#chapters in when she made the jump) i would not have developed familiarity with tumblr which in turn would have deterred me

[iamthescalesofjustice]

thinking about it, if [author name redacted] had just started posting her stuff to teaspoon instead i would probably not be on tumblr lol

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey steph! how long would you say you spent on sorting out fic recs and tagging them and all that stuff? just curious because i really wanna start a fic rec blog too

Hey Nonny!

UGGGHHHH Tumblr deleted my entire response, so I’m going to just jot out what I remember.

Depending upon how long you’re willing to spend, a LONG time. You guys have NO idea how much work it is, and how much off-tumblr time I spend doing it. When I keep saying “it’s a full time job” it really is. The blogging you guys actually see takes about 2 hours, from filing my blog to answering a few asks here and there, but the rest is ALL filing my fics and creating lists. 

Now, mine is “perfected to my liking” after two years of trial and error and headaches, but yeah, if you’re serious about becoming strictly a fic rec blog, prepare to put in a lot of time and effort. BUT to be fair, I’m ridiculous in my sorting and organizing... I have a weird OCD thing where I need stuff sorted in a certain way, and it takes longer than it probably should. But it works for me and it has become very streamlined now that almost all of my Ao3 bookmarks are finally sorted. In the beginning, when I decided I would start reccing fics, it was only meant to be a here and there thing, but then people kept coming to me more and more and that’s when I decided I needed to keep an offline list. So here’s some tips from me to you:

Keep offline lists. Tumblr fucks up enough that you WILL lose interest in redoing a big 50-fic list if tumblr decides that nope, today I don’t feel like posting your file because you didn’t refresh your page BEFORE typing it out.

Going along with the above, keep an offline masterlist of your read-and-tagged fics. All the recs I give you guys? They’re all on one of three list masterlists I have offline: GO Recs, FFNet Recs, and Ao3 Recs. This will be SO much easier for searching for topics when making new lists.

Do the lists WAY ahead of time. This has given me back many-a-Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday nights because I prep my lists ahead of time.

Develop the “public” system of filing for your things, and use that for your Masterlist, so you don’t have to redo it every time (so like don’t have just Ficname by author if that’s not what you want to do for your recs). For example, my system is this, emphasis included: Fic Name by Author (Rating, wordcount, Chapter count || WIP/AU if applicable || PODFIC LINK if applicable || list of personal and/or author tags here, even if they spoil the story; i’ve found some people with triggers appreciate that I tag EVERYTHING I find in the stories) – Author’s description or personal description if there isn’t one. Series link if it’s part of one. This way, all I have to do is copy-paste it into new documents for each list, and then copy-paste the whole list into the Tumblr doc. 

Also, re: the above, do the layout in Tumblr if you’re doing a Tumblr rec blog. It keeps the formatting consistent and I don’t have to fix it between Ao3 and FFnet if I just copy-paste everything into a blank Tumblr doc, and then copy paste THAT onto the masterlist. Trust me on this one. 

Draft everything. This goes along with all the above. I always “start” a list and put a big header so that I can find it in my drafts (that’s why they have the big bold H1 headers on them) and then hit “draft”. Then keep a list of your drafted fics in your preferred method of organization. I keep everything in Text Edit RTF files. I believe Alexx told me once she did spreadsheets. Either way, develop a system BEFORE jumping into this thing, because you will EASILY get overwhelmed if you aren’t used to high-stress levels.

Tag fics as you read them. Trust me on this one. Because it will save you MONTHS of re-reading every single bookmark so you can properly file fics. I do this on my Notes App with the story title, and then all the tags I know are popular requests or are for lists I know Nonnies have asked for.

Keep CONSISTENT in your tags. Don’t tag one thing O!verse but another Omegaverse. I had to redo a lot of my older tags because CMD+F was pointless on a document I purposely made to streamline the process.

USE Ao3′s TAGGING FEATURE for your bookmarks. Just make sure that if any of your tags are spoilerific, make sure you keep the rec private.

File EVERYTHING as soon as you bookmark it. It will save you a LOT of hours of going through all your recent bookmarks to file them. 

That said, HAVE A FILING SYSTEM if you’re keeping everything offline. Keep separate documents for each list... Trust me on this. I used to just have one document each for Fluff fics, for example, and put subheaders in them, and it just got messy and annoying as my fic reccing became more common and plentiful. Instead, have a nice list like this, for instance:

The grey dots next to some of them are old filing methods that I need to fix and pull out. Also, as you can see, every time I finish a list, I file it into Posted and start a new list appended with a Pt number. It just keeps the system moving smoothly. I also have a system for the coloured dots; Grey is Old and refile, Orange is drafted on Tumblr, and Orange and Green means it’s drafted and ready-to-post.

I also have an offline “drafted posts document”:

That also has a system as you can see, but it keeps me knowing what I’ve already got drafted on Tumblr if I forget to tag the files with the colour dots.

It looks tedious and complicated, but I promise you, it’s really simple once you’re familiar with my method. Which is why I’m saying, you need to develop this kind of system REALLY early rather than 2 years later like I did. This drafted posts list is only recent as of... February I believe is when I started it.

Hmmm. Ah, yeah, so you can see it’s a lot of work, and this is why I absolutely dislike HateAnons negatively criticizing my lists, because it IS a lot of MY free time, between 8 and 48 hours a week. But if you truly enjoy sorting and organizing like I do, it’s a bit easier to cope with. So, yeah, whenever I tell you guys “I need some time away” this is why, and usually I switch to playing video games or doing art, both of which I miss doing on the weekends. I’m trying to keep the Tumblr stuff to mostly Weeknights these days, so that it’s an extension of my day job. Funny how I have less free time working at home than I did when I wasn’t; because I feel obligated to always be on my computer now, and I hate that. Like right now, I just bought 2 new games to play and I haven’t tried them yet because I’m always working both day-job stuff AND Tumblr stuff on weekends. 

So yes, that’s another tip: Don’t let it consume you, and set a schedule. Don’t feel obligated to answer every request. When I am tired and I just genuinely don’t have the energy to dig through 1000+ fics to find 2 or three for an obscure ask, I usually make it an interactive ask – not only does it encourage community involvement and a sense of belonging for everyone, but I also discover new fics to read too! I am IMMENSELY proud and happy that my fic lists have essentially become “fic exchange” grounds. Before it was only on one or two lists, some timid new authors added their fics to my big lists, but now, since people SEE that I add their fics hidden in the notes to the main post, now everyone is happy to share their faves on the main lists AS WELL AS the smaller single asks. I like to think of myself of a “curator of happy things” so that’s what I like to do with these. 

That said, you have to also decide if you’re going to be this interactive as well. Because that adds an ADDITIONAL hour or so as you make a separate “MFL” document and file those too. It’s time consuming, but totally worth it because if I’ve read the fic, all I have to do to that post in my MFL list is add my tags and file that block of text :)

I hope I helped you out a bit, Nonny, and I hope you guys enjoyed seeing a bit of my process. If I can get OBS to work on my laptop, maybe I’ll do a short video so you guys can see me doing it live. 

Anyway, sorry this got long. :P

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 23.1)

I KNOW MY EDIT SUCKED. HEH. That’s my book cover in Wattpad. Couldn’t post CHAPTER 23.2 there because the application is glitching and I’m annoyed af. Anyway, enjoy this chapter for WOTN. 

CHAPTER 23

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Maybe a witch isn't the key for your getaway because it could be deeper than that.

Warnings: The summary sucked. I couldn't write anything to avoid spoilers. LMAO. Curses. Tybalt and Geralt banter/hate for each other? 😂 Rohesia is my OC, not connected to any of the games or books. The witcher character named Gerd (AHA. I'VE INTENTIONALLY DID THIS. Surprised to see a stomach sickness used as a name lmao jk 😂) from the Bear school has been used. Bethleheigm is also a made up kingdom from moi. 😂 (Pronounced as Beth-le-haym)

Words: 4.3k

A/N: I know Kaer Morhen is located in Kaedwen. Damn it. I lately knew it when I was already half way through this fic and I can't change it anymore. Let's just say...oof. They'll eventually go there. Don't worry. Oop. Is it a spoiler? 😭

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! I apologize for errors!

Disclaimer: PNG's and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. (Credits to the rightful owners of the gifs, it’s written in the lower part of their gifs. Though, some don’t. Still, credits to them. If you want it to be removed, just kindly message me) The edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. This has no connection towards the books or games.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

DAY THREE CAME QUICKLY THAN WHAT WAS EXPECTED. Taking the shorter route to keep the proximity of hours easier for traveling back faster to Kaedwen. Geralt and Tybalt had an allayed journey towards the outskirts of Bethleheigm.

If a narrator was utterly dramatic, he or she could say that the witcher was beyond exhausted over being with the higher vampire because he only knew how to gall him over and over---a deathless cycle through out their travel, side by side with their own horses and vexation over each other. Yet, Geralt rarely has given him his energy for a battle that was pathetic as it ends.

They've both shared a night somehow. Their backs meters away from each other. With Geralt and his sarcasm never shutting one's eye until Tybalt was cursing him out under the moon light because the white wolf warned him not to think about hunting people to quench his thirst for blood. The higher vampire was left throwing him a pebble on his back and muttering how the full moon won't be until the day of the feast in the castle where he would technically celebrate over being a vampire but this choice could also be eradicated since blood was not in the highest scale in his pyramid law of needs.

Nights weren't the only thing shared between the two. Unbeknownst to them till Geralt was humming in displeasure, they've actually shared a drink of your home made ale. Tybalt commented how it was as good as Kaedwenian stout---perhaps, even better. Mentioning that the beer was probably made of your love for him which made the witcher scrunch his nose for how cheesy it sounded. Tybalt even declared numerical reasons as to why he kept you with him until today because you knew how to make his drunkard self swoon over your culinary skills.

Your cookery abilities were still different and utmost impressive than Geralt's regardless of how he has been used to embellishing his own food alone before. His midget's skills were technically amazing, add up the peculiar recipes that only you know---but, actually existed in earth---your earth. Those recipes that could get his family and him included, humming in deliciousness because it was new for their taste buds.

They were ought to arrive at the abandoned house today. Side by side, Tybalt and Geralt silently rode on their horses. Both of them fed up at the opposite of every presence that galled them to the brim. The witcher blurting out his opinions very frankly at the scowling vampire who was acting like he wasn't there along the hunt.

"You should've just stayed in the castle and played with your army stocks," Geralt grumbled as he held onto Roach's reigns. Tybalt's advancements for what he has done to you never leaving his memories when he clearly remembered the causes about why he was hating him more than to drown in a monster's stinking guts.

"I should've stabbed yer' horse while we were travelling---or feed off to er' horse blood," Tybalt clapped back, sending the remark in the nonchalant way as possible with a sarcastic raise of his brows.

"Leave Roach out of this,"

"Gods, yer' such a strange one, Witcha'!"

The witcher's scowl was as nasty as an Alghoul's bum. Tybalt seemed to be thoroughly embittered for even tagging along with a cold heart that was grudging to even join his hunt. If it weren't for the queen's request, he would never even be within Geralt's area of personal space. Howbeit, people have been trying to frustrate him even more with their sudden decisions erupting from either sides, like a dormant volcano that no one expects to explode.

Grey undertoned house. Ramshackled from the roof till the decaying roots of stones stuck in between their spaces. Close enough to be dilapidated if a wolf would've tried blowing the house down---though, the three little pigs weren't inside for it to hunt. They were closing in towards their destination, Geralt was anticipating this point of their journey; to immediately seek for the witch and to come back sooner than expected.

Yet, his anticipation burned in disappointment by the familiar look of the house rooted in front of them.

He'd heard stories about this abandoned home in Bethleheigm through drunk men in the Inns. They were having a tete-a-tete that it was a boobey trap made by homeless pirates who hadn't gotten back to shore, concealing the home as a place for them to steal one's belongings until they were ripped off their coins. Some tattled that the house was a dragon's nest where a woman lived in and disguised as one that Geralt knew entirely as a bullshit rumor because no dragons would dare pick to stay in the middle of a forest where the house was the only home built through out the map.

The witcher jumped off his horse, hushing Roach down with a soft caress to her mane because she'd begun to neigh.

Tybalt couldn't help but cackle from how he was affectionately eyeing the horse as if she was his other half, "---I wouldn't be surprised if ye' bring yer' horse with ye' while you bed yer' little woman!" he outlaughed and had a hand on his clothed stomach, shaking his head from the witcher's strange gestures with everything.

"Hmm."

Geralt gave him the side eye, endlessly shooting daggers since the moment they bonded together. His comment receiving a lour from the brooding white wolf because of the baldy judgement said.

"Yer' grumpier than usual---like ye' have been in a fight with yer' current flame---is it the tiny lass, anotha' one of your sorceresses or princess?" the Upir quipped with a smirk, hopping off his own horse before giving the house a look. He seemed to waver with a clear of his throat.

Geralt disregarded his ridicule and question with a blessed silence, his mood turning sour from even mentioning you. The weccan's golden eyes scanned all over the tumbledown house, his amber narrowing as he examined what was expected to be a necromage's hideout that he has heard from one of the drunk men's gossips in the inns.

"This abandoned house," he gruffly started beneath his baritone, harsh breathing as Geralt huffed for his disappointment over the founded location. The bind he had with you turning heavier as days go by like he knew you were turning into a melancholic person due to his faults. Hence, it was keeping him more insane than he can ever be because he always seem to offer only mistakes towards his people---where they end up getting hurt because of him.

Which wasn't new in his life.

"---There is no hag in here. Only a Necromage I presume."

Tybalt walked several steps to stop beside Geralt, shrugging his fur-coated shoulders with a curl of his upper lip, "I told ye' to take the longer route. Right path, Witcha'."

"And I told that you are bringing us both in an early demise because Golems and Downers are bound to get in our way,"

The higher vampire kept his mouth shut after that, his foot tapping on the ground before he received a subtle warning of Geralt's glare. The witcher was right about it. Basically, Tybalt was trying to stall over their journey because he knew what exactly was the stratagem kept for a clandestine truth bound never to be known.

Geralt pushed his peculiar fidgets away as it was still sounding so loud with his heightened hearing. He narrowed his eyes upon the engraved words carved inside the four corners of a mettalic flattened surface stuck on the grimy, stoned walls.

"Thou who shall take a step, requires a fee for entrance and something valuable to heart in order to talk with death,"

He silently read the words inside his head. Considering the requests before slightly pursing his lips, the ends looking like a frown but was actually just irrespective of what he was currently thinking. The ramshackle home being surrounded by an invisible strong force field shielded for not any normal man could trespass in without the rules asked. Another form of magic that he knew---though, this wasn't just any simple sign. It was created by sorceresses or wizards to safeguard the whole home for decades end, not risking anyone to touch whoever was inside, like it was keeping something from entering the place.

Geralt gave Tybalt a look while the vampire continued to whistle along the winds, his arms crossed in front of his chest whilst checking his awfully long nails, intentionally ignoring his companion until the witcher tried to grab onto a rock, strongly throwing the stone towards his head until Tybalt used his abnormal abilities, instantly dodging the stone coming forth and sprinting beside Geralt in just a second to see him nodding his head for his crackerjack skills that he seldomly uses.

"Coins." the white haired weccan roughly stated before he heard Tybalt huff and grumble from his demands, giving his palm to him and expecting for a bag of coins to be placed on his hands.

"You have your own, Witcher."

Geralt cocked his head to the side with a feigned smile, shaking his head, "My coins will remain untouched. I'm not risking mine for favors asked."

"Fuck you and yer' coins. I hope you feckin' go slow and die as soon as you're done with us,"

In the end, Tybalt eventually had to fish out a bag of crowns inside his coat, begrudgingly dropping them off on the witcher's awaiting palm who has shrugged his broad shoulders for his easy submission. The words to the engraved poster switching to dust, swirling through the air, changing into an arrow pointing at a brick where Geralt had to slightly touch for it to be pushed back.

Thorny, earthy tone colored vines snaked their way out of the hole. The brick of the old house never being seen as the roots formed a symbol of two palms sticking together like it was asking for alms. Geralt placed the coins on the makeshift hand, slowly slithering its way back to its home.

The house was alive. He was sure of that when he felt the aegis slowly fading away. Its stone doors cracking to slide open for them to enter.

Tybalt hasn't moved a step from his side. He returned to crossing his fairly muscled arms, hearing hasty pads of footsteps shuffling from behind as Geralt halfly turned to see a Hirrika panting on his side, yelping as a way of his bark towards the witcher who had his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and stupefaction; stunned to see the familiar beast who has impressively found him despite of his long travel.

"Kolby."

"Your whore's feral pet," The Upir deadpanned, chuckling nasally like a sarcasm.

Tybalt heard a low growl coming the monster, his fangs shown to the vampire who he could sense and remember, his scent awfully making him remember how he'd hurt his master.

"Watch it." Geralt gruffly mumbled, giving Tybalt the side-eye as he tried monotonely hushing the rare beast like how he'd seen you soothe his annoyance or anger whenever Jaskier irritates Kolby.

"Down, Kolby. No teeth." he gruffly scolded with a raise of his palm.

The Hirikka chattered like a cat as he glared at Geralt's temporary companion, spinning on his own place before howling, his snout tilted at the sky as he yowled, the sound making him wince from how loud it was---too sensitive for his heightened hearing. Though, that didn't stop him from judging his gestures, noticing how he was jumping in his own spot whilst doe eyes stared back.

"He's saying something," the white wolf frankly stated, exhaling a languid breath through his nose because he couldn't understand what he wanted, "---Stay here and don't touch Roach or my Hirikka." he mentioned for Tybalt who appeared to be mentally finding their whole interaction as comedic. Geralt took a step forth, subtly leaving a pat on Kolby's head that eventually calmed him down, making him skip his paws to the side.

The Hirikka jumped to sit on his short tail, his knees bent and close to his chest as he silently watched Tybalt and Geralt conversing together with snarls and insensitive jests until the witcher finally moved away from him, bravefully entering the threshold.

"Where ye' going?" Tybalt called out and made him cease his steps, promptly giving the growling Hirikka his heed to see Geralt judging with his slightly entertained peepers, fighting off the curl of his lips because of how his Hirikka was making the higher vampire uneasy. He was agile but lacked knowledge over the beastiality of the continent. Probably, because of how he has been confined in the castle in an early age and known more politics and schemes more than the lore of monsters.

"To ask the Necromage about that witch,"

"Just like that?"

"She might know her whereabouts. Stay here if you don't want to get your vampire nails grimy,"

Tybalt cocked his head to the side, effusive of cursing out the witcher who had a smirk as he turned his back away from him, continuing his path around and ignoring his cavils.

"Why am I even following ye' around, Mutant?"

Geralt of Rivia entered the perimeters. His newly sharpened swords latched on his wide, broad back. Every step had his chest heavier than usual; bred-in-the-bone like he knew there was something happening to you back in the castle that he couldn't decipher and it made him scowl. The energy in the house even adding more of that deep-seated feeling---the home being cursed as well like some sort of magic was ceasing his advancements from talking to this person living inside.

The place wasn't ruined after all. It was all charmed and just a mere visionary trap or distraction that won't let people fall for even staying close to whoever was inside. Clean and utterly fixed, furnitures sat on their proper rooms which held up a second floor that Geralt didn't plan on exploring for as a presence could be felt while he stood in the middle of the kitchen.

"Hmm. Necromage,"

This person was a woman, Geralt silently stated the obvious inside his head. Her voice was tremulous and surprised to see a gigantuan man standing in the middle of her kitchen which she has never seen before in all her life.

"I am no Necromage," Rohesia calmly informed him, her heed turning distant from the mention, "She...has already died. Cristabell, My lady of the rarest in Bethleheigm---the only necromancer in this kingdom. May her soul rest in peace,"

"---You're the witcher." she paused, taking a gander and examining the white wolf before her. White hair falling on the tips of his shoulder blades. Gold eyes. A scowl prominent on his face. This was the witcher she has been warned about from both parties.

Geralt attempted a cynical smile, seeing that she held more lies and have been doing so for a lifetime, "There's no use of lying."

She was feeble. As old as Eanraig in terms of physical appearance but not his actual age since he was a scholar of the forest. The witcher held onto his medallion, seeming to feel no vibrations over his necklace that he strongly felt before the doors have been opened. His white and black spotted eyebrows furrowed for what singularity was happening.

This was supposed to be the Necromage. Yet, why does she felt human who had no magic to offer?

The hoary, old woman was not lying after all.

Rohesia forced to give him a small smile, walking past him to sit on one of the wooden, dining chairs. Gesturing her palm outwards for Geralt to take a seat that he simply answered with silence as he stood rooted on his spot, assessing what she truly was.

"I offer you no lies of secrecy. My mouth speaks nothing but the truth for I am just a mortal who thrives to live peacefully in the continent," she honestly answered his curiosity and judgements which made him nod at her uprightness---making his job easier for him.

The woman really was no necromage at all.

"A mortal who stands for her virtues. Hmm."

"Why are you here, Witcher?"

His glower was permanent even as he sauntered to where she was, standing upright and leaning a hand on the top portion of her dining chairs whilst he patiently explained.

"To find the hag who has cursed prince Althalos of Kaedwen."

Rohesia only offered a small, genuine smile. Her shaky laugh erupting through her chest because she knew this was the man who her former witcher and lover give fair warning to when the Kaedweni started their murdering plots upon fellow weccans who fall for their crimes. Vesemir never wanted to be involved with their delinquencies, explains his periodic leave in the kingdom---his constant visits for the woman seldomly occurring since Nilfgaard has attacked and conquered another domain after Cintra.

"Are you doing this because Vesemir has told you so?"

Geralt went on with his speechless talk, low humming followed suit for the flabbergast he felt over hearing his senior mentor in the art of their kind. The end of his lips subtly turning the opposite of a lour, relieved to suddenly hear his name through another person's mouth---a woman he probably had a relationship with; a former flame and mortal that Geralt least expect for Vesemir to entertain because of the conducts he had told him prior into becoming one skilled witcher.

It is that being involved with mortals and even having a soft spot in the job won't make them any better.

"Does he visit often?"

She ignored his question with a simple, wholehearted feeble laugh. Her circumvent obvious that Rohesia wanted not to talk about Vesemir after he has chosen to leave her for coins and another woman---another mortal years ago, thinking that because she aged badly was one of the reasons why he chose something better than to be with her. Hence, they were even known to be monsters of their own kind. Monsters who slay other beasts in exchange for coins. It was what she believed them to be---yet, she knew to herself that if Vesemir would come back to her, she would still accept him with all her mortal heart.

She dryly coughed, avoiding his eyes and covering her mouth with a tightened fist that Geralt quickly knew she was physically sick just by the looks of it.

"If you...still want to live and take your coin, turn back around and forget that you have stumbled upon this place forever."

The latter shook his head. Determined to find answers from this elderly human who knew his mentor and a fatherly figure he had been to his life. He believed Rohesia knew more than just Vesemir based on how she was trying to push him away.

"Where's the hag?"

"You cannot find the witch anywhere even out in Kaedwen, Geralt."

He was impressed. Geralt raised both of his eyebrows, pursing his lips with a tilt of his head that she knew his name regardless of not introducing himself yet.

"Vesemir has obviously told you more about me,"

She ignored his statement again, grabbing onto the ends of her dirty Tunic as she stood, saying her words firmly and with finality. Never knowing if her decision over dropping out hints would be good for her isolation from everyone---isolation and somehow imprisoned inside a house. The necromage being her sentinel, a guard given orders that she wouldn't escape and try to spill secrets that will ruin such plans. Howbeit, she still had high respects for Cristabell who had been too kind for her that she has brought Rohesia with her whenever she was out for some business.

"The witch you have been finding has been around the castle for decades."

Perhaps, it was time for the truth to set out free because Rohesia knew she had only weeks to live in the continent. Revenge pushing her through the decision she wanted for trying to keep her contained, watching her every move; ruining more of her wrecked life.

"I have been the queen's loyal servant. After she has given birth to Prince Althalos, he has already been cursed when he was a bairn." Pause. "---Sorceress Ingrith has managed to sneak into their quarters and cast the curse by whispering such spell and gaining a tiny drop of his blood. I've all seen her cantrips and heard them as I came back to guard the prince in his sleep. The wail of an offspring shall bring despair for the royal family,"

The sorceress' name felt like a crime to be told. Heaviness in her chest finally unleashing after decades of being caught up with the lies she was telling people who asked or went to gather information as to who has cursed the prince; finding the witch and ending up dying from the hands of her womanly guard. Cristabell recently died from the hands of the last witcher who she knew as Gerd, the necromage dying after their battle whilst she tried to fight for her cousin's trangression---continuing doing so for the sake of her selfish reasons.

"---She...she was also the king's mistress before the queen has given birth to Prince Althalos while she also gained her position. I may never know if it was made from jealousy over the queen's position. Though, it is their life that I promised to stay away from. Only sorceress Ingrith may reverse the curse or happen to know how,"

A beat of silence wrapped them both after Rohesia's candor. Geralt's mouth forming a deeper scowl than ever as he loudly sighed, languidly blinking in weary for being tricked by the sorceress and her right hand, Tybalt of Touissant. His jaw began to clench for who stood outside of the house, the higher vampire making him mad for leading him on circles---the cycle wouldn't have ended if he chose to go forth with his suggested path. It was why he was trying to lead him towards a swamp filled with monsters than the shorter route because the truth was with this rumored woman.

"Should've known."

He deeply grumbled begrudgingly, blaming himself for not thinking it through. His time wasted for you to be saved and taken out of the palace. If only he wasn't as pale as Ivory, his face would've been empurpled with fury for what they've made him appear to be---an idiot or for whatever bullshit they can call him.

"You're coming with me..." Geralt deeply said before he was cut off to her introduction of name.

"The name's Rohesia, Witcher."

He nodded back to the lady, going on with his ceased sentence with solicit, "---Back to the castle,"

Rohesia saw him walk closer to her, face to face with the infamous butcher she has heard tales about. The butcher of Blaviken who has managed to slaughter goons of Princess Renfri's hooligans and also earning another moniker of being a butcher of Ard Carraigh. Kaedwen's capital. The name would eventually spread throughout his kind because of how Kaer Morhen was close by. Her eyes catching onto the badge latched on the rain-guard of his sword.

"I have been told to never step foot again or I shall be put into death,"

"Do I need to beg for your compliance and offer protection?"

"What's in it for you and me?"

The witcher deeply sighed, shifting his amber away from her as Geralt looked withdrawn, his next words sounding like a mumble, dubious of his own bluntness. Disbelieving that he could hear his own voice say the words like an echo of his consciousness.

"You get to save the castle from anguish," pause. "---and you get to save the life of someone dear to me,"

"A woman I assume---your woman," Rohesia sounded so surprised, staring him down in incredulity, "---Is she royal? another sorceress too? a mutant?"

"A mere...mortal," he hesitated to honestly say, his eyes filled with a memory he truly can't forget. Your skeptical voice stuck inside his head when he remembered the first time he met you till the moment you told him how you suited to be a queen.

Geralt clearly remembered his reaction and teasing reply. Telling you how you suited more to be called a midget. His midget. Yet, now you were being treated like his queen where he would kiss the ground you walk on no matter how in denial he gets.

"---Perhaps...a queen to her kingdom in her rightful dimension," he was caught in his train of thoughts, never seeing the stupefaction in Rohesia's eyes over what dimension he meant---having no clue for his words. She could see what Vesemir once was like until life has ruined everything for her, including the sorceress corrupting and controlling the people and castle of Kaedwen.

"Learning to love doesn't suit your kind, Witcher."

"It's because it isn't what you think it is."

Rohesia shook her head for his lies, he was thoroughly unaware of the feelings sipping through his words once he mentioned you. This witcher believed that he wasn't capable to love nor emit feelings just like how her previous lover have been. A typical characteristic of his own kind. Denial and the feeling of being unworthy of recognizing such emotion was making him sound insensitive. But, people who could read others can see through him regardless of how he tries not to, "Deny it all you want. To us humans, it is. Love as many people assume."

"---you're still human after all. As far as I believe for your kind, Geralt of Rivia. Sorceress Ingrith might be glad to see me again soon---I hope."

Don’t hesitate to message me if you don’t want to be included in the taglist anymore, bb’s. I won’t be mad. Thank you. 

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[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || Also on AO3

Chapter 48: Sasha

“Yes, of course. I’ll—I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Sasha disconnects the call and stares at her cell phone for a long moment. She’s worked at the Magnus Institute for almost seven years now, been in the Archives for almost two. She honestly thought she’d lost the ability to be afraid of anything the mundane world could dish up anymore.

But that phone call…

“You okay, Sash?” Melanie’s voice seems to be coming from a long distance away.

With difficulty, Sasha pulls herself together and looks up. It’s just the two of them in the Archives right now, since Martin and Tim are both at lunch; Melanie’s already taken hers, and Sasha will go as soon as one of the others gets back. She’s not really hungry anymore, though.

“I’m fine,” she lies, then stops. They’re trying, they’re all making the effort not to lie to one another or downplay when things are bad. Tim and Martin both know her well enough to call her on it when she does it, and they’re also connected to the Eye well enough to be able to at least get a sense when she does. Melanie doesn’t and isn’t, and it’s not fair to her to keep her in the dark. “It’s my uncle.”

Something in Melanie’s face shifts, and she half-closes her laptop. “Is he sick?”

