for Chi; Ps for Psi; O for Omega. For example, where the name, Jesus, is spelled out in the original text in Greek letters, Iota-eta-sigma-omicron-upsilon-sigma, it is transliterated in this transcription as, Iesous. Greek diacritical marks have not been represented in this transcription.

Footnotes. The original text indicates footnotes with special characters, including the astrisk (*) and printers' marks, such as the dagger mark, the double dagger mark, the section mark, the parallels mark, and the paragraph mark. In this transcription all these special characters have been replaced by numbers in square brackets, such as [1], [2], [3], etc.

Accent marks. The original text contains some English letters represented with accent marks. In this transcription, those letters have been rendered in this transcription without their accent marks.

Other special characters.

Solid horizontal lines of various lengths that appear in the original text have been represented as a series of consecutive hyphens of approximately the same length, such as ---.

Ligatures, single characters containing two letters united, in the original text in some Latin expressions have been represented in this transcription as separate letters. The ligature formed by uniting A and E is represented as Ae, that of a and e as ae, that of O and E as Oe, and that of o and e as oe.

Monetary sums in the original text represented with a preceding British pound sterling symbol (a stylized L, transected by a short horizontal line) are represented in this transcription with a following pound symbol, l.

The half symbol (1/2) and three-quarters symbol (3/4) in the original text have been represented in this transcription with their decimal equivalent, (.5) and (.75) respectively.

Unreadable text. Places where the transcriber's copy of the original text is unreadable have been indicated in this transcription by an empty set of square brackets, [].

Chapter 10

The parents lament the long absence of their son Tobias. He sets out to return.

[1] But as Tobias made longer stay upon occasion of the marriage, Tobias his father was solicitous, saying: Why thinkest thou doth my son tarry, or why is he detained there?

Cum vero moras faceret Tobias, causa nuptiarum, sollicitus erat pater ejus Tobias, dicens : Putas quare moratur filius meus, aut quare detentus est ibi?

[2] Is Gabelus dead, thinkest thou, and no man will pay him the money?

Putasne Gabelus mortuus est, et nemo reddet illi pecuniam?

[3] And he began to be exceeding sad, both he and Anna his wife with him: and they began both to weep together: because their son did not return to them on the day appointed.

Coepit autem contristari nimis ipse et Anna uxor ejus cum eo : et coeperunt ambo simul flere : eo quod die statuto minime reverteretur filius eorum ad eos.

[4] But his mother wept and was quite disconsolate, and said: Woe, woe is me, my son; why did we send thee to go to a strange country, the light of our eyes, the staff of our old age, the comfort of our life, the hope of our posterity?

Flebat igitur mater ejus irremediabilibus lacrimis, atque dicebat : Heu, heu me, fili mi! ut quid te misimus peregrinari, lumen oculorum nostrorum, baculum senectutis nostrae, solatium vitae nostrae, spem posteritatis nostrae?

[5] We having all things together in thee alone, ought not to have let thee go from us.

omnia simul in te uno habentes, te non debuimus dimittere a nobis.

[6] And Tobias said to her: Hold thy peace, and be not troubled, our son is safe: that man with whom we sent him is very trusty.

Cui dicebat Tobias : Tace, et noli turbari : sanus est filius noster : satis fidelis est vir ille, cum quo misimus eum.

[7] But she could by no means be comforted, but daily running out looked round about, and went into all the ways by which there seemed any hope he might return, that she might if possible see him coming afar off.

Illa autem nullo modo consolari poterat, sed quotidie exiliens circumspiciebat, et circuibat vias omnes, per quas spes remeandi videbatur, ut procul videret eum, si fieri posset, venientem.

[8] But Raguel said to his son in law: Stay here, and I will send a messenger to Tobias thy father, that thou art in health.

At vero Raguel dicebat ad generum suum : Mane hic, et ego mittam nuntium salutis de te ad Tobiam patrem tuum.

[9] And Tobias said to him: I know that my father and mother now count the days, and their spirit is grievously afflicted within them.

Cui Tobias ait : Ego novi quia pater meus et mater mea modo dies computant, et cruciatur spiritus eorum in ipsis.

[10] And when Raguel had pressed Tobias with many words, and he by no means would hearken to him, he delivered Sara unto him, and half of all his substance in menservants, and womenservants, in cattle, in camels, and in kine, and in much money, and sent him away safe and joyful from him.

Cumque verbis multis rogaret Raguel Tobiam, et ille eum nulla ratione vellet audire, tradidit ei Saram, et dimidiam partem omnis substantiae suae in pueris, in puellis, in pecudibus, in camelis, et in vaccis, et in pecunia multa : et salvum atque gaudentem dimisit eum a se,

[11] Saying: The holy angel of the Lord be with you in your journey, and bring you through safe, and that you may find all things well about your parents, and my eyes see your children before I die.

dicens : Angelus Domini sanctus sit in itinere vestro, perducatque vos incolumes, et inveniatis omnia recte circa parentes vestros, et videant oculi mei filios vestros priusquam moriar.

[12] And the parents taking their daughter kissed her, and let her go:

Et apprehendentes parentes filiam suam, osculati sunt eam : et dimiserunt ire,

[13] Admonishing her to honour her father and mother in law, to love her husband, to take care of the family, to govern the house, and to behave herself irreprehensibly.

monentes eam honorare soceros, diligere maritum, regere familiam, gubernare domum, et seipsam irreprehensibilem exhibere.

Commentary:

Ver. 1. But. Gr. "And Tobit, his father, counted each day; and as the days of the journey were ended, and they did not come, Tobit said, Is he not put to shame?" (H.) and refused payment? C. --- Old Vulg. and Prot. "detained."

Ver. 3. He. Gr. "He was much troubled. But his wife said to him, the boy is come to an untimely end, since he tarries; and she began to mourn for him, and said, I am not, or am I not full of solicitude, my son, that I have let thee go, the light of my eyes and Tobit ?", v. 6. Without this interrogation, (H.) the Gr. seems to be corrupt; (C.) and wV, "how," or oi, "woe," should be put instead of ou, "not." Drus. Grot. &c. "Now I care for nothing, my son, since I have let thee go, the light," &c. Prot.

Ver. 6. That. Gr. "and she said to him, Be silent, deceive me not. My son is lost: and she went out daily into the road without, by which they departed. In the day time she eat no bread, and the night she spent in bewailing her son, Tobias, till the 14 days of the wedding were finished, which Raguel had adjured him to tarry there. And," v. 9. H. --- Thus the converted Jews lament that Christ should so long abandon their nation, while some hope like Tobias, and others are in more suspense, like his wife. V. Bede. --- So Catholics, in countries fallen into heresy, are in great distress for their brethren; (Rom. ix.) While some more confidently hope that God will enlighten our nation again, as sight was restored to old Tobias. W.

Ver. 8. Raguel. Gr. "Tobias," as v. 9, which is transposed.

Ver. 9. Days. It would require 42, (T.) or 38, (Torniel) or 34 days, (Salien. M.) to perform what is here recorded. H. --- But it would be difficult to ascertain the precise time. To go from Ninive to Ecbatana would occupy eight or ten days. C. ---If, therefore, the parents of Tobias expected that he would return in about 20 days, they might well wonder at the 14 days’ delay occasioned by the marriage. The distance might prevent him from giving notice of this event. Gr. "Dismiss me, because my, &c....no longer hope to see me again. But his father-in-law replied, Stop with me," &c. v. 8. H.

Ver. 10. When. Gr. "And Tobias said, No; but dismiss me to my father and mother. Then Raguel rising up, gave him Sarra, his wife, and half his goods, bodies, beasts, and silver." This expression, bodies, (H). or men generally denotes slaves; but it may also be put for others, (C.) who were in the train of Sara. Grot. --- Safe. Gr. "with blessing, saying, May God prosper you, children, the God of heaven, before I die; and he said to his daughter, Honour thy father and mother-in-law, they are now thy parents. May I hear a good report of thee, and he kissed her; and Edna said to Tobias, dear brother, May the Lord of heaven re-establish thee and grant me to behold thy children by my daughter, Sarra, that I may rejoice before the Lord; and behold, I place my daughter with thee as a deposit, and thou must not grieve her. Afterwards she departed, and Toby also blessing God, and he made his journey prosperous and blessed. Raguel, and Edna, and his wife." H. --- The Jews still adopt many customs similar to those which we here behold, as this is a most excellent description of a holy marriage. Serarius. C. - Some also prevail in the Christian Church, though marriage is now become more holy, and a sacrament. Cat. Rom. q. 22. - The proper intent of the contract, and many rites accompanying it, may be seen in the preceding chapters. W.

#book of tobias

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bluephoenixdruidicprincess · 7 years ago

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My Super Special Awesome Sauce Supernatural Re-Watch -- Season 1 Episode 18, Something Wicked

Welcome to my Supernatural Re-Watch project in which I'm re-watching every episode of Supernatural. Why? Because I want to. I've kind of made a name for myself in the Shadowhunters fandom for my love-hate relationship with the Freeform show. So I thought, hey, since I'm reviewing a sub-par show that constantly disappoints me (Shadowhunters), I should also review a show that I love. This way, when I'm critical of Shadowhunters, my audience can get an understanding of where I come from. What it is I look for in good story telling. Or they could think I'm a hypocritical idiot. Either way, I'm doing this. And also, I love Supernatural and I'm really just looking for an excuse to watch the show and then talk about it. Here we have episode 18, Something Wicked.

RECAP

This episode's teaser opens with a father tucking his young daughter into bed. The girl asks him if his mother is coming back tonight and the father replies that the mother is spending the night at the hospital with the girl's sister. Which leads us to believe that something is happening with kids here. As the girl tries to sleep, she begins to see a shadow lurking by her window. Getting a little freaked out, she gets out of bed to close the curtains to hopefully make the shadows disappear. Then a cloaked figure climbs through the window, into her room and approaches her. She screams as the creature bends over her.

