#blackbird tea room

[thatawkwardmoth]

In honor of it being my birthday (I'm 20 now bitches, made it), I give you people celebrating Scott's birthday. Because he is a fellow Virgo, I know it in my soul.

Jean: bakes him a cake and makes him dinner. The one meal he likes and eats all the time. Her soup. It's a simple recipe and she stopped making it as much so Scott could expand his palate a little more. It doesn't but she makes it for him on his birthday. She gets him a gag gift and an actual gift. The gag gift is usually something like a card that says a really bad dad joke just so his face drops as he reads it. She's thoughtful with her gift and doesn't pry into his mind for it. She knows her husband.

Emma: Buys him a small cupcake and has him blow it out early in the morning. It's a private moment between them. Scott doesn't like that much attention on him, especially on his birthday so she keeps it between the two of them. She spends a ridiculous amount of money on model plane sets, knowing he enjoys making them in the rare instances of free time he gets and adds a little more spending money on the budget for the Blackbird so her nerdy boyfriend can have his fun upgrading it.

Rachel: as a child in her home timeline, she'd wake him up early, screeching about it being his birthday and getting him a present with mommy. She'd count herself lucky a few times that Scott's optic beams don't harm people with his genetics with how roughly she shook him. Nowadays, she leaves a card and a gift on his desk. The first few years, it was basic stuff with no thought behind it, thinking Scott wouldn't want personal gifts from her, just ties and supplies. Then it turned to science fiction memorabilia that the two shared a love for. She doesn't outright tell him happy birthday, just leaves the stuff on his desk.

Nathan: as a baby and a child, same as Rachel. Jean would dump him on the bed to distract Scott and head off. The two just spent the day together. His gifts were usually drawings and small crafts made with some students' help. More presently, it's usually alcohol or favors traded. Showing up for family dinner with Hope so Scott can have his whole family there.

Madelyne: Wakes up early to put on the right music, spends time just dancing with him. He enjoys the quiet moments before the rush of birthday well wishes. She makes a lopsided treat for him and new books he's been wanting to read but won't buy himself. She has to, he deserves this day to mean something.

Alex: Usually annoys him first, making fun of his age. Buys him a card and a round of drinks. Scott likes to feel useful but Alex takes the lead on their hangout days. They sightsee, go to aircraft shows and museums. He gets Scott a few more puzzles, teases him, enjoys seeing his uptight brother smiling and relaxing for once. He's happy to celebrate with his brother after years of not being able to. He's glad to have another year with his older brother.

Corsair: completely forgot, came back three months later with a lame cheap space book that isn't correct at all and is from an Earth thrift store.

Charles: Ignored it. Just didn't say anything.

Ororo: Forcibly made him give up leadership for the day. Of everything. She's in charge and she demands he spends the day relaxing. She gets him a tea, something he prefers over coffee, and locks him out of the danger room.

Logan: Gets him drunk at their usual bar, let's him rant drunkenly about whatever. Is careful to not start fights with him that day. Challenges him to a race on their motorcycles just to have Scott take a ride with him.

Warren: Expensive gifts but from the heart. His assistant didn't buy the gift for him. Warren spent two months finding out all the details and information he needed to gift Scott with all the proof that he'd donated a large sum of money to mutant charities and an even larger amount to an orphanage for mutant children. He gets Scott other gifts but this one means a lot to Scott in a way another book or trinket doesn't.

The team/mansion/island: Doesn't throw a party for him. He's antisocial and hates them. But all day he gets quiet well wishes and cards. He gets small favors and free drinks. They're all careful to not make a big deal out of it but to show him that they care.

[the-lost-girl-in-the-tardis]

A chance meeting.

(Aka I'm bored and messing about with ideas.)

The ninth Doctor.

Weeping Angels:

The bookshop is quiet this late in the day. Just shy of an hour before closing. Some patrons are muttering amongst themselves. Sometime to you to make their final purchases. Others begin to wrap up whatever they were doing on computers and laptops.

You hum to yourself as you check in books. Stacking them in the rolling cart to later be shelved. The dimly lit room is bathed in the red light of the setting sun. There is a comfortable warmth in the air. The last remainder of a warm summer day.

After a while you stand. Popping your back after having sat down in one spot for so long. You began directing the customers out. Wishing the regulars a good evening as they leave.

When the door bell chimes one last time you sigh. Flipping the open sign to close as you locked the door.

Silence. Save for the distant rumbling of cars and the howling dog.

You still had to clean up. Gathering bits of trash from people who couldn't see the clearly labeled trash can. You stacked coffee filters back up. Open a new container of tea. Made a note to buy more syrups and more creamer.

You began to hum to yourself again. Half mumbling the words to the Beatles Blackbirds as you swept.

"Take these broken wings and-" Youpaused. Your broom had hit something solid behind the curtain. The yellow straw curled around stone grey feet. You laid the broom against the wall.

Your fingers met the sun bleached blue curtains you hadn't remembered closing. Having opened up all the curtains and windows to let in a breeze. The bookshops ac had broken a week ago and David still hadn't found someone to fix it.

"What are you?" The words left you in a mumble. The curtain rings scrapped against the metal curtain rod when you drew the fabric back. What sat before you was an angel esque statue. It's hands were over its eyes.

Something about it felt off. An age old instinct inside you yelled. Raged against your new age brain. You reached your hand out despite this. Grazing your fingers against the back of the hand of the eerily warm statue. You shivered. Swallowed thickly.

With your hands now on your hips you huffed. Tutting your tongue as your grumbled. "David and his weird decor choices." No doubt he had hid the damn thing behind the curtain to spook you. It wouldn't be the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

You reached for the broom. Shivering as a soft breeze blew through the open window behind the statue.

It would just be your luck that you had to sneeze in that moment. Having forgotten to take you allergy pills that morning.

As you were wiping your nose with your handkerchief you just happened to glance up. Only to let out a curse and stumble back into an old bean bag. The statue had moved. Honest to god moved.

You shot to your feet. Eyes not moving from the statue as you walked backwards.

"Acho!" You and your luck. Maybe that's why you never won the lottery. The statue had moved again. A table sat between the two of you. The statue was grinning. Arm outstretched. Reaching towards you. You were close to panic. Hands shaking and palms sweating. You were cold despite the summer warmth.

You curse again when the lights began to flicker. A few bulbs in the children's section actually busting. Loud pops of glass had you flinching.

"I don't know what you are." You spoke. Reaching for a book left on the table. "But i'm not going to be that person who gets got in the first few minutes of a supernatural episode."

The book arced in the air. Smacking against the against the angel uselessly. The pages fluttered. Flew like confetti as the book exploded. More lights pooped. Slowly making its way towards the two of you.

You got the feeling that this thing liked your fear.

You began backing up again. Hands flailing behind you to guide your way. More lights burst. You hand meets the cold brass doorknob. You pushed the button to unlock it.

Nothing.

You tried again.

Nothing.

You jumped when you heard the whirring on the other side. Then the muttering of a man. Stupidly you looked away. Only to scream when the angel was right in front of you.

The door opened with a too cheerful "Ding!" And you fell into the arms of a man. The smell of leather heavy in your lungs.

"Hello!" The man spoke. His voice was accented.

"Hi." You spoke out quickly. Voice high with panic. Eyes still on the angel inside the book shop even as the man helped you to your feet. "You uh. You wouldn't happen to know what that thing is would you?" The man slammed the door closed and you got a proper look at him.

Leather jacket. Red shirt. Dark jeans. And a weird glowing pen in his hands. The sound of the whirring earlier obviously as he waved it around the door.

"That was a weeping angel. Quit lucky you." He pointed his pen at you before pocketing it. "I'm the Doctor by the way." He grinned.

"Y/n." You drew your name out as you spoke. A little more than confused. Both of you jumped when the door began to rattle.

"This is the part where we run. Come on!" The man, The Doctor. You'd ask Doctor who later. As it was it grabbed you hand and pulled. Leading you down the street as the world began to plunge into the night.

The Tenth Doctor:

Alien Invasion :

You had been painting when it happened. Sat out in an open meadow. Canvas only half filled. You wondered sometimes if it was still there. A burst of color in your otherwise greyed world.

The aliens had come without warning. Nothing save for the breaking of the atmosphere as their ships descended down to Earth.

You hadn't bothered to gather your things. Only turning and running before the behemoth of a creature could spot you.

Your truck had died over halfway through on the drive back. You later learned it was caused by an emp blast from the aliens. And so you ran.

It was late by the time you had gotten home. Both in the day and...

Still you could not think of it. Lest you make it more real. More tangible.

You chose to believe that they were ok despite the rumours surrounding the labour camps. You had been one of the few. The only who were outside those camps. The alien cities. Everyday was a fight for survival. Both against them and your fellow human.

As of right now though the squabbles have settled. At least amongst each other. Instead all of that fight was focused on one man who stood in the center of the room. Dimly illuminated by old oil lamps.

He called himself the Doctor and asked how he could get into the heart of The Capitol. The Aliens main base. A place that promised nothing but death.

"I have a friend there. Donna Noble. I need to get her out." There was a series of scoffs. Laughter. And uproar.

"Ya. You and everyone else here mate." A dark haired man spoke. You never bothered to learn his name. Or any others. To many people to lose to get attached. You had lost enough already.

You watched from your little corner in the room. Eyes fixated on the man as he tried to reason with someone. Any one in the room. There was something about him. They way he carried himself. When he circled his trenchcoat curled around his long legs. Brown eyes were darkened in the dim lighting. His lips were bit raw with worry. His shoulders tense.

"Please. Your the last group of people." Someone cut him off. The Doctor blew air out from his cheeks. Brows furrowed. He scowled. A type of anger you had never seen before flashed across his face. His mouth opened. Lips curled around teeth.

Until you stepped forward.

"I'll help." You told him. It wasn't some loud affair when you spoke. Quite the opposite. Your voice was quiet. Hoarse from lack of use. And when you moved closer to him Dian pulled at your sleeve. You shook her off. "I'll help." You spoke again. Wanting to clear away that look of disbelief from his face.

If it had been your family there. You would want help to.

.............

You were glad that you had helped him. Watching him interact with his friend. Donna had thanked you as well when it all settled down. At least now humankind will be able to re-build. Because of the Doctors efforts the Aliens had been driven away. Catapulted back into the skies where they had come from.

You had never met a man before that could instill so much fear with his name alone.

That left you here. Sitting well away from everyone as you sketched for the first time in a long time. Some skill had been left behind but the rest was still there.

You drew them. Happy. Smiling.

It hurt your very soul. Broke your heart. Even after all of this you still couldn't find them. And you had no one else to lean upon.

The pages darkened and his voice sounded in your ears. As did the sweet perfume you had first smelled as Donna sat beside you.

"What about you y/n? What are you going to do know that the earth is saved." You said nothing at the Doctors words. Merely shrugging your shoulders and closing the sketchbook before they could see what. Who you drew.

"Same thing I have been." You spoke quietly. Not looking at either of them as you looked over what had once been the Aliens Capitol. "Traveling. Moving." Alone.

You could see Donna look up at the Doctor from the corner of your eye. Such a kind and worried look on her face.

Then the Doctors hand on your shoulder. You look to see his face near yours as he bent down.

"Then how about traveling the universe? The stars? Lots more to draw than what's out here."

The Eleventh Doctor:

Crash Landing:

You are walking along the old graveled road to your home. Rocks crumbling underfoot as you go up the familiar trail. It's one you've taken for years now.

The air was cool and crisp. Sweet in your lungs as you breathed it in. In the distance you could hear the croaking of frogs. The chirping crickets. Here and there there was an owl. The sounds were comforting. Familiar.

Something was different about this walk though. Just. Have you ever walked into a room and it just felt different? Only to later learn that your friends or siblings had moved all the furniture a few inches to the left? That's what it felt like right now. That everything that you have seen for the last 15 years was moved a little to the left.

You took a step. Then paused. Ears straining to hear what you are no longer hearing.

The woods around you have fallen silent. No frogs, crickets. Nothing but the wind winding through the trees and the soft lapping of water on the shore from a nearby lake.

You turned on foot. Hand held light briefly lighting up the road, then the trees as you moved. You glanced up and into the sky. The moon was full and round. Almost bright enough that you didn't need the flashlight.

The air blew softly. Picking up with it the scent of wild flowers. It curled around you. Blowing around strands of hair and fluttering your open jacket.

You swallow thickly. Nervous. That was a new feeling on this road. This walk. Nervous. As if something was about to happen.

You stood on the spot for a few minutes. Eyes glancing about as you tried to find something tangible for this feeling. You drew in a breath. Held it. Then let it out.

!VAWHOMP!

You screamed when it came crashing through. It flung up wet earth and rock. Broke trees and it screamed. Yelled. A large blue box crashing and spinning into the Earth.

It landed some feet away and all you could do was close to hyperventilate. You body shook and your heart threatened to break your ribs with its rapid pounding.

The air was thick with the smell of freshly turned earth and wood. Normally it was comforting but.

The box made a noise.

"I... What?" You bag fell to the ground as you began to move. You almost fell into the trench it had made twice before you reached it.

The box made a wheeze.

You hand was on its side before you could think. Fingers running along the rough wood.

Curiosity got the better of you.

With some difficulty you clambered up on it. Skinning your knee in the process. After about a minute and some cursing and grumbling your were on it.

Police Call Box.

What was that?

Was that a door handle? It felt warm when you wrapped your hand around it. Pushing in did nothing. Pulling up on the other hand.

Smoke bellowed out when you opened it. It was thick and reeked of burnt motor oil. The door squealed on its hinges as it flopped to the other side. A bright light filtered through that smoke and for a moment you hoped that whatever you just breathed in wasn't toxic or radioactive.

Instead your lungs burned and you coughed. Hacking like that one time you had stupidly tried a cigarette when you were young. You waved a hand in front of your face trying to clear away some of the smoke. When it finally stopped bellowing out in thick clouds you stuck your head over the opening.

"How on gods green earth." You mumbled and leaned forward some more. Up an on your knees with your hands on the other side of the door way to brace you.

At a sideways view was the stranges thing you had ever seen. Some type of console you assumed a was in the center. Leading up to it was a walkway. At the end of the walkway was a man in a white shirt and suspenders. His face must have matched your own.

"How do you fit all of that in here?" The man shook his head. He was leaning on the consol thing. Rope in hand. He was coughing heavily every so often.

"How did you get up there?" He questioned back. You shrugged your shoulders.

"If you throw the rope I can catch it? There's a log out here I can tie it to." You offered. Questions can come later. And did you have a lot of them now.

[whoslaurapalmer]

RSU: asoue netflix

there are, in fact, things i do like or appreciate about the show!!

-i genuinely do love seeing babybea!! actually having a scene where she interacts with lemony is really great and it's such a precious scene too. her lil beret is fucking adorable. -the henchperson's coroner van in reptile room saying CORNER -olaf smashing the lights in the hallway in hostile hospital is truly scary and i always liked that part -"it's been eight minutes, do you want some tea?" is incredibly iconic. something i could see book!jacques saying as well -I'D GIVE ANYTHING TO SIT AND TALK WITH HIM AGAIN -honestly lemony's physical placement in the scenes was overall done really really well. lemony is an undeniable part of this world and this story and we get to see him there -also his costumes were stellar -i really do like seeing the denouements, like physically seeing them move around and in and out of scenes was really, really cool, like visually seeing the hotel and the three of them pretending to be two people honestly was incredible. in my initial notes about season 3 i said tv was made to show the three chapters that happen simultaneously and i stand by it bc it was neat to finally see!!!!!!!!!! -the green hotel has grown on me, too. i must say. same with the denouements having mustaches. -you know, show!poe was hilarious, honestly. when i think of mr. poe, i do in fact think of show!poe now, without fail. -"i speak all of them hella fluently" -oh the reveal of jacques' vfd tattoo in ersatz elevator was great -i think the song references in the dialogue were really fun!! 'i can hit a blackbird flying in the dead of night', 'oh, i'll tell you what i want', 'what's that thing james brown said?' -oh, that murakami quote, too!! -they really crafted an atmosphere on the show, with the sets and the clothes and the colors, and there were a lot of little background details to zoom in on or catch, and although maybe it wasn't an, expected atmosphere? it makes the show feel like a solid, contained world -violet's outfits were super cute!! -jacquelyn kicking the payphone off the hook and dialing with her heel -although it could've been handled differently, i liked the scenes of vfd in the background in the first season. i liked seeing more of gustav!!!!! -"look, here's a picture of us." "there's no one in that photograph." "we're locked inside the piano." -lucy punch as esme really was inspired -i love the pattern on the sugar bowl!! -not to keep bringing up reptile room but just the room itself. monty's house itself. it's always SO beautiful. like there's actually a lot of heart and love in his house and i just love the big glass windows so much -just seeing the books get the opportunity to be adapted as a whole -- even if, yeah, i don't consider it an overwhelmingly successful adaptation -- was still great and a real highlight of my life! the anticipation of it, watching the trailers (watching the mysterious completely unrelated trailer...........), getting my tattoo which was based off a season one eye design, the idea of the show brought back a lot of interest and love for the series!! and i know it brought a lot of new fans to the books afterwards, or previous fans back to the books!! and that's nice.

[marvelgurl789fanfics]

Remy Lebeau (Gambit) x Child OC

(Remy Lebeau (Gambit) x Rogue)

~My Heart Part 6 to Safe~

Taken (Part 5)

Warning: angst, fighting

(Not the best at grammar or punctuation)

Summary: Gambit and the X-men go save Fiona, and Fiona’s powers become known.

Masterlist

~~~~~

Gambit was sitting on the floor of Fiona’s room in casual clothes with an added blue boa courtesy of the little girl setting up a plastic tea set, Fiona placed her purple bunny plushie in his lap that has been named Monsieur Sprinkles. Fiona wearing her favorite pink T-shirt dress with a toy princess crown. Grabbing the orange cat and white dog plushies from her bed, she sat Ginger her orange cat across the tea set from Gambit. Running to place the white dog plushie by her opened door, “He don’t get to join?” Gambit laughed as the girl sat beside him. “Sir Fluffy is Guard” Fiona said as if it was obvious, “Oh bien sûr” he said trying to hide his laugh. “What’s going on in here?” Morph snickered poking their head in the room noticing the scene as them and Logan walked by, who just shook his head in amusement. “Tea party” Fiona announced jumping to her feet excitedly, “jealous?” Gambit joked wrapping the boa around his neck and throwing it over his shoulder with a hair flip.

Gambit sat up on a cot in the med bay awaken by the memory, “Whoa Sugar careful, you fainted back there” Rogue said moving to stand by his side. “I’m alright Cher, we need to find Fiona” Gambit said getting up despite his head pounding but worry and fear fueled him. “Remy, I know you’re worried we all are, the Professor and Jean are searching through Cerebro, and Logan left trying to sniff her out.” Rogue said placing a hand to his chest. “One of old Logan’s claw thought Gambit’s heart would be less painful than this. You know Gambit’s heart belongs to you Cher, but Gambit discovered that Fiona is Gambit’s heart. It’s Gambit’s fault she was taken, I was meant to protect her.” Gambit said lifting Rogue’s gloved hand to his lips and placed a light kiss on the back of her hand. “Remy…” Rogue hummed placing her hand on his cheek now. “Logan found her! He got her scent outside some mutant holding facility, we are all gearing up to meet up with Logan. Come on” Jubilee said running into the med bay, Gambit and Rogue followed her to the blackbird.

~~~~~

Fiona sat on the floor of a small white room tucked in the corner trying to hide in the open room, the door slid open a man in a lab coat and two big guys with guns entered the room. “Welcome home F-63, you had us all very worried” the man in the lab coat said with fake worry in his voice, Fiona tucked her head into her knees pressed to her chest. “Don’t be like that, you’re not in trouble. We know those bad X-men took you away. You just gotta tell us where they are and everything can go back to normal.” The man said with mock kindness, Fiona remained quiet. “F-63 ANSWER ME!” The man getting irritated from lack of obedience from her. “Fiona” Fiona said into her knees just loud enough from the men to hear her. “Fiona? Who in the world is that?” The man asked, “Me” Fiona answered trying to curl up on herself more. “You? You think you have a name, you are nothing but a lab rat.” The man laughed, “I’ll let you in on a little secret F-63, you aren’t even a real person. We grew you in a lab with DNA we took from mutants in hope we could find a cure for those monster. No mother, no father, no siblings, you are all alone” the man said looking at her with disgust in his eyes.

“Have Papa” Fiona sniffles tears threatening to spill down her face, “papa? You got one of the X-men playing house with you? Who ever this ‘papa’ is I can guarantee they don’t care for you, they just pity you, probably relieved you’re gone.” The man laughed and at this Fiona let her tears fall. The three men left locking the door again knowing they won’t get anything out of her for now at least. “Fiona?” Fiona heard her name called by Xavier but didn’t see him anywhere as she looked around the room. “It’s ok, I’m talking to you telepathically only you can hear me. Are you alright? we’re coming to get you please just hang on a while longer” Xavier said in a voice that comforted Fiona “ok Grandpa, is papa coming?” Fiona asked with sadness in her voice, the Professor was quiet for a moment as he listened to the words of the men play in her young mind. “Fiona don’t worry I promise we all care for you deeply, your Papa’s been worried sick about you.” Xavier reassured before loosing the connection to her.

~~~~~

The flight had felt like longest flight of Gambit’s life, Rogue and Storm had to pretty much strap him down to stop his pacing. “We’ll get her back, keep focused you’ll get yourself killed if you get distracted. How would you expect us to explain to Fiona that something happened to her father?” Scott said as he flew the jet. “What I think Scott’s trying to say is don’t worry my friend every thing will be alright” Storm smiled but kinda glared at Scott for his harsh words but knew they came out of fear for the safety of the ones he called his family. The jet landed close to the coordinates Wolverine sent the team. They exited the jet they were already in the middle of combat, Wolverine was fighting armed guards his usual mercy for fighting non mutants was gone it was obvious he was out for blood. Gambit couldn’t blame him he hurled fully charged playing cards one after another at the group of guards, if it was them or his daughter his choice was easy. The world seemed to blur around him as her fought guard after guard, his normal care of not leaving permanent injuries to guards was forgotten.