“No—I don’t know. He just said he has something he needs to talk to me about in person. They’re making an exception for me to come see him today.” Sasha rubs her forehead. “That’s not normal, Mel.”

“O…kay,” Melanie says slowly. “You usually…can’t visit him whenever you want? What, is it a prison or something?”

Sasha winces, remembering that Melanie wasn’t part of the team when she told them. “Yes, actually. He’s in HMP Pentonville.”

Melanie covers her mouth with a hand. “Oh, God, Sasha, why didn’t you shut me up? My big mouth—”

“It’s fine. You didn’t know.” Sasha manages a smile. “But yeah. I don’t know what he’s in for, but if he wants to see me today, and they’re letting me…whatever’s going on can’t be good.”

“Can you, like—” Melanie wiggles her fingers in the universal gesture of mystical bullshit. “—Know what it is?”

“I mean…maybe? I’m trying really hard not to use that outside of…you know, work. I don’t want to risk falling too deeply into it, or—or hurting myself, or someone else.” Sasha sighs. “I think it might be too far away, though. Honestly, I think the only way to find out what’s going on is to go out there myself.”

“Go out where?”

The voice makes both Sasha and Melanie jump. She looks up quickly to see Martin coming towards them, a bag of leftovers dangling from one hand. He looks about like he’s looked since Jon left—tired, worried, and faintly stressed. “Martin, Jesus. Heard from Jon yet?”

“Yeah, did you not see the text?” Martin frowns at her slightly. “I thought he sent it to the group chat.”

Now that she thinks about it, Sasha remembers hearing a slight beep while she was on her phone call, but she didn’t think about it twice. She checks her phone and sees two new texts—one from Jon saying he was changing buses, one from Tim asking what he was changing them into. Rolling her eyes fondly, she sets it down. “No, I—I was on the phone. My uncle called. He wants to see me today.”

“Oh.” Martin’s expression is one of mingled sympathy and concern. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know. That’s what we were talking about. I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t want to…you know.” Sasha makes the same gesture Melanie made a few moments ago.

Martin nods in understanding. “Did you have anything time-sensitive you were doing today?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Then I don’t think Jon would mind you taking the rest of the day off. I know you won’t be able to get to Pentonville and back in the span of your lunch break, and this seems…kind of important.” Martin reaches over and squeezes Sasha’s hand gently. “Let us know if you need anything.”

Sasha smiles and squeezes back. “Thanks, Martin. I’ll keep you all posted.”

An hour later, she’s seated in a room at the prison, jiggling her foot nervously and waiting. It’s one of the small, private rooms usually set aside for attorneys to consult with their clients, which is unusual; normally she has to conduct her visits in a loud, noisy room with a Plexiglas divider between them. A private conversation, on a weekday, out of the clear blue sky? Either something has gone terribly wrong or she’s been lied to.

There’s a familiar whirring sound, and Sasha reaches into her pocket to pull out the tape recorder. She very most definitely did not have this with her when she left; she shut it in her desk drawer before heading out, and it hadn’t been in her pocket when they searched her. She hopes she won’t get in trouble for having it.

As the thought crosses her mind, the door opens and, with a clank of chains, a figure is escorted in. A gruff voice instructs her to buzz for help if there’s an issue, and then the door closes and leaves the two of them alone together.

There’s another clank as the man leans forward, smiling hopefully. “Sasha.”

Sasha smiles back, genuinely pleased but worried at the same time. “Hello, Uncle Wade.”

The family resemblance between them is obvious. Both of them have the same facial structure, the same shape to their eyes, the same skin tone. They’d looked enough alike once to switch places, when Sasha was eighteen and going through a phase and shaved her head. Now, though, after almost a decade in prison, Wade Copper looks old enough to be her father—gaunt, thin, his once-dark hair almost solid grey despite the fact that he’s only in his mid-forties. Every time she’s seen him, he’s tried to smile for her, tried to stay cheerful as he asks about her work, tried to convince her things aren’t so bad for him, but she knows. She can see the weight of imprisonment bearing him down.

Today, though, is different. Today his eyes are sparkling, his smile seems real, and he seems to be barely keeping something contained. She has no idea what it is, but it seems like he’s…excited.

Sudden panic strikes her, and she very quickly throws up those mental blocks Jon Prime has been teaching them. The absolute last thing she wants is to take the surprise away from the man who’s had so few to give her over the years.

“Is everything okay?” she asks instead. “You said we needed to talk and—”

“No, no, everything’s fine. Everything’s fine,” Wade assures her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to scare you. I just had some news for you. It could have—are you on your lunch break? Do we need to—”

“I took the afternoon off. My boss is out of town at the moment, so the three—well, the four of us, we’ve got a new coworker—we’re sort of running things ourselves. When the others found out you wanted to talk to me, they suggested I just call it a day. We’ve got all the time in the world.” Sasha smiles. “What’s going on?”

Wade’s smile broadens. “I’m coming home.”

It takes Sasha a second to process that, and then she sits up straighter. “You’re getting released?”

“I heard back from the parole board this morning. I didn’t tell you I was going up because I didn’t want to get your hopes up, but I had the hearing a few weeks ago. Today I got word that they’ve decided I’m a good candidate for release.”

“That’s—that’s wonderful!” Sasha says.

Wade’s smile slips, just a little. “You don’t sound so sure about that. What’s the matter, Puddle-Duck?”

It’s been forever and a day since he called her that—an old family nickname bestowed on her after her favorite bedtime story, the one she used to beg to be read over and over. She’d trailed after her Uncle Wade “like a little duckling” from the time she could walk, and the “duckling” nickname had eventually morphed into Puddle-Duck. He hasn’t used it since she was about twelve, though, and hearing it now almost makes her cry.

“Nothing,” she says, unconvincingly. “It’s just—there’s a lot going on. That’s all.”

“I won’t be an imposition,” Wade says earnestly. “I’ve managed to save up a bit while I’ve been in here from the work I’ve been doing in the prison library. I should be able to get a place. I won’t be in your way—”

“No, it’s not that at all!” Sasha feels horribly guilty. “I’d be happy to have you stay with me. Of course I would. I’ve got loads of space and—and I’ve missed you so much. It’s just that…”

It’s just that the world might end in a year if they can’t stop it. It’s just that she’s trying to figure out a way to pretend to stop a ritual that she knows won’t succeed even if they do nothing without letting the man who does have a ritual that will work know she knows it. It’s just that she’s developing incredibly invasive psychic powers and doesn’t know if she can live with another person who doesn’t know about it. It’s just that the world is objectively terrifying and she doesn’t know if she can lie about it to the only family she has left or let him believe he’s safe.

“It’s just that there’s been a lot going on in the world since you’ve been in here,” she finally says. “I—I worry that you might—that it might be a lot for you to adjust to.”

“Hey, I raised you, didn’t I?” Wade teases. “If I can handle losing my sister and my parents in one fell swoop, especially to…that, and then turn a six-year-old into a relatively functional adult despite barely having passed my A-levels when I started, I think I can handle anything the world thinks it can throw at me. Bring it on.”

Sasha’s whole body tingles. She clasps her hands together tightly to hide the shaking and focuses very hard on that mental block. There’s something there. A secret. A story. Something in the way he said that has the Eye’s attention and it wants to use her. She can’t let it, she can’t…

“Sasha? Sasha, what’s wrong? Are you—Christ, I’m sorry.” Wade reaches for her hands, manacles jangling, then grunts as the chain binding him to the table stops them halfway. “I shouldn’t have brought that up, I shouldn’t have—are you still having that nightmare?”

Sasha can’t help the slightly brittle laugh that escapes her lips. “I don’t have room for my own nightmares anymore, Uncle Wade. Especially ones in red-on-black binary.”

Wade frowns at her in evident confusion. “What do you mean? Who else’s nightmares would you have?”

Shit, Sasha thinks. “It’s a long story. And I don’t think you’d believe it.”

“It’s you, Sash. I’d believe you if you said the sky was green. Anyway, after what I’ve seen, trust me, there’s not much that’s unbelievable.”

Sasha looks hard at her uncle, then glances at the recorder, spinning away. She should have known. Should have realized that if it’s turning on, there’s something he’s seen. He’s been touched by one of the Fears. And she can’t—she can’t—

“It’s got to do with work,” she finally says. “Part of the Archive job—when I, when I listen to people tell me about something they’ve encountered or seen or, or done, if it’s something that really happened…I end up dreaming about it. I’ve only got a couple, but…it does mean I haven’t had any dreams of my own since I started doing that.”

Wade blinks at her. Softly, he says, “So it is real. I knew it.”

“What, the paranormal?”

“Not just that.” Wade hesitates. “I never—I never told you how I wound up here, did I?”

“No, just—you said it was something to do with you hacking into something you shouldn’t have,” Sasha says slowly. “You never explained.”

“Truthfully, I never fully understood it much beyond what I told you. I don’t even know exactly what I did hack into,” Wade says, a bit ruefully. “I suppose it was the culmination of a project, in a sense, but—it wasn’t intentional.”

“What do you mean?”

Wade takes a deep breath. “The short version? I was hunting a computer virus, trying to trace where it came from. I suppose the path led through something I shouldn’t have been looking at and I got arrested. It fell enough under the Official Secrets Act that they could justify locking me up for it. But I swear, Sash, just like I’ve been telling everyone for years, I wasn’t hacking for secrets. I was trying to save lives.”

“I believe you,” Sasha says, because she does. If there’s anyone in the world she trusts completely, it’s her uncle. And really, this is the most mundane thing she’s been asked to believe in ages. “I just don’t—I don’t understand how tracing a computer virus can save lives. Unless it was infecting hospital computers or something like that.”

“No, that would have made sense.” Wade sighs. “Computer viruses aren’t supposed to be able to infect humans, but…this one did. O-or something like that. I honestly don’t know how to explain it, but…well, if working at that institute of yours is giving you other people’s nightmares, maybe you’ll know better than I do.” He ponders for a moment. “That’s probably a big part of why I got locked up, honestly. I couldn’t explain why I was hunting the computer virus without sounding insane, so I didn’t try. I mean, what was I supposed to say? ‘Yes, Your Honor, I wasn’t even aware of what system I was in, I was just looking for the origin of a bit of coding that killed my entire family’?”

Sasha freezes. The static in her mind gets louder and more insistent. “I don’t understand,” she says with difficulty, rather afraid that she does. He’s right, computer viruses aren’t supposed to infect humans, so if one did…it must belong to one of the Fears. She just can’t imagine which one.

Wade hesitates. “I—I don’t—Sasha, Puddle-Duck, if you don’t—you don’t remember what happened, do you?”

“To Mum and Dad? No.” The doctor said it was to be expected; she was six years old at the time, and it had been a rough experience. She had blacked out most of it, and honestly a lot of her memories from before that point as well. She remembers huddling in a closet with her teddy bear clutched tightly to her chest, hearing her uncle screaming her name, clinging to him tightly after he found her, both of them sobbing as he promised over and over that he would protect her, that he would never leave her, but for the life of her, she can’t remember what she was hiding from. The nightmare she had for years, one that made her wake up screaming almost until she left for uni, hadn’t been specific. She just remembers strings of ones and zeros in constantly shifting columns, blood-red on a black background, scrolling past her vision, but something in the code is terrifying and wrong…

“I don’t want you to have those nightmares.” Wade reaches for her hands again, looking conflicted. “You deserve to know, but…but if your job means that if people tell you those stories, you’ll dream about them too—I’ve had to train myself out of waking up screaming. It’s bad. I don’t want to do that to you, too.”

“It’s not—it’s not exactly like that.” Sasha wonders how to phrase it, then decides, to hell with it. He says he’ll believe her. She might as well tell the truth. It’s not like they’re being recorded by anything other than the spooling tapes, and there aren’t exactly eyes around for Elias to watch through, as far as she knows. She takes her uncle’s hands. “There’s a being���a thing that thrives on fear. I mean, there are a lot of them, but there’s one in particular that lives off of the fear of—of knowledge and secrets being exposed and being watched and all that.”

Wade gives a bitter laugh. “It must love prisons then.”

“In fact, the Institute is built over the remains of the old Millbank Prison, probably right where Smirke was testing out the panopticon design. And that’s the thing. The Institute…kind of belongs to that being. Which means I do, too.” Sasha takes a deep breath. “Sometimes I can—I can tell secrets without trying. I’m not right now,” she adds hastily. “I’ve been working on not…accidentally reading people’s minds or whatever. But the other part of it is the statements. When people tell us their stories and we dream about them? We’re not taking the place of the person dreaming about them. We’re…watching, I guess. Observing. We’re just…there.” She squeezes Wade’s hands. “So if you tell me, Uncle Wade, and I do end up sharing your nightmares, maybe it’ll be better. Because then you won’t have to look at them alone.”

Wade stares at her for a long moment, then nods slowly. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay. I’ll tell you. You need to know, anyway.”

Sasha smiles, as reassuringly as she can, and glances at the tape recorder. “Do you want to make this…official? I can do, um, I can do the whole spiel we do at the Institute. Put it on the record. We can do some research, maybe.”

“Will it help?”

“It might.”

“Then…okay. Lay it on me.”

Sasha puts the tape recorder between them and takes her uncle’s hands again. Clearly, she says, “Statement of Wade Copper, regarding a murderous computer virus. Recorded direct from subject, twenty-first March, 2017.” She nods at her uncle. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Wade swallows. “Right. Well, you know I’ve always been into computers. I loved coding and programming and seeing what I could do. One of my favorite things to code up were the games, especially interactive fiction. I subscribed to a couple magazines where people would publish the codes for games they’d developed, and I would put them in and play them. I owned a couple that I bought commercially, too. One of the ones I had that I was most excited about was The Hound of Shadows. The story sounded right up my alley—a proper creepy one—but it turned out to have one of the worst parsers I’ve ever seen, and I struggled to finish it. I was crushed.

“I was looking around for something that was like that but…better? Tried my hand at coding it myself, but you know me, I’ve never been all that at coming up with a story of my own. Did a couple reasonably decent games based on a few of the stories I liked, but it wasn’t the same. Around the time I was finishing up my A-levels, some classmates and I were talking about interactive fiction, and I was complaining about Hound. That’s when one of my mates told me about a game he’d recently come across. He said he couldn’t finish it because it was too scary for him, but he thought I’d like it. It was called The Conqueror Worm.”

As he talks, Wade’s eyes go vacant and his shoulders slack; it’s like the words are pouring out of him independent of his will. Sasha never takes her eyes off him. The story fills her the same way Basira’s did, the same way Tim and Martin’s tale of the Not-Them did, the same way that man with the dog’s story did last week. She’s just aware enough of the situation to feel guilty about it, but she can’t stop him now if she tries.

“I managed to get my hands on a copy,” Wade continues. “As soon as I’d finished my exams, but while I was still waiting for the results to come back, I loaded it up on our computer. My friend was right—it was exactly what I was looking for. Interactive fiction. According to the cover, it was ‘loosely’ based on the Edgar Allan Poe poem, which I’d never heard at that point, but if it was Poe I knew it’d be spooky. The story was wonderful, the parser was the best I’d ever seen. Sometimes it was like talking to a real person—like that one Sergey Ushanka bot you and I spent the evening with when you were eight, you remember?” Sasha nods. “Anyway, I was really into it. The idea was that you were the manager of a theater that was putting on a new play, but something was trying to sabotage it, something inhuman and unholy. Started off normal enough, got creepy right fast. I had this constant sense of creeping dread. I loved it.

“The weird thing about this one, though, was that every so often you’d start to do something and suddenly three pixels would turn red. Always three, two in one row and one in between them in the row immediately above or below, and then they’d switch places a few times before disappearing. At first I thought it was a glitch. Then I realized it was intentional, that it was something to do with commands. I finally figured out that if the pixels appeared, you’d done something right.

“I started tracking the commands and decisions that got the wiggling pixels to appear, then started doing them more. Better. Started getting two, three, four at a time. I was sure it meant I was going to win. By the time I got to ‘opening night’ of the play, I could generally make upwards of ten appear every time I made the right choices.  The thing is that ‘opening night’ was the big climax of the game, and there was only one command you could type: ‘The Show Must Go On’. Once you typed that, the play started and you watched to see if you got it right. You wanted to see the ‘play’, but I knew it was a horror game, so I told you to let me watch it first, and if it wasn’t too scary, you and I would play on Saturday. You pretended to accept that, but I knew you were angry. I could hear you yelling halfway across the house. At the time, I kind of thought it was funny, actually.”

Sasha vaguely remembers this now. She was bitterly disappointed—Uncle Wade always let her “help” with his games—so she waited until she was out of the room, then stomped off to the living room where her parents and grandparents were playing a card game and loudly declared that he was the meanest meanie to ever mean. Her mother laughed and said he was always like that, and her grandfather swept her onto his lap and offered to let her be his partner, until…

“What happened then?” she asks.

Wade takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I typed in the command, and I watched. The ‘play’ started, and…there was a voice. Reciting a poem. I guess it was the Poe poem. The ‘actors’ were performing along to the words, but then I noticed the wiggling pixels. One by one, slowly at first, then more and more. They started in the corners, then gradually started moving inwards. But see, amid the mimic rout, a crawling shape intrude. While I was watching, the wiggling pixels crept in an ever-increasing wave towards the ‘stage.’ That’s when I realized it was all the ones I’d been rewarded with for making the right choices. The voice got louder and more desperate-sounding, and then the pixels—I finally realized they were supposed to be worms—swarmed the ‘actors’ and…the screen went red, and then it went black. All the while the voice was still talking. And then it was just the black screen, with the text in blood red, appearing as the voice spoke the words.”

He swallows hard. “I—I looked up the poem. Later. It’s a real poem, ‘The Conqueror Worm’. The plot does follow the…events of the final scene of the game, up to a point. It’s a play, and then a worm—or in the game’s case, many worms—shows up and eats all the actors. The last four lines are…chilling.” He closes his eyes and recites, “And the angels, all pallid and wan, / Uprising, unveiling, affirm / That the play is the tragedy ‘Man,’ / And its hero the Conqueror Worm.”

A chill runs up Sasha’s spine. “I know that poem. He used it in ‘Ligeia’.”

“Maybe. But what got me…what really spooked me at the time, was that the words on the screen weren’t…right. I didn’t know that at the time. I thought it odd. But the voice spoke them, exactly as they appeared on the screen. Instead of ‘The play is the tragedy “Man”’…it said, ‘The play is the tragedy “Guy Copper.”’ The voice even said Dad’s name. I remember thinking that was a creepy coincidence. And then…”  Wade takes another deep breath, and there are tears in his eyes. “I heard a noise from another room, like someone shouting. I turned to look, and when I turned back, the words were changing, morphing almost. Computers didn’t work like that back then, Sash, the graphics weren’t—I know you know that. But it was like the name blurred. And then the voice said those four lines again, but with the new name. And the angels, all pallid and wan, / Uprising, unveiling, affirm / That the play is the tragedy ‘Mary Copper,’ / And its hero the Conqueror Worm.”

The memories are starting to come back. A red wash fills her mind, then the screaming, then her mother pushing her away…oh, God. “And the next name—the next name was ‘Marjorie James’?”

“Yes,” Wade whispers. “And that’s when the screaming started. I was screaming, too. I was—I was convinced it was the game, that it was—I kept hitting keys, backspacing over and over, typing EXIT and hitting the Escape key and—nothing worked. It shifted from Margie’s name to Hugh’s, and…I thought about how many worms had been on the screen, how many ‘successes’ I thought I’d had, and I was suddenly terrified. It started to change again, and I—I dove under the table and I pulled the plug. The sound died. The light died. The screaming stopped, all at once.

“I went running and—and I found them. Mum and Dad, Margie and Hugh, all sprawled around the card table. They were all dead. They were—they were full of worms, Sasha. Blood-red ones. I didn’t know if they’d been red before they…” Wade inhales shakily and looks away. The tears are rolling down his face now. “I called 999, I was trying to tell them what had happened, but—but then I realized I couldn’t find you. I shouted at the poor woman to hurry and I dropped the phone and went looking for you. I was terrified that I’d been too late…but there you were, hiding in my closet with your teddy bear. You had blood on your arms and chest, but you weren’t hurt, and I—oh, God, Sasha. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sasha whispers. “It’s not. I wish—I’m so sorry, Uncle Wade.”

They both cling to each other’s hands for a moment, crying silently. Finally, Wade takes a deep breath and frees one hand to wipe his eyes. “Anyway, that’s…I couldn’t really explain it to people when they showed up. Just that I’d heard screaming and…the worms were gone by then, but it was obvious. I told a few lies about how old I was and managed to get them to let me take care of you instead of putting you in a home, and for a while everything was fine. Then…just after you left for uni, I was debugging a computer for someone who’d downloaded a game off an FTP server and picked up some sort of virus. When I went into the code, I discovered a secondary virus underneath the main one and went to dig it out. I thought it was a dead-man switch of some kind—you know, remove the main virus, trigger the second one—so I was going to take that one out first. But then I realized it was just some metadata. I would have just deleted it without a second thought, except that I recognized the words. It was those same four lines, the last lines of ‘The Conqueror Worm’, except that it had a name I didn’t know as the name of the ‘play’.”

Another chill runs up Sasha’s spine. “You’re sure you didn’t know it?”

“I didn’t, but my client did. I asked him about it when I gave him his computer back, and he said it was his girlfriend’s name, she was out of town on a trip. I told him to give her a call, and he looked at me kind of funny, but said he would.” Wade sighs. “I looked her up a couple times. Two days later her obituary popped up.”

“You’re saying—”

“I’m saying that once is happenstance, twice is coincidence. But I kept my eyes open, and a few months later, I saw the words again. Different computer, different name, same results,” Wade tells her. “I started tracing it. It’s a—well, it’s a worm, in the truest sense of the word, but I was sure if I could trace its path, figure out where it came from, I could stop it from spreading. Seven or eight years ago, though, I…guess I went through something I wasn’t supposed to, got caught, and wound up here.” He sighs heavily and sits back, blinking. “And…that’s it. I still call it the Conqueror Worm, but…I couldn’t stop it. It’s still out there.”

“I don’t think you can stop it,” Sasha says slowly. Several things slot into place in her mind. When Tim looked at all of them and described the colors he saw on them, he’d mentioned that Sasha had the same sick yellow-green as Martin and Jon Prime faintly woven over her upper torso, but she had just assumed it was from her encounter with Timothy Hodge, the first night she met Michael. Now she realizes the mark he described is too big to be from a single worm, and that the Corruption marked her much more thoroughly than that. She might have to get Tim to take a look at the tape now that she’s made it, but…she’s pretty sure she’s right.  “I think this thing came from—from one of the other fear beings. I’d have to look in the Archives to see if there’s a way to destroy it. There might be, I don’t know. But I do know that you wouldn’t have been able to destroy it on your own. Not without succumbing to the power that it fuels.”

“Sash.” Wade grips her hand tightly. “Are you in danger? If you…belong to one of these powers. Will it hurt you?”

“Maybe. Probably,” Sasha admits. “Someday. I don’t know. It’s—it’s all a bit complicated. I don’t know for sure.” She pauses and reconsiders. “I don’t think it will actively hurt me. But I don’t think it cares if I live or die, in the long run.”

Wade’s face was a study in fear and sorrow. “And it’s from working at the Magnus Institute,” he says. It’s not really a question. “You never would have done that if it wasn’t for me. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know about that,” Sasha says. “Maybe. Maybe not. My project with the EPCC was shutting down anyway, so I don’t know where I would have ended up, but the Magnus Institute was hiring. Maybe I wouldn’t have stayed as long as I did, maybe I’d have looked for another job outside of London eventually, but…honestly, Uncle Wade, as much as I’ve always loved snooping and ferreting out secrets? I think I would have ended up bound to it anyway. At least this way I kind of know what’s going on enough to mitigate the damage.”

Wade shakes his head slowly. “I just…don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” Sasha promises, even though she knows she can’t really promise that. But he’s all the family she has left, he gave up his future so that she could have one, and she’ll do anything she can to make sure she doesn’t waste that. “I’ll tell you everything when you come home. When will that be?”

“Two weeks. The first of April. Is that enough time for—I mean, will you be okay if I—”

“Yes,” Sasha interrupts him. “Of course. Tell me what you need and I’ll get it all set up.”

Wade smiles slowly, the hopeful look back in his eyes. He laces his fingers through hers and squeezes.

“We’ll be all right,” he tells her. “Family looks out for each other. I promise, Puddle-Duck, I will do anything I can to protect you.”

Sasha smiles back and returns the squeeze. She doesn’t tell her uncle that she’s grown up a little beyond his ability to protect her, or that she might need to be the one protecting him. Right about now, she really wants to let him wrap her in a blanket and a hug and promise her that everything will be all right again.

She might even let herself believe him.

[herotheshiro]

alrighty i used to try to find posts to reblog with my review but now that tumblr has this new system of notifying the op with all the tags, i don’t want to spam someone with my hella long tags lol. so now i have to stick with this system of shitty-quality cover pic + my review in an original post for all reviews now lol

anyway. just read 3-chapter oneshot kokuhaku no jikan by tsubasa yamaguchi which is actually by the same mangaka of blue period fame. i had heard from my sibling that she had done a shounen ai but didn’t look it up so i was taken by surprise when i opened this newly uploaded manga to one of the sites i check; the art looked so familiar but there was no other works by them on the site and then i realized the art was familiar bc the art here is a rougher version of the pretty art you see posted across tumblr/twitter for blue period lol. anyway enough abt the art

rough summary of story: 2 high school boys’ paths cross one day bc of a relay race they both join. they become close romantically and they eventually decide they’re going to confess to each other to make it official (this is explicitly discussed bw the 2 of them). the day of this planned confession, one of them (urashima) gets into a non-fatal accident and the other guy (imada) confesses to him at his bedside. imada returns the next day and turns out urashima’s memory now resets every 24 hours post-accident -- so he remembers everything up until the accident but not afterwards. imada decides to confess to him every day to remind urashima they’re lovers but eventually this repetition with essentially no reward begins to take its toll...

i actually really liked this story tbh. i think it’s a very straight-forward story but also is complex at the same time (if that makes sense) -- it’s basically 2 guys trying to communicate but there’s an exterior issue causing their miscommunication. it’s such a standard story but this case is refreshing bc 1. the 24hr memory reset is believable. there are differences bw long-term and short-term memory retention and i’ve heard of illnesses/neuroses where ppl can’t retain memories irl so this whole thing isn’t entirely pulled out of the author’s ass and 2. the miscommunication issue is very much due to an external issue and not them jumping through fucking mental hoops to convince themselves to not see the situation accurately. i did read through the story pretty quick so tbh i didn’t really absorb too much abt how the author presented their conflict, but i think the obstacles that get in their way and the way these two high-schoolers respond to those obstacles are very believable.

the story also progresses well too: beginning with them in their own little world and then eventually outside forces along with time question their relationship which then makes them question themselves. i don’t think anything got elongated uncomfortably and it follows the standard story conflict progression (initial problem presented, things pile up until conflict comes to a head, conflict then solution, then coast to the ending) with each event/plot point transitioning well into each other. the ending of them proposing to each other isn’t anything new, a standard dramatic romantic end -- dramatic bc like uh you’re high schoolers, how can you possibly dedicate your lives to one another already but i mean they’re going through this whole situation with one of them literally having a memory loop and yet still love each other at the end -- imada has already proven himself to be willing to dedicate himself to urashima regardless of what happens so.

anyway it’s technically kind of a sad story since in the end, urashima prob won’t be able to really retain memories past 24hr well into the future, but it was still good bc urashima does still have the memories of their burgeoning relationship and they’re together in the end with the ring reminder for him daily. i think it would’ve been REAL emo if they made it so that urashima didn’t have memories of their burgeoning relationship so imada had to help him fall in love with him over and over, but i think them having that initial foundation made the story believable/more straightforward and the ending hopeful rather than bittersweet.

tl;dr is that the story was well-done, nice and simple but also complex enough to not be boring. i don’t think the premise is that unique, like i’ve read stories of ppl forgetting their lovers and so the lover has to work to be with them again, but this story did that premise very well and in a believable way without having to really get into under-developed details. the author is good with expressing emotions through body language/facial expressions too. it’s a cute story that provides both conflict and sweet stuff with a happy ending.

side note but i’ve been wanting to read blue period for a while, and this honestly has incentivized me to actually go and pick it up. this work is obviously one of the author’s early works if the art wasn’t obvious enough, and surely she’s polished up her writing and art skills in the time since so i can see why ppl would be into blue period past its messages about the struggles of doing and pursuing art. i’m looking forward to it!

[creepy-carrion]

Unwind | Jay Merrick x Reader

College AU or pre-MH college stuff. Whichever you prefer. Some fluffy stuff for a good boye who deserves better <3 reupload, hopefully tumblr knows how to function like a website one day

Taglist: @just-a-creep-babe​ (it’s ur fault i love jay so much anyways smh)

Mother Nature was a cruel, unforgiving force. She could make the earth tremble with her mighty earthquakes, she could make volcanos erupt and swallow up entire cities, and she could make it pour just when you got your Starbucks order. The latter you were most familiar with.

With a heavy sigh, you closed the door to the dorms behind you, dripping a puddle of rainwater on the floor below. At least the cups of coffee were somewhat saved by your body and your jacket, but you on the other hand? You could take a shower right now and come out dryer than you did going in.