Next we have Sam and Dean driving into town. For once though, they don't know why they're headed into this town. Papa Winchester sent them here but didn't tell them why he wanted them here. They resign themselves to asking around town to see if anything strange is going on. Dean doesn't find anything but Sam focuses on something strange. They're standing outside of a park. It's 4pm and there's only one child out playing when the park should be packed with kids at this point. The boys go to ask the one parent there what's going on with the kids. The woman replies that a lot of the kids have been hospitalized for an unknown sickness.

Sam and Dean go to the hospital disguised as CDC agents to find out what's going on with the kids. They talk with one of the doctors in charge of looking after these kids and he tells them he doesn't know what's going on. He doesn't know what these kids have. He's been diagnosing them with some sort of pneumonia but the kids aren't responding to the antibiotics. They're just comatose. He was seconds away from calling the CDC himself. Good thing Sam and Dean got here before that happened. One of the nurses tells them that this sickness works its way through families. A child will get sick and within a couple of days, the siblings will get sick.

Sam and Dean talk with the father that was featured in the teaser. He tells them that when he found his daughter, the window was open. Except when he tucked her in, the window was closed. He claims that there's no way anything would've been able to open it from the outside. Her room is on the second floor and there is no ledge. It had to have been the daughter. Since the parents of this girl are at the hospital, Sam and Dean are reasonably confident that they can investigate the house without being interrupted. When they take a look at the girl's window, they find a claw print on the windowsill which perplexes Sam because he doesn't recognize it but Dean suddenly knows why Papa Winchester sent them here.

We're sent to flashback-land where Dean remembers seeing that claw print on a photo as his father was about to leave on a hunt. John goes over his list of instructions to the young Dean telling him what to do while he's gone. Basic safety protocol. Don't pick up the phone. Don't open the door to strangers. And shoot anyone who tries to come in. You know, basic things you tell a 10-year-old when you're about to leave for a business trip. And most important of all, take care of Sammy.

We exit the flashback and the boys are getting a motel room. At the motel front desk, Dean meets this smart-ass kid he no doubt feels a kindred spirit towards. The kid’s mother shows up and gets Sam and Dean a room. While Dean waits to get the keys, he sees the smart-ass kid feeding his baby brother which causes another trip to flashback-land. Dean is making dinner for Sam when Sam says he doesn't want spaghettios anymore. He wants Lucky Charms now. You know how kids are with their dinner decisions. The problem here? There's only enough Lucky Charms for one person and Dean was planning on that being his dinner. He ultimately relents and lets Sam have the Lucky Charms but Sam surprises him when he grabs the prize inside of the Lucky Charms box and offers it to Dean in thanks for giving him the cereal.

Back to our main timeline, Dean tells Sam that they're dealing with a strigha that's basically a type of witch although Dean admits to not knowing a whole lot about them. He reveals that their father hunted one some fifteen years ago but it got away. Sam starts researching the lore and digs up more information on this creature. Strighas feed off of your life essence. Basically if it takes your life essence, you'll slip into a coma and eventually die. Strighas can feed off of anyone but they prefer children as they have a stronger life force. Sam also says that they generally appear as old crone-like women which is probably where the old women as witches myth got started. Dean remembers that he saw this old woman in the hospital. Sam is skeptical about this because old ladies in a hospital? Not super strange. But Dean also said that this woman had an upside down cross in her room. So yeah, she could potentially be supernatural. But apparently, the only thing that's supernatural about her is her ability to fall asleep with her eyes open. The boys meet up with this woman but find out she's perfectly human and the upside down cross is actually right side up. It just got tilted a little and was never fixed.

Sam and Dean make it back to their motel room the next day to find out that the smart ass kid's little brother is now sick. Apparently the strigha has moved on to this family next. The kid, Mike, feels responsible for his brother getting sick. That if he had closed the window, his brother would be fine now. Dean tells him that this absolutely is not his fault. As they're talking to Mike, the mother is rushing trying to get things together to bring the little brother to the hospital but is understandably upset. She gives instructions to Mike to take care of the motel while she's gone and Dean offers to drive her to the hospital as she's in no mindset to drive herself.

Sam goes to a local library to find more information on the strigha. He finds out that every fifteen years, this creature resurfaces. It feeds, then disappears for fifteen years, then finds a new to town to feed from all over again. And according to the articles Sam's reading, this creature is just getting started here. Only half a dozen kids or so have gotten sick in this town but in the past feeding cycles, dozens of children had fallen victim. They all fell into a coma and they all eventually died. Sam then finds an interesting article about relating to the strigha from the 1890s. Same sort of report he'd been seeing before. Children falling into comas and then dying. But what catches his eye is a photo on the article. It's with a bunch of doctors surrounding a patient. One of the doctors from this photo taken in the 1890s is the same doctor in charge of taking care of these kids we've been seeing. The same doctor Sam and Dean talked to earlier this episode. It takes all of Dean's willpower to not fire on this man right now. The strigha was just lucky Dean wasn't packing and Dean seems to have some minor issues with discharging a weapon in a pediatric ward.

Dean comes back to the motel and they discuss how they're going to kill this thing. Dean says that while no weapon made by God or man can kill this thing, it can be killed while it's feeding. Dean suggests using Mike as bait which Sam is vehemently against. Clearly something is really bothering Dean to make him okay with taking this extreme of a measure and Dean comes clean to Sam about why their father sent this hunt to them. Dean tells Sam that its his fault that the strigha got away all those years ago. That during one of the nights he was alone with Sam he was going out of his mind trapped in that hotel room and needed some air. He went to this arcade that was attached to the motel and when he came back he found the strigha bending over a sleeping Sam. Dean grabbed the gun and was about to shoot when Papa Winchester barges in and shoots at the strigha. The strigha got away but this is how Dean knows it can be hurt while feeding. Because Papa Winchester shot it while it was attempting to feed on Sam. John asked Dean what happened but Dean revealed that he had left the room for a few minutes and this caused John to lose a certain amount of trust in Dean. Now we can see why Dean follows his father so blindly. He made one mistake and his father's approval was gone. Their father sent them here because he knew this was unfinished business for Dean. That Dean still felt guilty about what happened.

Sam and Dean tell Mike what's going on and ask him to volunteer to be their bait. Mike is understandably against this idea. As Sam says, you couldn't ask an adult to say yes to this, why would a kid? But this kid proves he's one of the bravest kids ever. Seriously, he's right up there with Claire Novak from The Rapture (Season 4 episode). Mike is willing to do this if there's even a chance that it could save his brother.

Sam and Dean set up a camera in Mike's bedroom and Dean gives Mike the lowdown on what's going to happen. The strigha is going to have to get really close to him but as soon as Sam and Dean enter the room he needs to roll off the bed, get under the bed, and cover his ears as they will be shooting. The strigha takes the bait, they go in and shoot the hell out of it but it wasn't enough. The strigha gets up again and throws Dean into a wall and begins to suck out Sam's life force. Dean gets a hold of the gun and since the strigha is technically feeding off of Sam right now, the creature is now vulnerable. Dean kills the creature, Sam's fine, and Mike's fine. As the creature dies, it releases the life force of each child it had taken in this feeding cycle so all of the kids in this town who had gotten sick are now miraculously getting better. Yay!

Sam and Dean talk at the end of the episode. Sam feels bad that Mike has now essentially lost a certain amount of innocence. Because of what happened here, Mike will always have to be worried that maybe there really is something lurking in the dark. That sometimes your nightmares aren't really nightmares. Sam also tells Dean that he wishes he could have that innocence back and Dean agrees that sometimes he wishes that for Sam too and the boys drive off.

Thoughts

Here's the thing. If there's a particular brand of Supernatural episode that's probably my favorite in these beginning seasons, it's these flashback episodes. Whenever we get to see flashbacks where we see Sam and Dean as kids, I love it. It just really helps to paint a picture on who these two characters are, what they were like as kids, and how that molded them into the adults they are now. These flashbacks really endear me even more towards these characters. So yes, I love this episode.

What I also found interesting is that at the end of this episode, Dean kind of legitimizes Sam's want for a normal life in a way. In previous episodes we've seen a couple different facets to Dean's feelings on Sam abandoning his family to pursue a normal life. It went from being resentful to Sam to him really just being envious of Sam doing these things he never got the chance to do. Then with that acceptance of that jealousy, Dean became more understanding of Sam's desire. And in this episode he basically said, "No, sometimes I want that for you. I want you to have that life." I really enjoy that character arc on his acceptance of Sam's desires.

I like the symmetry in this episode that Dean was the one who couldn't stop the strigha in the flashback but at the end of the episode, they're in the exact same situation but Dean is finally able to kill the creature. Thereby finally setting things right to a certain extent.

There's also a nice sibling symmetry going on throughout this entire episode with Sam and Dean and then Mike and Asher. It's a shame that to my knowledge Mike has never popped back up in this show. I'd be really interested to know where his life is at now. Is he living a normal life while still watching out for his little brother? Or is he a hunter now still trying to protect little Asher? Did he ever come clean to Asher that there are things in the dark? It's been 13-14 years in this show's timeline since this episode. Mike and Asher have to be in their 20s by now. I wouldn't mind seeing them again. I mean, Claire popped back up in the story. Why can’t these two kids?

Favorite Quotes

Honestly, I love this episode. But it's more of the idea of the episode as opposed to any sort of quotes, per sey. The dialogue was very good but I was really more moved in this episode by the character arcs as opposed to the dialogue. So I've got one quote for you and that's it. The things I love about this episode aren't really dialogue related. They're things I can't really express through the dialogue but here you go.

DEAN: (to Mike) I'd give anything not to tell you this but sometimes nightmares are true. Protective Dean. He doesn't want to destroy this child's innocence but he knows he has to. They have no other option. I just really like this line. I think it's Dean on a certain level wishing he could have a life where he didn't know these things either. It’s about him not wanting to subject a kid to having to deal with this like he had to.

