#desmond's laugh makes my heart melt :')

[linusbenjamin]

Lost 2.02 ⨯ 2.23 | Adrift ⨯ Live Together, Die Alone

[beerecordings]

AND FOR MY SECOND TRICK: Desmond!Jackie has activated the Eye and saved the world. And then he wakes up again. (Immediately after, some years after, back-in-time after, you pick. Bonus points for figuring out how Jameson Jackson, soon-to-be-Mentor of the London Brotherhood and Marvin Kazmarek, Animus Subject 16 might play into this. :D)

They think they can catch him.

He hears the laugh bubble from his mouth, breathy and bright in the chill London air. He leaps forward like a stag over rivers, feeling the world give out and drop away beneath his feet before he tuck, rolls, leaps up again and keeps running. Someone screams behind him, shuddering to a stop before the edge of the building, forced to step back and gain speed again before they can leap over.

They think they can catch him. Ha! He laughs without noise and races, just as silent, across the cold pavement of the rooftops. No one can catch him. This is his home, London his kingdom! This is his fierce little body, with hands that have known the blood of tyrants and legs to carry him for miles, swift as a bird! This is Jameson Jackson, assassin, monster-slayer, the quickest and most blood-thirsty little messenger in all of England. Nothing stops him. Nothing catches him. He is the courier, the Assassin, and right now he has a message to carry.

“Stop!” someone is screaming behind him. “Stop, come back! Please, please!”

Come to think of it, he isn't exactly sure what message he is carrying.

Something important, wasn't it? It must have been. It always is, and he is the deliverer.

Where is he going?

This almost pauses him in his tracks, his sneakers skidding a little on the concrete.

Sneakers? He glances down again, hearing the air puff out of him. No, no, not sneakers, of course not. He doesn't even know what sneakers would be. He's wearing his boots. He's always wearing his boots. He doesn't remember them being red.

“You're going to get hurt!” shrieks his pursuer. “Please stop and listen to me!”

Despite their words, remembering that they're behind him only spurs him on to greater speed. Still, he can't recall where he's going. Or even... how he got here.

Or even where this is.

A shaky breath parts from his mouth. He turns sharply and races over the edge of another building. He's beginning to be afraid, but no matter. No one ever catches him. He'll run until he's gotten away, and then he'll gather his bearings, find his allies, deliver the message. Might be he has a head injury. He just needs to keep running.

A huge gap separates the buildings in front of him. He can't jumps it and land on his feet, but his arms are strong too, and his aim is perfect. He leaps, his arm reaching out –

His arm.

Oh, oh.

His right arm is completely gone.

For a second, the Bleeding Effect is gone with it, and London disappears. He doesn't know what this city is – doesn't know where he is or why – but it isn't London, and it isn't 1868.

And he's not... he's not...

“Jackie!” someone howls behind him.

The empty space where his right arm should be threatens his life. He chokes on a gasp and lets out a small scream – what? I can't scream! My voicebox is torn through! – and scrabbles out with his left arm, barely catching the ledge of the building, wrenching his shoulder hard.

Someone crashes into the side of the wall beside him and pulls themselves up on two strong arms, hurrying to grab his wrist and the stump of his right arm, dragging him up. Maybe they aren't an enemy after all. He's too shaken to protest, anyway, letting himself be hauled up over the ledge.

Cool wind rushes past his hair – hair longer than he remembers it. He grabs at what remains of his arm, whimpering.

Burn scars coat his puckered flesh, ugly and red against white. Tears well in his eyes. His arm... this... this isn't right... what's happened to him?

“It's you, it's you,” the stranger is sobbing behind him, clutching him by the shoulders and burying his face against his back. “I thought you were going to fucking fall, Jackie, Jackie...”

His vision flickers. On the streets below, horses and petticoats, top hats and the stink of iron – and then, a moment later, cars and passers-by in leather jackets or puffy coats, phones in their hands, the world racing on around him, surviving, alive...

“What's happening?” he signs desperately, feeling warm hands rubbing at his shoulders as the stranger cries. “I'm dreaming! I'm dead!”

“You're not Jameson, Jackie,” the stranger whispers, voice broken and tired. “Jackie, it's you. It's me, it's Marv. We're in America. It's 2013. You saved the world, Jackie. You saved us. It's you.”

“This isn't real,” he signs, frantic, lost. “My friends! My family! I have to go home! I have to go back to London!”

“You can talk, Jackie, you can talk,” begs Marv, clinging to him. “Please, darling, find yourself again. Here, look at me. Look at me.”

Long brown hair curls around a round face with huge blue eyes. A soft mouth is down-turned in fear, thick eyebrows drawn back in despair. Earrings and a cloak around his shoulders.

He doesn't even remember him, not really, but the sight of him is like a balm to him.

“Say something for me,” murmurs Marv. “You have to start coming back to me. This was a bad one, Jackie... when you got away, I thought maybe... I'm so glad I caught up with you, fuck...”

He stares at him, reaching tentatively out to touch his hair.

“Marvin?”

Marvin's face melts with relief. He hides his face between Jackie's shoulderblades once again and rocks them together on the roof of the building.

“Jackie, my Jackie, my friend... you're not him. You're you. You're here. You're alive.”

“Oh, no,” he whispers, beginning to grasp the situation. “I'm Bleeding again... enough that I forgot who I was... forgot about...”

He grabs his own amputated arm, breathing through his teeth. Shaken. Exhausted.

“It's okay. All that matters is that you're here. That you remember now. That you survived. She couldn't kill you.”

“Couldn't she?” croaks Jackie, beginning to feel his whole body tremble. He stares down at his one remaining hand.

That's the thing he remembers more often than anything. Jameson's hands.

Waking up from the machine, he would see his palms flex the way Jameson's flexed. Reaching out for help, he would see the long and graceful fingers they both share. Lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the great, bright sun of the world reborn, he sees Jameson's hand upraised before him.

The ghost of him seems to reside within Jackie's skin. Ancestral.

You are in the curves of my jaw, he thinks to the image of himself. The cut of my chin, the flash of my eyes. You are in my bones and flesh.

Dividing the image of himself from Jameson? Impossible.

But it doesn't matter, because he died on the 21st of December.

It happened. He remembers. He was there. And his flesh burnt away and his heart overloaded and electricity and power and light filled him up like a vessel meant for nothing else, and in a second the stress severed parts of his brain and killed him.

Dead.

But they came back for him in time, his friends. Don't ask him how Schneep saved him. He doesn't understand it, and, secondly, he doesn't like to think about his friend sawing his arm off in the back of a van on the way to the hospital.

And since then?

Recovery has been – fuck, if not for the healing in what remains of his arm, he wouldn't call it recovery at all.

Jameson Bleeds through every moment of consciousness. London rises up like a ghost from the city around him. Technology becomes incomprehensible at random moments, the people JJ loved make his heart ache with longing and grief, and most of the time, everything is terrifying and large, and he wakes up from nightmares believing he's Jameson, and comes so close to death he thinks maybe he'll have the chance to truly meet his great-great-great-grandfather after all.

Tears are slipping down his cheeks.

“She did kill me,” he sobs. “It's just still happening.”

“No, Jackie, no,” pleads Marvin, gripping his shoulders. “No. You're here with me. You came back to me. That's all that matters.”

“One day I'll die like this!” He grips his friend's arms in return, pulling them to his chest, and squeezes his eyes tightly shut against flowing water. “I can't even remember who I am! Even if I am alive, I'm dead!”

“Jackie – ”

He tears out of Marvin's arms, leaping to his feet, hanging halfway over the edge of that precipice.

“I'm dead!” he repeats, shrieking, tearing at his hair. “I'm dead, I'm dead! I'm gone! Jackie's gone! There's just memory and loss left! I don't know why Henrik brought me back! I let myself die in that fucking machine and now – !”

“Jackie!”

Marvin tears him back from the edge and they crash to the ground together, panting.

Cold stars overhead. Cold wind through his hair. Cold people moving far below.

Alive because of him.

And this... this was the cost.

His shoulder aches. His body strains from the exercise, weak after weeks in hospital, excruciating and endless. He wants to go back to London. Back to people who never even knew his name. He wants to go home to JJ's daughter and sweep her into his arms. She should be his. She is his. Why isn't she his?

He slumps back against Marvin's body, trembling. Aching. Lost.

He's crying into Marvin's shoulder.

Marvin holds him closer and doesn't move.

“Jackie,” he says, again and again, soft, in his ear. “Jackie. Jackie. Jackie.”

An anchor for this ship, rocking on a hateful sea.

He clutches to Marvin and doesn't let go.

.

In his dreams, he is Jameson, and the world is right around him. The sun gleams. He throws his daughter into the air and catches her in two arms.

Jackie opens his eyes.

“Hey,” murmurs Chase, shifting from his guard duty, reaching out to touch Jackie’s wrist.

Jackie stares back at him, feeling like a dead thing. He doesn’t want to think today. He doesn’t think he can.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” says Chase. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard. But you have to keep fighting. We’re going to make this right again. Okay?”

Going to make the world right again. Going to make this right.

He hears the laugh bubble from his mouth. Chase sits back, surprised.

Nah. No way. He doesn’t buy that shit. Yeah, he saved the world. For everybody but him.

“Can’t fix shit for dead men,” he mutters, and rolls over, and goes back to his dreams.

[storytimefromthecreed]

Assassins As Roommates: Meeting the Spartan Siblings

When Maria had popped her head out into the backyard and alerted them the new arrivals had, well, arrived, all those who were not already inside rushed into the living room. “Don’t know why we bothered.” Edward laughed, indicating to the space. Everyone was here. Yusuf, Adewale, Arno, Aya, and Desmond were having drinks with Malik; Elise, Evie, Phillip, Demetri, Gerard, Bayek, and Shay were already lounging on the couches; and Aveline, Claudia, Haytham, and Ezio were peeking out the window.

“They’re here!” Haytham called, and excited rumblings erupted from the group.

“What do you think they’ll be like?” Phillip asked.

“I hear they’re the reason we have the Assassins in the first place.” Ezio looked quickly to his left. “I mean, with respect, Bayek.” 

Bayek raised his hand and laughed at Ezio’s fear. “I understand what you mean, please don’t make it worse trying to explain yourself farther.” 

Aya rose a brow and gave Ezio her famous cheshire grin, “Oh no, I’d love to hear Ezio explain.”

Demetri chuckled with Aya at her joke, but relief didn’t follow for Ezio. This only made them laugh harder. Instead, Ezio looked to the door. Immediately, a stack of luggage was the first thing they saw, and everyone held their breath at the Assassin covered in it. The luggage lowered to reveal...

The group groaned as Connor, red faced, walked inside. Upon spotting him struggling, everyone stepped in. Haytham grabbed the largest bag on top, Elise took the bags from his hands, and Shay took the other two, leaving Connor with two that he look to the stairs. Behind Connor came Altair escorting two strong, proud people. One woman they’d met before and recognized as Kassandra. The man that followed shared her good looks and nice hair, and waved awkwardly around the room.

Jacob’s heart leapt into his throat as applause rang around the room. Kassandra placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and declared, “We’re so honored to be invited here today, and we extend our many thanks. For those I haven’t the fortune of meeting yet, my name is Kassandra, and this is my brother, Alexios.”

“Hey.” His smile was small and awkward, like he didn’t know what to do when not glaring, but his eyes were warm and kind. Jacob would’ve given this more thought had not Edward clapped him on the back, distracting him.

“Welcome to our humble home, mate!”

Excited, everyone introduced themselves to the Spartan Siblings. Jacob tried his best to keep in the background. Curiousity taking advantage of him, he stayed watching them from a distance. Well, one of them. Kassandra he knew from the birthday party, but her brother gave him a strange feeling.

The party continued, the Spartans were helped to their rooms by the Kenways, and Arno, Bayek, Shay, Altair, and Henry went into the kitchen to attend to the food. Tucking in with his sister, Jacob stood awkwardly until the groups all returned and the party began. Needing some air, Jacob headed to the backyard.

Night had fallen, insects sang under a starry blue sky, and the hum of conversation from inside the house could be heard. The lights from the living room stretched over the backyard, and the shadows of those inside elongated in the grass. There was a moment where the sound became clear, then muffled again. Jacob turned to see, to his horror, Alexios bounding up to him.

His hair was tied half up and half down, and he waved his hand awkwardly. “Mind if I join you?” His voice was brass and melted into the night. Not trusting his words, Jacob nodded and looked over the backyard again. “Party getting clausaphobic for you like it was me?” Alexios chuckled weakly, then massaged the base of his head. “I’m Alexios, by the way. I don’t think I introduced myself to you yet.” He stuck out a hand.

Jacob firmly grasped it. “Jacob Frye, pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise.” He smiled a dazzling smile. “Frye? Any relation to Evie?”

“My sister.” Jacob kept his smile plastered on his face, already thinking of what sister dearest could have said about him. 

“She’s very sweet.”

“She is.” Jacob smiled. Alexios’s attempt for conversation was, dare he say, cute? “Kassandra’s pretty badass too, if you don’t mind my saying. Must be fun being her brother.”

“It is, but we’ve only known each other a short time. Long story.” Alexios chuckled, and the pair watched the stars.

Jacob’s heart fluttered like hummingbird’s wings. “Enjoying the party?”

“Truthfully, it’s a little...much.” Alexios confessed with a shrug. “Not that I don’t appreicate everyone coming out to meet us, it’s an honor really, but I’ve never been good in large crowds.” 

Jacob grinned, “Haven’t been doing it with the right people, mate. Come, one drink.” Alexios looked Jacob up and down, a smile beginning to form at his lips. Jacob pressed his luck. “Then I’ll pretend to get sick and you can leave without anyone being the wiser. That’s what I’d do with my gang, the Rooks. I’m pretty good with distractions.” Alexios’s smile grew and his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

“Ok, just for you.” That made Jacob’s heart glow. They walked to the door. Jacob opened it. “Just so you know, I’m a little lame.”

“Lame? Nah, I’m sure you have awesome stories.” Jacob lead him to the table and they grabbed a drink.

Alexios took a sip. “I mean, I don’t have a gang but I have a ship.”

Edward had begun to walk to Jacob, excited his friend has rejoined the party. Elise gripped his elbow, and Connor shook his head. Confused, Edward watched the scene.

“A ship? That’s really cool. I’d love to see it sometime.”

“Maybe we could go sailing.” Alexios bit his bottom lip, and Jacob blushed.

“I don’t get it. Never wants to see my ship.” Edward muttered under his breath. Having taken to siding beside Elise, Connor, and Aya, Edward watched the scene unravel.

“Edward.” Elise hissed, but Edward lamented.

“What? I don’t get it. Jacob’s never been intereted in the Jackdaw before. What’s so about Alexios’s ship?” Edward dropped his voice as Elise had, and leaned in. 

“Stay, have a drink with me.” Aya raised a glass, but Edward, arms crossed and lips in a pout, couldn’t look away from Jacob. Alexios and he were laughing. A joke unheard to the rest of them. There was a twinkle in Jacob’s eye.

“Jacob finds himself a man, greet, finally, thank the Lord; all I’m saying, is my ship’s better.” Edward took another drink and took a step, nearly spitting it when Connor chuckled.

“Not compared to mine.” They left the pair in privacy, and the party continued.

[starcitysirens]

I did the thing. I present a sampling of (some of) John Constantine’s relationships as 80′s Songs

[Zed Martin]  - Johnny and Mary (Robert Palmer)  “Mary always hedges her bets / She never knows what to think / She says that he still acts like he's / Being discovered/  Scared that he'll be caught”

[Marj]  - Lie to Me (Depeche Mode) “Come on and lay with me / Come on and lie to me / Tell me you love me’

[Kit Ryan] - Lovesong (The Cure) “Whenever I'm alone with you / You make me feel like I am clean again”

[Ellie] - Incubus Succubus II (Xmal Deutschland) “Deep down where there is no more light/ In the sky there is no room for us!”