Oh well. Your boyfriend could probably provide you with a few towels, and your beverage could warm you back up.

As you started moseying on up the stairs, you felt a single raindrop trickle down your neck into your shirt, making you shudder. Now that your body was getting used to the warmth of the dorm complex, you started noticing how icy cold the rain actually was. You reached Jay’s room pretty quickly and knocked on the door shakily, trying to ignore the icky sensation of your clothes sticking to your skin. Hopefully this wouldn’t develop into a cold.

It took Jay a while to open the door. You were almost afraid he wasn’t home, or worse, finally getting some damn rest. You didn’t exactly tell him you were coming by. But soon enough you heard the door creak open, and Jay’s tired eyes peered through the small opening.

“... (Y/n)? Wait, hold on- What happened to you?” You couldn’t help but snort as he opened the door for you completely and scurried over to his bathroom to get you a towel. “Nothing. C’mon, it’s just rain. I got you cof- holy shit, Jay.”

You knew Jay tended to get stressier and messier as soon as midterms started approaching, but you’d never seen his apartment in its current state. Come to think of it, it was maybe because he usually managed to make you avoid his apartment around exam week.

There were about three trees worth of paper sprawled over the floor, whether they were crumpled up pages ripped from notebooks, exercise sheets or books. His sheets were messy, there was dirty laundry everywhere... It was like a mad bull had rampaged through his room.

“I would’ve cleaned if you told me you were coming over.” he muttered, turning away to hide his (presumably) embarrassed expression from you. He probably would’ve just kicked his belongings under the bed, anyways. Jay didn’t like to make you worry, even if it was just stress over midterms, but you knew him better than that.

“Alrighty. You know what I’m gonna ask, right?” Your hand unceremoniously shoved a bunch of papers aside, making place for the coffees. Jay didn’t need to be asked to know what you meant. “I last showered yesterday, I swear, it’s not that bad.” Lifting your eyebrows at him, you crossed your arms over your chest. “When the three options are last meal, last sleep and last shower, it’s usually not a good sign for the other two when you start with your last shower.”

Jay sighed through his nose, biting his lip. It was like your eyes pierced through his mind, right into his soul sometimes. It was almost uncanny.

“Last meal was yesterday too.” Both your heads instinctively turned to the plastic bag from a local Chinese restaurant you both liked to get takeout from sitting in the hallway. You assumed there were still leftovers in the fridge, but he didn’t get to having any today.

“Jay...” A sigh escaped you as you started walking towards him. “I know...” You didn’t even bother to ask him about his sleeping schedule. Judging from the purple crescents beneath his eyes, he had not been getting much sleep at all.

“I would tell you why it’s important to eat and sleep well before exams, again, but you already know. But the first thing we are going to do is stop thinking about whatever you got coming up, okay?” you hummed, vaguely gesturing to the pile of books on his desk. “Then, we are going to lay down and do nothing. You need a break.” “But I can’t just-” “Shush. I’m gonna get changed, you’re gonna get comfy. No buts.”

Jay just stood there for a moment, mentally debating on what action to take as he watched you help yourself to a dry sweater from his closet. His mind was protesting, yelling at him to continue. He was halfway done with chapter 14; he couldn’t just stop halfway! That was like, an unspoken rule, right? That, and he hadn’t been able to concentrate in the slightest yesterday. That meant he’d already spent his free day being unable to focus, he couldn’t have an intentional day off after a fruitless day like that!

But his heart told him something else. As much as his mind would scold and berate him, the little jump his heart made when he saw you, humming as you took off your shirt, your bare back turned towards him, hair still wet and sticking to your forehead... That little jump spoke more words than any self-deprecating lecture he could ever throw at himself.

And so, with a heavy sigh and a rub to his eyes, he gave in to your demands and kicked off his socks. Damn you and your persuasion skills.

“C’mere, you. You look like a lost child at Walmart.” Jay was snapped out of his dazed state when he felt your hand on his chest, giving him a firm push and making him fall backwards onto his bed. You’d apparently picked out an old gray sweater from a college debate team he wasn’t even a member of, and a pair of black, fluffy sweatpants you’d bought together last month. Typical. He should’ve figured you had the intention of wearing it when you picked it out for him.

Jay huffed playfully, watching you crawl onto the bed next to him. “Is this your idea of a relaxing time? Shoving me around and playfighting like a child?” “Yes.” You stuck your tongue out at him, making Jay snort. You really reminded him of a child sometimes.

Crawling back so your back was resting against the headboard, you patted your legs. Jay did not need to be told to know what you wanted, and by God, did he want it more than he realized. Slowly, he shuffled his way over to you, pressing a small peck to your lips before moving to rest his head in your lap.

Your fingers wasted no time diving into his messy, soft locks. Slowly, they started rubbing gentle circles on his scalp, earning you a sigh of relief. You couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning forward to press a kiss against his temple. “Feels good, baby?” you muttered, to which Jay just gently squeezed your leg. He didn’t want to talk anymore.

You combed your digits through his hair one by one, tracing circular patterns and drawing little shapes. Jay hummed or sighed occasionally, but he didn’t utter a word, keeping his eyes closed. With every stroke he felt his stress be brushed out of his mind, your mere touch enough to make his worries melt away. And with that, he had to admit to himself that you were right, again. He did need this break.

And so, you laid there cuddling for hours, your gentle touches lulling him to sleep as his thumb traced tiny shapes on your thigh. Jay had propped himself up, his head now resting on your shoulder. His calm breathing was the only sound you heard, confirming the poor boy had finally allowed himself to get some sleep. You just stared up at the ceiling, fingers never ceasing to move. It almost felt like stopping would break the spell and wake him up.

The coffee was not on your minds anymore, left forgotten on his desk to be drank cold the next day. And even though you felt you were developing a major cold, knowing you would probably wake up with a fever and a clogged nose, you didn’t care right now. That just gave you another excuse to get Jay away from his work.

[splendidlyimperfect]

Sting and Rogue barely escape Sabertooth with their lives, and Sting turns to the only place he can think of to help - Fairy Tail. While they try to sort out their feelings and recover from the abuse Jiemma inflicted on them, Sting and Rogue must help the other guilds protect Fiore from their biggest threat yet - dragons.

Chapter Summary: Rogue refuses to fall to the darkness with Sting to light his way. Natsu comes up with a new plan to defeat the dragons, but there are complications along the way.

Chapters (7/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine Characters: Rogue Cheney, Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Erza Scarlet, Lucy Heartfilia, Wendy Marvell, Porlyusica (Fairy Tail), Makarov Dreyar, Laxus Dreyar, Freed Justine, Future Rogue Cheney, Jiemma (Fairy Tail), Gajeel Redfox Additional Tags: Dai Matou Enbu | Grand Magic Games Arc, Abuse, Physical Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Serious Injuries, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Platonic Cuddling, Sign Language, Magic Fusion, Unison Raids, Grief/Mourning, Dissociation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Friendship, Tumblr: FTLGBTales Series: Part 3 of what we choose to become

** TW for graphic violence

-----

Rogue was exhausted.

He stumbled forward, flinging another attack at the dragon before sinking back into the shadows when it retaliated with flames. The dark alley gave him a moment of reprieve and he leaned against the wall, panting and holding his injured arm as he stared up at the sky.

The dragon was still up there, and he could see Natsu on its back, explosions following him as he fought the unfamiliar enemy – the person who was supposedly Rogue.

“It’s not me,” Rogue insisted, taking a deep breath and leaping out to attack again. The edge of the dragon’s tail caught him in the back, and he cried out as he slammed face-first into a building.    

All you can do is accept your fate.

Rogue froze. That wasn’t the dragon’s voice.

“No,” he whispered, eyes widening as the familiar darkness fought at the walls he’d spent so long building up around it. He’d kept it at bay for all these years and now it scraped at his mind, sharp and aching; begging to be let free.  

You can’t stop it, the shadow whispered. He is what you become.

Rogue dropped to his knees, sharp edges of broken glass digging into his skin. The scattered light across the sky illuminated the shards – flecks of brightness mixed with ash and blood. Thin tendrils of shadow crept across the ground, spreading into a dark mockery of his pain.

“No,” he begged.

Yes, it whispered.

Continue reading on AO3

The numbness of the past few days was quickly being pushed away by a deep, terrified ache that spread through him until every nerve in his body was burning. He stared at his hands, already stained with blood, and nearly threw up.

He couldn’t do this – not alone, not without Sting. But Sting wasn’t here. He was fighting, being brave and beautiful and trying his best to keep everyone safe.

“I can’t,” Rogue gasped, breathing ragged. “I won’t.”

You will, the voice said, words tearing through Rogue like an avalanche that made his teeth hurt. You alone will survive, and you will—

“Rogue!”

That was Sting’s voice – radiant enough to break through the darkness spreading deep into Rogue’s body. He let out a shaky breath, refusing to look up in case it wasn’t real, just another imagined—

“Rogue.” The voice was close, now, and there was a hand on his shoulder, and then Sting was there, eyes bright, face dirty and bruised, perfect and holy and everything Rogue needed. “C’mon,” Sting said, grabbing both Rogue’s arms and tugging him to his feet. “Are you hurt?”

“You…” Rogue gripped Sting’s arms, nails digging into Sting’s skin, trying to breathe around the terrified pressure in his chest. “I…”

“It’s okay,” Sting said, pulling Rogue close and pressing their foreheads together. The sounds of the battle around them faded, pushed away by the pounding of Rogue’s heartbeat and Sting’s soft breath on his cheek.

“You’re here,” Rogue whispered, flinching as a roar split the sky and rubble pounded down around them. The dragon Sting had been fighting burst through the buildings nearby; teeth bared, ready to tear them apart.

“Always,” Sting said, squeezing Rogue’s arms and pulling him into a quick kiss. “We can do this. Together.”

Together, Rogue thought as he returned the kiss, pushing away the desperate terror that threatened to swallow him whole. The darkness inside him craved it, latched onto it with sharp claws and kicked at him, trying to escape.

He wouldn’t let it. He could be strong if Sting was here, if he had Sting’s light to burn away the shadows.

“Okay,” Rogue said, pulling away from Sting and gazing into the bright blue of his eyes before looking back at the dragons. “Together.” 

~

Gray staggered backward, wiping at the blood still dripping down his forehead. Clouds of smoke billowed around them, picking up the ashes of the ruined city and scattering them into the wind.

“Get down!”

Lyon appeared in front of him, shoving Gray backward behind a piece of rubble as beams of light pierced the air around them, shattering anything in their way.

“Thanks,” Gray panted, leaning forward and trying to catch his breath. The acrid smoke in the air made it nearly impossible and he doubled over, coughing.

“How many of these things are there?” Lyon demanded, peeking out from behind their makeshift shelter and quickly ducking back into cover. The hatchlings were everywhere, destroying the city and threatening to overwhelm them. “We’re never going to be able to take them all out.”

Gray glanced back at Juvia, who was crouched behind them, arm bleeding and face set in determination. Then he looked back up to the sky, where the two dragons clashed – one fire, one… something else.

“We have to,” he insisted, spitting blood onto the ground and wiping his face. “They’re still evacuating, we have to keep these things occupied. We can’t give up.”

Natsu was up there, and Gray couldn’t let him down.

An ache spread through his chest at the idea of losing, of falling in the battle and never telling Natsu about the stupid way his heart fell apart every time they touched each other.  

Another blast rocked the ground and he stumbled, grateful for Lyon’s hand that caught him before he fell. Then Juvia was beside him and he could feel their magic, the three of them, perfectly in sync and ready to keep fighting.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath and bracing himself as frost crept up his arms. “Let’s do this.” 

~

Sting saw the dragon’s wing coming at him a second too late and took the hit directly in his chest. The impact tossed him across the street and into a building, bringing down a chunk of rubble that barely missed his head.

“Sting!” Rogue shouted, but Sting waved off his concern, struggling to his feet and wiping blood from his mouth. It hurt to breathe – the sound was wet and ragged, but he could still stand.

Sting staggered forward, blasting the larger dragon with a wave of holy magic that lit up the entire alley, casting all of them in an eerie light. The magic burned along Sting’s skin that was still red and blistered from the fire dragon’s attack, but Sting gritted his teeth and pushed through.  

They had to win. Things were just getting better – they were safe, and protected, and Rogue had kissed him for the first time, and Sting wasn’t about to let that go.

An enormous set of claws raked through the air toward him and Sting braced himself for the impact, but before it could hit, a hand gripped his wrist and yanked him back into darkness. His breath caught in his throat, entire body freezing up in the shadows, but then Rogue had him around the waist and they were stumbling out on the other side of the dragons.

Sting stared at Rogue and a thousand words passed between them as the world crumbled, falling into ash and ruin. Rogue’s tight grip on Sting’s arms hurt, but he ignored the pain, instead leaning in and pressing a fierce kiss to Rogue’s lips.

Then they both turned toward the dragons, hands clasped, magic stitching itself together into a perfect pattern of black and white that sprang from their fingertips and raced through the air.

The attack left Sting breathless and he nearly collapsed, only held upright by Rogue’s tight grip on his hand.

“Fuck,” he whispered as the dust cleared and both dragons remained in front of them, whole and unharmed. “How the hell are we—”

Sting? Rogue? Are you there?

Sting looked around in confusion as Natsu’s voice echoed around them, faint and unstable. “Natsu?” There was no answer.

Max is letting me talk to you, Natsu said eventually. Get to the fountain, we have a new plan.

“To the—what are we supposed to do with the dragons?” Sting demanded, but there was no answer. Rogue looked between Sting and the two dragons, jumping when another voice came from behind them.

“We’ll handle them.” It was Erza. She was still limping, being supported by man with blue hair and a face tattoo that Sting didn’t recognize. “Go.”

“You can’t—”

Erza shook her head, letting go of the man and standing unsteadily with her sword in both hands. “If Natsu has a plan,” she said, “you need to go to him.”

Sting knew Erza wasn’t a dragon slayer, but there was something in her posture that made him feel confident that she could at least keep the dragons at bay while they figured out another solution. Hopefully it would be something more permanent.

“Go,” the man said. “We’ll keep them occupied.”

Sting nodded, taking one last look at the destruction around them before grabbing Rogue’s hand and taking off toward the fountain. 

~

They were losing.

Gray skidded backwards across the rubble, grasping his side and breathing heavily. A searing pain ripped down his left side from where the creature’s claws had raked across him. He pressed his hand to the area, and when he took it away, it was dark red.

“Fuck,” he muttered, trying to summon a patch of ice to cover the wound. When the ice immediately melted away, Gray new it was bad. He pressed his hand tightly against the area to try and slow the bleeding.

“You givin’ up, Snowflake?”

Gray blinked, wiping at his eyes and looking up through the smoke. Natsu stood there, bruised and bloody, his side marred by an enormous wound that appeared to have been cauterized.

“What’re you… doing here?” Gray ground out as Natsu stepped closer to him. He grunted in pain as Natsu grasped his arms and stared at him with concern.

“Long story,” Natsu said, voice low as he stepped closer into Gray’s space. His skin was hot against Gray’s, and Gray tried to focus on the sensation rather than the searing pain in his side. “That looks bad,” Natsu said, gently trying to pry Gray’s hand from his side. Blood bubbled between Gray’s fingers and he cried out.

“Don’t—it’s fine,” Gray panted, shaking his head and staring over Natsu’s shoulder at the hatchlings. Lyon and Juvia were still fighting, ice and water forming and breaking as they pushed against the tide. Further into the city the other dragons were roaring, spreading devastation in their wake.

“You’re not fine,” Natsu insisted, tugging off his scarf and wrapping it around Gray’s torso, ignoring Gray’s protests when the fabric started to stain dark red. “You need to get somewhere safe.”

“Nowhere is safe,” Gray argued, trying to breathe through the pain. He looked up at Natsu – at his ridiculous green eyes, wide with concern.

“We can—”

“We’re never going to win this,” Gray said, shaking his head. “Not if we don’t take out at least one of the dragons. Maybe I can use Iced—”

“Don’t you dare,” Natsu hissed, squeezing Gray’s arms so hard it hurt. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“If it’s the only—”

“It’s not the only way!” Natsu’s voice was thick and Gray was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “It’s never going to be the way; do you understand me?”

“Natsu, I—”

Natsu interrupted him again, this time with his lips on Gray’s. “You’re an idiot,” Natsu murmured, bringing one hand up to Gray’s hair and holding him close as he kissed him. “But you’re my favorite idiot, and I’m not gonna lose you.”

Gray nearly collapsed at the sensation of Natsu’s lips on his, trembling as the fear from earlier dissipated into a sense of contentment. He kissed back, hard and desperate, fingers tight on Natsu’s arms to keep them both from falling apart.

They broke apart quickly as another blast shattered the cover they were hiding behind, sending pieces of debris flying in every direction. The soft sense of intimacy between them fractured and was quickly replaced by smoke and flames and screaming.

“Natsu—” Gray started, moving back to pull him away from the wreckage, but his words were interrupted by a brilliant blast, followed immediately by a searing, unbearable pain that knocked him off his feet.

Everything stopped.

Natsu’s mouth was moving but Gray couldn’t hear him, couldn’t hear anything but the slam of his heartbeat as his life spilled out of him, bit by bit. Everything blurred. Another light. More pain, scorching, ripping him apart.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Nat…su…” He forced the word out, breath escaping in a thin gasp as Natsu touched his chest, pushing against the wounds, trying to stem the blood that bubbled over his fingers and poured down the backs of his hands.

“No.” Gray could hear Natsu now, just barely. His vision blurred, hands going numb as he tried to hold onto Natsu’s wrists. “No, please—Gray, no, c’mon, look at me.” Panic stained the words, drew them out in a rush as Gray’s breath turned wet and copper bubbled in the back of his throat.

“C-can’t…”

“Don’t talk, just look at me. You’re gonna be okay.” Natsu’s hands were everywhere and everything was red, and it didn’t hurt anymore because all the feeling in Gray’s body was slowly slipping away. “Please, please, no.”

Natsu touched Gray’s face, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pulled Gray close, forehead pressed against Natsu’s shoulder. “You can’t leave me,” Natsu begged, voice thick with tears. “I need you.”

Gray blinked, choking on blood as he tried to focus, tried to keep himself here long enough to do what he needed to do.

“Take…” He couldn’t make the words, but he gave anyway, pushing what little magic he had left out along with the blood that spilled over Natsu’s hands. It was so cold, and he watched as frost crept over Natsu’s arms and sunk into his skin.

If Gray was going to die, he could at least help keep Natsu safe.

“No,” Natsu sobbed. “Please. Please, I love you.”

I love you, too, Gray thought, wishing he had the strength to say the words.

The last thing Gray felt was the press of Natsu’s lips to his forehead, then a bright light, then nothing at all. 

~

This wasn’t real.

Natsu clutched at Gray’s arms, pulling him closer, begging as Gray’s eyes closed and he exhaled one last time. Then his body went limp against Natsu’s chest.

“No,” Natsu sobbed, as anguish tore him apart. “Gray! Wake up. C’mon, you’re—you’re okay. Wendy’s—she’s… she’s somewhere, she can…” Natsu looked around frantically, trying to pick out a familiar face through the destruction that surrounded them. Someone stumbled through the smoke – Lyon, Natsu realized – and fell to his knees next to them.

“You have to—please, you have to find Wendy,” Natsu begged, hands still desperately trying to stem the bleeding. Gray wasn’t moving but that wasn’t right, that couldn’t be right because Gray was alive, he was just hurt, he was bleeding but they could fix it, they could help him, they could—

“Natsu!” Lyon’s voice broke through the panic and Natsu realized he was holding up an ice barrier between them and the hatchlings that were slowly closing in on them. “We have to move!”

“No,” Natsu said, voice low and quiet as he stared down at Gray’s bloody face and still chest. “We’re not going anywhere.”

The magic Gray had given him resurfaced, speeding up his arms and pushing him into Dragon Force without him even thinking about it. Scales raced across his body as fast as the grief that filled him, and when he looked down at his arms, he realized the usual red was tinged with an icy blue.

Natsu closed his eyes, letting the comforting sensation of Gray’s magic mingle with the terrified despair that was overwhelming him. They’d fought so many battles together that it was like his own magic, familiar and safe.

Like Gray was beside him, awake and fighting and not—

Natsu shook his head, wiping at his face with the back of his hand as tears streamed down his cheeks. “Can you…” Natsu looked up at Lyon, whose expression was as heartbroken as Natsu felt. Letting go of Gray hurt, more than the wound in his side, more than the bruises that covered his body, more than any physical pain he’d felt before.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing Gray’s forehead again before letting Lyon take him. Then he pushed himself slowly to his feet, holding his trembling arms at his sides as the creatures closed around them.

The fight was over before it began. Blue flames, hotter than anything Natsu had ever made before, exploded from him in searing blaze that pushed the creatures back, incinerating everything until all that surrounded them was scorched earth and ash. Dark, acrid smoke filled the air as Natsu threw his head back and screamed, the anguished sound tearing through him as another wave of fire billowed up into the air, lighting up the dark sky in a brilliant mix of red and blue.

As quickly as it appeared, the column of fire disappeared, leaving nothing but sparks that drifted around Natsu as he dropped to his knees and cried. An anguished sound ripped from his chest, tearing him apart as he struggled to breathe.

Nothing existed right now but Natsu and his grief.

[mrkrychek]

Brighter than the sun (Part 10/10)

So this is it. This is the last chapter. I'm a little bit sad that this story found it's end. But it was a long journey to get here. Too long sadly. Even longer for me posting this also on Tumblr when it has been on AO3 for nearly a year.

I hope you enjoyed it and my mistakes weren't as bad as it seems to me. Friendly reminder at this point that English ist not my mother tongue. And I tend to make mistakes.

I would like to say thank you to the kudos and the few comments. Thank you very much for it! This means a lot to me!

At the end I have a tiny little wish: maybe if you have a few minutes it would help me if you could leave a comment on how you think the story was and if it was good to read or found some mistakes. Thank you very much!

Here you can find the last part

Warning: no warnings yet

Word count: 4492

Part: 10/10

Translation:

пожалуйста (pozhaluysta) - Please

The weeks passed, the Enterprise was nearly rebuild. Over these weeks you got closer to the crew because all of you'd met frequently at a bar to chat if you not met through your work at the station. Uhura and you've got the closest. You've became really close friends and you were really happy about that.

It was one of these nights you met with the whole crew at the bar, having some drinks and fun. You were sitting along with Uhura, Scotty and Sulu at a table. Scotty was talking about something Keenser happened a few days ago while they worked on the Enterprise. The poor one got sick again and refused to see the doctor even though it was obvious that he had a high fever. So it happened that Scotty had to catch him in a 'very 21st century movie worth move' (his words) before he would have fell down several meters – from what you assumed would have been just like 3 meters, but you didn't want to ruin his heroic story. Since then Keenser was tied up in med bay and wasn't allowed to leave for about another two days.

Sadly Pavel wasn't able to attend this evening with you because he was sent on a little mission at the side of Kirk and Spock to escort some important Andorian politician from Yorktown to a nearer planet for some negotiations with their population. He was just gone for a few days but you missed him already. As you found the solid ground for you friendship again and built an even stronger friendship than before, you couldn't help but being constantly by his side and missing him even just minutes after you had to separate. The others joked about you two being like one person actutally.

But by all the saying that you were just friends and acted like them, something between the two of you changed. It was strange that you somehow knew how Pavel was feeling some times. When he was down without showing it you knew. When he was overwhelmed by your sheer present you knew. And you gave him just what he needed. Whether it was a friendly ear, a shoulder to cry on or some space. You gave it to him just because you knew he needed it. It was just a mystery to you how this was actually possible.

As Sulu and Scotty were about to get a new round of drinks Uhura leaned into you with a little smile. “You miss him, aren't you?”

You looked at her a little bit confused. Of course she knew what was going on inside you. Sometimes you thought that she was able to read your mind because it seemed like she knew more than you. “How is it possible you be so calm with Spock not by your side? And I mean...Pavel is just my friend.”

The smirk appearing on her face made you even more confused. But you knew that smirk it was often followed by a 'Sure you're just friends?'. Not this time. “I just do. You know, over the years the bond between me and Spock grew quite strong. So strong that it allows us to send just short little telepathic messages to know the other is alright. It's rare that soulmates are able to do that and it takes sometimes decades to develop this power but here we are. Whenever he feels that I need comfort by him he reaches out to me.” She was right, not every soulmate couple was able to do this. As far as you knew it not only needed a strong bond between the two but also one part must been capable of telepathy. Spock as a Vulcan was.

“Wish I had something similar...” You admitted with a shy smile. You know that its was really rare to find you soulmate. But you knew that it was possible.

“Just take a look to what you have. Chekov is mad about you. All you have to do is to let it happen.”

“I'm not in lo...” You stopped yourself in midsentence. Suddenly you felt this warm feeling inside combined with some excitement. Where was this coming from?

“(Y/N), everything okay?” Quickly you shook your head to get you out of this thought.

“Uhm, yea. Sorry just got this strange feeling. But it's okay and gone.” Whatever it was again you needed to focus. “As I wanted to say I'm not in love with him so it won't happen. We're just friends and will always be.”

Gladly the both men came back before Uhura could say anything against your statement. It was a topic you liked to avoid because it made you feel a little bit uncomfortable. So the drinks Sulu was arranging right in front of your were just the perfect distraction you needed. Immediately you took one glass and raised it. “To this wonderful evening and never ending alcohol!” The other started to laugh but raised their glasses too. With one gulp you emptied you glasses.

“I see my crew knows how to get themselves off!” A familiar voice shouted from the entrance of the bar. The four of you turned your heads toward it. But actually that wasn't necessary because you all knew that it could have been only one person. It was your captain. And by his side was Spock. You felt your heart sinking because there was no sign of Pavel. Disappointment spread through your veins followed by worries that something happened. But wouldn't Kirk otherwise look heavy-hearted or so?

The both of them walked towards your table. Spock took immediately the empty seat next to Uhura, while Kirk took the one next to Scotty. With a bright smile he looked at all of you. “Hope you all are still in for more drinks. Sorry that we arrive so late but well the flight back wasn't very pleasant.”

As you stood up to excuse you because you wanted to leave – not saying that you wanted to look for Pavel – you stepped exactly next to your seat when someone was arriving so that you nearly run into them. “Oh sorry!” Gladly to your and their reflexes there was no bumping into each other. It would been a mess because their were having a lot of drinks on a serving trail.

When you looked up to the person you felt your heart jumping again. Damn heart why was it always doing this? It was just Pavel, even though the sight of him made you really happy. Maybe you could trow your intention to looking for him over.

“You're leaving?” He said with a questioning look.

“Uhm no I just...uhm needed to use the restroom” You lied though you know that at least Uhura wouldn't buy this accuse. With a smile he stepped aside so you could pass. Quickly you took the way to the restrooms. You looked into the mirror and wondered what just happened these past weeks with you. More and more you found yourself thinking of Pavel when he wasn't by your side. When he was your heart was beating so fast. You could tell that you were not in any way inn love with him. Shaking you head you splashed some water into your face and took a deep breath. Then you left the restroom again and headed for your table.

All of them were laughing. In the absence of empty seats Pavel took yours. When you came nearer he made the attempt to stand up for you but you gestured towards him that he should keep on his seat. Quite natural you sat down on his lap and smiled at him. “You don't mind, do you?” As he smiled at you and laid his hand down at your hip to keep you from falling down all he did was nodding. You laid one of your arms around his shoulder and neck and smiled back. “Glad that you're back!” A slightly cough came from across the table. You turned your head to look at Kirk. “Of course I'm also glad that you're back, Jim!” Everyone started laughing again.

“That's good. For a tiny moment I thought my Stellar Cartographer doesn't care about me.” Kirk joked and raised his glass. “To this wonderful crew I call my family! Cheers!” All of you raised your glasses and drank.

The night was so much fun with the guys joking around and you and Uhura rocking the dance floor. The more you drank the more loose you became. The glaces some males gave you and Uhura didn't bother you anymore, the both of you ignored them and just had a wonderful time. The only glance you couldn't ignore was Pavel's. It was the only glance you wanted to feel on you right now. And to keep it on you you caught yourself some times that you put on a little show for him. It wasn't probably the best - thinking about his feelings for you – but you couldn't help wanting his attention. The fault for this was only on him. Why didn't he changed out of the formal uniform he was wearing? It made him look so damn good and handsome. More than once you found yourself checking him out and biting your lip. You blamed the alcohol for this, being sure that if you would be sober you wouldn't act that way.

One by one the others left until it was just Kirk, Pavel and you. Though there were now plenty of empty seats you decided to keep on sitting in Pavel's lap. It was way more comfortable than any seat. And he wasn't complaining so what. But the time came that tiredness overwhelmed you and you had a hard time to keep awake. It wasn't unnoticed by the two others so they called it a night and left the bar.

Of course Pavel didn't let you walk home by yourself so he insisted to bring you to your quarter. What a gentleman he was. So perfect. When you reached your quarter he even came inside with you. You turned on the light just enough that you could see where to walk but low enough to not let it blind you. It gave your room a strange atmosphere. When you turned to look at Pavel you could swear that the air got hotter. In the pale light he looked even better than at the bar. The outlines of his face got more defined and hard. His eyes seemed to glow. It felt like something was magically pulling you towards him. But you resisted. Kind of.