I'd give this episode a B+. It's always been one of my favorites. The flashbacks are beautiful and how it mixes in with the rest of the episode is kind of flawless. I have no complaints on it really. It probably would've been perfect if we had a little more humor in it but regardless, I still love this episode.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this episode if you have any. Please keep in mind these are my thoughts and opinions. You don't have to agree with them but you should still respect them. And as always, please no spoilers for Season 13.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural rewatch #spn rewatch #supernatural season 1 #spn season 1 #supernatural review #spn review #supernatural season 1 episode 18 #spn season 1 episode 18 #supernatural 1x18 #spn 1x18 #supernatural something wicked #spn something wicked #something wicked

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heartowrite-o · 7 years ago

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hrghgh okay this is long as shit so i’ll be uploading it in parts as i finish (i actually have several parts like immediately done but whatever. i might post them immediately after this idk) SO UMM i want to like clarify some stuff first! because im a jerk and i didn’t do it in text lol

Its a soul mate au for Dragon Age! featuring my Inquisitors and my friend’s! So im a loser and really into soul mate aus so in this particular one, basically when people are kids they get words on their arm that are the first words their soul mate ever says to them, and the words disappear when you meet them. CHEESY but its one of my fav soul mate AUs i ever saw so im using that.

so. only one of the Inquisitors is actually Inquisitor in this, the rest soooort of take the place of companions kind of?? I actually did put a lot of thought into who it would be so...It wasn’t chosen at random or anything! Also, if any characterization of your Inquisitors is wrong TELL ME! I am more than happy to rewrite things! In fact I would love to do so! i have so much fun writing for our Inquisitors that tbh i would be perfectly happy to change things to make sure i get it right!

theres also a lot of time skips in this. sometimes they aren’t clear. This is a rough draft! I have to go in and change how much time passes in certain parts, and also change up the tense. I wrote a lot of it in present tense but sometimes i slip into past (i tried to make it like, when characters are thinking, its past, when its actions, its present, which is not at all proper BUT LMFAO i was experimenting and trying to get in some present tense practice so idk it was fun!)

anyway hi. btw when i say its long as shit, i mean it.

The Trevelyan sisters are still just little girls when their markings show up.

Huddled beside the fireplace, Lana and Ariadne roll up their sleeves, exposing their forearms to the glow of the flames. Their parents stand in the doorway, eyes soft and smiles gentle as they watch their daughters giggle and compare the newly printed words on their skin.

“Hm...At least its not 'Hello'.” Lana muses, running her small finger along the length of her arm. “I was really worried. Mother says Aunt Lucille's soulmate mark was just 'Nice to meet you', and it took her nearly four years to figure out Uncle was meant for her.” She holds her arm up just a little higher, speaking the words on her arm slowly. “'Is it? I hope they're right about you'...I wonder what I'm right about!”

Lana erupts into another fit of giggles, and Ariadne can't help but release a sigh of relief as she looks at her own arm. She's just glad she has one at all.

“Mine says...'Perhaps you can talk some sense into her then.'” Ariadne tilts her head slightly as she speaks. “Interesting.”

“'Interesting'? That's it?” Lana feigns outrage, pulling her sister's arm closer to her face to inspect the words with a grin. “Its so specific! Mine is too though, we're very lucky, I think.”

“Lucky indeed, but its time for bed, girls.” Their mother finally says from her spot in the doorway. Lana opens her mouth to protest, but their mother gives her The Look, and continues on. “You'll have all the time in the world to gossip about your marks.”

Reluctantly, the girls rise to their feet, little hands clasped together as they follow after their mother. They whisper about what they hope their soulmate is like as they make their way down the hall, heads ducked low and hands raised to their mouths to hush one another's laughter.

For the next year of their life, the marks are a frequent topic of conversation, as the girls wonder and daydream about where and how they'll meet their future partners. Ariadne pictures a life growing up with her sister, being the first to hear the news when her sister finally meets whoever's words are on her skin.

Her magic manifests just two years after the arrival of their marks, and two months after that she's made to leave home, and spend what she assumes will be the rest of her life in the Circle. Lana and her write to one another, with the topic of soulmates dying out after her third year away from home.

-------

Ashala and Adahlen are just two of the many Clan Lavellan children who discover their marks on the same day.

Ashala stares down at her arm, like sheer willpower alone would make the words change. 'Greetings. My name is--' but it just stops there. It could be worse, she knows that deep down, but that doesn't change the fact she can feel tears beginning to sting at the corners of her eyes. She wants to know the name. That would make it so much easier...Why did they cut themselves off? What if something terrible happens to them when she finally finds them?

Beside her, Adahlen seems completely oblivious to her distress, and is looking down at his own arm with a knitted brow. “Mine just says 'Dragon!'...” The young elf suddenly pales. “Oh no. Do you think my soulmate is a dragon?”

Adahlen's brother—still too young to receive a mark of his own, yet old enough to not want to be left out of the loop, rolls his eyes. “Dragons can't talk. Why would a dragon shout 'dragon' at you anyway?”

Adahlen glares at him, but he visibly relaxes.

“Maybe,” The younger sibling continues. “Its a warning. Maybe you get eaten by a dragon when you meet them.”

Just like that, Adahlen tenses again, but the sibling's strange back and forth was enough to make Ashala giggle, and lighten her spirits.

After the initial excitement of the markings die down, the Lavellan clan children go their separate ways, except for Ashala and Adahlen, who linger beside the halla pen.

“You didn't say what yours was.” Adahlen notes with a hint of curiosity. “I bet its something embarrassing, isn't it? Was it as bad as Taren's said? I've never seen his face that red before.”

“No, it's...” Ashala clasps her hand over her arm, teeth worrying into her bottom lip. “Nothing like that. Its just a little strange, that's all.” When Adahlen raises his eyebrows at her, she shows off her mark with a resigned sigh.

“...That's hilarious.”

Ashala scoffs at him.

“No, not in a bad way! I mean, thinking about it is funny, isn't it? You meet your soulmate and they can't even get their name out. Isn't it fun to think about what they're interrupted by? Could be anything.”

“But what if its something bad?” Ashala looks down at her arm again. “What if...I don't know. Something goes wrong? You're right, it could be anything.”

“Anything. Sooo...why focus on the bad stuff? Maybe they can't finish their sentence because they trip, simple as that. Or maybe you talk to them first, and they're so nervous about meeting their soulmate they...throw up on their shoes, or something.” Adahlen grins at her, and Ashala can't help but smile in return.

“Creators, I hope not.” She giggles. “But...I guess,” Ashala eyes Adahlen slyly, “That's better than them being eaten by a dragon.” At that, Adahlen gasps, and although the two of them try very hard, they can't contain their laughter.

The two children spend a few more minutes discussing their future soulmates, before the Keeper calls Ashala away for training.

Over the years, the two come up with many more theories behind the words on their arm.

-----

Lana's head is swimming.

The dull throbbing pain she had awoken to had faded, but her hands were nearly numb with cold, and the bright green mark on her palm would send occasional stings through the entire arm. She shudders, mind still reeling as it desperately attempts to catch up to the situation at hand. She hardly notices another person has joined her newly formed entourage.

Cassandra seems to know the blond man who approaches, but Lana hardly pays him any mind. She's too busy staring down at her hand, at the glow that slices through her palm. It still feels unreal, like she'll wake up at any moment and find herself at home, waking up just before her trip to the conclave, when things had been normal...Or at least, a single thread of normal, among the tapestry of absolute chaos Thedas had become.

Lana vaguely processes that Cassandra has singled Lana out. Closing the rifts was hers, 'the prisoner's', doing.

“Is it? I hope they're right about you.” The man--Cullen--says. “We've lost a lot of people getting you here.”

Lana forces a thin smile to her face. “Well, that makes two of us then, doesn't it?”

There is little time for chatter after that. Lana finds no respite until after the fight against the Pride Demon, when she wakes up in a strange little cottage. From there she's ushered to the chantry, where her world continues to be thrown upside down. The mark on her hand, the Inquisition, the rift...It's all too much.

Its not until nearly a week after the incident at the conclave that Lana realizes her mark is gone. She's rolled up her sleeves to run through some training exercises with the soldiers (one activity that gives her a semblance of normalcy), when she sees her forearm is blank, the words she had stared at nearly every day since she was 9 years old suddenly gone.

Her training partner knocks her to the ground, and Lana doesn't get up, mind racing as she tries to remember all the conversations she's had with the dozens and dozens of new people she's met in the past week.

Cullen, she finally realizes. Her first conversation with Cullen. She'd been so busy being the 'Herald', she hadn't noticed...Did he know yet? Had he realized?

Lana accepts the soldier's hand, and pulls herself to her feet. She immediately scans the training grounds for Cullen, only to see him already staring at her. Another soldier is talking to him, but she's too far away to hear.

She is, however, close enough to see Cullen's face redden as their eyes meet. Close enough to watch him fumble and drop the stack of papers he had been handed. Definitely close enough to watch him scramble to pick up the papers, turn around, and flee up the stairs towards the chantry, while the soldier left behind scratches his head in confusion.

He definitely knew.

-----

The conclave had been a disaster in the most literal sense, yet Ariadne had managed to walk away from it not only unscathed, but with a new friend.

She had arrived with her Circle, and left with the only other survivor she had seen, an elven girl by the name of Ashala, who had gone with a few members of her clan. The chaos at the Temple of Sacred Ashes had been...unimaginable. The strange green gashes in the sky, that spit out an endless supply of demons...it felt like something the templars would have made up to scare mages into behaving. Stay in the Circle, or the sky itself will split apart because of you, naughty mages.

Ariadne was sure she had survived only by running—quite literally—into Ashala, who had been nearly as terrified and disoriented as her. The two mages had fought their way out of the temple together, and after not being able to find any of the parties they had arrived with, decided it would be safer to put off parting ways.