~~~~~

Fiona sat in the corner of the room for what felt like hours, but loud noises of yelling and gun fire became clear outside the room. She got up from her spot on the floor and approached the door but it was still locked. A ringing beep rang through the door as it opened as the three men from before entered, the sound of fighting grow louder through the open door. “F-63 it time we leave” the man in lab coat said as one of the guards reached to grab her. Fear like never before flooded her body and her feet started running before her mind could catch up. Fiona ran faster than she ever did before getting around the men and out the door and down the hall, as she ran she noticed her body changed she now had four paws carrying her fast down the hall.

~~~~~

The X-men fought their way into building continuing to fight more guards. Taking care of what guards that tried to stop them, a shocking sight of a tiger running in the room with guards chased after it caught them off guard. “They’re kidnapping zoo animals now”Jubilee said confused but shot sparks blinding the guards. Jean heard Fiona mind clearly excited to see her papa and it took a moment to register the thoughts were coming from the tiger. “That tigers Fiona” Jean shouted to the team getting shocked looks as they took care of the remaining guards, the tiger stopped running once the guards were gone and no longer chasing her. “Mon petit that you?” Gambit asked slowing approaching the tiger not to startle it, the tiger just jumped at him knocking him over the crushing weight quickly became lighter on his chest and sounds of sodding filled his ears.

“Papa” Fiona cried holding Gambit’s jacket in a death grip. “It’s gonna be ok now, père here now” Gambit said getting to his feet once more holding his girl close to him. “Let continue this on the jet before reinforcements arrive” Logan said getting Gambit’s attention. The X-men made their way to the Blackbird, Gambit holding Fiona tight the whole time. All the x-men missed Fiona but left her to her papa for now. The whole fight home Gambit was comforting Fiona, “it’s ok Mon petit your safe now” Gambit said softly to the crying girl on his lap giving her kisses on her dark blonde hair on top on her head.

~~~~~

This part was a bit difficult for me to write. It’s easier for me to write cute fluff not sad angst.

Any suggestions or ideas welcome. Got other parts planned check out Masterlist.

I don’t know French, all French is from google translate:

Monsieur (mister)

Bien sûr (of course)

Cher (dear)

Mon petit (my little one)

Père (dad/father)

Part 7

[anonsally]

Days 7 and 8 in Chile: I am sick.

I went to bed early on Friday night after drinking some herbal tea, but I felt feverish and unwell.

Yesterday, after nearly 10 hours of sleep, I didn't feel better but I also didn't feel worse, and I thought the fever might have broken as I had sweated in the night. So after packing up and checking out, we left our luggage and took the metro to the Pre-Columbian Art Museum. We only saw a small section of it, because I was pretty fatigued, but what we saw was fantastic. I especially liked the textile room.

We ate lunch in the museum cafe, and then wandered a little. We visited the cathedral, the most exciting part of which was the unexpected cat inside!

We took the metro back. The metro stations are really labyrinthine! But we managed to get back to the hostel and a taxi took us to the conference hotel, which is corporate and soulless but feels very luxurious after that hostel! Wife went to a pharmacy, but covid self-tests are apparently not available in Chile. She bought me a decongestant. I ended up resting the rest of the afternoon and getting room service for dinner. I went to bed early.

This morning I woke up feeling that my congestion was better (though maybe the decongestant was still in my system), and my throat was definitely less raw. However, my appetite was still suppressed, and the fatigue wasn't any better. It was a lovely, warm day and I was sorry not to be well enough to explore Santiago. Wife went out and had a great wander. I ended up spending a couple hours outside in the hotel's backyard, birdwatching and occasionally half-dozing in partial shade. The only new birds I saw were shiny cowbirds, though there was also a pair of rufous-tailed plantcutters (I had previously only seen the male). I was also excited to spot a tufted tit-tyrant and a grey-hooded sierra finch. The Austral blackbirds were making a varied racket!

Eventually I came back in and took a 2 hour nap, from which I woke feeling much, much worse in the congestion department. But I was also somewhat dehydrated and under-caloried (I didn't have lunch).

I got room service for dinner again and it was delicious, but I couldn't finish it, despite having eaten so little today.

I am supposed to give my talk in the conference tomorrow, and I can wear a good N-95 mask to protect others, but I am a little worried about my energy levels.

[nightbunnysong]

9/50 Day Productivity Challenge

1. Exercise

went on a mountain hike with my dog

yoga

2. Reading

30 minutes (i'm reading Brigid Delaney's book on stoicism)

3. Academic goals

4.30 h repeating aloud for my Botany exam

4. Personal growth

today has been a very productive day! i woke up at five, meditated for 10 minutes, and read for 30. meanwhile, outside, the twilight gave way to dawn as owls and blackbirds sang the beginning of the day. i studied a lot (to the point of exhaustion, i’d say), and i’m also pleased that i took a new hike with my dog along a trail i hadn’t walked in two years because it had become impassable. now i’ve seen that they’ve cleaned it, and it’s truly scenic. in the woods, the chestnut trees creaked in the wind, making the atmosphere even more enchanting. it was also a lovely day with my family!

5. Random chores

bag the dried yarrow to make winter teas

boil the homemade fig jam

organize the room and the documents related to expenses and health properly

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

Finally compiled a list of all the in progress fics I've been keeping track of because I needed something to do in light of recent events... my OCD is very pleased

A-E:

Across the Spiderverse: Don’t be a Stranger by obsessed789 Fastidiar by JokerzTriKz Tuyo by Chherry_blossom Web of Secrets by Liliacamethyst Desiderium by samseaa The Webs We Weave by Amsy1492

Baldur’s Gate 3: Bites in the Night by PursuitsEternal (One Shot Collection) Dare to Hope, Dare to Dream by https://theonewiththefanfics.tumblr.com/ Nightfall Heir by Azukiel romancing the (un)dead by marleymars Someone to shed some light by thedreamlessnights Give the Devil His Due by thedreamlessnights Weave Wielder by Gale_order_bride Big Love Ahead by GalacticGraffiti Bad Idea Right? by ghostchemsiii Eat My Heart by DaisyBoo_21

Batman: Surely, You'd Burn the Same by Startabi

Boys, The: Diamonds are Forever by Bxwitched

Call of Duty: After the End by WavesAgainstACliff Tethered Bonds by HallowsEve333 Blackbird, Fly by eowynstwin Fear of God by emphemeron cabin fever by moondirti take me home, country road by emphemeron The Warren by syoddeye

Descendants, The: Can’t Stop this Feeling by Descendantofthesparrow

F-J:

Fallout: A Well Timed Scandal by Cantique from a previous life by ghoulsbounty

Flash, The: Writing's On the Wall by Elfwoodfae

Heroes (We Can Be): Room Required by starlightmornings

K-O:

Marvel: More than Curiosity by theboldsnake Accidentally on Purpose by becauseicantthinkwritings Objects in Motion by becauseicantthinkwritings Alter of our Sins by becauseicantthinkwritings Teeth by becauseicantthinkwritings Beast within masterlist by skvatnavle To Be Loved By the Moon by qjuiq Emperor's New Clothes by Maiden_of_Asgard The Baron's Painter Masterlist by mahbonesmccoy

One Piece: A Bounty As Boundless As The Sea by Rainbow_Moonstone Bound by Fate by Cyberpunk99 Cabin Fever by moondirti Emperor’s Prize by hannahbarberra162 Wrong Place, Wrong Time by KDS_Cat_Trickster Fear to Tread by November_Bris If You Were My Little Girl by shonengirlfriend Numbers Game by TurtleTaub Peppermint Tea by Short_honey_badger Sapsorrow by FanaticSnail Struck Twice By Lightning by hannahbarberra162 The Musician and the Surgeon by TzimisceQueen the safest place in the storm is on its eye by anneliesmya Fear to Tread by November_Bris Decode by hhighkey

P-T:

Resident Evil: After Midnight by RainFox88 Black, Black, Heart by AshFormerlyAura Masquerade by Kdledga https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13800871/1 Sequela by Ripsi Weapon of Mass Destruction by SEchelon Black Wedding by SugarGlaze Eclipsed by the Moonlight Sonata by VinLHeelys Heartless by Jaester Progenitor woman by BetrayedWriter

Sandman, The: What Dreams Know About Love by Ladyumbrella Halcyon by irabelas Hello, Mr. Monster by Cuckoo_On_A_String His Gift by BoredWriterOnTheInternet His Ruby by Starlight_Writes Precious Things by Peachesof_Teal O·Mission by LadyofWhims Regina Somniantium by Rhune Precious Things (Little Earthquakes) by Peachesof_Teal The First of Many by babypandacakes This Waking Nightmare by InorganicOne2230 treehouse by inlovewithanendless The Bizarre Breeding Habits of Anthropomorphic Personifications by alteon77 26 Ways of Taking You_IP by thoughtsfromlayla Crimson Stained Petals_IP by Roguelov Destined Dreams of Love Masterlist by thoughtsfromlayla Dreams of Loneliness by aclowder In the Woods by Peachesof_Teal It Isn't Abduction If You're Willing by by CaitlinWells lady morpheus by thefudge Sometimes It’s Fated by withoutyouimsaskia The Anthology of Asmodeus’ Heir by dilemmaontwolegs Sweet Distraction by Darklinsblog

Star Trek: Exposure by peridotsarelongterm Mirrorverse by eyeofdionysus turn our hearts to the stars by Panthera_tigris

Supernatural: Worldwalker by theinsandoutsofcastiel

Triple Frontier: Half of You by foxilayde

[distractivate]

Trivia (Wednes)day

Creators: give a “behind the scenes” look at one of your works. This could be things that got removed or changed, the origins of ideas/details, whatever you like!

Thanks to @smblmn​ for tagging me!

When I had a lot more free time than I do now, I often created digital models of the locations where my fics were set (AUs or outside of SC). My background is in design, so this activity was not totally out there for my interests, if still a bit unhinged lol. Making the model usually helps me percolate and develop details that find their way into the story. Making a model of the Rose Video store for The Last Rose Video gave me the idea that David would turn the adult video room into the community room that was a huge part of boosting the store's success. In Blackbird, Fly, the model of the bunker gave me the idea for David to use the service ramp as his own kind of meditation walk, which ended up opening the fic.

Normally the models aren't that pretty to look at, but I was really stuck on Good Winter, and I spent a lot of time avoiding writing modeling the Brewer Family fishing cabin and thinking about what objects Patrick could discover and ruminate about. It helped me brainstorm how those objects would tell the story of his emotional state, his family history, and his relationship with Rachel. I worked back and forth, from model to fic draft to model, adding details to both.

I vividly remember writing the excerpt below about Marcy and her dishes, which came to me so clearly while laying out the kitchen in the model.

Patrick nods and ponders that as he sits down next to him with their cups of tea. That’s maybe what he’s doing here. Finally.

“Are these antique?” David asks, studying the delicate blue floral pattern on the soft white china.

“I assume. They were my grandmother’s.”

“They’re fancy,” he says appreciatively, taking another sip.

His dad didn’t even question it when his mom unpacked the box of china that first summer after her mother died. He just turned fond and kissed the top of her head, and they spent summers eating fried fish on the same fine china she’d used for big family dinners since she was a girl. They’re so out of place here at the end of a very long road from nowhere to nowhere, but he loves them, loves the way his mother said yes to wilderness and no to being wild about it.

After his week here, he can see she was always doing that, adding touches to the cabin to soften it. His dad complained once about how fishing cabins were supposed to be rough, but just once. Patrick suspects he actually loves it.

The will to bend places to suit, instead of the other way around, is something he admires about David, too. Sometimes Patrick complains about how quickly they go through candles, but he loves walking into the bedroom, the Cedar and Suede reminding him of home and work and partnership in every sense of the word.

Anyway this is my one surefire way to kick writer's block, and I miss having more time to work this way.

Tagging @likerealpeopledo-on-ao3 @olive2read @icmezzo and anyone else who wants to join.

[wqintraining]

NEW X-MEN: THE ANIMATED SERIES - SEASON 1, EPISODE 13 (PART 2 of 2) (SEASON FINALE)

We open many years ago in a time and place we’ve seen before. A conservatively dressed, teenage Jean Grey steps out of a car, arriving at the Xavier Institute and looking at it in awe. As she comes through the front gates, Professor Xavier and his four X-Men come to greet her outside. While Xavier is polite and cordial and Iceman couldn’t seem any less interested, Cyclops, Beast, and Angel all introduce themselves overly eagerly with lustful intentions.

While Jean seems less than impressed and put off by Warren and Hank, respectively, she’s charmed by Scott’s approach as he takes her hand, bends down, and kisses it. While she giggles as he does this, when he stands up, he finds he’s now shrouded in darkness, and Jean’s eyes are aflame.

In one swift motion, she reaches into his chest and pulls his heart out.

JEAN: “We are the reason your heart beats, and yet you break ours? You do not deserve this, Scott Summers.”

Scott falls over onto his back as the two both become their adult selves. Jean grins down at Scott as his eyes bulge and his body convulses as he bleeds out from the gaping wound in his chest.

We cut straight to another past event, this one somewhere we haven’t been before. A slightly younger Emma Frost, Sebastian Shaw, Mastermind, and other men all dressed like they’re from the 1800s have a toast to their new Black Queen. Said Black Queen is revealed to be Jean, who joins them in their toast, adding in that’s it to their defeat of the X-Men, and the world which will soon be theirs.

Cyclops, Storm, Colossus, and Nightcrawler, all captured and restrained, look on in horror as they call out to their friend, shouting at her that they’re brainwashing her in an attempt to reach her.

Emma possessively puts an arm around Jean, evil smirks on both of their faces, and asks what she has to say to these peasants for insulting them like this.

Jean’s eyes ignite as she spins around and tears Emma’s arm off. As Emma screams in agony and darkness surrounds them, the two become their modern selves.

JEAN: “You have always been a wicked witch, Emma Frost. We gave you a second chance, and you failed in the worst way you could have: you corrupted a good soul. You do not deserve the gift of life.”

As Emma continues to scream, we cut to her bedroom in the Institute, where Rachel is sweating, spell circles over both Scott and Emma’s heads.

RACHEL: “Come on, come on, come on…”

There’s a flash of red light and Rachel is sent flying back across the room as Cyclops and Emma jolt awake, gasping.

While Emma is struggling to compose herself, Rachel gets up, rubbing her “roughed up booty”, and asks her dad if he’s feeling well enough she can smack him for being a dirty cheater.

SCOTT: “...what have I done?”

The room turns silent as he and Emma continue to shiver.

In her estate, Nova sips her tea with her eyes closed. Every sentinel she’s deployed has been destroyed, but she still has 20 left. And with the Dark Phoenix coming to Earth, everything is falling into place.

In space, we find the Dark Phoenix speeding past planet after planet on her way back to Earth, a manic grin spread across her face, and the phoenix aura ten times her size.

In the Blackbird, Storm is arming every single one of the ship’s weapons they don’t normally use, Betsy seated in the front next to her. In the back of the ship, Kitty is clearly freaking out, and just trying to stay composed. Roberto, smiling with all his shiny teeth showing, asks what she’s so worried about.

ROBERTO: “You love bragging about how many times you’ve saved the world! And unless you were betraying your poor friend’s trust and lying to me, you’ve saved the whole universe. Why do you think this time will be any different?”

KITTY, holding herself: “Would you believe me I told you things have never been this bad? The X-Men have stopped the Phoenix, they’ve stopped armies of Sentinels, and they’ve stopped evil telepaths, but never all at once. And never because of our own mistakes.”

Roberto asks Kitty exactly what she means, with her everyone for this situation. Scott for being a dick who couldn’t keep it in his pants and for bringing Emma in in the first place, Emma for “seducing” Scott, Jean for not just crying into a tub of ice cream after getting cheated on like a normal woman, and the rest of them for not noticing how “too good to be true” Jean had been lately, and not seeing that she was one trigger away from blowing up.

KITTY: “I’m supposed to be the smart one, aren’t I?”

Roberto laughs and shakes his head. Maybe they did all screw up. Maybe they should have done more. And maybe the situation right now is more dire than ever. But they have a plan, and they need to trust it.

ROBERTO: “Never, ever, second guess a plan.”

Kitty still doesn’t seem reassured, so Roberto makes her a bet: If they survive this with no one getting killed, he gets to use her makeup whenever he wants, without asking.

Kitty giggles. “And if someone does die?”

ROBERTO: “Not going to happen, so not worth thinking much about. I don’t know…I’ll buy you something pretty?”

Kitty snort laughs.

ROBERTO: “There she is!”

KItty sighs as she calms down. “I wish I could be as carefree as you, Beto.”

ROBERTO: “It’s a gift.”

With the Blackbird ready to go, Storm shouts on the coms, demanding to know where Wolverine is.

Elsewhere in the institute, Laura tells her she’ll be there in two minutes. She’s making sure they’re ready.

Laura arrives in the medical bay, where the training squad and Roxy surrounded Noriko, who Beast’s just finished patching up. Several former X-Men are far more severely wounded and are asleep in beds.

BEAST: “Well, Ms. Kinney, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that you didn’t actually break anything in your little scuffle, but you did give the poor girl a concussion. I believe an apology is in order, yes?”

LAURA: “Sorry.”

Noriko flips her off with both hands.

As everyone walks out of the med bay on Beast’s request so that he can look after his more in-need patients, Julian asks what she’s doing here. Shouldn’t she be with the X-Men?

LAURA: “Yes. And so should you.”

Laura tells them that they were right. She was worried about them, and she didn’t want them getting hurt, especially not because of her, but the amateurs she saw in that foodfight at the start of the semester don’t even resemble who Wind Dancer, Surge, and Hellion are now. The rate of their growth has been incredible. And while she’s sure they’re not done growing, they are ready.

LAURA: “All of you are.”

Brian and the other girls look shocked. Laura tells Cessily that she was in that foodfight too. Is she going to tell her she’s stayed stagnant while those three have grown so much? And while Sooraya may lack experience fighting villains, her performance scores have always kept up with Surge and Wind Dancer’s.

LAURA: “You two believed in me that I could handle Sabretooth. I believe you two can handle this.”

Laura looks to Brian.

Brian shakes his head. “No. I can’t do it. Literally! I literally cannot fight giant robots!”

Laura smirks. “Obviously. But if one comes to the school, you can make them run away, and no one HAS to fight them.”

Brian is nervous, but appreciates the vote of confidence. And he does want to help.

BRIAN: “I can do that, Creepy Girl. I can do that.”

Julian cheers.

JULIAN: “This is so IT! Everyone else in school already knows I’m the best Mutant here besides Laura and deserve to be an X-Man too, and by the end of today, Storm will see that too.” Julian takes Sofia’s hand. “I promised you we’d be heroes together. And now I’m gonna show you what a hero I can be.”

Sofia grins.

SOFIA: “I have been afraid. I have been afraid of being hurt again, and of how I can hurt others.” She clenches Julian’s hand. “But I know that so long as I have all of you at my side, I have nothing to fear.”

Noriko groans.

NORIKO: “I still think anyone who wants to be an X-Man is cuckoo banana pants crazy.” Noriko cracks her shoulder. “So call me crazy, I guess.”

Cessily and Sooraya nod in agreement. Roxy is clearly terrified by what’s going on, so Cessily wraps her arms around her and kisses her on the lips. She promises they’re all coming home safe.

CESSILY: “I am NOT setting a world record for shortest lived relationship by getting killed!”

Laura grins. These are her friends. These are the people she can count on to watch her back.

LAURA: “Let’s go.”

As the Blackbird takes off, the four adults and six kids heading off to take on Nova, Scott and Emma rush toward the hangar so they can take one of their smaller ships so they can intercept Dark Phoenix before she reaches Genosha, Scott having been contacted by Xavier, while Emma gets a headache from the psionic energy Jean is emanating from across the solar system.  

EMMA: “I haven’t touched hard drugs in years, but my mind is going to need them to recover from all this. Care to join me, Mr. Summers?”

SCOTT: “Don’t. Don’t make jokes. Don’t talk to me. We made a mistake. A big one. The only reason you’re coming with me instead of Rachel is if killing us is the only thing which will make Jean calm down. Even if we live through today, this is never happening again.”

EMMA, sarcastically: “Oh no, I’m so crushingly disappointed. Wherever will I find another man like you?”

Scott makes it into the hangar and, while he isn’t looking, Emma is visibly more upset by his words than she let on.

In the Blackbird, Hellion and Wind Dancer are holding hands, nervous but excited to prove themselves, Surge is anxiously tapping her foot at super speed, Mercury is struggling to stay solid with all the nerves she’s feeling, and Dust is praying. Laura meanwhile gets psychically linked up to Storm and Betsy.

Storm wants to know if Laura really trusts her friends for this mission. There’s no doubt they’re talented, but she should have consulted her on this instead of running off on her own and giving her no choice but to bring them. Laura promises they proved themselves to her. If she’s really an equal X-Man to the others, they’ll trust her judgement.

Storm takes a breath.

STORM, under her breath: “Just like you, Logan.”

As the Blackbird rockets toward Nova’s estate, she finally stands from her seat. It’s time to get her hands a little dirty. As she exits her parlor, she psychically deploys all of her remaining sentinels.

The sentinels meet the Blackbird in the sky, or at least some of them do, as others fly off in other directions. Storm quickly calls out orders, telling Hellion and Wind Dancer to keep themselves as well as Sunspot, Laura, Surge, Dust, and Mercury airborn to deal with the sentinels, while Kitty pilots the Blackbird to back them up with its weapons, and she and Betsy make the final push toward Nova.

Everyone does as they are told as they all leave the plane, except for Kitty.

KITTY, over coms: “Beto, let’s try not to embarrass ourselves in front of the kids, alright?”

