#every now and then i remember that talia came back to see her childhood home destroyed and her family gone

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

Til sunrise

Word count: 847

Fandom: Lolirock

Characters: Talia, Amaru

Other: Pre-Canon, continuation of episode 6 - Xeris, angst, abandonment, optimistic ending

Created for the first prompts of @whumptober and #lolirocktober (prompts here and here)

She never realised just how cold the castle walls were, but now, hidden by a broken passage, she could feel the chill seeping in through her thin dress. She was still trembling, even when she ran out of tears to cry.

She watched her own reflection in the dark crystal until it got too dark to see anymore, and then she just stared into the blank night. She didn't remember the nights ever being this dark. Was it another spell of Gramorr's? If he could cover the ground with dark crystals, maybe he did something to the sky too? Or it was simply the smoke.

She coughed with another breath and the sound echoed through the empty rooms- ruins. She immediately covered her mouth with her hand. She listened. Her body was tense and she repeated Crystal Collidum in her mind, to execute it perfectly if she had to protect herself. She regretted not remembering any more spells.

Finally after minutes or hours she let her guard down. It was slowly getting brighter and she was now sure that there wasn't anyone but her around. At least not a living soul.

She closed her eyes when she caught a glimpse of another translucent figure with the corner of her eye. She was cold, she was lonely and she was scared. But the darkness under her eyelids was more pleasant than the darkness around her and she finally admitted to herself that above all, she was tired.

She shot up after what felt like mere seconds. Her heart was racing and her eyes darted around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Why was she sleeping on the ground...?

As soon as her gaze fell on the dark crystal before her, the horrors of last night came back to her. She felt a new wave of tears flood her eyes and she hid her face in her knees to at least not have to look at herself as she cried. It would only remind her that there's nobody here to comfort her.

Suddenly, through her own sobs she heard something that filled her both with hope and fear. It was a voice.

"Over there! Can you hear it too?" It was coming from above, from where the main hall used to be.

"The little guy seems to, at least. You really think someone would be here so soon after the attack?" There were more of them.

She pushed herself into the corner and tried to hold her breath but then she felt like suffocating, which would only make her breath more loudly, which would definitely make them hear her, and suddenly she was barely able to breath at all.

The sound of many footsteps was getting closer and she could now distinguish the sound of soft paws on stone among them.

Did Gramorr come back to get her too? Was it Banes?

She squeezed her sister's amulet in one hand and extended the other, trying to calm down enough to summon her magic circle.

"Everyone be ready. It's probably just a looter but..."

But how was she supposed to be calm? Her heart was louder than the patter of the approaching paws.

Her circle flickered and went out and so did her hope. Was he going to eat her? Did Banes eat princesses? Did he eat Izira too?

She clutched the amulet with both hands and squeezed her eyes shut, repeating in her mind all the prayers to the good stars for someone - for her sister - to come save her.

But she didn't feel sharp teeth bite into her flesh, or vicious claws tear her apart. Instead, something soft rubbed over her leg.

She risked opening her eyes.

A pair of big green eyes looked back at her.

She's never actually seen Banes, but she knew it couldn't be him. Banes was giant, could breath fire and was very, very evil. And this little puff of white and purple fur couldn't be evil in the slightest.

It put its paws on her knees and moved closer to sniff her. Its wet nose touched hers and it sneezed, knocking itself over in the process. Talia giggled.

"So who do we have here, little guy?" A pair of boots came into her view and a man bent down into her hiding spot. "Oh. Hello there."

Talia recoiled and her hands went back to the amulet.

The man instinctively reached for her but then stopped and instead put his hands up so she could see that he was unarmed. He knelt down far enough for her not to feel cornered but - as she realised when she was finally brave enough to look at him again - still close enough to obscure the horrible dark crystal.

"Hey, it's alright, we're not here to hurt you." He smiled gently. "You're safe now, the rescue mission is here."

The purple puff climbed back into her lap and Talia finally allowed herself to pet it. It was soft and she was starting to believe that perhaps the man was actually telling the truth.

[lovelucybradford]

I Pretend You’re Mine (5)

A/N: Back with the promised continuation chapter! 

Not sure if you’re interested, but when I was writing, in my head I pictured:

Betty White as Grandma Rose

Richard Madden as Levi

Peter Gallagher as Jason Martin

Scott Eastwood as Drew

Masterlist

Tags: @empath-bunny

@ityagirljay

@wolfarrowepz​

@supernatural-crazed-girl

Five: You Were Romeo (I Was a Scarlet Letter)

Day 1: Thursday, June 13th

7:00 pm- Welcome Cocktails in the Stardust Lounge, Deck 6

“Champagne, miss?” The formally dressed waiter offered a flute of sparkling wine, a raspberry garnish floating in the glass. Rosalie took it from his hands with no hesitation, sending the attendant a silent smile of thanks. She put the glass to her lips, then paused and looked up at Derek.

“Will people judge me if I chug this whole thing right now?” she voiced, loving the amused smile that lit up her partner’s face at the innocent question.

“I thought we didn’t care anymore what people thought of us,” Derek reminded her, though she knew that when he was referring to ‘we’, he really meant her. Derek never was one to care what people thought of him.

Rosalie weighed her options, then decided that her family judged her anyways so why not have a good time?

In order to get through this hellish night, she’d have to be tipsy. Best start now.

Without a word of affirmation, she forewent her instilled manners and chugged the glass down in one long sip. Rosalie wasn’t normally a fan of champagne, unless it was Dom Perignon, which she realized made her sound like a total snob. It was the one thing that she’d inherited from her father, her expensive taste in food and drink. It seemed by the familiar, rich, and delicious taste of the bubbly that the cruise ship staff had only provided the very best for their VIP guests.

Rosalie searched for a place to set her glass, finding a nearby unoccupied table and gently depositing it there. She, quite literally, couldn’t afford to even chip one of the crystal goblets.  She stumbled back to Derek, who was waiting for her with an open arm.

“You ready for this?” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her neck. It caused unvoluntary goosebumps to crawl up her arms, which she prayed he didn’t notice.

Was she ready?

A part of her never would be. She’d purposely left this part of her life behind, knowing all too well how toxic it was for her mental health. But Rosalie knew if she backed out now, then the family would know that they finally got to her. They would think that she was still strung up and heartbroken about Drew, or jealous of her stepsister for getting the diamond that was meant for Rosalie.

And sure, she had been… once upon a time.

Moving back to Beacon Hills, reconnecting with normal people, people she loved more than her own blood relatives… it had put everything into perspective for her again.

Rosalie could once again be herself, be that strong woman that Talia Hale had raised to be when Rosalie’s own mother had fallen short. The strong, kind, generous, goofy, compassionate, empathetic woman with a mind of her own and a head on her shoulders. Not the ice queen, the submissive and serious woman that her father had tried to warp her into.

And for that, Rose was forever thankful.

She was different now, but exactly the same. And this version of her, with her closest confidantes by her side, wouldn’t cower in a corner.

Rosalie held her head high, meeting Derek’s gaze with a confident look in her blue eyes.

“Yes,” she declared, feeling her confidence rise.

“Good.”

“Lead the way, Prince Charming.”

Derek snorted and shook his head at the nickname, but complied and escorted Rosalie further into the room. She searched for a friendly face among the crowd. Normally, she’d be able to find Lydia by her head of bright red hair, but nearly half of the people in the room had some shade of red hair.

Thankfully, Rosalie didn’t have to look all that hard, as Charlotte came bounding up to her aunt, screaming, “Auntie Rosie! Uncle Derek!”

And suddenly, as the child wrapped her arms around one of Derek’s legs and one of Rosalie’s, all of the attention in the room shifted to the couple.

“Is that Rosalie?” her cousin Noah commented to the man next to him.

“Who the hell is that with her? Because dayum, I’d like to tap that ass,” Noah’s twin, Nick, said back.

“That has to be her friend,” Uncle Alex said to his wife, his lips around a glass of Scotch.

“Not with the way he’s holding her. Besides, did you hear her niece call him Uncle? How she managed that is beyond me,” Aunt Sarah replied, looking Rose’s companion up and down with hungry eyes.

Rosalie ignored all the talk, even though it seemed as if the crowd wasn’t even attempting to be discreet in their conversations.

She reached down to pat Charlotte’s blonde head. “Hey, honey! I missed you!”

Derek ruffled Charlotte’s curls playfully, to which the little girl pretended to be angry with him. But Rosalie could see the smile that she was hiding as Charlotte clutched the adults’ legs even harder.

“All right, all right, Charlie. Let’s let Auntie Rosalie and Uncle Derek breathe, yeah?” Rosalie’s brother, Levi, broke through the crowd, detaching his daughter from the couple and telling her to go on and play with her cousins.

As soon as the little girl was out of sight, Levi enveloping his sister in a hug. Derek held out his hand for a friendly shake, but Levi pulled him into an embrace as well, the two men patting each other fondly on the back.

“I’m digging the beard,” Derek approved, gesturing to Levi’s newly grown beard while rubbing his own.

“What can I say? I was inspired by yours. Although I have to say, mine looks a little better. Y’know, because it’s still all one color,” Levi joked, comparing his solid red scruff to Derek’s salt-and-pepper look.

Rosalie elbowed Derek in the side teasingly. “Yeah, you old man!”

Derek raised one brow and stepped away from Rosalie, crossing his arms. “Oh sure, call me old man one more time.”

Rosalie beamed up at him, wagging her own brows. “What would you rather me call you? Sugar daddy?”

With one fell swoop, Derek was pressed against her, fingers tickling the small expanse of visible skin on her waist. Rose squealed with laughter, trying in vain to pull away from him and begging for mercy.

Levi cleared his throat loudly, causing the couple to separate. Rosalie’s cheeks burned red at the embarrassing scene that she had been a part of. Surely her brother would tease her about it.

Instead, Levi looked a bit pissed.

“So, I guess my daughter didn’t dream up your engagement, then. This,” Levi gestured to Rosalie and Derek, “is really happening?”

Derek shifted his weight on both feet. Rosalie bit her lip and looked to the floor guiltily. She loved her brother. She really did. But she knew that Levi had loose lips, and he’d surely have one too many and (unintentionally) let slip the whole ruse. That, and Rose couldn’t take the disappointment from him.

“It’s about fucking time,” Levi added, sounding a lot more jovial. Rosalie’s and Derek’s heads shot up instantly, shocked at his comment.

Levi slapped Derek on the shoulder. “Bro, I am so glad you didn’t listen to me.”

“What’s he talking about?” Rosalie interrogated Derek.

Derek scratched the back of his neck and turned his head towards the large window next to them. Before he could explain, Jess, Levi’s wife, snaked her arms around her husband’s waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Lee was telling me all about how he’d threatened Derek with his guns if he even put his hands on you.”

Rosalie’s jaw dropped. Derek stayed unusually silent. “You gave Der the boyfriend talk?! When was this, big brother?”

Levi raised both hands in surrender. “In my defense, Derek was a horny college kid back then, and I was only trying to protect my little sister. You know the, um, milestones that come with prom night.”

The tapping of a mic interrupted their conversation, which Rosalie was thankful for since she was at a loss for words.

She’d remembered that night in question, fondly. It was the night that she’d realized that she’d had feelings for Derek. Rosalie’s then-boyfriend, Ryan, had dumped her a week before prom for another, more sexy, more experienced, girl. Rosalie was heartbroken, and had sworn off prom, until Derek had shown up on her doorstep in a suit with a pink corsage and a sparkling silver tiara.