[Gary Lester] -  A Means to an End (Joy Division) “I always looked to you / I put my trust in you”

[Dani Wright] - What Difference Does It Make? (The Smiths) “But now you know the truth about me / You won't see me anymore / Well, I'm still fond of you”

[Angie Spatchcock] - Damaged Goods (Gang of Four) “Sometimes I'm thinking that I love you / But I know it's only lust”

[Stanley Manor] - Down in It (Nine Inch Nails) “Everything I never liked about you is kind of seeping into me / Try to laugh about it now / But isn't it funny how everything works out? / I guess the joke's on me" 

[Rosacarnis] - Dark Entries (Bauhaus) “You took delight in taking down /All my shielded pride”

[Epiphany Greaves] - Don't Stand So Close to Me (The Police) “This girl is half his age"

[Zatanna Zatara] - Tainted Love (Soft Cell)  “Sometimes I feel I've got to / Run away I've got to / Get away/ From the pain you drive into the heart of me / The love we share/ Seems to go nowhere”

[Desmond-Oliver] -I know It's Over  (The Smiths) I know it's over / And it never really began/ But in my heart it was so real

BONUS TRACKS:

[Zatanna/John/Nick Necro]-  Bizarre Love Triangle (New Order) “Why can't we be ourselves like we were yesterday / I'm not sure what this could mean”

[Sara Lance] - She's Lost Control (Joy Division)  “And she gave away the secrets of her past / And said, "I've lost control again"/ And she turned around and took me by the hand/ And said, "I've lost control again [Zari Tarazi]- Lips Like Sugar (Echo & The Bunnymen) “Just when you think she's yours/ She's flown to other shores/ To laugh at how you break/ And melt into this lake/  She'll be my mirror/ Reflect what I am” [LISTEN ON SPOTIFY]

[valduggerystuff]

The Babysitter -- A Skulduggery Pleasant Fan Fic

“Thank you so much for babysitting, Gordon!” Melissa said with a big smile on her face as she handed Stephanie over to her brother-in-law.

“She is a good kid, really adorable. Except that she drives us crazy. But that is what kids do, don’t they? I tried to reason with her, explaining that we need our sleep and all, but she doesn’t seem to understand”, Desmond explained further.

“She is fifteen months old, Des. Fifteen-month-old babies don’t tend to reason with you”

“But she is our daughter after all! She is special! Look at her eyes, I assure you, she understands everything we say. Isn’t that so, Steph?”

The baby girl in Gordon arms giggled and he couldn’t help but smile. God, she was too cute to be true! It was moments like these when his heart broke over the thought that this may have been his daughter if things had worked out with Melissa.

“Gordon, she should be sleeping most of the time, except for when she’s hungry. I know she looks small, but don’t underestimate how much this little one can eat. There are fresh diapers in the bag and if anything goes wrong, just call us and we’ll be here as soon as we can!”

“I got it, Melissa. Really. Look at her, she is such an angel! I’m sure we will get along just fine”, Gordon assured her calmly.

“Okay, okay. Good. Thank you. Oh, and Gordon - no stories about monsters. I don’t want her to get nightmares!”

The author frowned. “Didn’t you just say she is too young to understand?”

“Yes, but… you never know, right?”

“I have everything under control. You two go enjoy yourself”

He kissed her gently on the cheek and shook his brother’s hand before closing the door in front of them. Then he grinned down to the baby in his arms. Her still quite short hair was already deep black, and her dark brown eyes reminded him of a puppy. He loved dogs.

“You and I are going to have a lot of fun!”

She giggled adorably and Gordon felt his heart melt. He carried her to his study and showed her all the books he had collected.

“This, my dear, is my private collection. Everything in here is worth a good fortune, yet nothing is as precious as you are”

He let her down gently and Stephanie started to run around through the room, touching the books and marvelling at the height of the shelf. She ran and occasionally pulled a book at, frantically flipped pages, frowned when she noticed that there were no pictures in them, and then ran to the next one, creating a minor mess.

“Alright, maybe you’re a bit too young for books…”, Gordon said decidedly to himself and went to find something else she could play with. She ran after him excitedly, and as he noticed that he didn’t exactly have a lot of kid friendly things around, she was not behind him anymore.

“Um, Stephanie? Steph?” He didn’t exactly expect an answer, yet heard giggling from the bathroom and found the toddler in his laundry basket.

“What are you doing, hm? Making the laundry?” She didn’t react, instead pulled out a pair of worn socks and spun them around in the air. It didn’t take too long until she smelled them though, screwed up her nose and said “Yuck”, before throwing them out into the bathtub. Gordon laughed and went to pick them up.

“You don’t really like my socks, do you?” Stephanie ignored him, instead took one of his t-shirts. Her eyes widened as she saw how big it was compared to herself. Clumsily she got out of the basket, which she turned over in the process, held the shirt behind her and started to swing it around, looking as if she were dancing.

“Oh, so you like dancing, huh? Follow along, Stephanie!” He went to turn the stereo on, having her run behind him, the shirt flying behind her like a cape. As soon as the music played, her face lightened up and she moved awkwardly to the beat of the music, wrapping the shirt around herself, causing her uncle to laugh out loud. He got down to his knees and took her little hands into his, then made different movements with his arms, gently pulling her around and spinning her. She laughed delightful. A few songs in, the doorbell rang.

“Who may that be?” he asked Stephanie, picked her up and went to open the door. Skulduggery Pleasant stood there in an exquisite three-piece suit and hat, with the scarf he used as disguise casually hanging down at his skull, looking at him at first, then noticing the baby in his arms.

“Please tell me you didn’t kidnap her”, the velvet voice said jokingly.

“No, but I may just keep her. Skulduggery, this is my niece, Stephanie”

“Stephanie, what an honour to meet you”

The skeleton extended his gloved hand towards her and she giggled when she laid her tiny hand into his.

“My name is Skulduggery. Can you say it? It’s a big word”

“Skaldugery!” she exclaimed exited, causing him to tilt his head smilingly and chuckle “Fair enough”

“Why don’t you come in?”, Gordon asked, politely opening the door to let his friend enter.

“Thanks. I was around and thought I may just give you some inspiration for a book of yours.”

“Is that so?”

“I just talked to a friend of mine, Saracen Rue, I am sure you heard of him”

“I heard about every Dead Men story there is”

“Perfect. Anyway, he told me about an epic battle with a certain Tanith Low and some other things she did that I thought may just be quite interesting for you to hear”

“Brilliant! Just brilliant! Except that…” he looked at Stephanie in his arms, “I may have promised her parents to not tell her any monster stories”

“She is looking at a living skeleton as we speak”

“Ah, but you’re not a monster. Monsters look way scarier than you do.”

“Thanks?” “Well, maybe we can keep her distracted for long enough so she won’t hear all the bloody details… Stephanie, do you like drawing?”

The little girl clapped her hands: “Yes!”

“Very well then… Mind holding her for just a bit?” Before Skulduggery could answer, Gordon already placed Stephanie into his arms and disappeared into his study.

“Well, hello there”, Skulduggery said softly.

“Hello”, she answered, grinningly.

“You are not afraid of me, are you?” She laughed and shook her head no, then grabbed the side of his hat and pulled on it.

“You like my head, don’t you? Well, I’m afraid it may just be a tad too big for you, don’t you say?” He gently placed it onto her head, covering almost all her face, before lifting it up and adjusting it again on his own head. She looked a bit confused at first, before laughing again right into his face. If he had a face, he would smile back, but she didn’t seem to mind that he couldn’t. Instead, she touched his cheek bone with her hand, examined how it felt compared to her own skin. Her face showed pure fascination.

“I see you two get along just fine” Gordon said once he re-entered the room.

“You have an adorable niece indeed. She has smart eyes too.”

“She surely is something special. She is an Edgley after all.”

“Stephanie, do you want to see something amazing?”

She nodded her head a few times, her face shining. Skulduggery used is free hand and snapped to summon a flame, then let it dance around his hands. The toddler’s mouth was wide open as she said “Wooooow”. Once the flame was gone, she demanded to see it again, and again, and again, in never ending astonishment.

“Okay, enough of that” Gordon said and Skulduggery was sure he detected a hint of jealousy in his voice as he took his niece back and placed her on the ground, equipped with some crayons and some paper. “Why don’t you draw something nice?”

She looked a bit disappointed at Skulduggery, but just a moment later started to draw on the paper while the two men sat down close enough to be watching her, yet far away enough to be out of her hearing range, and Skulduggery told him all about the mysterious Tanith Low and the wonders she committed. Gordon was more than just impressed, already forming ideas and formulation in his mind how to include all of this is his next book. They talked for quite some time, before Stephanie walked up to them with a finished masterpiece in her hand. She handed it Skulduggery full of excitement who felt a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest develop as he saw that she drew something that without a doubt resembled a skeleton in a suit, his hand on fire. Next to it, there was a man, most likely Gordon, and in the middle, there was a little person with black hair and a hat who covered half of it. He showed it to his friend, whose eye began to sparkle and water up a bit.

“This is very beautiful, Stephanie. Thank you”, Skulduggery said and picked her up a she reached with his arms towards him.

“I think you made yourself a new friend right there”, Gordon mumbled.

“Quite so. Well, why don’t you go take some notes for your book while I take care of her?”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Look at her, she is adorable”

“Well, if you do want to make yourself useful, why don’t you feed her?”

“What do I know about food?”

“Just make sure she doesn’t choke on it”

“Well, that sounds easy enough. Are you hungry, little one?”

“Yes yes yes!” she proclaimed. He lifted Stephanie into his arms, carried her to the kitchen and looked around at what to prepare for her.

“So, uh, what do you like?”

“Spaghetti!”

“Really?”

“Pweeaassseee” she looked at her with her big, dark eyes and the next thing he knew is how he cooked whole package of spaghetti for her. Once done, he took the greatest care to cut them in tiny piece to make absolutely sure she would choke on them, then laid a kitchen cloth carefully over his suit to make sure she wouldn’t spill on it - it was an exquisite Ghastly Bespoke after all - then placed her into lap and fed her gently, until she yawned and leaned against his chest, her arms hugging his tie.

“Tired, aren’t you?” Weak nodding.

“Do you want me to sing you to sleep?” Nodding again, and so he gently began humming Mrs Jones while wrecking her back and forth in his arms. He stayed for two more hours, never letting her out of his arms. He forgot what is was like to have a baby, but being here now, with her, everything seemed to make sense again. Only when the sanctuary called him and demanded his immediate present, he reluctantly left her with Gordon again before whispering “We will see each other again, Stephanie”. Of course she didn’t hear him in her sleep, but for the rest of the night, the fuzzy feeling stayed. Before he left the mansion, Gordon handed him the picture she drew.

“Take it. Her parents would just question why, oh why she would draw a skeleton with a fire hand.”

“Thank you, Gordon. I’ll see you soon” With that, he wrapped his scarf around his head and walked back to his black Bentley.

 ** 23 years later **

 Valkyrie and Skulduggery sat on the Sofa at Skulduggery’s house, she was gently leaning on him, her hand on his chest, her head resting at the space where his neck would be if he had skin. She was glad to have her friend back, glad that he didn’t want to kill her anymore.

“Is it true what you said?”, she asked after a while, stopping the silence.

“I say a lot of wonderful things, Valkyrie”

“Did you really meet me when I was a baby?”

He laughed amused. “Oh, yes. You used to be so precious”

“I still am precious!”

“In a different way, yes”

“So you’ve basically known me all my life…”

“And you have adored me all your life”

“Of course you would say that”

“I can prove it too”

Skulduggery gently pushed her from him and got up, disappearing in upstairs. Valkyrie frowned. What kind of proof was he talking about?

He came back mere minutes later, holding a piece of paper in his hands and showed it to her.

“You drew this for me that night you were at Gordon’s”

“I did?” She gently took it, looked at the badly drawn skeleton with the fire hand, and a man that very well could have been Gordon. And then there was a mini version of her, wearing a hat that reminded her too much of a certain one she knew.

“Looks like I adored your hat more”

“You did like it a lot”

“And you kept this? It was ages ago, why would you do that?”

“Naturally I did, this may have been the cutest thing you ever done”

She smiled, tears filling her eyes.

“That means a lot, Skulduggery. It really does”

“I always knew you were special and that we would meet again. Little did I know that it took eleven years for that or what else would happen, but here we are.”

“And I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.” Skulduggery tilted his head and she knew he was smiling.

“I’m glad you say that. So, you’re with me again? Until the end?”

“Until the end.”

[reddeaddamnation]

Imagine going with them to the zoo

> Altair would pretend to be bored, but would practically jump with happiness and astonishment when he sees an eagle flying. He would say that he will join you all in a bit, but three hours later, you will find him where you left him and that’s exactly by the eagle’s section.

> Ezio would have a deep connection with the black panthers and he stays there for awhile, just staring down one of them. You can almost say that they are hypnotizing each other, by the way they are staring at each other without moving. Moving on to the monkey section, he and Jacob would laugh at the big nosed monkeys (ya know?) and constantly say “Look, he looks like you.”

> Connor ignores the sign “Do not feed the animals” and throws chicken wings in the wolves’ cage and manages to make a bond with them. You almost have a heart attack when you saw him jump over the fence and with a pack of wolves around him and the sweet boy petting and playing with them.

> Edward staring at the giraffes with astonishment and wondering what it would be like to ride one of them. “EDWARD NO!” “Okay I was just wondering, jeez.”. Gives sunflower seeds to the parrots and even manages to somewhat teach one of them to say his name.

> Haytham walks around normally, looking at the animals and pretending he isn’t part of the group. He leaned over the fence of the swan lake and one of them suddenly tugged at his sleeve and made him fall in the water. Edward cracked up laughing, while Shay was turning red, trying not to laugh, as he helped him out.

> Shay liking the moose and tries to touch one of them over the fence. Ends up falling in the enclosure and gets chased away by an angry male moose. Concludes that the llamas are safer and makes friends with one, even giving it some corn on a cob. 

> Arno constantly shouting “LOOK AT IT, Y/N!!” at whatever he sees. “DO YOU THINK IT WILL LET ME TOUCH IT?!” “I-I don’t think that’s allowed-” “DO YOU?!” Almost gets bit by an angry raccoon and proceeds to feed a goat with hay at the petting zoo because he realizes its safer. His heart melts every time a little one bleats.

> Jacob staring down the lions “I’m not scared of you!” he shouted at it “You aren’t that scary, now aren’t you.” The lion eventually had enough of his shit and laid down with his back on Jacob and the genius decided it’s a good idea to continuously touch and poke him. “Hey, Y/N do you think I can take him in a wrestling-” then he hears the lion growl and quickly backs his hand away with a frightened squeak. 

> Every time a hawk or eagle screech, Ezio and Jacob do the same, scaring away a lot of the visitors. Eagle: *screeches* Ezio: BAWWWK Jacob: BAWWWWWWK

> Shaun tags along with Desmond and Clay and starts sharing random facts about the animals, which nobody cares about. Desmond and Clay get annoyed with him and eventually leave him at the lemur exhibit. 

> Cesare and Ezio bickering and fighting just over the crocodile enclosure until they trip over and fall in the swamp. Cesare: NOW LOOk WHAT YOU Did YOU- Did you hear that? Crocodile: -breathes- Ezio and Cesare: -glance at each other before making a run for it- Ezio: You distract it while I get away! Cesare: NO YOU DO IT! Ezio: You won’t be a loss for the world! Cesare: You won’t be either!

> Elise falling in love with the deer and the way they skip around. She also stares in awe every time the peacock unfurls his tail.

> Desmond and Clay chilling with the bears and talk about random stuff. They don’t notice the animal moving behind them and suddenly roaring, to which they almost piss themselves.

> Malik actually bringing along a book “Animals A-Z”. Opens it and reads stuff in front of every cage about every animal and constantly mumbling stuff like “Hmmm...” “Aaah...” “Fascinating...” “Oooh...” “How intriguing.” How he even carried the enormous book will forever stay a mystery. “Malik, it’s just a dung beetle.” ”BUT YOU DIDN”T KNOW IT CAN DO-”

> Pierre talks to the little animals and you almost choked on your milkshake when you saw him talking gibberish in a baby-voice to the prairie dogs. 