They put it off for days, then weeks, then a month, as the girls wandered the Hinterlands, and avoided the templars together. Ashala should have been safe from them, but the templars camping along the roads didn't seem to care if a mage was Dalish or not, as the two girls had discovered the hard way. They had escaped, however, and now tread a bit more carefully through the woods.

“I think we can reach Redcliffe by tomorrow.” Ashala smooths the map out along the ground in front of the fire Ariadne was attempting to tend to. “We're somewhere around here, so if we get up early, and don't make any stops, we could get there before sundown.”

“Thank the Maker.” Ariadne sighs, leaning back onto her heels now that the fire was steady. “We can get more supplies before we keep going north.”

Ashala nods, and for an hour the girls sit in a comfortable silence with one another. It isn't until the flickering of the fire casts light onto Ashala's arm that Ariadne breaks the silence.

“You've still got your mark...Is it weird that I was worried about meeting them at the conclave? I didn't talk to anyone while I was there.”

Ashala turns to look at her. “I don't think its weird. Nobody was expecting it to go as badly as it did but...I don't think many of us thought it'd end well, either.”

“I was so worried about it being a mage from another Circle. If things went badly, I never would have gotten to see them again...But my mark's still here. I suppose I've still got a chance to meet them.”

“I'd say you have a better chance now than you would have before, wouldn't you? You're not stuck in one Circle anymore. They could be anywhere out here.”

“It feels silly, doesn't it? What happened at the conclave, us just trying to make it back to the Free Marches...yet I keep thinking about my soulmate. I've got much more important things to be doing.”

Ashala laughs, and pulls a blanket out of her pack. She nestles down besides the fire, the flames flickering in the reflection of her eyes. “Its silly, but silly can be good. I'd rather feel silly than hopeless...We should sleep though. We need to be up early to get to Redcliffe tomorrow.”

Ariadne hums her agreement, and after a few more minutes of silent contemplation, she drifts to sleep.

------

Lana had only returned to Redcliffe to grab a few supplies needed for Skyhold repairs, but the sight of the lake and the cool air wafting off of it was a welcome change from the heights of Skyhold, beautiful as it may be. Weeks of overseeing rampart repairs and breaking up arguments over just how many pots the garden really needed, could certainly make even a fortress begin to feel cramped. It was nice to be at sea-level again.

She hadn't come alone, of course. Now that she was Inquisitor, it would just be too dangerous to wander about on her own, she was far too important. Not, however, important enough to avoid manual labor, or personally picking every single elfroot in the Hinterlands for the garden back at Skyhold.

Vivienne, Varric, and Sera had all accompanied her, a party that she had regretted nearly the moment they had left the gates. Sera and Vivienne could hardly be expected to be civil to one another for more than thirty seconds at a time, with today apparently being an especially bad day, as they couldn't even make it five.

Now the four of them stood on Redcliffe's docks, bags full of plants and minerals Lana couldn't be bothered to scour the hillsides for herself. Its uncharacteristically quiet for her group, but she figures that Vivienne and Sera have finally run out of insults for one another. It only took them fourteen hours.

Sera finally breaks the silence, not with insults towards Vivienne, but to stand beside Lana as she overlooks the lake, and offer her a sly grin.

“You avoided Cullen when we left.” She says.

“I didn't.” Lana replies.

“Did too. I saw it. You two looked right at each other, didn't say anything, then left. Cullen nearly fell down the stairs.”

“The soldiers caught him.”

“Yeah. So whats wrong? Why are the lovey-dovey soul mates not talking?”

Lana pinches the bridge of her nose. “We keep trying to talk about it but its just...Its weird. I hardly know him at all, but I know I'm supposed to be with him.”

“What, you don't like him?”

“No, that's not it. I like him a lot. When we do talk, hes very sweet. He just gets weird when I bring up the soul mate thing, then he always finds an excuse to leave. I'm the Inquisitor, you think I'd be the busy one, but Cullen can make anything into an emergency.”

“Ha.”

“Its not funny!”

“It is.”

“Alright, sometimes its a little funny. I just don't know why he's so nervous. We already know we're each other's soul mate, that cat left the bag awhile ago—the bag is in absolute shreds. I just want to talk to him about it without him getting up to leave, or spitting up on his shoes.”

“Lana?” Both Sera and Lana lift their gazes from the lake, turning with mirrored curious looks to see who had called out to the Inquisitor.

Lana stares at the two girls standing on the dock, one human, one elven, both with red hair. The human girl's hair was a much brighter shade of orange, framing her freckled face and her wide blue eyes that were beginning to water.

There was no way.

After the conclave, Lana had refused to believe her sister had been among the casualties. She had given Leliana a description of her sister and begged the spymaster to find her, because she had to be out there somewhere still. Lana wouldn't let herself think otherwise, no matter how many times Leliana returned to her empty handed. She couldn't believe her sister was dead, but over time, she had begun to lose hope of the possibility of ever seeing her again.

The red-haired woman in front of her—Ariadne, her sister, opens her mouth to speak again, but Lana rushes to her, pulling her in for the tightest hug she could manage. Ariadne wheezes at the sudden contact, but quickly squeezes Lana just as hard.

“What are you doing here?” Ariadne says, her voice wavering.

“Me? What are you doing here?” Lana huffs out a laugh. “I don't even care. I'm just so glad you're okay. I thought I'd never get to see you again. After all the Circles...I just didn't think I'd ever find you.” She finally pulls away, but she keeps her hands on her sister's shoulders, studying her at arms length. “Are you alright? Your clothes are so dirty! And whats that scratch on your face from?” She glances at her sister's companion, who is looking a touch uncomfortable to suddenly be scrutinized by both Lana, and Lana's friends who are all still lingering on the dock, who watch with expressions in different stages of 'befuddled'. “Who is this?”

“This is Ashala. We ran into each other at the conclave. I don't think I would have survived without her help.”

“Oh. Well then, thank you, Ashala.” Lana says sincerely. Ashala squeaks out something unintelligible in response, nods, then quickly averts her gaze again. Lana doesn't push her for more—Ariadne was shy around strangers too. She knew when to back off.

“Lana, what are you doing in Redcliffe though? I thought for sure you'd be back home. I was going to make my way there, we could have just barely missed each other.”

Lana blinks, now hit with the realization that Ariadne has no idea about this messy Inquisitor business. “Its...a very long story, Ariadne. I've got a camp set up, how about I tell you on the way there? Your friend should come too...”

-----

When Ashala had decided she and Ariadne should stick together, she wasn't sure exactly how things would end up. She had assumed they would travel together until they reached the Free Marches, then go their separate ways in search of their families. Of all the possible outcomes to their fateful meeting, she certainly hadn't pictured winding up at an old fortress, with Ariadne's sister leading a literal army, to be one of them. It wasn't really even on the list.

She was grateful nonetheless, even if she felt terribly out of place in Skyhold. After they camped outside Redcliffe and heard Lana's tale, they had made for the mountains immediately. The air was much thinner than she was used to, but she'd learn to deal with it.

Ashala was overjoyed for Ariadne, she really was, but she did miss her company. Ariadne had spent the last few days trailing after Lana, while Ashala mostly stood around feeling and looking rather awkward. She'd eventually made herself cozy in the library, where she met a few member's of Lana's Inquisition—Dorian, in particular, who was quite nice, and despite how nervous and out of sorts she was feeling, he could still get a chuckle out of her now and then.

The rest of Lana's friends had been out running errands for her, so aside from the advisers and the trio she had met back in Redcliffe, Ashala and Ariadne were both still waiting to be introduced to the rest of the essential members of the Inquisition.

Ashala was currently passing her time in the library, nose buried in a book. She glances up over the top of it just as Lana pokes her head into the library, beckoning Ashala over once she catches sight of her curled up in a plush chair.

“There you are! Should have figured,” Lana grins at her, and Ashala offers a much softer smile in return. “The rest of the gang is back. I sent them to look for stuff in the Fallow Mire, so they're all just a tiny bit crabby I think, but come on, I'll introduce you.”

“What about Ariadne?”

“Oh. I accidentally let slip that I've got the arcanist working on something, and she left to go check it out. I'll grab her in a minute, but come on.”

She was a little reluctant to leave her chair and book behind, but Ashala slowly unfurls herself from her seat, and sets the book gently onto the table beside her. Lana gives her another smile, and although her enthusiasm couldn't be called 'infectious', it does help ease Ashala's nerves, just a little.

They don't have to go very far before the first bit of introductions were to be made. The two girls merely go a single floor down, to the rotunda that had been empty during Ashala's initial stay here. Now it containes a single occupant, who was standing on a wooden scaffold, paint brush in hand, staring intently at the wall.

“Welcome back.” Lana says. The elven man on the scaffold glances down at them at first, but then turns to regard them directly when he sees Lana has someone with her.

His hello takes the form of a simple “Inquisitor.”, and a nod.

“We've got some new guests. My sister and her friend.” She pats Ashala on the back. “This one is the friend. Her name is Ashala.”

“Greetings. My name is--”

He doesn't get the chance to finish, as an interruption in the form of an absolute cacophony of bird shrieks erupts from above them. All three crane their gaze up towards the spymaster's third floor, where crows flit about, and dive down towards them.

Sera runs out from the stairway soon after. “Didn't do it!” She claims as she sprints past them, Leliana hot on her heels.

Its chaos after that, agents running this way and that, trying to corral the birds back into cages. The painter from before has come down off the scaffold, and is busy trying to pry a bit of parchment from a bird's beak.

Ashala is ushered away from the scene of the crime, and is given introductions to the rest of Lana's team, but she doesn't process any of it. Her mind is still back on the man with the paintbrush, of his words to her, his unfinished introduction. She still doesn't know his name, but she knows who he is now. Ashala knows that when she next rolls up her sleeves to look at her arm, the words she had spent her whole life pondering over will no longer be there.