“What in the name of god did I've done to deserve you in my life?” You whispered, not sure if he was able to hear. “You're too perfect, too precious for this word. I don't deserve to have you in my life because I'm such a horrible person.” Even though it was so dark in the room you could see his face tensing up than soften again. His hand reached out to lay down on your check, slowly stroking.

“You're not horrible.” He was wrong. Maybe he couldn't see or didn't wanted to. But you were hurting him all the time. You could see it, feel it. You provoked it tonight at the bar while you were dancing just for him. While sitting on his lap, your hand in his hair. You played with his feelings although you didn't want to.

“Why me? Why do you love me, Pasha? There are so many women out there. So many who are way better than me. Who don't hurt you. Why me?” When he wanted to disagree you laid a finger on his lips to hush him. You weren't finished yet. Maybe the alcohol made you saying things you always kept for yourself. “And why can't I get away from you? Why are you always on my mind since you came back into my life? Stop being there. I get head aches because you're permanently in there. Stop making me confused by it. Stop making my heart pounding so hard in my chest. Stop making me feel these strange things.” Your finger left his lips, wandering down his chin along his jawline. Down his throat. Over his chest. Playing with the Starfleet badge. “Why didn't you changed before you came to the bar? This uniform was way to overdressed for it. It makes you sexier than you should be. It makes me wanting to get it off you so bad. And I shouldn't feel this way. You're my best friend.”

Slowly you looked up to him. The expression in his eyes took your breath. His eyes were screaming at you full of hunger and lust but also full of love. Automatically you're thighs pressed together as if they could stop the warm, wet feeling that spread through your lower body. The alcohol may had given you the strength to speak your mind but your body was reacting all by itself.

Minutes passed without no one of you saying anything. You kept staring into each others eyes. All the talking was done. There were no words left to say. Without you doing anything you body started moving towards Pavel. One step towards him was needed to stand right in front of him. Your breast touching his chest. Your hand which was laying on the badge on his chest was moving upward, curling around his neck. He was not so much bigger than you but enough for you to get on your toes while you were dragging him down. It took just a split second then your lips touched.

First the kiss was sweet nearly shy. Then it grew more wilder, hungrier. Pavel put his arms around your waist, brought you more to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer to him. There had been many first kisses in your life before but non has felt like this. Somehow you felt like you were flying high above the clouds. Everything spun around you. You started to feel dizzy. You really needed to get some air so you broke the kiss. Neither of you opened their eyes for several moments. Afraid of losing this magical moment. Then you slowly open yours seeing that Pavel did just the same. Even in this pale light you could see that his cheeks were flushed. The sight of it made you arouse even more. You couldn't hide your desire anymore.

“I want you”It came harshly out of your mouth. You wanted to kiss him again but this time it was him stopping you. Backing off you looked at him with confusion. Was there anything you did wrong? It wasn't possible that he didn't want you because it was obvious.

“This is something I was dreaming of for so long” His confession sounded like there was something unsaid in it. Something you didn't want to hear. He put a hand on your head to let run through your hair. “You can't imagine how long. But you're drunk and I don't want to take advantage of it.” Another pause. His eyes drifted of to his hand which was still running through your hair. Actually you didn't feel drunk anymore. You felt much more sober after this kiss. The only drunk you were was drunk on him. But when he looked at you again you knew that the moment between was over. “You should go to sleep. And if you still want this in the morning when you're sober, I'll be waiting for you. Like I always do.” His last words were more a whisper than speaking out loud.

Without any other word he lead you to your bed, helped you out of your dress and into a way more comfortable sleeping shirt. When you laid down on your bed he gently covered you with you blanket. He kissed your temple before wishing you good night.

Just before he was about to leave you raised your voice again and called out for him: “Stay!” You weren't sure it was loud enough for him to hear because you drifted into a deep sleep right away.

-

After a few hours you woke up with a little head ache. The hangover wasn't as bad as you expected. Laying there in bed, staring at the ceiling you thought about what happened last night. You had a lot of fun and alcohol. A few jokes by Scotty or Kirk came to your mind and made you grin. And then there was a lot of dancing with Uhura. And there was Pavel. You sitting in his lap, running you fingers through his hair. Him escorting you home. His hungry eyes. And then the kiss. A moan escaped your throat by the sheer thought about it. His lips have been so soft but rough at the same time. His tongue in your mouth had been perky. His arm around your waist that'd pulled you as close as possible. You'd wanted him so bad, you'd been so wet for him. But he'd been the wiser one of you. Had pushed you away even if it has been obvious that he wanted you so bad too.

You sat up, seeing that the bed next to you was empty. Disappointment spread out inside you. So he didn't stayed. Of course he didn't. Probably the torture would have been to much for him. But he said that if you still wanted him in the morning he'd be there waiting. Why did he always torture himself with such a promise? He should have walked away from his feelings a long time ago. It would have been the best for him. You weren't good for him.

Slowly you got out of bed. Your dress was neatly rested on the stool nearby your bed. But there was something else. You walked towards it to get a better look just to discover it was the uniform Pavel was wearing last night. Was he still here? The sound of steady breathing was the instant answer to that unspoken question. When you walked around to your living area and the couch standing there you found him sleeping on it. He wasn't wearing more than a Tshirt and boxer briefs. The thin blanket he probably used to cover himself was laying half on the ground and was twined around his legs. So he did stayed. But as a gentleman as he was he kept his distance to you presumable because it could have been that you regret what happened the night before. Smiling you shook your head because he was really the sweetest guy in this universe.

You really should regret what happened but somehow you just felt happy. And truth to be told you knew the reason of it. Whatever made you push the fact aside that you had actual feelings for is guy. Not the feelings you had for you best friend. No you actually liked him a lot more than a friend. At some point and you don't know when you really fell in love with him. How could you have been so blind? Even after Uhura pointed it out to you so many times. You've been such a dumb-ass.

Slowly you got on your knees in front of him and watched him sleeping for a while. He looked so peaceful and beautiful. His hair was a mess, his Tshirt was a little bit shove up so his abs where visible and this little trail of darker hair which disappeared into his boxer briefs. You had to bit down on your lip to not moan at this view especially at the sight of his slightly arousal. How was it possible that you resisted him for so long?

Gently you started to run your fingers through his hair. They felt so soft . With a quiet grunt Pavel started to wake up. Wrinkles appeared between his eyebrows and on his forehead before he slowly opened his eyes. After he blinked a few times to see properly he turned his head towards you. A tired but happy smile came into sight.

“Vat time is it?” His voice was still a little bit throaty from sleep. Did he always sound like this when he wakes up? You hoped so because it sounded good combined with his Russian accent.

“I don't know. Probably still to early to get up. But I had enough sleep to sober up...” You eyes were searching for his, looking for a reaction before you continued. “I hope you're still up for your offer.” It took some time for him to put the words together and realize the meaning behind them. As his eyes grew big you knew that he got it. He slowly got up keeping his eyes on you. They were asking you silently if you were absolutely sure. All you could do was giving a quick nod before getting up, straddling him and kissed him with all that desire you felt. His arms came around you, pulling you closer while petting you back. Your heart burst into flames because of the pleasure you felt.

Moans escaped both of your throats as you started to roll your hips in his lap, his arousal clearly growing bigger. Both of you were very hungry and not really patient at the moment. You broke the kiss and nearly at the same time pulled of Pavel's shirt as he done with yours. It was very surprising how fast he undid your bra and tossed it away to your shirt. He bent down to take one of you nipple into his mouth. He sucked at it briefly before he let his tongue to lick at it. You let a little scream get out. A hand of yours gripped automatically in his hair. How was it possible that he pushed you just the right way the first time? It was like he knew exactly what you needed and wanted.

Your hips started to move a little faster in need. His groan sent a shiver down your you spine. You got up just enough to get a hand between the two of you and grab his dick through the fabric of his boxer briefs. Stroking him fast and hard just before he laid his hands on your hips, lifted you up just to press you down on the couch. A surprised gasp came off you. You were on the edge and you needed him right now. And by the look in his eyes he was exactly the same. So you got up to pull down his boxer briefs with his help. In a blink he also helped you out of your panties and spread your legs. Then he hesitated and looked at you. You could tell that he wanted to make sure that it was really what you wanted.

“Pasha, пожалуйста (pozhaluysta)! I need you right now!” Your begging came out harshly. He nodded before he bent down and kissing you wild. As you wrapped your arms around his neck, he carefully he pushed inside you. Instinctively you dug your nails into his back. The feeling of him inside you was nothing you ever felt before. It was like he fit perfectly, like your body was made just for him. Both of you moaned loudly when he pushed fully inside you. For a brief moment he just stayed in this position, looking into your eyes. You did the same with a smile on your face. This moment was just perfect.

Slowly Pavel began to pull out of you just to push back inside. Again you moaned loudly. It felt so good having him inside you. You began to move against him. It took you some time to find a common pace but as you did it started to feel even better for both of you. Never had you such a pleasure while having sex with someone. Everything seemed to be better with Pavel. Way better.

You were looking into each others eyes while riding each other towards your climaxes. It wouldn't last much longer. Pavel again bent down to you to kiss you quickly and the kissed down your throat and neck. You laid your head on the side to give him more space. His strokes got more rapid and hard as the nearer you came your climaxes.

And then he did something you haven't expected. He bit down on the space between you neck and shoulder. The pain running through you body hurt but also gave you some extra pleasure. You dug your nails again into his back surely leaving some marks. But it was the only way to ease the other feeling that suddenly rose inside you. It was like something inside you loosened and connected to something inside Pavel. It was like you were becoming one. And so felt your climax. You came along with Pavel in a way you never experienced.

When he let got of the part he just bit down to, he gently kissed it. You tried to steady your breath as Pavel did. Exhaustion made him lay own on you a little bit, trying not to lay to much weight on you. Your hands rested on his back slightly petting him. You were exhausted as he was but also so damn pleased. Slowly you brain started to work up what just happened just moments before you came. You knew that you read something about that. But what was it? Then it came to you like thunderstruck. You couldn't help but started laughing.

When you were just a little child your mother has told you stories of princesses who found their princes and lived happily ever after. You'd loved these stories even though you'd known that they weren't real. But she also told you stories of real people who'd lived life better than any fairy tale. People who said they'd found their soulmates. When you were just a little child you'd believed in these stories even your father had laughed at you and told you on and on that the were just modern fairy tales people had started to tell because they had got tired of the old ones.

Now at the age of 30 you found out the truth. These weren't just fairy tales. These stories about soulmates were true. Uhura told you she found hers in Spock years ago. Even though you heard her stories about this you still had a hard time to really believe it that it was true.

Now at the age of 30 you laid next to your best friend. After all this time and the fighting against your actual feelings, you let it happen and found happiness. The greatest happiness you could found. Because you found your soulmate in Pavel Andreievich Chekov.

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

FANFICTION.NET

TUMBLR CHAPTER INDEX

QUEST 09: OUR SPIRITS, KINDRED

QUEST SUMMARY:

When Ariane is kidnapped and the signs point to Sliske, Jahaan is forced to confront the Mahjarrat once again. But this time, things take a turn for the twisted, and Jahaan uncovers the truth behind Sliske’s obsession with him. Can Jahaan survive Sliske’s games? After all, broken bones heal faster than a broken mind…

CHAPTER 3: METHOD OF MADNESS

Leaving the wight-turned-dragonkin staring blankly into the distance behind him, Jahaan walked through into the next chamber. There, it wasn’t just Ozan and Ariane who he saw. No, alongside the huddled up couple were Major Mary Rancour, Sir Tendeth, and Idria - one of the Guardians of Armadyl.

“Sliske got you all too, huh?” Jahaan drawled, exchanging a small nod of greeting to the Major, who looked just as worldweary as Jahaan sounded. “Is everyone alright?”

Nodding, Idria assured, “Yes, the Brothers have been guarding us, but we’re okay. Do you know what this is about?”

“I can shed some light on that,” Sliske faded into view, looming over the gathered group.

Mary Rancour snapped around, heatedly demanding, “Sliske! Release us all at once!”

“No! I will release you gradually!”

The Major blinked. “...what?”

“While you’re trying to figure that one out, this is how this is going to go,” Sliske started wringing his hands, his voice developing a wicked overtone. “As you may have realised, we are no longer in Daemonheim. I welcome you all to my new humble abode, after the Zamorakians made a mess of my last one. Jahaan here is our guest of honour, and you’re all going to help him through these little trials of mine. You’ll find out the details as we go, but I’ve put a lot of thought into them, so I do hope you have fun!”

Utterly baffled, Jahaan shook his head and replied, “Why do you think I'll do this, Sliske? This is madness! Worse, this is nonsense! What is the point of all this? Just to get me to jump through hoops?”

“In reverse order: not exactly, it's a secret, no it isn't, it kind of is… and because I'll kill more of the hostages if you don't.”

Jahaan faltered. “M-More of...?”

Sliske raised an arm; the cowering Sir Tendeth screamed as he was lifted into the air, surrounded by a purple aura. After a couple of seconds of being held up, he dropped dead.

“By the gods!” Mary Racour gasped, stumbling backwards. Even Idria, normally courageous to the point of being foolhardy, had to reconsider intervention. She was powerless without her rune stones, after all.

Jahaan watched the corpse fall to the ground with a dull thump, and a thick lump rose in his throat. "Sliske..." 

Unphased by the horror he’d just inflicted, Sliske continued, “You see, there is a reason for all this, Jahaan. Two, in fact. The one you'll get now is that I'll present the Staff of Armadyl to you when you are done.”

Idria’s head shot up, fully alert. “You’ll what?!”

“I’ll give him the Staff of Armadyl,” Sliske reiterated, smiling innocently at Jahaan. “You see, soon the Staff of Armadyl would have outlived its usefulness for me. So, here’s the deal: play along with my games, and it’s yours, to go all stabby-stabby on the gods if you so wish. You might liven up this dull period of my contest, after all. Plus, your little friends can go free, as an added bonus. What do you say?”

Jahaan’s eyes examined all the hostages carefully, apprehensively awaiting his response. He didn’t trust Sliske to be true to his word on this, naturally. He didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him. However, he also realised that there was no choice but to play along for now in the hopes that an escape opportunity would arise later down the line.

Sighing, Jahaan answered, “I have no choice. I'll play your stupid game.”

“My game isn't stupid, Jahaan. You'll see that very quickly. Now, there’s the door, so let's get moving!”

Sliske teleported away. After he did, Ozan rushed up to Jahaan and, in a hushed tone, asked, “Are you sure about this, Jahaan?”

“Not even slightly,” Jahaan gravely responded. “But we don't have much of a choice right now.”

To the group, he ushered them to come closer before he quietly said, “Everyone, keep your eyes out for a way to escape as we progress. The sooner we can get out of here, the better.”

When the group entered the large expanse Sliske had directed them to, they saw what looked like an arena. A fighting pit, more like. Desolate and unmaintained from centuries of abandonment.

Where the fuck are we? Jahaan wondered to himself, gazing at the ancient architecture. However, his curiosity was cut short like a bullet to the chest when he saw the other residents Sliske had summoned down in the pit.

They were six figures he recognised all too well, faces that were etched into his mind like carvings on a tree, determined to stand the test of time, to outlive him and all his other memories.

The ragged and torn clothing, along with the tangled mess of brunette hair that covered his blue eyes. He was exactly how Jahaan had found him that day in the cave. Cyrius.

Short and with an expression of perpetual annoyance, the grey haired gnome stood with his chest out and proud, defiant to the end. Hazelmere.

Covered in grey robes, he looked empty without the cocoon of steel armour protecting him, but his stoic expression was stronger than any shield. Turael.

Sporting a pompously flamboyant green hat that only someone like him could pull off, coupled with a perfectly trimmed moustache. Harrallak.

Dark red skin protruded from the slashes in his shirt, exposing the scaly flesh below. He looked completely unphased by the unfamiliar surroundings, ready to take on the world all over again. Mazchna.

Her beige robes covered her from head to toe, strands of ginger hair poking out from the sides of the hood, a fringe covering one of her steely green eyes. Lassyai.

Yes, Jahaan recognised them instantly, but they were all paler than normal, and they looked slightly… hollow.

“Lassyai!” Idria cried out, beginning to rush towards her fellow Guardian of Armadyl, until the blade of Dharok’s greataxe barred her journey.

Like he’d seen a ghost, Jahaan stumbled backwards, knocking into Ozan, who sported a similar expression of confused horror. “H-How are you all here?!”

“I can answer that,” Sliske’s self-satisfied voice echoed around them. “You see, I ‘borrowed’ these souls for today’s proceedings. Iccy’s going to be FURIOUS - I wish I could see the look on his face!”

“Jahaan!” Cyrius called out, a heart-melting smile on his battered-looking face. “Ozan! I’m so glad you’re both still alive.”

Jahaan felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. “Cyrius… all of you… I thought I’d never see you again...”

“Death is a great uniter,” Harrallack commented, dryly. “Then again, it seems ‘undeath’ is as well…”

Always straight to the point, Mazchna asked, “Do you know why we are here? Or how?”

“Yes, I was rather enjoying the afterlife,” Hazelmere cut in, irritably. “Then in a blink, I’m here. And it’s cold.”

“Oh don’t worry, you’ll be back in the afterlife before you know it,” Sliske assured, a darkness in the edges of his voice. “How you get there, however, will be up to Jahaan. Which brings me to why I brought you all here. You see, Jahaan, you always blamed yourself for the death of these fine warriors. It was never your fault, you know. Well, until now, that is.”

Jahaan gulped. “What do you mean?”

“It’s simple, really,” Sliske continued, a wicked grin slashed onto his face. “These lovely men and women want to return to the afterlife. You’re going to help them get there. To do that, all you have to do is put them back to rest…”

Fear crept into Jahaan’s tone. “What do you mean by ‘put them back to rest’?”

Sighing, Sliske rolled his eyes. “Honestly, do I have to spell everything out to you? You’re going to have to kill them, Janny. One by one.”

Jahaan’s face was a picture of disgust. “I’m not doing that!”

“Oh I think you will, for if you don’t kill them, the Brothers will. Trust me, they’ll make it much more painful than you ever would. Whether they get a quick and merciful re-death is entirely up to you."

The shock subsided once Sliske’s words sunk in, replaced instead by something much more tangible, much more familiar: anger.

Rounding to where Sliske was perched, Jahaan gripped his fists into tight balls, teeth clenched so tightly they felt like they could shatter at any moment. “SLISKE!” he roared, saliva spitting uncontrollably, like venom from a rabid animal. “RELEASE THEM BACK TO THE AFTERLIFE NOW!”

Sliske’s response was deadly, bone-chillingly calm. “I already told you how to return them to the afterlife. There’s no need to yell.”

Before Sliske could even get the last syllable out, Jahaan had already began storming towards the stand inhabited by the Mahjarrat, fully intending to scale the brick work with his bare hands if he had to. However, the sudden shriek from behind him stopped him dead. Spinning around, Jahaan saw Guthan had the razor-edge of his spear tight against Ariane’s jugular, who flinched away in terror. In a flash, the six warriors had charged forwards, but a conjuring of shadow binds kept them in their places.

“Leave her alone!” Ozan cried, charging towards Guthan, but Torag knocked him to the ground, shattering his left ankle with one of his hammers.

The sickening crunch of the bone and Ozan’s subsequent scream made Jahaan quiver. Holding his hands up slightly, Jahaan tried to ease his shaking as he turned back to Sliske and stuttered, “O-Okay… okay I-I’m calm. P-Please don’t hurt him again.”

Smugly, Sliske replied, “I thought you would have figured this out by now: whoever gets hurt is entirely up to you. Understand?”

Nodding feverously, Jahaan agreed. “Yes, yes I understand. Please, don’t hurt them anymore. Please.”

Satisfied, Sliske nodded his head towards Guthan. The Brother released Ariane, and she immediately rushed to Ozan’s side.

Fighting his restraints, Tureal roared, “Sorcerer! Release us or pay the price!”

With a grin slashed into his face like it was carved by a crude blade, Sliske retorted, “I don’t think you’re in any position to make threats, Tureal. After all, you couldn’t even stop poor little Lucien, and I’m rather certain I’ve far surpassed his power by now.”

Huffing, Hazelmere loudly grumbled, “Can someone PLEASE tell me what is going on here?”

Lassyai blew a stray clump of ginger hair out from her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? He,” she jerked her head towards Sliske’s perch. “Is one of those Mahjarrat bastards, like Lucien. Sadistic, all of them. And he’s stolen the Staff of Armadyl!”

“But why?!” Hazelmere persisted, “What is going on?!”

“ENOUGH!” Sliske fiercely cut in, hushing the room to silence. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he rounded on the six warriors. “By the gods, I’m surprised you didn’t bicker Lucien to death. And here you were supposed to be Gielinor’s best and brightest. But the World Guardian knows what’s going on, don’t you, Janny?”

Through it all, however, Cyrius’ eyes had never left Jahaan. The World Guardian had been staring numbly into space until a broken murmur from Cyrius broke him out of his stupor. “Jahaan…?”

Gulping, Jahaan’s voice was fractured as he quietly explained. “This is Sliske. He wants to hurt me by getting me to hurt you. I don’t know why.”

Betrayed… the notion danced around in Jahaan’s mind, conjuring nausea in his stomach and bile in his throat. He wasn’t angry now - he was too tired for that. Instead, he was more… heartbroken.

Seeing his old friends. Seeing Ozan hurt and scared. Knowing what he had to do. Not knowing what else was to come. Not being in control of a damn thing.

And, above all, not knowing why.

“Just do it Jahaan,” Mary Rancour urged, anger biting into her frustration. “They’re already dead - it’s not like you’re actually killing them or anything. The sooner this is over, the sooner we can leave.”

“Yes, do it, World Guardian,” Sliske malevolently echoed, waving away the restraints of the warriors as he did so. He motioned to Verac and Karil; the former handed Jahaan a blade, thin like a kitchen knife, while the latter aimed his crossbow at Idria. “Or do you need further encouragement?”

Weighing up the blade in his hand, he turned towards the warriors, all regarding him with a cocktail of confusion and apprehension.

Unsurprisingly, Hazelmere was the first to speak. “Well, get on with it then! What do I care if you kill me again? I just want to go back to the peace and quiet.”

Sniffing a laugh, Turael turned a challenging glance to Sliske as he added, “Yeah, means nothing to me. Have at it, Jahaan.”

The others cut in with similar resistant barbs, focused on either trying to rattle Sliske, calm Jahaan’s nerves, or perhaps both.

Jahaan knew they didn’t fully comprehend what was going on, or why, or even how. But he recognised the main thing, and that was they were doing in death what they always did in life - they were supporting their comrade.

Despite everything, he forced a weak, defiant smile. “Your plan backfired, Sliske. You’ve given me the chance to do something I’ve wanted to do for years. You’ve allowed me to say goodbye.”

But as the blade bit down on Hazelmere’s thin skin and he looked deep into those blue eyes, the fear and nerves and sickness all came flooding back. Defiance had crumbled, but that was internally. Externally, he tried his damn best to keep his resolve steady. Then again, the hesitation no doubt gave it away.

He didn’t want to give Sliske the satisfaction of watching him break.

“Hurry up,” Hazelmere grumbled; Jahaan knew it was for his sake, not out of genuine annoyance. This was the only way Hazelmere knew how to be supportive. “My feet are aching, and I had tea brewing.”

Sniffing a faint chuckle, Jahaan whispered, “Goodbye, Hazelmere.”

In one swift motion, the first deed was done. There wasn’t much in the way of blood, but the way his body crumpled to the ground, a dull and lifeless thud, brought back the painful vision of the first time he saw Hazelmere fall.

Mustn’t give Sliske the satisfaction, Jahaan reminded himself, swallowing hard and blinking back the salty tears threatening the edges of his eyes as he moved onto Turael, then Harrallak, then Mazchna, then Lassyai.

The last was Cyrius.

He looks just as beautiful as he always did, Jahaan found himself ruminating, gazing into his warm blue eyes through blurred vision. Blinking himself back into clarity, a few stray tears escaped down his cheek, and he didn’t have the will to brush them away. Cyrius didn’t give him a look of pity, though. His serene smile encapsulated his contentment as he said, “Do you remember that trip we took to Baxtorian Falls? We camped out there for days, watching the leaping salmon and trout dancing through the air.”

This thought broke Jahaan; he choked back a sob, trying to mask it inside a laugh. “How could I forget? You burnt everything we caught.”

Cyrius chuckled now, a full-bodied chuckle filled with warmth and comfort. “Do you remember how we got back down the waterfall?”

Jahaan felt like his heart momentarily stopped. “I-I do…” he stammered out, swallowing down the large lump in his throat.

Cyrius looked on the brink of tears now. “I was so scared of jumping in that whirlpool. You told me people did it all the time and lived to tell the tale, but still. Remember how you took my hand, and you led me to the bridge,” Cyrius reached out and lightly took Jahaan’s hand in his, the one with the knife. “If you hadn’t held onto me I swear I would have chickened out. Tell me, honestly, were you sure we were going to make it?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Jahaan confessed, “Honestly? I guess not.”

“Me neither,” Cyrius replied. Jahaan could see his own reflection through the water in Cyrius’ eyes. “But you know what? I didn’t care. If we hadn’t made it out, I wouldn’t have cared, because right there and then, everything was perfect.”

Cyrius wrapped Jahaan’s fingers around his own. “Because you are perfect.”

Suddenly, Cyrius leant forward and planted a deep kiss on Jahaan’s lips. But before Jahaan could even register what was happening, Cyrius pulled away, and he had taken the dagger with him.

Jahaan barely opened his mouth before Cyrius slit his own throat with the blade.

When Jahaan climbed the ramp out of the pit, Sliske was there to greet him, clapping slowly. “Good show, Janny. Good show indeed!”

Jahaan didn’t stop, he just stormed right past Sliske and towards the entrance to the next chamber.

The doors creaked open slowly, allowing Jahaan to enter. When they closed behind him again, he leant back against the door and tried to steady his breathing. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, so he clenched them into balled fists, squeezing so hard his fingers started to turn purple. Chattering teeth thrummed in time with his rapid heartbeat, while waves of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

Calm down, Jahaan hissed internally, There’s no time for this now. You have to focus. Pull yourself together

Trying to swallow his feelings like bile in his throat, Jahaan prepared to embrace Sliske’s latest torture chamber. In front of him he saw two incredibly large god statues - one of Saradomin and one of Zamorak - with an eerily familiar looking gentleman attached to them. Blue and red chains held him taut in a crucifix position. Upon closer inspection, it appeared as if they were actually pulling him in both directions, agonisingly stretching his limbs. Above him towered a tall statue of a very sadistic looking Mahjarrat.

Hurrying over, Jahaan could only look on in abject horror as the man’s body shook against the tension, quivering in pain. But when he got close enough to see his face, Jahaan felt like throwing up. “You!”

Blonde hair, parted at the side, but messy, like a comb-over had gone wrong. Dark eyes, empty and lifeless. The man was an animated corpse.

And a long, thin scar across his throat.

“Sir Tenly,” Jahaan could actually feel the bile forming in his throat as he uttered the name. The former White Knight’s eyes fell on Jahaan, a flash of panic, desperation and anger all in one nanosecond.

“You! You’re the- ARGG!” the pain of the chains cut him off, but he was determined to finish, teeth gritted as he spat, “you’re the bastard that murdered me!”

Jahaan flinched backwards, eyes wide and bloodshot. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by another scream of pain from Sir Tenly.

Desperately, with a face creased and a brow strained, Sir Tenly hissed, “You have to help me - these things are tearing me apart!”

“Yes, they are, aren’t they, Sir Tenly?” Sliske taunted, his disembodied voice echoing around them. “Jahaan, this one is very simple: Sir Tenly is being torn between two gods, Saradomin and Zamorak. You have to figure out which one doesn't have a claim on his soul and make them let go.”

Sir Tenly’s arms struggled against the chains. “Saradomin is my lord and light! Aaaargh!”

“Then that's simple, isn't it? All you need is a key to Zamorak's chains. There is a machine for making them over in the other room where your friends are. They just need to put a hand into that little box to power the machine.”

Already feeling like he knew the answer, Jahaan warily inquired, “And what happens when they do?”

The Mahjarrat replied, “Ah. Well, if I told you, that’d ruin the surprise now, wouldn’t it?”

Jahaan could practically feel Sliske’s smirk.

“Hurry! Do it! Free me!” Sir Tenly beseeched, “My vitals feel like they are being sliced apart!”

“Well, that might be because I hid the Saradomin key in there…”

Jahaan choked on the lump in his throat. “What?!”

“If you think maybe Saradomin has less of a claim on Sir Tenly than he declares, all you have to do is dig it out. I’ll let the two of you have a nice reunion. Have fun!”

Hesitantly, Jahaan edged closer to Sir Tenly, his eyes stinging with tears in them. The man whose life he cut short, all over a stupid insult.

Jahaan gulped. Now he’s here, suffering again, thanks to me...

He didn’t know what to do; his mouth hung open like a dumbstruck animal, his feet nailed to the floor. It wasn’t until another cry of pain from Sir Tenly snapped him out of his trance.

“Why is this happening to me?!” Sir Tenly wailed, face contorted with agony. “I was a good Saradominist! Who is this- ARG! This MONSTER?!”

Gulping, Jahaan tried to straighten his thoughts out enough to tentatively reply. “It’s not you. He’s… he’s doing this to get to me. It’s one of his sick games.”