ROBERTO, floating in the sky, surrounded by sentinels with the kids: “Roberto Da Costa hasn’t embarrassed himself once in his life.”

JULIAN: “Phh. Please, Professor. Even I know that isn’t true. Now come on! Enough talk! Let’s show these tin cans what the next generation of mutants is all!...about.”

Jullian’s face falls as he looks a sentinel in the eyes and freezes up. He lets go of Sofia’s hand as his own shakes.

WIND DANCER, concerned: “Hellion?”

Still flying toward Genosha, Scott has Emma put him in contact with Magneto. Charles has already contacted Erik and informed him of the situation. He pities Jean, and should her wrath burn away all that he protects, even after death, he will never forgive Cyclops.

MAGNETO: “I expected more from you.”

Scott, hanging his head: “So did I.”

Cyclops asks if Scarlet Witch is backing him up. If he and Emma can’t calm Jean down, Wanda is the only person on Earth even capable of hurting Dark Phoenix. Magneto tells him that she isn’t even on Earth right now, instead fulfilling her mystical duties in another realm. Quicksilver and Polaris are similarly pre-occupied. He has other combatants on Genosha, but none that he’s willing to throw into this particular line of fire. All Scott can do is promise they’ll be there as soon as they can.

In the distance, Magneto can see more sentinels coming.

MAGNETO: “See that you do.”

With a pan across the ocean, we see that Nova’s estate is actually on an island only a few miles away from Genosha.

Nova calmly walks out of her house and shuts it behind her, only to grin wildly and leap out of the way as Storm calls down a bolt of lightning to strike her. Nova’s eyes light up as she looks into the sky and sees Storm and Captain Britain.

NOVA: “Storm! A pleasure to meet a goddess face to face! I hope you can live up to that title.” She turns her head to Betsy. “And you brought a friend. Captain Britain, yes? I should be honored to me a hero of your calibur…but I always preferred your brother.”

The two veteran heroes are unphased by Nova’s taunts, with Storm ordering Nova to call off her attack before they’re forced to make her.

STORM: “For all your crimes against your own people, there is no salvation for you, but you can still escape the full extent of my wrath.”

Nova hums as she rolls her head around, confusing Ororo and Betsy.

NOVA: “Wrath. One of my favorite words. And one of my favorite things to demonstrate.”

With her grin spreading unnaturally across her face, Nova blasts Nova and Betsy out of the sky with a psychic wave. Storm and Betsy get right back up, however, and with the winds summoned and sword and shield drawn, the two charge into battle.

Nearby, Sunspot is punching and blasting away at all the Sentinels in the sky, while Laura chops them up, Surge and Dust hit them with everything they’ve got, and Kitty provides cover fire from the Blackbird, Hellion is frozen, with Wind Dancer having to keep everyone airborn herself, while also keeping Julian from getting killed, and Cessily is crying, using her powers purely to dodge and run away in terror, shouting that she’s sorry and she can’t do this.

KITTY, taking note of what’s going on: “Dammit.”

SUNSPOT, over comms: “Care to step in with a motivational speech? Those aren’t really my style.”

Kitty pinches her forehead.

KITTY, over comms: “Don’t have time for this. Wind Dancer, get everyone to the ground and get Hellion out of there! Wolverine, grab Mercury NOW and jump! Surge, Dust keep up the good work! We are not losing anyone!”

Laura, pissed and growling, tries to reach Cessily, but a Sentinel gets in her way, delaying her. Wind Dancer meanwhile completely ignores orders, instead adding to her current tasklist by going on the offensive against the sentinels herself, slicing away at their outer armor with sharp winds, and by electing to do something different about the current problem they face.

WIND DANCER: “Julian, I understand you’re afraid, believe me, I understand, but we need you right now.”

HELLION: “I…I can’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t.”

Kitty once again shouts at Sofia to get everyone down NOW, while Laura continues to fight, and Mercury is clearly getting tired.

WIND DANCER: “Please. Don’t you want to be a great hero?”

Julian tenses up, clenching his fists and on the verge of tears.

HELLION: “Do I look like a hero, Sofia? Guess I was all talk. Ashida will get a good kick out of–”

Sofia slaps him. Julian is confused, but Sofia just looks at him sternly.

SOFIA: “There are two things I know about my new boyfriend. Number one: He never doubts his greatness. And number two: He’d never, ever, do anything which would make Noriko look better than him.”

JULIAN: “Sofia…”

SOFIA: “ARE you my new superhero boyfriend, or are you going to tell everyone at school that Surge is better than Hellion?”

The two stare each other down…until Julian untenses and smirk spread across his face.

JULIAN: “Not a chance.”

Julian gives Sofia a quick kiss on the lips before shrounding everyone in his TK fields and jumping into the fight to save Mercury from an incoming attack.

HELLION: “Sorry about that, everyone! It won’t happen again. Now you get out of your funk too, Cess! I know you’re better than this!”

Using his TK, Julian helps Mercury re-solidify in her base form and carries away her tears.

JULIAN: “Remember when we met? I told you how you could show everyone at school everything your awesome body can do. Time to show the world.”

With a warm, charming style from Julian, Cessily sniffles one more time before recomposing herself.

Laura finally takes out the sentinel she was fighting and reaches the two, Sofia flying over to them at the same time.

LAURA: “You three ready to actually help now?”

MERCURY: “If you and Julian know I can do this, then I have to accept it.”

SOFIA: “Apologies for the delay.”

Laura smirks “Good. Couldn’t have you all making me look dumb.”

The four of them re-enter the main fray together.

In the sky above Genosha, Magneto battles a whole squad of sentinels by himself. Impressive as that is, he notes that this shouldn’t even be a fight at all, yet somehow they’re somewhat resistant to his magnetism. There’s something different about these sentinels.

Scott and Emma finally arrive, ready to back Erik up, but as Emma carries the two of them out of their ship, something odd happens: Magneto, the sentinels, and all the in-progress attacks are frozen in place.

EMMA: “I don’t suppose there are any Mutants on Genosha with control over time?”

SCOTT: “Not that I’m aware of.”

The two shield their eyes from a blinding light as Jean, still shrouded in a massive Dark Phoenix force, cackles. She’s been waiting for them. And she wanted some privacy. Before she burns this world to ashes, she wants to do some quick “couples counseling”.

Storm attacks Nova were lightning strikes and winds clearly far heavier than Sofia’s, but they fail to do anything against Nova’s psychic shield, as she leaps into the sky and launches another psychic wave at Ororo and Betsy. This time, Betsy is able to block the attack with her shield, though it does leave her with a bloody nose.

NOVA: “Hmm. Best deal with you first.”

Nova’s eyes glow white as Betsy’s forcibly turn purple. As Storm continues her assault on Nova, Nova’s battle with Betsy takes to the astral plane, as giant, psychically projected versions of themselves engage in combat, with Betsy unable to do anything against Nova’s raw power but play defense.

NOVA: “I can’t say I know anything about you personally, Captain, but do you really believe you’re fit to stand in Brian Braddock’s shoes? You wear those colors, that armor, and represent the greatest country in the world. Nobility or not, is that really a job for a…” she snickers. “...a woman like yourself?”

As Storm finally manages to land a clean hit on Nova, Betsy too is able to start striking back.

BETSY: “You’re the sister of Charles Xavier. You’re a Mutant. What could possibly make you hate us like this?”

NOVA: “If a spider nearly stopped you from being born, if you vividly remembered it trying to kill you, wouldn’t you hate all spiders?”

BETSY: “We are not spiders!”

NOVA: “Nor are you real. Not really. And with every one of you I kill, I make Charles suffer that much more. And that, dear girl, is the only thing that really matters.”

Pulling off a wild aerial maneuver in the Blackbird, Kitty is contacted by Storm over the coms. She’s unsure if she and Captain Britain will be able to defeat Nova on their own. She’s requesting both she and Sunspot come to back them up, not Laura because she doesn’t have the mental defenses necessary to even approach Nova, but she ONLY wants them if she believes Wolverine and the students have the Sentinels handled on their own. It’s her call.

Outside, the kids have gotten their act together, and with Hellion having snapped out of his funk, a leader has emerged.

HELLION: “Wind Dancer, I’ll yank off their armor after you’ve worn them down, then you slash up their insides! Mercury, Dust, stop attacking them head on! Get inside them and mess em up from the inside! Surge, handless fastball!”

Julian, Sofia, Cessily, and Sooraya all do exactly as the former said, taking out several sentinels. As for the “handless fastball”, we see that it involves Surge coating herself in her electrical aura, Hellion putting an additional forcefield around her, and Surge vibrating at super speed before getting launched by Hellion. While this attack hurt’s Nori’s head more than it did in the danger room, it does succeed in putting a hole straight through a sentinel’s chest.

LAURA, over the coms: “Go, Professors. We’ve got this.”

Kitty takes one more moment to mull this over, before calling for Beto to get on board, and wishing them luck.

While the kids are on fire figuratively, it’s literal for Scott and Emma as Jean tortures them both. Emma attempts to fight back, but her psychic attacks peter out in Phoenix’s flames before they can even reach Jean.

Jean laughs.

JEAN: “Oh, Emma. You may be one of the most powerful telepaths on Earth, but you’re still only human.”

Scott begs Jean to stop and to just talk to him, only for Jean to remove his visor and force his eyes open so that she can absorb all of the optic energy he emits.

JEAN: “Consuming a world will take no effort on our part, but regrowing it will. We’ll need to be at our strongest. Consider this an involuntary apology gift, slime.”

While Jean continues to absorb Cyclops’ energy, she also turns some of it onto Emma.

As Emma screams, Jean taunts her.

JEAN: “Isn’t this a little like what you did to Jean Grey’s friends in the old days? We’re certainly enjoying ourselves enough. But unlike them, you’ve done everything to deserve this.”

Scott and Emma are completely helpless.

On both the physical and astral plains, Storm and Captain Britain aren’t fairing much better. Nova’s attacks are now not just hurting Storm, but bypassing her mental defenses to an extent, taunting her with the visuals of what her best friend is doing right now.

NOVA: “These were the people you trusted? You fought Cyclops for leadership of this team once. Perhaps you should have done it again.”

Things are even worse on the astral plane, as Betsy is simply no match for Nova. With each hit her projection takes, her real body gets more and more slashed up. Accepting she can’t win, Betsy elects to at least do what she can.

Captain Britain re-absorbs her astral self into her body and flings herself through the air and Nova.

BETSY, telepathically: “Storm! Cover!”

As Storm shrouds the two telepaths in clouds, purple and white lights flash.

As the clouds clear, Betsy has a psychic knife through Nova’s head, while Nova is gripping Betsy’s.

Betsy falls unconscious, but for the first time, Nova actually seems to be disoriented and in pain.

NOVA: “What did you do to me you little–?”

Storm cuts her off as she shifts the atmosphere around Nova to an unbearably hot temperature.

STORM: “The psychic knife shuts down a normal person’s mind, no matter their defenses. It seems it only weakened you.” With perfect timing, the Blackbird arrives, Kitty and Sunspot phasing through it and dropping down next to Storm. “But we can do the rest.”

Having gotten into a perfect rhythm and executing Julian’s orders perfectly, the kids are having the time of their lives. They’re all clearly proud of themselves, but none moreso than Laura for having made the right call in bringing them.

LAURA: “Only two left. Take them out.”

Nova meanwhile laughs. Kitty, who makes a remark that she really never needed to know what Professor Xavier with boobs would look like, questions what’s so funny.

NOVA: “What’s so funny? A lot of things in this world. Crying babies, natural disasters, wide-spread plagues and diseases…and dead children.”

As the six kids move to take out the two remaining sentinels, the machines’ eyes turn white, and a new layer of armor forms around each of them.

NOVA: “You didn’t think I’d played all my cards, did you?”

While Wolverine, Hellion, Wind Dancer, and Surge focus on attacking one of the two remaining sentinels, with little success, Mercury and Dust are able to circumvent the new armor and get inside the other one. However, once they’re inside, it electrocutes them both. As the girls scream in agony, Hellion panics and abandons his current battle to go and pull them out of there.

HELLION: “I’m the one who’s about to become an X-Man! I’m not letting any of my squad get killed here!

Julian is successfully able to extract his friends from the death machine and help them re-form before they fall unconscious.

HELLION: “Sleep tight, girls. Leave the rest to me.”

While both Storm and Sunspot blast away at the weakened Nova, the older woman now needing to actively deflect their attacks instead of passively shielding herself, Laura, Sofia, and Noriko are knocked around by one of the sentinels, unable to damage it. Wolverine shouts at Hellion to stick with the group and back them up, but he says he’s not backing down again, and is gonna make this thing pay for hurting his friends.

HELLION: “I’m never doubting myself again.”

WIND DANCER: “You idiot! This isn’t what I meant!”

Proudly proclaiming that he’s the strongest here, Hellion attempts to fight one of the “super-sentinels” on his own, throwing everything he has at it.

The results are disastrous, as the sentinel counterattacks and blasts off both of Hellion’s hands.

Everything goes silent, with Julian in shock, and horror on Sofia and Laura’s faces, before Julian cries hysterically and screams at the top of his lungs as his stubs gush blood.

Jean continues to torment Scott and Emma, both with her flames, and with more visions, as Scott gets a highlight reel of the two’s most romantic moments to shame him, while Emma is taunted with the ghosts of the Hellions, Synch, and Skin, as well as one other man. Someone who appears slightly older than Emma, but sickly, with a shaved head and a scar across his neck, who lays in a hospital bed with empty eyes.

JEAN: “Christian Frost. How did you ever think someone like you could protect anyone else if you couldn’t even protect your own brother? Destruction is all you’re good for.”

Emma seemingly cracks, but while she is hurt…

EMMA: “Fine! You win, goddess! I’m a monster! But if you’re poking around in my head, you know that I’m not ignorant about this fact! Can you say the same for yourself, or do you honestly believe you’re granting the world, and not yourself, a boon by ending it? I hope you can’t see that, because that means you don’t realize…” Emma cackles as she chokes on her own blood before it dribbles now her chin. “That means you don’t realize the final thing humanity will learn is that Emma Frost was a better hero than Jean Grey.”

The Phoenix’s grin disappears as Jean gets pissed.

The X-Men continue to battle Nova, who, between Storm and Sunspot’s attacks, and her focus being drawn toward Kitty, needing to stay aware of her at all times as she phases across and underneath the battlefield so she can’t grab her, is being worn down. But she refuses to go down and changes tactics.

With their mental defenses not as strong as Storm’s, Nova takes control over Sunspot and Kitty’s minds and forces them to fight her for her.

The kids are all mortified by what’s happened to Julian, as he continues to screams. Surge in a panic and talking super fast asks Wolverine what they should do, but with Laura flashing back to when she killed her mom, she’s frozen up. Sofia makes the call herself. They have 3 down, one critically injured, and they don’t know how to fight these new sentinels; they have to retreat.

Sofia carries everyone down to the ground, while the sentinels fly off toward their original destination.

WIND DANCER: “It’s going to be okay, Julian. I promise. Surge! Cauterize his wounds!”

SURGE: “Wh…what?”

WIND DANCER: “You should be able to do that, right? Do it now!”

While Surge charges up her hands, closing her eyes and cringing as she takes hold of Julian’s bloody nubs to cauterize them, Laura stands over her friends. Julian was maimed, Mercury and Dust are unconscious and were nearly killed, Surge is a mess, and she’s sure Wind Dancer is just forcing herself to keep a brave face.

LAURA: “I’m sorry, everyone.”

Laura falls to her knees.

Cyclops tells Dark Phoenix to kill them if she has to, but please, spare the world. He knows Jean, he knows Phoenix, and this isn’t what either of them want to do. They’ll regret it for all eternity, just like last time.

DARK PHOENIX: “Do not dare tell us what we want!”

CYCLOPS: “I’m not telling you what you want. I’m telling you what I know about you. I made a mistake. A horrible mistake I can never undo. I’m…I’m realizing things. About who I am. About my life. And not everything is how I thought it was. But I swear, I love you just as much as the day we met. And there’s no one in the world who knows you better.”

The Dark Phoenix falters, uncertainly appearing on her face, watching a vision of her and Scott’s first meeting, as it transitions into her and Scott’s wedding. She looks back at Scott solemnly.

Storm dodges Sunspot and Kitty’s attacks as she tries the old tactic of telling the two to get a hold of themselves.

STORM: “That never works.”

Storm flies up into the sky and, with a singlie bolt of lightning, knocks out Sunspot. She’s going to hit Kitty next, but when she realizes she’s disappeared, she’s momentarily distracted. Nova takes full advantage of this, seizing the split second to hit Storm will a full force mental blast. The goddess bleeds from her eyes as she’s brought to her knees.

As Storm shakes, Nova hunches over to her and puts a gun to her head.

NOVA: “Any last words?”

STORM: “I am no telepath. But I hear your words. And your actions speak louder than they ever could. You have nothing but hate inside in your heart.”

NOVA: “And all the happier for it.”

We go into slo-mo as Nova starts pressing down on the trigger, but before she can fire, Storm grabs her and gives her the full electrocution treatment, stunning Nova, making her scream in pain like she’s done to so many others, and breaking down the last of her physical defenses.

But she still stands, while Storm falls over. Nova, scorched all over her body and barely standing, laughs at Storm. She knows she could have killed her there. But she didn’t. She’s too good and pure for that. And too stupid to know better.

Nova pistol whips Storm.

NOVA: “Oh, it would have been fun to break you. Alas, I had to settle for Cyclops. Watching him kill Stryker was amusing though.”

Storm is barely conscious, but her eyes still express shock at that.

Nova puts the gun to Storm’s head once more.

But once again, she’s stopped. This time, courtesy of Katharine Anne Pryde, as she emerges from the ground and uppercuts Nova. Nova’s eyes fill with shock and bloody flies out of her mouth as her jaw is broken, and she’s knocked unconscious.

KITTY: “Count yourself lucky, you monster. I could have killed you too.”

Kitty helps Storm up, with Storm saying she cut that a little close. Betsy and Sunspot, both now conscious, approach the two, leaning on each other, express how they only had one shot at this, and needed to make sure they got it right.

Turns out, Betsy wasn’t fully knocked out by Nova’s attack; she only made her think she was, and she was in bad enough shape to sell it. She snapped Kitty out of Nova’s brainwashing, and hid her mind while she was underground so that, once Storm had sufficiently weakened her, she could nail her with a surprise attack to finish her.

BETSY: “I have to say, Sunspot, I wouldn’t have taken you for a strategist.”

ROBERTO: “Oh, you know, I’m a man of many talents.”

Kitty laughs, and checks in with the kids on the coms…only to see how they’re doing in person.

Laura, Sofia, and Noriko approach the adults, each carrying one of their friends on their backs. Laura’s eyes are lifeless, Noriko can’t stop looking at all the blood on her gauntlets, and Sofia is struggling not to cry.

Despite being in bad shape themselves, the adults rush over to the kids to look after them. Beto and Betsy look after their injured, while Kitty hugs Noriko, and Storm hugs Laura and Sofia.

Jean looks at Scott lovingly. “Please” is all he has left to say. She turns to Emma and sneers.

JEAN: “What of you? Are you willing to give your life for this world?”

Emma sneers right back at Jean.

EMMA: “Well, that is why I was brought along.” She pauses. “But before you smite me, power down, and make a half-hearted attempt to salvage a marriage which was dead before it even started, I want you to look at me, really look at me, and tell me that is what you desire.”

SCOTT: “Emma, what are you–”

EMMA: “Shhhh.”

Jean and Emma continue to stare each other down. Until Jean smiles, not with the burning intensity of Phoenix, but with gentle warmth. They have made their decision: Earth does not burn today.

Scott and Emma’s face light up, only for Jean to utter a dower, “However…”

On the Blackbird, Nova, who’s been equipped with power-dampening handcuffs, is still barely conscious as it turns out, and she laughs, coughing as she does so. Kitty asks what’s so funny about heading to a life imprisonment.

NOVA: “That doesn’t matter. None of this matters. The second the Dark Phoenix was in play, my victory was already assured.”

While Betsy is banding up Hellion, the others look at Nova with concern, demanding she tells them what’s going on.

NOVA: “You’re about to find out.”

Jean grins evily as she flares up her power even further. The world may not burn today, but they must still pay. Their betrayal must have consequences.

JEAN: “And so, you shall both die. You shall die among the people we three vowed to protect.”

Scott and Jean panic, but there’s nothing left to say. Time unfreezes as Scott and Emma are transported to Genosha.

With Magneto nowhere to be seen, the two broken down heroes are helpless as the sentinels fly over Genosha and firebomb the entire country.

In the Blackbird, Betsy drops to her knees in silent horror as she sees what’s happened. She shares the vision with the others, with Storm and Betsy taking the sight similarly to her,  while Kitty screams and cries.

Season 1 ends on the sight of Genosha completely destroyed, and 16 million Mutants dead.

[grumpygreenwitch]

The Witches and Wizards Job 34-35-36

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THIRTY FOUR

Nate closed his eyes for a moment in the dark.

They had the real portrait, for now.

They had the real Grandmother, for now.

They had Koschei, upstairs, for now.

But the first was going to cost them Parker, the second Eliot and the third Dresden, and at that point the cost got way too high for any con to be feasible. "Hardison," he said at last, beginning to move once again. "Endgame."

"Wh- I'm not ready, Nate!"

"Be ready. Sophie, Fedorov, go make sure our consultant stays in one piece. More or less. I need to borrow your bodyguard for a second, Fedorov."

"Oh, sure, give us the easy job," Sophie shot at him.

"Well, you gave him to me," the Russian agreed easily, looking mildly intrigued. "I suppose you're free to take him back. Are you looking for your thief?"

"Parker?" Nate seemed nothing if not puzzled at the question. "No, she's fine. She just got too close to something that fried her earbud which, you know. Inconvenient. No, I just don't want the Blackbird to know Nick exists. Yet."