She’d laughed, of course, at the reference to the childhood nickname. Then, she’d excitedly rushed upstairs to ready herself, leaving Derek at the mercy of one Levi Martin. Levi Martin, who had, apparently, threatened to cut off Derek’s balls and feed them to the family dog if he had even touched his baby sister in an inappropriate way.

(Levi was always… poetic when it came to his threats.)

Rosalie had hoped, prayed, that as Derek had driven her home in his black Camaro, that he would kiss her, to put a fairytale ending on a perfect night. Sure, he’d kissed her when he dropped her off at her front door… on the cheek, like a brother, or a best friend, might.

Rosalie had dreamt about that night for years afterwards, of what it would be like if he had actually kissed her.

_______________

“I’m sorry, Grandma Rose. I have to go rescue my fiancé from your dear grandson.”

Rosalie stood from the table, feeling a rush in her head for a few seconds. She was definitely tipsier than she thought.

Once Rose got her bearings, she strutted, barefoot, to Derek, who looked highly uncomfortable. With every inch that Nick advanced on Derek, the man backed a considerable distance away.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have an amazing ass?” Rosalie heard Nick flirt from paces away. The way that Nick was looking at Derek, the way that he was blatantly hitting on the man when Nick knew that Derek was taken, it unsettled something in Rosalie. Her vision turned red as she approached the two from behind, wrapping an arm around Derek’s waist.

“Hi Nick. Sorry, this amazing ass is mine.” Rosalie didn’t know what she was saying, didn’t really think through what she was doing. All she knew was that she was grabbing Derek’s right butt cheek with her hand, smiling smugly as Nick’s eyes widened.

Derek waited until Rose’s cousin scurried away before stiffly asking, “Rosalie, why are you grabbing my ass?”

Rosalie let go of Derek immediately, feeling as if she’d spontaneously combust in mortification. “I am, so, so sorry. I just kind of… he was ogling you and it made me mad. Like you’re gorgeous but you’re more than just a pretty face and an incredible ass.” Rosalie’s eyes widened at her word vomit, and now she definitely wanted to throw herself from the nearest balcony and test her drunken theory that she was secretly a mermaid.

“I… I need a drink.”

Derek turned to face her, a hint of a forming chuckle on his lips. “I think you’ve had enough of those, babe.”

Rosalie wished that she could slink away. She wished that someone would hit her in the head, and she’d wake up with amnesia. Maybe she could change her name and move to Antarctica? Yeah, that would be good.

Derek rolled his eyes, grabbing his best friend by the elbow and latching her hand back onto his arm. “I’m not mad at you, Rosalie. Feel free to grab my ass anytime if it makes you feel better.”

Rosalie tried to scowl, but the frown was turning upward with every second. “I hate you so much.”

Derek escorted the two back to Rosalie’s table, where Grandma Rose looked completely unimpressed with the whole shindig. Before they sat, he pulled Rose close and whispered, “I’ll let you grab my ass as long as I can grab yours.”

At that, he pulled out Rosalie’s chair and plopped her down, taking the one next to her. Rose was speechless. Did that actually come out of his mouth? Wait, did he actually want to grab her behind? Yep. Those were his words. Exactly.

Rose’s cheeks flushed a healthy shade of pink. Derek laughed at her slowly coloring face, to which she smacked him on the thigh under the table. Before she could remove her hand, Derek grabbed it and held it between the two of them.

“I always knew the two of you would end up together.” Grandma Rose said wistfully, looking at the couple with soft eyes.

You and everyone else, apparently. Everyone but Derek, Rosalie thought sadly, and tried to shove the painful pang in her heart.

“You know how I knew, Rosalie?” Grandma Rose shakily reached for her flute of champagne, taking a long sip. “I knew it when this one, this big, strong, handsome man,” the old woman reached for Derek’s free hand and patted it kindly, “punched my idiot son in the face at that party, after you got your master’s degree.”

Rosalie snickered at the memory. Jason and Derek had never gotten along. Jason thought Derek was ‘some jock who was too concerned with an unlikely career in basketball instead of his studies’. Derek thought Jason was a ‘pompous, cheating, scumbag, son of a bitch’. (Both quotes were their words exactly)

All of the building tension exploded when Jason had chosen to make a below-the-belt comparison between Rose and Ashleigh’s accomplishments. As if they weren’t celebrating Rosalie graduating from Columbia University, an ivy league, with a master’s degree, with the highest honors.

Derek had broken Jason’s nose. Jason had gotten a restraining order (his favorite defense tactic; it expired last year).

“I’m so sorry,” Derek told Rosalie’s grandmother, though he didn’t sound the least bit remorseful.

“Oh, sweetheart. It wasn’t like every sane person at that party wasn’t thinking the same thing. You were the only one brave enough to do it. Rose’s knight in shining armor.”

Derek’s face flushed red, a rare sight for a man with so much confidence.

“Rosalie, dear. I do have to warn you, Drew and Ashleigh are here.”

Rosalie sighed. She knew that they would be here. The pair had done a very good job at avoiding them; Rose wondered when they’d finally make it around her and Derek’s way. If Rose were lucky, maybe they’d just avoid her the whole trip. Only in her dreams…

“I know, Grandma. I—have you seen them yet?”

“Yes, I had the misfortune of running into both of them while yelling at your father for dragging his ninety-two-year-old mother on an extravagant trip. Do you know how long the plane flight was? Anyways, Drew called me ‘grandma’. You know what I told him, loves?”

Derek and Rosalie looked to each other, both knowing that it was probably something rude. Grandma Rose was Rosalie’s favorite relative, outside of her brother and Lydia. She was the most real of all of them. She spoke her mind and wasn’t afraid to let anyone know how she felt.

“I told him to go fuck himself.”

Derek choked on his glass of white wine. Rosalie smacked him on the back a few times, unable to hold in her shaking laughter.

“Yes, I told dear old Drew to go fuck himself. The only man that’s allowed to call me that is Derek. He doesn’t have his head up his ass. He sees how beautiful, wonderful, and deserving of love my real granddaughter is.”

All jokes aside, Grandma Rose’s words warmed Rosalie’s heart. At least one of the extended family members didn’t think she was a disgrace.

“Well, kids. Would you look at that? The pompous son of a bitch wants to go blab about himself. Someone should go tell him to shut up.”

Rosalie looked to the small stage at the front of the lounge. Sure enough, there was her father, Jason, dressed to the nines in a likely customized Hugo Boss suit, a pink Hibiscus sticking out of his breast pocket. Jason looked around at the crowd, clearing his throat to get the attention of his guests.

“Welcome, everyone! I’m so glad that you’re here and could join me on this fantastic excursion…”

Jason continued his schpeal and Rosalie tuned him out. He was likely talking about how great he was for paying for everyone’s accommodations, or how lucky they were to be spending time with him on this 1K-a-night cruise. Rosalie had heard it all before, multiple times, and she was sick of it, frankly.

What was it about rich people’s money that made them think that they were gods and should be treated as such?

Derek squeezed Rosalie’s hand hard, his nails digging into the back of her hand.

She looked to him in explanation, but he only nodded his head towards the stage.

Where Drew was shepherding Ashleigh up the steps, his hand resting on her backside.

“Yes, as I said, we have two exciting announcements that Evelyn and I could not wait to share with you tonight.”

 Jason looked fondly towards Ashleigh and Drew, who were now hobbling towards him. There were resounding gasps and excited squeals, but Rosalie could only focus on Drew.

Drew was still as handsome as the day that she had first met him. His blue eyes sparkled with confidence and charm. He’d grown a beard since Rosalie had seen him last, wafts of brown hair covering his strong jaw. He stood behind Ashleigh, his hands moving to rest on her stomach, and that’s when time stood still.

Because, under Drew’s lithe fingers, was a protruding bump. Rosalie, despite herself, couldn’t help the gasp that formed around her lips, nor the shaking of her hands.

Drew, when he was with her, had told Rosalie that he didn’t want kids. He’d had daddy issues too and didn’t want his offspring to grow up with a messed-up dad. Even though Rosalie desperately wanted a family, she was so in love with Drew that she’d put those dreams aside, for him.

Now, Drew stood proudly cradling his pregnant fiancée’s stomach as he spoke sweet nothings into her ear, looking thrilled to become a dad.

Derek squeezed Rosalie’s hand tightly, then removed it to wrap around her shoulders instead, nestling her into him. Derek’s lips brushed the top of Rose’s head, then her forehead.

“Fuck, Rosie. I’m so sorry. I… he didn’t deserve you. You’re better off without him. Do you want to go?” Derek whispered huskily in Rosalie’s ear, breaths coming out shallowly.

Rosalie didn’t need to feel the tenseness of his arm around her to know that he was pissed. She could tell just by the tone of his voice that he wanted to kill Drew.

Rosalie turned her head so that now her lips would be close to his ear. “I… I should have known. I—No, we need to stay. If I leave now, then Ashleigh and Evelyn will know that they’ve won, and I can’t let that happen.”

Rosalie rested her head on Derek’s shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace.

Someone kicked her leg under the table. Rosalie raised her head to look at Derek questioningly. His expression matched her own.

“Rosalie? Dear, are you here?” Jason called from the stage, his snake-like grey eyes checking the crowd for his daughter.

“She’s here, you pompous prick!” Grandma Rose yelled to her son, shoving Rosalie gently with a hand to her back. From a distance, Rosalie heard Stiles guffaw. She imagined that Lydia smacked him in the head while trying to control her own laughter.

Jason scowled, but ignored his mother, watching with a forced smile as his daughter and her ‘fiancé’ ascended the stairs. Derek had a tight hold around Rosalie, who had forgone her shoes in the shock of the moment. She leaned on him, both physically and metaphorically, for strength.

“Some more good news for my daughters. Somehow, someone managed to put a ring on my dear little Rosalie. Yes, it shocked us, too. Good on you, Derek!” Jason looked to Rosalie’s bare feet. “And it seems he doesn’t mind her habit for walking around barefoot. Welcome to the family, Derek Hale!”

Most of the crowd laughed, Evelyn and Ashleigh’s shrill merriment sticking out the most. Derek held Rosalie tighter. She bit the inside of her lip in an attempt to stay strong.

From Jason’s other side, Drew asked, “Wait. Isn’t that the guy who broke your nose?”

Derek rested his forehead on the side of Rose’s head, huffing into her ear “Yes. That was me. And if you don’t shut up, I’ll break your nose, too, you douche”.

That made her chuckle, and with his arms securely around her, Rose knew that she’d be alright as long as Derek was by her side.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: Under your wings

Summary: Jason didn’t have black wings as massive as the ones attached to his back. They kind of looked like the wings he’d always wanted to have, but most certainly wouldn’t get.  When Jason got resurrected, his wings weren't red anymore.

AN: For the batfam discord’s @thursday-batfam-prompts Wings

When Jason woke up again, the first thing that disturbed him was the weight on his back. His wings weren’t that heavy. Of course, they had gained some weight with them slowly reaching maturity and their full wingspan. Alfred had said to give it another year before-

Before-

What-

Where was he? What had happened? Where was Bruce, he wanted to go home, he wanted his Dad, why didn’t the laughing stop!?

“Breathe, child.”

Jason could hardly see anything through the haze. Vague figures. A hand.

He couldn’t hear and he was choking on his own thoughts.

“Sleep a little longer, child.”

X

The next time Jason woke up, he didn’t freak out. There was no point to panicking about confusing dreams, was there?

Instead, Jason settled on inspecting his surroundings. To his right, Jason could see a lot of medical equipment. Tubes and measuring of all kinds seemed to take up most of the space. On his left, curtains covered a window. The sound of birds and people running around shouting in Arabic reached his ears. Bruce had gotten him started on lessons and that language came to him much easier than the Russian had learned before it.