"You're putting an unfair amount of the blame on me, don’t you think, Janny?” Sliske cackled, menacingly. “After all, you were the one who sent this man to an early grave. How can you call me ‘sick’ or ‘twisted’ or evil’ when you’re nothing but a cold-blooded murderer yourself, hm?”

Sliske’s words cut through Jahaan like a knife through raw chicken, chilling his very core. It was Sir Tenly who pulled him out of his own mind.

“Who even is this monster?!” Sir Tenly exclaimed, but after another sharp hiss of pain, he corrected, “Nevermind, I don’t care - just get the Zamorak key and get me out of here!”

The Zamorak keys can only be forged from pain, while the ‘light’ of Saradomin tears Sir Tenly up inside, Jahaan darkly realised, watching the corpse in front of him writhe in pain. His head was still reeling from Sliske’s previous truth. What poetic irony, Sliske.

“What are you still standing there for?!” Sir Tenly strained against his chains. “Get the key, NOW!”

Exhaling a shuddering breath, Jahaan declared, “O-Okay, I’ll get the Zamorak key.”

“Hurry! I don’t know how much more I can take!”

Resolving himself, Jahaan rushed over to the doorway separating himself from his comrades, who had been ushered into a small box-like room that extended into his chamber. He knew exactly what he was about to ask of his friends, but there was little choice in the matter. Pressing up against the door, he shouted through, “I need a Zamorak key.”

“A what key?” a puzzled Ozan called back.

“Long story short, Sir Tenly is strung between two statues,” Jahaan hurried to explain. "I need to unlock the statue of the god who does not have a claim on his soul. So, I need a Zamorak key.”

“Who’s Sir Tenly?” Major Mary Rancour inquired.

“Not important,” Ozan cut in, sparing Jahaan from having to explain himself, for which Jahaan was incredibly grateful. Small mercies, after all.

Back on track, Ariane asked, “How do we give you that key?”

Jahaan hesitated, the guilt setting in. “Is… is there a machine in there with you?”

Idria confirmed that there was.

“One of you needs to put your hand inside it. It’s… it’s going to hurt, but Sliske said that’s the only way to get the key.”

Hands on her hips, Idria protested, “Why do we need to get hurt over this Sir Tenly’s sake?”

“Because Sliske will hurt us all if you don’t.”

Idria countered, “But how do we know he won’t just hurt us anyway?”

Echoing around them, Sliske cheerily conceded, “She has a good point. I am a terrible person.”

Idria waved her hands to the sky, satisfied at being proven right yet again.

“The thing is, my dear, if you don’t play along, well…” Sliske warned, “Remember dear old Sir Tendeth? Lived up to his name, didn’t he…”

Biting his lip, Jahaan said, “I’m sorry guys. I need that key.”

Exhaling deeply, Ozan was the first to declare, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Ariane gave his hand a light, reassuring tug before he limped over to the machine. There was a little box that opened as he approached. A metal grill was on the bottom inside it.

Wincing, Ozan cautiously edged his hand inside, and the box clamped down to secure him there. 

The scream was earth-shattering as blue fire rose from the grill and engulfed Ozan’s hand.

When he was released, he fell to the ground clutching his scorched palm.

The sound made Jahaan feel sick, but he steeled himself through the waves of nausea. “Ozan, I’m so sorry…” he mumbled, but he doubted anyone could hear.

The next thing he knew, a key was placed through the letterbox-sized flap to his right.

The sounds of Sir Tenly’s wailing snapped Jahaan back into focus; scrabbling to grab the key, he hurried over to the Zamorak statue and tried to unlock it.

Tragically, the key broke in the lock.

“What’s happening?!” Sir Tenly demanded.

Jahaan heavy-heartedly called back, “The key broke!”

“Useless sandboy!” Sir Tenly hissed. “Do it right this time!”

The hairs on the back of Jahaan’s neck stood up and he froze, utterly, clenching the broken end of the key tightly into his fist. He couldn’t quite tell if it was in his imagination or not, but he swore he heard Sliske laughing.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he ignored Sir Tenly and went back over to the large door, shouting through, “Guys, the key broke in the lock. I’m so sorry, but I need another.”

Sighing, Mary Rancour volunteered, “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Despite telling herself she didn’t want to give Sliske the satisfaction of hearing her scream, her shriek was incredibly high pitched.

Taking the key, Jahaan went to unlock the Zamorak statue again. Alas…

“It broke again!” Jahaan exclaimed, his shoulders sagging.

“Are you kidding me?!” Sir Tenly replied. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“I’m not!” Jahaan snapped back, indignantly. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but out of anyone, he was glad it was someone like Sir Tenly up there and not one of his friends.

He walked significantly slower this time over to the door. “Hey guys, I need another key…”

Idria did not look impressed. “Of course you do.”

Shaking his head, Jahaan said, “I don’t know what to tell you.”

Grumbling, Idria replied, “I guess I’ll do it then.”

A hand, a box, a flame, a scream, a key.

And again, it broke in the lock.

Sliske’s voice floated tauntingly around them. “Hmm it broke again… I wonder why that is, Sir Tenly…”

The realisation Jahaan had been fighting back since the second key broke crawled across Jahaan’s skin. Walking up the steps to Sir Tenly, he somberly announced, “I need the Saradomin key, Sir Tenly. There’s no other way.”

“What are you talking about?” Sir Tenly gruffly protested. “The Saradomin key won't unlock the chains. All you'd be doing is symbolically removing my love for him, just like that monster wants!”

“I’m sorry… I have to…”

“NO!” Sir Tenly bellowed. “I am a White Knight of Saradomin! Get a Zamorak key and release me!”

Gulping, Jahaan stepped closer. “I’m sorry.”

“No! I follow my lord willingly!” Sir Tenly desperately resisted, his fearful eyes quivering.

Having to force his hand closer to Sir Tenly’s soft, undead stomach, Jahaan whispered, “I’m so sorry…”

With a sickening squelch, Jahaan’s fingers stabbed into Sir Tenly’s belly. As the knight writhed in torment, he felt his fingertips knock against something metallic.

“Mercy! Please, stop this torture!” Sir Tenly desperately begged, his head shooting around in all directions as his body convulsed with agony.

Jahaan was shaking, his heart breaking at the pained sobs of a proud knight, no matter how ignorant or rude that knight could be. Reaching in further, he felt his hand brush against dusty organs. The sensation made Jahaan gag.

“Please stop! You’re tearing me in half! ARRRRGGGG!”

Finally, Jahaan managed to hook two fingers onto the teeth of the key, but it didn’t budge easily. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he woefully declared, “Sir Tenly, I have to pull harder. I’m sorry.”

As he began to pull, Sir Tenly unleashed a blood-curdling scream. “ARRRRGGGG! Please stop the pain! My god, why are you letting this happen?!”

Jahaan felt the key catch on Sir Tenly’s ghostly insides as he pulled harder.

“Will the truth make it end?!“ Sir Tenly was in tears at this point, head hung low as he cried out, “ALRIGHT! I'm a Zamorakian! Now please, LET THIS END!” 

Finally, the key came free with a ‘slurp’, covered in whatever juices were left of Sir Tenly’s insides.

Refusing to give into his nausea at this second, Jahaan raced towards the Saradomin statue. Unsurprisingly, the key fit perfectly, unlocking Sir Tenly’s chains. As Sir Tenly swung loosely towards the Zamorak statue, the Saradomin statue toppled over backwards at the loss of contact, knocking a large hole in the wall behind it.

Satisfied that Sir Tenly was free, Jahaan realised nothing was holding him back now, and thus he threw up. A lot.

Once that was out of his system, and most of the goo had been wiped off his hand, Jahaan staggered back over to Sir Tenly, who had become free from all his chains now. “Are you alright?”

Clutching his stomach, Sir Tenly shot him a deadly glare. “You ripped a key from my chest and revealed my true Zamorakian faith, proving I’m a heretic. Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

Jahaan forced a hollow smile. “Sarcasm - that means you’re good to go.”

As quickly as he could, he rushed back over to his friends and hissed through the door, “Guys, are you alright? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, we’re holding up,” Ozan assured, but the shivering laced in his voice betrayed him. “What about you?”

“Sir Tenly’s free,” Jahaan dodged the question. “The fallen statue knocked out a part of the wall. I’m going to see if it leads to a way out. Can you guys keep Sliske busy while I do that?”

“We’ll try,” Idria replied, biting her lip. “Don’t be long though. If you get outside, bring reinforcements back with you. I don’t trust Sliske to keep his word about the Staff, but as long as we can corner him here, we have a chance of getting it back.”

Mary Rancour concurred, “Indeed. We have to use this situation to our advantage. Good luck out there, Jahaan.”

“Same to you, everyone,” Jahaan replied, but he hesitated before leaving. He wanted to say something else, something reassuring and confident to try and keep everyone’s head above water. But knowing he’d no doubt sound as scared as he felt, he held back.

With that, Jahaan hurried over to the hole in the wall, slipping behind cover wherever he could, and entered the caved in tunnel. From the lack of protest on Sliske’s part, he seemed to get away with it.

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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[mariequitecontrarie]

People Will Talk: Part 2

Summary: Atticus Gold and newcomer Belle French have developed a relationship no one in Storybrooke approves of, and people make their opinion known in small-minded, small-town fashion: he’s too old for her, and the pretty young librarian needs to find friends her own age. When Gold ends the relationship to protect Belle’s reputation, the town turns on him again. To make matters worse, his friends and family are mad at him, too. But as we all know, love wins in the end. Chapter Summary: Gold hasn't seen Belle in two weeks and Alice is not happy with him. Belle gets an unpleasant surprise. Rating / Word Count: T / 3000  A/N: Continuing Marie’s Three-Year Writing Anniversary Rumor/Assumed Fake Dating/Family AU that no one asked for. @maplesyrupao3 -- bless you!

On AO3

Part 1 on AO3 | Part 1 on Tumblr

Two Weeks Later

“Alice, why are you looking at me like that?”

Gold held his breath and waited, cursing himself for asking. He was guaranteed not to like the answer, but anything was better than the silent treatment.

Alice stopped dusting the cabinet of china dolls to fix him with another poisonous glare. “Because you’re a horse’s ass who has more money than brains.”

“Noted. Can you at least keep up with your duties while you insult me? Time is still money, dearie, even here in the barnyard.” Squabbling, at least, was familiar territory.

Gold waved a hand around the tidy pawnshop, wondering who worked for whom. He owned the store, but Alice called the shots. Sometimes it seemed like his only job was bankrolling Alice’s Amazon Prime spending sprees while she worked her way through Storybrooke College.

The only person he knew who shopped more than Alice was...no, he wasn’t going there.

Still glowering at him like he was something she scraped from the bottom of her shoe, Alice worked her way around the perimeter of the shop with her feather duster. He had to admit she did keep the cobwebs at bay and his stockroom organized, even if she annoyed the hell out of him in the process.

He glanced at the restored cuckoo clock on the wall. It was almost lunchtime, and Alice had been scowling at him since she’d shown up for work this morning. Trying to ignore her, he eased behind the counter and opened the books.

She fell silent for a short, precious moment, then slapped her hands on the countertop.“Ha! I know what your problem is. You’re in a foul temper because you haven’t seen your sweetheart. Belle hasn’t popped in for two weeks. What’s wrong? Lovers’ quarrel?”

“Beg pardon?” he asked, pretending to study his ledgers.

Feigning ignorance never worked on Alice. So like a Jones. Stubborn and mouthy, just like her father. She continued to bore holes into the top of his head, muttering to herself about how he was apologizing to the wrong person until he looked up with a long-suffering sigh.

Talking, talking. Why was the girl always talking? An ocular migraine threatened to form, sharp and urgent above his nose. Tiny sparks exploded in his peripheral vision, and he pressed his fingers against his forehead.

He supposed he could send his little conscience home from work to get her out of his way, but she was more than an employee—she was his goddaughter—and he’d promised Hook he would keep tabs on Alice while he was at sea. Killian “Hook” Jones’ career as a Naval officer meant lengthy tours of duty up to six months, and he knew Alice and her papa missed each other dreadfully while he was away. Guilt poked his conscience; he hadn’t emailed Hook with an update in at least two weeks. But he knew his oldest (and only) friend would question him about Belle, and he was neither willing to lie nor ready to confide. Besides, he reasoned, Alice could text her papa anytime she wanted with her smartphone thingy.

“If you’re not going to work, why don’t you study?” he murmured, trying to concentrate on his July sales numbers. “Isn’t there a women’s lit paper due tomorrow or something?”

“Books!” she shouted, making him jump. “That’s it! Why don’t you take these books back to the library for me?”

Alice plopped a pile of novels on top of the financials, jarring him from his thoughts. He pinched the bridge of his nose hard. Now he would have to rework the column of numbers all over again.

“I was hoping to get advice from Belle on a dress for my date with Robin on Friday, but this’ll give you an excuse to see her instead.” Alice grinned, delighted with her solution.

He shoved the books aside with a huff. “I’m not looking for an excuse.”

“Why the hell not?” Abandoning the pretense of working entirely, she dropped the feather duster on the floor and hoisted herself up on top of the counter.

He set his teeth on edge. “Belle and I aren’t friends anymore.”

“Friends?” She smirked. “If you’re friends, then I’m straight. Hate to break it to you, Uncle Atty, but you two have never been friends. She’s in love with you! And you love her, too.”

“What makes you say so?” he asked carefully, looking at his nails.

“Oh, I don’t know. The dark circles under your eyes. The constipated look on your face. You look like a saggy, twitchy, miserable old man.” She held up a brown paper bag. “Want a sandwich?”

He turned around, assessing his appearance in the antique mirror that hung on the wall behind the cash register. “I am a saggy, twitchy, miserable old man,” he snapped. “And no, I’m not hungry.”

“When Belle’s around, you look all soft and floppy and happy, like Rabbit does whenever I come home.” Alice smiled another cheeky grin.

He smiled back at her in spite of himself. “Well, I’ve been called worse, dearie, but If you’re expecting to bring me to heel like that stupid old dog of yours, it’ll be a cold day in hell.” He slammed the ledger closed and headed for the workroom. The girl trailed after him, still clutching her paper sack.

“I have egg salad,” she teased, shaking the bag. “Your favorite.”

It used to be. He shuddered, his stomach lurching. Eggs were a definite no. Now whenever he saw any sort of egg concoction, he thought of Belle’s pinched, white face on that hot July afternoon thirteen days ago when he ended their friendship. Not that he was counting the days since they’d been apart.

“I don’t eat eggs anymore,” he said. “Too much cholesterol.” No one knew his house had been egged besides Belle, and he wasn’t going to whine about it to Alice. He still had some pride. “You don’t like eggs, you don’t like Belle.” Alice spread her hands wide and twirled in a circle. “What do you like, Sam-I-Am?”

He pulled a face. “Peace and quiet. Both seem to be in short supply.”

Laughing at his sour expression, she plopped down on one of the stools at the work table and dangled her sandwich in front of his nose. “How about marmalade? I’ll trade ya.”

Alice was volunteering to eat the egg salad and offering her favorite lunch. Things really were as bad as they seemed, then. “Fine.”

Resigned, he sat down beside her, accepting half of the sandwich. He took a small bite to stop her prattling, but he had no appetite. Food had no flavor, the whole world drained of color and light without Belle. He missed her; her laughter, her touches, her insatiable appetite for stuffed crust pizza.

“Eat,” Alice insisted, clucking over him like a little mama.

He swallowed the bite of sandwich and forced himself to take another. “So, did you choose a dress for your date?” he asked, attempting both to change the subject and rejoin the land of the living. “Where are you and Robin going?”

“It’s just Tony’s.” Alice shrugged like the occasion was no big deal, and took a massive bite of her sandwich.

A six month anniversary is an important milestone.” He took out his pocket square and folded it into a perfect crown, trying not to be hurt that she hadn’t asked his advice. “Your father wouldn’t know style if it bit him on the arse, but I know my way around a clothing boutique.”

“I know,” she said around a mouthful of egg salad. “But I was kinda wanting the opinion of another woman. No offense.”

‘Another woman’ meant Belle. He cleared his throat. “None taken.” Not for the first time he was reminded that walking away from Belle didn’t only affect him. Alice looked up to Belle like an older sister, and he hoped his relationship failings weren’t driving a wedge between Alice and Belle, too.

Poking at the crust on his sandwich, he wondered what Belle was doing right now. She was probably balancing a book on her lap while she ate, dropping sandwich crumbs between the pages and... no. Gold mentally slapped himself. Cutting a person out of your life meant giving up the right to wonder.

Alice polished off the first half of her sandwich and started on the second. “Belle was at Granny’s the other night,” she offered slyly, employing her uncanny knack for reading his mind.

He choked on the sticky bit of bread in his mouth. “Oh? With anyone?” Ugh . When it came to the people he cared about, he was terrible at nonchalance.

“Yeah. Tall bloke with sparkling blue eyes and a strong, lean jaw.” She batted her eyelashes. “Didn’t recognize him, but it looked like a date.”

Date? Belle had gone on a date? He would find out who the bastard was and he would crush his windpipe with his cane. Gold looked down at his hands. They were coated in marmalade, the mangled sandwich crushed between his palms.

“Way to play it cool, Uncle Atty.” Alice smirked and he rose to wash his sticky hands. “I’m kidding. But I wouldn’t have made a joke if I knew you were this upset. Belle was at a booth with some other people. Ruby, Mulan, and Mary Margaret. Waved at me once, but she was picking at her food and staring at the wall whenever I tried to catch her eye. It’s obvious she’s missing you. Can’t you fix this?”

“I couldn’t possibly be intelligent enough to do that,” he said, grateful sarcasm was there to cover his relief at Belle not being on a date after all.

“Mmm, I see.” Alice rolled her eyes. “She’s the first woman who saw through your little act, isn’t she? Now you’re grouchy because you’ve gone and screwed up the best thing in your life because some Granny, Marco, and some other ignorant busybodies have their noses out of joint. Since when are you afraid of them, anyway?”

“Afraid? Ha!” He flashed his gold tooth in a warning snarl. This conversation was ridiculous.

“Cripes, this place can be so backward. Even the clock doesn’t move here.” Alice gestured down the street toward the clock tower, which had been stuck at 8:15 for twenty years. “I’d say we’re living in a land time forgot, but it’s been a common practice in most societies for younger women and older men to marry for generations.”

“Marry?” He sputtered. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Obviously not you!”

He crossed his arms and grunted. “Reverse psychology doesn’t work on me, child. I used to change your nappies.”

“That’s right, you did. So why are you pretending I don’t know you?” She swallowed the rest of her sandwich in a gulp and chased it with half a can of Dr. Pepper soda. “People whisper all sorts of wicked things about me. Some of them are true and some of them are outright lies. We’re alike in that way, you and I. So what? If I paid attention to what everyone said, I’d never leave the house.”

“I know, honey.” He smoothed his hands over the smooth grain of the worktable, ashamed of himself. Alice had more than her share of bad days, days when she couldn’t come into work. Times when she came to the shop and wandered around as though in a dream, trailing her fingers through cabinets coated in dust, a faraway look in her eyes. What he suffered was nothing in comparison, and yet he couldn’t seem to ignore the thick fog of prejudice and judgment that suffocated him whenever he was with Belle.

“People talk no matter what we do; doesn’t mean we have to listen.” She patted his shoulder. “You sure as hell don’t listen to me, and I talk your head off every damn day.”

He gave her a fond smile and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t remind me.”

Day after day of pretending she was fine was exhausting, but Belle had been doing a fair job of holding herself together since Gold had unceremoniously dumped her on his front porch. She wasn’t sure it counted as a dump if you only fantasized you were a couple, but according to the ache in her chest, it was real.

The busier the day, the better. If she kept moving from task to task, she could ignore her shattered heart. She showed up for her library shifts without fail, she checked books in and out, and chattered with people about their lives. Today she had even helped several eleventh graders with their Marie Antoinette biographies. Staying busy was working until the last hour of the day when the flow of patrons slowed to a trickle and she sat down at her desk to open the mail.

She quickly sorted through the typical bills, catalogs, and overdue fine payments, arranging them into piles. A plain, clean white envelope addressed directly to her stood out from the rest of the mail, and she saved it for last. There was no return address, but the faint scent of antiseptic clung to the crisp envelope.

Belle ripped the envelope open and a drawing sketched on a piece of ruled notebook paper floated to the floor. What she saw made her bite down on her lip hard, the metallic tang of blood filling her mouth. It was a crude illustration, but she could make out the Beast from the movie Beauty and the Beast , drawn wrinkled and old, wearing a suit and tie and clenching a cane in his gnarled claw. He was ogling a young woman who was reading a book. The woman wore a version of movie Belle’s famous golden dress, but the skirt barely grazed her thigh and the bodice dipped all the way to her navel. Clearly, the image was meant to be of her and Gold.

She stared down at the crude representation, then crumpled it in her fist. It was a cheap attempt at an insult, drawing her to look like some sort of slutty temptress and Gold as a dirty old man. Rage ripped through her in a white-hot streak, and her mind narrowed to a singular purpose: finding out who had done this. Tonight.

Belle shot to her feet, knocking over her chair.

Granny’s Diner was the social hub of Storybrooke, and the best place to get to the bottom of nonsense, but she was far too impatient to wait until the library closed. She chased the last few stragglers out of the library and slammed the door behind her, jamming the key in the lock with shaking hands until it clicked. With frayed nerves, she stomped all the way to Granny’s, the drawing clutched in her closed fist. The early August evening air was warm and humid, and sweat trickled down her back as she marched down Main Street. While she hurried down the sidewalk, she tried to puzzle out who had drawn and sent the picture and why. Rumors and innuendo aside, there was something perplexing about caring so much for Gold and yet holding physical evidence that other people couldn’t see the tender, handsome man she knew.

Small towns produced small minds.

The tables at Granny’s were packed. It was Thursday during dinner rush—the most popular night—and people clustered inside the front door and on the patio outside, waiting for the chance to sit down. All the barstools were occupied, platters and baskets of food sitting in front of every person. Good. Belle wanted a large audience for what she was about to do.

She toed off her heels and climbed up on the counter. Mr. Clark from the pharmacy stared at her in horror, then sneezed and wrapped an arm around an enormous, sauce-covered square of lasagna, drawing it closer for protection. Ruby stood frozen at the cash register, and Ashley Boyd narrowly missed dropping the tray of dirty dishes she was carrying, almost colliding with town psychiatrist Archie Hopper as she narrowly saved the plates from slipping to the floor.

Behind the counter, Granny made an outraged, sputtering noise, the heat of her glare rivaling the sizzling grill. At the moment, it didn’t matter if Granny never sold her another hamburger or slice of chocolate cake for the rest of her life, Belle was getting some answers tonight . She turned around and faced the crowd.

“Who did this?” Belle called out, looking down over the sea of faces. She held up the drawing, still clenched in her shaking fist. The noise continued to drone on around her, the clatter of forks against plates, the townspeople oblivious to anything but their meals and their conversations. “I said who did this?”

“Look, Mommy!” yelled a blonde girl with curly pigtails. “That lady is fifty feet tall!” A hush came over the diner in a languid wave and all eyes turned to stare at Belle standing on the counter. Forks were laid down on plates with a quiet clatter. Time seemed to stand still and no one appeared to so much as breathe.  

“Does anyone want to confess?” she asked, shaking the drawing in her fist and glaring around the restaurant with narrowed eyes.

When no one stepped forward or admitted guilt, she dropped the drawing on the counter and ground it into the tile with her bare heel. “You’re all a bunch of cowards, you know that? Mr. Gold and I are friends, and it’s no one’s business but ours what we do. Your problem isn’t that he’s befriended a woman a few years younger than he is. Your problem is you’re a classless bunch of small-minded prigs.”

Jaws dropped and they gaped at her like fish in an aquarium, then fell back to their eating and chattering as though people stood on top of Granny’s counter raving like lunatics every day of the week.

Her limbs shook with anger, and she caught the sympathetic eyes of Mary Margaret and David Nolan. One minute they were sitting at the counter holding hands and sharing a basket of chicken fingers and the next thing she knew, they were flanking her, standing one on each side, like a pair of orderlies preparing to strap her into a straight jacket and wheel her away.

“Okay, Belle, that’s enough now, honey.” Mary Margaret’s voice was quiet and soothing, and Belle felt her knees begin to give out.

[onceuponanolicity]

Never Far Away - Chapter 1

When Felicity Smoak moves to Starling City and attends a new high school, she expects things to be hard on her, she is twelve after all. But then she meets new friends and life becomes easier. What isn't so easy is growing up.

Oliver Queen met Felicity when she was twelve and he treated her as nothing more than a friend, well, except for when his big brother tendencies kicked in. Until one day, something in his life changed. He looked at Felicity as she was growing up and began to realize that he didn't want her as a friend anymore.

By the time, Oliver was man enough to admit his feelings for Felicity, he went away on the Queen's Gambit only for it to sink. Now that he has finally made it home. He has to win her back.

This is a multi-chapter au fic that follows Oliver and Felicity through high school and into season 1.

This first chapter I am submitting as a story for Olicity Hiatus-Fic-A-Thon for the prompt Out of Place. Please bear with me as this is my first multi-chapter fiction for the Arrow Universe. (And I swear I am still trying to get to used to Tumblr. One day I will learn all the tricks. Today is not that day.)

Chapter 1

                        “Here’s your class list, Miss Smoak,” the counselor said handing over a sheet of paper. “I assigned Mr. Loren to help you get acquainted with the school. We’ve found here at Starling City High that having a mentor is much more conducive to learning the school faster than handing over a map.”

            The counselor waved a young, long-haired brunette over and Felicity noticed his shy smile. She did her best to return it but her stomach was tied up in knots. This was her first time changing schools since she was seven and her mom and dad split up. But this time was different. Now she was also in a whole new city and so much younger than any of her classmates would be. Felicity almost wished she didn’t take that placement test that confirmed that she was ready for high school, because she was beyond out of place, she almost felt out of her league.

            “Michael, this is Felicity Smoak, the girl I told you about yesterday. I would appreciate it if you could help her out over the next week or so as she becomes acclimated to not only our school but Starling City.”

            “Hi,” he said to her. He reached out for her book bag. “If you want I can show you your locker and to your first class.”

            “Thanks.” Felicity followed him out of the guidance counselor’s office and looked over her schedule. “Do we have classes together?”

            Michael nodded. “First and last period.” He seemed to think that over for a moment. “And I think lunch too. Want me to come find you? Lunch can be a little intimidating to newbies.” He laughed at that. “Not that I’m not much more of a newbie myself but at least with two weeks in, I kind of know the lay of the land in there.”

            “That’s okay. You don’t have to if you have other people to sit with.”

            “Its fine,” he assured her. “It’s not like I,” he waved down at his Metallica t-shirt and ripped jeans, “am one of the cool kids or anything. And I’m definitely not one of the ‘untouchables.’”

            Felicity glanced over at him in confusion, as Michael stopped in front of a locker. “What’s an untouchable?”

Michael laughed. “Trust me you are bound to find out, but they are the super-rich kids. Doesn’t matter what they do. They could burn the whole school down and nothing ever happens to them. And any one of their friends automatically becomes one too.” Michael tilted his head toward the locker. “This is you.”

            “Thanks.” Felicity took her bag from him and put on her new lock. “They sound snotty.”

            Michael chuckled and Felicity smiled at how pleasing the sound was. “Snotty? No. Snotty is for the cool kids. To the untouchables, we don’t even exist.”

            Felicity considered that during her whole first period. No one in her class seemed to look down on her. Most just ignored her completely. The rest, as expected, heckled her. She was a twelve year old freshman after all. Though Michael seemed to cut a lot of the teasing off, for which she’d be forever grateful.

            By the time she reached second period, Felicity was grateful for Michael escorting her around. She knew with the size of the school she would have never found her class on her own. At least not in time to get there before the bell rang.

            And when she sat down, she kept her head lowered. It was a learned trait through the years after she jumped a grade before. Now that she also skipped eighth, it seemed that she’d develop a permanent kink to her neck.

            Being new to the computer lab, the teacher assigned her a partner to familiarize herself. Only her partner was apparently just as new to the class as she was.   

            “Do you understand any of this?” the blonde asked as she scanned through her book in an attempt to find out what the teacher was talking about. “Because I am completely lost.”

            “It’s basic coding,” Felicity told her. “The system is already set up. You just need to plug in the answers from the book.”

            “Why do we need to build a webpage anyway?” The girl looked over at Felicity and studied her holding out a hand. “I’m Sara. Sara Lance.”

            “Felicity Smoak.” Felicity shook the girl’s hand and smiled. “You know I think part of the problem is that we’re on the wrong page.” Felicity nodded at the kid nearby. “Looks like they are on page thirty.”

            Sara glanced down at the book between the two of them. “Crap. Someone tore that page out of mine.”

            Felicity reached around and grabbed her book from her bag, plopping it open on top of Sara’s. “I got it.”

            “This is so much easier when we know what we are doing,” Sara told her a few minutes later.

            Felicity had to agree. As the class wore on they typed side by side in companionable silence. Somehow between the two of them they both managed to finish the project and start on the one for the next day before the bell rang.

            Cleaning up their books, Sara nudged Felicity. “What period do you have lunch?”

            Felicity pulled out her schedule. “Fifth. Why?”

            Sara’s smile brightened. “Me too. You should totally have lunch with me and my friends.”