> Evie and Malik discussing facts about the different animals. Shaun tries to join in but they send him off because every time the three of them discuss something it always ends up in a heated fight on three fronts. 

> Rebecca watching the swans do their mating dance. Jacob constantly nudges her suggestively. Ezio constantly nudges Evie as well until the girls are done with all their shit and almost throw them in the lake where they can make their own mating dance between themselves.

> Desmond watches the rams just...ram each other and every time they hit each other he exclaims with a “OOOH!” 

> Elise hugs all the bunnies in the petting zoo. And the baby goats, lambs and anything that comes near her. 

> Hope gets offended every time someone says a fact about a snake wrong. “Their dangerous bite, my ass! SPITTING COBRAS SPIT POISON! IT’S IN THEIR GODDAMN NAME YOU IMBECILE!” Liam has to hold her back from pouncing on whoever had the audacity to get their facts wrong.

> Jacob wants to pose for a picture with a python, but jumps every time it moves on him. Daniel gets angry and takes the snake from him, showing everyone how it’s done and getting the perfect most badass pic with a snake anyone has ever seen.

[mortalheroseries]

Surprise kiss on the cheek to the ROs??

Alexander: He’s so stunned he doesn’t even believe it really happened; he thinks he hallucinated it. You might have to kiss him a few more times before it finally clicks. After it does he’ll be following you around the rest of the day, though he’ll try to pretend like it’s a total coincidence that he’s always in the same room as you and staring at you with a needy expression. “You…What!? No, I just…really needed this uh, mortal thing…yes, this…Mickey Mouse wrist watch is very important for my training! I’ll have you know…s-stop laughing!”

Aquila: She’s so flustered that she just stumbles over her words for a few moments. If you give her enough time she’ll kiss your cheek back, but she’ll probably go in for it too quickly and kind of ends up ramming her head against your cheek. She apologizes a million times and gently presses three fingers to her lips before pressing them softly against your cheek. It’s the best she can do with how nervous she is. “I’m sorry! Oh, is your face okay!? Um, here. I hope this helps.”

Kazu: Oh? Oh? Oh? He gets the look of a cat chasing a mouse as he presses a kiss to your left cheek first and then your right cheek. And then he repeats the action again. And again. And again. Kazu isn’t going to stop kissing your cheeks until your both laying in a pile of cuddles and kisses and laughter. “I didn’t know that I could freely kiss you now in our relationship! You should have told me!”

Taylor: They clap their hands over their face and stare at you wide eyed. They hesitantly lean up and kiss your cheek, smiling so brightly that you’d think you just gave them the best present of their life. Tilting their head down they stare at you from below their eyelashes and glasses. Quick, kiss them on the lips before they run off! “I, uh, I hope that was okay!”

Hui Yin: She practically purrs when you kiss her cheek, stretching across your lap and pointing at her other cheek. If you lean down far enough though, she’ll grab your collar and pull you into a deep kiss. She’s in such a great mood for the rest of the day. “Heeey babe, you’re so good to me. Gimme another kiss right here.”

Rania: Her eyebrows shoot up and there’s a look of astonishment on her face as she turns to you. She’s really not used to such innocent shows of affection…but she finds that she really likes it. Rania will lean toward you, cupping your face with one hand, before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Gameel, you’re the sweetest thing…”

Desmond: Stares at you for so long you think you’ve upset him before swooping over and smooching you right on the lips. If you try to pull away he grips your upper arms and tugs you into him; he nudges you against a wall and begins nibbling your neck. “Don’t…don’t make me stop. Not yet.”

Raphael: He’s so happy he wraps his wings around himself to hide his flushed cheeks. It takes a solid two minutes to coax him out and even when you do he only comes out to grab you and tug you into his arms before wrapping his wings back around the two of you. You notice the tears in his eyes when he looks down at you. “I…swore that I would let you go, but you refuse to make it easy for me…my lux.”

Amaterasu: She goes full blown firetruck red because by the light are you a forward mortal. She’s so anxious around you after the kiss that she has a hard time looking at you; the best cure for this is to simply let her work out her feelings because once she does she comes back to find you on her own. “I, you, ahem. You should warn me before doing something like that!”

Mercury: He grins, puts a hand on the back of your neck before you can pull away, and pulls you in for a sultry kiss. It’s safe to say that if you don’t put your foot down things will take a very heated turn and you’ll be getting a lot more than a kiss in return. “My hero is so bold! Oh dear, why don’t you put your hand right here on my thigh while I give you something better to look at besides just my Godly robes.”

Hemera: She’s ten different shades of pink before she cups a hand over her mouth. There’s tears in her eyes but she’s clearly laughing. Keep kissing away her tears and she’ll melt in your arms, wrapping you with her Godly Aura and laying flat across your chest. She’ll kiss your cheeks from then on out when she sees you upset. “Oh…my hero, my sunrise…I love you.”

Guanyin: You only catch sight of a soft smile before you’re being enclosed in the scent of saltwater and water lilies. Your face is peppered with kisses and you’re held against Guanyin’s chest as they kiss every inch of exposed skin on your face that they can find. “You’re my precious little hero! I love you with my whole heart and I love your precious kisses!”

Horus: He catches your collar before you can pull back, staring at you with such a burning intensity you begin to squirm. Finally, and with deliberate slowness, he leans forward and touches his forehead to yours before softly touching your nose with his. “Is this…sufficient affection in exchange for a kiss? I’m not sure how mortal love works…”

[thetragictoy]

Opnemer and the Recorder of Memories

Okay, so I’ve got this beautiful idea for a book that I’ve been working on for over two years now and I just wrote out character descriptions for all of my lovely characters! If anyone can help find some inspo or would like to sketch up, collage—whatever you’d like to contribute to my babies would be incredibly helpful! I already have the first chapter pretty solidified, but it’s subject to change (if anyone would like to read it and I see enough interest, I’ll gladly post chapter one!). But, without further adieu, here are (most of) my main babies!

Opnemer- Adorable little fairy of a girl, Op is full of optimism and love. Medium length brown hair, big brown eyes, tanned skin, a relatively straight nose (not big but also not sloped, just kinda straight), and rather average in stature—about 5’6”. When she’s having a heated conversation with Desmond or simply interested, her ideal hairstyle is the quick and messy bun (to keep hair out of her face). When she’s in Desmond’s dreams, she loves wearing white and she loves retro dresses that are simple in style, but fun to twirl in. She also loves wearing and seeing bright colors in the dreamscape.

Sonata- A very sweet and gentle spirit, Nata has a strong urge to protect those that he loves. Light brown hair, hazel green eyes, wears glasses (rectangular frames?), lightly tanned skin—lighter than Op, around 6’2”. If Nata didn’t have to wear the same deep eggplant purple everyday, he’d be an absolute t-shirt and jeans kinda guy with fun looking Chuck Taylors. He’s the funny—sometimes awkward—guy who cares immensely about Op. Just imagine he’s the guy nervous laughing as he scratches the back of his head 😂

Desmond- A growing teenage boy with a ton of personality, Des is wise and humble. Dark, curly brown hair, brown eyes, (he’s my lil Mexican boy), very insanely tan (he likes being outside), and currently I see him about 16 at 6’0”. He’s super casual in what he wears, but likes his little touch of style in each outfit. (He likes to look like he’s not trying while actually trying most of the time 😂) His classic look is a printed short sleeve button downs, jeans, and some sweet lace up leather boots. He usually wears his lapis lazuli that his mother gave him until he and Op exchanged necklaces (but they wear them as bracelets) and he never takes hers off (I’ve written this particular scene into existence already, so it’s canon!).

Ruby- A wonderfully artsy gal, Ruby challenges herself almost constantly. Long brown hair, green green eyes, darker skin tone (something close to Des), and about 5’2”. She loves painting, sketching, writing poetry, and doing ceramics. She loves getting into the action and could care less if her hands get dirty. She has quite the retro bohemian style and loves loose, airy organic clothing that doesn’t weigh her down. She loves to layer pieces to make her look like a low key bohemian princess. She loves colors, but typically wears more muted or neutral tones to keep from clashing with the loud colors of her art. She’s a very simple girl who’s headstrong and wildly independent. She’s usually the girl telling her friends exactly what they need to hear to help them achieve what it is that they want.

Sahwira- Incredibly intelligent and doesn’t often say much. Gold-blonde hair, piercing blue-grey eyes, ridiculously sharp jawline & cheekbones, around 6’0”. He’s a pale boy who would avoid being outdoors if the Recorders had an outdoors. He comes off as intimidating because he’s taller than Op, especially when he’s close to her. He’s almost always caught scowling and doesn’t smile often (if ever really). He’s a no nonsense man and is one of the oldest Recorders that’s lived (but because they don’t age, he’d really be quite attractive if he smiled). He secretly cares about Op and when she talks to him for the first time, it’s like all the hardness of his features melts away and she just sees a softness in him that she didn’t think could exist (because when he’s not scowling, he has some rather sad but sweet eyes). Sahwira really quite likes the dark colors they wear, but he would definitely be the office type who wears slacks, button down shirts, dress shoes, and a ridiculously expensive watch. If he didn’t care what people thought of him, he would 100% wear dad hats, jeans, t-shirts, and Vans.

Edeko- Sophisticated and sweet, Eddy is a whirlwind of quiet energy and support. Curly curly brown hair, amber brown eyes, mulatto skin, a splash of freckles on her face, around 5’8”. While she’s incredibly sassy when she’s with Sahwira (whom she has nicknamed Wira), she’s got a whole stock of wisdom for younger Recorders. She’s helped Nau emotionally through some of the hard times, but she also knows how to be straight with someone when they need to hear the truth. If she didn’t have to wear deep eggplant all the time, she’d easily be a girl who loves high waisted jeans, crop tops, and high tops. To get cozy, you’d 100% find her in a huge oversized sweater that’s off one shoulder, some flannel pj shorts and fuzzy slippers.

Nauhuri- Bubbly and fully of life, Nau is an absolute sweetheart who has a rather tragic past. Platinum blonde hair in a pixie cut, brilliant electric blue eyes, a sea of studs on her left ear and a cuff and chain on her right, full lips, adorable button nose, and milky skin. She’s had it rough but she knows just how to keep on trekking. Without the set eggplant purple clothes Nau would have an adorable sense of style. Crop tops, pleated skirts, chokers, and Doc Martins would be her go to. She would also easily be spotted in a t-shirt, leggings, and tennis shoes on a comfy day.

Musajjil- A seriously chill dude with a heart of gold. Dark black hair that is likely to be pulled back into the messy man bun, dark brown eyes, a pretty big schnoz, caramel skin, about 5’8”. Musajjil adores Nau and always has her back. He loves her fighting spirit and her ability to stay positive while also adapting to her situation. Musa sounds like a total surfer dude and is extremely go with the flow. He’s easily approachable and loves conversation. If he wasn’t stuck in eggplant purple, you better believe he’d be in cargo shorts, t-shirts or muscle tanks, flip-flops, and wearing a necklace made of sea glass and pukka shells.

Taifeadta- A hopeless romantic who tries to be a ladies man, but inevitably fails. Short but stylish dirty blonde hair, deep green eyes, some scruff on his face, around 5’10”. I like to imagine him with glasses, but I guess he could go with or without. Tai is my sweet sweet boy who has tons of personality and loves flirting (or trying to anyways). He’s incredibly attracted to Eddy—mostly because she’s so sophisticated and well versed with everything in their world. He does eventually fall for another Recorder (Kina) and she makes him nervous and it’s adorable because there’s lots of blushing and speechlessness (and Tai is never speechless). His ideal outfits would be some nice jeans, t-shirts and hoodies, and skate highs.

Kinasa- Shy and gentle, she’s a calming presence to anyone in the room. Long black hair, almond shaped eyes blacker than night, flat(ish) but adorable nose, porcelain skin, around 5’2”. Kina always carries a calming aura and is rather shy compared to the other Recorders. She’s intrigued by Tai and loves how his calm and cool nature gets tripped up by her presence and knows that Tai is really very sweet behind his “ladies man” facade. She’d love to wear long simple A-line dresses, corduroy overalls, pastel colors mixed with deep rich tones, and shoes ranging from tennis shoes to creepers.

Gravadora- Cunning and mischievous, she makes up one half of the twins. Long airy black hair, bright green eyes, a dash of freckles, small but cute nose, pale olive skin, around 5’9”. Rava is full of energy so if someone sets her off, she’s quick to her temper. She loves fiercely and she doesn’t know how she’d do this job without her brother Graves. She’d ideally wear something laid back like bootcut jeans, long sleeve shirts and hoodies, and Converse. She’s a simple gal.

Gravador- Daring and witty, he makes up the second half of the twins. Wavy black hair (kinda shaggy), bright green eyes with the longest eyelashes ever (only noticeable when you’re close enough to really look at him), a dash of freckles, small but cute nose, pale olive skin, around 5’9”. While the twins are nearly the spitting image of each other, Graves is a bit softer than his sister. He’s a bit more emotional, but he keeps that to himself although she already knows something’s wrong just by the way he breathes. Graves would love wearing natural or muted tones. He’s a sucker for flannels, jeans, and leather boots.

Death- Snarky and sarcastic, Death loves to pick a fight. Tall and brooding with choppy black hair, amber brown eyes, rather pointed nose and gaunt cheeks, pale skin, well built, around 6’5”. Death can regularly be found in black jeans, black t-shirts, black leather jackets, and black leather boots. He’s sassy and completely uncouth, but that’s how he’d like to portray himself to people. He’s been blamed for everything he’s never done over his lifetime so while he does in fact have a soft side that longs to be understood, he decides to mask that part of him with an air of sarcastic wit.

Fate- Beloved by some, slandered by many, Fate is a war horse. Long strawberry blonde hair that cascades down in loose curls, hazel green eyes that seem to hold the rainbow, adorable pixie nose, lightly tanned skin, around 5’9”. Fate is bitterly misunderstood most of the time. She’s incredibly regal in her wardrobe (much like Time and very much unlike Death) and is always wearing a golden laurel and ivory robes embroidered with golden threads and embellished with pastel shades of pink, green, and lavender. If she ever has time to herself to dress more casually, she’d be in thermal long sleeves and pea coats, nice jeans, and some comfortable booties with at least a 3” heel.

Time- Stern and focused, Time is on a schedule down to the second, so you best not be late. Long white hair and beard (that was once a golden blonde), green eyes and thin rectangular spectacles, a rather bulbous nose, papery white skin, around 6’1”. Time is ridiculously punctual and hates when others miss appointments. While he likes to come off as the cheery old man, he isn’t a force to be reckoned with. He always wears beautiful royal blue robes that sweep the floor. If he ever had a sense of casual wear, it would probably be flannel pj pants, a matching button down, and a night robe and matching night cap.

Claudia- Strong and supportive, she’s a force of nature that knows her boys rely on her. Dark curly brown hair, dark brown eyes, slight crows feet (from all the laughter and joy her boys bring her), full lips, round nose, tanned skin, around 5’3”. After losing her husband, Claudia took it upon herself to raise her three boys. She loves practical clothing that’s simple and comfortable such as jeans, t-shirts, and tennis shoes. She loves a good necklace or two and bracelets like bangles that jingle. She loves prints and every once in a while she’ll throw on a nice bohemian styled shirt with bell sleeves just to watch the movement of the fabric. Claudia’s about 50 at this point in time.

Ellis- Resilient and sure, Desmond’s oldest brother—and sometimes the most bull headed—Ellis is relatively level headed, but he’s also a teenager in adolescence. Wavy light brown hair, hazel green eyes, strong jawline, rather pointed nose, fairer than his mother and other two brothers—he heavily resembles his father, around 6’0”. He’s about 18 at this point in time and believes that he’s in love with a girl he’s only been going out with for a month. He won’t listen to Desmond’s words simply because he’s younger and “doesn’t understand”. He does love his mother and brothers with his whole being, he’s just stubborn at this age. Ellis is big on playing sports but also loves music and playing the ukulele. Loves being comfortable (like his mother) and prefers jeans, simple t-shirts, and Converse.