Nick's grin broadened in delight at that. "Oh, you understand ambushes. I like you."

"That is slightly terrifying coming from you," the mastermind admitted cheerfully as the group split up. "Eliot, the non-negotiable factor."

"Yeah, I got her." The hitter had slipped into the mansion's vast basement without a problem; it was the one place where there were no visible guards. It was a vast, echoing space, a little dusty but overall in good order. He could see plenty of lights over his head when he shone his phone's flashlight up. Several smaller spaces had been partitioned out: a pantry, a cava, a corner full of totes marked 'Christmas', 'Halloween', 'Easter' and so on. It was also one of the few rooms that betrayed the house's age: salt streaked the concrete walls. There was a good reason why most houses along the New England coastline didn't have basements; once you got inland, sure. But where the land had been stolen from the ocean, the ocean was ever eager to reclaim it, one drop at a time if need be.

He'd found the room behind the old cast iron furnace and its piping, which had been disconnected but never removed. It was one of the few rooms that, like the cava, showed signs that care had gone into its construction, the walls solid when he ran a hand over them. Eliot guessed it was a man-cave of some sort. Light came in from under the door, a steady golden glow which he figured came from the glow-sticks the leshy favored. He could hear the rough, gravelly voices of the leshy and the more familiar Russian speech of the humans with them. The light, the hitter knew, was for their benefit; the leshy couldn't fully see in the dark, but it also didn't hamper them. He counted voices, and steps, walked back to the cava and the pantry, prepared his weapon of choice, took off the earbud and the earclip with the mirror shard, and walked right back to the door, knocking jauntily on it. "Tea service!"

The voices on the other side went silent. "We asked for nothing," someone replied.

"Look, man, I just know I have wine, cheese, some of them lil' toast things, a whole spread of jams -"

The door opened a crack. A man stared out, mouth open and ready to take Eliot's head off, metaphorically, until he saw the massive tray and the two bottles of wine the hitter was carrying.

A leshy came up behind the man, growling quietly. It, too, paused, sniffing. Eliot lifted up the tray, where he'd painstakingly smeared every sweet jam he'd been able to find in the pantry, and grinned winningly. Man and leshy crossed a look, and the door opened all the way. Eliot passed the human one of the wine bottles, winked and stepped in. The door closed behind him.

Two broken bottles, a dented tray, an utterly thrashed room and eight unconscious thugs later, the hitter knocked politely on the bathroom door. "Ma'am? You there?"

The door opened a crack. "That sounded very exciting."

"It gets the blood flowing," Eliot admitted as the old woman stepped out. She could've just as easily been stepping down from the portrait, stern and austere, though there was an odd fragility to her that was not part of Sokolov's work. Her silver hair was neatly braided back and she wore an elegantly simple white blouse with little golden mice for buttons, a flaring skirt with a repeating pattern of dancing farmfolk, and a black knotwork shawl. She glanced appreciatively at two leshy embedded into one of the walls as Eliot escorted her out of the bathroom and through the ruins of the room, and then clung to his arm with a small, very ladylike swear.

"Are you alright?"

She attempted a smile. "He has taken much from me," she admitted. "I did not realize how much until he trapped me. Arrogance makes fools of the best of us." She shrugged a little. One of the thugs groaned, sprawled among the wreck of a low shelf and a scattering of movies. Without missing a beat she aimed one of her sensibly-clad feet and kicked him hard enough to bowl him over and knock him out once again. "What now?"

Eliot managed to stop staring long enough to dig in his pocket for the enchanted mirror shard and clip it back on his ear. "I've got Grandmother, Nate."

"Give it to her."

"Got it." Eliot reached into an inner pocket of his dress jacket and smiled at the old woman. "Got something for you, ma'am. I believe it's yours to begin with." He offered her a plain, coarse square of blue fabric, neatly folded, and she stared at it and him in surprise and keen interest. "So, here's the plan."

While Eliot escorted his precious cargo away, mister Alexander Worthington (the Third), drove back up the driveway to the front of the mansion, yelling to all and sundry as well as at the person on the other line that he did not want to be there, he did not need to be there, he had no reason or goal to be there, not with every portrait being a fake and the seller being a con man - and a bad one, at that. He yelled a brief bout of angry Russian into the phone before hanging up and trotting furiously up the stairs. The guards on duty could scarcely believe their good luck, but they were also not about to question it, even when the Brit switched from whining on the phone to whining at them about everything and anything, the portrait failing to be produced, the outlandish nature of the company, the buffet being a joke. Coming in to find the mansion subsumed in complete darkness did nothing to appease him. He was escorted back to the main room and was there all of ten seconds before disappearing into the dark guts of the house.

They had been told, after all, to keep people in, not out. And mister Worthington (the Third) had been invited.

But only Sophie and Fedorov were close enough to the room on the top floor of the mansion to hear when Harry screamed in pain. She went very still with a little gasp; the Russian enforcer instinctively reached for his gun, and she immediately reached out to put a quelling hand over his. "That won't help," she assured him quietly. "He knew this would happen."

"That does not make me willing to let it," he countered tightly, but he drew his hand away.

"We're not going to let it," she assured him. "I need you to wait out here until it's time for you to come in."

"And how will I know when it is time?"

She smiled a little at him. "Parker will tell you," she assured him, and stepped gracefully away to knock on the room's door.

THIRTY FIVE

Koschei stalked into my room surrounded by half a dozen guards and a single floating source of pale green light. One of the guards was tugging Parker's friend along; she looked pale and terrified, and a little angry. Then again, I was probably all of those things myself, I just had more practice hiding them. "Is this how you treat your guests, Blackbird? Who's your friend?"

He didn't seem to hear my taunt. He rushed over, picked me up by the front of the very nice shirt and vest I was wearing, and lifted me up. He was about my height, which made him taller than the average person, and I was sure he had plenty of muscle to pick people up right off their their feet. But I was just tall enough, just heavy enough, that he couldn't quite pull the trick on me. "What did you do, Dresden," he snarled at me, and it wasn't really a question.

Golly, the list was endless, and I wasn't about to give him even one breath of it without a fight. "Getting a little grabby, aren't we? I don't know what you mean."

"I mean my guests are tearing this place apart down there. I mean my associates think I tried to poison them just now. I mean the Dredgers think I've stolen from them! I mean," he leaned closer until we were barely dodging a Soulgaze, him and me, "that it took me three tries to create the bloody light, so what. did you. do."

"To be fair, you did steal from them."

He dropped me like a sack of flour. "Stone," he said, "disarm him."

His head of security moved forward, but it was one of the guards who'd brought me up to the room who sucker-punched me, driving all the breath right out of me and setting the bruise the leshy had given me to red-hot throbbing pain. I went down on one knee but they pulled me back up, which made my bad shoulder really sing, and they frisked me down with ruthless efficiency. By the time someone dumped me back on my chair they'd taken my staff, my wand, both bracelets, my wallet. They even took off my duster before zip-tying my hands behind the back of the chair. Someone put their hands on me and tried to take my pentacle bracelet, and my anger suddenly came flooding back, helping me gather my scattered wits. I saw the guard kneeling in front of me and snapped my head forward. Forehead to nose, not nose to nose, Eliot had told me, and I tried to remember that.

It was a little harder when I knew the nose I was aiming for wasn't there, but the crunch of the glamour nose was still deeply satisfying. The guard staggered and fell back. Heavy hands yanked me back to the seat and I got punched again, but nothing was going to take away my satisfaction. I heard Jessamine make a little squeak of terror, and then someone shoved her in a chair next to me. "Are you alright?" she whispered at me.

"I've been better," I admitted, trying to get my breath back. Someone had tied my thumbs and index fingers together - while magic was a matter of will and intent, most wizards were trained to use tools, words and gestures to focus their power, like my staff, the bracelets. The words I used were mostly nonsense, but they made sense to me. And while I didn't often use my bare hands, I did tend to fall back on gestures when I didn't have access to anything else. Obviously Koschei knew that as well as I did. I started to work as best I could on tightening the zip-tie further; it wasn't much.

Someone caught my head in a rough grip and yanked the earclip off, handing it off to Koschei. "What is this?" he demanded, sniffing it. "Why does it smell fam-" The most painful feedback sound came out of the earclip and everyone in the room cringed. Koschei threw the earclip on the table along with everything else. "A machine, Dresden? Really?"

"Well, you know, any port in a storm and all that." I had to admire the quick-thinking of Alec-not-a-burger-Hardison. I could think of no better way to disguise the little mirror shard than making it act like the piece of technology it definitely wasn't.

"Well. That tells one much about your magic, does it not," he declared scornfully, flicking his fingers. The guards left me alone. Someone brought him a chair and he sat before me, fussing with his robe first, then with the items his goons had taken from me. "Toys." He rolled my wand between his fingers, and then pocketed it, the asshole. "Scraps. You are many things, Dresden, but I hesitate to even call you a wizard."

He hadn't taken the pin on the collar of my shirt, or my necklace. He hadn't caught onto the shirt.

"Now, what did you do with my painting?"

"Portrait."

His magic hit me hard and fast, like talons closing around my heart and squeezing, slow and relentless. The pain was immediate, burning like acid. I've had worse, but I wasn't about to let him know that. I made what I figured were appropriate noises for someone being tortured. Fortunately, I've had a lot of experience on what that sounds like.

"I have had my patience thoroughly tried tonight, Dresden. It would behoove you to indulge me." He let go of me and smiled that grin that made me want to punch him. "Unless you want the young lady to know what it feels like to disagree with me."

"You won't hurt her. You need her." I grinned at him, but I could feel it in my face, it wasn't friendly.

"I didn't do anything," Jessamine breathed, frightened. Apparently I'd done my job so well I'd spooked the angry right out of her. Time to give her back some agency.

"He can't tell his own portrait from the fakes. He n-" The vise closed around my heart and my lungs, boiling venom, crushing harder this time. "Needs you to make sure he's got the real one," I gritted out, teeth bared at Koschei.

"I am sincerely wondering if you are worth the trouble of keeping you alive, Dresden."

"Get in line, you old bird. You think tonight ends with you winning? You've lost everything. You filled this house with fake portraits, and now you can't tell yours from the copies. The Dredgers know you cheated them. Some of the most powerful people in the European and Asian supernatural underworlds think you were out to kill them. I don't know what you were after but man, you're certainly raking up some heavy-duty debts in the process, aren't you? Can't wait to see you try to squirm out of them-"

Unsurprisingly, he struck again. This time his power locked not just around my heart but my lungs, up my throat. I could taste the foulness of it on the back of my mouth, blackest magic. I heard myself scream, blowing air out of my lungs just to try and get some of the foulness out with it. "I will tell them you did it," he declared blithely. "You will not be around to defend yourself, of course."

"Leave him alone!" Jessamine yelled at him.

There was a knock on the door. Koschei let me go and stood up, and I heard him speaking to the guards. There was a sense of wary readiness in the air that made the hair on my arms stand up on end. A guard opened the door while Koschei faced it.

It's hard to explain the quality anyone's talking about when they say that something shines with the darkest light. It's a radiance that both brings details out of something while terrifying you with the sum total of them. It's the light you see from the darkest fairies, the glow around them that replaces the golden, summery haze of their counterparts.

That light, that darkest radiance, filled the door and spilled into the room. The guards all took a step back; Koschei took two and squeaked like a toddler. Fear and cold came in with the woman who stepped through the door. "So this is where you are hiding," she purred in a tone of such menace that I felt cold sweat break out along my spine, and I wasn't even the one she was talking to.

I'd wrought a hell of a Veil, but it wasn't just that. It was the way she spoke, the way she moved, the way she wore it. Sophie stepped into that room and she was Ekaterina Yegorov, an unknown supernatural power, a thing both beautiful and terrible, worthy of Tolkien's every written word.

"Hiding -" Koschei had to clear his throat before he could continue. "Hiding is such a strong accusation, my good lady."

She merely glided in, glancing disdainfully at the guards, who backed away nervously. "Why are you in the dark?" she demanded, flicked her fingers. On cue, the lights in the room -and only in the room- came back to bright and beautiful life.

No one there could make sense of her. The guards didn't even dare look at her directly. Koschei was still trying to figure out what she was; without that knowledge he couldn't shape a defense, a counter. "Hiding," she repeated. "Do you think disappearing will save you? After you tried to kill us all? The vampire down there is already offering a blood price on your head." She smiled. "Perhaps it will do tricks and tell prophecies. A man's head is so much more useful when separated from the body."

"My body is quite useful to me, madam, and I am rather fond of it," he declared tightly.

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you stole Batra's pet and cheated the Dredgers. I am becoming hard-pressed to think of someone you have not upset in this house."

"You," he replied without missing a beat.

She stared at him for a brief moment… and then laughed, soft and rich and deadly. "Me," she agreed in a tiger's sated purr. "Though I am no more pleased about that trick with the Witchwell than anyone else."

"I swear on my heart, madam, that was not my doing."

"Whose, then?" She tipped her chin disdainfully in my direction. "His?" When Koschei opened his mouth she added. "Do not lie to me, wizard. You hang from a very thin thread as it is."

"No," Koschei admitted, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes that it cost him to do so. "Though that is what I mean to tell the rest of the gathering. But my people have reported that it is very likely the Prince of Thieves is inside the house."

She scoffed elegantly. "Seeking what? Fascinating as all the oddities here are, that is all they are. Oddities. Only the portrait would be worth anything to a mortal, and he would not be able to tell it apart from the fakes any more than you can."

"I believe she is in cahoots with Dresden."

"She? The Prince of Thieves is a woman?" The unknown power facing Koschei mulled on that, seemingly the only thing he'd said that had surprised her, and smiled minutely. "Well, finally the job goes to someone worth the title. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Dresden put a marker on the portrait. A childish scrawl. I believe she's using it, he's empowered her to detect it in some fashion."

"Then use it yourself."

Koschei scowled at me and I grinned the biggest grin I could. "He can't. He tried, and then he realized that he couldn't keep it under wraps because I made it in a hurry and it's sloppy as hell, bleeding power everywhere. Everyone downstairs would sniff it out along with him if he kept it active." There were times when not having a fine touch with magic could come in so handy. "You think he's got a target painted on his back right now? That portrait's gonna be a neon arrow pointed at his head no matter where he goes with it."

She blew out an exasperated breath. "I do not care to wait until you are in pieces or in possession of the portrait, one or the other," she declared archly. "I need access to the gate it hides, and it is a critical matter."

"I am afraid, madam -"

"You should be." She stepped into his space and glowered briefly. "Send your men to bring all the portraits here. You have the foremost Sokolov expert in the room, you have angered a very powerful creature to get her here. Use her, be done with her and start soothing some tempers by handing back what things you can give back. Or do you expect the Prince of Thieves can steal a portrait that size while you're in the same room with it?"

"Even if I did, I could not open the gate for you!" he protested. "I have been unable to recover the key -"

"Oh, the key Vanya promised you?" she interrupted him sweetly, reaching down her cleavage and pulling out the platinum key. "This key?"

Koschei's mouth worked soundlessly a few times. He surged forward but she'd already tucked the key back under the folds of the dress, and she cocked a single brow at him.

He stopped.

She stepped forward, closer, until she could reach out and brush the lapels of the Blackbird's old-fashioned coat. Until the Rosalind diamond just barely brushed the fine black fabric. He went so pale he looked like a fresh corpse. "Have your men gather the portraits. I do not care where. You should not care where, as long as you have her." She nodded toward Jessamine. "I must have access to that gate before sunrise. After that, I do not care what you do, here or anywhere else. I do not care how you deal with your guests, or how they deal with you. I have one care, wizard. It is not a hard one to indulge, not given what I am willing to pay for it, yes?"

She stepped away then, and I saw Koschei reel, as did most people who were ever on the receiving end of Sophie Deveraux's talents.

Someone knocked on the door again. "Oh, that is for me," she told the guards cheerfully, and flicked her fingers at them. "Well, open it."

They obeyed before Koschei could say anything; that's the way with the sort of thug the Russian wizard preferred: not too bright, really good at violence, nearly indestructible but very much keyed to instinctively respond to the authority of the biggest power in the room.

I caught my breath. Parker stepped in, her hands laced over her head, angry and stone-faced, dressed all in skin-tight black. Just behind her, gun leveled at the base of her skull, Fedorov chivvied the thief into the room. "Kate, are you - ah, you did find him," he declared casually.

This was not the plan. None of it was part of any of the plans Ford had explained to me. I was feeling the loss of the ear-clip keenly; the only reason I could tell this was still a plan of some sort was that no one who should be was actually upset.

"Iggy!" Jessamin cried out, lunging out of her chair. One of the guards slammed her back on it none too gently.

"Hey!" Parker surged forward.

"No," the third woman in the room purred, and the thief went down like a puppet with her strings cut.

Ok, so yes, it was a plan of some sort, one I didn't know about, but I still tried to launch myself to my feet all the same. I nearly took the chair down to the floor with me.

Fedorov tipped his gun back, examined Parker, and grinned a little as he holstered it. "Show-off."

"Flatterer," she replied.

Fedorov and one of the guards brought Parker to another chair. They frisked her, found nothing beyond her phone and the non-working earbud in a pocket. "Hands in front," Koschei said when someone broke out the zip ties. "Where we can see them. One should never bind a thief's hands out of sight." He looked daunted and, looking at from his point of view, I couldn't blame him; here was a wizard as deeply attuned to the currents of magic all around him as any I'd ever met. It took that particular awareness to be able to pull off all of the magic I'd seen him work. But he wouldn't have seen anything from miss Ekaterina Yegorov. Not a breath, not a whisper, not a sigh of magic, not one single detectable little thread of energy. She'd spoken one word and the Prince of Thieves had gone down, just like that. The only possible conclusion one could draw was that she was operating way, way out of his league, a house on fire compared to his little candle.

"Thief?" Jessamine squeaked.

"Long story," Parker mumbled.

"Is Isabelle even your real name?" the young curator cried out in despair.

I saw Parker's face crumple with very real hurt. There was crap-all I could do at the moment to help her, and it made my heart hurt just as much, so I did the only thing I could - I stuck to the plan and started laughing. It's not hard; I've done my share of it when staring death or worse in the face. I knew the sound of it, I knew where it came from. I had to force it a little at the beginning, but once it got going it flowed naturally out, along with all the pain and the anger.

"What," Koschei gritted out, "are you laughing at, Dresden?"

"You," I admitted. "You and your best laid plans. You need her," I tipped my head at Jessamine, "to cooperate. The only way you're gonna get that is if you threaten her friend, so you need her," I tipped my head at Parker. "And since she's not about to tell you where the painting actually is, you need me." I beamed at him. "Ain't life a bitch. Just when you thought you finally got to kill someone."

"The night is young," the Russian wizard hissed at me.

"Maybe. But three people already found you, all cozy up here with me. How long until one of Batra's dryads sniffs you out? Or Ying Ying? I'm surprised the Dredgers aren't here already. How many guards you got willing to tangle with Mister Act and his people?" Every word was a blow that Koschei couldn't dodge, couldn't block, couldn't defend against. He'd been left primed for it, and I could only hope I was helping the plan, not hindering it.

"Mister Stone," the Blackbird said at last. "Get your people together and round up all the portraits. Bring them to the boat-house."

Stone did a nearly-visible head count before turning to his boss, his tone dubious. "All of them, sir?"

Koschei paused; his own head count was a little less obvious. "Well, the two in the main room are fakes, those can stay behind. And bring the wizard, I do not trust him out of sight." He clamped a hand on Jessamine's arm and dragged her up, his tone going to utter cordiality. "Mister Fedorov, could I possibly impose on you to bring the young lady with you?" He tipped his head at Parker. "We will further tie her up if you believe it will help."

"What's there is enough," the Russian enforcer declared blithely, moving over to Parker and tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of laundry. "I trust the lady whose protection I'm under." He grinned winningly at said lady, who beamed at him.

Stone, having finished instructing the rest of his people, moved over to me, closed a hand on the back of the chair and picked it up, with me in it. I knew instantly he was going to be a severe problem down the line; strength is not an uncommon attribute in Nevernever thugs, but Stone hadn't even paused to take a breath or brace himself. He'd simply done as he was told. I looked more closely at him, since I was being given the chance, looking for confirmation; I was pretty sure his clothes weren't painted on, but he hadn't been so close to me until that moment.

The clothes were real, well fitted, custom-made - not surprising, the man was too big to fit in anything off the rack. It was as he shifted to wrap his free arm around me so I couldn't jostle out of the chair that his sleeve hiked up, just a bit. Just enough for me to see that there were no wrinkles where his wrist was bending, no hair, no definition to his knuckles. His nails were engraved - they looked real from afar, but I was less than a foot away.

Well, crap. I started running down the list of any magic I knew that could scratch a golem, let alone take one down, as we left the room and moved through the darkened hallways, led by Koschei's pale light spell. It was a really short list and I didn't have any angelic swords at hand or dragon's blood on tap.

"Let's keep in mind I need to breathe, Stone, alright?" I told him when his arm tightened a little too much over my sore ribs.

"Let us keep in mind that I do not care, wizard," he replied indifferently, considering the chair and tossing it carelessly aside in favor of throwing me over his shoulder, like Fedorov was carrying Parker, except he hung me with my head facing his chest.

"Gosh, who spit in your cornflakes? Is Koschei holding your keystone hostage or something?"

The golem didn't hesitate. "My keystone is my own. The cornflakes, you can keep."

"Oh, hey! I didn't think golems had a sense of humor."

"Lacking one yourself, I see how you would not recognize one."

I wasn't just talking to get him to talk at that point, I was honestly astonished. "You're old."

He did glance down at me at that, as if detecting the honesty of emotion in my voice, and why wouldn't he? I'd never even heard of a golem capable of independent action, or thought. To have one that also had a sense of wit and levity was mind-boggling. "Age and craftsmanship," he admitted.

"And you waste it all working for him."

"I enjoy service. I do not see the point of ethics or morals. The first is for everyone. The others are mortal fripperies."