Jason had a lot of dreams that were just filled with him waking up somewhere he didn’t know. According to Barbara, they were a sign of wanderlust. It fitted that a kid from Crime Alley wanted to go out and see the world. It was rare though that his dreams were as lucid as they were now.

Curious, he threw off the blanket. Jason wanted out and explore the world around himself. Of all the things to hold him back, from terrifying monsters to whatever weirdness he could dream up, Jason didn’t expect bandaged wings.

His wings were enormous for his size, making him look ridiculous. He knew he’d grow into his wingspan, but a kid that was on the short end of the spectrum with bright red wings? Yeah, needless to say, he had heard the whispers (or shouts) at school and hadn’t been impressed. In between all the rich kids with their perfectly regular and average browns, grays and blacks, red wings stood out like nothing else. His wings weren’t any help on patrol either. Coloring them dark took ages. Bruce never had to color his already pitch-black wings, but Jason hadn’t been as fortunate. And trying to get the dye out again? Even worse. It took hours with water if Jason didn’t have the actual dye remover on hand.

As annoyed as Jason was with his wings though, he took good care of them, which was why the bandages were the first surprise.

Their size the second, and their color the third.

Jason didn’t have black wings as massive as the ones attached to his back. They kind of looked like the wings he’d always wanted to have, but most certainly wouldn’t get.

The door to his room opened. The person he saw step into it wasn’t someone he expected his subconsciousness to dream up.

“Talia?” Jason asked. “Huh, alright.”

Talia mustered him, her dark green wings pressed to her back like she expected someone to leap for them. Bruce did that too when he got too wary, or when he was dosed with Fear Gas. Jason had spent most of his childhood before he had been adopted with his wings close to his body.

You could tell a lot about people from the way they held them.

Then, Talia frowned and her expression shifted to worry and pity.

“Oh, Jason,” she said. She sounded kind. Motherly. “Don’t you remember?”

The Joker laughed. Time froze.

The world kept spinning.

Jason had died and the world had kept moving.

X

Training took ages. First, Jason had to regain muscle mass, then he had to learn how to adjust to his new wings.

And new wings they were indeed. Jason’s own had been too damaged and couldn’t be saved, so Talia had ensured Jason would receive a different pair. Wing transplantations had been done successfully only a handful of times, but access to a Lazarus Pit apparently made it a lot more manageable.

“Whose wings are they?” Jason asked only once.

“Yours,” Talia replied.

Jason stopped with his training exercises to observe her. “I meant before.”

She didn’t even bother to look away from her paperwork. The sheets were strange, covered in colors and neat lines.

“They belong to a strong man, and if not broken, they will always keep you in the sky. They’re yours.”

Jason didn’t speak up again.

X

Above him, the stars of the night sky were hidden away behind clouds while below him, the streets were mostly desolate. Jason adjusted his lenses, focused on his target. Then he jumped down from the building, unfurling his wings completely.

I look like him, Jason would think later when watching and deleting the security tapes. Crashing down on the disgusting excuse of a human being, Jason appeared as a vengeful terror of massive black wings.

Good.

X

“I need one of your feathers,” Talia said. “Preferably the biggest you have.”

Jason stopped polishing his guns to face her. “Why?”

“Because I asked you to, so?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just take whatever.”

He returned to his previous task, but sat op straight for better access, as Talia made her way around him. She mustered the feathers, softly moved her hands over them, before coming to a stop.

“This one,” she said and pulled at it so that Jason could feel which one she would take. “Brace yourself.”

Jason barely felt the pain. Truthfully speaking, he hardly got any kind of feedback from the wings. He could control them just fine, but the connection felt dulled.

“Thank you, Jason.”

“No problem,” he replied. “I’ll be leaving for Gotham tomorrow.”

“I know. I hope you’ll find what you seek there.”

Jason didn’t.

X

The new Robin was small and his wingspan frankly speaking pathetic. Barbara’s wings had been broken and her title had been taken by a small predator. There was another girl with bright wings she would have been better off with covering and Dick’s wings, of course, were obsessively clean and cared for as they had always been.

Bruce’s wings were smaller than he remembered. But then again, Jason wasn’t as short, young and naïve as he had been. Naturally, Batman wasn’t as grand as Jason had recalled.

As he had never been.

X

Talia asked him to come back and Jason refused. It would be too much like admitting defeat. Instead, he carved out his own territory, stayed away from the Bats. This was still his city and nothing short of death could make him leave, and even that hadn’t really stuck the last time.

X

It started with a call. One foolish, irritating call Jason hadn’t wanted to answer. He didn’t particularly hate the rest of the Bats anymore, and if they needed back up, he was there. Gotham wouldn’t suffer because of him or their incompetence.

Besides, it was Tim who had called.

Usually, Robin didn’t interact with him. Whether that was because Dick had told him off or because of their history, Jason didn’t know. He didn’t care either. He most certainly wasn’t curious why Tim had such a problem with Jason’s wings especially. Whenever he saw Jason, his eyes kept flickering to his wings and it didn’t annoy Jason at all.

Whatsoever.

Okay, maybe it did.

Jason had grown fond of his dark feathers. It wasn’t terribly hard when they were precisely what he had always wanted to have.

Either way, Tim calling, sounding seconds away from a panic attack and asking Jason to come to the Cave ASAP wasn’t something he was going to ignore out of anger.

What Jason expected to find was a crisis that would throw all of Gotham into disarrange.

Not a child with Talia’s green eyes and Bruce’s frown, waving a familiar feather in Bruce’s face while Tim sat at the other end of the Cave with Alfred by his side.

“What the hell?”

Bruce stood up straight, his cape concealing his wings.

“Jason,” Bruce said. If Bruce was surprised to see him, he didn’t show. “Did you know?”

Jason bit down on his rage. “Know what?”

“About Damian. Talia’s son.”

“And yours,” the child, Damian, added rather hot-headedly. His black wings twitched. “I have your feather as proof. Mother gave it to me.”

“This is not proof,” Tim hissed. “That’s just a stupid feather and Talia couldn’t have given you any of Bruce’s either way.”

“Stop talking to me, Drake. This is a conversation between father and son-“

“My name is Wayne, you damned brat-“

“Enough.”

Jason was getting a headache and if not for the fact that there was Talia’s son standing just a few meters away from him, he would have turned around on his heels and walked away again.

“Don’t antagonize each other.”

“But-“ Damian protested, only to stop talking when Bruce shot him a look.

“I don’t doubt that you are my son, but Tim is right. This feather isn’t mine.”

“But it looks like yours! I saw the photos of your wings. It’s the right color and shape, it even has the dark gray markings at the end. Mother said your wings were completely gray as a child and that’s the only leftover from it. Don’t call me a liar.”

Fighting crime was exhausting. You didn’t get much sleep, your body ached all over (except those times you were so full of pain killers, you couldn’t even tell when you got a new wound or if you were Jason and in general didn’t feel much of anything anymore) and every time you tried to fall asleep, either your nightmares or another gruesome murder would wake you up.

They all got tired, but Jason couldn’t think of a time Bruce had ever emitted such an aura of defeat.

“I’m not calling you liar, Damian. But the fact is that the feather can’t be mine. It cannot have been plucked from them.”

Damian’s face flushed in anger and desperation, perhaps. Your parents’ feathers, the ones they gave you willingly once you lost your last baby downs were something special. Jason had treasured Catherine’s, his real mother who had loved him until she couldn’t anymore, and Bruce’s like nothing else.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have wings anymore, Damian. I lost them a while ago when Bane took over Gotham.”

Jason felt like throwing up.

“Mother said Bane broke your spine and Lady Shiva trained you afterward to take back the city.”

They belong to a strong man, and if not broken, they will always keep you in the sky.

“That he did too.”

“But I saw your wings!”

“Fake. It would have been too suspicious if Bruce Wayne lost his wings at the same time as Batman.”

Jason liked to flare his wings when he left, make himself look bigger than he actually was, but right now he didn’t dare to move his no, no they weren’t they never them even an inch away from his body as he turned around and stormed outside.

Nobody would follow him.

They had bigger problems.

X

It wasn’t Bruce that tracked him down months later (because Bruce was dead, killed by a monster too big for grounded humans. Maybe, if he had been able to fly-) or Tim, who had disappeared with a bang to go on a never-ending search.

He had expected the little brat, coming to him for answers maybe, or Dick once he realized he wasn’t cut out for this Gotham anymore. Jason hardly knew the new Batgirl and he had never even spoken a word to Cassandra.

Somehow, despite her Big Brother-like presence, Jason had never accounted for Barbara.

“Your safe house isn’t very accessible,” she said and moved inside his apartment.

Of course, it wasn’t accessible. It was a cheap shithole in Crime Alley – what did she expect.

“What do you want?”

Jason used to adore Barbara. When he had first met her, she had been energetic and funny, told Batman off and thought Dick was an idiot. She had been bright and every ‘no’ was a challenge.

He couldn’t claim that he knew this version of her. She had calmed down, or maybe just grown as world-weary as the rest of them.

“We tried to find Bruce’s wings after Bane cut them off,” she said, going straight to business and delving right into Jason’s nightmares.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Barbara pushed up her glasses. “I think you need to.”

He could stop her if he wanted to. He doubted that any regular thugs could provide a challenge, her wheelchair didn’t look like standard either and he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that she had hidden all kinds of small gadgets in there. The edges of Barbara’s wings were covered in light steel like those of many police officers. A hit from those hurt immensely.

However, Jason had trained to take down the Batman (lifetimes ago it felt like) and Oracle, while undoubtedly smarter, couldn’t fight like him.

“He took them as a trophy and while Tim and Alfred rushed to Bruce’s aid, I kept my eyes on them. I lost them while they were in Gotham still. We assumed that Bane had hidden them, but perhaps had lost them as well instead.”

“I didn’t know.”

His defense sounded weak in his own ears. He had known that the wings sewn to his back hadn’t been the wings of the closest dead body Talia could find. Every action had meaning for her, every cruel gift well-meant wasn’t just efficient but a puzzle to solve.

He should have insisted. He should have kept asking.

“When I woke up, really as myself and not full of rage or catatonic, they were already there. Talia meant well, she only wanted to help.”

Barbara kept silent for a while, let her gaze drift to the blood on the ground, the guns on the table and the take-out food on the mattress. Jason hadn’t been handling things well in the last weeks.

“In winter,” she spoke up suddenly, “when Dick and I were young, Bruce used to cover us with his wings on observation missions because we, young and stupid, refused to put on the ugly winter uniforms. The two of us could fit right beneath one wing with still so much space left over.”

Jason remembered that. Bruce always covered Jason with his wings every time he felt like he had an excuse for it. There was no word to describe the warmth Jason had felt then.

“What do you want, Oracle?”

Barbara crossed her arms, still the perfect picture of resistance.

“I need you to come home and work with us. We’re missing three of our heavy hitters and Dick’s busy trying to reign in Damian half the time they’re on patrol. You feel ashamed of these wings? Then do something worthwhile with them. I need to be able to count on you and I need you to actually cover us. This city’s never been alright when even one of us is gone.”

Alright. Okay.

Jason could understand desperation. You didn’t claw your way out of your coffin simply because you felt like it. He could do this.

He had to.

[bucky-iss-bae]

Reminiscences - Peter Hale x OFC (Part 1)

Soo... my blog has been a bit dire at the moment, I do apologise, I need to post a few new one-shots and plan on cooking up another nice multiple part fic soon. 