Finnegan- Incredibly loyal and understanding, Desmond’s younger brother Finny is the quiet pillar of strength that keeps everyone in the house together. Rusty brown hair that’s nearly untamable (always looks like styled bedhead but is actually just real bedhead), light brown eyes, round nose, round pink cheeks, the lucky kid with freckles, around 5’5”. He’s around 12 at this point in time and is already a freshman in high school as he is very diligent with his studies and skipped a grade in elementary. He tutors others in his classes and many of his peers and even upper class men adore him. He’s easy to talk to, highly intelligent and incredibly oblivious to girls and their intentions. He’s practical and calculated but still incredibly sweet. He tries to offer advice, but is sometimes more forward than most others are used to. He loves a good pair of khakis or a nice pressed pair of jeans and loves a good printed shortsleeved button down and loves his Converse. Finny isn’t afraid of hand-me-downs from his brothers, he just likes keeping his crisp and clean style if he has the choice.

[neotericbitch]

armour off

it’s not supposed to be, like, a twist or anything, more like a “well yeah obviously”.

She keeps looking into all the mirrors, making sure no one is following. She’s speeding, but it’s not the cops she’s worried about. Xena isn’t worried at all, she’s having a great time sticking her head out the window. Such a gorgeous dog, with such a beautiful nature. She’s lucky to have had a companion like her. Undeserving, too.

The drive has always felt long, but today it’s the longest it’s ever been. Oddly enough, she’s breathing fine. Her head is clear. Her blood isn’t pumping too hard, her heart isn’t beating too fast. To remain calm is ideal, but she thinks that maybe this is too calm. She thinks that maybe she’d secretly been desperate for something like this to happen. Well - not exactly like this. But something similar enough that would need for her to make a quick and efficient escape.

Her father answers the door, and his eyes light up immediately - but before he can cry out in greeting, Alice, standing at the end of the front hall, beats him to it.

“My warrior princess!”

Valkyrie hears the patter of her sister’s footfalls and for a moment, just for a moment, her composure threatens to break. Alice buries her face right into Xena’s fur, and likewise the dog is wildly excited to see her little friend. Desmond takes the opportunity to pull Valkyrie into a one-armed hug. Outwardly, it’s a casual welcome, but Valkyrie can feel it. Her dad doesn’t want to let go.

She hugs him back, and doesn’t want to let go either. But time is of the essence.

Alice has seen her now, and she shyly bats her eyes at Valkyrie. She knows her sister, but all the same there’s times where visits are few and far between, and the girl ducks her chin and steps behind her father’s legs.

“Alice,” says Desmond. “Look who it is!”

“Good morning, Stephanie,” mumbles Alice. “How are you.”

“Dad,” Valkyrie says, keeping her voice as steady as she can. “I’m sorry, I hate to do this - I’m not here to visit. Something came up really suddenly, I have to - I’m leaving the country. It’s okay - don’t worry, it’s for a job - everything’s fine, I’ll be safe…”

“You need somewhere for Xena to stay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m--”

“Steph,” says Desmond, and hugs her again. “Don’t be sorry. Anything you need. We’ll look after her.” He withdraws and looks down at his youngest, who is back to being licked head to toe by the dog. “We’ll look after Xena, won’t we, Alice? We’ll do some puppysitting? You, me and mum?”

“I can puppysit,” chirps Alice.

“I wish I could…” Valkyrie starts again. “Where is mum?”

“Out. She’ll be so upset she missed you, but...she’ll understand. You’re our busy girl out saving the world. I’ll send your love.”

“Thank you.” She hesitates, and hugs him a third time, and this is the one that makes her eyes water.

“Have fun with your...stuff.” Desmond waggles his fingers. “Magic business. Best of luck. Bring back souvenirs. How’s Skulduggery?”

“Good. Grand. I’m sorry. I have to go. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

Desmond tries to get Alice to say a proper goodbye to Valkyrie, but she’s much too interested in Xena. Xena, meanwhile, whimpers and wags her tail in farewell to her mistress. When Valkyrie turns around, she doesn’t let herself look back.

Valkyrie heard cheers and screams, but nothing else. She knew, though, that it didn’t mean anything good. If the anti-Sanctuary troops out there made any noise at all, it never meant anything of the sort.

She’d managed to rest her eyes somewhat, but a throbbing headache prevented her from sleeping. The aches had fully settled in after a half hour of lying down, the kind that made her limbs occasionally convulse. She had to keep her legs straight, but that was tough when they couldn’t fit on the bed from her calves down. She felt heavy and grimy - though the shirt was still good.

The last light of the day has drained out of the room when Valkyrie gets up. There’s a wall-mounted lantern with a tiny flickering flame, one she doubts is going to go out anytime soon, and it’s just enough for her to see, but the shadows draw long lines across the floor in a way that unsettles her. She misses being an Elemental, being able to light her way with ease. All she can manage now are a few pathetic sparks when she rubs her hands together.

The utensils for cleaning herself had been hidden behind the washing machine. Valkyrie unplugs a hose from the wall for a moment to fill the medium bucket with water, plugs it back in and throws her trousers in the machine. Takes the shirt back off. Rinses her hair, combing her fingers through. Scrubs the soap and sponge over every bloodied part on her body - which is every part.

Valkyrie can’t help but smirk when she throws the dirty water out through the window and hears some anti-Sanctuary nut yelp. She refills the bucket and works on details now. Dirt and blood under her nails, taking off the smaller bandages and dabbing at her wounds.

She would much prefer a long soak in a hot bath, but these aren’t the worst washing conditions she’s had to deal with in the past ten months. Washing herself under that bridge in rural, rural France - that experience holds the title. At least she’s behind a locked door.

A new shadow draws across the floor and over her skin, and back come the goosebumps. From behind her, Skulduggery makes a sound she doesn't think she's ever heard from him before. A weird hitch in breath that doesn't exist.

“Hi,” says Valkyrie without turning around. She deliberately snaps the shoulder strap on her bra as a signal that it's alright to stay, she's as decent as she can get while locked away all fairy tale-like. It doesn't matter what state he sees her in, anyway. He's dead.

“My offer still stands,” says Skulduggery.

“What offer?”

“To run away. Vanish into the night, never to be seen again.”

“I think,” Valkyrie begins, then pauses. She squeezes what's left of the water in her hair back into the bucket, then goes over to the window and throws the water out. Another yelp, but this time she is too busy considering her words to smile. “I think I'm done running.”

“Oh?”

“I think it's only right that we end this once and for all. Only then can I travel in good conscience. I want to see my family again.”

Skulduggery is quiet a moment. He sounds almost disappointed when he turns his helmet to the bottom right corner of the floor and says, “Fair enough.”

The washing machine is finished with her pants, but Valkyrie has barely moved before Skulduggery is over there, getting them out, being a personal blow drier. He throws them at her. Valkyrie senses urgency. She shuffles them on and sits down on the bed with the first aid kit, ready to redress any wounds that need to be covered. Some have become less urgent in these passing hours.

Skulduggery wraps one of her arms while she unwraps a bandaid with her teeth. They quietly work away until all has been taken care of, and then he pushes the shirt upon her. The two of them sit in silence a moment, two incredibly tall people folded uncomfortably over a tiny bed.

“Alright,” says Valkyrie, adjusting herself into a cross-legged position. “Armour off.”

Skulduggery looks away.

“Please, Skulduggery. It's me, for God’s sake.”

“Did I tell you how much I missed you?”

“You may have mentioned it.”

“And did I tell you how much I love you?”

“I try to think of it as a given.”

His chuckle is soft and Valkyrie feels a massive array of things. Safe, oddly enough, is one of them. Skulduggery undoes the clasps on his helmet, very quickly and clinically, and takes it off. He holds the helmet for a second, then it melts into his gauntlets and it's like he never had one at all.

Valkyrie doesn't know what she expected. She doesn't know how he expected her to react. Abyssinia sure did do something. Valkyrie reaches out and touches his cheek, and despite the cold of the armour, he's warm.

“Hm,” she says.

“Hm?” Awaiting approval.

“That's skin, alright.”

Skulduggery bursts out laughing, and at last Valkyrie knows whether he's the type to get teary-eyed from laughing too hard or not. Façades could never cover that ground. She brushes a tear from his eye with her thumb, then withdraws her hand, clasping it in her other.

“So, what - do you eat now?”

He wipes the remainder of the wetness from his eyes and just smiles down at his lap before flickering his gaze up at her. “I do.”

“Oh wow. The great Skulduggery Pleasant now has to piss like the rest of us. This is fantastic news.”

That gets him going again, and it now fully occurs to Valkyrie that, in the time she was gone, the time he spent pretending to be Vile to avoid whatever fate would await otherwise, he probably hasn't laughed at all. He meant it. He had been waiting for her. He had missed her.

“I love you,” says Valkyrie.

He's got those eyes that are really good at blinking at people. She can already see it, blinking slowly and incredulously at someone he thinks is an idiot, the blink that somehow doesn't break the illusion of a long, angry stare. And here and now, an unassuming, innocent kind of blink. She'd be fooled if she didn't know him.

“If you're expecting me to say it back,” says Skulduggery, “you're in for disappointment. I said it there earlier, didn’t you hear? I don't need to say it again. It would be uneven.”

“I love you!” repeats Valkyrie, louder than expected. Her voice and hands are shaky, and she fears for a moment that someone will have heard before recalling that they're far away from prying ears. It could be sweat running down her neck, but it could also be leftover water from her bucket bath. The butterflies in her stomach can't be explained away by any of her wounds, though.

She could give it a go anyway.

“Oh dear,” Skulduggery murmurs. “It seems I no longer have a choice in the matter. Well, I suppose I must respond in kind…”

He trails off and goes quiet, starts working his gauntlets off. Valkyrie doesn't wonder why for long - it's so she doesn't freeze when he puts his hands on her shoulders. They're gloved like normal, but she can see a flash of skin where she would have once seen bone. He looks right into her eyes.

“I love you, too,” says Skulduggery.

Valkyrie starts laughing nervously. She can't help it. Nothing about this is particularly funny at the moment, and she doesn't feel like laughing, but this is not something she has any control over. She reaches up to her left shoulder and takes his hand off, holds it in both her hands in her lap instead. Holding on maybe too tight. He squeezes her hand back.

“When?” Valkyrie asks quietly.

“It took a month to locate the kind of magic she said could match me.”

She doesn't want to know, but the next question is already tumbling out of her mouth, “How many?”

He looks at their hands. “Six.”

Abyssinia needed two and an injury.

“I don’t suppose I need to explain why she did it. For control, you understand. A knife in the ribcage used to be a dismissible, albeit painful, experience. If you were to stab me through the heart now, I would most certainly die.”

“Hey,” mutters Valkyrie, rapping her knuckles against his breastplate, “at least you got this.”

“Yes, well. It may not do me much good if you keep insisting I take it off.”

Her grip had loosened without her being aware of it, but Skulduggery is still determinedly holding her hand. Valkyrie is warm.

“So what now?” she asks. Then, to clarify, “How do we save the world?”

“I think we can spare some time to work on a brilliant plan.”

“The sooner we get things back to normal, the better.”

Skulduggery slowly releases her hand and sets his down on his knee. He looks at her, then to the corner, then the ceiling, then back at her. “I doubt we can restore everything, but yes. You're right.”

Valkyrie bites her lip and isn't sure how to phrase her next question. “I don’t suppose there would be a sure fire way to get you back to...being…”

“Sure,” he says. “Fire.” And he grins at her for a second before dropping it. “That was terrible, I apologise. No. To kill me again would be the last time. This is it now.”

“You're not happy about that.”

“Of course I'm not. I hate it. I'm repulsive. But I've had time to mellow. Ah, you should have seen me in winter. I was…” He flexes both hands, a humourless smile playing on his mouth. “Furious.”

Valkyrie can only imagine. “You're not repulsive.”

Skulduggery smiles rather genuinely at her by way of responding, and she can no longer think of anything to say. So they just sit there in complete silence, gazes drifting away from one another and finding their way back. It's just that - Valkyrie thinks she needs to stare in order to fully get acquainted with the idea. That's perfectly fine, perfectly acceptable. But now that Skulduggery can't hide it anymore, now that she knows he does it, she can't think of an excuse to explain why he just keeps looking back at her.

“Skulduggery…”

“Valkyrie.”

“You sleep now, don’t you?”

“Not very well.”

She feels stupid and childish, but all the same - “Will you stay with me? At least until you need to go?”

He blinks at her. And blinks at her again. “Of course. Of course I will.”

His hair comes back long and his face comes back scruffy. He had gotten that way during his three days at the end of Serpine’s right hand, and for some god awful reason it had apparently been worth saving. The Necromancers let him up after a month of being tied to a slab to get him to walk again. He runs instead. After getting him into some bound chains, they get him shaved and his hair cut. Abyssinia speaks to him, holding his chin in her palm, taking the rare opportunity to be the tall one while he's on his knees. His saliva isn't fully running yet, but he tries to spit anyway. She just laughs.

She keeps him underground for another month before tossing in the armour. She puts it in very plain terms what she can and will do the moment she even thinks he's going to step out of line. If he behaves, she tells him, it can be like the old days, if he wants. He doesn't say a word, not one. Doesn't speak to anyone at all.

Gant waits every day, very eagerly, for news of suicide, and every day he is disappointed when he spots the dark figure roaming the fortress. The figure holds itself in a way that suggests the smallest thing could set it off. Two months and three days into Abyssinia’s occupation, Gant gathers the latest details on the chase. He finds Vile standing in the darkness between the fortress buttresses, silently observing the troops below.

“You must be so out of the loop, skeleton.” For reasons he cannot explain, Gant gets a lot of enjoyment out of referring to him as something he no longer is. He supposes it’s just amusing to remind him of something special he lost. And it’s already time to do it again. “So many things to be filled in on. Did Abyssinia tell you about the little groups she’s got out there in the world, combing through all the rundown hotels and back alleyways?”

Vile is still. He might not even be listening.

“No, I didn’t think she had.”

Gant looks down at the troops. They’re not all Neoterics, but he finds it easier to refer to them as such anyway. Quite a few of them are hundreds of years old, and have been lying in wait for something like this, whether they be affiliated with the anti-Sanctuary, Erskine Ravel’s fanatics, or on their own until now. Gant is glad he’s not one of them, that he gets to be up here with Abyssinia.

“She’s alive.”

This is no longer the “she” being referred to a sentence prior, but that doesn’t need clarification. It’s evident that Vile knows who is being referred to when he closes his hand around Gant’s throat and shoves him violently up against the wall. Gant wheezes and kicks his legs, hands coming up to uselessly bat at Vile’s arm.

“Where,” says Vile.

“I don’t - know,” Gant chokes and coughs. “That’s - what the - trackers - are for.”

“Where.”

Tears spring to his eyes, but he still does his best to stare into that void of a visor. “Last sighting was - gah - New Zealand. Five hours ago.”

Vile releases Gant’s throat and lets him drop, stands there a moment considering what to leave him with, something painful and inconvenient but won’t risk his own position. Abyssinia can handle broken legs easily. With Gant howling in pain, Vile tears up the buttresses, allowing large chunks of wall to fall and endanger the troops below, and then he’s gone.

He’d blacked out when Abyssinia ambushed, in a very literal manner, as she activated his Necromancy and smothered him with it. When he was back in a state where he was aware of what was happening around him, he was a bare skeleton on a slab. There was not one mention of Valkyrie’s name. If he brought her up, and he constantly did, he was ignored.

Now that he knows she’s alive and out there, running and fighting for her life, he very much feels like an unused furnace being lit up again. He hopes they never catch her. He hopes she never has to see him again.

Skulduggery couldn’t sleep before, but now he can - and when he does he dreams of her and calls her name, and always wakes in tears.