I wasn't going to win that argument, not with a golem. "But, that aside, why? Why the Blackbird?"

"He promised I would be challenged." The golem looked down at me once more, then ahead once again. "And I have been."

We got out of the mansion with no one the wiser, though it sounded like the scuffle that had started in the main room had spilled over past the bar and into the dinning room. There were just too many disparate powers gathered all together in a single place; most of the time there was no violence between them because their interests didn't cross paths, and if the auction had gone along as the Dredgers had planned, they never would have. But Koschei and his games had made them all linger. The Blackbird had no one to blame but himself for the mess that he'd brewed.

Hanging there, over a shoulder as broad and solid as a rock, I came to an abrupt realization: I'd been there before. Many times, actually. I was either famous or infamous, depending on who you ask, for throwing myself off the deep end and into the thick of my enemies, and hoping I could wade back out. Most of the time I'd managed, but I usually limped out exhausted, bloody and battered, and there were losses, in friendship, in love, in trust, that were so great they were injuries in their own right.

Koschei was a power that should have left me in that kind of shape. Hell, that roomful of people back at the mansion would've probably loved to take me apart one piece at a time. I had no idea what sort of relationship the Jade and Red Courts had, but I'd never met a vampire that would've passed up the opportunity to get a little debt owed to them from another vamp, and I know the fairy twins would have loved to have me on a leash, because that was just a thing with every fairy in my life barring one.

But there I was. Barring the fact I was hogtied, or that Koschei had taken most of my tools away, I was literally brimming with power, relatively in one piece, and what injuries I did have had been tended to. I still had two aces up my sleeve, three if you counted my pendant, which had come clutch in so many occasions that I really ought to start putting it at the top of the list.

I was as good for the fight as it got, and I had the Leverage people to thank for it. For the time to prep, for the research, for the tools, but above all for covering the bases I couldn't. Good as I was at fighting magic with magic, there was still only one of me. With Leverage, it didn't matter if the leshy came at me or someone tried to rob me or if I couldn't make sense of the puzzle pieces, or if they were all to be found in the electronic ether. These people had a phalanx formation that they'd refined to perfection, and they'd made me part of it without missing a step. It felt both nice and terrifying. Imagine what I'd be able to do with a team like them backing me up. Imagine what they could pull off with a wizard on their corner.

But I also knew it was not a tenable situation. It wasn't just Hardison; we were actually working together just fine, him and me. The language and the tools might be different, but we were both doing basically the same job. It was Ford, who try as he might still couldn't quite get to the believing part. It was Sophie, who thought she needed magic to pull off a grift when really, she didn't. It was Eliot, going up against a golem. It was all of them, running into a Burning Witchwell if I'd arrived in Boston a day late.

It was Boston, burning me to cinders and brushing me off her hands without a second thought. A city can't help what it is. I was Chicago's wizard, I knew my city, its moods, its weather, its seasons, the things about it that empowered me, strengthened me. Did Boston deserve a wizard of its own? Absolutely. It had to be someone better than me at self-control. Swinging power like I did in Boston would get me killed sooner rather than later, and it wouldn't even take a bad guy.

I heard the sound of the surf and became aware of the nearby press of the North Atlantic. I'd expected it to be a grounding influence, like Lake Michigan, but instead it seethed with dormant, subtle layers of power, restive and waiting. Then we were in the boat-house, an elegant single-story house done in that marine kitschy style that says an interior designer got paid very well and no one actually lived in the premises. The open wrap-around porch surrounded two sides of the boat-house, reaching for the stirring surf. Off to one side a dock had been partially dug out, lined with rip-rap and attached to the boat-house like an oversized closed garage. There were two yachts docked there, and an assortment of smaller craft pinned against the walls.

Fedorov automatically tried to flip on the light switches by the door, but nothing happened. A murmur and a gesture from Sophie, and the lights were on.

"You really must tell me how you are doing that." Koschei smiled at her as he walked in, dismissing his own light spell and clapping his hands so every door in the boat-house swung open.

"I asked the little voice in my head for help," she told him with a graceful gesture.

He gave her a strained, polite little chuckle. "Mister Stone, take the rest of our guests to the boat-house. If they give you any trouble, drown them a little."

"Hey!" Jessamine protested.

"Oh, no, not you, my dear," Koschei had clamped his hand around one of her arms, and dragged her back to him none too gently. "The drowning bit is just for Dresden and the princess."

"How do you even drown someone just a little?" Parker muttered.

"Not the question to be asking present company," I replied as Stone took a few steps onto the docks, making them groan with his weight, and threw me down onto the boards roughly. I rolled onto my good shoulder to try and protect myself, and Parker got tossed right on top of me, driving the rest of my breath out.

I felt her brush her hands against mine and suddenly the mage-knot binding the thumb and index of my good hand was gone; I felt her press something familiar against my palm before Stone put his foot against her side and shoved her off to one side.

Seriously, HOW?!

I slid my wand up my sleeve, closed my good hand into a fist over my shield bracelet and decided not to question it. Magic is magic.

"Why?" She countered immediately.

"Because mister Stone might actually oblige with a demonstration, and he doesn't need to breathe."

Parker looked up. The golem looked implacably down. "Oh." She scooted to sit next to me as I dragged myself up, and we both leaned against one another. "He's not really gonna hurt Jess, is he?"

"No, he needs her. He may bluff her, he may scare her, but it doesn't profit him to hurt her. He might hurt you to scare her, though."

Fedorov chuckled a little. "The wizard is not being fully truthful with you."

Parker looked up at me, then at him, then at me again. "Harry?"

I hadn't wanted to say it, but the Russian wasn't leaving me a choice. "He might also hurt you to get to me," I had to admit. "Because the only one who knows where the original is, if Stone's people can't find it, is you. And if you won't tell him -" she scoffed pointedly "- the only one who can safely locate it by the marker on it is me."

She frowned. She looked up at Stone. "What if I tell you where it is?"

"Parker!"

"That would -" the golem began.

I kicked at Stone's shin. It was a moot effort; I knew it and he knew it. I might as well be kicking a piece of concrete. Stone bent down, picked me up by the throat, and let me hang there, unable to breathe and my feet a good few inches off the dock, while he continued speaking in the same calm tone. "That would make matters go faster."

"Faster meaning you and Dresden will die quicker," Fedorov pointed casually.

"But he'll let Jess go?"

I kicked at her. I was two lengths of my leg too far, but dammit, Parker!

"Untrue." Stone leveled an even gaze on Fedorov, then shook me a little, until starbursts of blackness began to swim in front of my eyes, the rest of me tingling unpleasantly. Ok, ok, no more kicking. "It profits him immensely to return miss Lochlin to mister Batra unharmed. It profits him reasonably to have the Prince of Thieves, you, owe him a life-debt." He turned to look at me. "The wizard, he almost certainly will kill."

"No! You go tell him I will tell him where the original is, but he's got to let us all go, Jess and Harry and me! All of us!"

Fedorov and Stone crossed a look. The Russian enforcer looked as dubious as he was amused.

"Why are you here?" the golem suddenly asked Fedorov.

The Russian aimed a thumb at the inside of the boat-house. " The lady promised me an interesting night. My safety was guaranteed." The boards where we were all standing creaked and groaned once again, and Fedorov looked down, then up at Stone with open curiosity. "Should I worry her?"

The world was beginning to blur into colors without shape when Stone let my feet touch the ground again. "Mind yourself, wizard," he warned me, and shoved me down. I went sprawling on my back, landing on my zip-tied hands with all of my weight. Stone bent down and picked up Parker by the front of her skin-tight black sweater, and threw her over a shoulder.

"Hey!"

"Mind the wizard, please," the golem told Fedorov. "He has a bodyguard and no one seems to be able to tell me where he's gone off to." When the Russian gestured agreeably, Stone went into the house.

I laid there for a long moment, examining my circumstances, considering my options and mostly just getting my breath back. "You could've let me lie to her," I told Fedorov.

"I could," he admitted. "But I am coming to realize a lie of kindness is no better than any other lie."

"I'm not her uncle."

He snorted in humorless amusement. "No. But you are her friend. Respect what she has given you."

I had no good answer to that, because he was right. Every time I hid something from the people around me, every time I lied or kept secrets, my friends, the people I cared about, those who depended on me, ended up in trouble, or hurt, or worse. And there was a lot worse in my world that hurt or dead. So I just laid there, staring up at the beams of the open ceiling in the boat-house, with nets keeping floats and boards and kayaks and paddles safe.

The door to the boat-house opened again and Koschei stalked out, dragging Jessamine with him. Behind him came Stone and Parker, the golem stepping carefully on the boards of the dock. trying to keep the complaining from the wood to a minimum, not that it helped. Behind them all came the beautiful, deadly woman in the indigo dress, who moved immediately to Fedorov's side. The wizard was back to his tooth-rottingly cheerful self. "It is a promise easily given, easily kept," he assured Parker. "Give me the original, prove that it is the original, and all three of you can leave safe and sound at once."

"Parker, it's a tr-"

Koschei turned and whipped a hand at me, and his power choked the voice right out of my throat. It didn't matter, she was far too quick for it. "What does he mean it's a trap?"

"How would I know?" Koschei replied archly. "You have what you asked for, after all, no?" He spread his arms. "I am being very generous, all things considered. You have stolen from me, after all. I could just pry the knowledge out of your head and be done with it."

I saw her chew restlessly on her lip, but without the ear bud I didn't know if there was an ongoing plan, if she was winging things, if everything was going to hell in a handbasket. Jessamine looked both frightened and mutinous, but she wasn't making a peep.

"You'll let all three of us go. You won't do anything to stop us, or to hurt us."

"On my power I swear it. Provided you deliver the correct portrait to me."

"And you won't have anyone else stop us or hurt us, either, like him, or them." She gestured at Stone, then glowered at the Russian mobster and his companion.

"Ah, clever princess," Koschei smiled. "They will not." He glanced back. "I'm not even entirely sure while the young prince is still here."

"We're still willing to put a bid on the portrait," Fedorov assured him mildly, tucking his hands in his pockets. "Unless you have decided not to sell?"

"Oh, no, no, I prefer to keep that portrait as far away from my person as possible."

I wanted to yell. I wanted to scream the obvious trap at her. I wanted to launch myself at Koschei and shake that smarmy, condescending smirk off his face. But he had Jessamine, Stone had Parker, and I was choking on black, poisonous magic. Not to mention I had every reason to believe this was still part of Ford's plan, whatever that plan might be, but without my ear clip or Parker's bud I had no way of knowing if we'd gone off the rails half a dozen death threats back. I was about ready to sell my soul, or at least a kidney, for any information.

That was when Nate Ford stepped out of one of the yachts and hopped lightly down onto the dock, and I realized I hadn't been worried enough before. "Well, you're in luck," he said mildly, a slightly rumpled, harmless-looking man. "Because it's not even on the grounds anymore."

THIRTY SIX

You ever get that feeling in the pit of your stomach, when you thought you knew the shape of your life, the world and everything else, and then one little thing goes out of whack and the entire house of cards comes tumbling down?

It felt a little like that, watching Ford come up on us. Though from the look on Koschei's face, he was feeling a whole lot more of it. "You." For a moment I wished I could pack all the conflicting emotions the Russian wizard put into the one tiny word, but then again that would mean I'd fucked up nearly as badly as he had and you know what? I was good.

"Me," Ford agreed, walking up calmly. "The sensible one, you said."

"I am allowed an occasional lapse in judgement." Koschei was trying hard to stick to that smarmy avuncular cheer but it was cracking hard at the seams.

"Are you? 'Cuz you've piled up, uh, a number of lapses tonight -"

"Where is my painting?"

"A painting," Ford replied, "is just about any sort of paint you put on a medium. Canvas, paper, wood. A portrait is specifically a painting of a person, or persons."

"I am aware of the difference," Koschei ground out.

"Are you?" Nate nodded politely at Fedorov and Sophie. They both nodded back minutely. He gave me a very level look where I was, still sprawled on the boards of the dock. He didn't even glance at Parker, but his eyes lingered on Jessamine. It struck me then: the curator was the only person there not in the con who could link Sophie to the rest of us. Ford was no longer gambling on her being innocent of what was going on; he was outright betting she'd help.

"Sir, I would prefer to believe you sensible a little bit longer," Koschei ground out. "I want my painting back or I will have to start turning you and your allies," he gestured at Parker and me, "inside out as creatively as I can."

The mastermind made vague appeasing gestures. "Ok, ok, no need to get violent. Alright. So, uh." Ford paused to think for a moment; the man's showmanship was flawless and I was absolutely taking notes. "Let's do it this way: you give me proof that you still have Grandmother lined up and ready to go into her cage - uh, your cage. And I give you the portrait."

The silence turned into a nearly solid thing, broken only by the surf outside and the gentle lapping of the waves against the pillars of the dock. "She," Koschei's voice had turned hard and dark. I felt that finally something of the real Blackbird, the creature behind the fairy tales, the real monster, was coming to the surface, poisonous and deadly, "is ready."

"Is she?" Ford said with a deceptive apathy that was nothing but ice under the thinnest of veneers.

Koschei stared at Ford. Ford stared at the water. The Blackbird suddenly shoved Jessamine at Stone and gestured to the surf, drawing up a perfect, thin sheet of motionless water. He spun his hands in a circle, partitioning off a piece the size of an ornamental mirror. He murmured in Russian, then spoke sharply, making the water ripple.

He'd summoned a perfect scrying circle while still keeping me gagged. And he hadn't even hesitated, or paused to gather up his strength or focus his will. I had to keep reminding myself that, no matter what happened, if it came to a throwdown with Koschei he'd be punching down, and I'd need every counter I'd prepared for it.

Koschei spoke twice more, sharper and sharper each time.

Ford rubbed idly at his cheek.

Koschei threw the mastermind a brief, and entirely murderous, glare, passed his hand over the rippling surface, stilling it again before he called out once more. This time, the rough voice of a leshy answered him. Koschei and the leshy spoke in Russian, the wizard's tone growing angrier the longer the conversation went on. In the end he let out a furious yell and the water went flying in every direction when he threw his hands out in a fury. "What," he hissed at Ford, "have you done."

Ford seemed to ponder that question carefully. "You're going to have to be more specific. Last I checked you had like seven plans going off tonight, and I only accounted for four of them. You know, the ones I was interested in." He shrugged indifferently.

"Who are you?"

"I -"

"WHERE IS SHE?!"

The lights flickered and faltered, the glass on the nearby windows of the boat-house's wraparound porch rattled. The yachts rocked uneasily in their moorings. Willing to find any port in a storm, Jessamine pressed a little closer to Stone, who looked down in mild surprise. Fedorov shifted to put himself between everyone else and his companion.

I tightened my grip on my wand. When Stone had thrown me down, all of my weight and all of the golem's momentum had come crashing down on the zip tie with which I'd been restrained. It had snapped. I was loose except for the wizard's peace-knot on the thumb and index of my bad hand.

"She's right here," Ford declared mildly. "I mean, she's been here all along. I thought you'd - well, she was your teacher for centuries, probably more depending on who you ask," Nate sounded politely disbelieving, and vaguely embarrassed, as if Koschei had grabbed the wrong fork at a fancy dinner and were trying to butter toast with it. "You haven't figured it out yet?"

Slowly, unwillingly, the poison green gaze turned to the only woman on the docks that he could not account for.

Ekaterina Yegorov laid a gentle hand on Fedorov's shoulder and spoke in soft Russian, and very much not with Sophie's voice. He dipped his head courteously and stepped back and for the first time in who knew so many centuries master and apprentice faced each other off.

[eloisemeadows]

i'm begging you please to come home

Song/Skeleton: Cecilia

Name: Eloise Meadows

FC: Sophie Skelton

Age: 32

Birthday: December 24

Gender & Pronouns: Cis-woman, she/her

Sexual & Romantic Orientation: Heteroromantic & heterosexual

Occupation: Receptionist/Guest Services for the Birch Bay Travelodge

Neighbourhood: Born and raised in Birch Bay, currently residing in a tiny apartment in Willowdale

Positive Personality Trait(s): Warm, friendly, idealistic, independent, supportive

Negative Personality Trait(s): Stubborn, people-pleasing, emotionally-driven and oversensitive, envious, insecure

Extras: Here is a little baby playlist that is era-appropriate to set the vibe! Please Mister Postman - the Marvelettes Here Comes the Sun - the Beatles I Say a Little Prayer - Aretha Franklin Do You Believe in Magic - the Lovin’ Spoonful Chapel of Love - the Dixie Cups Wouldn’t It Be Nice - the Beach Boys I Can’t Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch) - Four Tops I Will Follow Him - Peggy March I Walk the Line - Johnny Cash Love Me Do - the Beatles Yesterday - the Beatles You Can’t Always Get What You Want - the Rolling Stones I Want to Hold Your Hand - the Beatles You Send Me - Aretha Franklin Put Your Head on My Shoulder - Paul Anka Fly Me To the Moon - Frank Sinatra Then He Kissed Me - the Crystals All You Need is Love - the Beatles Blackbird - the Beatles A Sunday Kind of Love - Etta James If I Can Dream - Elvis Presley This Magic Moment - the Drifters Hold Me Tight - the Beatles Oh!Darling - the Beatles If I Fell - the Beatles Across the Universe - the Beatles And some songs that are not era-appropriate but fit the vibe: Mirrorball - Taylor Swift The Archer - Taylor Swift The Man - Taylor Swift The Lakes - Taylor Swift Lavender Haze - Taylor Swift Tied Together with a Smile - Taylor Swift Mine - Taylor Swift (...you might be sensing a pattern here) She Used to be Mine - Sara Bareilles Fight Song - Rachel Platten Better Place - Rachel Platten Sunlight - Hozier I Can’t Breathe - Bea Miller Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol Waking up Slow - Gabrielle Aplin Grace - Kate Havnevik Stand in the Rain - Superchick Wildflowers - Tom Petty Dancing Queen - ABBA (1976 so CLOSE) Dandelions - Ruth B. Don’t You Worry Child - Swedish House Mafia (though I prefer the Madilyn Bailey cover) And a pinboard! https://www.pinterest.com/rachaelredridinghood/heavens-got-a-plan-for-you/ BIOGRAPHYtw: mentions of religion/religious upbringing (not detailed, just mentions), gender roles, war

In a home where she wanted for nothing, she somehow wanted for everything she did not have. From a young age, Eloise craved the great wide somewhere that only existed in the depths of her imagination. Eloise was born and raised into the warm embrace of what was the picturesque family: a dutiful father who worked hard to support their family, a doting mother who was there for every moment of every day of Eloise’s childhood, and Eloise was the final piece to the puzzle that was their white picket fence life. Her childhood was marked by dusty wooden pews on Sundays with lace gloves and stiff-skirts, hot humid days spent in her mother’s ever-so-loved-and-tended-to garden, brunches and tea parties with her mother’s friends at least once a week and ever-important trips to the library to add to the stacks of books in her room.  While her upbringing was steeped in the belief that her purpose was to become the image of her mother, an adoring wife and mother tending her own family and her own garden with her own brunches, the books she read were something of a guiding light that showed her another way. Fairy-tales, adventures and stories of the great and fantastical had Eloise dreaming of life outside of what she had been raised to believe was proper and expected, though those dreams were generally squashed just as soon as they came to light; more time in the garden, more time spent with her mother and her friends, that was what she needed. Less books would do her good.

In truth, it was more her father that was to blame for her ambitions with the example that he set. His influence on his daughter was strong, and Eloise was always over-interested in his work at the hospital. His care and compassion for the people of their town ran deep and left a defining mark on her young mind. An interest in medicine sparked when Eloise was hardly in double-digits, and despite her father’s appreciation for his daughter’s interest in his work, her parents doubled down on their insistence that Eloise live a life of domesticity. Her father worked hard so that his wife and daughter would not have to, and that was the future he wanted for his daughter.

Eloise kept those dreams on the backburner, learning that it was easier to keep those thoughts to herself than to bring it up again. Her aspirations and dreams fell on deaf ears, and it was better to stay quiet than have that fire extinguished time and time again. She focused on school, still spending her time with her nose pressed into books at every available turn. In every way, it appeared that she had reluctantly conformed to her parents’ wishes, even if she still yearned to follow in her father’s footsteps. It was easier to go with the current than against it, even if it left Eloise feeling like her future wasn’t her own.

It was hard, trying to find purpose when her path in life felt so rigid and out of reach from what she wanted. He made it easier, giving Eloise something to focus on that wasn’t doom and gloom or frustration. He made her smile, and at first that was enough; soon, she realized that he and he alone could make her heart pound right out of her chest in a way she had only read about, and it was twice as meaningful because she had chosen him. Naturally, her parents didn’t approve, but that was something she chose to ignore. Truthfully, it gave her just the slightest bit of satisfaction. She’d yielded in so many other ways, but in this way she would not.

Her parents were displeased when she began to work for the Travelodge shortly after graduating from high school, but Eloise found joy in being able to provide for herself even in just a part-time manner. Their opinions were still ringing loud and clear like church bells on Sunday: it was temporary, they insisted, as she’d marry and have a family of her own soon and then she’d be able to stay at home and live the life they dreamed. Of course, every time she brought up marriage or engagement or anything long-term with the man she’d chosen, she was met with objections. He did not fit the bill they’d ordered, and in their view was just as temporary as her job.

Even with the sense of fulfillment from her part-time gig and the happy hours spent with who she believed to be her one true love (just like in those fairytales, all those years ago), she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something missing. The call towards medicine was still so strong, though she’d never even applied to college. She knew her parents would never approve, and despite her age she still sought their approval. She ached and longer for her life to mean something and knew she would never find purpose from behind a service desk, or with a stupid cross-stitch or book in hand on a porch swing.