Gonna be posting more soon hopefully, but for now, here’s my new Peter Hale fic, hope you guys enjoy it xoxo 

Fandom: Teen Wolf 

Pairing: Peter Hale x OFC (Calla) 

Word Count: 1303 

Warnings: None - Slow Start I guess 

Summary: Calla has grown up as Derek's best friend, she’s known the Hales her whole life,she’s known their secrets and everything in Beacon Hills. Things in Beacon Hills are quiet, the pack are a family, and Calla realises that Peter knows more of her secrets than she realises. 

A/N: Hope you all enjoy, any feedback is welcome x

Masterlist Fandom List

Reminiscences - Part 1 

I had no idea what I was doing here in all honesty, the only reason I turned up to these pack gatherings or meetings were just so everyone was on the same page, making sure no one knew of anything or anyone that was around, more specifically anything because this place has an attraction to all the supernatural out there, and not everything is as friendly as those who are around me. Well some of them. Others, maybe not as much, for other reasons than being the big bad of beacon hills.

Everyone was sat basically together, and I must say, Scott took on the role as an Alpha as smoothly as an 18 year old could. From what I’ve seen in my past, being an Alpha is not easy, watching as my best friend’s mother was the Alpha of her pack, a very successful pack at that until murderers got involved, she worked hard in order to gain alliances alongside other creatures of the night, as well as other hunters if possible.

But Scott learnt a lot from Derek, he learnt from the mistakes Derek made, and the truth behind the power, he learnt from Deaton. Someone who knew probably the most secrets Talia held. And then he created his own knowledge alongside his best friend Stiles Stilinski. And watching them with the future generation of protectors, reminded me of when I was younger, watching as similar scenes in front of me took place but a different generation of people.

But being a human came at its advantages and disadvantages. Being childhood best friends with Derek, and actually staying in Beacon Hills overtime gave me the opportunity to learn and protect myself to an extent. Not completely, obviously. But it meant I could get away with learning a lot more without my scent being caught on as a supernatural, as well as helping the town when there was an unsolved animal attack. Or something along those lines.

Now there’s these guys to do all of that, I just sit aside, make sure I’m there for them when they need it, and other than that carry on with my life. I mean there are times when I have to fill them in on things that unknowingly happened during Derek’s time away, and well before everyone else was turned. And if anything is about to happen, I always want to know, and make sure whatever is happening keeps everyone safe. But other than that, I guess I could be the normal one around.

“You good Calla?” Derek asked coming to sit beside me.

I nodded turning my head towards him, “Tired from work. As per usual, you good?”

He carelessly shrugged but sat back against the couch with me. Everyone else was scattered around the room, eating, talking, laughing. It was nice, nice knowing this is as close to a good family I’ll probably ever get. And I love each and every one of them for it.  

“How’s work going? Although I still don’t see the reason why you need to work”

“Work is good Der. I get good money, it keeps me occupied, and this way I’m not relying on my inheritance, that’s out the way, only there when I need it”

“But you’re always tired from work think about that” He pointed out.

I nodded, “Yeah, because I work hard. But at least I only work four days a week, I have three days to rest although they don’t usually go towards resting, instead...” I said looking around  

“Instead its helping the kids” He looked at me with a small smirk and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Fucks sake Derek. You’re a loser you know that right. And one of these days I’m going to go home after work, order myself a pizza and not talk to anyone, you bet I’ll put my phone on do not Disturb”

“You do that at least once a week anyway. You literally text me saying ‘either join me or ignore me’.”

“Yet you always ignore me Der. I’m heartbroken”

He grinned, “Figured you need time to yourself considering most your free time is taken up with me”

“Derek, I literally went years without seeing you, but as soon as you got back we fell into things again, so let’s so trust me when I say, you’ll know when I get sick of you”

He grinned, “That mean next pizza night pizza is on me?”

“Thursday nights, and you know it”

“You two setting up your next date?” Peter drawled as he came to sit in between us causing me to put my feet down and for Derek to change his position slightly.

Peter Hale. A guy I knew growing up, although back then he was more like one of Derek’s brothers rather than an uncle, now so much had changed. Since the fire, since those years spent in hospital so much changed.

The worst thing is, I knew no one was there for him when he was in hospital, all his family had died and he was burned alive, and considering I was the only one who knew Peter as Peter Hale, the guy who used to love basketball, or be an absolute douche bag, I visited him, every week. I knew he wouldn’t respond but that didn’t stop me from talking to him, telling him about my life, what was new, what wasn’t.

And still to this day, I haven’t bought it up, nor has he, so for that I’m hoping he doesn’t remember. The only time I thought he might’ve was when he was a murderous, psychotic Alpha, I was in the line of fire, he had an opportunity to kill me, but although I didn’t know at the time, it’s more like he recognized me, saw me, and spared me. And it didn’t help I went to complain to him and have a heart to heart with him the following day, about the big bad alpha. Not Peter himself.

“Something like that” I said to Peter, “Why, you jealous”

“Should I be?”

“You tell me Peter you’re the one who’s so curious over something that’s not happening, nor none of your business”

He just shook his head a small smirk on his lips, “You two never change, do you?”

“Could say that same about you” I said back to him.

He shrugged, “No, considering I was sat in a hospital room for 5 years. There’s not much that can change about a person” He had a look in his eye. Something he often done, like he was trying to tell me something but I ignored it instead. I rather not play his games. Because despite how close I got to him over the years, and despite what our friendship was like before... it won’t be the same. He’s different. He has ulterior motives or so I believe he does.

“Do you even remember those years?” I blurted out. Probably out of frustration. But I sure as hell hope not.

I mentally cursed myself as soon as I said that, but his smirk told me everything I needed to know.

“Right... well I’m going to get going now. Derek I’ll see you later” I said to him trying to avoid a conversation I didn’t want to have.

He rose his eyebrows but nodded and got up with me. “anyone need a lift home?” I asked all the kids. Completely ignoring Peters gaze hitting my head.

“I do actually” He said from behind me.

I rolled my eyes, “You have your own car. A lot more expensive than anyone else’s as you keep reminding everyone.” I said to him, a few seconds later Liam asked if I could drop him off which I happily obliged to. The kid is basically my little brother.

Peter Hale x OFC - Reminiscences Part 2 

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed xoxo 

[disgrays-on]

for whatever we lose

Word Count: 2.0k Pairing: Older!Damian Wayne // Fem!Reader

A/N: I have to really state that he’s much older here for obvious reasons. This is my take on what I feel has probably been done before. I didn’t enjoy this as much as I thought I would, so I cut it off where I did because it was starting to get long and draggy. However, I still do hope you enjoy, nonetheless!

When you find out that Damian Wayne is gone, you do not cry. Instead, you are numb. Your fingernails dig into your palms but you’ve stopped feeling anything ever since Dick told you, as gently as he could, his voice cracking and his eyes red. You do not wail, nor do you sob.

Outside, Gotham is burning but you can’t find it in yourself to care. She has taken your husband, the father of your child, away from you and you do not wish to care.

You do not rage. You do not threaten, nor do you curse the cruel twist of fate for taking him away from you, again. Instead, you stand with head held up high and lips pressed tight as you silently watch the rest of his family break. Even with the stinging behind your eyes, or the constricting of your throat. Even with the thought of the child you were carrying growing up without a father. You would not let yourself fall.

Good, you think, Let Gotham burn.

There is a morbid acceptance that comes with the words. Deep down, you had always known that the life that your husband has led from his childhood, the same one he continued to lead up to his adulthood, would end just like this. With the inevitable, ultimate heartbreak - the unbearable, restrained grief that came with the heart-wrenching loss and then the sober and private mourning. You do not wish to give whatever twisted destiny out there the satisfaction from your breaking.

But when Gotham falls, you run.

The place you leave for is bright and sunny. The blue skies are always clear, and it’s always warm, always perfect. Getting away had made sense as the next course of action because you needed it. You needed to get away from his family, away from the memories of him, away from everything that had anything to do with him. It tears at you sometimes, the fact that you had ran in the face of havoc and chaos, away from the people who you had grown to call family. But then you remember that this was the same family that had pushed you to this, and the guilt dissipates.

He’s gone and the only thing you would allow yourself to focus on was the baby you were carrying. His kid, your brain supplies, but the thought of him still hurts you like nothing else ever would.

You’re well into your second trimester before his family reaches out to you. You had expected a visit much earlier because it wasn’t exactly as if you had been trying to hide but you can appreciate the fact that they’ve given you space. Dick comes to you first with the kind smile that you’ve always known him for, bright even as your eyes blurred and fingers clenched around the doorknob. He gives you a hug, carefully navigating around the bump and when you pull back, you can just about see the gloss in his eyes. You return to a newly revived Gotham the next day, clutching at the arm Dick offers to you in silent solidarity.

The manor did not change in your absence but it’s still home. It’s been home for so long that you’re not sure that you can see it as anything but home. His family - you suppose they were your family too now - has not given up on your husband. There had been no body, no legitimate evidence of his death, not one speck of his blood anywhere. You didn’t think death would be so cruel (nor would it be so kind) as to take him and then return him back to you a second time. You don’t have the will to tell them to stop, to just let him rest and let him go, because it isn’t exactly like you’ve done that either. And while you are grateful that he had such a steadfast family, you wouldn’t allow yourself to be deluded by unattainable fantasies.

In the aftermath of everything that happened, they hold a funeral for him. It’s small with family and close friends only, but there are still too many people and you find yourself struggling to breathe. The emotions finally hit you like a tonne of bricks, crushing you under their weight, realisation finally sinking in. This was why you had run. Because now you really had to face the consequences. Now, it really feels like you’ve lost him. You don’t know how long you stand there, politely smiling and thanking everyone who offers you their condolences, but the only way you’ve been grounding yourself is by pressing your palm gently over your belly and feeling the little movements your baby makes from time to time. You can already hear the headlines.

All of Damian’s friends, the comrades he’s gained over the years, the people whose lives he’s touched just by being the same old lovable man, are present. You don’t know if this is how it goes whenever one in the hero community passes but there are more people here than you imagined there would be. It makes you feel better, feel just a bit happy that all of these people cherished Damian as much as you did.

The months go by and now, you’re uncomfortable almost all the time.

His family takes care of you in his stead. They’re not him but it’s nice to be close to someone who could relate to what you were feeling, if not more. You find yourself in the company of Dick a lot more. He’s always been dear to Damian - they were close and the love they had for each other was clear for everyone to see. You sit with him, reminiscing all the good memories and swapping tales of your husband. You have fun reading to both your baby and Cass who tucks herself into your side. Steph helps you sneak out of the manor in the most ridiculous manners she can come up with just so you could eat the disgustingly greasy fast food you had been craving for. Jason makes you food, and the both of you find comfort in cooking together. Tim is a steady presence when you feel just a bit too lonely. Titus lays at your feet when you get too emotional over a scene during a movie binge session. Sometimes, his closest friends drop by and you catch up.

His biological parents take similar approaches with you. Talia sits you down and makes you tea, right after she’s stolen you from when you were distracted and alone. She remains quiet and sips her tea as her eyes remained trained on you, silently urging you to drink yours. While you hadn’t really reached out to her, it is no surprise to you that she knows. She sends you off at the end of the day after you’ve shown her the pictures from your ultrasounds, with a small but satisfied smile. Bruce seems no different, if only just a bit more touchy and withdrawn, both of which was understandable. The fact that he stays this way horrifies you slightly because that would mean that he’s always been this way, always been so broken and hurt. But still, he treats you kindly, supports you in the way he does. He accompanies you in the comfortable silence of the kitchen while you take small mouthfuls of your drink. The sun is barely up in the sky but you find yourself unable to sleep because your body is tired and sore and missing your husband.