[queenlua]

cool stuff i noticed while rereading the script of Inception

I wasn't planning to write this all tonight, but uh, I really love inception y'all.

NOLAN’S WRITERLY FLAWS

Here's a lengthy bit from the original script, which got cut from the movie:

MILES Everybody dreams, Cobb. Architects are supposed to make those dreams real.

COBB That's not what you used to say. You told me that in the real world I'd be building attic conversions and gas stations. You said that if I mastered the dream-share I'd have a whole new way of creating and showing people my creations. You told me it would free me.

Miles looks at Cobb, sad.

MILES And I'm sorry. I was wrong.

COBB No, you weren't. Your vision was a vision of pure creativity. It's where we took it that was wrong.

It's a rare glimpse into a side of Cobb we don't really see in the movie—young, drawn to the idea of pure creation, to all the beautiful high-minded concepts behind this dream-sharing business. You can almost feel Nolan himself, giddy, beneath this—as a creator that's got to be one of the coolest parts of this whole idea of dream-sharing; hell, when I first saw this move in The Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Ten, I went straight home and started writing some fanfiction, not about any of the characters, but about the intensity of feeling behind sharing dreams, what it would mean to create in that way—

—and it was totally right not to stick it in the film, because though Inception is a beautiful film with beautiful ideas, it's a heist movie at heart, and it has to focus on the pragmatic while giving the lofty beauty of it all a sly wink. The "youthful idealist architect Cobb" only comes across in subtext—a slight lightness in his step during his training sessions with Ariadne, maybe a bit when musing over what would draw the intense and beautiful Mal to him.

Here's another bit—from the scene when Cobb is having his final confrontation with Mal, and she's trying to convince him to stay in limbo with her. I italicized / surrounded with asterisks the bit that got cut:

MAL So certain of your world. Of what's real. Do you think he is- (points at Cobb) Or do you think he's as lost as I was?

COBB I know what's real.

***MAL What are the distinguishing characteristics of a dream? Mutable laws of physics? Tell that to the quantum physicists. Reappearance of the dead? What about heaven and hell? Persecution of the dreamer, the creator, the messiah? They crucified Christ, didn't they?***

COBB I know what's real.

MAL No creeping doubts? Not feeling persecuted, Dom? Chased around the globe by anonymous corporations and police forces? The way the projections persecute the dreamer?

Gosh, that line is just... what? We have this super-emotionally-charged moment, the make-it-or-break-it for Cobb to wrest his way from Mal's grasp, and we're throwing in random references to quantum physics and Christiainty??? It made the cutting board, as it should have.

But what I like about these lines is that they show us Nolan's rough edges—and it's Nolan the goddamn nerd, who loved Star Wars as a kid and talked about The Matrix a lot when talking about this movie and, based on his writing style, I honestly suspect is a little bit of a closet anime nerd. This is a guy who's really jazzed about ideas, who veers on the side of babbling too much about a beloved topic, or just reaaaaally wants that physics reference in there because of the cool parallels with the other ideas. I love it.

He also tends to add awkward touches of melodrama when left to his own devices. A line like "I performed [inception] on my wife and reaped the bitter rewards" gets transformed, with Leo's quiet humanity, into "I knew inception was possible because I did it to her first." Which gets a little into "what the actors brought to the movie", which I'll get into later.

I have a pet theory that what draws people to, say, a favorite author, or a favorite filmographer, is a love for both what they do well and their flaws. I was struck by this when reading a review of the Sea of Fertility tetraology, by my favorite author, and found myself basically agreeing with the review—the only difference was, the shit that drove the reviewer crazy were the things that gripped me in weird ways, that I recognized as flawed but still enjoyed warmly. Mishima's writing is melodramatic and Isao comes across as weirdly robotic and his pretenses at intellectualization come across as strained and confused—those were all things that drew me in deeper.

Which is not an argument against editors, and doing the Actual Right Thing; this is stuff that very rightly made the cutting board. But when it's a tough call for what the right way forward is, Nolan goes a little bit dorky, a little bit melodramatic, and those tiny moments are delectable.

MAKING EMOTIONAL SENSE

Something that struck me, when I rewatched Inception this weekend: Cobb's description of inception on Mal doesn't entirely make sense. It's not quite impossible according to the rules of the script, but it intuitively seems like performing inception in limbo is a very different thing than doing it from within a dream. He refers to having built everything in limbo; why would anything in limbo relate to specific parts of one mind? And it seems like it'd be easier to trace the genesis of the idea when you're right there in limbo with them when they do it, I'd think?

The point isn't whether it makes sense or not—I'm sure nerds on the argument could argue either side—but the point is that you don't even question the mechanics of it when it's described, because it made complete emotional sense. All through the movie, we've been getting hints that something terrible happened, some subtle thing Cobb's got stored away—and when we finally see it, with that choice imagery, oh, lifting the little locked-away top in Mal's home and spinning it—makes you say oh, makes you gasp, brings it together.

I went to a talk once by one of the writers of Lost, and he talked about this concept in the context of the episode "The Constant." Basically (as is tragically typical with Lost), a character's gotten his consciousness stuck in some sort of bizarre time loop, he keeps flashing back for longer and longer periods of time, and he's gonna die if he can't cut out this "simultaneously stuck in two time periods" thing. So a physics-y character says that Desmond needs to contact a "constant", something present in both time periods, so he can "stabilize" his mental state, and who does he call but his ex-girlfriend.

Does that make a goddamn lick of sense? No, not really. But the show'd already gotten us incredibly invested in this relationship between Desmond and Penny, they've been hinting for a while that Penny's been desperately looking for Desmond, and Desmond's love for her is really heart-melting, and they're using a science-y word ("a constant! like gravity's a constant, bro!"), and the feeling of something converging is the thing that really carries the moment. Lost pulled this kind of shit a lot, really, and it explains a lot of the divisiveness of the show. Invariably when I talk to people who liked Lost, they're usually watching for character, and freely confess the plot wasn't even trying to make sense after season two but that's so not the point. If you were focusing on the plot, you were doomed to be disappointed.

I want to spend more time thinking about this—how you construct something that makes "emotional sense." Do it wrong and there's just a gaping plot hole or bizarre deus ex machina that's going to irk everyone watching it. And, to be clear, I actually don't think these sorts of scenes work in spite of the vagueness/implausibility, but because of it—the important thing in Cobb's moment of inception is the beautiful resonance of that spinning top, the important thing in that Lost episode is the feeling that somehow, some way, love can be the thing that grounds you and saves you. Maybe that's the answer, really—you have to earn it in some other way. Lost earned it by pouring so much attention into Desmond's backstory, and his love for Penny, and the brief desperate glances we got into her search for him—to the point where we were yearning for a resolution. Inception did it in a more Nolanesque way, with its wonderful, precise control of exactly what is on the screen at all times—leading to a the confluence of motifs coming together all at once. Cobb repeats "an idea is like a virus", we see Mal's house again, we see the top, and the salt-swept shores of Limbo and the pair of them clinging to each other, all coming together at once.

WHAT LEO BROUGHT TO COBB

I get the sense, reading the script, that Cobb was meant to be a more, uh, "edgy"/dark/moody-teenage-protagonist-esque character than he actually became. There's just touches, here and there, in the script. There's a scene where, in the movie, Arthur sympathetically says, "I know how much you want to go home." In the movie, Arthur's posture is closed-off, and he's staring out a window, and says nothing until Arthur talks again. In the script though, Cobb cuts him off with a sharp "No, you don't." Touchy, tetchy.

Or how about this bit:

Cobb GRABS SAITO AND PUTS HIS HEAD TO THE FLOOR, gun pressed into his cheek. Saito looks into Cobb's eyes--sees he will pull the trigger. Saito BLINKS, looks away in shame. When he NOTICES SOMETHING. And starts LAUGHING.

Oh man, Cobb is so tough, making the tough Japanese businessman look away in shame—

—except, in the movie, at this point Cobb's getting totally desperate, and instead of playing it deadly-cool, he's waving a gun and fucking screaming at Saito, "TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW! TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW NOW!", and Saito performs no "look of shame."

The other instances are more slight and tedious to cite, but—there's moments in the script where Cobb was supposed to hold a broody stare, and instead got flustered and cut into the next topic right off, moments when he's giving cocky grins that turn more poker-face-y in the movie.

It gives you an appreciation for really good actor can do, what they're bringing to the movie—the subtle changes of expression, turns of phrase, ways they hold themselves can change so much of the mood and feel of a character. I don't think of Cobb as like, the Greatest Character Ever, but as an anchor for the movie, he's pretty solid and rather unique—not quite cold-and-aloof-tragic-past type, not quite the hard-edged-bristly-loner type—something more mature, more weathered, more adult. He comes across as a touch more cerebral, a touch more intense, and those touches resonate really well with what's a reasonably cerebral and a very intense movie.

EXPOSITION IS HARD

Inception is an exposition-heavy movie.  I remember it all flowing seamlessly when I first watched it, but on re-watches it does feel like a bit much, and sometimes awkward (Arthur explaining the concept of limbo while in a shouting match with Cobb, urgh).

But it's interesting how much more there is that didn't even make it into the movie—tons more slips of awkward exposition that got cut. For instance, in the script verion of Cobb's visit to France, when he's trying to get the professor to get him an architect, there's a whole conversation that lays out the “what happened between Cobb and Mal” alarmingly baladly:

COBB I know. I thought you could talk to Marie about bringing them on vacation. Somewhere I could meet--

MILES Why would she listen to me?

COBB You were married for twenty years.

MILES She blames me as much as you.

COBB Doesn't she understand that my kids need me?

MILES Yes, she does. We all do. Go back and face the music, Dom. Explain what Mal did.

COBB Be realistic, Stephen. They'd never understand− they'd lock me up and throwaway the key. Or worse.

MILES You think what you're doing now is helping your case?

COBB Lawyers don't pay for themselves.

I'm glad that didn't make the movie—we get the sense that something happened, but we don't know Mal did something, and while it's made obvious Cobb can't go back to America due to a crime, he doesn't drop a line like "lock me up and throw away the key" ick, etc.

Perhaps Nolan deliberately wrote in more exposition than necessary, with the idea he could cut it based on what sort of context the actors could imply with their actions? The trickiest thing with writing exposition, I think, is that whole "the writer already knows everything" bit—how do you determine what people need to know, and when, and how, when you've already got the whole picture and the pieces seem so obvious to you? I've received praise on some of my original fantasy writing for executing well on this sort of thing—but (1) I think it's goddamn impossible to do much fantasy/scifi writing at all without gaining chops in this area; it's the central challenge of the genres, and (2) I think it's easier in a prose setting—you can toss in throwaway words and references more easily, adding texture and feel without actually following up on it, whereas a movie is crunched for time and every word/reference/etc usually has to count, materially advancing the plot and the reader's understanding.

[yourethesheriffskid]

Tagged by @exy-king every time you tag me i feel truly remembered and i can’t believe such small stuff makes me cry but i am starved for affection thank you i love you 

Rules: answer all questions, add one question of your own and tag as many people as there are questions. (lol no)

1. coke or pepsi: neither, water all the way

2. disney or dreamworks: either, don’t really care that much

3. coffee or tea: both please and thank you 

4. books or movies: also both ??? am i bad at this i give shitty answers 

5. windows or mac: mate i’ve never even seen a macbook in my life tf is this question 

6. dc or marvel: BOTH PLEASE AND THANK YOU 

7. x-box or playstation: what

8. dragon age or mass effect: what 2.0

9. night owl or early riser: ask my mental illnesses abt my sleep pattern lol 

10. cards or chess: i can’t play chess, so cards it is

11. chocolate or vanilla: BOTH PLEASE AND THANK YOU 

12. vans or converse: what 3.0

13. Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash, or Adaar: the fuck is this what 4.0

14. fluff or angst: oh this is gonna get TMI real quick. i’ve been emotionally vacant for most of my life, and angst is the only thing besides comedy that makes me feel somewhat alive. i read and watch an unhealthy amount of angst to cope. picture Andrew on that roof, i’m him. feeling.

15. beach or forest: beach

16. dogs or cats: CATS

17. clear skies or rain: clear skies and sunshine please 

18. cooking or eating out: cooking 

19. spicy food or mild food: something in the middle, leaning more towards spicy

20. halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas: the Eurovision is the only holiday i celebrate (you think it’s a dumb answer but i am not joking it’s my favourite time of the year)

21. would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: um what the fuck neither AM I NOT SUFFERING ENOUGH

22. if you could have a superpower, what would it be: turning stuff into money ??? i love money (((((((((

23. animation or live action: live action all the way

24. paragon or renegade: what 5.0

25. baths or showers: both, long and hot 

26. team cap or team ironman: IRON MAN ALL THE WAY

27. fantasy or sci-fi: both !

28. do you have three or four favorite quotes, if so what are they: i’ve got a lot

“If you’re going through hell, keep going” - Winston Churchill 

“I don't believe that books, even bad books, corrupt us. Instead I believe books challenge and interrogate, they give us windows into the lives of others, and give us mirrors so that we can better see ourselves. And ultimately, if you have a worldview that can be undone by a novel, let me submit that the problem is not with the novel” - John Green

“Be your own anchor” - this one is from Teen Wolf, and it’s my life motto

“If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” — Desmond Tutu

“I know the world's a broken bone. But melt your headaches, call it home.” — "Nothern Downpour” by Panic! at The Disco

“I think human consciousness is a tragic misstep in evolution. We became too self-aware. Nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself - we are creatures that should not exist by natural law.” - True Detective: Season 1 

29. youtube or netflix: youtube bc i don’t have netflix 

30. harry potter or percy jackson: HARRY POTTER !!! it’s such a big part of my life 

31. when you feel accomplished: never

32. star wars or star trek: STAR WARS you should see my wall it’s covered in SW posters

33. paperback books or hardback books: ebooks haha i hate physical copies of books 

34. to live in a world without literature or without music?: FUCK U 2.0

35. who was the last person to make you laugh? my best friend, she’s a comedy genius 

36. which is better: sour or sweet candy? what the fuck is this question sweet of course 

37. do you believe in aliens? i mean, Harry Styles is walking this earth.....

38. dawn or dusk? indifferent to both, prefer to sleep at that time

39. piercings or tattoos? tattoos 100%

40. OKAY SO I Wanna know: girls? yes. that’s it, that’s the answer. 

41. volcanoes or black holes? black holes are fascinating 

42: Favourite language (either to listen to, or that you can speak): I love English so much it’s the only language i wanna use ever, but mate, French sounds like a wet dream (as much as i fucking hate learning it)

43. (my question): dark lipstick or nude lipstick: i do not have a nude shade in my kit, but i have about twenty dark vampy shades that i love with my whole entire heart

I tag @frankocean as always hit me wit them answers man 

[baddestdad]

dippedindes:

The half hearted grump in his friend only made Desmond laugh before responding to the tease. “Where’s the fun in that?” He snorts and plops back down on the floor, guitar case across his lap. His usual grin melted into one of childish excitement and curiosity as he spots Roberts guitar case.

“This is the most exciting game of you show me yours and I’ll show you mines I’ve ever played.” He all but squeaks as he shifts a few inches closer, patting the floor for his pal to sit on down so they could possibly be nerds together. “Have you named yours?” Des tended to name everything he owned- especially things that stayed with him through the years. Not shocking since this was the same man who couldn’t help but nickname people in the second of meeting them.

“I’m gonna make you starting retouching my walls, then we’ll see how much fun you’re having...” Robert replied, not really meaning it, but also kind of thinking it would be an excuse to see the other more often.

He snickered and Des’ comment.  “Knowing you, Welsh, I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”  Grabbing his case, he settles in the floor close to his friend, but with still enough space to give their cases room.  “I...let Val do it,” he replied, the hint of a smirk tilting his lips up at the memory.  “A word of advice - don’t ever let your kid name anything when she’s obsessed with Citizen Cane...”  And with that, he popped open his case.