            “I don’t know,” Felicity said indecisively. “I don’t want to bother you. Your friends might not want me there.”

            “How about I check with them, and if they’re cool, you eat with us tomorrow?”

            Felicity shrugged. “I guess that would be okay. As it is, I have this mentor, Michael Loren.” Felicity paused to see if Sara would have any recognition of the name but there was only a blank look on her new friend’s face. “He wanted to show me around the school better during lunch. He felt it better to do it then so I don’t get heckled.”

             Sara frowned and followed Felicity out of the door. “Why would you get heckled?”

             “Because I’m twelve and in high school. And I’m not exactly cool or anything.” Felicity waved down at her Hello Kitty shirt and black skort her mom insisted she wear.

             “Hang with me and that will change,” Sara told her. “Tomorrow you’re going to have lunch with me. I don’t even care if my sister agrees or not.” Another bell rang giving out a warning that they only had another minute to reach their other class. “I have to dash. History is all the way across the building.”

             “Bye,” Felicity called out. She almost wanted to do a happy dance. Somehow she had made a new friend on her own who didn’t care how young she was.

 OQFSOQFSOQFS

             “Where are you heading, Ollie?” Sara asked as she caught up to him in the hallway of their high school.

            “Lunch.”

            “Me too.” She smiled up at him and shifted her backpack to the other shoulder. “I had to switch English classes and now I have lunch this period. Which you probably already know.”

            Oliver glanced down at his girlfriend’s younger sister. “Laurel never told me why you switched classes.”

            “Because Home Economics was cancelled. All the people had to be rearranged after they couldn’t find a long term substitute. Mom told me to take a computer class instead but it was the same time as English.” Sara shrugged and entered the lunch room once Oliver held the door open for her. “I don’t mind. I hated the teacher I had. Every time she talked to me she would compare me to Laurel.”

            “Mrs. Sears?” It had to be her. Oliver remembered how much she gushed over Laurel during their freshman year.

            “Yep.”

            Oliver chucked Sara on the chin. “You’ll be fine. I gotta go meet Tommy and Laurel. Are you joining us?”

            “Yeah, but I’m supposed to meet the new girl here,” Sara told him as she scanned the lunch room.

            “New girl?” Funny. Tommy had never mentioned that there was a new student. And considering it was a female, Oliver knew Tommy had to have the scoop.

            Nodding, Sara took another look around. “Felicity. Yesterday was her first day. I met her in my computer class. I told her I’d eat with her.”

            “Then be sure to bring her over.” Oliver spotted Tommy and waved. “Looks like we’re over there.”

            “Okay. Thanks.”

            Oliver nodded and went to grab a tray. After waiting behind some testosterone-laden jocks, Oliver finally headed for his friends. “Hey, guys.”

            “Ollie.” Laurel threw herself at him the second he set his tray down. Her hands swept through his hair as she pulled him down for a kiss. “I missed you.”

            Tommy rolled his eyes heavenward and Oliver held back his smile so Laurel wouldn’t see. “Wow. You made it a whole three periods without interaction. It’s amazing you lasted this long,” Tommy teased.

            “Shut up, Tommy,” Laurel told him, sitting down next to Oliver. She tugged her tray across the table in front of her from where it had been next to Tommy’s.

            “I just saw Sara,” Oliver told them.

            Laurel sighed. “Why does she have to do everything I do?”

            “Because she’s your baby sister and that’s what siblings do. Or so Oliver tells me,” Tommy joked.

            “Speedy’s okay.” Oliver shrugged and took a bite out of his cheeseburger.

            “Hey, everyone.”

            Oliver glanced up and saw Sara at the end of the table by Laurel and Tommy’s sides. Standing next to her was a young girl with long brunette hair. It hung straight and practically covered her face the way she was hunched down.

            “Morticia Adams much,” Laurel whispered in Oliver’s ear.

            “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Felicity Smoak. Felicity, this is Tommy Merlyn. My sister, Laurel. And her…” Sara stopped and Oliver looked back up at her from taking another bite out of his food. “Oliver Queen.”

            Well, he’d been wondering for the last few weeks if Sara had a school girl crush on him. Her statement, or lack of it, pretty much confirmed it. And from the look in Tommy’s eyes, he caught it and it was most definitely something that was going to be brought up in gym class later.

            “Hi,” the young girl said nervously.

            “Have a seat,” Tommy offered and moved his books from the seat so she’d have room to sit down.

            “Thanks.”

            Oliver watched as she tucked her hair back behind her ear revealing more of her face. She looked young. Super young. “Where are you from?”

            “Las Vegas.” Felicity fiddled with the container of milk in front of her, almost destroying it from ever being opened.

            “Cool. I love Vegas. My dad promised that we’d be able to hit the strip during Thanksgiving break.” Tommy gently took the milk from Felicity’s fingers and opened it for her and set it back on her tray before his attention turned to Oliver. “We’re still going, right?”

            “I don’t know if my dad will let me,” Laurel admitted. “He wasn’t exactly happy after that class trip we took to the ski resort last spring.” Laurel bumped Oliver’s shoulder. “You know that’s your fault, right?”

            “How was I supposed to know, Tommy over here,” Oliver gestured to his best friend, “would let it slip we shared a room?”

            Sara started to choke on her soda from down the table next to Felicity. “You what?”

            “Oh, shut up, Sara. You know we’re dating.” Laurel popped a grape into her mouth while glaring at her sister.

            “Maybe I should go.” Felicity began to stand, grabbing her tray.

            “No. Stay.” Oliver jumped up and grabbed her arm. “You have to excuse us. We’ve known each other forever. It’s okay. Sit back down.”

            “Hey, Felicity.”

            A boy stood at the end of the table. A total geek by the look of him or maybe a Metalhead. Felicity had only been here a day. How did she know this guy?

            “Hi, Michael.” Felicity’s cheeks turned pink as she shyly gazed his way.

            “Wanna have lunch with me again? We can talk about that project we were assigned for Biology.”

            Felicity glanced around at everyone at the table. “Would you mind? Of course you don’t mind. You don’t even know me.”

            Her eyes settled on him as she babbled and she pointedly looked down at his hand still holding her arm. Slowly, Oliver released her. “You’re more than welcome to stay.”

            Laurel tugged at Oliver to try to get him to sit down. “If she wants to go, Ollie. Let her.”

            Oliver glanced down at his girlfriend. Her tone held a tinge of jealousy which was strange because Laurel had nothing to be jealous of. Especially, not of Felicity or of the guy who invited Felicity away.

            “Thank you,” Felicity said pointedly at Oliver. “But I think I’ll go with Michael.” Felicity practically ran to the kid’s side. “Thanks for the invite, Sara. I appreciate it.”

            “Catch you later, Felicity,” Tommy called out as she began to move away and Felicity waved at him and smiled at Sara. Her eyes never touched on Oliver or Laurel.

            “Where’d you pick up that geek?” Laurel asked her sister who scooted down to be closer to the group. “Even you can do better than that.”

            “She’s in my computer science class.” Sara pulled out her history book and placed it on the spot she vacated. “She’s so smart even you look dumb.”

            “I doubt that.” Laurel threw her hair over her shoulder. “I plan to be valedictorian when we graduate.”

            “She’ll probably be ours too. Only she’s two years younger than I am.”

            Juice spewed out through Tommy’s nose and he began to choke. “She’s twelve?”

            “Why you so worried, buddy?” Oliver teased. “You weren’t planning to ask her out were you?”

            “Might as well. He’s dated everyone else.”

            Oliver’s eyes shot to Laurel. Wow. That was catty even for her.

            “No. I’m just surprised,” Tommy defended and shoved a fry in his mouth.

            Laurel faced Oliver, her brows lowered. “She’s not even here anymore. Why are we still talking about her?”

            “She has a name,” Sara told her sister. “It’s Felicity.”

            “I don’t care what her name is.” Laurel ran her hand over Oliver’s arms as she snuggled closer to his side. For a moment, Oliver almost felt the need to shift away. “So, are you going to help me convince my father that I can go with you to Vegas?”

 OQFSOQFSOQFS

             Felicity sighed as she shoved her books into her locker for the fifth time. She wasn’t tall enough to get them on the top shelf and there was already so much stuff on the bottom where she could reach.

            “Let me help.”  

            Tan hands grabbed for the books and shoved them up onto the shelf. It would’ve been more helpful if they didn’t fall back so far that she couldn’t reach them.

            “Thanks.” Felicity turned and found Oliver Queen standing behind her. His hands were now shoved deep into his designer jeans. “I hate to impose since you’ve been so helpful, but is there any way you can move them closer to the edge? I have to jump to reach them as it is.” Felicity shrugged and tried to tease, “Unless you’re willing to come back next period and get them for me.”

            His face went from casual to a frown and Felicity berated herself for trying to joke around with him. It wasn’t like she knew him. She met him for like two minutes the day before when she almost had lunch with Sara and the group she hung out with.

            “I can come if you need me to.”

            “You don’t have to,” Felicity assured him. “It’s just I don’t think I can reach them where they are at. Plus, a senior like you probably doesn’t want to be seen with freshman like me.”

            “I’m actually a junior.” He stepped closer and stared down at her. It was disconcerting. The guy was gorgeous. Felicity hadn’t seen someone look like him. On television and magazines sure, but never in person.

            Oliver reached over her head and Felicity breathed in the musky cologne he wore. As he stretched the t-shirt he was wearing pulled up from the waistband of his jeans and Felicity gulped at the strip of his skin that was so close to her. “There you should be able to reach them now.”

            Felicity dragged her eyes off of Oliver and glanced behind her. That’s when she realized he had shifted the shelf so that it was slightly lower than before. It was now accessible to her if she stood on her toes as opposed to her jumping like a crazed kangaroo to reach it like before. “Oh. Wow. I didn’t know it could do that.”

            “It was a good thing I was here then.” Oliver grinned down at her and Felicity’s heart momentarily stopped. “Well, I need to get to history. I’ll catch up with you later.”

            “Uh-huh.” It was all Felicity could manage before he waved and walked away. Grabbing her gym bag, Felicity closed her locker and leaned back. It wasn’t fair that there was someone out there who looked like Oliver Queen. Sure there were models and actors, but no one of Oliver’s caliber had ever shown up in her universe before.

            A hand waved in front of Felicity’s face. “You okay?”

            Felicity managed a nod and focused on the face in front of her. “I’m fine, Michael.”

            “C’mon.” Michael Loren grabbed her gym bag from her shoulder and swung it over his own. “I’ll escort you over to the gym.”

OQFSOQFSOQFS

             “What’s up with you and Felicity?” Tommy asked as he caught up with Oliver at the airport. “And before you saying nothing, know that if I’ve noticed than Laurel sure as hell has. And an angry Laurel in not what you want to return to after a fun-filled trip to Vegas.”

            Oliver groaned. He had already dealt with an annoyed Laurel that morning. She had shown up at his house bright and early to try to convince him to stay home since her father denied her access to go on the trip with him and Tommy. She hadn’t acted jealous at the time. Not that there was any reason to be. He had been helping a friend over the last few weeks. Nothing more.

            Felicity reminded him of Speedy. And if Thea was put into the same situation of dealing with a new town, a new school, and she was so much younger than everyone else, Oliver only hoped someone would help her out. Just as he had been doing with Felicity. She was nothing more than Sara’s young friend who hung out with their group sometimes for lunch. And if he helped her out with her books on occasion it was nothing more than what he would do for his sister if they were close enough in age to be in the same school.

            Oliver shrugged. “So, what if she noticed?”

            Tommy nudged Oliver in the shoulder and grinned before heading for the pilot who had arrived. “Keep working on that.”

            Oliver glared at his best friend. What the hell? Felicity was a child. Had she even hit puberty yet? What Tommy was suggesting was gross. It turned Oliver’s stomach to think of Felicity in a sexual manner. Much as it would to think of Speedy eventually growing up and dating.

            There were plenty of women out there in the world who threw themselves at him on a daily basis. Oliver hardly needed a pre-pubescent in his life. Women like Miranda Peterman. A lush twenty-something stockholder’s wife who made sure to introduce herself after dinner the other night. The two of them enjoyed dessert long before Raisa’s chocolate soufflés were ever served.

            “Ollie!”

            Oliver spun around and saw Laurel running toward them, her suitcase trailing behind her. “Laurel?”

            “Mom talked Dad into letting me go.” She ran up and jumped up into his arms. But she pulled back when he didn’t grab her and gave him a questioning stare. “Aren’t you thrilled?”

            “Yes. Sure.” Oliver reached out and pulled her in for a kiss. “I couldn’t be happier.”

            “Great.” Laurel wrapped her arm around his and the two of them entered the area that would lead them to the Merlyn jet.

            “Oh, great. You came,” Tommy said with a grin when he spotted Laurel. “Let’s go or we’ll be late.”

 @almondblossomme @thebookjumper @olicityhiatusficathon

  Notes:

Preview of next chapter:

Oliver studied her and Felicity ducked her head to avoid the direct heat of his eyes. But they raised up quickly enough when her lunch tray disappeared from in front of her. “Hey,” Felicity said as he took it from her. “I was eating that.” “And you can finish it. Over at the table with us,” he told her in a no nonsense tone. Now it was Felicity’s turn to analyze him. Oliver was always so light-hearted and joking. To hear him so serious was a definite change. “I’m not feeling up to eating with someone.” Felicity reached out and tried to grab her tray back from him but he only held it over her head. Easy since he was so much taller than she was. “Please. Give it back.” “No.” Oliver turned and walked away with her food. He grinned at her over his shoulder. “You want to eat, you have to eat with us.” Felicity sat heavily back on the bench of the table. She debated just letting Oliver keep her food. She had only been nibbling at it anyway. But, her stomach chose that moment to grumble. “Fine.” Grabbing her book bag, Felicity walked over to where Oliver, Tommy and Sara sat. For some reason Laurel wasn’t there. “You have my lunch.” Oliver waved at the seat next to Tommy where her lunch tray sat. “Sit down. We don’t bite.” “Speak for yourself, Queen,” Tommy joked and proceeded to chomp at Felicity.

[thechocobros]

“SEE LUNA SAFE TO ALTISSIA” - part 9

Pair: Nyx Ulric / Lunafreya Nox Fleuret

Previously: Message me if you wanna know, liks don’t work on tumblr ;)

Words: 5074

Plot: Libertus warned Nyx about Glauca being Drautos, so Luna and Nyx didn’t fell in the Empire’s trap, Nyx didn’t had to use the ring and he survived. What would have happened if Nyx really had the chance to ‘see Luna safe to Altissia’, like he promised to Regis? Chapter 9: Nyx and Luna arrived in Tenebrae, where they meet Ravus. 

Personal Comment:  This chapter is the end of the fluff. Brace yourself for some angst now, It was time. Special thanks to my dear @loveiscosmicsin , the best beta reader I could ever have <3

In the hall of the royal castle of Tenebrae a deafening silence thickened the air and nothing was audible if not the breath of Nyx, Maria, and the Fleuret siblings.

Even if Nyx protectively tried to conceal Luna behind his back, the princess stepped ahead, filling the distance between her and Ravus. 

“I somehow expected your return, Lunafreya,” the High Commander said with a wistful smile on his face.“The call of home was far too enticing to ignore.”

“Though I sought comfort within these familiar walls, I did not stop pursuing my goal, brother. But this time, I’m the Empire’s captive no longer. I’ve regained my freedom after the fall of Insomnia, so please, don’t sever my automony. Don’t tell the Empire I’m here.”

While the two siblings were sharing one of the most intense moment in their relationship, Nyx took a minute to observe the new High Commander of the Imperial army. He saw him briefly in the chaos of the takeover, but Ravus Nox Fleuret appeared to be a different person now. The Glaive could joke that he couldn’t recognize the noble without being surrounded by flames. Metal casing had been grafted upon the injured arm. He really was different. His hair were whiter, like he suddenly aged in that short amount of time, but at the same time his facial features rejuvenated, stronger but seemingly sickly. The Glaive also noticed something underneath the permanent crease of his eyebrows: his eyes were glowing in two different colors, one blue like his sister’s, the other purple, heterochromia. The controversy between good and evil got more remarkable in him when he didn’t answer at his sister’s plea.

In fact, Ravus tightened his jaw and closed his eyes, struggling with an answer which couldn’t come out. He just stepped ahead, reaching out with the metallic arm and gently touched Luna’s shoulder. Even as he sensed that the elder sibling would do no harm, not jumping to intervene took Nyx’s willpower.

Brother and sister look each other straight in the eyes, an unspoken conversation took place that only siblings could decipher. There was sadness and regret on their expressions, aversity but also affection and all these emotions disappeared at once when Ravus directed his attention to Nyx.

“Why does he have the Ring?” he asked, his sneerheld no love for the outsider and his eyes held contempt for the man’s presence.

Nyx boggled, wondering how he could have noticed it since the Ring was well hidden under the shirt. Could the man somehow sense the Ring’s power?

Luna’s voice – mingled with determination and strength – moved to avert the crisis. “Don’t you dare, Ravus.”

The Glaive didn’t dare to react and just stood firm, lifting up his chin to face the former Prince of Tenebrae, watching him hesitate and grinned at the commander’s frustration.

Luna sensed his brother’s uncontrolled rage and her only concern was that Nyx wouldn’t be able to face him without his magic, so she decided to intervene on Nyx’s defense and simply took him away, hoping to have a better opportunity to speak with Ravus under calmer circumstances. She hoped that her brother wouldn’t have fight her in front of Maria and other servants but she couldn’t have the confirmation of it until she took Nyx’s arm and pulled him away. As they headed to her chambers, Luna kept glancing at Ravus, who tore his gaze away from the retreat.

The High Commander sighed, furrowing his brow and looking numb. In the end, he couldn’t do anything else, but ordered to Maria to follow them and help them to settle down.

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

 “I have a bad feeling about that guy.” Nyx commented as they reached the corridors where they wouldn’t be heard by anyone. Luna didn’t stop walking, but she was clearly tormented with the sudden family reunion. “Do you trust him enough that he wouldn’t rat you out on your arrival?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“It depends on what options are weighing on his mind to secure my well-being. This could cause problems in whether I’m permitted leave or we’re prisoners.”

That sentence impressed Nyx for some reason. For the first the possibility that under the grudge of the High Commander could be found a caring brother worried about his little sister. Yet, since he didn’t knew the details of the situation, he couldn’t tell for sure, so he decided to keep mum and follow the princess around the castle for a tour.

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

 Nyx was impressed by the elegant and stunning architecture of the castle. He was used to the primitive style of Galahd. Between his homeland’s small but comfortable houses built in wood and stones, or to the majestic buildings of Insomnia, with its metropolitan and chaotic life, Tenebrae was a total different level of greatness.

White was the prominent color, but the details were in pastel like blue, purple, green, pink and that made every piece of the landscape a pure piece of magical art. Talking about art, that could be found everywhere: the statues of deities at the corners of the corridors, the paintings on the wall, the mosaics on the floor. All that was assembled in the finest elegant way and the result was a fairy talesurrounding, weirdly coming from a fantasy book.

Luna took Nyx to her room, she didn’t even know why. She just wanted him to know where it was.

The smell of flowers gave precedence to the presence to dozens of bouquets in all corners. The light filtrated through the high windows, painting in blue and yellow, the shining floor.

Nyx stepped in the room with a reverential respect, like he was entering in a holy temple but stopped to allow to Luna to wander in it first. The princess was clearly getting emotional in coming back to the chambers where she had so many fond memories, but at the same time she tried to hide it, maybe fearing to be judged for her sensibility. She was wrong, of course. Nyx would have never judge her for being nostalgic of her happy times, on the contrary. He was a big fan of her showing emotions and he proved it by asking:

“Is it weird to come back here? After what happened?”

Luna took a minute to explore the room, to check if everything was as she left it. She answered only when she delicately touched the curtains of the window and looked outside. “Yes, it is. In this room I spent the most beautiful part of my childhood with Noctis but at the same time… I was hardly able to leave at my leisure. I developed my sense for white magic here. I cultivated dreams and hopes here. And now, I come back after seeing Insomnia falling, King Regis dying and people suffering. This room makes me ponder on the past more than I should and helps me to remember what I left home for.”

Nyx nodded and then started to walk around, hands behind his back, studying every detail with curiosity.He stopped in front of a mannequin with a beautiful white dress on it. Though he was used to see Lunafreya dressed in white, he could tell by the special attention reserved to it that that gown was different from all the others. 

“…Your wedding dress, huh?” he murmured, his voice imperceptibly breaking.

Luna turned around and noticed what he was looking at. Her forehead frowned in sorrow, remembering her lost hopes and dreams. When she tried the dress months before, she knew she wouldn’t ever actually used it, not even for Noctis. Even so, being a bride was one of the things she always dreamt of being. That’s why she chose it so carefully. 

“Yes.”

Nyx tightened his jaw and forced himself to not reply. The feelings he was feeling were disturbing and he didn’t like them. He didn’t know what Luna was thinking right now, but what he did know was that the former Princess of Tenebrae Lunafreya Nox Fleuret would have married the Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum of Lucis, because it was literally included in the armistice King Regis agreed to. Yes, he always knew that. But now that he got the chance to know that specific princess - now that she wasn’t just a promised symbol of the peace anymore - and stood by her side every moment in the last weeks. Now, mentioning the royal wedding felt different.

Nyx didn’t like to admit he was jealous because that would have been pathetic and reductive. Jealousy was not the right definition for his feelings. It was something more layered, somehow complicated, and he still didn’t understand what exactly. He would have figured by the beginning of the next day. For now, all he knew was that imagining the princess in front of a mirror, trying the long white gown she would have wore for her dream wedding with another man suddenly started to hurt him.

“I bet you look beautiful in it.”

Luna watched carefully at him, pondering the trail of his thoughts. She wanted to say something but she couldn’t and maybe she shouldn’t have either. She laced her fingers, tightening the grip between the gaps like she wanted to wring them. 

Suddenly, a familiar bark surprised them both.

Luna raised her chin to watch at two beautiful dogs running to her.  “Pryna! Umbra!” She kneeled down, extending her arms for them. Both dogs started to happily lick her face and neck.

Nyx turned and observed the scene with a smile. “A message from Prince Noctis again?” he asked, again,jealousy in his tone.

Luna shook her head and sighed, understanding why the dogs came and feeling touched by that unexpected help. “No, this time they came for me. They must’ve known how much I needed them.”

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

 Nyx understood immediately that his job as bodyguard there in Tenebrae would have consisted in letting Luna enjoying her time alone. She didn’t need to tell, he was acute enough to notice. So he just positioned himself next to the door, watching over her without interfere in her private space. 

As a matter of fact, Luna’s intention was just to spend some time in solitude, this time without the Empire monitoring her movements. 

After the first moments spent thinking about Ravus’ intentions, she decided to think to something more pleasant and opened her wardrobe, caressing the material of her beautiful clothes, admiring the accessories she had and that nobody took away from her. She explored the library, opened her favorite books, examined some notes she took who knows how long ago. Sometimes, she felt like thinking out loud, explaining to Nyx what was this or that object, why she got it, what it reminds her of. Most of times, the Glaive didn’t answer. He knew how to be the perfect ghost to talk to and she needed nothing else but that: falling back in the nostalgic dream of her childhood where she found closure.

That’s all she wanted: saying goodbye to the child inside her, the girl she was before and to step forth as the woman she had become now.

“Lady Lunafreya?” That call woke Luna up from her ministrations. It was Maria, the old nanny. “Dinner will be served soon. Where do you prefer to be served? I can take some food here or prepare the table downstairs in the dining room.”

The princess thought about it and then smiled. “Downstairs, so I will have the opportunity to wear one of my dresses again.”

Maria seemed enchanted by the idea and made a short bow before she happily went to finish the preparations.

Luna glanced at Nyx with a renewed and glowing smile.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Like what?”

“Like you want to ask me to give you fashion advice. Not my area of expertise.”

“I was not going to ask you that.” She objected, then raised an eyebrow. “I was just wondering what color you prefer.”

Nyx snorted. “Not white.”

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

 Easier said than done. More than half of the clothes in the princess’s wardrobe were white and angelic, so Luna took the chance to explain that weirdness:

“Ravus and I - as heirs of the Fleuret lineage - are tasked to dress in white. I do like other colors, but I can’t actually wear them if not in informal occasions. That’s the protocol.” That was just another evidence which showed how much the princess was forced to hide her true preference in order to respect other people’s decisions. Nyx merely grunted and chose not to comment on it.

He just stepped out of the room when Luna was changing, but after fifteen minutes, he heard Luna’s voice calling for him:

“Nyx, could you please come in?”

He entered back again, thinking to find her all dressed and ready for dinner but stopped when he saw her in front of the screen mirror, with a long stunning emerald dress loosen in the back. “Would you mind…?” she asked, pointing at her beautiful pale and naked shoulders.

Nyx squeezed his eyes, mouth opened.

“Princess, you’re not helping me to stay cool.” Even if he was complaining, he was already approaching her, actually eager to help her out especially in that very specific situation.

“It’s just a dress, hero.”

“…I’m not talking about the dress.” He was talking about what the dress didn’t cover. He slowly reached out for the zip, taking all the time he needed to admire how smooth it looked her uncovered skin, the perfect form of her visage. It frustrated him that she just wasn’t conscious how sensual she looked right now. Not able to resist, when he zipped up the dress Nyx casually let his fingers slip through until he touched her spine, making her shiver. Even if those little actions were new for Luna, she was already getting addicted to them and had no intention of stopping the encouragement. That’s why she didn’t shrink back, on the contrary, indulged on it. It was like years and years of self-control disappeared every time Nyx got closer.

“Will you come to eat with me?” Luna asked when she felt sure not to stutter. She adjusted the necklace in the moon’s form on her neckline and glanced at him in the mirror.

Nyx sighed, screwed by every single move she made. “It depends. Will your brother be there too?” he asked, pretending not to take her invite seriously.

“Does it really matter?” she replied, grabbing his arm and elegantly walking out of the room with him. Nyx was surprised to see her audacity, but at the same time he welcomed it gladly.

They went downstairs through the huge hall, descending the stairs like they were both royalty and the Glaive joked about it:

“I’m not dressed properly for such an event, but… I have to admit I always wanted to do this.” He whispered at her ear and then lifted his chin very dramatically. Luna giggled and shook her head.

When they arrived in the majestic dining room, they found out they would have been alone. Ravus was not coming. Maria couldn’t say why. “I just couldn’t find him anywhere.” She had explained.

This worried both Luna and Nyx, which sharing a glance stood there in silence for a minute. Maria tried to not look to concerned, even if she was: “I suppose I’ll save a plate for Lord Ravus in the meantime. We should serve you the dinner anyway, Lady Lunafreya. Have a seat.”

Nyx moved a big chair in white wood so that Lunafreya could seat, then he stepped back. Even if he was a member of the Kingsglaive, he knew the protocol of the Crownsguard, too, which wouldn’t allow to him to sit down with her.

But Luna didn’t care. She grabbed his arm and said, “I was serious about my invitation before, Nyx. We could eat together.”

The Glaive hesitated, looking around to all the servants standing there. “Princess, I don’t know if…” Even if they shared more intimate moments than a simple dinner, for the first time Nyx felt like he shouldn’t have dared that much. After all, he was only a soldier. A bodyguard. In the hierarchy, he was not really different from Maria or the servants next to her.

“Would you really let me eat here all alone?” Her eyes were so sad that Nyx’s heart melted. With a big sigh, he took a chair and sat next to her.

“Fine. Let’s have it your way, as always.”

Luna looked extremely pleased but the servants were surprised - even shocked - by the decision. They served a lot of people at the Fleuret’s table but nobody of them was a commoner, an informally-dressed immigrant bodyguard at that. Etiquette didn’t translate. Anyway, they didn’t have other choice but to start to serve the appetizers, which Nyx accepted with a really comical expression.

“I’m sure it tastes amazing… For a small appetizer,” he whispered, not wanting to be heard.

“You can’t blame the cooks of a royal palace to prepare elegantly small dishes. That’s the way it works.”

“Isn’t there a Kenny Crowe restaurant in the neighborhood?” Luna giggled, drinking wine from a very expensive crystal glass.

They continued on that line for almost all the evening: Nyx lightly mocked the aristocratic way of eating and Luna tried not to laugh (with poor results) to not offend the chefs.

When they finished with dinner, they tried to have a relaxing stroll in the garden - at that hour surrounded by glowing lights and colors, which made the atmosphere extremely romantic - but that was quickly interrupted by Maria: “Lady Lunafreya, I need to discuss with you in… choosing the color of the curtains.”

“Excuse me?” Luna asked, legitimately puzzled for the request.

“Yes, and also it’s starting to be cold here in the garden. You better come inside.”

“I’m not cold." Luna said, her tone getting even more surprised.

“But milady, none of us wish you to catch your death of cold before the wedding with Prince Noctis.”

That was when they understood. Maria was clearly acting weird but that sentence put her true reasons under the spotlight. Both Luna and Nyx felt the embarrassment sneaking in for some reasons and they realized they were going too far for the general opinion of the world. They bowed heads and bit their lips.

“Very well.” Luna finally answered, not lightly. She was sincerely enjoying the Glaive’s company but - thinking on cold mind - she couldn’t disagree with Maria: things slipped out of control and maybe she dared too much with Nyx. Eating and having romantic strolls with the her attractive bodyguard instead than her future husband wasn’t exactly what people expected from a chaste bride-to-be. Especially if that bride was the Princess of Tenebrae and the Oracle of Eos.