The baby was as much his as it was yours so you understand their need to be close to you. As the months go by, it doesn’t hurt so much to laugh and smile anymore.

The child, your child, your perfect little baby boy arrives early in the morning, all pink and loud as he cries while the sun begins to rise outside. Your family is around you with tears and smiles as you welcome your child to the world with a watery laugh and tears of your own. He is beautiful and the parts of you that have been broken in the time that you have lost your husband slowly mends itself with the birth of your son.

He grows to be an incredibly charming toddler. He reminds you of your husband sometimes and while thinking of him still leaves a slightly bitter taste in your mouth, your son also gives you the most joy you’ve ever felt. He wrinkles his tiny nose when he gets angry, blowing bubbles and gurgling defiantly. His giggles are as sweet as a cool breeze on a warm day, and whenever he smiles, the people around him fall in love with him even more. Bruce sits with him in his study and talks to him in low murmurs. Talia casually appears every once in a while, she acts pleasantly, coos over your son and your family makes sure that the two of you are not alone with her when she does. His aunts and uncles take turns looking over him, some more excitedly than others.

Your son is rarely ever far from you, not when you can help it. When you’re busy, he’s usually in the care of one of the many available babysitters or tucked into a baby seat but when you aren’t, he’s always tucked in your arm, or hoisted up onto your waist and playing with the strands of your hair that he can reach. He has the sweetest smiles, and your heart flutters whenever he directs one to you. It’s been more than a year since you received news of your husband, but you still tell stories about him to your son whenever you can. You take his giggles and high pitched laughter as his way of contributing. You can’t help but laugh along with him, tapping his nose whenever he gets too adorable for you.

One morning finds him missing from his crib, and your heart almost stops. The panic sets in but before you can even react, the sound of his cute little giggles calls you to your husband’s study, a room that you haven’t had the courage to step foot into since forever. Thousands of thoughts race through your head as you make your way to the room, the anxiety and guilt weighing you down, and almost none of the scenarios end all too pleasantly. You had let this happen, had let someone come into your home, had let him take your child. When you push the door open, the sight that greets you stops you in your tracks.

A man sits in one of the armchairs that your husband used to frequent and you have to clench your teeth to rein your anger. You almost fail when you realise where your baby is. Your son is sitting on the lap of this man, babbling as his pudgy little fingers reached up to pat the man’s cheek just a bit too harshly. The man doesn’t react, doesn’t flinch. Instead, he chuckles, a deep timbre that sounds so awfully familiar. The hope that bubbles in your chest vanish as easily as it had come because there was no possible way for it to be true. While you didn’t think there would ever be a moment in time when you would be over him, the fact was that your husband was gone.

Your baby is still talking excitedly to himself, bouncing slightly in the man’s lap with eagerness, still blissfully unaware of the potential danger that he was in. You’re moving to snatch your son away, to get him away from the man, even before you realise it. If he got hurt because of you, you would never forgive yourself.

But when you get a good look at the man, time stops.

You know this man.

There was nothing that would ever, could ever erase him from your mind.

“Damian?” You gasped, all the emotions rushing back and crashing down over you. Your stomach twists when he looks up to move his attention from your son to you, with the same face you’ve been missing and the lips that you’ve been craving, and smiles.

[snowflakebyyou]

the past. (names have been changed)

I thought I would write up a little blurb of every boy or man in my life that has affected the way I date or look at love, in one way or another, big or small.  A virtual diary . Whether it be a random hook up or my only relationship. They’re in here if they made enough of a mark to stay with me.

First, we have Jack! My first childhood crush that lasted all through primary school. I was a little over obsessed with this boy, for years too, and everyone knew. In year 6 my best friend started ‘going out’ with him. Not that at the age of 11 it means anything but wow did I hate them BOTH! I swear from that, I held onto whatever anger it brought out in me. And through high school it was the biggest betrayal if my friend went after or got with the guy I liked or had been with. Now I know things change and so do people because I have been guilty of doing this to some friends. But something so little in my childhood affected me because I ignored it instead of dealt with the feelings it caused me to have. And from here my trust issues formed!!!! Love that for me.

My HS group had boys join in and we kind of became a family- that kissed, so inbred. I had Kai in my maths class, and John in my English. I’ll tell the John story in enough detail to understand but not all of it because I’ll write a novel. I’ll add Liam into the John story because they kind of overlap.

John.. We had English together and he was really good at it. I didn’t really ever look at him as more than a friend for a while. We had group gatherings and mutual friends but that was it. He was close with my friend Layla, and told her he liked me, and loved that I didn’t give a shit what anybody thought (which will be one of the reasons he ends up resenting me). I of course loved this information, but still feeling awkward didn’t really know what to do with it. We kind of had a few catch ups outside of school, we had a Valentines’ day together, where he bought me my favourite chocolate, lollies, a candle, a flower and drew me a picture of donkey from Shrek (at the time I had told him I loved donkey). An extremely thoughtful gesture and of course I didn’t know how to act- so I gave him an awkward hug and that was that. All this time Kai had a crush on me but I was unaware. Things with John never became anything really – I can’t really remember why but I think I felt too uncomfortable and didn’t understand my feelings, and I hurt him. Then Liam came along. Liam was a bit older than me, that I had always thought was a cutie. We started hanging out and I thought he had this ‘bad boy’ vibe to him, so I put the thought of John in the back of my mind, and moved on.

Liam was so sweet to me always; I loved his family and we got on really well. The problem was for me, was I was still young, and not ready for things that he needed me to be ready for. This caused a lot of problems for us while we were together.  Along with me just being a horrible bitch to him even though he tried his best to make me happy always. I deep down knew I wasn’t ready for the relationship that Liam was ready for, and the entire time I still had no closure on my feelings with John, it was a recipe for disaster. While I was still with Liam, we were at a party with all my friends- including John. My friend Talia and John got with each other and I got upset, which I shouldn’t have because I HAD A BOYFRIEND! Worst person ever I know. Anyway, because I was upset by it, the next day Liam broke down and was really emotional questioning me if I liked John, I got defensive and shut it down immediately, even though I knew the truth. i couldn’t explain it, but I replayed the night he kissed Talia, over and over and it just broke my heart, but why?. ANYWAY. Liam and I were officially together for about 4 months, unofficially about 6? I broke up with him in March 2015 (for timeline context). About 2 weeks later----- John and I were at a beach party and he said “ What would you do if I kissed you right now”, and I was like “lol I’d punch you” , and he said “you’d better get ya fist ready”, BUTTERFLIESSSS AM I RIGHT!? So yeah, we kissed and it was really cute and yeah. From then on, I went back to being confused about my feelings, I knew I liked him, and liked him a lot, but something was holding me back. I was a super insecure high school girl then and was unsure of everything. It was hard but it kind of went back and forth until things just stopped working and we ended up resenting each other. And after he left school it was just different. We got with each other here and there but that was it. Then the next year, as I love to be toxic. I convinced John to go for Talia again, I assured him I wouldn’t care and pretty much forced him, (this was at his house while we made each other dinner). We got to a friend’s party and let’s just say shit got fucked from there – he took Talia for a “walk” and they got together. I was so angry, I was upset, I cried and broke a light??? So of course, I knew Kai liked me, and I had a bit of a crush at this stage but nothing compared to how I felt for John, just an attraction lets say. Anyway, we went ‘looking for them’, and ended up getting with each other, and I know I did it to get at John, and from then on, we almost became rivals. I hated him and Talia together, but they just kept at it, as they were more than entitled to do, I just didn’t like it. John did check in with me but I always said I didn’t care, then I’d cry myself to sleep. It was so toxic and hard and just way too much.

For context they got with each other in May 2016. Then came formal. Talia asked John – NOW back when we used to talk, John and I said, if we’re both single for year 12 formal, that he will be my date. So that was uncomfortable for me and I felt SO shit about it, that I asked a random friend from another school, Blake, so I wouldn’t have to go alone. I hated seeing them together, because I so badly wanted to be with him.... even better I knew we had a trip planned at the end of the year together.

LETS SKIP TO THIS TRIP BEING THE WORST TIME OF MY LIFE and I’ll only tell the bit that matters, and it’s that Talia lost her virginity to John just before schoolies, yet NO ONE told me, so we all stayed in the same villa and everyone knew but me- UNTIL WE PLAYED NEVER HAVE I EVER so I found out in front of every one of our friend’s at schoolies and I KICKED OFF. like I literally felt every ounce of my body go numb, my heart SHATTEREDDDDD.I cried and yelled I was so hurt and I couldn’t understand how I felt I was fucked. It was like the air around me got thin and my chest was caving in. I felt this horrible burning feeling in my stomach and I honestly just wanted to die. I don’t think I’ve felt like that since, and honestly I just wanted to bury myself in the sand. The next day I made up with Talia for the sake of the trip but afterwards it took me years to forgive her, and even to this day I find it hard to be friends with her. John asked how I felt about it, about HIM AND HER HAVING SEX?! Like yeah dude I’m so stoked about it well done!!? Dumbass.

So that’s the John and Liam story, John and I had a history and we now don’t know each other, Liam and I are actually good friends still and I’m close with his sisters. That shit fucked me up so bad sometimes I think about it and am so proud that I got over that part of my life because that was harddddd. I learnt that my actions affect more than just me, I learnt to be alone isn’t the worst thing. I learnt how hard relationships are when you’re not 100% in it. I learnt I need to consider other people’s feelings as well as my own, and to be open about them. Its 2020 now and I’ve only just scratched the surface of understanding how to communicate my feelings properly. But it started here. I really learnt what it felt like to be heartbroken and to feel like I’ll never get over something. And I know now that I can.

NOW Kai- touched base in the John paragraph about Kai so let’s just say we hooked up a few times, and he’s definitely on my Top 3 best kisses, the French know how to kiss. But it was toxic the next couple years after we left school it was a random hook-up and he got a bit full of himself so I didn’t like who he became and he hated me too, he was such a honey in school. SO that’s Kai, not gonna lie would def still get with him but not fussed if not. I just learnt not to trust someone will always be who you first met and that’s ok.

Mali! A friend from mid high school who I got with during all my messes. Then we continued to get with each other for a few years. TOXIC Was the best word for us. We both liked each other (I think) but always seemed me more than him. It went back and forth for years, sometimes we wouldn’t talk for months then get back to getting with each other again. The last time we got with each other, we hadn’t talked for at least 6 months! I was out with Lilli and he saw me and I think I ignored him; so, he came up to talk and it ended with me choking up about to cry so he suggested we leave the club and talk outside. From there we basically fought for two hours straight in the middle of Manly corso with Lilli and his friend standing there watching. We went back and forth and he told me he had missed me since we hadn’t talked, which I thought wtf random for him to say. ANYWAY, stupid Aria, he ended up back at mine, and we got with each other, cuddled for a bit then he went home. It was really nice tbh and my favourite thing about Mali was that I was comfortable with him and I knew he wouldn’t take advantage of me. The next day when he texted me, it ended the same way it always did, he didn’t want anything more and I couldn’t handle it. I especially couldn’t handle rejection because I thought we’d always like each other. So that was another fight which then eventually turned into a huge break and decided it was way better to be friends. And now we are so all is chill. From him I learnt a lot about myself, a lot about my trust issues. I learnt that I can be comfortable around a guy and that someone else will eventually be that for me, in a better and more loving way, I just have to be patient.