Once she had met everyone, Lana says her goodbye, then leaves Ashala alone with her thoughts in the library. Her face is still flushed with embarrassment, and excitement, and although she already knows what will be there—or won't be there, Ashala pulls up her sleeve to look down at her arm anyway. She can feel her heartbeat in her throat when nothing but bare skin is underneath the fabric.

-----

“Tomorrow I want you to meet everyone then.” Lana says, chin resting in her palm, her elbow against the arm of the chair she's pulled up next to the fireplace.

Ariadne is seated on the other chair beside her, practically mirroring her sister. “Of course. Sorry, I just got kind of carried away. Your arcanist is amazing.”

“Amazing, hm?” Lana wiggles her eyebrows.

“Not like that!” Ariande laughs. “I admire her, but not in that sort of way. Besides, my marks still here, and I exchanged plenty of words with her.”

Lana moves her gaze to the fireplace. “I met mine.”

“Your...? Oh!” Ariadne leans in close. “You did?! When? Who? Just recently? Awhile ago?”

“Temple of Sacred Ashes. Cullen. Just after the conclave.”

Ariadne stares at her. Lana has no clue what else she should say. Cullen was an ex-templar after all, maybe Ariadne wouldn't approve. Lana couldn't make them get along, she wouldn't even try, because that wouldn't be fair to her sister, but--

“Cullen? The blond sweaty one?”

“Sweaty?!”

“Every time we went to talk to him, he'd sweat like Andraste herself had descended from the sky and told him she didn't like his attitude. I honestly thought perhaps he's been grievously ill all this time, Lana. It makes much more sense now.”

“Oh. Well. Yes. The blond sweaty one.”

“So...how is it?”

“Hows what?”

“I don't know. Whatever happens when you meet your soul mate, I suppose.”

“We...haven't talked about it much. He gets a little weird when I bring it up.”

“Hence the sweat.”

“Yes. I don't know, Ariadne, maybe he doesn't like me? Maybe that's why he's so uncomfortable with all of this. I didn't even think it was possible to not like your soul mate, but what if I'm just the exception to that? What if he's so upset that I'm his soul mate that he can't deal with--”

“Lana I think its probably the opposite? He's likely just anxious.” Ariadne leans back into her chair again, crossing one leg over the other. “Like... he meets this girl, his soul mate, and she's also the Herald of Andraste? Maybe...Don't bring it up anymore. At least for awhile?”

“Are you sure that's a good idea?”

“No.” Ariadne shrugs. “But it makes sense, don't you think? If you're soul mates, you'll always be soul mates, even if you don't talk about it. You're meant to be together, so maybe get to know each other first. Then everything will fall into place.”

“Aw.” Lana reaches over and ruffles Ariadne's hair, her sister letting out an indignant squawk as she did so. “You know just what to say to make me feel better. You always do.”

------

Ariadne had spent the morning in the library with Ashala, who seemed more quiet than usual. She had been perfectly polite of course, greeting Ariadne with a smile, and a pat against the empty chair beside her to welcome Ariadne's company, but hadn't said anything further.

Ariadne was curious, but wouldn't pry into Ashala's affairs unless she was invited to. If something had happened, Ashala would tell her in time.

They read in silence most of the morning, until Ariadne began to grow restless, thinking that Lana would have come to get her to introduce her to the rest of the team by now. Ashala had already gotten the grand tour—which, now that she thought about it, might be the reason her friend was so quiet. Perhaps the rest of Lana's friends were...not great?

She excuses herself, offering a goodbye to Ashala before returning her book to the shelf, and descends the stairs to hunt down her sister. Her days in Skyhold had yet to be enough to really give her any sense of direction in the place, and Ariadne ends up wandering through the halls, finding the kitchen, the garden, the stairs up to Lana's room, and even winds up going through Cullen's office (where the two of them awkwardly nod at one another before Cullen flees from his own room), until finally Ariadne finds herself in the courtyard's training area.

Lana was there, luckily, talking to a tall woman with dark hair cut short to her head. Perhaps 'talking' wasn't the proper word for it, since both of their faces were contorted into scowls—with the woman Ariadne didn't recognize having a much more impressive one.

“Inquisitor, its not that easy.”

“I didn't say it would be easy.” Lana retorts. “That doesn't change the fact I think it needs to be done. Or do you still not believe what I saw?”

“I read the report, Inquisitor, I believe you. That does not mean we should--”

“Cassandra, I've talked to the blacksmith and Dagna, they both agree that its the strongest--”

“I'm aware of the strength of dragon scales, but the dangers outweigh any potential--”

“--So if we can just get even a little bit of dragon scale or bone, we could craft weapons to give us the advantage! I think its worth it, Cassandra. You and I have fought demons countless times, we both know how strong some of them can be. I saw that future Corypheus created back in Redcliffe, I want any edge we can get.”

The woman Lana was arguing with—Cassandra, apparently--throws her arms up in the air with a frustrated sigh. “So we risk our life, your life, for this? Slaying a dragon isn't--”

“Haven't you already done it?”

“Which is exactly why you should listen to me!”

Lana was ready with an argument, Ariadne could see it on her face., but her sister's mouth snaps shut at the sight of Ariadne lingering just a few feet away. There is a moment of tense silence, where Lana and Cassandra quietly fume and glare at each other, but eventually Lana waves Ariadne over.

“Cassandra, this is my sister, Ariadne. Ariadne, this is Cassandra.” Lana says through clenched teeth.

Cassandra looks Ariadne up and down, before sighing. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into her then.”

Ariadne's spine goes rigid. Lana doesn't seem to notice, and barrels ahead to resume her argument. “Really? Cassandra, you can stay here then. I'm going after a dragon, we need the materials, but I don't need your help to do it.” Lana pats Ariadne on the back. “Ari, come find me in the tavern. I'll introduce you to Bull.”

Lana leaves after that, and with the way she had worded things, Ariadne assumes she does not intend for her to follow right away, and needs time to cool off.

Which leaves Ariadne standing alone in the courtyard with the woman her sister had just been arguing with. A woman who was apparently her soul mate. Ariadne didn't spend days in the Circle staring wistfully at the words on her arm just to forget them now.

“I apologize. This was not very becoming of me. Your sister...She's a good leader. I do not want you to assume I disrespect her decisions, I just...”

“Question them?” Ariadne finishes.

Cassandra nods, then her eyes suddenly light with an understanding that Ariande was sure had been flickering on her own face just moments before. “Oh! You--”

“Yes. Um...”

Cassandra seems to have been just as aware of her own markings as Ariadne had been. She steps a little closer, and for just a split second Ariadne is sure she's going to go for a hug, but Cassandra sticks out her hand instead.

Ariadne takes it lightly, and shakes. She giggles a little, feeling like they're sealing a deal, agreeing to some sort of contract instead of meeting their soul mates.

“I'm Cassandra Pentaghast. I should have introduced myself properly earlier, rather than wait for the Inquisitor to do so.”

“Its fine! Please don't worry about it. Um...Well, Lana already said so but, ah, I'm Ariadne. Its very nice to meet you, Cassandra.”

They fall silent, but their hands remain in one another's grasp. Ariadne isn't sure how its possible, but this meeting is managing to be both more awkward than she had imagined, but far better than she had predicted. She's uncomfortable, but in her usual sort of way that she is around strangers. Yet there is this underlying feeling in the pit of her stomach, a spark of understanding that yes, this is her soul mate, she doesn't even know her, but Ariadne already loves her. Or she will. She knows she will.

“Lana is waiting for you so...” Cassandra is looking down at their hands.

“Oh. Right.” Ariadne still doesn't let go. Some spell might be broken once she does.

“We can talk about this later.” Cassandra says it, but Ariadne can detect a hint of hopefulness in her voice. She's asking for permission, this isn't a statement.

“Yes. Of course.” Ariadne replies, and both of them relax, finally letting their hands fall back to their sides. Cassandra nods at her as she turns to leave, and although Ariadne is still excited to meet the rest of Lana's friends, she's pretty sure none of them will top this one.

-----

Ashala ends up going along with Lana to find a dragon. After hearing the rundown of the argument from Ariadne, Ashala and her brainstorm a way to get supplies the safest way possible. There was no way for it to be entirely danger-free, but the two of them had come up with a plan to possibly get at least a small amount of scales without confronting a dragon at all.

A large portion of the Hinterlands was dragon territory, one that was predominantly active during the day. If they camped out on the outskirts the night before, they could possibly make it to the nest early in the morning, when the dragon was out hunting. If they were lucky, perhaps the dragon would leave a few shed scales behind.

Ashala was not prepared, mentally, to fight a dragon, but she had jumped at the chance to go when Ariadne said she would be accompanying her sister on this ridiculous task—she kept the ridiculous bit to herself, but she really did think going out of their way to trek through dragon territory was a phenomenally bad idea, even with their plan in place.

So it was her, Ariadne, Lana, and Lana's friend Iron Bull who set out to the Hinterlands a few weeks after the plans had been made. Iron Bull was another of Lana's friends that Ashala already liked—He was a little crass, yes, but funny at times, and willing to keep conversations going even after Ashala and Ariadne ran out of practiced niceties to say. He and Lana led the group, chatting to each other once the two mages had become obviously exhausted by conversation.

Ashala's time with the Inquisition was now numbering at roughly two months. In that time she had gone on a few missions with Lana, and had spent some time with all of her friends by this point. A few, she got along better than others, but she didn't dislike any of them, not really.

She had yet to talk to Solas. At all. She wasn't sure what to say, and was worried too much time had passed. It had started out as her just wanting to think of something good to say to him, since it would be the words that define her as his soul mate, but all that time stressing had led her to putting it off for weeks, and now here she was, nearly two months after meeting him, and still had yet to say a single word. He'd probably be so upset with her, wouldn't he?

Ashala had plenty of opportunities, too. Lana had brought the both of them on missions together, yet Ashala still couldn't bring herself to say anything. Lana had stopped putting them on teams with one another altogether, likely under the impression that they didn't get along.