And then came the war, and the draft. And then he was gone, and what meaning she’d found for herself in life felt as though it was slipping through her fingers. Time to break out those old and well-worn rosary beads, keep them in her pocket, taking time to finger through them during quiet moments with the thought of his quick and safe return the only thing on her mind. Eloise missed him in a physical way that she could not escape, and adjusting to contact only through letters was strange and took more time than she liked to admit. Work was a welcome distraction, though even that couldn’t help her thoughts from wandering: what would happen if she lost him? Who would she even be if she lost him? Best not to think about it, but she’d never been good at keeping her thoughts in line with what was best for her. Best to put her energy into those letters, writing her heart onto the paper to send away to him. Her heart was always safest with him, after all, even in a warzone. So she’d pour it all out for him, bleeding onto the paper along with the lipstick marks and a few spritzes of the perfume he’d always liked best.

They’d be married when he got back, they’d decided. There was no reason to wait any longer, even if her parents disapproved. Hell, maybe she’d finally mail those college applications away finally and take a dive at two dreams.

If he made it back. When.

[anneisbusy]

Ode to a building

Tate Britain, Millbank

Oh momentous steps

Angled steeply

Stone weathered and war-worn

Tell of innumerable visits.

Much has this building seen.

Steps elevated to a higher plane

Of knowledge, thought, ideas

Even escape from the humdrum.

A revolving door, like a hand wave,

Beckoning in circular movement,

But better hurry for your spot!

Some prefer to take the regular door

Of a simpler welcome.

Scalloped staircase ahead,

a city monument decorated

With pattern of the sea, a

Juxtaposition of mind such as

the one we have come to here to experience,

A jolting of mind, to shake us from ourselves.

The black and white, so determined a contrast

Like a blackbird and dove entwining,

Fledgling the sides

Where people go by, making

Their own flight

To a cup of tea, a slice of cake.

Past the staircase a grand hallway lies ahead

Huge Roman pillars from floor to ceiling

So gargantuan, I feel small but not afraid.

The hallway invites and engulfs me,

Makes me not see the ordinariness

Of the security guard and the reception.

Light denies this hall, but it is still alight,

Sometimes with installations,

Sometimes nothing, just a passage

For a continual stream of people

To make this entry of wonder.

What to see?

On either side of this hall

The doors swing open and shut

Like a book quietly explored

And then set aside.

Little sound is heard, except a gentle

Compression/decompression of air

As doors open and seal back silently

Keeping a precious secret of what lies within,

So as not to disturb the serenity

Of eye and mind connecting silently

To the brain and creativity of another human.

It is a spiritual experience.

There is a painting on the wall,

There is a sculpture of a head like something from Star Wars,

There is a retro TV screen showing a video

Of two men in bowler hats wandering around

A tree. The audio playing bird song.

Art so strange yet so certain.

The older art is cloaked in red rooms,

Seeming to convey the warmth of familiarity

While the Modern is shrouded in white- stark and inviting an open clear blank mind.

The act of looking at art

Makes me thirsty and long to discuss

What we have seen. This need must be arrested

By traversing the scalloped stairs with

The black and white interlocking flocking pattern.

The room is full of sounds of clattering cups,

The metallic percussion of cutlery

Put on trays, addressing plates, returning orderly and clean to their mates.

We wander past the gems on view, shuffling along

Afraid to miss anything, like the beautiful deep red rhubarb tart,

The same way we moved slowly amongst the

Rich colours of the Pre-Raphaelite room.

We take our place in a little portico

Overlooking the octagon

The place where our visit began.

We look up to the domed skylight, illuminated,

Looking heavenward while our tastebuds enjoy.

We feel refreshed and elevated

because of the existence of this place.

[ukworktops]

Halloween Living Room Decorations for this Halloween

work-tops.com

LIVING ROOM 4 minute read

Halloween Living room Decorations is more than just a day for trick-or-treating, candy, and costume parties for children. It's a fun way to welcome fall by being crazy and welcoming chill vibes into our homes. So, why only decorate the front porch and leave the rest of the areas bare? There are several things you can do to make your living room feel festive.

Best Halloween Living Room Decor Ideas

Activate Exciting Colours

Colours can bring life to any space, and when it comes to Halloween, our all-time favourite shade to cast the spell all over is bloody red. No, we are not suggesting that you paint your walls red; instead, spruce up your living room with creepy candles, flowers, garlands, bouquets, painted pumpkins, and lights to create a red ambiance.

Pillows and Cushion Covers

Halloween-themed cushion covers for your couch's throw pillows can liven up the living room for Halloween. You can make your own spooky covers or consider purchasing them from a store or online. Halloween pillows and cushion covers complete the look of indoor decoration.

Include a Pumpkin Patch

On Halloween, pumpkins can be scattered throughout the living room to add a festive touch. Alternative pumpkins made of felt, fabric, wood, and other materials can also be used. Otherwise, you can use real ones and paint them, decorate them with glitter, or write inspirational/scary words on them.

Wall Decor

Living room walls are ideal for decorating with delightful yet creepy Halloween decorations. Use Halloween decorations such as garlands, banners, photo frames, and wall decals. The living room is commonly thought to be the best place in the house to display family photos. Replace family photos with spooky photos of a haunted house or Halloween artwork for Halloween.

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Amazing Halloween Decorations

Construct a Broomstick Pendant Light

You can design your kitchen island with lots of pumpkins, flowers, and scarry pots and use broomstick pendant lightening to bring the light and Halloween feel

Decorate Your Pumpkins

Instead of the traditional warm orange-y fall palette, choose pinks, peaches, and burgundies for your centrepiece. Then, using a neutral colour, paint your pumpkins.

Showcase an On-Theme Bouquet

If you're hosting a scary movie night, use some scary decor to bring the on-screen horror to life. A bouquet surrounded by pumpkins and a skull decanter for the table, as well as some flying paper bats for the walls, will serve.

Consider Mini Paper Lanterns

These mini lanterns made of black metallic paper and white vellum can be made quickly. Put battery-operated tea lights inside for a mysterious glow.

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Decorate Your Living Room Coffee Table:

Styling your coffee table for Halloween is simple; simply place whatever you want, keeping in mind the style of your living room. Choose colours that are in some way complementary to the rest of the space, and don't be too daring if you don't intend to make your coffee table the focal point of the room. Decide how many elements you'll use and how many you'll add - will you just add some to the existing ones or will you completely restyle the table for Halloween? And now you can add whatever you want - spiders, skulls, skeletons, dark candles, candle holders, antlers, black branches and blackbirds, moody floral arrangements - there are no rules.

Change Your Fireplace for Halloween with Natural Stones:

You can renovate your Fireplace with our wide range of limestone products that gives you unique texture and features. Make your Halloween colourful and stylish with these Halloween decors like garland, wreaths, sign, paper fans, a blackbird, and spiders that give you the Halloween feel decor all over your home.

Sardis Grey Dolomite Tiles for Halloween:

Sardis Grey Dolomite Tiles have a grey surface background with very faint white veins. These grey dolomite tiles are extremely durable and can be used in both residential and commercial settings.

Work-tops offers these tiles in both polished and matt finishes. Designing your Halloween decoration with Sardis Grey Dolomite Tiles will give you a special appearance when you hang scary photos on the wall.

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[thesunicarusfellfor]

Mortal of Gold - Part 3

(Yandere!C!Techno x GN!Shy!Reader x Yandere!C!Philza)

Anyone want my list of the characters as gods? There were a few characters that I couldn't think of like Ponk, so I just left them out. ANYWAY. Hi, how's it going? ALSO I CANT EDIT THIS DAMN POST AND THE SPELLING ERRORS ARE SO IRRITATING

Part 1 Part 2 TW: Mention of amnesia, memories being altered Send me a message via inbox if you wanna be added to a general or series tag list. Make sure to turn off anon, please. ------- “They weren’t born… A mortal?”

A light wind brushed over your features, causing you to give a small sigh and roll over onto your side in an attempt to block the light from hitting your lidded eyes. It was nice and quiet for once… “(Y/n)?” A distorted voice echoed softly, causing you to flinch a bit. You opened your eyes slightly to see a silky blackbird sitting on the sheets beside you, a few golden trinkets laying beside it. Upon seeing your eyes slide open, the creature hopped up onto its legs and began making soft cooing noises, “(Y/n)! (Y/n), you’re awake!” Glancing around at the surroundings you had been placed in, racking your mind for any sort of familiarity but failing to come up with anything at all, even who you were. You sat up, slowly brushing your fingers along your ombre silk clothing before putting your hands on the sheets below your body, frowning as you didn’t recognize the bed as yours. “Hello…” You murmured softly, reaching your hand out to the crow who eagerly jumped forward to nuzzle your hand. The feathers of the bird felt… Odd. They felt more like grabbing at misty fog, but with a light staticky cotton texture that caused a buzzing sensation on your fingertips, “I’m sorry, my memory… Seems to be a tad faulty… Could you tell me your name?” “I’m Chat, Dadza- er… Philza’s familiar! I was a gift from Mumza, oops... Kristen, the Goddess of Void and Death.” It chirped, its voice having multiple layers in your head, causing you to shake your head a slight bit, “No, they’re not married, only parental figures to the souls that pass on to the afterlife or those they saved sometime before they passed on… I believe they have more of a co-worker relationship.” You nodded slightly, pursing your lips at how the creature’s voice sounded in your mind. It was unsettling and caused shivers to crawl up and down your back, but at the same time, it was incredibly calming and had a soothing aura. How that worked, you had no clue whatsoever. Brushing off the unsettling voice of the bird, you decided to focus on the name that caused a light to go off in your head, “Alright… Philza… I think I remember that name…” “Yeah! Dadza- Eck… Sorry. Phil, he’s the God of Survival and Crows! He controls not only every crow in the mortal land, but he also controls whether or not someone will survive a situation. If there is no way that the mortal can survive, he will send a crow down and have them guide the soul of the mortal to him! Then he escorts them to Kristen! He has gained the name Angel of Death because he works for Mumza!” You decided not to question why the crow called Philza and Kristen Mumza and Dadza, knowing that you’d probably find out later, but by the sound of it Chat seemed to be multiple children, “Okay… Makes sense…” You mumbled slowly, nodding your head up and down. With a sigh you slowly brought your legs over to the side of the bed, only now becoming aware of how large the soft mattress was. Lowlands! (Hell) You could probably fit six people who were ten feet tall in it with room to roam! Pushing yourself off the bed, you also realized how high the beautiful bed was off the floor, Gods, whoever lived here was tall! Behind you, you heard a small chirp, and you saw Chat watching you curiously. With a small shrug, you decided to pick the familiar up and hold it in your cupped hands as you walked out the door, “Oooh! Dadza never carries us like this, and Technoblade does only when he’s about to yeet us out a window!” “Yeet?” You scowled in confusion as you walked through the arched doorway, your bare feet padding silently on the quartz flooring, “I'm scared to ask. Technoblade? Is he also a god of some things? He sounds familiar as well…” “That’s its word for throwing something. Well, it yells the word when they throw something or get thrown, so I assume it’s yelling in excitement,” A deep voice spoke from in front of you, causing you to gasp and lift your head from the crow. The telepathic chirping and squeaks from Chat in your mind quickly formed the name Technoblade, so… You had a feeling that your answer was on its way past his

lips, “I’m Technoblade, or Techno, the God of Blood and War. It’s… nice to see you finally awake…” He shifted awkwardly on his feet as you curiously studied him. His appearance could certainly be described as godly if anyone asked you. His long pink hair was mostly twisted and tied into a braid with bits of golden chain and a polished golden crown adorned with rubies, garnets and diamonds. Upon his pale skin, dozens of scars of varying sizes decorated his skin in different areas, but they were displayed in an almost proud manner. Almost. When he spoke, his dark pink eyes hidden behind cracked glasses searched your form for any sort of injury, “I’m… (Y/n)... I think. I don’t know if this bird is exactly trustworthy in its information… Do you know where I am?” Techno snorted as Chat gave an offended squawk at your statement, “That’s very fair, to be honest. You’re in the Tundra of the Upperlands, and this is my palace. No there is no snow, I believe the person who named this place has never looked into the name or word Tundra, but it’s been like this for too long to change it-” He paused for a moment as he noticed you looking extremely confused, “Ah. Right. Desert. Don’t worry about it.” “Oh… Okay…” You frowned at the tusked male for a moment before shaking your head, deciding not to question it much, “Now, uh… How did I get here, and why don’t I remember anything about myself? Or, about you and this Philza guy, I was told about.” You lifted Chat slightly toward Techno as a silent indication that Chat was the one who told you about Phil. “That’s uh… Phil’s field of expertise.” He rubbed the back of his head with his black-tipped fingers before adjusting his crown, “I don’t understand much of what happened, and Phil will tell you what you need to know that will keep you safe.” Hesitantly, he held his free hand out towards you making you realize that he was easily over seven and a half feet tall, “C’mon, I’ll take you to him and get you the answers you need.” His hand was extremely steady, you noticed as you stared down at it cautiously. Once you noticed that he didn’t seem to want to do you harm, you slowly shifted Chat into one hand and used your free hand to take the one extended to you, which you couldn’t help but notice, made Technoblade very happy, “Okay. Thank you.” The god held your hand in his calloused one for a few moments before beginning to lead you down the tan and white hallways that were turned a light golden hue from the rising sun. It was quite a long walk filled with a slightly uncomfortable silence, but you distracted yourself by looking around the palace curiously. It was obvious he was the God of War by how many swords hanging on walls and sets of armour he had placed on armour stands in the hallways. Eventually, he walked you through an archway that led into a wide-open room with multiple windows that had many crows perched on the windowsills, some chirping and singing some little tune in perfect unison while others shuffled around, seeming to do a little dance. You were quick to realize the whistling of one of the birds didn’t match up and noticed that it was coming from the man with the large white and green striped hat as well as massive black feathered wings dangling on his back, fluffing themselves up every so often. When you and Techno stepped in, the blackbirds started chirping loudly, losing the rhythm of the tune the winged man was whistling as Chat started telepathically squealing about… 2/4? Two out of four what? “Ah!” The hat-wearing male turned around and clasped his hands together upon seeing you standing up, “(Y/n), you’re awake. I was worried the injuries you sustained were enough to keep you out cold for a few more weeks. I’m glad to see I was wrong. I’m Philza, God of Survival and Crows, and I see you’ve met Chat and Techno. Pesky bird, I told it not to wake you...” You pursed your lips for a moment, analyzing the shorter god as the bird squealed out its protests. While he was shorter than Techno, he was certainly tall, standing roughly around six feet tall, his wingspan

probably double that for each wing! His blonde hair was long around his face but was pulled into a loose braid like Techno’s was, although instead of gold intertwined into his hair, it was silver. His outfit was made up of a loose green shirt and black pants, with a red heart-shaped pendant dangling off of a chain into the center of his chest. Why did that pendant… Look familiar? You slowly rose your hand up and clasped at the pendant around your neck, noticing how Philza smiled softly, “Technoblade… Said you could tell me why I can’t remember anything?” “You’re still wearing my gift, I see,” Philza gave a soft hum as Chat jumped from your hand and onto his shoulder, before gesturing for you and Techno to take a seat where he already had drinks and some form of cakes set out, but they certainly weren’t there when you came in. Upon seeing your confused blinking, he gave a soft laugh, “I’m a god, mate, magic is no difficult task for me, let alone creating some measly tea and desserts. Now, sit down and I will tell you everything…” - General - None Mortal of Gold -@generalalmond @binas-idea-vault @ohworm-writes

[starpros-sunshine]

Oh boy okay so (rubs hands)

A great way of getting into Eichis lore is to read the reminiscence stories they're a bit less daunting than the main story and easier to find to understand the main story of ! Era I recommend you watch the anime (the David production one) and then if you like him you can read Element or watch the element anime that came out last year but I recommend reading it and also some really good Eichi stories are jingle bells, milky way, checkmate (but you dont have to start with that one It's a Loooong story with a lot of monologues so i reccommend you read that if you really find yoirself liking him.)

Some other good Eichi stories are Diner Live, Tea Party and of course EP:Link if you like Eichi and have gone with the war era you should really read ep:link it's sooooooo good! And daydream!!! Important war era Eichi bit!!!!

For !! Era the major ones would be tempest, sanctuary (the SS saga in general but for Eichi sanctuary specifically) maybe Shangri-la and the fine climax. You don't really have to read them in a certain order that's not what I did at least but I do reccommend to go at least somewhat chronological. I'd start with the ! Era stories because they're not that heavy they're some good light Eichi literature you'll love him trust me he's The Best he is soooooooo funny and Sooooo witty and he has so many issues and I love him so much and then I'd read the war era stories because they are really really important to his character arc they're very important to Enstars in general but for Eichi daydream, Element, jingle bells, blackbird and ep:link (they're not all war era per se but they're really good)

His idol stories are also fun they're short and mostly silly and give a pretty nice look on the less serious sides of his character because really he's so silly funniest dude alive I would kill for him.

But generally speaking a good way to start that doesn't get too overwhelming is to just look at his cards in the wiki gallery because usually they have stories attached and if one strikes your fancy you should read it that's how I got into it and you can read them by going to the story link on the wiki and copy/pasting it into the way back machine I think august 2021 is when they all got last saved.

You can then work yourself up to !! Era it's only semi-chronological because it's not a linear story some of them are set before others even if they came out later it's a bit of a mess so I'd try not to get too stressed about that.

But trust me you'll love Eichi he is great he is such a great guy he loves so so so much and with so so so much passion and he may be sick a lot and spent a lot of his youth and his general life in a hospital but he's so. Augh. Guy that clings to life with all that he has he used to be really really bad mentally and his character arc is about learning to accept help and love from the people around you and that maybe you don't have to walk through life alone and he's so funny there's one of his idol stories where he pretends to be dead to scare Mao (read head with pink-ish hair) and it is so funny because thex genuinely are scared for a second and one time he pretended to get kidnapped to send his best friend on a wild goose chase and in the end it was all just a prank to get him to losen up and the same friend once let him help eith a manga and he was supposed to erase the pencil lines but he went over the lineart with the correction fluid thing on accident because of a misunderstood assignment and almost gave the guy a heart attack and in another story he just lets a bunch of his classmates come to the student council room and tells them to hunt each other for sport as a little game and he is so so petty too it is the funniest thing in the world imagine disabling all the elevators and letting a guy run up to the buildings rood which su multiple stories high may I add and waitimg there like a cartoon villain just because you personally dislike the guy for no apparent reasom beyond "well my boyfriend likes you and i don't enjoy how close you are but because I love my boyfriend I'll play nice and just mildly inconvenience you in the worst possibke ways" and the boyfriend in question is on board too they're horrible I love them so much I adore this guy so much you don't even know especially because hes such a hard worker he's constantly sick and bedridden but he still works so hard to do stuff to the best of his abilities it's gotten to a point where his friends had to invent a weekly holiday where they all take the day off and have fun and relax and they called it "Eichi-day" because it's for him because they want him around for longer than hed be around if he worked himself into an early grave. I love you Eichi Tenshouin the bestest Enstars guy in the world mwah mwah mwah!

And he has some of the coolest cards too I mean just look at those

Eichi Tenshouin the woooooorld!

Hello ensemble stars fandom! I am interested in getting into your series because one of your blorbos is very pretty, but it seems like there's a LOT of ground to cover and i'm feeling a little overwhelmed on where to start. Does anybody have some suggestions on where one should begin if they mainly just have an interest in Eichi? i saw "multimedia project" and got scared ;;

[springdandelixn]

Je te vois - Finale

Dark!Jorah x Daenerys

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41178564/chapters/103407948

Warnings: Story contains rape/noncon elements. Jorah is the bad guy. Please proceed with caution if that is not your cup of tea.

This chapter was inspired by darkficsyouneveraskedfor’s prompt "I knew the moment I saw you."

Part One

The week passes by in a buzz and Daenerys couldn’t be happier to finally leave the company. 

She received the contract from Blackbird Publishing the very next day after the party and after seeing how much they were willing to pay her just for an internship. She immediately sent a scanned copy of the signed contract and squealed in delight in her living room, jumping up and down in celebration.

But what drives her, even more, to be excited about leaving is that she won’t see Lynesse and Peggy any longer who’s made it a routine to pass by her cubicle every day since they came back from the party and blab about meaningless hearsay about her relationship with Jorah. 

She knew people would start talking, it was impossible for them not to be seen together. They were so close to one another and Lynesses saw it first hand. She doesn’t doubt they saw him kiss her hand too as well as waited with her for her Uber at the entrance of the hotel after she declined his offer to take her home himself. 

“We’re just friends.” She tells them in sheer annoyance while typing aimlessly at her computer, a poor attempt into ignoring and tuning them out. 

“ Friends? ” Lynesse scoffs while Peggy mimics her like some parrot. When did they even become friends? “Who would want to be friends with you?” They both laugh at her face, her fists closing tightly as she tries to steady her breathing and prevent herself from bursting. 

“For all we know you’re fucking the boss so you won’t be some lousy assistant any—” 

“Who’s fucking the boss?”

Daenerys’ eyes widen in shock when she hears Jorah’s voice over theirs, looking up from her screen and seeing him standing behind them, a wide smile on his face while he stares down at the two girls when they turn to face him. 

“Mr. Mormont—!” Peggy stammers, her body shivering as she looks down in complete embarrassment. 

“Do continue with your story,” Jorah says with sarcasm, leaning his hip against the cubicle wall and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m quite curious to know who our dear Ms. Targaryen is sleeping with, so she won’t be a lousy assistant any longer.” He says with ridicule.

Both girls stay quiet, their heads pointed at their feet as they fidget in place. And Daenerys can’t even feel sorry for them even if she tried. They’ve been harassing her all week, taunting her and hounding her, asking her embarrassing questions that she doesn’t even have answers to, the answers that they’re looking for.

“Ms. Hightower?” Jorah drones, his hand casually resting on his waist. “Correct me if I’m wrong but you’re not in this department, am I right?”

“Correct, Sir.” Lynesse whispers, the woman visibly wincing when Jorah hums audibly, the sound echoing throughout the floor. 