Now, Taj. I’m missing some people along the way but as I said I’m going through people who affected me enough for my memory to hold onto them. So, Taj is a friend of a friend. And to start with I didn’t look at him twice, thought he was a typical rich kid with too much money and I didn’t really give a shit about him. We got with each other at this party and I don’t even know why because I wasn’t into him at all, but the guy I wanted to get with wasn’t interested and Taj was so drunk he seemed desperate so it was easy. WORST MISTAKE EVER. From then he messaged me and I slowly fell into the TAJ trap. He made it seem he was interested in hanging out and even asked me on multiple occasions to catch up with him- yet he never followed through. And because I was super trusting when it came to toxic boys, I went all in. I thought he really liked me and I fell damn hard. Because we were getting with each other at pretty much every party we saw each other at. I did actually ask him to year 12 formal and he declined hence why I asked Blake.  So anyway, there was one night at a friend’s place, cut a long story short- he asked me out and I just kept saying you don’t mean it and never really said yes. He announced it to the party and promised my sister he wouldn’t hurt me. But that’s exactly what he did. The next day he called me and basically took back everything, including the part where he liked me and asking me out. The pain I felt in this moment was similar to when I found out about John and Talia. I really felt sick and I cried myself to sleep for weeks. My friend came and picked me up that day and took me out, and kept me busy, thank god for her. I felt so stupid and let down. It took me years, and I mean YEARS to get over him. And I always found it hard to see him out and he was always around. Until eventually I just accepted it and I started to work on myself and things were good. He’s had girlfriends since it all and we became friends, because I realised my worth. I genuinely felt sad for the kid when he got dumped, and it was after that I realised I was good, and it was such a perfect moment. End of the day, I’ll always have a soft spot for him and I like to think he felt the same, I can’t speak on anyone else’s behalf.  I learnt actions speak louder than words. I learnt that I am too good to be dismissed and that I deserve more than empty words and games. I learnt no matter if someone is your friend, if they haven’t healed from their damage, it will always come out and if I get to close, then regardless I get hurt, because no person changes if they can’t see the problems they need to fix.

Trouble (Taylor). This is a dude I met on a holiday ages ago. I guess we flirted a bit but he was 11 years older than me and I was like ahh better not. He gave me and Lilli the nickname “Trouble”, and it kind of stuck. Anyway, like a month after the holiday I literally saw him in a club and we started  talking for a bit, and he goes” I just don’t know what to do with you”, so of course I fuckiin kissed him, and fuck me dead, best kiss ever. Like dayum it was so hot and steamy like I couldn’t deal. We talked for AGES after that, we always missed each other when we were out, and then I got this super weird vibe that he wasn’t single, and every time I asked, he avoided the question or made a joke about it. Eventually we just stopped talking but it was a wild time and he was the oldest guy I’ve ever got with. I’d say he affected the way I look at relationships because I’m convinced, he was in one, and it made me a bit weary of men and shattered my trust a bit more. I did message the girl I thought was the girlfriend, whether it was or not I don’t know, I never heard back.

Blake! good looking  friend turned formal date! He was also the boy I lost my virginity to in Bali, he was really nice about it, and took his time and besides the dingey hotel, I got pretty lucky with my first time. It hurt like HELL but he was understanding and made sure I was ok and it was good. We talked a bit afterward but not long after he got a girlfriend and I haven’t seen or heard from him since. It is what it is and I don’t regret it. This affected me with sex because I always think who I sleep with is going to leave. I felt used after sleeping with the two next people and I felt disgusting after both. I’m learning now to only give myself to people I feel deserve it and who care about me, and have no shame in saying that I only want to sleep with men who mean something to me.

We also have Beau, my friend’s brother who. Doesn’t get a huge say, it was fun while it lasted but he was too addicted to the party lifestyle for me to ever be exclusive or serious or anything with him. Although I do hate that he has a girlfriend now that he changed his lifestyle for, which I never wanted I just wanted him to stop with the drugs; so it’s hard seeing someone you liked do what you wanted for someone else; just proves it was definitely not meant to be anything. I learnt from him that if someone wants to be with you, and wants to evolve with you, they will. It’s just whether or not they want to grow for your relationship.

I have slept with two other boys in my past who won’t be named because they are the 2 things, I regret most in my life and shut out that part of it. But I’m writing this bit about them because I have grown to respect my body more and it makes me think better about men and sex. They are both mere blobs of a person and I’m glad I never have to see them again.

Anyway, yuck to those two.

I met a guy called Jeremy who is like 7 years older than me. We kissed the night we met, then went on a date. I read into it wrong and got really upset. Although in a turn of events we actually became great friends. I still was shitty that it didn’t work out because I wanted to sleep with him. He’s like a men’s mental health coach but also super into his sexuality so I was ALWAYS intrigued. Now I could never think of that but at the time I was still learning a lot. I learnt a lot from him about the way you speak to people, and to myself, he even started me on my self-love journey so it was definitely the universe who brought us together, even though it was just as friends in the end, I’m more than happy with that!!! As I said I learnt about self-love, being ok with being alone and understanding my body and sexuality, and learnt that its ok to not have all the answers all the time.

For now, that’s all the dudes in my life that have affected me in one way or another. Good mostly but for the better yes. I’ve grown in such a way over the last year, and I’m so happy I have started to put more thought in how I act and speak and treat people. Life’s too short to hate yourself and others. So now I’m kinder to myself and other people, and try harder to understand their perspective and respect their choices.

L xox

[il-scarvves]

SELF PARA ;     UNDER YOUR SKIN

(trigger warning for mentions of Isaac’s fucked up childhood)

It had been weeks since the incident at the train depot. He had healed now -- there is still an ache here and there in his ribs, but his black eye is long gone, along with the rest of his bruises. It isn’t as much of a blessing as one would think though. With the wounds gone, it's only a matter of time before Bastien returns. He knew he couldn’t manage to escape a second time.

Isaac is standing outside, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he checks his phone. He’s ordered take-out but arrived before it was ready and, with how busy the restaurant was, chosen to stand outside. He is reading some news article about a woman that stole shoes from the Salvation Army when an all-too-familiar scent fills his nose. His head jerks up, blue eyes wide as he spots Bastien standing across the street.

Bastien is a bulky man -- taller than even Isaac was, with a square jaw, blond hair, and enough muscles to make you think twice. Frankly, if you asked Isaac, he looks like a douchebag... and he definitely is one. At that moment, though, appearances are Isaac’s last concern. 

Bastien tilts his head to the side and cocks his brow. Isaac understands the message though the last thing he wants is to follow. He sees a glimpse of red-hair out of his peripheral and knows it’s Carmen. To the other side, he recognizes Frederic, another one of the pack. Isaac is trapped with only one option. Follow the alpha. Talk. 

Slowly pulling the cigarette from his lips, he drops it onto the sidewalk and stomps it out. He slips his phone into his pocket and swallows. Tilting his head up, he crosses the street, his eyes never leaving the alpha.

A small grin spreads of Bastien’s lips and as soon as Isaac is on his side of the street, the man wraps an arm around his shoulders. Isaac glares -- no doubt the alpha sees it but he seemingly chooses to ignore it. Bastien leads Isaac away from the street and down an alley. His shoes feel like their filled with lead, and every step is heavy. Bastien opens a side-door and pushes Isaac in. It’s a small hallway with peeling paint and water damage; the stairs that lead upwards look about as safe as this situation. Isaac takes them slowly though, when Bastien nods towards him. The alpha is behind him. There is no escape.

At the fourth floor, Bastien stops Isaac and drags him towards one of the other nondescript door. There’s a sticker with the number ‘34′ on it. Inside the apartment, it looks no better. This is the sort of place you’d see the unsavory characters in a movie staying in. Well, Bastien and his pack kind of fall into that category, don’t they?

“Sit?” Bastien asks, and Isaac shakes his head. The alpha rolls his eyes and goes into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge. It doesn’t surprise Isaac that they don’t trust the tap in this apartment. Isaac wouldn’t either. He returns the living room, chugging the water. Isaac stands ram-rod straight, eight feet away. 

“Your apartment is much nicer, is it not?” Bastien starts. It’s not a question, not really, and Isaac doesn’t answer. “Zough you’ve stayed worse places, from what I can tell. Zat train depot, some house wiz hunters, and a place down on Walnut. Ze hunter’s house looks nice but ze company seems less zan stellar.”

Dread pushes at his rib cage, squeezing his heart. Bastien’s been casing the places that Isaac’s lived, at least since he’s been back from France. He hates the idea that he might’ve stopped by the McCall’s or Derek’s or even his father’s home. Bastien doesn’t mention those as he moves on.

“Got a nice little crew here too. Ze hunters -- you’re going to have to explain zose ones to me -- a banzhee, a few humans, zat Talia girl... How is Talia, by ze way?”

Rage. A spark of rage catches fire at the mention of Talia. His hands ball into fists at his side but he says nothing, still as silent as the dead. 

“An interesting little town you have here, all in all. It is not nearly as nice as home but, for suburbia, it is not too bad. I’ll still be glad when we can go home.”

“Then go.”

Bastien looks amused as Isaac breaks his silence. He takes a sip of his water before shaking his head. “Not wizout what we came for. I’m not keen on losing what is mine and you, dear Isaac, are mine.”

“I’m not, I never have been, and you can fuck off.” He is burning with rage at the audacity of Bastien. It doesn’t surprise him -- he met the man in France, saw his cruelty and arrogance in the harsh light of day -- and wanted nothing to do with it. But, unfortunately for him, Bastien didn’t see as clearly. He saw Isaac as a little omega, alone in a foreign city he considered his, and decided he was pack. Isaac was never consulted.

Bastien’s jaw clenches. He sets the water bottle and starts striding towards Isaac. Isaac takes a step back but he hits the door and Bastien is on him. Hands wrap around his neck, claws digging into his skin. His pulse skyrockets. Bastien stares into his eyes, searching for something as Isaac unsuccessfully tries to push the hand off. 

“You will no bend, will you?” the alpha growls. “I must break you. And not physically, no, you are immune to that it seems.” A cruel grin spreads across his lips. “I will you break your mind and zen you will be mine.

Isaac is thrown to the ground; Bastien looms over him, tall and intimidating. The beta does his best to get his way but Bastien grabs his leg and pulls him back, turning him onto his stomach. Horror grips his belly. Oh God, what is he going to do? Isaac feels a knee in his back, claws scraping his neck, and then pain.

Thousands of images flash through his head. They consume his vision, consume him. He feels agony and ecstasy, terror and fury, abandoned and numb. Bastien drags out every memory and leaves them upturned, like trash on the floor. He tears open mental wounds, leaving them gaping and raw. He sees memories of Isaac’s mother, of her sickness and hysteria. He sees the last memory Isaac has of her, of when she smiled so sweetly and asked him if he wanted to take a nap with her -- a nap that Eleanor Lahey would never awake from. He sees her funeral. He sees the day Cam told him he was leaving for the military and the day soldier’s showed up on their doorstep. He sees another funeral. He sees the times his father got drunk, the times he hit him, the times he locked him in the freezer. He sees when Isaac found his father’s corpse, torn to shreds. He doesn’t see another funeral, not this time, because he sees Isaac hiding from the cops who believed he killed his father. He didn’t. He sees the kanima, Gerard, the alpha pack, Erica’s corpse and then Boyd’s. He sees when Isaac first fell in love and he also sees when that girl dies in the arm’s of her first love -- Scott, not Isaac. He sees it all. 

The claws retract but the images still linger in his vision. He can just make out Bastien’s cruel smirk before darkness overtakes him.

OOC; Okay. Phew. If I write a self-para, I’m gonna write a novel evidently.