Her self loathing followed her out to the Hinterlands, and stayed with her even as they made camp. Their two tents housed Iron Bull in one, and the three girls shared the other, with Ariadne lying in the middle, and Lana and Ashala on the edges. It was cramped, but oddly cozy, and it was nice to chat with the two sisters before falling asleep. It helped take her mind off things at least for a little while.

In the morning they were up before the sun, and making their way to the dragon nest. Ashala was embarrassingly jittery, jumping at every little rustle of bushes, or snapped twig.

By the time the nest was in sight, the sun was up just enough to cast the valley in a pink glow.

“This would be pretty, if I wasn't expecting a dragon to swoop down and eat us.” Lana comments. Iron Bull snorts in response.

“We...aren't the first ones here?” Ariadne sounds astounded, and Ashala follows her line of sight up towards the nest itself. There is one lone figure up there, crouched down and examining something in the dirt. There's a bow strapped to their back, and for a moment, Ashala tenses, wondering if they were in for a fight if the stranger was feeling particularly territorial about whatever spoils the dragon left behind.

When they stand upright, and turn around to regard the group below, Ashala gasps, and the elf up on the nest does to.

“Adahlen, what could you possibly be doing up there?” Ashala asks incredulously.

“Looking for you.” He says, then glances behind him. “Well. Not looking for you here, but I was scouting the area when I noticed the dragon leave, so I went to check it out.”

“By yourself? What if the dragon came back?”

“I didn't think that far.”

“Wait, you said you were looking for me?”

Adahlen nods. “Well, yeah. Lots of us are. After the conclave we went to the ruins to find, well, you know. Remains. But we didn't see any sign of you, not your body, or your staff. The Keeper thought you might have survived, so she's been sending out search parties all over.”

Ashala's eyes begin to sting. She had been so caught up in the Inquisition, she had forgotten all about her original goal of getting home. She hadn't even remembered to send a letter, or any kind of sign she was okay. But they'd been out here looking for her, even though its been months, because they still thought there was a chance for her to be okay...

Her stomach turns. She feels guilty. And happy. So happy, that they all cared enough to search for her even after all this time.

“I take it you two know each other?” Lana says, regarding Adahlen with uncertainty.

“Oh, yes. He's another member of Clan Lavellan, we grew up together.” Ashala answers quickly. From up at the nest, Adahlen waves. “Adahlen, this is Inquisitor Lana Trevelyan, um...Well, have you heard about--”

“Yes.” Adahlen says before she can finish. “We looked in all the major cities for you, and the Inquisitor is all anyone's talking about. So you're working for her?”

“Its kind of a long story, but yes.”

A horrendous shriek bellows from above them, bringing the conversation to a screeching halt. The sound of large, flapping wings fills the air around them long before the beast soars into view.

“Dragon!” Iron Bull calls up towards Adahlen, who immediately heeds the warning and scampers down off of the nest, just barely escaping before the dragon slams down where he had been just seconds before.

He runs over to them the moment he's on level ground, bow drawn in one quick movement and aimed up at the dragon, which has its eyes trained on the five of them. Iron Bull has his ax out as well, stance screaming for a fight. Ashala is horrified and a little impressed that the qunari is actually smiling.

“Nope, no, put it all down, we are leaving,” Lana is already backing up, with Ariadne mirroring her at a much faster pace. “I planned for sneaking in there, I didn't bring enough potions, I wasn't expecting—just--just go, lets go!”

Ashala sprints after the two girls who are already fleeing the scene. Just before she's out of earshot, she hears Adahlen laugh and say to Iron Bull: “Your friends aren't much fun, are they?” but the two of them are soon following close behind her.

---------

Lana is amazed they make it out of there in one piece, but they somehow manage. The only bruises they bring back to Skyhold are on their pride.

They cross through the gates of the fortress with nothing to show for their trip—Aside from an extra person. After a little bit of discussion, they decided it would be best if Adahlen returned with them to Skyhold, where they could send word back to Clan Lavellan about what happened. Lana very pointedly does not look in Cassandra's direction, not wanting to see any sort of smug satisfaction, or worse, genuine pity. Apparently not even weeks worth of planning was enough to get dragon scales without actually fighting one.

They're greeted in the courtyard by a few soldiers, and from there, the five of them go their separate ways. Ariadne and Ashala walk side by side up the stairs, seemingly no worse for ware, since they're chattering with a surprising amount of gusto.

Iron Bull puts a hand on Adahlen's shoulder. “We've got a lot to talk about.” He says, and Adahlen laughs as he agrees. They head towards the tavern together, leaving Lana alone with her thoughts, which is the last thing she really wants to be alone with right now.

She has little time to stew before she sees Cullen walking towards her, hand on the back of his neck, a nervous tick Lana had noticed weeks ago. He rarely initiates conversations with her, so her desire for a distraction, as well as her curiosity, keeps her rooted in her place as he approaches.

“Can we talk?” He asks, and Lana nods. He leads the two of them up to the ramparts, just to the side of his office, where they look out over the mountains surrounding Skyhold. He doesn't start to speak right away, which doesn't surprise her, but she is surprised at herself for not starting up a conversation in his place like she normally would.

“I'm sorry.” He eventually sighs.

Lana looks at him. “For what?”

“I've been...a little foolish. Which Leliana and Josephine have told me many times. I've been unfair to you, avoiding you, refusing to talk about—about this.”

“No, Cullen, its fine. I know I keep pushing you, and that's not fair of me. I shouldn't force you to talk about if if you're not comfortable.”

“I do want to talk about it. I just don't know how. I think I can, but then I see you and I'm at a loss for words. I keep thinking I'm not worthy of you, that there must have been some sort of mistake.”

A little voice in the back of her mind wants to comment on how cute it is that he's blushing so hard, but she knows her face is just as red right now. “I...was worried for a long time too. That you didn't like me, or something had gone wrong, but, Cullen, I do really like you. When we talk, I always feel so much better. Anytime we spoke about strategies, or our friends, it felt so natural. I just have this idea in my head of how soul mates--” She doesn't miss the way his face flushes to an even deeper pink color the moment that word leaves her lips, “--are supposed to act, but...I'm pushing it. I want to get to know you. I want it to be real. So can we talk more? Not about what we're meant to be, but just normal conversations first? We don't have to rush it. I'm sorry for making it seem like we should.”

Cullen smiles at her, a small but sincere one, and Lana's heart skips a beat at the sight of it. “I'm sorry too. For avoiding you. But, yes, I'd like that.”

“...Can I ask though, what made you change your mind?”

She's not sure how much redder Cullen can get. “When you left to fight the dragon. I was angry. At you, at anyone who didn't stop you. The thought of you never coming back left me so empty inside...I realized I felt the same way back at Haven, when you went back out there to give us all a fighting chance. I had just met you, but I still couldn't imagine a life without you.”

Lana stares at him for a long time, struggling to think of anything to say to that confession. It was unfair, to be told such a thing, when she didn't have anything nearly as mushy in return.

She responded by burying her face into her hands, and murmuring that that was a sneaky move on his part.

-------

Adahlen had been with the Inquisition a grand total of two days, and he already forgot where the room Lana had given him to use was. He hadn't actually set foot in it since thanking Lana for her kindness, and probably would not be able to find his way back to it if you threatened him at knife point.

“Oh shit,” He murmurs. Lana. Lana was supposed to introduce him to everyone else today. She had stopped by the the tavern yesterday afternoon to tell him the rest of her friends would be back, finally all in one place again.

The light shining in through the hole in the ceiling let him know it was late morning. Lana probably went looking for him in his room, only to find it empty.

Adahlen literally rolls out of bed, uncaring of the amount of noise he made, since he knows Iron Bull is already awake—it had only taken two days to learn his soul mate was a light sleeper. “You ass. You didn't wake me up.”

“Whoops.” Iron Bull does not sound very sincere.

It takes him a few minutes to get dressed, delayed by the amount of time it takes him to find his shoes. When he's finally clothed and finds them, he's out the door, still pulling his boots up as he stumbles out onto the ramparts—he's honestly amazed that Bull's room has three doors into it.

“Oh, Adahlen, there you are!” Ashala was apparently part of the search party, as she finds him first, and jogs over to him. “You weren't in your room, we've been looking for you all morning. Are you alright? We thought something might have happened--”

“I'm fine,” He reassures her. “I was with Iron Bull.”

“This early?”

“It was late when I got there.”

He can practically hear the gears in her head turning. When it finally clicks, Ashala gasps. “Adahlen! You didn't.”

At that, he doesn't bother to suppress a grin. “I did.”

“I mean, its fine of course, I just wasn't—I didn't expect you two to get along so well so quickly!”

“Oh,” Adahlen rolls up his sleeve, showing off his blank arm. “Soul mates. Found out right after we met. We decided 'fun bits now, important discussion later'...I don't have any idea where that room Lana gave me is anymore, by the way.”

“You're not exaggerating that conversation at all, are you? Well...Congratulations, really. I'm very happy for you. Lana's still looking for you though, to introduce you to the others. Are you still up for it?”

“Yeah, lead the way.” He lets Ashala take the lead. “So...how exactly did you get wrapped up in all of this, Ashala?”

“Creators, its a long, long story.”

“Then lets walk slower.” He smiles when Ashala slows her pace, falling in to step beside him. “I'm glad you're safe. We were all really worried about you.”

“I'm glad you're here, honestly. I've made friends, but its nice to see a familiar face. Anyway, I met Ariadne first...”

#heartowrito fanfic #heartowrito word count: 7825

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acrobat-elle · 8 years ago

Text

Harbor In the Tempest (2/5)

After an attack by the Lost Boys, Emma and Killian find themselves in an impossible situation. Canon divergence from 3x07.

@caprelloidea is an absolute goddess of a fic cheerleader.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4373

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

AO3 | ff.net

Emma’s face grows even paler, a feat he’d not thought possible, her lips pulled into a tight line.