“It was a gift from Marilyn and Val...they had it custom made...meet Rosebud.”  it was a nice looking acoustic base done up in a beautiful rosy red finish.  In one low corner was a children’s sticker of a holographic rose - like the kind you’d get out of the vending machine at a grocery store.  Robert loved this guitar for a lot of reasons - but most of all because it symbolized the family he no longer had.

(Desmond trips up and starts shouting in his regular voice from his spot outside his window) "BECAUSE YOU LOVE IT DONT CHANGE THE DAMN SUBJECT RUPERT!"

About fucking time.  Robert chuckled as the other man finally revealed himself, leaning over his balcony to call back, “Are you really gonna keep shouting at me from down there?”

[mattzerella-sticks]

Knowing the Game (a Nate-centric, John/Nate fic post 4x09, 2.1k)

Nate gets an unexpected visitor late at night, when everyone has left. What's he to make of the strange man with the knowing gleam in his eye, who apparently knows more about his father's secrets than even Hank? And what will he do when he starts revealing more than just what his working relationship is? Will he even have the chance to do something?

(Link to ao3)

           Nate scrubs a hand down his face, the computer screen’s glow hurting his eyes from staring at it so long. It’s been a rough couple of days, with him barely leaving before midnight most nights. If it wasn’t investigating his father’s secret dealings keeping him busy, Ava’s break-up frustration was being piled onto him and the rest of the Time Bureau as they pick up the slack left by the Legends. And the Legends’ fugitive status weighed unnecessarily on his back, too.

           Not only were his friends hiding away somewhere in the time stream, being hunted down by the government – again – he couldn’t contact them without Ava finding out. His only contact for now is Zari, encrypting her e-mails so no one could trace them. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry with each message titled ‘Wide Birthing Hips’. Subject heading aside, they keep their conversations to Hank’s work, no matter how much Nate wants to ask for more. To hear their adventures, laugh at what references Ray made that day, and especially know that John his safe.

           His exhaustion wouldn’t be half as bad if his cockney cock-eyed magician could pop up and ease his troubles. They’ve been spending so much time together as of late; he can’t remember how to function without him. Nate would swear that John’s magic extended past spells, as the lightest of brushes of their lips would drain any worry away.

           Imagining their kissing leads to other things and Nate shifts in his seat at the sudden stiffening of his dick. He bites his lip, hand fluttering towards his crotch. It hovers as he debates whether or not he should touch. The office had been empty for quite some time, and no one was left but him. His fingers had only pressed against the zipper when a knock comes from his open door.

           Seizing, Nate straightens in his seat and turns to his surprise guest. His gaze sets upon the familiar figure, his jaw clamping into a forced smile.

           Roger Kant leans against the doorway, smirking down at him. “Am I interrupting something, Mr. Heywood?”

           Blushing, Nate breaks from his gaze. “Catching up on some work is all, Mr. Kant –“

           “Please,” he chuckles, stepping into the room, “Call me Roger. I much prefer that than ol’ Mr. Kant…” Roger takes the seat without question, swinging his leg over the other. Nate’s face falls slightly at Roger’s decision to stay, but he doesn’t let his displeasure show for long.

           “Well then… you don’t have to address me as Mr. Heywood,” Nate says, “Makes me feel like my dad.”

           Roger chuckles. “Don’t like being compared to your father?”

           “I wouldn’t say that…”

           “He’s a good man, I mean to be honored so beautifully at that dinner the other night…”

           Nate raises a brow. “You were there?”

           “Of course,” Roger says, “Your father and I are working very closely on a project together… I’ve grown fond of him in our short time together. Him and… his family.” His lecherous smirk isn’t lost on Nate, and he shudders at how invasive Roger’s stare is. Like he’s being flayed piece by piece to expose his soul.

           Shaking his head, Nate focuses on the first part of his sentence. “You two work together? I don’t remember my dad saying anything about what it is…”

           “I would hope so,” Roger says, “classified and other long words the government uses… but I’m sure you already have a good idea about what it is we’re doing, don’t you?”

           Stammering, Nate says, “What – I don’t –“

           “Please don’t lie to me Nate,” Roger says, “I saw you and your friend sneaking off with Hank’s phone. You two were very sneaky… I thought it was hilarious.”

           “You did?” Nate asks, “Is that… why you’re visiting?”

           “No, not really,” Roger sighs, leaning back in his seat, “Your father told me about how you were sniffing around, said he threw you off the scent though. I didn’t buy that. People like you never give up when they’ve got a whiff.”

           Nate frowns, “And what kind of people are you talking about?”

           “Heroes, Nate,” Roger tells him, “That’s what you and your friends aboard the Waverider call yourselves, right?”

           He sighs, standing from his desk. “Listen, Mr. Kant, I don’t take kindly to being insulted in my office. If you came here to threaten me –“

           “On the contrary Nate,” Roger interrupts, “I came here to tell you what we’re doing.”

           Trailing off into silence, Nate blinks wide-eyes at Roger. “You… what?”

           “I figure you deserve to know,” Roger continues, fingers steeped under his chin, “Your father thinks he’s protecting you, but nothing’s ever been gained from ignorance. Now, are you going to sit back down or will you continue stomping around like your britches are bigger than they are?”

           Nate tears himself away, glancing down at his computer. One of Zari’s emails was open, detailing a few files she found that were triple-encrypted. It would be a long time before they’d access whatever information hid inside. A part of his conscious screamed at him in a funny accent not to trust the man before him, though. Saying that it’d be like getting into bed with the devil, convincing with its scotch-roughened syllables. But then he glances back at Roger, the picture of plaintive charity painted across his face in wide strokes.

           He sits, sighing. “What are you and my dad doing?”

           “Hank and I are working on a project by the name of HADES – do you know what that means?”

           “Hades was the god of the underworld right?” Nate says, “And whatever you’re doing involves the creatures the Bureau’s been locking up here.”

           “Smart,” Roger grins, “But it’s more than that. HADES is an acronym, meaning Helping American Deployment Eradicate and Save. It’s a joint program within the military to train these creatures to support our troops wherever they may be. Whether in covert operations or rescue missions, we plan to use the refugees in the only American way there is – to our own benefit! Nuclear power is an 80’s thing. Do you think North Korea can scare us when we have a more untapped power under our control: magic?”

           “You’re using these creatures,” Nate says, “Kidnapping them, and –“

           “They’re government property whether in your hands or ours,” Roger tells him, “And yes our methods at transport are a bit… barbaric, but only because there’s a language barrier. We’re working on developing a universal translator to help explain what we intend to do.”

           Nate rubs at his jaw, thinking. “When you put it that way… it does,” he frowns, “it does sound good.”

           “Doesn’t it? Your father bought it when I explained it that way to him.”

           Startled, Nate’s head whips up to meet Roger’s shifting features. The kind innocence was shredded to reveal a shadowy expression. “Bought it, what’re you –“

           “Talking about? Just our plans for Project HADES of course – you wanted the truth, didn’t you?” Roger chuckles, uncrossing his legs so as to switch their position. “Figured it’d be best to start out with what your daddy knows, then pull the rug out from under. Like a preview of what’s to come when I drag ol’ Hank’s wool away from his eyes.” At Nate’s glare, Roger rolls his eyes, “Oh come on, you think there wouldn’t be any more lies? Your daddy’s a high-ranking tool but there’re more powerful pieces at play here. He just likes to think he’s the king when really he’s another pawn.”

           Nate snarls, “Then what does that make me, huh? An extra piece?”

           “Well,” Roger leans in, “If you would care to, the king is nothing without his queen…?”

           He shifts into steel. “I don’t think so.” Roger, looking bored, snaps his finger. Nate’s shell softens and melts back into his skin. Before he could gasp in shock, Nate realizes his body cannot move. Struggling in his chair, Nate knows he’s at mercy to the man before him. The man who has many more secrets than what he’s working on.

           “I like ‘em feisty,” Roger says, standing. He saunters around the desk over towards Nate, kneeling down to nuzzle at his side. “Makes it all the more satisfying when you stake your claim… Although,” he toys with Nate’s tie – John’s tie – and smirks, “I understand your hesitation. Your loyalties lie elsewhere, in the bed of an old friend…” Roger presses a kiss to the nape of Nate’s neck. “John did know how to pick amazing bedfellows…”

           Seething, Nate angrily darts his eyes towards Roger. “What do you know about John?”

           “Many things,” Roger whispers into his ear, “The body I wear now has so many memories and marks of his and John’s time together.”

           “What the… body you wear?” Nate’s heart creeps into his stomach to hide, gut churning it around like a mixer. “What are you? What did you do?”

           Roger stands, sitting on the desk and peering down at him. “What I did was collect on a deal. Desmond here promised me his soul if I wouldn’t harm John Constantine’s body and… when I get locked away in a hell prison, so did he. The silly things you do for love.”

           “What?”

           “Oh, did John never tell you?” Roger’s smirk grows so wide it nearly snaps his face in two. “You’d think a man would learn after watching someone he cares for get taken from him… But if it happens again well, shame on him that’s how the saying goes.”

           “Who the hell do you think you are?”

           Roger dips his head in close, face melting away into a bunch of tiny little holes that ooze and hiss. A few bugs crawl out and slither over to disappear inside another opening. Nate couldn’t flinch nor close his eyes, forced to stare into the abyss of horror. “Neron,” a high-pitched whine cackles, “King of Hell.”

           In a snap, the human face returns. Nate’s mouth wavers, unsure of what to do. Roger watches him amusedly, “Well? Isn’t this the part where you tell me I’ll never get away with it? Good will prevail and all that other crap –“

           “I – I… why are you telling me this?” Nate asks, “Why show your hand this early?”

           “Like I said… smart.” Roger moves to his computer, scanning his conversations with Zari. “I wanted to figure out how far along you are with your investigations. It’d be a problem if you buffoons broke the case wide open… would ruin the surprise attack I have in store.”

           “Surprise attack?” Nate asks, “That’s what HADES is for? You’re training your own army?”

           “Been training them, but I never could get past the barriers of Hell – until you and your friends did the dirty work for me,” Roger says, clicking back to the e-mail Nate was on originally. “Once I have them all back under my control, all the souls of the world will be mine!”

           “And you couldn’t just stick with working for the government?” Nate asks, “Seeing how you operate you could be President in no time.”

           Roger chuckles. “You flatter me. The only reason I took this job was because I enjoy the irony that comes from people who hold all the cards realize they were playing the wrong game to begin with.”

           “And now what?” Nate asks, “Kill me? You think that won’t alert people as to what’s going on?”

           “I don’t want to hurt you,” Roger coos, dragging a cold hand down his face. Nate sneers at the touch. “I want you to join me –“

           “Like hell I will!”

           “Maybe not now, but soon enough,” Roger sighs, stepping away, “Until then, I want you to forget everything you’ve seen and heard since I’ve been in the room.”

           “As if you have the power to do that –“

           Roger snaps, and Nate’s head lolls onto his chest. Effectively taken out, Roger moves over towards the door. Pausing in the doorway, he turns back and smirks at him. “You’ll be mine, Nate Heywood, just like everything else that was John’s. Until then… you might as well make the most of your time together. Make it even worse for when I steal you away.” Snapping his fingers, Roger disappears.

           Nate comes to moments later, head ringing. He blinks back into consciousness, searching the room. “Huh,” he yawns, “Must’ve fell asleep at the office.” Stretching, he starts packing up for the night. Locking up, he reaches into his phone and dials a familiar number. John picks up on the third ring.

           “Hey,” Nate says, “I miss you… I know, what with Ava and… it’s been forever since we spent the night. Do you think you could sneak away for a little… really? Okay, I’m heading home now, I’ll meet you there in tweny…”

[nurseperriestyles-blog]

Useless

“I still don’t understand why Perrie is here..” Eren grumbled, causing Perrie to roll her eyes.

Perrie slid off of Mikasa’s back and immediately sank down, refusing to look anywhere but at her shoes.

“I’m a nurse.” she shrugged, and Eren rolled his eyes back at her.

“What do you think you’ll be able to do? You had to get a piggy back from Mikasa just to get here, and you can’t even stand up.” he countered, and Perrie put her hands on her hips and scrunched her nose.

“My knees are busted and I’m afraid of heights!”

“You’re such a baby!”

“And you’re being ungrateful...again!”

The two sounded like children arguing, and the Garrison soldiers around them exchanged irritated glances.

“Hey, we have bigger things to worry about here.” Rico snapped, causing the two to shut up.

“Alright, let’s go then!” Eren and the rest jumped from the Wall, while Perrie and Rico stayed behind.

“Hold your ears, this will be loud.” Rico instructed as she pulled out the signal gun. Perrie did as she was told and the emerald smoke flew high above them, letting the other group know the mission had begun. “Okay, stay here for now. It’s too dangerous for you to be down there with no gear. We’ll send someone to get you when the mission is over.”

Perrie nodded and watched as Rico shot off in the direction of Eren and the others.

“Good luck!” she called after them, her fingers crossed.

After a few minutes, she lost sight of them, but when a brilliant flash of lightning bathed everything in bright yellow light, she knew about where they were.

A thunderous roar permeated the air, and Perrie saw Eren’s Titan form burst through the plume of smoke. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as the Titan’s glowing green eyes scanned its surroundings, but she immediately felt as if something was wrong.

He stood slightly hunched forward, his shoulders squared and his chest bowed out. Perrie recognized that stance from the infirmary; hysterical or violent patients took that stance right before they attacked a nurse..

“Shit!” Perrie hissed as Eren punched a hole through a building. Though she couldn’t see, she knew he had took a swing at one of the soldiers.

She felt completely useless as she watched him jump around, punching and kicking the buildings. Suddenly, she saw him punch himself in the face, knocking him into a building. Shortly after, a red flare sliced through the sky.

Goddamnit, all I can do is sit and wait..

All she could do was stare in their direction, hoping that Eren would stand up and complete the mission. She wished she could get down there and make sure he was okay..

She wished that none of this was even happening.

So many lives were going to end because of this mission, and the thought made Perrie sick. Sending people to die, watching helplessly as they did so..those were the things Perrie stood completely against. It killed her to watch people die.

She remembered Grisha telling her that every life was precious..that she should always try her hardest and her best to save someone..but she pushed the thought of him aside; it only made her heart ache and her jaw clench.

Doctor Yeager, what did you do?

Several minutes later, after sitting there watching and waiting, she heard footsteps running towards her. When she looked up, she saw Armin approaching.

“Where are they? What happened?” he asked through labored breaths.

“There. I don’t know what happened, I couldn’t see very well. I just saw him attacking them all of a sudden, and now Titans are heading towards them.” Armin’s eyes went wide as she spoke, and he ran a hand through his hair.

“Stay here!” he ordered as he shot off towards the others.

“Well, where the fuck else would I go!” she yelled after him, throwing her arms up in frustration.

Her irritation melted away quickly, though, as she noticed a swarm of Titans slowly marching towards the group. Her heart stopped at the sight, and she felt like crying.

I’m so fucking useless! What if they’re all killed? I’m just sitting here watching!

Slowly but surely the Titans started to fall, but still more came.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, a familiar roar met Perrie’s ears, and she saw Eren stand.

“Yes!!” she cheered, jumping to her feet.

Over the rooftops, she could see the boulder slowly inching closer and closer to the hole. Hope drenched Perrie’s entire being and she felt light headed. It didn’t even matter that she was standing on top of a fifty meter high wall, or that Eren was a Titan...humanity was about to win its first victory over the Titans, and Perrie was watching it happen.

As they got closer, Perrie could see all of the soldiers assisting Eren. More had joined since the mission had started, and Perrie’s heart swelled with pride..

Until she saw them dying.

There was blood everywhere. Perrie watched as Titans plucked the soldiers from the ground and from the sky and swallowed them whole. She watched them crush them, stomp on them, and pull them apart..

She slowly sank to her knees, her lips slightly parted, her hands hanging limply at her sides.

There was nothing she could do except watch them die.

She watched as Mikasa and Rico sliced through them, she watched as Armin shouted at Eren through tears, she watched as Eren slammed the boulder down, fitting it perfectly into the hole. She watched as yellow smoke shot into the air.