Anyway, for those who aren’t aware, this is in relation to the current plot I have for Isaac. Basically there was this pack back in Paris, led by this cruel alpha named Bastien, that told Isaac to basically join or gtfo. Since Isaac didn’t do the latter (like they don’t? own? Paris?), they took it as Isaac joining them. Which... nah. This pack is violent with a cruel alpha and a frankly cult like quality to it. Neither no or non (or net or o’hi) were words in their dictionary. They were a factor though not the driving one in Isaac’s return to Beacon Hills. And they’ve followed him here.

The effects of this will be big on Isaac. Isaac’s has had demonstrably good control since his second full moon and really never struggled with that. That’s going to change. There will be times where there’s nothing but the blood-thirsty wolf. He’s also going to start questioning his own memories at time, remembering things wrong. Just... Things aren’t going to be good for him. 

Anyways, I’m also back from hiatus! I have a migraine currently so I’ll get to replies in a bit but you should message me for plotting -- for Isaac, for Liodes, and for Lillian. 

[followmetoyourdoom]

The Kingdom Diaries

A little look into each of the royal families as they are in Helpless. Each little 'snapshot' takes place at a different moment in time, hopefully it's more or less clear how old each of the main characters are in each.

Read it on ao3 or below:

Ephedia

"Very good, now do it again."

Iris nodded and went through the routine again, carefully directing her attacks and letting her magic flow. At age ten, she was getting better and better every day, her mother giving her new spells to practise and perfect. However, things weren't always as perfect as they seemed; and sometimes, they were far from it.

Her shanila had already flown by, but with it, it had brought a nervous instability to the core of Iris' magic, its power too great for her tiny body to hold.

Sometimes she was volatile even, magic almost leaking out of her without meaning to.

Her parents, understandably concerned, were doing everything they could to teach her how to control this power, how to manipulate it to do her bidding. They refused to acknowledge they were the cause of this excess magic, refused to remember the spells they had uttered at the time of her conception in order to produce a powerful heir.

No. They would find a way to put all that behind them. Iris would learn and, eventually, she would rule Ephedia just as her mother had, keeping her people in line.

All she needed was a push in the right direction, to learn self-discipline and keep her true power hidden deep down inside herself, until such a time arrived when she would need to use it against those who would do her wrong.

There was no other option.

Jericho slipped into the practise room. "How's she doing?" he stage whispered.

"No accidents yet," Xiphi whispered back, not taking her eyes off her daughter. "After this round I think it's time she took a br-"

There was a loud crash as the crystal lights in the room exploded and Iris screamed, covering her head.

"Break," Jericho finished for his wife as she sighed.

Xiphi walked over to Iris and gently pulled her hands away from her face, hugging her tightly. "It's okay," she assured her daughter, "it's time you had a rest anyway." She pulled back to look her in the eyes. "Do you want to go see the gardens?"

Iris nodded slowly and Xiphi shot Jericho a look. Something had to be done about this. If Iris wasn't able to learn how to control her power, there was no way she could become Queen.

They needed a plan B.

Xeris

Down by the sea front, perched upon a rock, Talia sat swing her legs in the water, humming happily and giggling as the fish swam around her toes, sucking on them as they searched for food.

The Xerin Princess loved the ocean, loved how free and fierce it was, like nobody could tell it what to do.

But that wasn't all.

Talia also loved the smell of the sea; the taste of the air; the sound of the waves crashing upon the shore, drifting gently in through her open bedroom windows at night, soothing her to sleep and filling her dreams with wonder and awe.

Any Xerin would tell you how the ocean was a part of them, but Talia felt as if she was a part of the ocean. As if, should she dive in, her feet would become a tail, her neck would sprout gills, her back a fin, and her laughter would echo freely through the water.

But alas, her home stood on land, and her sister's call echoed in the distance, cutting through the rolling waves like an icy breeze.

By the time Izira arrived, Talia was already on her feet, her back to her beloved ocean. "I'm here," she sighed, "sorry I snuck out of lessons again." Her toes scuffed the white sand, digging up tiny crystal shells that sparkled in the midday sun.

Izira dithered on how to continue. On the one hand, Talia needed to attend her lesson, on the other…

She smiled. "Hey, want to build a sandcastle together?"

Talia smirked. "You okay sis?"

"It's a nice day and the waters are crystal clear." Izira shrugged and walked up to the shore, turning Talia around to face the sea once more. "It's the weekend and that was your last lesson for the day. Why not have fun?"

"Okay," Talia beamed, forming a bucket out of her magic. "Last one to the water is a rotten gumash!" she cried and sprinted off.

Izira followed, hot on her heels, laughing at her little sister's antics.

Their parents arrived shortly, and while they gave Izira a pointed look - at fifteen she should know better than this - they still helped add the final touches to the sandcastle.

No matter how many lessons or royal duties their girls had to attend to, Laina and Omar never wanted to miss out on quality time with either of their daughters, not when the days stretched out long and far in front of them.

There would always be a tomorrow.

Calix

"HEADS UP!"

Carissa threw the salad bowl through the air to one of her twin brothers - Theo - who caught it and slammed it down on the table next to his plate. "NICE ONE!"

Livia chortled loudly and high fived her daughter. "That was a great toss."

On her other side, Melissa groaned. "Do we have to have puns at the dining table, Liv?"

"We sure do, honey." At this the Regnant Queen scooped some from the pot just in front of her and deposited it on her plate, wiggling her eyebrows at her wife.

Melissa had to giggle at that one.

The other Calixian prince, Oskar, munched his meal in silence, not even flinching when the table shook as Carissa and Theo threw more plates of food across the table at each other.

A stray saebira leg almost hit Oskar in the head, but his hand darted out to catch it last minute and he added it to the pile of food on his plate. "That's the second time I've had to catch that," he muttered, remembering his morning hunt.

"And we're all very grateful, son," Melissa said warmly. "Aren't we all?"

Livia grinned at Oskar, and Carissa and Theo started banging their fists on the table, shaking it something terrible, and chanting their brother's name.

"Yes thank you, I'd like to actually be able to eat my meal now."

"Alright grumpy guts," Theo joked, "you gotta think fast first!" And with that he tossed several dishes and various condiment jars across the table.

Oskar caught each and every one of them.

The entire family cheered in applause and Oskar rolled his eyes but then stood up to bow to his 'audience'. "Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week! I'd like to thank my gorgeous moms, my ferocious sister, and… that's it."

"HEY!"

Oskar laughed and leant over the table to mess his brother's hair up. "I'm kidding, and a thank you to my younger brother who drives me crazy."

"Well what else are brothers for?" Theo grinned, not bother by the current state of his hair.

Livia and Melissa exchanged a look and smiled, reaching for each other's hand across the corner of the table.

They did love their little chaotic family.

Borealis

Lyna slammed the door behind her and threw herself onto her bed, curling up and hugging her pillow tightly. Why did her mother have to be like this? So against any decision she made, no matter what it was.

Soon the pillow was covered with faint makeup smears and tear stains, so when she heard a soft knock at the door it was all she could do to mumble a warbled, "GO AWAY!!!"

It open regardless and her father stepped in with a tea tray.

"Hey munchkin, I brought you your favourite, crystalflower tea. And some chocler in case you were peckish." Lovis shrugged. "Figured you could use the pick me up."

Lyna nodded and sat up, brushing her tears away - and her makeup. "Thank you, Father."

Lovis walked over to sit next to his daughter on the bed, letting her lean against him while she drank her tea and nibbled the sugary treat. He rubbed her back soothingly, humming a simple melody from Lyna's childhood.

"Won't you get into trouble for this?" she asked carefully between sips.

"It doesn't matter, you're more important." Lovis winced at the memory of the last time he'd been 'punished', the scars on his back still not healed.

Lyna put her empty teacup down. "Father… why do you stay with her?" It had been something Lyna had always wondered, right since she'd been a little girl. She could never understand why her father always took what her mother dished out, never fighting back, never cowering. He just, accepted his fate. "Why don't you save yourself?" She looked up at his face, weathered and weary despite his relatively young age.

Lovis chuckled half heartedly and wiped away the fresh tears on her face. "As if I could leave you to deal with her alone." He knew if he ever did leave, Adaline would take it out on their daughter, and he could never allow that. This was his burden to bear.

Leaning into his touch, Lyna nodded briefly, ever so grateful that she at least had her father she could rely on.

"You know…" Lovis began slowly. "I do still love her, somehow, I don't know how." He sighed and stared down at the ring on his finger. "It's stupid I know, but one day I hope I can wake up and find the woman I married next to me."

Lyna placed her hand over his. "It's not stupid, it's just… I don't think it's going to happen, she's not going to change. And you deserve better than this, we deserve better."

Lovis shrugged, not knowing what to say.

Luckily, there would come a day when his scars would be allowed to heal - both those on his skin and those in his heart - and love would blossom anew.

Volta

Deep in the dangerous depths of the Voltan forest, the animals roamed freely and consumed all that they came across, Voltans included. Unless of course, those Voltans were the royal family,  and already all riding one of the most ferocious beasts in the forest - pyrolems.

Obsidian hooves shook the ground as the Voltan family rumbled past. Flaming tails and manes simmered tamely, the odd ember sparking off now and then, disappearing into the air.

Emilia and Erik led the group, their children following behind. Those that weren't old enough to ride alone sat astride their siblings or aunts and uncles' mounts, clutching on tightly and whooping as the wind brushed past them, sunset hair fluttering wildly behind them.

Auriana was one such child, holding onto the back of Jodan's shirt.

As they passed the wild fauna of the Voltan forest, she gazed and beamed at the oddities, the colours dancing and swirling in front of her very eyes, the textures delighting and amusing her. Her surroundings inspiring her young mind to search for adventure, for happiness, and truth, and love, and freedom.

The forest told her she could be anything she wanted to be.

Jodan looked over his shoulder. "You okay back there, Auri?" he asked, voice only just reaching the little princess, battling its way through more than the whipping wind.

"You bet!"

They rode on for a while longer until they arrived at a large clearing, wildflowers sprouting up everywhere. The Voltan royals all clambered off their horses, older family members lifting down younger ones.

"Okay," Erik called for his family to look to him, "so, we need pooflas," he pointed at his twin daughters, Olivia and Alicia. "We need juipin heather," he pointed at another pair of children then continued to list off the flora needed, giving each to a pair of Voltans. "Last ones guys, stay with me here. Blue marillas, Zenbordian flowers, moon lilies, ploxum, and… hmm…"

"And lots of freesias!" Emilia finished for him, a bunch already in her arms. "They're my favourites."

Her husband clapped his hands loudly. "And bunches and bunches of freesias for your beautiful mother! Or rather sister for those of you who I didn't father." A wave of laughter tittered across the family, and two by two they began splitting off to find their assigned flower.

As long as they stuck together, nothing would harm them.

And if a huckleknot snake did happen to rear its head at them, they were the royal family - they spoke all animal tongues - so there was nothing to be afraid of.

This was their forest. They were safe.

Runic

"ATI!" Hugo slammed the bedroom door open. "NEW MUSIC DELIVERY!!!" He banged the box down on her desk, paperwork flying everywhere, and the various records inside the box clattering around.

"Be careful!" Ati scolded, magicking the papers back into a neat pile. "You'll damage the vinyls, that is was the humans call them, right?"

Hugo nodded.

The Runic Queen smiled widely, reaching out to eagerly delve her hands back into the box. But before she could, her two children blinked into existence on either side of her, making her jump slightly.

"We heard talk of new music," Mephisto exclaimed happily, grabbing the box, the weight of it almost toppling his small eight year old frame over.