He’s sure he looks much the same, his sudden realization having turned his veins to ice, his stomach twisting uncomfortably and his heart made of lead. He’s felt this before - on two separate occasions ( three , a traitorous voice in his head supplies, reminding him once again of how Liam was snatched back from the clutches of death only to succumb as soon as they thought they were free) - and the depth of it shakes him. She is not Milah. She is not Liam. And yet -

“What kind of poisons?” She interrupts his thoughts, biting off the words through clenched teeth.

He needs the acid in her tone to bring him back, to distract him even, but when he looks at her that familiar feeling once again lodges itself in his chest, tenterhooks that refuse to let go. “There’s at least a dozen I know of, and probably several dozen more that I don’t.”

“You said there was nothing on that arrow.” It’s not quite an accusation, but close enough.

“I said there was no Dreamshade on that arrow.” He picks it up once more, examining it. “Whatever was on it either stayed inside you or isn’t visible to human eyes.”

“Any ideas?” her voice wobbles on the words.

“Well, we can cross Dreamshade off the list.” He regrets the words the instant they leave his mouth, and her eyes grow hard when she hears them.

“This isn’t fucking funny.”

“I know, love. I’m sorry.” He holds her gaze for a moment and wills her to see it - she doesn’t need his wit right now and he can hardly blame her for snapping, not when she’d gone from figuring a way out this mess to being handed a death sentence less than a minute later. She seems to sense it in him and her features relax slightly.

He takes it as a win and and makes his way over to her, kneeling next to her. “Perhaps I can narrow it down. How do you feel right now?”

She sighs. “Just peachy.”

“Swan,” he warns.

“Sorry,” she mutters. “I feel… tired. Like nothing in my body wants to work.”

“And your head?”

“It doesn’t hurt, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, not exactly. Are you seeing or hearing anything odd? Hallucinations?”

She shakes her head. “No, but my thoughts are… not slower, but…” she trails off, as though searching for the right words. He nods in encouragement, waiting. “It’s like I have to work harder to think. Like I’m drunk but trying to act sober. Kind of.” She huffs. “God, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“No, I understand,” he assures her. “Are you in any pain? Aside from the obvious, of course.”

She glances down to her torso. “No, I - no.”

“All right.” He reaches out, pressing his palm gently to her forehead. She seems surprised at his touch but doesn’t protest as he checks for a fever and finds none - her skin is cool beneath his fingers, in fact, a stark contrast to the humid air around them.

“So? Got a diagnosis, doc?”

He shakes his head before looking up at her. “I’m afraid not, Swan. Most of the poisons I’m familiar with would have killed you already, and the rest would have you screaming in agony.”

Her voice goes flat. “Well, lucky me.”

“If you’d seen how some of my crew members met their demise, you wouldn’t be so flippant.” He turns and sits with his back to the wall, a foot away from Emma, completely at a loss.

They’re quiet for awhile, coiled tight and ready to snap but neither of them ready to speak. Emma’s hands twist in her lap and he digs under his nails with the tip of his hook, the silence stretching out between them. He can only imagine what she’s thinking (though he’s sure he has a fair idea), but his own mind races and keeps him from contemplating Emma’s own thoughts any further.

He wants her, that much he knows. She’s stunningly beautiful and he’d be blind not to see it, but it’s far more than that - there’s a steady strength to her he admires, a level of devotion to her family that pulls at him in the strangest way, opens up old wounds he’d rather not revisit. What would his life have been like, he wonders, if his father had possessed that same trait?

Her kiss made him reconsider himself, his entire reason for being - with one touch of her lips an entire realm of possibilities opened up to him but they were just that - possibilities. When had that shifted from mere potential to something tangible?

Losing it - her - would crush him. He’s certain of that.

“We’re not gonna make it, are we?” she says, quiet and resigned.

Her words cut through him, sharp and jagged as his own thoughts. He can’t lie to her. “I don’t know.”

“What the hell kind of poison is this, anyway? Shouldn’t it hurt? Hasn’t every damn poison you’ve run across here been painful?” she asks.

“Aye,” he concedes. “But I wouldn’t put anything past Pan. He may have created it especially for us. He thought we’d both be stricken with it,” he reminds her.

“Then what’s so bad about this? Maybe it’s not fatal. Maybe I’m just sick and - “ she stops, almost like she can’t convince herself any further.

His fist clenches before he looks at her. “You feel helpless right now, don’t you? That’s what it’s doing to you. It’s already taken your magic. Now it’s taking your physical strength. Be honest, Emma - could you stand right now if you wanted?”

Her glare is strong, but she doesn’t fight him on it. “No. Happy?”

“Bloody fuck, no. ” He shakes his head. “This poison wasn’t chosen or designed with you in mind, Swan. It was for me.”

“What?”

“Am I wrong?” he asks, more harshly than he’d intended. “That this poison makes you feel helpless? Not in control of yourself?”

She doesn’t respond, and her face tells him all he needs to know.

“He picked the perfect thing,” he mutters. “And now you’re caught up in it. I’m sorry, Swan. This should be for me and me alone.”

“Well, we’re both here, so…”

Despite himself, he feels the corners of his mouth turn up. “All hope isn’t lost just yet. Your parents could find us, or Regina, or even the bloody Crocodile.”

“Or Pan could show up and decide he doesn’t want me to die slowly after all.”

His skin crawls around the word die. “No offense, love, but your mother’s optimism seems to have skipped a generation.”

“Shut up.” She sighs and looks back to her lap. “Wait a minute. Why would he want us to die slowly, anyway? Why not just take us out?”

“Distraction,” he says simply. “It’s no accident we were driven specifically to this place, I’d wager. Even if neither of us were hit we’d still be trapped.”

“And with us stuck down here, that means the rest of the crew will be looking for us instead of Henry,” she finishes.

“Precisely. And if they do find us we’ll have yet another mission to retrieve the water that saved your father.”

“And even if we weren’t stuck down here, if we’d been hit with the arrows anyway…”

“Aye. As long as at least one of us were injured his goal would be accomplished, whether we escaped the Lost Boys or not.” He’s trying to think of a way out, he truly is. Any scenario that doesn’t end in her wasting away in this hellish place, one that doesn’t end with him starving to death after Emma dies - and seven hells, that’s a fate he desperately wishes never entered his mind, one that physically pains him to contemplate. Pan wouldn’t hesitate to leave their bodies in some easy-to-find location, he’s certain. The demon would relish the opportunity to see the looks on her parents’ faces.

Perhaps the Lost Boys never intended to poison him after all. He’d take Dreamshade a thousand times over rather than waste away on this cliff with only Emma’s body to keep him company. He’d -

He needs to stop thinking.

“Why didn’t you keep any of it?” Emma’s voice cuts through his increasingly-grim thoughts.

“Keep what?”

“The water. Why didn’t you keep any of it? We had enough canteens.” Her words are measured but he can feel the quiet anger beneath them. “Considering how much Pan loves Dreamshade, it would have made sense to keep some around.” Her meaning is crystal-clear: I wouldn’t be going through this right now if you hadn’t emptied the canteen immediately after David drank from it.

“That was a far too dangerous idea for me to even consider,” is all he says, his thoughts taking another foul turn, more memories he’d rather not relive.

“Too dangerous?” She scoffs. “What the hell, Hook? I don’t like the idea of being forced to stay in Neverland any more than you do, but it’s still a shitload better than dying.” Her legs may have failed her but her arms work just fine, fists clenching and loosening as she gestures out to the jungle.

“That’s not why,” he gets out through gritted teeth, a subtle warning against her pressing the matter further.

She either doesn’t catch it or ignores it entirely, her eyes flaring. “Are you sure about that? You can’t try to make me fall in love with you if I’m stuck here while you get to go home.”

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. She’s angry, understandably so - she’s just been handed what is essentially a death sentence after all - and he knows she’s using that anger to mask the terror she’s feeling. He’s done that plenty of times himself. But her words cut deep. He’d thought that perhaps they’d made some headway in their strange relationship, such as it was, but the fact that she’s misjudged him so badly tells him otherwise.

Perhaps that’s what pushes him to say what he says next.

“Lest you forget, unless you count my ship I don’t have a home. And tell me, Swan. Have you stopped to think about why your father can never leave this island after drinking that water?”

Some of the animosity melts from her expression, slowly replaced by confusion. “I thought he just physically wouldn’t be able to leave.”

He shakes his head. “No. There’s no barrier to stop him from leaving if we find a way out. It’s what happens after he leaves that’s important.”

Her face falls when the implications dawn on her. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh. I wouldn’t dare keep a canteen of that water on me, not for anything. All it would take is one mix-up. Just one. Someone drinking from the wrong vessel, not realizing what they’d done, only to arrive home and perish before they realized the mistake they’d made.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t do it.”

She looks away from him, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “It wasn’t Dreamshade that killed your brother, was it?” she asks, chastened.

“No.”

The tension between them deflates somewhat, Emma’s shoulders slumping as she considers his words.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, soft and contrite.

“It was hundreds of years ago, Swan,” he answers, suddenly feeling unbearably weary.

She shakes her head. “No, not about - I mean, I am sorry about your brother, but that’s not what I meant. What I said to you, I just - I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” he replies, just as soft. “It’s been quite a morning.”

She sighs. “Have you ever been in a situation where you couldn’t see a way out? Where you just knew you were going to die?”

His jaw tightens, flashbacks to a duel proposed by a Crocodile flitting through his mind. “Yes.”

“So you know, then. What I’m… you know.”

“Aye.” He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, to reach out and place his hand over hers. It startles him, the strength of his desire to reach out and touch her, to provide any measure of comfort he can, meager as it is.

She doesn’t move at his touch and he waits, fully expecting her to draw her hand away. Instead she turns her wrist beneath his until their palms touch. He’s not sure who moves first when their fingers lace together but her grip is surprisingly strong, the metal of his rings digging into his fingers while she avoids his gaze but squeezes tight.

He squeezes back, hoping it’s enough.