“Then please kindly tell me why you’re here and not at your desk, working.” Daenerys senses the bite in Jorah’s words, turning her head to face her monitor once again, not wanting to see the anger bubbling up within him. “It’s not even lunch break.”

“I—I don’t know,” Lynesse mumbles, seeing her eyes tear up from her periphery. 

“Oh, you don’t know?” Jorah mocks. “Because funny enough I know why you’re here.” His voice tightening in anger as he adds. “You’re here because you came to harass Ms. Targaryen who, as I can see from where I stand,” Jorah’s eyes dart to her for a quick second before facing both women once again. “is trying to do her job. You’re here because your life is so meaningless and dull that you have to fill it with petty lies and gossip to get the satisfaction that you exist and are better than anyone in this working environment. But most of all,” He stops mid-sentence and Daenerys can feel him smirking as she spies the two women standing stock still in their place, their mouths slack from Jorah’s wrath. “You’re here because it saves me the time to go to your stations and dismiss you both from your jobs.”

“What?!” Lynesse and Peggy say in unison, the latter already bursting into tears as she covers her face from humiliation. Daenerys gasps in shock and looks up at the two girls and then at Jorah, his blue eyes swimming in fury, his eyes completely focused on his target.

“You heard me. You’re both fired.” Jorah says with finality, his back going straight as he stands upright once more, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I will not tolerate such toxic behavior in my company nor will I allow you both to continue harassing other employees with your bullshit lies and accusations.”

“But—Mr. Mormont—” Lynesse tries to rebuttal, tears freely falling from her face, but comes out empty, her head turning to the crying girl beside her. “It was Peggy’s fault!” She points at the other girl. “She told me to come here!” She says in a rush, Peggy looking up at the blonde girl with pure betrayal on her face. 

“Enough!” Jorah roars, making both women cower and everyone on the floor either looking at them in shock or hiding in fear, including her. “I will not hear anymore of your excuses! Pack up your desks and leave the premises immediately! If I don’t hear from your superiors that you’ve already left the building in the next 30 minutes, I will have security drag you out. Do I make myself clear?”

They both nod and scurry back into their workstations, the cries of Peggy echoing throughout the office space. She doesn’t even dare to look at her and see if she would actually pack up her stuff and go, not when Jorah continues to stand by her spot, his eyes stoic as he looks around the office, every head who’s witnessed the gruesome exchange looking down to busy themselves with their work, not wanting to offend their president. 

“Ms. Targaryen.” Daenerys winces when he whispers her name, peeking up from her lashes, and seeing him still facing the room. “I want to see you in my office at noon sharp. Understood?” Jorah instructs and doesn’t wait for her answer before walking down the corridor and to Tyrion’s office. 

She releases the breath she’s been holding when she hears the door close, her head bowing down as she feels a wave of desolation rush over her. She knew Jorah to be strict, heck, every executive in the company was but it was in good faith that they were, to keep a good balance of work and play in the office. But not once has she seen him angry, she doesn’t even think anyone has seen him that furious for she’s never heard anyone say anything about his temper. Only praises of how a good boss Jorah Mormont is. But after that display, she doubts anyone would ever say he’s perfect. She doubts anyone would even open their mouth at all. 

 -

 Daenerys looks up from her feet when the elevator dings, signaling her arrival on the top floor. No one else aside from Jorah and his assistant, Samwell, stays on this level, the space igniting the inevitable nervousness at the pit of her stomach as only the sound of her heels clicking against the marble surface and the typing on Samwell’s keyboard fills the void.

She didn’t hear from Jorah any longer after the fiasco at her department. No emails nor calls to help assure her that she’s in the clear from what happened. Not that she was expecting any but she can’t shake away the feeling that he’ll be doing the same thing he did to those girls with her when she steps into his office. 

I don’t have to be afraid. I did nothing wrong. She tells herself but it does little to boost her confidence in facing the CEO. If anything, it just solidified her anxiety and her conclusion that Jorah was going to fire her for being the reason for such drama in the office. But it shouldn’t matter, right? Even if he does fire her, she’ll be leaving the company in a week to begin her career as a photographer. But what if he revokes his endorsement? What if he tells Petyr that she’s a troublemaker? She doesn’t even know what mood Jorah would be in when she sees him. Will he still be fuming? Will he shout at her? The negativity continues to pile up in her head, her heart pounding loudly against her chest, making her breathe heavily and stumble as she stops by Samwell’s desk. 

“Oh, Daenerys,” Samwell chirps when he looks up from his monitor, Daenerys giving him a small wave. “Have a seat. I’ll let Mr. Mormont know that you’re here.”

She squeaks a soft ‘thank you’ and occupies the middle seat on the waiting bench across Samwell’s desk, placing her purse atop her lap. Not too close and not too far. A perfect angle to gauge the atmosphere in the room. 

The typing resumes from Samwell’s end and Daenerys can’t help but fidget in anticipation in her seat. She grabs her phone and presses a button to bring the screen to life. 11:55 AM. She’s early and it makes her sigh, thinking that she could have come a bit later to lessen the waiting time and the fear that completely overcomes her. 

“Mr. Mormont is ready to see you now,” Samwell announces, the sound of his chair rolling back as he stands from his desk filling her ears, Daenerys standing along with him and inhaling deeply when she walks with him to the door. Samwell knocks lightly on it 3 times before pushing the wooden barrier open and ushering her in. 

She doesn’t hear a response when he announces her presence, her heart jumps in her throat when the door closes with a light click, Daenerys swallows thickly as she scans the modernly decorated office space that’s big enough to fit 3 conference rooms and stops at the floor-to-ceiling window when she sees Jorah standing in front of it, his eyes already locked on her and a grin on his face while holding an old-fashioned glass that’s half filled with amber liquid. 

“Darling,” Jorah’s voice cuts through the silence and Daenerys forces a smile as she takes a tentative step forward. “You made it. Please, have a seat.” He gestures to the L-shaped couch facing the windows. 

“I—I didn’t want to disappoint you.” She says in a soft voice as she walks toward him, angling herself when she reaches the couch and takes a seat in the middle just as he instructed. And it gives Daenerys a slight sense of ease to see that Jorah is back in his usual calm mood. He called me Darling. That’s a good sign, right?

“I know you would never disappoint me.” She notices how his grin turns playful as he says those words, her eyes darting forward to look at the skyline of London on display before them instead of his eyes. “How are you feeling?” The question takes her by surprise.

“Okay, I guess,” She mumbles, her hands fidgeting on the strap of her purse from the nervouness clawing at her throat. She then bursts into tears as she balls her fists tight. “Mr. Mormont—I am so sorry.” She begins, the tears immediately flowing down her cheeks. “I kept telling them to stop and I kept telling the truth, that we’re just friends and they wouldn’t believe me. They just wouldn’t no matter how much I tell them. Then—when—you saw them and I should have just told them off but—but—” She chokes and wipes her tears away harshly with her palm, feeling her make-up smudge on her skin and her hand. The tension is just too much for her to handle and the fear that she’s disrupted the company’s peace weighing heavily on her shoulders. That what happened with Lynesse and Peggy was her fault and that it has jeopardized any chances she has to fulfill her dreams. “Please—Please don’t revoke your recommendation to Mr. Baelish. I’ll stay an extra month until you find replacements for the vacant posts. I’ll—I’ll—”

“Daenerys,” Her rambling breaks off when she hears the strength in Jorah’s voice, looking up at the man with a deep frown on her face, her tears continuously rolling down her cheek with the droplets making their way to her hands. “I want you to relax. I’m not revoking anything.” He says calmly before a light chuckle leaves his lips. “I didn’t call you here to scold you.”

“You didn’t?” She asks as she sniffles.

“No,” A low laugh echoes through the office, Jorah’s chest rumbling as he does. “I called you here because I wanted to give you something.” His hand holding the glass then stretches and gestures towards the box she hadn’t noticed when she walked in sitting on the coffee table in front of her wrapped in black paper with a red ribbon laying on top of it. “That’s yours.”

“I—” She blinks fast and eyes the box before looking back up at her boss. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s alright,” Jorah says as he places the glass atop the coffee table, striding back on his desk and taking a box of tissues that he sets beside the mysterious gift. “Calm yourself down first then you may open it.” 

She nods and pulls out several tissues from the box and shyly wipes her face dry, the frown deepening even further when she sees her foundation and mascara smear on it, trying her best to clear whatever residue is left. A gasp then leaves her lips when she feels the tissues being snatched from her hand, Jorah now taking a seat beside her and taking hold of her chin, tilting her head back to face him before wiping her face himself. 

She sees his eyes boring into her, the blues turning darker by the minute as if he’s staring into her soul. A low rumble then sounds from his throat when he runs the tissue against her lip, his thumb following suit as he runs the pad against it, the smirk on his lips making itself known once again.

“You look beautiful, Darling, even after crying.” She hears Jorah say and Daenerys breaks their eye contact, looking down as much as she could, refusing to look up at him as she feels her cheeks heat from the comment. “And what happened with those girls was not your fault.” He says with a nod. “I told you before, I will not hesitate to fire anyone who spreads ill rumors in my company.”

She does remember. Back at the party; His words firm and sure of what he was to do if anyone dared to speak lies about him.

She keeps her head down and nods when he releases her, the soiled tissue sheets balled up and tossed carelessly onto the coffee table. The black mystery box is now placed on her lap and Daenerys reaches up to run her finger against the glittering ribbon. 

“Go on.” Jorah urges. “Open it. And I hope you like it.” 

She peeks up at him once and takes a breath, peeling the ribbon off and placing it down on the couch before carefully unwrapping the tape off on each side, unfolding the paper, not wanting to ruin the delicate wrapping. Her eyes then grow wide when the paper drapes off on her lap, revealing the brand new DSLR camera staring back at her.

“I—Jorah,” She hiccups, looking up to see him staring at her once again, this time, a soft smile playing on his lips. “This is for me?” This can’t be real.

“Well I don’t see anyone else here but the two of us,” Daenerys couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his joke. 

“But why?” She asks, her hands skimming against the box and pushing the flap open to pull the camera out of the box, confirming the gift to be real. 

“I wanted you to have a good start on your first day, next week.” He says as a matter-of-fact. How does he know that? “Petyr went ahead and told me when you were starting, so I went and picked this up. I wasn’t sure if you already had one but if you do, now you have two, but I sincerely hope that you would use this one more.”

“I—I don’t know what to say,” Daenerys whispers as she runs her thumb against the body of the camera. 

She’s always wanted one of these. To allow her to take pictures professionally and not through her phone or a borrowed camera from the library. But with all the bills she had to pay, even a debt that isn’t even hers but her stupid brother’s, the paycheck of an assistant was just barely enough to have her skim by each day. 

And now she has one but she doesn’t understand why Jorah would go out of his way to get her such an expensive gift. She does have a hunch, with the pet name and the way he acts around her but chooses not to dwell on it. To not entertain it. A boss cannot harbor feelings for their subordinates. It’s against company policy. And even if he did, that she continues to convince herself that he doesn’t, she cannot entertain as such with Jon in her life. Yes, she would want Jon to be similar to Jorah in terms of attention but no—it can’t be. They are simply friends and he’s just being kind. But do friends even gift each other items that are over 4 digits? Jon wouldn’t even think about giving her one, yet this man did and it makes her question, “Why?” 

“Why what? Don’t you like the gift?”

“No, I love it.” She mutters, “But I don’t understand why you would give me something like this. This is too much, Jorah. I—I’m just your employee.”

“And a good one.” He affirms, his leg crossing over his knee as he leans back against the couch, his arm stretched over the back. “And I believe that good employees, obedient employees, deserve rewards. Don’t you?”

“I—I don’t know.” She sighs and runs her finger against the lens. “I don’t think I can accept this.”

“You can and you will.” The sudden anger in his voice takes her by surprise, seeing Jorah’s lips set into a thin line when she looks up, his eyes narrowing at her whilst his hand lightly taps on the cushion at her side. “And you will say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Mormont. I appreciate this gift.’” 

There’s a threat to his words as if he’s taunting her, and the fact that he’s eliminated his first name worries her even further, scares her even, that she’s offended him deeply. Forcing herself to smile, Daenerys takes the strap of the camera and wears it around her neck carefully, the weight of Jorah’s stare heavier than the device. 

“Thank you, Mr. Mormont,” She breathes. “I appreciate this gift.”

“Good Girl.” Jorah praises and reaches over to flip the camera on, holding it up for her to take. Good Girl? “Go on. Try it. I can be your first model.” He grins and nods at the device. 

Swallowing thickly, she fiddles with the lens and lifts the device to position her eye against the viewfinder, focusing on Jorah who fixes his tie and faces her, seeing the blue of his eyes darker than before when she presses the button and the shutter echoes through. 

 -

 The morning autumn breeze blows through the city, leaves of gold and red scattering the sidewalks and crunching underneath her shoes, excitement thrumming through her veins as her camera bag hangs and swings from her shoulder, and a wide smile radiating from her lips as she walks up the stone steps of Blackbird Publishing. 

The building isn’t as big as her previous company, in fact, if you didn’t pay attention or have no idea of what the company’s logo looked like, you would miss it. Daenerys likes it that way, the lobby of the building already exuding comfort with several chairs and bean bags scattered on the floor, a small Starbucks kiosk nestled at the corner, and shelves of books and magazines everywhere you looked. 

Daenerys steps up to the reception desk and gives her name, the woman smiling at her as she hands her a badge, directing her to the hall of elevators and instructing her to go to the 5th floor. She thanks her and pins the badge on her dress, following the instruction and waiting in anticipation for the metal doors to open. 

Natasha, a woman wearing a plaid shirt over a black tank top and cargo shorts, her hair red as the fire, the Head of Imagery greets her with smiling eyes, Daenerys giggling at how happy she receives her in their department. They engage in small talk for a while as Natasha walks her through the hall, saying the name of each room and what it does in between stories of how her husband ruined her red shirt from a science experiment, with her ending up wearing a green one, to which she adds, “It’s my husband’s favorite color.” 

She then introduces Victor—her partner in crime—as Natasha puts it, a tall and lanky guy, with round specs over his eyes and soft-looking, blond hair, his office covered in posters of past award-winning photographs that were featured in their magazine. He’s kind and attentive, to Daenerys’ observation and within minutes of getting to know each other, she slowly dives into the motion of her work, following the instructions Victor gives her and smiling when he bids her a job well done. 

The day goes by in a whirl. Her mind intensely focused on the tasks she’s given that she ignores the constant buzzing of her phone in her pocket. She knows it’s Jon and it deflates her a bit that she can’t respond immediately, not wanting to ruin any of the photos she’s been tasked to edit by Victor and Natasha, but at the same time, she feels happy that he’s finally being more involved in her life. 

They reconciled after the party, Jon feeling remorseful for his lack of attention and sensitivity to Daenerys’ feelings after she opened up about his misgivings. It’s not like she’s perfect, she has flaws too and she apologized for them as well. And it just makes her feel giddy that their love is slowly rekindling itself, the feeling carrying over to her work, making her hum in her seat as she clicks through the editing software. 

When break time finally arrives, Daenerys stretches her arms and her back after sitting for so long but smiles as she sees her task list was almost done. The workload is just as tedious as her previous admin job but the fact that she’s doing what she loves takes away the stress from it all. 

“I’ll be having lunch outside, Dany!” Victor calls out, raising his lunch bag in her direction. 

“Enjoy!” She calls in return, waving at her co-worker and turning back to her computer, pulling her phone out from her pocket to respond to the messages she’s received. 

Just as she suspected, there was a text from Jon and it makes her smile as she reads his wishes of good luck and his confirmation for their celebratory dinner tonight. What she doesn’t expect were several messages and a missed call from an unknown number, but as she reads the messages, she immediately knows that it was Jorah, asking her how her day was going and what time she was off, another one asking how she was adjusting, and another telling her about a meeting he feels stuck in. 

Not that she didn’t appreciate such messages, they just came unexpectedly. Jorah has never messaged her on her personal number before. She doesn’t even remember exchanging numbers with him at all, her curiosity piquing up as she thinks how he got hold of hers but she answers her question all the same. Company Directory . Of course, he has access to it, probably the reason why he took the initiative to send Mr. Baelish her email. 

She sends a quick reply to Jon, giddily telling him how excited she is about their dinner tonight then sending one to Jorah, replying that she’s having a blast at her new job. 

She places her phone down on her desk and reaches for her backpack to take the sandwich she’s prepared for lunch when her phone starts ringing, startling her in the process. Her heart then hammers against her chest when she sees the same unknown number calling, Jorah’s face popping in her mind as she watches her phone vibrate in her hand. 

Taking a steady breath, she presses her thumb against the green icon and slides it against the screen, lifting the device to her ear.

“Hello?” She answers, looking down at the sandwich sitting on her desk. 

“Darling, I was worried you weren’t getting my messages,” Jorah says, a happy tone in his voice. “How are you? How’s your first day?”

She hums and scratches her thumb against her desk. “It’s been great. Sorry I wasn’t able to reply immediately. I didn’t want to get distracted with my tasks.”

“That’s alright, Darling.” The pet name returns, making Daenerys squirm uncomfortably in her seat. “I just wanted to invite you for dinner tonight. You know, to celebrate your first day?”

Her heart sinks. Dinner? What does she tell him? She already knows that Jorah wouldn’t be happy knowing she has plans. The way his voice sounded when he told her to accept the camera still fresh in her memory, a spark of fear running down her spine. 

“I—I’m sorry, Jorah. I can’t.” She mumbles. “I’m having dinner with Jon tonight.” She shuts her eyes tight when the line goes silent, her heart pounding hard against her chest as she awaits his response.

“I see,” She hears the disappointment in his voice, Daenerys hating herself that she even has to feel apologetic for rejecting him. The instinct to please she developed when working as an assistant resurfacing. 

“I’m really sorry, Jorah.” Daenerys frowns in worry. “How about tomorrow? I’m free tomorrow.”

“What time is your dinner anyway?” He asks. 

“We’ll be meeting at O’Malley’s Pub at 8.” She answers.

There’s a slight pause at his end, muffled voices and movement playing in the background. “We can grab a couple of drinks then while you wait for him. We’ll pre-game as others call it.”

“I’m not sure. I don’t want to get drunk.”

“Just a drink.” He insists. “Just until he arrives and I’ll leave you be.” 

It’s just one drink. There’s no harm in that right? And it doesn’t seem like a bad idea to have company while waiting for Jon. She knows 8 pm was just a tentative time with him anyway, that the possibility he would be a couple of minutes late from his shift is close to a hundred. 

And Jorah just probably wants to know how she’s adjusting to her new job. She wouldn’t be here anyway if it wasn’t for him. If he didn’t give a good word to Mr. Baelish in the first place. And he’s just asking for a drink, it’s the least she could do after everything he’s given her, after everything he’s done for her. 

She schools her emotions and releases a calming breath, nodding to his request even when he cannot see her. “A drink sounds great. And we can still go on that dinner tomorrow too, the timing is just off today.” She tries to sound happy, hoping that Jorah believes her sincerity. 

“Amazing! I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift then.” He says, his voice much lighter than earlier, making Daenerys release a relieved sigh. “See you, Darling.” He bids. 

“See you.” She says back, keeping the phone on her ear as she waits for Jorah to end the call. 

Placing her phone face down on her desk once more, she picks up her sandwich and unwraps it, taking her mind off of the conversation earlier. She doesn’t want to dwell so much on Jorah’s reactions, doesn’t think about Jon either for she knows that if she gets caught up in such an emotional strain, it would affect her work and she doesn’t want to fuck up on her first day. 

Taking a tentative bite of her sandwich, she hums and closes her eyes as she tries to return to her earlier joy when coming to work. Nothing and nobody should have the power to ruin her day. 

“Only great things will happen from now on, Dany.” She tells herself. “Great things.”

 -

 She waves goodbye to Victor after logging out of her computer and then at Natasha as she heads to the elevator. The rest of the day seemed to go by so fast that when she looked up from her monitor, her shift was already over. 

It still feels surreal for her that her life seems to be heading into the right direction. No more working just to get by. No more fear that her money wouldn’t last her the week. And most importantly, no more dreaming of becoming who she wants to be, for she’s already taking the first steps into turning her dreams into a reality. 

The sound of the elevator suddenly brings Jorah to the forefront of her mind. She forgot to text him that she was already done her shift. She was quite thankful that her phone stopped buzzing for the entire duration of her work, Jon wasn’t an avid texter so she didn’t really expect anything from him but Jorah, she was worried that he would send her more messages and the thought of him being upset because she wasn’t responding made her shiver in worry. 

‘ Shift just ended. ’ She quickly types on her phone and sends it. A ping coming immediately soon after, a reply from Jorah. ‘ Waiting outside. ’

How does he know when I’m off? She clutches her phone tightly in her hand as thoughts of Jorah and his action come to the surface of her mind. That for some reason, Jorah knows so much about her and what she does. How he seems to appear at the right moment without her even disclosing anything to him. It’s probably just a coincidence. She convinces herself and refuses to listen to the voice at the back of her head saying ‘ It’s because he likes you .’ Her contact details are available to the company and getting off from work at such a time is the norm in almost all working environments. Yes, a coincidence. She nods to herself and wills the ill thoughts back where she can never think of them.

Just as she expected, she sees Jorah standing in front of the building, his usual navy suit enveloping him perfectly. But what catches her attention is the bouquet of roses in his hand, a smile playing on his lips when he spots her among the passing strangers and walks towards her, meeting her halfway. 

“Hi.” He breathes, holding out the bouquet to her. “For you. To celebrate your first day.”

She takes them and smiles back at him, lifting the flowers to her nose to take a whiff of the fragrance. “Jorah, you shouldn—” No, he doesn’t like his decisions being questioned. That day in his office coming to light once again. The anger in his voice and the words he said echoing in her head. 

You can and you will. 

Taking a deep breath, she keeps the smile on her face. “Thank you, Jorah. They’re lovely.”