Luna reluctantly followed Maria inside, looking for Nyx’s eyes to say sorry, but the Glaive preferred to avoid her glance.

He would have rejoined with her later, probably finding her sleeping already in her soft bed, hugging Umbra and Pryna. He would have watched over her, true to his duty as always. Maybe he would have also smiled looking at how beautiful she was before going in his own room to spend the night. 

But for now, all he wanted to do was to be alone in the garden, asking himself how could a mere Glaive with no magic and no title could possibly earn the right to cherish her.

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

 Sleeping in her own bed made Luna feel like a child again, young and carefree. On the other hand, when she woke up and realized where she was, she remembered about her duty and what was about to happen.

Umbra was not there anymore, but Pryna lifted her ears and started to wag her tail. Luna caressed her head for a couple of minutes then went to the toilet, taking the nightgown off and checking the scars on her stomach. They were not dark black, just light grey, but they were stable now. That was the sign the changes on her body were starting to get permanent. She could thank the Stars they were not visible on her arms and legs at least. She wore her usual lace dress, which had been accurately washed by Maria. After that, she immediately thought about her brother’s disappearance and wondered if he returned.

She couldn’t deny that meeting him after all that had happened made her feel uneasy and even scared, but in the deep of her heart, she knew how much Ravus still cared for her. She questioned the weight of that love so many times. For example, when he tried to trap her in the room and dragged her to the Empire’s side just to keep her close to devastingly wounding Commander Ulldor’s dominant hand so he may never face combat nor raise a weapon toward Luna ever again. She couldn’t blame his motivations, just his methods, but even so she couldn’t forgive him for what he did to Regis. Her unwillingness to forgive frightened Luna because she loved her brother before Insomnia’s fall. But now the situation was creating a chasm between them that couldn’t be possibly be filled. She didn’t know if she could trust him again.

There was just a way to make amends. She would have to speak with Ravus. The day before she ran away from him just because she wanted to avoid a fight between him and Nyx, but now she would have look for him, and question him about his true intentions. After all, he still was her brother and deserved at least an honest conversation.

Thinking about all this, she found herself in the hall where Maria and some others servants were waiting.

“Have you seen my brother?”

Maria bowed. “No, milady. We couldn’t find him and…”

This was not good. It was potentially dangerous, actually. Lunafreya entwined her fingers and started to think with a very worried expression on her face.

“Maybe I know where to find him,” she said, her big blue eyes almost wet, and then quickly walked away.

“Wait, Lady Lunafreya! It’s not good for you to leave without protection! The Empire’s troops could see you and–”

But Luna was already out of the huge door, running towards the rising dawn.

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

 She had to walk for a very long while until the castle became just a small construction in the background. Beyond the gazebo surrounded by roses and beyond the flourishing garden, there was a large field that nobody took care of where sylleblossoms grew wild. Luna always thought she was bonded to that place because of Noctis, but if she had to speak the truth, before him, that was a special place for her and Ravus. It was Ravus the one who took her there for the first time and it quickly became the only safe refuge where they would run to when they needed to stay alone.

Luna thought she would have find him there, and even if she wasn’t excited to face him she knew that confrontation was an inevitable consequence. Things needed to be settled… Before her departure for Altissia.

Lunafreya slowed down when she left the garden’s gates to arrive in the field. At every step she took, her heart sunk deeper in her chest. The light of the dawn was shining through the disappearing fog, painting things in yellow and green. There she saw her brother, sitting on the grass, occupied with a profound meditation, surrounded by the blue flowers she liked so much.

Luna took a deep breath, imagining already how painful how this conversation would end up being and how much it would be if it was delayed any further. She called for him anyway.

“Ravus!”

Her brother lifted his chin and looked over his shoulder. Even if he was unfazed by her intiative to seek him out, Luna understood he was surprised to see her. The princess got slowly closer, her knees trembling.

“I thought you did not wish to see me. Had I erred in my deduction?”

“Was that why you disappeared yesterday?”

“I do not know why you are present in Tenebrae now.” Ravus stood up to face her, tone apparently calm and balanced. “Your sole plea for me was not to reveal your presence to the Empire. But I am the High Commander of the Niflheim Empire, sister. To respect your request, I had to keep my distance and make it so that no other eyes could follow you.”

Lunafreya narrowed eyes, puzzled by the sentence.“What have you become?” Ravus looked down, not able to answer his sister. “Brother, what has the Empire done to you?”

“You are well-aware that the Empire is currently posulating dominance it does not possess. Know that our ‘masters’ are merely puppets in a much larger scheme, exactly as we both are resigned to our roles. You for a reason, I for another.”

“I know.”

“Yet, you desire to participate in it.” Ravus’s voice was broken in confirming the act and it broke Luna’s heart to hear this unexpected vulnerability.

“Yes. Just as you have.”

“However, our paths are different, our similarities end right there. You care for the sake of the entire world and I sought to protect you from your recklessness. Our objectives leave a glaring quandary that neither of us could ignore.” Luna was anxious because of his honesty, feeling that for the first time in his whole life he was admitting his affection. “I do not fancy your death, sister. I could not bear losing another relative. Not again.”

“Is that why you’ve sworn your allegiance? That’s why you raise your blade for the glory of conquestand vaulted order? Just to have the chance to save me? Even in doing so, you doom Eos?”

“The price the deities are asking you was just too high.“ His voice started to get higher, revealing the depth of his anger. Not only did he want to save Luna, Ravus also sought to unmask the cruelty of the system they were subjected to. "Gods are no gods if our prayers are not met with mercy and guidance we deserve in exchange. They are undeserving of our worship if all solutions came with senseless martyrdom in the end.”

But Luna had arguments for that, she was prepared to face those objections since she was a little girl. “They’re the only ones that can give their blessing to Noctis. With the blessings and the power of the kings, Noctis will reclaim his throne and banish the darkness from our world. It is equivalent exchange to me. My life is a scant thing compared to all this.”

What she wasn’t ready for was what Ravus replied next:

“Have you informed him of this? Have you told Noctis that his life is nothing compared to the Astrals’ and Old Kings’ will as well? Ignorance shrouds his eyes. He could not possibly know that his life, too, must be offered in order to complete his destiny. And how many people perished because of him? Insomnia fell in a single night because Regis relinquished the lives of innocents, bystanders of this prophecy, to save his only son. The endless cycle of death and despair could not be possibly worth that. It is utter nonsense and you should not encourage it! Do not be another victim in this game.”

Luna closed the eyes hearing that, words stabbed at her like a knife in the stomach. She came to terms about her own sacrifice, but thinking about Noctis - the only friend she ever had during her childhood - broke her heart in thousand pieces.

"And furthermore,” he continued, balling his hands into fists. “You have people caring for you in this world. You are a source of inspiration for all Eos. The Empire gave you certain freedom during the years because they knew how much people love you. What will they do when you will be gone? Who will give them hope? You can’t trust them to go on their behalf once the darkness arrived.” She covered her lips with both hands, moving away and turning her back to Ravus.

She repeated what she already said once, suddenly her arguments were weak as they have never been before: “I have faith in Noctis. He will accept his fate as I did. He will reclaim the throne and he will be the one giving people hope.“

“And then he will die too because he simply doesn’t have a choice, does he? You will be dead by then because the Six extinguished your life! Tell me, Lunafreya, do you have signs of fatigue, signs that unveil the truth of how close you are to death? You are paying the ultimate price. Day by day, your very life slips through your fingers like sand! Cast away the disillusion and glamour that has caged you all your life!”

Luna stopped walking and looked down at the flowers, seeking comfort. But she couldn’t find it, and that made her realizing how valid Ravus objections were. Anyway she was strong enough to add in a firm tone: “I trust in Noctis.” She believed in the True King and her cherished friend and meant it, the Oracle would repeat her belief endlessly regardless of her brother’s arguments. “He is our King.” She didn’t know what else she could say. The Noctis’ card was literally the only ace in the sleeve she had.

Ravus had to walk towards her, his diatribe continued. Her elder sibling always had a fiery temper and the next he opened his mouth he couldn’t help but scream, “Sister, cease this madness! That boy will never be king!”

“Noctis is chosen. It is ordained. You of all people should know.” The last remark was uttered merely to spite Ravus, knowing that he had been rejected and to end the conversation. It proved uneffective.

“I know that you’re throwing your life away!”

“That may be! But it’s my choice!” she screamed her grief until she realized her throat was raw, turning around to face him again. But when Luna did, she noticed Nyx some steps away from Ravus, totally shocked, his eyebrows narrowed, the fists closed. She couldn’t discern how long he had been there, but one thing was sure: he heard everything.

And facing him would have been far worse than facing her brother’s desperation.

[brightlotusmoon]

A little more Spirit And Oxygen

Here’s another sneak peak at my TMNT fic, “Spirit And Oxygen: Across The Universe” which is part of my “Mikey The Lifegiver” fic series. It chronicles Mikey’s adventures in major depression, brain damage, and being the actual heart and soul and light of the team. http://archiveofourown.org/series/599863 This will probably be the final story, which means it might as well be a chapter fic, which means that this is officially Chapter One. Yes. I feel good about this. Stuff that is my heacanon here:  1) Shinigami is in a polyamorous relationship with Karai and Michelangelo, and the ladies have their own bedroom in the lair. 2) Raph has taken a shine to Shini and her attitudes on life and is so proud his little brother has such an awesome loveperson who is also banging his awesome sister. 3) April has finally decided to try dating both Donnie and Casey, although she’s spent more time with Don, and Casey doesn’t mind. 4) Splinter and Shredder are dead. Shredder killed Splinter and then the boys teamed up with Karai to kill Shredder, and Leo decapitated Shredder after Karai punched Shredder in the heart after Mikey knocked out Shredder with a kick to the face. Shredder’s henchmen have teamed up with Purple Dragons and other gangs, and have recreated robot Foot ninjas. Splinter appears as a spirit to the Hamato family. 5) The Mighty Mutanimals are very involved in the turtles’ lives. Mondo has learned first aid from Dr Rockwell and engineering from Don. 6) Leo and Karai have been duel sensei-ing and still argue over who gets to be Actual Sensei. 7) Abandoned military bases are turned into hide-outs for the more vicious, feral, and angry mutants in every borough. Mikey, Mondo, and Shini like to try and find them to befriend the tamer, friendlier ones. Karai and Raph wind up getting angry out of love and fear. 8) Mikey is Donnie’s assistant in the lab and is a field medic who uses his emotional empathic reach to comfort the injured; he can be telepathic when he tries hard, but it gives him migraines. 9) Mikey has developed epilepsy following a brain injury, but it also boosts his spiritual powers. He and Raph share an empathic connection. ...I really got attached to Deanna Troi and Jean Grey when I was a teenager, okay? Also, I am happy to discuss where the rest of the story might go and how and why. I’ll often switch to several perspectives in one chapter, like April (Storm) or Karai (Iron) or Ghost Of Splinter (Wind) or Shinigami (Magic). Mostly I’m just in love with writing Donnie talking about Mikey.  (PS, Mikey is Oxygen, duh. Don is Earth, Raph is Fire, Leo is Water. The Tumblr post for Mikey The Lifegiver is the second most popular blog post I’ve written so far. The first one is me waxing pagan about winter gods) Also, for my regular readers: You knew this sort of thing was gonna happen again. It’s all I write. Apparently, though, since 1999, I’ve had the most  wonderful contemporaries and competition. You hardcore Mikey fans, you’re the best, I love you all.

Donnie’s dreaming hard again, and he cherishes it. Usually is dreams are soft and quick, minnows in a stream, full of chrome and rust and the scent of oil, and there are tiny things in his hands, beeping and whirring, and there are giant things in front of him, clicking and rumbling; and the scars all over his hands reminds him that these are his, he made them, and they make sounds at him as though they are praising him.

Almost a year ago, shortly after Splinter died and Shredder died and Karai moved in, things began happening that challenged every science imaginable, but Donnie learned to be completely fine with it. Aside from Leo and Karai in a constant subtle battle over who would be sensei, Raph mellowed out and Mikey stopped pranking. Donnie was the only one who recognized Mikey as the catalyst: after enduring a series of traumas that they wouldn’t wish on their enemies, Mikey had become quieter, softer. His odd hyperfocusing moments turned on books without pictures and science documentaries and Donnie spent three weeks spying on him; it was no surprise when Mikey caught him each time, because Mikey had changed the most. Donnie and April ran every single test, and Mikey endured them with a strange fidgeting patience, but Rockwell in the end explained that Mikey’s Dimension X brain had finally caught up with him. He was almost like April. Don stopped being surprised when a beaker full of An Unusual Chemical dropped from his hands and floated back up to the table, despite it only being him and Mikey. Mikey, who folded his arms and grinned cheekily, and that was the day Donnie went to the closet and handed him a lab coat with his name on it.

Between their rotating autistic traits and interests, Donnie with engineering and physical science and Mikey with social sciences and cultural studies, they managed to create Things that made the lair easier to live in. With Mikey around, it was easier to navigate the entire city and study humans’ patterns, so certain stores, warehouses, junkyards, and clinics would stay their “borrowing” targets. With Donnie around, they had vehicles and cloaking devices to move further and deeper in.

So Donnie dreams heavily, about jumping from roof to roof in Staten Island, looking for that one military facility that up until now always had staff. Mikey is right behind him, ready with both kusarigama and grappling hook. Donnie stops and signals, and Mikey presses right against his carapace, wrapping one arm around his waist, extending the other to aim the grappling gun. Don signals again, and Mikey pushes off and practically flies – scratch that, he literally glides – and Donnie feels perfectly utterly safe as he casually throws an arm around his little brother’s shoulders. Mikey wouldn’t let them drop; they’d only hover. That’s how good he’s gotten. The grappling hook keeps catching on roof edges and Mikey lets it hover and glide to the next and the next, and they keep going.

They’re on the roof of the facility, over a mile from where they started, and Donnie pries open the secret door and they move in, and their flashlights roam. They remove their backpacks when he finds the correct room, and collect the items he’s already listed on his T-Phone. It’s silent, it’s swift, and the only thing that warns him is Mikey’s hiss and his voice in Donnie’s head: Donnie, get DOWN—

And Donnie flattens himself on the floor and the creature grazes him with a long metal toe as it leaps over him, and his right shoulder and bicep both rip open wide and his body spills blood rapidly. But it’s not the pain that makes him scream. It’s the strangled screeching gasp, full of pure agony and horror, that Mikey makes from somewhere behind him. No living creature should be making a sound like that unless it’s about to die...

There is precious seconds of heavy silence, and he hears Mikey make that familiar, inhuman growl that all the turtles make when enraged, when their human sides shrink and their literal reptilian brains take over with crushing power. The creature howls in pain and shock, and Mikey lets out a roar that contains Donnie’s name scrawled into it, and then there is crashing, there is stabbing, punching, shrieking, snarling, bones cracking and flesh squelching and liquid spurting and other noises that Donnie will hear in his post-traumatic nightmares. Donnie crawls forward, collapses on his back, turns around and forces himself to stand.

The creature has Mikey pinned to the ground, and shadowed blood is pooling everywhere. And then Mikey kicks and flips the creature over with a furious shriek, and through the darkness Donnie sees his teeth flash in a savage grin, you do not want to see that kind of smile on Mikey’s face, and Donnie sees him coated in shadows, launching again at the creature, smacking his nunchaku again and again…and then the creature stops moving, stops making noise; and Donnie hears his own harsh, pained breathing, and his brother’s harsh, pained breathing, and he manages to call out, “Mikey, are you okay?”

There’s a pause. “I’m always okay, Dee,” comes a breezy reply, but it is thin and strained. “Hey, Dee, what’s hurt on you?”

“My right shoulder and upper arm, but I can patch it up. You?”

A longer pause, much much longer.

“Can I take a raincheck on answering that?”

Donnie feels his gut turn to ice. “Mikey?”

He sees the dark figure of his brother hold up a finger. “Just…gimme…a sec.”

Within that second, Mikey falls to his knees. Donnie feels himself lurch forward. His eyes strain. The shadows on his brother are not shadows. They are too shiny. He’s covered in it.

No. No. Please, no, not again, I can’t handle this again.

It’s not the blood loss making Donnie feel so dizzy. He struggles to move, and watches, in slow motion, as Mikey falls over completely, smacking the floor, and it is a wet smack, and liquid is still pooling around him. And Don starts to hyperventilate, because he’s not sure where the light switch might be in this room and where the first aid kits are, and suddenly the darkness is too dark and the floor opens up and he is being swallowed, and he cannot reach Mikey, and then he falls, and as he falls his T-Phone rings, and something presses its energy button, and it’s blaring in his ears, louder and louder, calling MIkey’s name.

Donatello bolts up screaming, and it is too dark and he can’t see. A door crashes open. A body launches at him, and before he can take another breath, a pair of arms are wrapped around him and a plastron is pressed against his, and his chin is on a broad muscley shoulder, and the scent he breathes in is pure Raphael.

“Raph,” he squeaks out. “Hey--”

“Sshhh, Donnie, easy,” the hoarse voice murmurs. “It was a dream. You’re okay.”

He finds himself awkwardly patting his older brother’s upper carapace, trying to politely pull away. “Raph…Raph, I realize that…can I breathe? Please?”

Raph pulls away, green eyes serpentine in the darkness of his bedroom. The way his head tilts, too.

“I’m fine, Raph. I promise. I know it’s a nightmare.”

Those eyes and that head tilt remain fixed on him.

“Donnie, this is your fourth nightmare. Do you realize that?”

Really?

“Um. No?” He’s been so busy between his lab and the sectioned-off infirmary that Rockwell and Slash and Casey helped build that he sometimes doesn’t remember going to bed.

“Well, it is. And I’ll bet it’s the exact same one. Yours are weird.” Raph sits back, agura style, and Donnie draws his knees up to make room. “They’re like clockwork. Once a week. And, y’know, this is the fourth week since--”

“I know. And you guys dragged me to my own bed when you knew I wouldn’t stay here.”

“You did this time,” Raph points out.

“True. Wait, I did?”

“Congratulations on a full twelve hours of sleep, bro. It’s ten in the morning.”

Donnie feels his eyes grow wide. He throws the covers off and jumps off his bed. “I’m missing work, I--”

Raph’s strong hand slaps against his chest. “Remember what we all agreed on? Until your shoulder and arm is fully functional, you don’t do anything complex without someone helping you. I hope you were planning on asking someone.”

Donnie narrows his eyes. “Do you know how to handle the complex alien chemicals I need to work on? Plus the newer components of the retromutagen?”

“If not me, you have April. Or Rockwell. Or Shini.”

Donnie sighs, looks at his immobilized arm, and sighs again.

“You’re a stubborn bastard, Hamato Donatello.”

“You’re worse.”

“I am a paragon of complacency, little brother.”

And Donnie winces. “Try not to call me that?”

“Oh. Right. I forgot. You’re right. Sorry, Don.”

Donnie sighs and gets dressed.

“Um.” Raph rubs the back of his head. “So, nothing’s changed this morning. That’s…like, good, right? Kinda?”

“Kinda,” Donnie says. “It means that Mikey is continuing to heal. Which is the best we can hope for in this situation.”

As he heads out of his room and toward the lab doors, Raph catches up. “You should eat something first.”

“I need to check his vitals and change his IV bags.”

“Karai did that.”

“Even the GI tube?”

“Yeah, that one too.”

Donnie pauses. “I just need to see…”

“Donnie.” Raph is impossibly firm, and very soft. “Donnie, everything you could do has been done. We’ve watched you and learned from you for a whole month. It’s a routine. And part of the routine is that those of us who aren’t doing the routine help ourselves first. It’s your turn.”

Donnie is very silent as Raph steers him toward the kitchen. Leo is finishing up a plate of eggs, toast, and tea. Shinigami is making two more plates.

“Oh, you got him up! Good morning, Donatello. Did your nightmare complete itself?” The witch’s smile is knowing and polite, and he has gotten used to her specific brand of sass. She is, after all his little brother’s girlfriend and his sister’s girlfriend.

He mumbles “yes” because shrugging his shoulders still hurts. He eats mechanically, even as he is poked at to make conversation. Raph has started giving him daily protein shakes. There is one next to his plate. He drinks it and crushes the bottle, casually proving how fine he is. Sometimes the others forget how strong he is.

He misses having Mikey around to defend him.

“I’ll be in the infirmary,” Shinigami says, and Donnie startles. When he looks at her, he sees dark, deep circles under her eyes. Her fair complexion is blotchy and even paler than usual. And he wants to slap himself. She loves him. She has so much love, she loves Mikey and Karai so much. And Karai, to see her baby brother like this. Abruptly, he stands up, wraps his arms around Shini, and grips her like one of Mikey’s famous octopus hugs.

She simply buries her face in his neck and holds him tight.

 * * * *

Donnie is at his computer. As he’s reading and copying notes, he can’t help but hear her from the infirmary corner, and after a while he gives up trying to ignore it. He stretches his neck to catch a glimpse.

Shinigami has been sitting by Mikey’s bedside for fifteen minutes, and she only started speaking a couple of minutes ago. Don sees her hand tighten around Mikey’s as she talks.

“…keeps insisting nothing hurts, of course, but I refuse to believe her. Even when she shifted back and forth to her snake form, I could tell her arm was giving her trouble. Even the snake looked sad!” A small laugh, humorless. “Oh, sweet Mikey, you should see the looks she gives me when I point out her pain. She thinks I don’t see it. I see everything about her.” A pause. “I see everything about you too, you know. I see the subtle shifts in your facial muscles when you slip one of your behavior masks on. You know what I mean. When you fake smile, or your laugh is not real? I see it. You should not ever be sad, my Mikey. I told Karai I would do anything to protect her. Now that promise extends to you. Therefore, you must recover from this. You must hold me again so I can tell you I love you. You must hold me tightly, like an octopus, and laugh into my hair, and spin me around, and talk about your comics and your television shows. Tell me about Hamato Yoshi and how he adored you. Tell me about your brothers and your adoration of each of them, how they are your heroes. You and Donatello are very close. I know you wish to have so much knowledge and skill the way does.”

Donnie bites his lip and blushes a little. He almost feels like a sensei, in a way, the way Mikey looks at him while he works or while he is showing Mikey a project. He pictures the last lesson they’d had. April was there. She and Mikey were side by side, chins in their hands, looking at him lovingly, freckled faces and blue eyes alight, looking like mischievous twins.

He wants Mikey to wake up and look like that again.

He doesn’t know when Mikey will wake up. That hurts him most of all. This coma is different, deep and frightening. Mikey lost a lot of blood, and the mutant hit him in the neck, and Donnie knows how bad that can be. Concussion. Oxygen loss. Brain function compromised. Brain damage. Mikey already has enough. Donnie is worried.

Shini’s voice startles him.

“We miss you, Michelangelo. I miss you. I…need you. You must come back soon. Please.” And Donnie watches as Shinigami leans forward and presses her lips to Mikey’s, and smiles. She squeezes his limp, broken hand again. She stands up and begins to walk toward the door, then changes course, coming toward the lab. Donnie blinks at her.

She smiles at him. “What you working on?”

“Oh, um…” he glances down. “Taking notes on neurobiological function in humans and reptiles. I believe our brains are almost fully human, but we probably have neuronal and hormonal responses similar to diamondback turtles, too.”

“Mikey will sometimes make little noises,” Shini offers. “They’re not human.”

Donnie nods. “Yes. Chirping. Cooing. Growling. A kind of purring growl, like churring. Hissing.”

He shifted through the pages, wrote down some more notes.

“You aren’t going to do that all day, are you?”

Donnie glances up. Shini has leaned her hip against the table and is smirking. “Leo wants everyone in the dojo for training. Is this very important?”

He bites his lip, looks at his screen. “I guess it can wait until later.” He saves the file. Shinigami takes him by the elbow and steers him out of the lab. Interestingly, Raph is waiting there, arms crossed. He smirks and nods. “Good. Good Donnie.” Shinigami giggles, as if the two had planned it.

“How’s Mikey?” Raph asks, automatically.

Shini just shrugs. “The same. Karai wonders if I can use my witchcraft to find him in the astral plane. It is a thought.”

Raph raises an eyeridge. “Damn straight, it’s a thought. He’s been healing pretty well. Maybe it’s time to try reaching out to him instead of waiting for him to wake up.”

Donatello sits up straight and snaps his fingers. “It can be a family effort!” That seems to light a fire in Raphael, and he joyfully reaches out to fistbump Shinigami, who has a wide smirk on her face and a glint in her eye. Donnie feels stronger and happier than he’s felt in weeks.

[setsunatama3]

AN/ so if you read the announcement then you knew my sister was pregnant well there is excellent news my family is welcoming home a new baby boy. it put me in a rather good mood so here is a new chapter for you guys.I also hope that you all are doing well and staying safe during this covid-19 pandemic. don't forget to wash your hands and practice social distancing. Don't follow me on twitter for any updates. Also, I have put the poll on my twitter as well as my (p) atreon posing whether i should genderbend ren. now those of you who are like but ren is a man well i have this to Say I will develop some backstory on him and i figure why not add in a bit of og mulan to. like i intend to do for nora as well. And so vote would you kindly... don't forget to check me out on twitter at /setsunatama3 for any announcements from now on. notice I also post on the following sites Wattpad at 773701195-the-maelstrom-of-remnant-chapter-one-exile Archive of Our Own at /works/20596958?view_full_work=true deviant art at: setsunatama3/gallery fanfiction at: s/13280840/1/the-Maelstrom-of-remnant Tumblr at blog/setsunatama3 ficwad at /story/279918 due note that i post on my patreon first and they get early access to my work.

Chapter 22: bonds

When Cinder came to, she felt empty yet whole. Complete for the first time in years. Her eyes widened when a surge of power all her own. Had flowed in her veins. Yet it was not the distinct thrum of power that a maiden held. That was a sensation she knew intimately. It was unforgettable, even though she had only had half. Almost addicting in its allure. So subtle had she not given up the power, she shuddered at what it would have made her become.

While focusing on the new power she felt within herself. Cinder couldn’t help but wonder why it felt so familiar. Like a part of herself she had forgotten. Yet she knew it was a part of herself she would never have willingly forgotten about. Her familiarity with it was such that it was like it the last time she had used it was yesterday.

With just a thought, Cinder had brought the power flowing to the surface. She was so caught up in the experience. She jumped from shock when Naruto placed his hand on her bare shoulder.

“Don’t,” Naruto said, having sensed her power rising. Yet to his mild surprise it felt like chakra mix of and Aura at the same time. Just like the ANBU he had fought earlier. Yet he could tell it was so much more than that. And knew it bore investigation at a later time.

Blinking away her shock, Cinder wondered just how much time had passed. “Naruto, what time is it?”

“It’s eleven PM. while inside a mindscape time passes differently only about an hour has passed Cinder.” Naruto explained.

Cinder couldn’t help but let out a meek, “oh” in response.

“Lay down, I am going to form your seal.” Naruto informed her.

As cinder did as she was told. She couldn’t help but flush from embarrassment. Exposed and naked as the blonde focused on her form. It was as if he was looking through her very being and into her soul. Such was his concentration.

Even as his brush trailed up and down her body, Naruto never lost focus as he channeled his chakra into her. Cinder could feel his power flowing into her form with each stroke of his brush. It was an indescribable ecstasy. 

While Naruto maintained his focus on forming and priming the seal with his chakra. Kurama fulfilled his own part. While communing with the other bijū along with Naruto and Sarada, they all channeled a small portion of chakra through Kurama. While he did the same shaping and moulding his chakra and the gifted portions melding them into one form. 

With his task done, Kurama did not need to wait long. Naruto was done moments after him.

The two then worked in concert with one another. Their power reached its peak as Naruto burst into a golden cloak of fire like energy. His eyes shone a verdant red with concentric rings and nine tomoe. While a slit pupil rested in the center of each eye. And at his back were the famous nine truth-seeking orbs. Made of an obsidian black so dark they seemed to absorb light.

In the moments before his transformation, Cinder felt his power before she could see it. It was all-consuming power at the surface. Yet comforting and like a warm embrace in its totality. It was a terrifying juxtaposition. 

Then the sealing script that covered her body from head to toe glowed a bright red as Naruto raised his hands palm up. Orbs of flame sparked to life in each hand. One an azure blue, the other a vibrant red. As he started the ritual that would change this world forever. With one goal in mind to give this world guardians that would rise. Should anything happen to him or Sarada. 

As he brought his hands together he spoke aloud, “Banbutsu Sōzō no Jutsu,” when they met there was a flash of light and in place of the flame was a small black fox wreathed in blue flames with nine tails. About the size of a kitten.

The flames surged forth, consuming Cinder yet not burning her. but seeping into her form as warmth filled her chest. It was only when the diminutive fox kit lept from Naruto’s hands and onto her chest. Where it gazed directly into her eyes. She felt Naruto place his hands on her abdomen, four fingers on each side of the spiral seal on her navel.

Unable to move or react save for the widening of her eyes, it shocked Cinder. When the newborn Bijū kit spoke. In a deep voice. “So father she is to be my bonded partner?!” it was a statement filled with excitement and curiosity rather than a question.

“How odd, one in your situation would show a bit of fear under these circumstances. Are you not afraid of me, human.” the Bijū inquired.