She sobbed as she realized they had won.

“Why are you here? And why are you blubbering like a baby?”

Perrie hadn’t even heard him approach her over her crying, so when she looked up and saw Captain Levi, she jumped a little.

“E-Eren plugged the wall.” she stuttered dumbly, limply pointing down.

Levi glanced down and nodded.

“He’s a Titan, then?” he asked.

“He’s a Titan.” she confirmed.

“Are you alright? You look like shit.”

Perrie bristled and almost argued with him, until she heard screaming from below.

“Shouldn’t you be helping them?” she demanded, finding her strength.

Levi stared at her for just a bit longer, then, without a word, he was gone.

“Perrie?!”

Perrie was suddenly pulled to her feet with Ty’s hands gripping her shoulders. His eyes were wide with confusion.

“Why are you here?” He questioned.

Perrie was too elated to reply. Anytime the Survey Corps went on expeditions, she worried about Ty constantly. And after the day she was having, the sight of him alive and unhurt brought her unfathomable joy.

When she heard screams from below, she was pulled back to reality.

“You have to take me down there!” Perrie tried to rush to the edge of the wall to look down, but Ty wouldn’t let her go. When she looked back at him, she was startled.

The only time she had ever seen him look scared was the day he and his father picked her and Desmond up from the refugee camp after the wall fell. His eyes seemed to drink every bit of her in, relishing in the fact that she was okay. For the rest of the day, Ty held her hand, only letting it go when she went to sleep that night.

He had that look now, for some reason.

“Why are you here?! This is absolutely no place for a civilian.” His voice was even, but there was a hint of something lingering inside...anger, maybe? Fear?

Perrie shook her head impatiently.

“Look, I get that, but you need to take me down there right now, Ty.” She tried to keep calm, but the thought of Eren coming out of his Titan body..she didn’t have time to argue.

“Perrie, you need to get out of—“

“I’ll jump and you’ll have to take me then.” She cut in, stepping away from him. Ty’s face was white and incredulous.

“What is going on, Perrie? Have you lost your mind?”

“Just take me down there, goddamnit! Eren needs me and Commander Pyxis gave me express permission to aid Eren!” Perrie used her firm, no nonsense nurse voice that she saved only for difficult patients. She didn’t have time for this.

Ty gaped at her, unable to formulate and answer. Finally, he clamped his mouth shut, clenched his jaw and grabbed her roughly.

Perrie had never seen Ty act in such a manner. He was always laughing and smiling, making jokes and never taking anything seriously. His lazy smile and bright eyes were Perrie’s favorite things in the world.

Perrie didn’t recognize this Ty.

Once on the ground, Ty let her go as if she were burning his hands and he zipped off to help his fellow scouts kill the few Titans remaining. Perrie ran to Eren’s side, where Armin and Mikasa we’re trying to wake him up. Captain Levi was standing on the back of a slain Titan, cleaning it’s steaming blood from his blades.

“He’s burning the fuck up.” Perrie muttered, her hands roaming over his face and neck. “He probably stayed inside the Titan too long. Transforming twice in one day for such extended periods of time probably isn’t good for him. He’s completely over exerted himself. Shit.”

Levi watched as the nurse examined the boy, her face a stony mask of determination. She showed no fear in her face, just in her hands, which shook softly.

“So that’s why you’re here.” He said, walking over to where she crouched beside Eren. “You know, we’re going to have to take him into military custody. The military police are probably salivating at the thought of hanging him.”

“They’re not going to touch him.” Perrie said matter of factly, not even looking at him. Her reply caused Levi to snort.

“Oh? And I suppose you’ll be the one to stop them?”

Perrie glared up at him, but knew better than to argue. There were more important things to do at the moment, and she couldn’t get her temper cloud her judgment.

“Let’s get out of here, then. They’ll need to begin cleaning this place up, and Eren will need to be put into custody.” Levi jumped down from the Titan and sheathed his blades. Mikasa stepped between him and Eren, causing Levi to glare at her.

“Look, I am not your enemy here, girl. If you want to keep him safe, you have to trust me.” he said coolly. “And you,” he looked at Perrie. “You look like death. Go home and clean yourself up.”

“What? No! I’m not leaving him!” Perrie argued, standing up and taking a step towards the captain.

There was a flash of green and Ty was suddenly beside her, grabbing her arm. He was breathing hard and had steaming blood on his cape.

“I’m taking you home, like it or not, Pear.” his voice was steel, and Perrie stared at him with wide eyes and a furrowed brow.

“It’s Eren, Ty! I can’t--”

“I don’t care. Your dad is going to kill us both when he finds out you were in the middle of a Titan battle. Imagine how he’d feel if you got killed down here, Perrie!”

Ty’s words struck Perrie so hard she took a step back from him. Shame pinched her heart at the thought of her father being left all alone, and frustration flashed in her eyes at Ty for being so mean.

“Why are you acting like this?” she demanded softly.

“Because imagine how I’d feel if you got killed down here.” his voice was soft, back to it’s usual self, but a strange smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Perrie faltered then, and looked back down at Eren, and then to Levi, who looked completely unamused by the exchange.

“Promise he’ll be okay.” Perrie said, pointing at Eren.

Levi quirked a brow.

“Promise that you won’t let them kill him, and promise I’ll be able to see him again--”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep, nurse.” Levi cut in, causing Perrie to wince slightly.

Perrie watched as he walked away from her, and she felt Ty’s hand curl around her wrist.

“Tell them goodbye and let’s go.” he whispered.

Perrie spun around and went to Mikasa and Armin, who were kneeling beside Eren. She hugged Armin first, and then Mikasa, who actually returned it.

“Stick together and be safe.” Perrie said.

She looked down at Eren and brushed the hair from his forehead.

“Don’t cause too much trouble, kid.” she whispered before kissing his forehead.

Perrie gave them one last smile before walking back to Ty, who picked her up gently.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Pear.”

[thecosmicprincesss]

E7 | Wedding Bells and Baby Booms

It had been a few months later when I had our son, Cecil, cementing our claim to the main branch. Gods alive, I can't thank you enough. I won't blow it this time... I promise.

Kristofer invited Desmond out to Thirst, a club specifically for Vampires to meet and greet each other... and sneak in a few bites.

“You seem nervous,” Desmond said as he nursed his drink.

“Well...” he hesitated.

“Out with it, you asked me here for more than just a drink right?”

“I wanted your advice. I know you've been going through a lot at home but... I really need my brother right now.”

Desmond eyed him suspiciously, then shook his head. “What is it?”

“I... want to ask Candy to marry me.”

“Is that what you're nervous about?”

“I wanted your approval.”

“My approval? You don't need my approval, it's your life brother.”

“Be that as it may, I still value your opinion. You took a wife, you're happy despite everything that's happened to the two of you. You know more about making things work than I do. How do you do it?”

He was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Believe me, I haven't always been the best husband. Considering that Lily started in my basement.” He laughed softly at that, running his finger around the rim of the glass, eyes trained on the contents inside as the ice melted, watering down the drink. “How she sticks around after how I treat her sometimes is beyond me.”

He turned in his chair, considering his words. “She must really love you.” He looked at him for a long time, the silence becoming maddening. “So... should I ask her?”

“If you can see yourself with her, do it.” Desmond turned to him and grinned deviously. “Then you can be more open about your outings with her.”

Kristofer's face was priceless as he turned completely away and back to his drink, downing it in one shot, Desmond's laughter was loud in his ears.

That night Kristofer took Candy to the Gale House, a restaurant that was once a 20th century home. He stared at her from across the table, nerves shaken. “Candy.”

“Mmm?” She was staring down at the menu, eyes trained on the delectable delights they had at the ready.

He cleared his throat and slowly reached for her hand. “Candy...” He stood then and made her get out of the chair.

Standing away from the table, he took her hands in his and stared down at them with love and affection. It took him a few moments to collect himself.

“Kris?” She raised a brow, wondering what he was doing. It hadn't once occurred to her that he meant to ask her something here. After all, they had many dates at this restaurant before, she didn't think this one was going to be any more special than the others had been.

That is until he dropped down to his knees in front of her. “Candy... We've spent a lot of time together in the last few months and I've come to enjoy the time I spent with you. My heart soars when I think of you. So I was wondering... if you would do this old soul the honor of being his beloved wife?”

For a moment, she was speechless and he wondered if he said something wrong, or if this was too soon.

That was until she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him up onto his feet, pressing a deep kiss to his lips, an acceptance of his proposal if there was any. “Yes!” She cried.

Kristofer grabbed her up in her arms and spun her in excitement.

He stared down at her with the most loving expression a person could share with another. He wanted to carry her like that forever. “Let's elope.”

“Elope!?” She hadn't expected him to be so bold, but then, she liked how he could surprise her out of the blue like that. She nodded. “Alright... but to where?”

“There's a place in the Darkwoods.”

“Let's do it.” She grinned wildly.

“Tonight?” He asked, still grinning ear to ear.

“Why the hell not.”

In the Darkwoods they stood, fingers locked together as they said their vows before the wishing well. Who placed the magic well there and the arch, no one remembered, but with the well's blessing, they wed under the full moon.

They shared their first kiss as Husband and Wife, ready to start the next chapter of their lives.

Meanwhile, back home, Hollie had entered, looking for Seiji. All she found was Bella, still there, painting away, trying to write novel after novel of silent pleas for help, not that anyone would read them. And with Seiji gone she had no reason to be here. She couldn't be bothered with the woman stuck there now. With nothing in the house to tie her to it, she left.

It wasn't too long after that, that Candy showed the signs of being with child. How lucky she had married Kristofer when she had. The existence of their child was validated. In the months that followed Kristofer proved to be not only a good man, but a doting husband and father, and it showed in how he treated his wife and daughter.

On the same token, as Candy discovered three months after the birth of their first child Rosalie, we were both with child again. The house was getting significantly smaller, but despite everything that is riding on Desmond and me to ensure the spot as the main branch, we were all a little happier. I can only hope that Osvaldo is happy too... where ever he was.

E1 | E2 | E3 | E4 | E5 | E6 | E7  

[readbookywooks]