“I’m glad you like them.” He says as he reaches over and takes her pack hanging loosely on her shoulders. “So, do you want to wait at O’Malley’s, or would another place suit your taste while we wait for that boyfriend of yours?” She doesn’t miss the tightness in Jorah’s voice when he mentions Jon and it somehow deflates her that there’s an unspoken tension that revolves around both men. 

She asks, “What do you prefer? I think Jon will text me when he’s on his way to the pub anyway.” And she only does so to appease her former boss. 

“There’s a place called Tres at the edge of town. About 15 minutes from the pub by car.” He says as he opens the back of the car and places her bag inside, taking the flowers from her grasp after. “I heard their cocktails are phenomenal.”

“Sounds good.” She says and carefully gets in the passenger seat after Jorah’s opens the door, a gasp of surprise escaping her when his hand takes hold of the seatbelt before leaning over, his face so close to her as he locks the belt in place. 

“Must keep you safe.” He gives her a playful wink as he rights himself once more and closes her door. 

Tres is not the place Daenerys was expecting Jorah would be taking her to. It’s like she was transported back into the 1920s as soon as she stepped through their door. Soft light illuminates the place with plush leather booths surrounding the elegant, mahogany bar sitting in the middle of the room, with two bartenders mixing drinks in front of their patrons. It was more of a Gentleman’s Club if anything, with several men clad in suits occupying the seats with their female companions dressed in cocktail dresses. 

It suddenly makes her feel out of place as she looks down at her attire, a plain white dress that stops just above her knees with a brown belt tied around her waist. Her sneakers look even more inappropriate compared to the heels that are strapped around the women’s ankles.

She takes a step back, feeling like an alien entering another universe when she feels a hand press against her lower back, looking up to see Jorah staring down at her, his blue eyes soft yet full of question. 

“I don’t think I belong here,” She mutters, her eyes unrelenting in scanning the place. “I’m not even dressed properly to be here.”

“There’s no dress code.” Jorah in tones, his hand moving to the side of her waist and resting it on her hip. “And you look lovely as always. Shall we sit?” 

But she doesn’t get to give her answer as he tugs her to his side, striding down the row of booths and claiming the one at the very corner of the bar, his hand only pulling away to allow her to slide into the leather seats. 

“How was your day today?” He asks as he takes his beside her, too close for comfort and his arm stretches at the back of her seat, his head tilting as he keeps his eyes on her. “Were the people kind? I’d like to hear everything.” 

A server then appears in front of them, Daenerys looking up to face the young man when he asks for their orders. She’s not given a menu and it slightly worries her that she would make a fool out of herself if she asks for something they don’t have. 

“Whiskey. Neat.” Jorah says, not looking at the boy. “And a sample board if you have it.” 

“Uhmm—what do you have?” Daenerys worries her lip, her hands resting on her lap as she plays with the hem of her dress to ease her anxiety. 

“You can order anything you want, Ma’am, and we shall make it for you.” The server directs.

“P-Peach Bellini?” She doesn’t even know if she said her order right. But the server just nods and turns away from their table, Daenerys looking down at her hands when her introversion makes another appearance. And she doesn’t even know why she’s being so shy. Why she’s acting as such when she’s just having drinks. Drinks with Jorah. He said she looks alright and there’s no dress code. So, she doesn’t have to worry about sticking like a sore thumb. 

And it’s as seem Jorah senses her apprehension, his hand gingerly moving to rest on her shoulder, giving the joint a light squeeze. “Daenerys, relax.” He tuts and she heeds his advice, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Today is a good day for you. And I only have you for a little while. Don’t you think we should make the most of it?” 

She nods and wills herself to smile, a genuine one this time. 

And she does end up relaxing; diving back into the smooth conversations she would have with Jorah back then as he tells her of the comings and goings of the company, how he’s implemented a new rule that concerns gossip and other non-business-related conversations that lead employees into the path of unproductivity. While she, in turn, tells him about the company and how she enjoyed every bit of it. How Natasha has been nothing but nice and accommodating to her transition to a new working environment and how Victor—there’s a tick on Jorah’s jaw when she mentions his name—has been helpful in her tasks and that she’s quite thankful that she already knows how to work the software they’ve been using in the firm. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Jorah says as he pops a grape in his mouth, the look he has on when the fruit pushes against his cheek making her giggle.

“I am. And I cannot thank you enough for helping me get this.” She says before sipping her second cocktail. 

“Like I said, anything for you, Darling.” He grins and takes a tentative sip of his whiskey, their conversation moving on to how her previous supervisor, Tyrion, was glad that Peggy has been fired from the company. 

After three cocktails in, Daenerys starts to worry in her seat, peeking at her phone from time to time as she waits for Jon’s text. It’s already 10 o’clock and they were supposed to meet two hours ago but still, he hasn’t responded to any of her messages. 

“Maybe he forgot.” Jorah hums as he finishes his drink, the tumbler making an audible sound as he places it back on the table. “I mean, he did leave you at the party. I wouldn’t trust a man who wouldn’t even think about his woman for even a second.” 

The comment takes her back and the easiness she was feeling earlier dissipates. His words are true, yes, but pointing it out further just drives the knife deeper into her heart, that Jon has indeed forgotten their plans for dinner breaks it even more. 

She picks up her phone once more and tries to call this time, making several attempts and each one only brings her to voicemail. She sighs, the drink in front of her forgotten as she thumbs through her phone, reading the last message Jon sent to her today. 

“I think I’m calling it a night.” Daenerys deflates, fighting the tears that are threatening to fall from her eyes. 

How can he forget her so fast when he confirmed that he would show up earlier? They talked about their flaws and had an intense heart-to-heart about his assumed indifference in her life. And he promised he would change. Promised her that he would be more present, more available, and give her the emotional satisfaction she desperately needs. But now it feels like all that talk has fallen on deaf ears and that Jon has rolled back into his usual self.

“Let me take you home.” Jorah offers as he stands from his seat, offering his hand to her which she takes. 

“That’s alright.” Daenerys sighs. “I can grab an Uber from here.”

“Please. I insist.” Jorah pushes, his hand resting on her arm, the sudden touch making her flinch. “You’re obviously in distress and I wouldn’t trust a stranger taking you home.” He adds. “Please, it will bring me peace to know that you arrive home safely.”

With Jon being MIA once more and knowing that Jorah doesn’t take lightly to answers that involve ‘no’, and frankly, she doesn’t have the energy to argue and with the sadness dominating her senses, she nods, and concedes to his offer, following him out of the bar and back to his car. 

She’s quiet for the whole drive, her head leaning against the window as she stares blankly into space. She couldn’t take Jon off her mind and how he flaked on her. Couldn’t accept that their talk from before has all been for nothing. 

But she’s pulled away from her reverie when Jorah makes a turn at the right corner. The street and houses looking all too familiar for her not to notice. And when she looks at the GPS on the dashboard, there’s no path he’s following, no destination typed into the console. Her mind going overdrive, fear encasing her as she thinks how Jorah knows where she lives when she didn’t even give him her address. 

She sits up and grabs her phone tightly when she sees them stop in front of her building. The lamp posts and the silver moon being the only source of light to illuminate the streets as windows from the surrounding houses and apartments bathe in darkness. 

Without saying a word, Jorah gets out of the vehicle as soon as he turns it off, Daenerys watching him stride to her side and open the door for her. 

She steps out carefully, her heart pounding in her ribs as she watches him take out her things from the backseat, the flowers being placed in her hands along with her camera bag while he slings her backpack on one shoulder. 

“You don’t have to take that.” She says with a forced smile, reaching up for her bag but Jorah’s hand circles around her wrist, stopping her from taking her things and looking at her with seriousness in his eyes. 

“Nonsense.” Jorah chuckles, the grin on his lips making her spine shiver with trepidation. “You’re not yet at your door. I wouldn’t want you to break your neck in case you trip on the stair, especially with you carrying all this.”

She swallows thickly and nods at his words that feign concern, agreeing to his request as she walks to the front door, taking her keys out of the pocket of her camera bag, just to appease him and possibly make him leave her alone faster.  

Her body goes rigid as they climb the steps of her apartment, Daenerys feeling Jorah’s chest so close to her back making her nervous that she flinches and trip on a step, his hand finding its way to her hip when she tries to right herself. 

“See? Good thing I was here.” He laughs.

She laughs back, although in pretense, to not arouse any suspicion that she feels unsafe with how this man is acting. The man she’s come to know for years now. The man she looks up to and has shown his support in her work. 

She clutches her keys tight and quickens her pace as she climbs the remainder of the steps, her door coming to view making her feel elated that she will be in a safe space away from this man. Immediately, she fumbles with her keys, and she hiccups when her fingers get all sticky, her eyes blurring as she tries to push the key through the slot. 

Yet her attempts are halted when Jorah’s hand comes into view, her keychain snatched from her hand and he inserts the metal instrument through the hole, the knob turning in his grasp after and pushing the door open to her apartment. 

“After you,” He hums and Daenerys slips through the threshold, her back facing Jorah and her heart dropping to her stomach when she hears him step inside, the locks on her door snapping into place.

She places the bouquet and her camera bag down on the coffee table, her bag making an audible thud when it hits the floor and Jorah’s footsteps echoing through the living room, filling her ears, making it known to her that he’s walking around her space. 

“Quaint.” He remarks. “And cozy.” And Daenerys gathers the courage to face him, her eyes widening in surprise to see Jorah holding the picture frame previously hanging at the side of her door, a picture of her and Jon during their visit to Buckingham Palace. 

“I’m home safe.” She speaks all of a sudden, giving Jorah the fakest smile. “You can go now. Jon might come by to check on me.” She rambles as she tries to recall the video she saw in high school when dealing with unwanted visitors. Keep stalling til you find an escape. “He could have just been tied up at work and is probably on his way here—”

“Oh, he’s not coming.” Jorah hums, his eyes still glued to the frame before dropping it on the floor and stepping on it with a loud crunch. 

“What—what do you mean?” She asks, feeling her blood run cold at his eerie words. 

Jorah then reaches in his pocket to take out his phone, tapping on the screen before holding it out for her to take. “Why don’t you see for yourself.”

Taking the device with shaky hands, she chokes on her breath when she sees the image of Jon slumped on the ground. His eyes closed, his lip and forehead bleeding and a bruise forming on the side of his face. She looks up at Jorah then back at the photo, her muscles tightening as she studies his battered face. 

“What did you do?” She gasps, her face red in anger and her eyes brimming with tears. “What the fuck did you do?!”

“Me?” Jorah feigns innocence and plucks the phone from her hands, tucking the device back in his pocket. “I did nothing of the sort. I was with you the whole night, remember? While your boyfriend was absent, like always.” He smirks and picks up another photo of her and Jon, giving it the same treatment as the previous one.

“They’ll find him!” She shouts. “Someone will find him and they will find out what you did to him!”

“Maybe—” Jorah hums and takes a step closer to Daenerys, his eyes turning sinister as he keeps them on her. “Or maybe they won’t. Maybe, they’ll find his body floating in some river and see a man who saw no future after his girlfriend dumped him for another. Decided to drown himself to end his meaningless life.” He chuckles when Daenerys looks at him in horror, the tears spilling down her face as she stares at the man she thought she knew. “The media would sop up that story in a flash, don’t you think?”

Daenerys takes a step back, her body shivering in terror before sprinting to her bedroom. She doesn’t look back when she hears his hurried steps, grabbing onto the knob but yelps when Jorah latches unto her arm. 

“Hel—” Her scream gets muffled as Jorah covers her mouth, her eyes blown wide when he pulls her closer to him and sneers in her face. 

“Shut up!” He warns and walks them both to her room, kicking the door closed before pushing her to the bed, her back dropping harshly on the mattress. 

She pushes her palms against the bed as she tries to lift herself up, her instinct to scream taking over once more but stops when his hand wraps around her neck, his body pressing hard against hers, Daenerys gasping when he tightens his grip.

“Don’t give me a reason to hurt you, Darling.” He growls, Daenerys clawing on his wrist when he adds pressure on his hold.

“Please—” She chokes out.

“You promise?” He hisses and she nods, her eyes shutting tight when she feels the air slowly leave her. “Don’t make me regret it.” A threat and Daenerys gasps deeply, taking lungfuls of air before coughing loudly as she holds her neck, Jorah still atop her with his eyes boring into her. 

“Why are you doing this?” She rasps, the tears continuously rolling down her face as Jorah’s hand begins to wander down her thighs, giving it a hard squeeze. 

“Because I am better for you.” He says in a serious tone, his nose grazing down her cheek while his hand rides up her dress, a finger slipping through the fabric of her panties and pulling on it to have the elastic snap against her skin. “Because your boyfriend is not the man you’re supposed to be with. Because you’re supposed to be with someone who takes care of you, who supports you, and who loves you.” He whispers, his lips pressing a kiss on her cheek before trailing it down her neck. “And I’m that man.” His tongue then rolls on a patch of skin, Daenerys whimpering while her stomach turns at his words and how her body starts to respond to his touch, feeling her cunt go slick.

“If you love me Jorah, you wouldn’t do this.” She cries, her voice still raw from his previous assault. “Please, just let me go.”

“Oh, but I can’t do that, or else you won’t realize that you need me. That. You. Love. Me.” He says each word in a hushed voice laced with danger, and pulls away from her, dropping down to his knees on the floor of her room as he lifts her dress up and tugs her panties past her legs, pressing the soiled fabric against his nose and hearing him inhale deeply before tucking the undergarments in his pocket.

He pushes her thighs apart and Daenerys gasps when the cool air hits her sensitive cunt, another cry leaving her lips when he runs his tongue against her pussy lips, rolling around her swollen nub. She tries to stop him once more, pushing his head away from her but his large hand takes hold of both hers, locking her in place as he begins to lap his tongue against her folds.

She can’t believe that this is happening. That Jorah who was always kind to her is now doing such sinful things to her. She tries to think of how it started, of what she did to warrant such attention from him. Was it because she always said yes and never once tried to go against what he asked, what he wanted? But she only did it out of courtesy, did it because she didn’t want to offend and wanted to appease. She was a good employee. An obedient one. He said so himself. 

But he loves her. He said he loves her. Why would he bestow upon her a nightmare if he loves her?

Her breath suddenly hitches and her muscles stiffen at the sudden intrusion of his digit in her, feeling her pussy suck his finger in as he buries it to the knuckle. And he doesn’t wait for long before thrusting it in and out, his pace quick and relentless, making her arch her back at the overwhelming sensation. 

She pants heavily and grits her teeth, her mind going black when he adds a second, then a third, the pain from her walls stretching around his digits digging into her pelvis, making her squirm on the bed.

His lips then round her clit and begin sucking on it like a starved man, no pretense of holding back or slowing down, her core starting to quiver as she feels herself climbing higher into ecstasy. The tears on her face have long since dried and she feels shame wash over her as her body sing and delights from his torturous touch.

“That’s it, Baby,” Jorah coaxes against her cunt. “I can feel you close.”

She tries not to give in. Tries her best not to give him the satisfaction of succumbing to his ministrations. But she can’t fight her body, can’t fight her sense. Her heels digging into the mattress when he adds pressure on her clit, his tongue frantic as his fingers move faster and harder, thrusting deeper inside of her, the sound of her cunt squelching and his hums of pleasure filling her ears. 

Her hands are then released from his hold and his thumb replaces his mouth on her swollen bud as he moves up and trails kisses on her pelvis, his body pressing against hers when he sees his face next to hers, the blues of his eyes almost gone as his pupils blown wide in evident arousal and his nose grazing down her cheek as he keeps up the movement of his hand.

“Cum for me, Baby.” He groans and as if his voice triggers something in her, she combusts with a loud cry, her head lolling on the mattress and her eyes rolling back as her release grips her senses.

A whine then leaves her lips when Jorah continues to rub her still, his fingers easing her from her high before he pulls his fingers out, feeling her pussy clench from the loss. She tries to regulate her breathing, to steady her erratic heart, and when she opens her eyes, she sees Jorah staring at her, his lips wrapping around his digits as he licks them clean of her essence. 

“God, you taste divine, Darling.” Jorah groans as he pulls his hand away, Daenerys seeing his beard glistening with her unwelcomed arousal. “Turn over.” He commands after, his hand slapping her still sensitive thigh hard, Daenerys pushing herself to do his bidding, for she could tell he was still holding back. She winces to think what that hand would do if she dares to disobey.

“Take everything off.” The power in his voice shakes her to the core, immediately working to undo the belt then the buttons of her dress, dropping the fabric to her waist and stopping when only her bra is left to keep her dignity. “I said everything.” His command comes once more, this time with a bite, and with shaky hands she reaches from behind, sobbing as she unclasps the hooks of her bra from behind, Jorah’s hands reaching over to slide the straps off her arms and letting the article drop on the bed. 

He pushes her down on the mattress, her chest pressed down while her ass hangs in the air on display for him. The telltale sound of his pants unzipping and the rustle of cotton and denim fill the quiet, the thud of shoes and the clang of his belt buckle coming after.

“Keep those hands where I can see them, Darling.” He warns as he grabs her waist, her heart constricting when she feels the tip of his cock brushing again her soaking cunt. 

A soft cry of ‘no’ leaves her lips as he pushes through her folds, her hands clutching tightly on the duvet on her bed as he continues to drive himself in inch by inch, his groans of pleasure then a growl echoes through the room when he bottoms out.

He pulls back slowly, leaving only the head before plunging himself back inside, a garbled cry escaping her lips as he begins to fuck her hard, his pace unforgiving and reckless.

“Please—” Her cries turn into moans as she reaches back, pressing her hand against Jorah’s strong thigh. “It hurts—”

“Take it, Baby, you can do it.” Jorah growls and slaps her hand away. “Don’t you feel how your sweet little cunt wants me?” He says in between pants, his fingers digging into her flesh, feeling herself bruise underneath his touch while his cock thrusts harder and harder, the bed creaking underneath, threatening to break from his frenzied movements.

She lets out a loud yelp when he suddenly grabs her by the hair, her back arching as he pulls her up and holds her against him, her back pressing against his solid chest and feeling his chest hair rub against her skin while his hand makes its way back around her neck.

“You. Are. Mine.” He says between each thrust, the sound of their skin slapping against each other mixing with their hurried breathing driving her closer to her limit once more. 

“Tell me you’re mine!” He demands, and Daenerys grunts as his hand tightens around her throat when she refuses to give in to his bidding. “Tell me!” He growls even louder, snapping his hips in a merciless rhythm, making her body quiver both in fear and pleasure.

“I’m yours! Please, Jorah—I’m yours!” She cries, her hand reaching up to grab his arm, her legs shaking as she feels the familiar pull at the core of her belly once more.

“Yes— Yesss!” Jorah exclaims and curses a loud fuck! in the air as his pelvis quickens in pace before giving one final thrust and stilling, his cock buried deep inside of Daenerys’ cunt and spilling in his desire, white ropes coating her walls. The act itself triggers her climax once again, making her body spasm against his at her release, her chest heaving as Jorah continues to thrust his hips, riding out his climax along with hers.

Daenerys feels breathless and used, her body being laid down on the bed and a whimper escaping her throat when Jorah pulls out, feeling his essence drip down her thighs, leaving her hollow and spent, her cunt raw and clenching from the loss of his cock and her body shivering when he presses his lips on the base of her nape, slowly trailing them down her back and stopping at the dip before her ass. 

“Such a good girl.” Jorah praises and runs a hand up her side, whispering once more against her shoulder, a shiver from both his menacing voice and fear running up her spine. “ My good girl.” 

 -

 The black barrier with a crest of a bear stares back at her as she stands in front of the door. It’s Jorah’s place. A house built away from the city and near the boundaries of the country. It’s where she will be living as per Jorah, telling her to pack her things after that night. He’s even struck a deal with Petyr, the man agreeing that she’s to transition working from home, even giving her the position at his firm completely only after a few days of her internship.

Daenerys doesn’t hear from Jon again after that night. No calls, no messages, making her fear that Jorah has made true to his threat. She cannot even try and contact him herself as Jorah took away her phone and replaced it with a new one. One he can track her with, one he threatened her into believing that any calls made outside of work would only make her suffer. And that he was listening and watching, always.

Jorah opens the door and nudges her in, her camera hanging around her neck, a reminder of his cruelty and deceit, and her luggage that contains everything she owns in Jorah’s hand. She thinks about where things have started to go out of hand, and what she did for her to end up in such an ordeal but stops her thoughts altogether for she knows there is no answer to her questions. That with Jorah, her life is better by not having questions at all. 

She flinches when the door shuts with a snap, Jorah taking her hand and walking her up the staircase that’s decorated in modern architecture. That if the circumstances we different, she would take the time to appreciate its beauty, along with the decor of the house. But she can’t bring herself to do so as fear completely takes over her being, a constant presence in the company of this man.

She follows him through the hallway, various doors closed for her to see, her eyes firmly ahead as she stops in front of a closed door at the end. Jorah’s room, she assumes as he reaches over and pushes it open, revealing a neatly made king-size bed, walls of gray and white, and a closet full of suits hanging neatly beside an ensuite. 

She looks around, trying to see even the smallest shred of the man she used to know when she stands frozen by the bed, blood running cold as her eyes stare at a grey wall, bare of any furniture aside from multiple photos. Photos of her. In various places. Her profile staring back at her wearing the outfit she vaguely remembers as the one she wore when she first joined his company. Another of her half naked at her apartment window. Another leaving the cafe she frequented in her lunch breaks and a big one where she’s smiling happily into the camera, one she remembers being taken on her first date with Jon, a big red X over his face. 

“Y-You’ve been w-watching me?” She stutters. 

And Jorah moves to block her vision, her eyes looking up to meet his, a devious smirk on his lips when he says, “I knew you were mine the moment I saw you.”

She shivers when he presses his lips against her lips, his hand holding her down by the shoulder and she knows that there will be no escaping this man. That he’s got what he wanted and he would stop at nothing to keep it.