The mere question filled Cinder with a sense of indignant ire. 

With a widening of those animalistic eyes and a smile that showed rows of teeth. The kit barked with laughter. “Hahaha, I like you, human!” the kit exclaimed as its deep voice softened to a soft feminine lilt. Revealing it to be female.

Cinder’s eyes hardened, her ire rising. As the Bijū shook with laughter. Her resolve hardened into diamond. And the Bijū ceased its laughter, quirking a single brow. As if to say really now. 

“Ah, now I see that is a fine resolve you have there. With a desire to protect those who you care for.while you have faltered on your path. Worry not with me on your side, you will never falter again. Together we shall embark on a path of discovery and truths.” the Bijū kit declared.

Her eyes widened as the fox was reading her like a book. And with that damnable grin, she spoke to Cinder. “Figured it out, have you? Yes, I Can read the minds of the weak willed and sense negative emotions. But in your case it is because of our forming a bond that your thoughts are so clear to me.” 

As the script rapidly crept closer to the seal on her stomach, the fox kit spoke up one last time before Naruto finalized their bond. “However, we don’t have long before father ties your fate with my own. Remember, this father brought me into this world to be your guiding light. You will never be alone again.”

With those words, the flames disappeared. Soaked into Cinder’s flesh as the bijū’s tails merged into one tail tipped with an azure hue Almost fire like in its vibrant color. And Naruto placed one hand over the other, hovering over the spiral seal. 

With a twist of his wrist he chanted, “Hakke no Fūin Shiki seal!” completing the culmination of his and his father’s work a new version of the Hakke no Fūin Shiki. It’s most important component is the ability for the Bijū to leave the seal without risk to the host. It was no longer a prison meant to contain Bijū. But a tool to help a bond form.

As Cinder stared down at the fox kit on top of her, a dozen emotions flashing through her mind. Her eyes widened once more. As thoughts that were not her own invaded her mind. 

“So human now that we are bonded. I suppose I shall grant you the honor of bestowing. One as mighty as I with a name.”  the newborn bijū communicated telepathically through their bond.

Naruto picked up the kit by the scruff of her neck and scolded her like the recalcitrant child she was acting. “Oi, stop that.”

Trying and failing to give her most innocent look. With puppy dog eyes included for added measure. But under the glare Naruto was giving his child, she soon folded. With a pouting and huffed out, “yes sir.”

It was at this point Cinder passed out, her last fading thoughts despite being garbled were heard loud and clear by her bonded partner.

It took her a moment to understand just what cinder said. while Naruto covered Cinder in her robe and took her back to her room.  And it brought a grin to the kitsunes face. As she thought. “Oh, I think we will be the best of friends.”

]|[

As she was sitting down for dinner with her closest allies. While discussing the latest developments in the world. All felt a tremor of power in the room. It was small yet notable. Had Salem not given her most trusted followers her blessing. It was likely that even as attuned with the land as she was. Even she would have missed it. Had it not been for the constant draw yet small on their aura that her blessed gave in exchange for greater power and more abilities.  It was this connection to her blessed, her pillars of power that allowed her to deepen her connection to the world itself. 

It was this connection that allowed Salem to feel that it was a battle raging between two powers so close to vale. Yet the two were covered in shadows of interference produced by the stronger of the two. What made this even more galling was that she couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. The presence covered all of Vale in a shroud of power, blocking out her ability to tell precisely what was going on in the kingdom.

Such an occurrence had never happened before, ever. Not even when Oz was at his full power and she could feel him like a beacon. A brilliant flame she could practically see even from the depths of her prison. The power felt like an inescapable inferno that she could feel in her very bones. And seemed like she was standing next to it.

Then it just blinked out of existence like it was never there a scant ten minutes after it disappeared. Salem blinked blankly for a moment, then she scowled. Feeling this presence then losing it before she could even track it down was concerning.

Looking to her blessed, who were all collectively waiting for her opinion on the power they all felt. 

Salem directed her attention to her most devoted. “My Slagter, where is Intrygant and Laruam?” she asked.

With golden eyes that spoke of only pain, madness, and a devotion to the woman he considered being his god. He gave Salem his answer. “I believe that they are in a village just outside of Vales borders, along with their knights. Lower Carn is what I believe they called it.”

“And just what are they doing so close to Vale?” quirking a brow out of curiosity, Salem asked. “And why was I not informed of their departure?” she added.

While she knew she did not need to control all of her blessed pillars actions and movement. Salem felt that, at the very least. They should have informed her when they left the castle. She knew they were just here a mere two days ago.

“Ah, that would be our fault my lady.” Salem's blessed pillar of knowledge answered. Adjusting his glasses, he continued his explanation. “Tisserande and I recently came across a breakthrough in our joint research project. And it has reached the stage where field testing was required. And they volunteered to monitor the testing. As they were free, and it was a last-minute request.”

Needless to say that Salem was surprised. The project the two had been working on for the better half of six years with no signs of success. Had finally bore positive results. 

From what she knew of it, the project code named cursed mud. Was an attempt at a new breed of Grimm that could adapt rapidly to combat and by absorbing biomass. It could not only mimic beings and objects. But reproduce more of its kind.

It brought a small smile to her face. Seeing in how this oversight was not on their part but her own. Salem gave a nod of her head. “I see, well inform them that when the testing is over to return, and report the results to the collective. After that we will need to adjust our plans and find out just what the power we felt was.” she informed everyone. 

As everyone went back to what they were doing before. Salem rested her head in her hand as she leaned back in her chair. Propping up the limb on the armrest. Pondering that surge of power. While knowing there was nothing that could be done at the moment.

It would not be until later that she would realise that the surge of power she felt. Would birth another great power from what seemed like the ether itself.

]|[

On board his flagship, the general walked down the halls to the labs of one of the pair of top scientists. His normally placid face bearing a frown. And a building headache. After he had read the report from the men, he had escorted Penny into town. 

Somehow they allowed the girl to slip away.  And yes, it brought a smile to his face when he thought of her that way. Despite the method of her “birth”. To him and so many others, she was just a girl. Not a machine. Penny was born into this world to bring hope. 

Those were the thoughts that made him change how this conversation would go. As he swiped his access card and stepped into the lab. Where he was met by the chaos that was teenagers. 

“Honestly just what were you thinking Penny?”

Sitting idly on a couch fiddling “Bah, quit being such a stick in the mud chase. Our girl here did a fucken bang-up job. If yah ask me. Right, Kazoo?”

Waving an errant hand, “well Cammie, it could have been worse. I think she did well under the circumstances.”' Kazu said, then went back to his guitar.

It was a pleasant change seeing the teens not even take notice of him. It was honestly a pleasant change of pace for James. Anywhere else, whenever the general entered a room. Every one focused their attention on him. Pandering to him, seeking any advantage they could get. It is why he hated politicians. And preferred the company of his men in the military.

But abruptly all conversation ended when winter noticed him. Saluting him with an exclamation of, “General Ironwood, sir!”

Everyone dropped what they were doing and gave a brief salute.

James gave them a small smirk as he said, “at ease.”

As he walked into the room, he directed his attention to Penny. “Penny, while I disapprove of your actions. Sneaking away from your escort was dangerous. I however realise that this was your first time away from Atlas. Places like Vale have dangers of their own. Please don’t let it happen again.”

Now thoroughly abashed and chastised by the disapproval of the General, Penny couldn’t help but let out a meek, “yes sir.” her gaze shifting to her feet.

The general then pulled his scroll out of his pocket. Pulling up the files he needed and had them displayed on the large screen in the room. “However, thanks to your actions, Penny. We have confirmation that the rumors of this Kitsune are true. And also, there are those of his kind that are opposing him.”

On the screen it displayed all the information on the ever elusive Kitsune and Ryu.

And below what information they knew about the pair was a detailed list of their suspected involvement. 

From an analysis of a Warehouse fire, in which the Vale P.D. found the melted remains of Atlas military grade hardware. And human shaped scorch marks.

What seemed like a failed ambush by members of the White Fang in a book store turned into a bloodbath.

“The reason I have had you brought to Vale is because of Kitsune and Ryu.” the general explained. “Take this time to analyse the footage captured at the docks. Learn his fighting style and quirks.” James explained as he pocketed his scroll.  

“Your goal is to if at all possible capture one of them. If not, then when contact is made, give them this encoded scroll. I know what I Am asking of you is a lot. But you are all the best of the best that Atlas has to offer. You are all specialists in the ace ops division.”

“Penny if you would follow me.” the general said as he turned to leave. Penny quickly followed him.

“All right everyone let's get to work,” Winter said as she took command and her squad studied. Everything they had on Kitsune.

It was not long before the ever curious penny noticed that they were headed to the hangar. “Sir, Why are we heading to the hanger.?” Penny asked Unable to hold back her building questions.

“We are heading there to meet your new teammates. They should arrive soon.” The general answered.

After they had made it to the hangar of the Prydwen. The two did not have to wait long as a manta airship landed in the hanger.

The general stepped forwards as the side doors on the craft opened. And three girls stepped out of the airship. 

Stepping to the side to give Penny a clear view of her new team. The general introduced them. 

“Penny, I would like you to meet your new teammates.”

As Ironwood introduced her teammates, Penny took note that all three of her new teammates were dressed in the atlas academy uniform. Comprising a white blazer, jacket and blouse. With a blue skirt. 

“This is your team leader Rosaria Tempestade.” when the general introduced her leader to the girl. Her most noticeable feature, aside from her long white hair tied into a ponytail, was her heteroaromatic eyes. One blue, the other silver. She waved a hand in greeting. 

“And these ladies are Violet Evergarden and Ciel Soleil.” James said as he introduced them to Penny.

“Salutations, I’m Penny!” she said, holding out her hand in introduction. “And I think we are going to be the best of friends.”

As she shook hands with each of them with a smile on her face.

]|[

When Cinder awoke, it was morning, and the sun was shining in through the window. Next to her was the small fox kit that had been born yesterday. 

She turned her head to look towards the two other presences she sensed in the room. Naruto was resting in the chair next to the door and Emerald was in the bed next to hers. 

She did not know whether it was the slight fluctuation in her aura when she woke up. Or something else. But the moment she sat up in bed, the kitsune next to her awoke as well.

And its voice reverberated through her head, “ah, human, you're awake.” 

“It’s good that you recovered so soon, human.” the kitsune said.

Cinder gave the Biju one of her most withering glares. Her annoyance plain as day to see. Her ire only grew as a sense of growing amusement was transmitted. Through the bond the two shared. 

“What do you not like being called human? It is what you are, after all, human.” the kit goaded.

“I have a name, use it!” Cinder hissed aloud.

“Ah, so you do human. But we have yet to be introduced. And what's worse is this noble one has yet to be gifted a name.” the Biju mocked. Taking on a haughty expression, her nose held high in the air.  

It was that sudden revelation that made Cinder feel stupid. The only reason her bonded partner was acting the way she was. Was because she felt slighted that she had yet to be given a name. 

Such a simple concept as a name was one of the few things a Biju guarded with zealous fervor. From what she knew of Naruto’s past. A name is one of the few things that was never and could never be taken from them.

 There were so many choices to make. That for a moment Cinder was at a loss. At least until she remembered just what the being before her promised. To be a guiding light. The phrase sparked a memory.

Cinder and her mother were lying on the roof of their home observing the stars. Her mother pointed to the brightest northernmost star in the night sky. “Dear, do you know what star that is? She asked.”

The young girl shook her head. “No mama, what is it?”

With a small smile, her mother snuggled closer to her daughter. As she told her, “that is Polaris. It gets the name from being the star closest to the northern celestial pole. In the times before modern technology, we used it to aid in navigation. A guiding light if you will.”

A small smile graced Cinder's face as she decided.

“You said to me you would be a guiding light and you should have a name to reflect that.” Cinder said, picking up the kit and holding her in a gentle embrace.

 “Polaris, that is your name. My guiding light.” she whispered, yet it might as well have been a shout to the now named Polaris. 

Squirming in the embrace, Polaris wiggled free. Flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and joy, she fidgeted awkwardly for a moment. Before settling down and looking Cinder in the eyes. “I would like to introduce myself to you, my bonded. In a manner befitting the first-born Biju of this generation.”

With a nod and a small smile, Cinder gave her approval. 

Straightening her posture, Polaris began her introduction as her tail split into nine once more.  “I Am Polaris, first-born daughter of Kurama and Naruto, the nine tailed Biju and as such I Am the strongest of the nine.”

With a tender smile on her face, Cinder replies. “It is a pleasure to meet you Polaris, I am Cinder Fall. and I hope our bond will only continue to grow.”

It was a tender moment for the pair that ended all too soon when Naruto awoke. In truth, he had awoken when he felt their shared energies shift ever so slightly. But did not want to disturb the pair.

Naruto made a show of stretching out his limbs. To show he had just awoken. And with a grumbled, “morning” he left to get ready for the day. Leaving the pair to wake up Emerald.

It was not long after this that the ladies in his care. Followed the delightful smell of food as they headed into the kitchen.

To find three copies of the blond in his true form. No longer feeling the need to hide his appearance from them.

Emerald was immediately on guard the moment she made eye contact with the blonde. Immediately drawing her weapons, the Thief's Respite, “who are you?” she growled.

When she did not get an immediate answer from said blonde as he went back to work. She felt her next actions were appropriate. A crack of gunfire rent the air. As she shot him.

“Poof”

She blinked blankly at the spot where the blonde once stood in disbelief. Where the blonde had once stood was a quickly clearing cloud of smoke. No blonde to be seen at all.

The other two blondes came to the table, hands laden with food for the table. 

It was not until the small fox that had been trailing Cinder spoke, “you know that was a rather rude thing to do to your host.” that Emerald felt like she was truly losing it.

“Em, I think you should take a seat.” Cinder said, directing her to a vacant seat at the table. And taking the one next to her. “We have a lot to discuss. And you need to be caught up on some things.”

All she could do was nod and take the offered seat.

Once Naruto had sat down, Polaris leapt into his lap, snuggling into her father’s embrace. 

Upon seeing the sight, Cinder couldn’t help but let a grin grace her delicate features. As she thought to herself. “Daddy’s girl,” knowing that her bonded would hear it loud and clear. 

Proven when Polaris gave her a withering glare from across the table.

It was amidst the silent air, filled with non-verbal communication and posturing. that Emerald finally lost her cool, “would somebody please just tell me what is going on!!? And who in the hell are YOU!” she blurted out. 

With a grin, Cinder took a small bit of joy in the fact of being one of the few in the know. As she introduced the blonde. “This is Naruto Uzumaki, he is also our benefactor Kitsune.”

And to prove that fact, his eyes flashed that vivid purple. As Cinder added, “and there is much we have to discuss Em”

Rubbing the back of his head nervously, Naruto before they added, “ah, before we begin I Am a clone. So don’t pop me, the boss had other things to deal with.”

It was needless to say that the collective, “what!” did not surprise him.

[splendidlyimperfect]

Sting and Rogue barely escape Sabertooth with their lives, and Sting turns to the only place he can think of to help - Fairy Tail. While they try to sort out their feelings and recover from the abuse Jiemma inflicted on them, Sting and Rogue must help the other guilds protect Fiore from their biggest threat yet - dragons.

Chapter Summary:  Sting fights Rogue's future self, and is conflicted between forgiveness and vengeance.

Chapters (9/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine Characters: Rogue Cheney, Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Erza Scarlet, Lucy Heartfilia, Wendy Marvell, Porlyusica (Fairy Tail), Makarov Dreyar, Laxus Dreyar, Freed Justine, Future Rogue Cheney, Jiemma (Fairy Tail), Gajeel Redfox Additional Tags: Dai Matou Enbu | Grand Magic Games Arc, Abuse, Physical Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Serious Injuries, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Platonic Cuddling, Sign Language, Magic Fusion, Unison Raids, Grief/Mourning, Dissociation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Friendship, Tumblr: FTLGBTales Series: Part 3 of what we choose to become

**Thank you for all your lovely comments! I know this is *super* angsty but there's a reason that "Major Character Death" isn't tagged and I promise that, however bleak it all looks right now, it has a happy ending. <3

-----

“You all need to be touching.”

Freed’s voice broke the haze of confusion and grief as Sting watched Natsu step away from Gray’s body. He refused to look at Sting and Rogue, instead moving to stand next to Wendy. When she reached out to him uncertainly, he jerked away, wrapping both arms around himself and staring at the ground.

“The spell will transfer a portion of everyone’s power to one of you,” Freed explained again for Natsu’s benefit, quickly drawing a rune in the air over Laxus’ chest. It glowed brightly for a moment before sinking into his skin. “After it’s over, whoever is chosen needs to get up there and try to…”

His voice trailed off and Sting felt Rogue squeeze his hand tightly.

“You have to destroy the gate.” Natsu’s voice was dull as he stared at the ground, nails digging into the palms of his hands. “It’s the only way to end it.”

Sting’s heart ached and he wanted so badly to reach out again, to push past Natsu’s pain and pull him close and tell him I’m sorry, I wish I could change things, if I could trade places with him I would.

Continue reading on AO3

“How?” Laxus’ voice interrupted Sting’s racing thoughts.

“The dragon,” Natsu said softly. He didn’t move as Freed stepped in front of him and started to draw the same rune in the air. “It’s big enough—if it falls on…”

He exhaled, as if those few words were all he had and anything else would cost him too much.

“Everyone ready?”

Sting pulled his gaze away from Natsu to see that the runes were complete, and each of the dragon slayers were glowing with a faint echo of their magic. Rogue’s fingers tightened around Sting’s and he jumped when he felt something brush against the back of his other hand – Gajeel.

Natsu kept his arms at his sides, gaze still vacant, but he didn’t pull away when Wendy and Laxus both rested their hands on his shoulders.

As soon as the circle was complete, a searing pain shot through Sting, tearing at his magic and bringing him to his knees. It burned – worse than the blistered skin on his forearms from Natsu’s flames, or the raw, red marks on his back from the dragon’s breath. A horrible, aching sound filled the air, and it took Sting a second to realize that it was him screaming.

It was all of them screaming.

The sound wrenched itself from Sting’s throat as he dropped to his knees, chest burning, hands gripping Gajeel and Rogue’s so tightly he could feel the ache in his bones. Each breath seared his lungs, ripped ragged breaths from him, dragged him further and further down into pain until—

It’s just pain. You know what to do.

Sting shook his head, gasping around the sensation that wound like fingers around his neck to choke him. I can’t, he thought, forcing himself to open his eyes. They need me. I have to make things right.

Wind whipped around the fountain, carrying pieces of debris through the air that tore at his skin and stung his eyes. Through the maelstrom of rubble, bits of magic sparked and leapt between them – bright colors and sparks and flames that merged into a center of prismatic light.

Leave. It’s just pain.

Then Natsu’s eyes met Sting’s across the circle, dark and so full of pain and regret, and Sting pushed the words away. I’m staying, he thought. I have to, even if it kills me.

The pain stopped.

Sting groaned, spitting out the blood that had pooled in his mouth from biting his tongue. The frantic screaming and whipping wind died away, and all that they were left with were quiet gasps and the sound of the war raging on in the background.

“Did it work?” Sting managed, letting go of Gajeel and Rogue’s hands and wiping at his face. He shook his head, blinking to clear his vision, and eventually realized that everyone was staring at him. “What?”

“It’s you,” Rogue said softly. Sting frowned, looking down at his hands. He was glowing, but instead of the usual holy white light, it was iridescent – sparking, constantly shifting and changing as he drew magic from the others.

“Whoa.” Sting stumbled back as another wave of magic hit him full force like a blow to the chest, and Rogue reached out to steady him.

“Are you okay?” Rogue’s brows furrowed in concern, but Sting nodded, taking a deep breath and getting his balance. His eyes widened as he watched the magic tear through the air, different colors siphoning from the other dragon slayer’s chests and merging into something deadly and beautiful before they crept under Sting’s skin.

He closed his eyes, tracing the lines of magic, separating them thread from thread until he could pick out whose was which. Rogue’s magic, already as familiar as Sting’s own, was easy to recognize, and it calmed the nervous thrumming of Sting’s heart as he made room for everyone else’s power.

Iron crept up his throat, sharp and bitter, while lightning raced across his skin like touching a live wire. The hair at the back of his neck ruffled in a quiet puff of wind, and something like poison burned, deep in his chest. Fire, fierce and hot, coursed through his veins until Sting was sure he would burn from the inside out, but it was suddenly tempered by—

Sting opened his eyes again, staring down at his hands. In between the other colors ran a thin, blue line that cooled everywhere the fire burned.  

Sting looked across the circle at Natsu, who was still staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Before Rogue could hold him back, Sting moved across the circle and grabbed Natsu’s shoulders, pulling him into a fierce embrace.

Natsu stiffened against him and Sting squeezed his eyes shut, certain he was going to have some new burn marks on his chest to match the ones on his arms, but the attack he was expecting never came. Instead, Natsu sagged against him, letting out an exhausted sob as they both sank to their knees.

“I’m sorry,” Sting whispered as Natsu gripped his shirt tightly with trembling hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“I h-hurt you… I’m…” Natsu’s words were thick with tears, choked out around the grief that surrounded them both.

“It’s okay,” Sting said, shaking his head and hugging Natsu tighter. “I can’t imagine… I’m so sorry. I wish I could change it.” Natsu shuddered, pressing his forehead to Sting’s shoulder and trying to breathe. They sat for a minute with their grief, and eventually Rogue joined them, running his hand up and down Natsu’s back as he cried.

“We don’t have much time,” Freed said gently. Sting looked up to see another man approaching the group – he looked vaguely familiar, with deep scars through one side of his face. “Mest can get you up there, and then…”

“Okay,” Sting managed. He turned back to Natsu and shifted until they were gripping each other’s forearms. “I have to…”

“Go,” Natsu said roughly, nodding and finally looking up at him and Rogue. “I know.” He exhaled shakily, glancing over at Lyon and then back to Sting. The look he gave Sting tore him apart. “For Gray?” Natsu whispered.

“For Gray,” Sting promised, squeezing Natsu’s arms gently. “I promise.”

~

Being teleported was so disorienting that Sting nearly fell off the dragon as soon as Mest dropped them off. Rogue, who had insisted on coming with him, caught his wrist before he could lose his footing completely. They both scrambled to the middle of the dragon’s back as it rumbled and shuddered beneath them. Wind rushed past them fast enough to draw tears from Sting’s eyes and he rubbed at his face before turning to Rogue and pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“Are you gonna be okay?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the howling wind. Rogue nodded, squeezing Sting’s hand tightly. Sting pressed their foreheads together, taking a deep breath to ground himself, then turned toward the dragon’s head.

“C’mon,” he said, tugging on Rogue’s hand. “Stay behind me.”

They made their way over the jagged scales of the dragon’s back – it seemed oblivious to their presence, making no effort to shake them off. As they moved past its wings, the figure near the dragon’s head became clearer, and when it finally turned around, Sting’s heart sank.

It was Rogue, and it wasn’t.

“Who the hell are you?” Future Rogue snarled. Sting stared, chest tightening at the sight – Future Rogue was both darkness and light, split down the center with a strange tattoo running down one side of his face. Sting could feel his own magic there, mixed with an ugly echo of Rogue’s shadows, and the smell of it made him sick.

“It doesn’t matter,” Future Rogue shouted over the wind. “You can’t stop me. Even Natsu couldn’t touch me.” Thin beams of light and shadows curled between his fingers and he thrust his hand forward, palm toward them. When Sting easily deflected the attack, Future Rogue’s expression darkened.

“I’m not Natsu,” Sting said softly, exhaling as some of the magic was absorbed into his own. It sent an exhilarating rush through him, sparking under his fingertips as the other dragon slayer’s magic rose to meet it.

“How could you possibly—” Future Rogue stopped, eyes widening when Sting stepped closer. “Sting?” Something in his expression slipped, and for a second, he wasn’t a villain, just the scared boy Sting had always protected with his life.

“Yeah. It’s me,” Sting said, holding up both hands in surrender.

“I killed you,” Future Rogue said softly. Something dark flashed behind his eyes and he said it again, voice rough and jagged. “We killed you. We have your power now.”

Future Rogue’s hands lit up again – one with shadow, one with holy light – and he charged toward Sting, face twisted into a feral snarl. Both his blows bounced off the magic swirling around Sting, and Future Rogue staggered backward, hissing in anger.

“Stop,” Sting said desperately, looking back to see his own Rogue’s horrified expression as he watched his future self attempt to attack Sting again. Sting shook his head, pushing back against Future Rogue’s assault with a mix of heady magic that was both all his own and entirely something else.

“I can’t stop,” Future Rogue growled. “It’s already happened.”

“Why?” Sting asked, voice breaking. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I do!” Future Rogue threw himself forward again, this time breaking through and catching Sting across the forearm with a blast of shadow magic. “I have to be strong.”

The pain of Future Rogue’s attack was nothing compared to the grief that tore Sting apart at those words. “No,” he insisted, pushing forward and shaking his head. “You don’t—this isn’t strength.”

“It’s what he taught us,” Future Rogue hissed. “Only the strong survive, and the weak get beaten into the dirt. We’re not weak.”

“Being kind isn’t weakness,” Sting insisted, dodging another attack. “He was wrong, and he’s gone now. We found somewhere new, somewhere safe.”  

Future Rogue’s face was a mix of fury and despair as he charged at Sting again, screaming in frustration when the attack did nothing. “We could never be safe,” he snarled. “There was no escape, just pain, and I had to be strong, and…” He trailed off, and for a second time, Sting thought he caught a glimpse of his Rogue behind the angry set of Future Rogue’s jaw.

“Strong enough to stop her?”

Rogue’s quiet voice came from behind Sting, and when he stepped forward, Future Rogue’s froze. “Shut up,” he whispered, low and dangerous. Sting’s heart broke at his furious, terrified expression – the same look Sting had seen on Rogue’s face whenever he’d come back to the room and been too late to stop Lilith.

“We got out,” Rogue said gently, taking another step forward. “She can’t hurt us anymore. We have people who love us.”

“There was no love for me,” Future Rogue said, but his voice was weak and uncertain. “I had to… I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay to be afraid,” Sting said, taking another step forward. They were close enough to Future Rogue now that Sting could reach out and grab his arm, could pull him close like he had with Natsu and try to fix this.

But Natsu’s words echoed in his head. For Gray. Gray was dead because of Future Rogue, and Natsu was broken, and Sting had promised.

“It’s okay to not be the strongest,” Rogue said softly. He took another step closer to his future self, and the magic around Sting thrummed uncertainly. “This isn’t what you have to become.”

The expression on Future Rogue’s face shifted rapidly, and Sting caught a million different emotions – fear, confusion, anger, embarrassment. All the things Sting had felt when he’d fallen on his knees in front of Natsu and begged him to help save Rogue’s life. Future Rogue wasn’t just Rogue, he was Sting, too – all the broken pieces of them that hadn’t had anything to pull them together.

Fuck. Sting’s chest ached, torn between compassion and retribution. He looked over the side of the dragon and cursed when he realized they were getting dangerously close to the gate. If they were going to do this, it had to happen soon.

“Please,” he said, taking the chance and reaching out to grab Future Rogue’s wrist. “You can be more than this.”

A heavy, tense silence hung between them and for a second, hope flickered in Sting’s chest. Then Future Rogue snarled, shoving Sting back as a blast of energy swirled around him, a dangerous mix of dark and light.

“No, I can’t,” Future Rogue said as the eerie light cut harsh shadows across his face. “I have to destroy it all.”

Sting sighed, looking at Future Rogue sadly, then shook his head. “I can’t let you do that,” he said softly.

Before Future Rogue could respond, Sting pulled all the magic into him, narrowing each sharp burst of power until it fit in the palm of his hand. It coursed through his body, sharp and terrifying and the right kind of strong.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, then opened his hands and released the magic.

The force of the blast pushed him backward toward Rogue, who grabbed his shoulder and held him steady against the backlash of wind that whipped around them. A torrent of multicolored light rushed from his fingertips, tearing everything from him as it raced toward Future Rogue and exploded in a flash of brilliant, blinding light.

A piercing roar tore through the air and Sting quickly clapped his hands over his ears, wincing at the way the noise scraped through his mind. The dragon below them began to shift wildly, head thrashing back and forth as its connection with Future Rogue was presumably shattered.

Sting stumbled forward again, gritting his teeth and focusing all the dragon slayer’s magic into his hands again. It burned, now – too much power to fit into his body – and he let out a pained shout as he dropped down and slammed his fist into the dragon’s back.

“Sting!” Rogue’s hand pulled him back up, and Sting’s eyes flew open, looking over the edge of the dragon at the rapidly approaching ground. They were close to the gate, and a flicker of hope filled Sting’s chest. This was going to work. The crowd that was gathered in the square were shouting at each other, gesturing up at the sky and quickly clearing the area.

Sting shuddered as the magic that had been surrounding him was suddenly ripped from his body, tearing away and spiraling up into the air before streaming back down to the ground, presumably to the other dragon slayers. The sensation left Sting breathless and he gasped, clutching Rogue’s shirt tightly as he struggled to stay standing.

Rogue pulled him close, burying his face into Sting’s shoulder as the ground raced toward them. “Are you ready?”

Sting nodded. “I love you,” he whispered, pulling Rogue in for a desperate kiss before his stomach lurched and he was yanked into the familiar chill of the shadows.