Jon

The mare whickered softly as Jon Snow tightened the cinch. "Easy, sweet lady," he said in a soft voice, quieting her with a touch. Wind whispered through the stable, a cold dead breath on his face, but Jon paid it no mind. He strapped his roll to the saddle, his scarred fingers stiff and clumsy. "Ghost," he called softly, "to me." And the wolf was there, eyes like embers. "Jon, please. You must not do this." He mounted, the reins in his hand, and wheeled the horse around to face the night. Samwell Tarly stood in the stable door, a full moon peering over his shoulder. He threw a giant's shadow, immense and black. "Get out of my way, Sam." "Jon, you can't," Sam said. "I won't let you." "I would sooner not hurt you," Jon told him. "Move aside, Sam, or I'll ride you down." "You won't. You have to listen to me. Please . . . " Jon put his spurs to horseflesh, and the mare bolted for the door. For an instant Sam stood his ground, his face as round and pale as the moon behind him, his mouth a widening O of surprise. At the last moment, when they were almost on him, he jumped aside as Jon had known he would, stumbled, and fell. The mare leapt over him, out into the night. Jon raised the hood of his heavy cloak and gave the horse her head. Castle Black was silent and still as he rode out, with Ghost racing at his side. Men watched from the Wall behind him, he knew, but their eyes were turned north, not south. No one would see him go, no one but Sam Tarly, struggling back to his feet in the dust of the old stables. He hoped Sam hadn't hurt himself, falling like that. He was so heavy and so ungainly, it would be just like him to break a wrist or twist his ankle getting out of the way. "I warned him," Jon said aloud. "It was nothing to do with him, anyway." He flexed his burned hand as he rode, opening and closing the scarred fingers. They still pained him, but it felt good to have the wrappings off. Moonlight silvered the hills as he followed the twisting ribbon of the kingsroad. He needed to get as far from the Wall as he could before they realized he was gone. On the morrow he would leave the road and strike out overland through field and bush and stream to throw off pursuit, but for the moment speed was more important than deception. It was not as though they would not guess where he was going. The Old Bear was accustomed to rise at first light, so Jon had until dawn to put as many leagues as he could between him and the Wall . . . if Sam Tarly did not betray him. The fat boy was dutiful and easily frightened, but he loved Jon like a brother. If questioned, Sam would doubtless tell them the truth, but Jon could not imagine him braving the guards in front of the King's Tower to wake Mormont from sleep. When Jon did not appear to fetch the Old Bear's breakfast from the kitchen, they'd look in his cell and find Longclaw on the bed. It had been hard to abandon it, but Jon was not so lost to honor as to take it with him. Even Jorah Mormont had not done that, when he fled in disgrace. Doubtless Lord Mormont would find someone more worthy of the blade. Jon felt bad when he thought of the old man. He knew his desertion would be salt in the still-raw wound of his son's disgrace. That seemed a poor way to repay him for his trust, but it couldn't be helped. No matter what he did, Jon felt as though he were betraying someone. Even now, he did not know if he was doing the honorable thing. The southron had it easier. They had their septons to talk to, someone to tell them the gods' will and help sort out right from wrong. But the Starks worshiped the old gods, the nameless gods, and if the heart trees heard, they did not speak. When the last lights of Castle Black vanished behind him, Jon slowed his mare to a walk. He had a long journey ahead and only the one horse to see him through. There were holdfasts and farming villages along the road south where he might be able to trade the mare for a fresh mount when he needed one, but not if she were injured or blown. He would need to find new clothes soon; most like, he'd need to steal them. He was clad in black from head to heel; high leather riding boots, roughspun breeches and tunic, sleeveless leather jerkin, and heavy wool cloak. His longsword and dagger were sheathed in black moleskin, and the hauberk and coif in his saddlebag were black ringmail. Any bit of it could mean his death if he were taken. A stranger wearing black was viewed with cold suspicion in every village and holdfast north of the Neck, and men would soon be watching for him. Once Maester Aemon's ravens took flight, Jon knew he would find no safe haven. Not even at Winterfell. Bran might want to let him in, but Maester Luwin had better sense. He would bar the gates and send Jon away, as he should. Better not to call there at all. Yet he saw the castle clear in his mind's eye, as if he had left it only yesterday; the towering granite walls, the Great Hall with its smells of smoke and dog and roasting meat, his father's solar, the turret room where he had slept. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to hear Bran laugh again, to sup on one of Gage's beef-and-bacon pies, to listen to Old Nan tell her tales of the children of the forest and Florian the Fool. But he had not left the Wall for that; he had left because he was after all his father's son, and Robb's brother. The gift of a sword, even a sword as fine as Longclaw, did not make him a Mormont. Nor was he Aemon Targaryen. Three times the old man had chosen, and three times he had chosen honor, but that was him. Even now, Jon could not decide whether the maester had stayed because he was weak and craven, or because he was strong and true. Yet he understood what the old man had meant, about the pain of choosing; he understood that all too well. Tyrion Lannister had claimed that most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it, but Jon was done with denials. He was who he was; Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. For the rest of his life—however long that might be—he would be condemned to be an outsider, the silent man standing in the shadows who dares not speak his true name. Wherever he might go throughout the Seven Kingdoms, he would need to live a lie, lest every man's hand be raised against him. But it made no matter, so long as he lived long enough to take his place by his brother's side and help avenge his father. He remembered Robb as he had last seen him, standing in the yard with snow melting in his auburn hair. Jon would have to come to him in secret, disguised. He tried to imagine the look on Robb's face when he revealed himself. His brother would shake his head and smile, and he'd say . . . he'd say . . . He could not see the smile. Hard as he tried, he could not see it. He found himself thinking of the deserter his father had beheaded the day they'd found the direwolves. "You said the words," Lord Eddard had told him. "You took a vow, before your brothers, before the old gods and the new." Desmond and Fat Tom had dragged the man to the stump. Bran's eyes had been wide as saucers, and Jon had to remind him to keep his pony in hand. He remembered the look on Father's face when Theon Greyjoy brought forth Ice, the spray of blood on the snow, the way Theon had kicked the head when it came rolling at his feet. He wondered what Lord Eddard might have done if the deserter had been his brother Benjen instead of that ragged stranger. Would it have been any different? It must, surely, surely . . . and Robb would welcome him, for a certainty. He had to, or else . . . It did not bear thinking about. Pain throbbed, deep in his fingers, as he clutched the reins. Jon put his heels into his horse and broke into a gallop, racing down the kingsroad, as if to outrun his doubts. Jon was not afraid of death, but he did not want to die like that, trussed and bound and beheaded like a common brigand. If he must perish, let it be with a sword in his hand, fighting his father's killers. He was no true Stark, had never been one . . . but he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three. Ghost kept pace with them for almost half a mile, red tongue lolling from his mouth. Man and horse alike lowered their heads as he asked the mare for more speed. The wolf slowed, stopped, watching, his eyes glowing red in the moonlight. He vanished behind, but Jon knew he would follow, at his own pace. Scattered lights flickered through the trees ahead of him, on both sides of the road: Mole's Town. A dog barked as he rode through, and he heard a mule's raucous haw from the stable, but otherwise the village was still. Here and there the glow of hearth fires shone through shuttered windows, leaking between wooden slats, but only a few. Mole's Town was bigger than it seemed, but three quarters of it was under the ground, in deep warm cellars connected by a maze of tunnels. Even the whorehouse was down there, nothing on the surface but a wooden shack no bigger than a privy, with a red lantern hung over the door. On the Wall, he'd heard men call the whores "buried treasures." He wondered whether any of his brothers in black were down there tonight, mining. That was oathbreaking too, yet no one seemed to care. Not until he was well beyond the village did Jon slow again. By then both he and the mare were damp with sweat. He dismounted, shivering, his burned hand aching. A bank of melting snow lay under the trees, bright in the moonlight, water trickling off to form small shallow pools. Jon squatted and brought his hands together, cupping the runoff between his fingers. The snowmelt was icy cold. He drank, and splashed some on his face, until his cheeks tingled. His fingers were throbbing worse than they had in days, and his head was pounding too. I am doing the right thing, he told himself, so why do I feel so bad? The horse was well lathered, so Jon took the lead and walked her for a while. The road was scarcely wide enough for two riders to pass abreast, its surface cut by tiny streams and littered with stone. That run had been truly stupid, an invitation to a broken neck. Jon wondered what had gotten into him. Was he in such a great rush to die? Off in the trees, the distant scream of some frightened animal made him look up. His mare whinnied nervously. Had his wolf found some prey? He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Ghost!" he shouted. "Ghost, to me." The only answer was a rush of wings behind him as an owl took flight. Frowning, Jon continued on his way. He led the mare for half an hour, until she was dry. Ghost did not appear. Jon wanted to mount up and ride again, but he was concerned about his missing wolf. "Ghost," he called again. "Where are you? To me! Ghost!" Nothing in these woods could trouble a direwolf, even a half-grown direwolf, unless . . . no, Ghost was too smart to attack a bear, and if there was a wolf pack anywhere close Jon would have surely heard them howling. He should eat, he decided. Food would settle his stomach and give Ghost the chance to catch up. There was no danger yet; Castle Black still slept. In his saddlebag, he found a biscuit, a piece of cheese, and a small withered brown apple. He'd brought salt beef as well, and a rasher of bacon he'd filched from the kitchens, but he would save the meat for the morrow. After it was gone he'd need to hunt, and that would slow him. Jon sat under the trees and ate his biscuit and cheese while his mare grazed along the kingsroad. He kept the apple for last. It had gone a little soft, but the flesh was still tart and juicy. He was down to the core when he heard the sounds: horses, and from the north. Quickly Jon leapt up and strode to his mare. Could he outrun them? No, they were too close, they'd hear him for a certainty, and if they were from Castle Black . . . He led the mare off the road, behind a thick stand of grey-green sentinels. "Ouiet now," he said in a hushed voice, crouching down to peer through the branches. If the gods were kind, the riders would pass by. Likely as not, they were only smallfolk from Mole's Town, farmers on their way to their fields, although what they were doing out in the middle of the night . . . He listened to the sound of hooves growing steadily louder as they trotted briskly down the kingsroad. From the sound, there were five or six of them at the least. Their voices drifted through the trees. " . . . certain he came this way?" "We can't be certain." "He could have ridden east, for all you know. Or left the road to cut through the woods. That's what I'd do." "In the dark? Stupid. If you didn't fall off your horse and break your neck, you'd get lost and wind up back at the Wall when the sun came up." "I would not." Grenn sounded peeved. "I'd just ride south, you can tell south by the stars." "What if the sky was cloudy?" Pyp asked. "Then I wouldn't go." Another voice broke in. "You know where I'd be if it was me? I'd be in Mole's Town, digging for buried treasure." Toad's shrill laughter boomed through the trees. Jon's mare snorted. "Keep quiet, all of you," Haider said. "I thought I heard something." "Where? I didn't hear anything." The horses stopped. "You can't hear yourself fart." "I can too," Grenn insisted. "Quiet!" They all fell silent, listening. Jon found himself holding his breath. Sam, he thought. He hadn't gone to the Old Bear, but he hadn't gone to bed either, he'd woken the other boys. Damn them all. Come dawn, if they were not in their beds, they'd be named deserters too. What did they think they were doing? The hushed silence seemed to stretch on and on. From where Jon crouched, he could see the legs of their horses through the branches. Finally Pyp spoke up. "What did you hear?" "I don't know," Haider admitted. "A sound, I thought it might have been a horse but . . . " "There's nothing here." Out of the corner of his eye, Jon glimpsed a pale shape moving through the trees. Leaves rustled, and Ghost came bounding out of the shadows, so suddenly that Jon's mare started and gave a whinny. "There!" Halder shouted. "I heard it too!" "Traitor," Jon told the direwolf as he swung up into the saddle. He turned the mare's head to slide off through the trees, but they were on him before he had gone ten feet. "Jon!" Pyp shouted after him. "Pull up," Grenn said. "You can't outrun us all." Jon wheeled around to face them, drawing his sword. "Get back. I don't wish to hurt you, but I will if I have to." "One against seven?" Halder gave a signal. The boys spread out, surrounding him. "What do you want with me?" Jon demanded. "We want to take you back where you belong," Pyp said. "I belong with my brother." "We're your brothers now," Grenn said. "They'll cut off your head if they catch you, you know," Toad put in with a nervous laugh. "This is so stupid, it's like something the Aurochs would do." "I would not," Grenn said. "I'm no oathbreaker. I said the words and I meant them." "So did I," Jon told them. "Don't you understand? They murdered my father. It's war, my brother Robb is fighting in the riverlands—" "We know," said Pyp solemnly. "Sam told us everything." "We're sorry about your father," Grenn said, "but it doesn't matter. Once you say the words, you can't leave, no matter what." "I have to," Jon said fervently. "You said the words," Pyp reminded him. "Now my watch begins, you said it. It shall not end until my death." "I shall live and die at my post," Grenn added, nodding. "You don't have to tell me the words, I know them as well as you do." He was angry now. Why couldn't they let him go in peace? They were only making it harder. "I am the sword in the darkness," Halder intoned. "The watcher on the walls," piped Toad. Jon cursed them all to their faces. They took no notice. Pyp spurred his horse closer, reciting, "I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men." "Stay back," Jon warned him, brandishing his sword. "I mean it, Pyp." They weren't even wearing armor, he could cut them to pieces if he had to. Matthar had circled behind him. He joined the chorus. "I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch." Jon kicked his mare, spinning her in a circle. The boys were all around him now, closing from every side. "For this night . . . " Halder trotted in from the left. " . . . and all the nights to come," finished Pyp. He reached over for Jon's reins. "So here are your choices. Kill me, or come back with me." Jon lifted his sword . . . and lowered it, helpless. "Damn you," he said. "Damn you all." "Do we have to bind your hands, or will you give us your word you'll ride back peaceful?" asked Halder. "I won't run, if that's what you mean." Ghost moved out from under the trees and Jon glared at him. "Small help you were," he said. The deep red eyes looked at him knowingly. "We had best hurry," Pyp said. "If we're not back before first light, the Old Bear will have all our heads." Of the ride back, Jon Snow remembered little. It seemed shorter than the journey south, perhaps because his mind was elsewhere. Pyp set the pace, galloping, walking, trotting, and then breaking into another gallop. Mole's Town came and went, the red lantern over the brothel long extinguished. They made good time. Dawn was still an hour off when Jon glimpsed the towers of Castle Black ahead of them, dark against the pale immensity of the Wall. It did not seem like home this time. They could take him back, Jon told himself, but they could not make him stay. The war would not end on the morrow, or the day after, and his friends could not watch him day and night. He would bide his time, make them think he was content to remain here . . . and then, when they had grown lax, he would be off again. Next time he would avoid the kingsroad. He could follow the Wall east, perhaps all the way to the sea, a longer route but a safer one. Or even west, to the mountains, and then south over the high passes. That was the wildling's way, hard and perilous, but at least no one wouid follow him. He wouldn't stray within a hundred leagues of Winterfell or the kingsroad. Samwell Tarly awaited them in the old stables, slumped on the ground against a bale of hay, too anxious to sleep. He rose and brushed himself off. "I . . . I'm glad they found you, Jon." "I'm not," Jon said, dismounting. Pyp hopped off his horse and looked at the lightening sky with disgust. "Give us a hand bedding down the horses, Sam," the small boy said. "We have a long day before us, and no sleep to face it on, thanks to Lord Snow." When day broke, Jon walked to the kitchens as he did every dawn. Three-Finger Hobb said nothing as he gave him the Old Bear's breakfast. Today it was three brown eggs boiled hard, with fried bread and ham steak and a bowl of wrinkled plums. Jon carried the food back to the King's Tower. He found Mormont at the window seat, writing. His raven was walking back and forth across his shoulders, muttering, "Corn, corn, corn." The bird shrieked when Jon entered. "Put the food on the table," the Old Bear said, glancing up. "I'll have some beer." Jon opened a shuttered window, took the flagon of beer off the outside ledge, and filled a horn. Hobb had given him a lemon, still cold from the Wall. Jon crushed it in his fist. The juice trickled through his fingers. Mormont drank lemon in his beer every day, and claimed that was why he still had his own teeth. "Doubtless you loved your father," Mormont said when Jon brought him his horn. "The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember when I told you that?" "I remember," Jon said sullenly. He did not care to talk of his father's death, not even to Mormont. "See that you never forget it. The hard truths are the ones to hold tight. Fetch me my plate. Is it ham again? So be it. You look weary. Was your moonlight ride so tiring?" Jon's throat was dry. "You know?" "Know," the raven echoed from Mormont's shoulder. "Know." The Old Bear snorted. "Do you think they chose me Lord Commander of the Night's Watch because I'm dumb as a stump, Snow? Aemon told me you'd go. I told him you'd be back. I know my men . . . and my boys too. Honor set you on the kingsroad . . . and honor brought you back." "My friends brought me back," Jon said. "Did I say it was your honor?" Mormont inspected his plate. "They killed my father. Did you expect me to do nothing?" "If truth be told, we expected you to do just as you did." Mormont tried a plum, spit out the pit. "I ordered a watch kept over you., You were seen leaving. If your brothers had not fetched you back, you would have been taken along the way, and not by friends. Unless you have a horse with wings like a raven. Do you?" "No." Jon felt like a fool. "Pity, we could use a horse like that." Jon stood tall. He told himself that he would die well; that much he could do, at the least. "I know the penalty for desertion, my lord. I'm not afraid to die." "Die!" the raven cried. "Nor live, I hope," Mormont said, cutting his ham with a dagger and feeding a bite to the bird. "You have not deserted—yet. Here you stand. If we beheaded every boy who rode to Mole's Town in the night, only ghosts would guard the Wall. Yet maybe you mean to flee again on the morrow, or a fortnight from now. Is that it? Is that your hope, boy?" Jon kept silent. "I thought so." Mormont peeled the shell off a boiled egg. "Your father is dead, lad. Do you think you can bring him back?" "No," he answered, sullen. "Good," Mormont said. "We've seen the dead come back, you and me, and it's not something I care to see again." He ate the egg in two bites and flicked a bit of shell out from between his teeth. "Your brother is in the field with all the power of the north behind him. Any one of his lords bannermen commands more swords than you'll find in all the Night's Watch. Why do you imagine that they need your help? Are you such a mighty warrior, or do you carry a grumkin in your pocket to magic up your sword?" Jon had no answer for him. The raven was pecking at an egg, breaking the shell. Pushing his beak through the hole, he pulled out morsels of white and yoke. The Old Bear sighed. "You are not the only one touched by this war. Like as not, my sister is marching in your brother's host, her and those daughters of hers, dressed in men's mail. Maege is a hoary old snark, stubborn, short-tempered, and willful. Truth be told, I can hardly stand to be around the wretched woman, but that does not mean my love for her is any less than the love you bear your half sisters." Frowning, Mormont took his last egg and squeezed it in his fist until the shell crunched. "Or perhaps it does. Be that as it may, I'd still grieve if she were slain, yet you don't see me running off. I said the words, just as you did. My place is here . . . where is yours, boy?" I have no place, Jon wanted to say, I'm a bastard, I have no rights, no name, no mother, and now not even a father. The words would not come. "I don't know." "I do," said Lord Commander Mormont. "The cold winds are rising, Snow. Beyond the Wall, the shadows lengthen. Cotter Pyke writes of vast herds of elk, streaming south and east toward the sea, and mammoths as well. He says one of his men discovered huge, misshapen footprints not three leagues from Eastwatch. Rangers from the Shadow Tower have found whole villages abandoned, and at night Ser Denys says they see fires in the mountains, huge blazes that burn from dusk till dawn. Quorin Halfhand took a captive in the depths of the Gorge, and the man swears that Mance Rayder is massing all his people in some new, secret stronghold he's found, to what end the gods only know. Do you think your uncle Benjen was the only ranger we've lost this past year?" "Ben Jen," the raven squawked, bobbing its head, bits of egg dribbling from its beak. "Ben Jen. Ben Jen." "No," Jon said. There had been others. Too many. "Do you think your brother's war is more important than ours?" the old man barked. Jon chewed his lip. The raven flapped its wings at him. "War, war, war, war," it sang. "It's not," Mormont told him. "Gods save us, boy, you're not blind and you're not stupid. When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?" "No." Jon had not thought of it that way. "Your lord father sent you to us, Jon. Why, who can say?" "Why? Why? Why?" the raven called. "All I know is that the blood of the First Men flows in the veins of the Starks. The First Men built the Wall, and it's said they remember things otherwise forgotten. And that beast of yours . . . he led us to the wights, warned you of the dead man on the steps. Ser Jaremy would doubtless call that happenstance, yet Ser Jaremy is dead and I'm not." Lord Mormont stabbed a chunk of ham with the point of his dagger. "I think you were meant to be here, and I want you and that wolf of yours with us when we go beyond the Wall." His words sent a chill of excitement down Jon's back. "Beyond the Wall?" "You heard me. I mean to find Ben Stark, alive or dead." He chewed and swallowed. "I will not sit here meekly and wait for the snows and the ice winds. We must know what is happening. This time the Night's Watch will ride in force, against the King-beyond-the-Wall, the Others, and anything else that may be out there. I mean to command them myself." He pointed his dagger at Jon's chest. "By custom, the Lord Commander's steward is his squire as well . . . but I do not care to wake every dawn wondering if you've run off again. So I will have an answer from you, Lord Snow, and I will have it now. Are you a brother of the Night's Watch . . . or only a bastard boy who wants to play at war?" Jon Snow straightened himself and took a long deep breath. Forgive me, Father. Robb, Arya, Bran . . . forgive me, I cannot help you. He has the truth of it. This is my place. "I am . . . yours, my lord. Your man. I swear it. I will not run again." The Old Bear snorted. "Good. Now go put on your sword."