The day grows hotter. Despite the shelter offered to them by the shade, the air is uncomfortably warm and stagnant, no breeze to help cool the sweat sticking to his skin. He fetches two of the canteens from the satchel, grateful that they have a decent water supply with them; they’d been stocking up for the entire camp when they were attacked. They won’t have to worry about dying of thirst anytime soon, at least.

Small mercies, he thinks as he sits next to Emma once more and passes her a canteen. “Drink up, love. It should help keep you cool.”

“I’m actually not…” she trails off, as if it hadn’t even occurred to her. “I’m not hot at all.” She frowns. “I should be sweating my ass off.”

He hadn’t even noticed, lost as he’d been in his own thoughts, but she’s right. Every day prior she’d been covered with a faint sheen of perspiration once the sun grew high enough in the sky. “Another symptom?”

“I guess. It’s kind of nice to have a break from the heat.” She shrugs with feigned nonchalance, but he can see the trepidation there.

He doesn’t answer but reaches out to her instead, his palm flat against her forehead. She closes her eyes at his touch, her head dropping back until it’s resting against the wall behind her. “Mmm. You’re warm.”

“And you’re cool. Almost cold, even.” He tries to keep the alarm out of his voice and knows he doesn’t entirely succeed. It’s unnatural, how chilled her skin feels under his fingers, such a contrast to the hot air around them. He tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear before pulling back. “How do you feel right now? Any changes?”

She shakes her head and takes a pull from the canteen. “No, except for the not-sweating thing.”

“You should probably eat something.” They don’t have much, just a few pieces of fruit he’d picked on the way to the stream that morning, but it’s better than nothing.

“No, we should save whatever we have. Besides, I’m not hungry.” Her eyes widen a bit, like she hadn’t even noticed a lack of hunger until she said it aloud.

He may not know what the poison is, but its effects are becoming increasingly clear - her body is slowly shutting down, one thing at a time. Little things, none of them in and of themselves too worrying, but the implications frighten him more than he cares to admit.

He wonders what will give out first, her lungs or her heart.

He pushes the thought away. “You haven’t had a meal since last night and you’ve been run through by a bloody arrow. You need to eat,” he says firmly.

She rolls her eyes. “What, to keep up the strength that I don’t have anymore? Sure, that seems like a great use of our rations.”

“Swan.”

“Hook.”

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

Their heads snap in the direction of the familiar voice, the one dripping in amusement and condescension. The bloody demon appeared out of nowhere, as is his wont, and Killian is on his feet with his sword drawn in a flash.

Pan tilts his head, a smirk touching his features as he looks down at Emma. “Don’t get up on my account.”

Killian lunges with his weapon before Pan even finishes speaking, a white-hot rage consuming him before he’s thrown back against the wall in a blast of magic, his sword neatly yanked from his hand and tossed over the cliff.

“Do that again and I’ll throw more than your sword over,” Pan warns while Killian shakes his head, trying to clear it after having it bashed against the granite.

“So what were you arguing about? A lover’s spat? No, no, that can’t be it. You aren’t lovers yet.” He glances down to Emma. “And from the looks of things you never will be.” His gaze drifts back to Killian, his eyebrow raised. “You should have taken my deal, you know.”

“What the fuck have you done with Henry?” Emma growls.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Henry. He’s assimilating nicely with my little group. I’m more concerned with you, Emma. How are you feeling?”

“Bite me, you little shit.”

He ignores her and turns back to Killian. “You seem to be faring better.”

It’s his turn to smirk. “Your lackeys’ aim needs work. They wasted dozens of arrows on me.”

The knowing tilt of Pan’s head is infuriating, but his next words give Killian pause. “Are you sure about that?”

He rubs at his eyes, tired of these ridiculous games. “What do you want, demon?”

“Just checking on your well-being. I’m sure Emma’s parents will be desperate to know, and now I can tell them with certainty. They’re very worried about her, you know - both her parents and Baelfire.” He considers Killian once more. “Funny, I can’t imagine them feeling the same for you.”

Killian glares, his patience worn thin. “Well, now that you’ve sated your curiosity, I’m sure you need to be off.”

Pan’s smile widens, somehow growing more sinister at the same time. “Very true.” He looks back to Emma. “I’ve got big plans for your son. You’d be proud of him, I’m sure.”

He disappears before she can respond.

They stay silent in the wake of Pan’s visit, Killian pulling himself back into a sitting position and mentally vowing to tear the boy limb from limb if he ever gets hand and hook on him. It’s a bloody, comforting thought, one that keeps him from having to look at Emma while they both process what just happened. What could he even say to her at this point?

Are you sure about that?

Those five simple words replay over and over in his mind. Pan could have simply been lying to him, using the fact that the arrows had missed him to toy with his mind, but - no. Nothing that happens under Pan’s watch is an accident.

He was simply ensuring that Killian would be forced to watch Emma die. Of course. HIs worst-case scenario.

“What was he talking about?”

“What’s that, love?” he asks wearily, battered both physically and emotionally.

“He said you should have taken his deal. What deal?”

He lifts his head to find her looking at him curiously. “Of all the things Pan just said, that’s what you’re concerned about?”

“If I think about anything else he said I’ll start screaming or crying or both. I swear to God, I can’t wait to get my hands on that little bastard.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he responds dryly.

“What deal?” she asks, undeterred.

He sighs. “When your father was poisoned and I went up Dead Man’s Peak to retrieve the water to save his life, Pan showed up. He wanted me to work for him again.”

“And you said no?”

“I said no,” he confirms.

Emma’s eyes narrow. “There’s more to it than that.”

Bloody hell, will she not let this go? He presses his thumb and forefinger over his eyes, pushing until he sees stars behind the lids. “Aye, and it’s a story for another time.”

“What, for when I’m dead?”

He grimaces. “Swan.”

“Fine, then. Why don’t we talk about what Pan might have planned for Henry? Or what my next symptom might be? I could go blind, or have trouble breathing, or start bleeding out from this fucking hole in my side. Would that be better?” She reaches for the canteen at her side and fumbles with it when she tries to unscrew the cap. She huffs in frustration shakes out her hand, much as one does when a limb has fallen asleep, and tries again. But her fingers are slow and clumsy, and after a few more attempts she sighs, setting the canteen in her lap.

His irritation with her melts away instantly. She’s dying, you idiot, and she’s terrified. He slowly climbs to his feet and crosses the cave until he’s kneeling next to her, carefully taking the canteen from her lap and unscrewing the lid.

“Can you hold this?” he asks gently.

She can’t bring herself to look at him when she takes it from him, pressing it between both of her palms before taking a drink. “Yeah. I’ve got it.”

“All right.” He settles down next to her once more, a little closer than last time.

“Sorry,” she finally says. “I’m just - “

“It's all right, love.” He scratches at his ear. “Pan offered me passage off the island.”

She turns her head to look at him. “What, just like that?”

“No,” he admits. “He said I could take one person with me.”

Her eyes widen in realization. “Me.”

“Yes. I refused.”

She grows quiet, passing the canteen back to him so he can screw on the lid. “Why?” she finally asks, her gaze trained downward.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t leave your son.” He shrugs. “Am I wrong?”

She regards him warily. “No. No, you’re not. What did - what did Pan want in return?”

“He wanted me to kill your father. He very specifically asked me to use my hook.”

“Jesus.”

“I don’t know what or who this ‘Jesus’ is, but I can gather your meaning.”

She actually smiles a little at that. “It’s, uh, kind of blasphemous to use his name in vain.”

“Is he a god in your world?” He hasn’t had enough time to research the topic himself; he always found the religious practices of the various lands he visited interesting, but most of the time he’s spent in Storybrooke he’s either been tied up in one way or another, and when he wasn’t injured or chained there remained all the curious new technologies to discover and master. He suspects he’d need multiple lifetimes to learn them all.

“A version of one type of god, yeah. There are a lot of religions to choose from.”

“Perhaps one day I’ll finally pick one.”

Her smile turns wry. “Yeah, I didn’t peg you for a go-to-church-every-Sunday type.”

“My mother was,” he says quietly, surprising himself. “She was always telling me to say my prayers before she passed.”

“Oh.” She looks surprised, like she hadn’t even considered he’d been a child once, that he’d had parents. “How old were you when she…?”

“Five or six years, I believe. Something settled in her lungs and never left. It took her quickly.”

“I’m sorry.”

He waves her off. “It was a long time ago.”

“So you stopped praying? After she was gone, I mean.”

He shakes his head. “Not at first. I dutifully said my prayers every night for a few years after, just as she wanted.”

“What changed?”

He flashes back to a ship at sea, a storm, and a cruel captain. “I didn’t think anyone was listening.”

“I know what you mean,” she mutters, wisely not pressing the matter. “I just… I don’t understand you. Why weren’t you going to tell me about Pan’s deal?”

“What would be the point?” he asks. “It wouldn’t change anything. What would you have me do, brag about it? No. I don’t need you questioning my motives, Swan.”

“But why would I - “

“I already told you,” he says, the corners of his mouth pulling up. “No trickery. Remember?”

“Oh.” She looks a little stunned, blinking at him for a moment before averting her gaze. It’d be a fetching display in any other context but it instead it tugs at his heart, a wrenching, awful thing pulling in his chest.

He doesn’t know if he can do this again, if he can watch her gradually fade while he’s helpless to do a damned thing about it. He feels himself falling apart as slowly and surely as she, their shared dread heavy in the air between them.

It seems Pan indeed picked the perfect thing. He wants to swear, to scream, to punch the wall behind him until his fingers bleed. Instead he swallows heavily, forcing a lightness into his voice that sounds false even to his own ears.

“So, Swan. Will you continue to fight me on the matter, or will you finally eat something?"

Her quick exhale in response isn’t quite a laugh, but when she nods it loosens the tightness in his chest, if only a little.

Chapter 3

#cs ff #captain swan ff #captain swan #my fic #neverland renaissance

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