"We'll just be taking this now." Praxina grabbed onto the other side and, as quickly as they'd arrived, they vanished once again, leaving their parents with only the vinyl in Acherontia's hand and an amused look on their faces.

Hugo laughed first and gestured to their one remaining record. "Which one is that?"

"'She's So Lovely, Scouting For Girls'," Ati read out then turned it over, "and 'Wonderful Life'. Which side first?"

"Well the first song is clearly about you so." Hugo grinned at her and she rolled his eyes at him, though his compliment still managed to bring a blush to her face even after all these years they'd been together.

Acherontia passed the vinyl over and Hugo turned to their record player - a gift he'd been given when he was but a small Borealian child by his uncle, the Earth scout - and place the record on it, setting the needle to the start. He then turned with a flourish to his wife and started dancing as the music began to play.

Ati laughed and joined in, her steps slightly out of time as always, but Hugo didn't care. She was perfect that way.

The song went into the chorus and after a few lines, Hugo got the melody and sung along. "She's so lovely, she's so lovely, she's so lovely~ " His voice was low and in perfect harmony, his accent adding his own personal touch to the song as he twirled Ati around, dipping and kissing her ever so softly as the song went back into the verse.

They laughed and dance some more, the music rippling through the air around them and lifting their spirits, letting them revel in the feel of each other.

I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, how we'll make it through this~

"Together," Ati whispered, looking up at him, fingers and thumbs locked with his.

Hugo brought their joint hands up and bent slightly to kiss her knuckles. "Always together," he agreed.

[sarajoymerkin]

Too Soon?

The first thing that everyone tells you about visiting a concentration camp is that it isn’t going to be this terrible pile of human ash that you might be expecting. That’s still exactly what I went in picturing. Suffice to say, I was shocked by how organized and clean Auschwitz was. But I suppose that makes sense. It takes an immense level of organization to be a masterful murdering machine.  

The worst Nazi run camps in World War II were built in Poland early in the war. It was inconvenient for the Germans to waste their own land on such things and they wanted to make Germany as Jew-free as possible. Poland was the natural choice after it fell so easily to the Nazi troops in 1939, and Poland housed not only Auschwitz-Birkenau, but also Majdanek and Treblinka, two of the deadliest camps established, not to mention hundreds of others. I visited some of these camps during my five-day trip to Poland last year, each more painful to see than the one before it. In the Modern Orthodox Jewish community visiting Poland is seen almost as a rite of passage. The Holocaust has such a powerful impact on Jewish heritage and there has been a big push in the past few generations to gain as much exposure to it as possible before it becomes another distant historical massacre. Whether the trip is done with The March of the Living, an outreach program for religious and nonreligious Jewish high school students, or with a gap year Israel group, most Jewish students make the journey before they go off to college.  

The Holocaust was a large part of my Jewish identity and for so long I assumed I would go on The March senior year.  It was a trip I had wanted to take ever since I read “The Book Thief” by Markus Zusak in eighth grade. From that point on I had a fascination with WWII historical literature and I viewed the Poland trip as a chance to truly witness it and allow the images and stories I had read about come to life. However, it simply didn’t work out at the time and instead I went during my gap year in Israel. The gap year was spent furthering and understanding my relationship with God and it was clearly the right time for me, since Poland was significantly more meaningful with the friends I made in Israel. There’s something about a trip like that that bonds a group together.  

The second thing that everyone tells you is that it’s so much fun, when it isn’t sad. The days are spent in segments, traveling between sites, one terror after another. No one can be that sad for that long. It’s just too hard. So, the bus rides and meal breaks became these sessions of comedic relief for us all. My friends and I had an ongoing wordplay game throughout the experience. Anytime we would go to a new place, we created a series of puns based on its name. It started with the town Lublin (pronounced lube-lin), which turned into Lublin there done that, Lublint, #Lublit and many other nonsensical puns. Then it went on for Leżajsk (pronounced Lee-jance) with hits like, Lezajsk gonna be ok da do do, lehappenstance, allezajsk. And for some reason, every one of these puns was the funniest joke in the world.  

The first day of the trip was spent in Warsaw, visiting the minimal remains of the Warsaw Ghetto and the Jewish cemetery that is still standing. At the cemetery, I was asked to share the story “If Not Higher” by Y.L. Peretz, a famous Yiddish author, as I stood before his grave. It is a story that looks down upon the dissent among different Jewish sects and lack of respect for one and other. It is a story that was especially poignant while standing among a history where it didn’t matter what type of Jew you were identified as. You were going to be persecuted anyways.  

That night we went to the first concentration camp we would visit, Treblinka. Perhaps the worst of all the Polish camps, nothing remains of Treblinka today except railroad tracks and a beautiful monument. Treblinka was the Nazi’s most efficient killing machine. In fact, it was so methodical that it got to a point where 2,000 people were killed every hour. By the time Treblinka was shut down in 1943 it accommodated over ten gas chambers and a collection of Jewish prisoners that had to burn the bodies afterward. Few prisoners managed to escape the camp and share what had happened there. Today all that remains are the thousands of stones, laid out by the Polish government in memory of all the lives lost. The journal from that night reads as follows:

“Treblinka was definitely an experience. I didn’t get emotional, but I felt heavy. Rachel, Talia, and I held hands for most of it. We stood by the monument in a circle. Everyone held a candle and went around saying a name from one the Warsaw Cemetery graves that each of us had chosen to remember. I said, Samuel. It’s my brother’s name. We left the candles on the ground and sang as we walked back. I couldn’t help but wonder who cleans up those candles” (01/31/18).

The third thing everyone tells you is that there are no expectations for how you should react. They tell you that some people cry while others don’t. They tell you that some people get angry while others feel content. They emphasize to you that some people don’t feel anything at all. They don’t want you to feel guilty if you don’t.  Looking back on it now, I find that last journal sentence so enlightening. I was suppressing and denying so much pain at the time that I distracted myself by wondering about the candles. Back at the hotel that night, we added to our list of puns.

The next day we went to Majdanek, one of the camps that are most intact today since the Soviet Army got to it before the Nazis had time to destroy it.  There is a mountain of ashes in Majdanek, all that remains of hundreds of thousands of innocent people murdered there. However, what is possibly the most appalling fact about Majdanek is simply how close it was to civilization. Other camps were far more remote and removed from society, whereas Majdanek was close to many towns and easily accessible. Nowadays there is a town directly next to the remains of the camp. There are homes with their back windows facing the campgrounds. Imagine waking up in the morning and seeing a gas chamber outside your window. Why would anyone want to live there?

“The camp was so shocking. It felt so lifeless, but I guess it’s always been that way. I didn’t cry. The only time I got emotional was when I was hugging Shelli as she was bawling. But I held back tears then, so I could be there for her. It was hard on a lot of people. But it wasn’t on many others. I understood the severity, but I didn’t feel it. I just was. That was all” (02/01/18).

Perhaps the most impactful moment in Majdanek was when we stood inside a gas chamber, with blue Zyklon B stains covering the cement walls, and we sang the song Gam Ki Elech (Psalm 23).

Gam Ki Elech (Yes, I walk)

b'gay Tzalmavet (In the valley of death)

Lo Irah rah (But I fear no evil)

ki atah imadi (Because you [God] are at my side)

גַּם כִּי-אֵלֵךְ   בְּגֵיא צַלְמָוֶת   לֹא-אִירָא רָע   כִּי-אַתָּה עִמָּדִי  

The biblical commentator Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki teaches that this song was written while King David was running away from King Saul, who was trying to murder him. Despite the danger he was in David still wrote this testament to God, acknowledging that he is safe since God is there to protect him. But where was God for the people that died in the very gas chamber that I was in, singing those words?  

I got my answer the next day while sitting under a tree in Zbylitowska Góra. The Polish town has a forest behind it that the Nazis used during the war for mass graves. Thousands of Jews and other prisoners in the town were taken to the forest, lined up, shot, and piled into the ground. Today there are blue fences all over this vast clearing in the woods. Below each fence are the bones of thousands of innocent people. One of the fences has a sign that explains that it holds the bodies of 800 children. 800 children that were forced to line up and watch as their friends were brutally murdered, knowing they would be next. Children.  

I cried for my first time on the trip that day. We were each given a letter that our parents had written for us. I stood there, in front of 800 dead children, holding a letter from my parents, and I cried. I cried because I felt so guilty that I got to live past childhood, to experience my parents as people and form real relationships with them. I cried because I felt so guilty that those children will never get to experience that. I chose not to read my letter until I got back on to the bus. Instead, I wrote a poem.

“The coat bloodied    

Jacob crying deeply

Unaware Joseph was lifted out of the pit

And sold into God’s plan

Why did he survive  

For so many to fall

What was the plan

As so many lay dead  

In the pit

The air bloodied

Rachel crying deeply

At the sight of her sons  

Never coming home  

Joseph Joseph

What are you going to do?

This time there are no brothers

To pull you out  

They are shoved in too

Leaving Rachel barren

Crying deeply

Aware they will never come home”  

(02/02/18)

And yet, I wasn’t angry with God. On the contrary, the forest and the letter made me realize that God is still with and protecting the Jewish people because we are still here today. It’s an answer that isn’t ideal but is satisfying enough. I needed my faith more than anything at that time. I needed a crutch to believe in, a reason to still find purpose and meaning to existence, while so many others didn’t get the chance to. Who was I to denounce God for this while so many Jews believed strongly that their torture was a part of a larger plan?  

A much needed mental break came that weekend, while we celebrated the Sabbath and my birthday. I had joked for a few weeks beforehand that instead of cake they’d get me a small ration of bread. Both Friday night and Saturday were filled with powerful singing and biblical learning in Krakow. We visited various gorgeous synagogues that by some miracle survived the war. It was the strangest, yet the best birthday I’ve ever had. And it helped me prepare for the next day when we cautiously walked into Auschwitz-Birkenau.

Auschwitz-Birkenau was both an extermination camp and a concentration camp, meaning it not only had gas chambers but also many residents who did harsh labor every day. There was a sign at the entrance in German that stated, “Arbeit Macht Frei,” which means work will set you free. Many people entered the camp with hope. Many people were immediately chosen to be gassed. Auschwitz-Birkenau is infamous for being the sole executor of nearly 1,000,000 out of the 6,000,000 Jewish deaths that occurred during the Holocaust and totaling to around 100,000 deaths of other minority groups. It is so difficult to understand the vastness of those numbers.

I felt apathetic during Auschwitz. I think I had been warned enough about how difficult it was going in that once I was there, so my walls were stronger than they should have been. The main thought I had about Auschwitz was how huge it was. We spent an entire day at the camp. Not because there was so much information to cover, simply because the camp was so massive it took all day to get through it. I could not see from one end to the other. Everything about Auschwitz was big. There is a museum in the camp that displays all of the leftover prisoner belongings. An entire room filled with shoes. An entire room filled with eyeglasses. An entire room filled with shaved hair. The Nazi’s kept it all. It is so difficult to understand the vastness of those numbers until you see the museum. All of those shoes belonged to victims. All of those eyeglasses belonged to victims. All of that hair belonged to victims. I understood all of this, but I didn’t feel. I just was.  

Walking out of Auschwitz that night, we all linked arms and sang traditional Jewish songs, united as one. No jokes were made on the bus home that night. No one needed the comic relief. The immense connection we had as we walked out, proudly singing, proudly proving we, the Jewish people, had survived, was enough to mend our heartbreak.  

We returned to Israel the next day and I don’t think I ever truly understood the importance of the state until that moment. I suppose the visual in my head of Israel’s purpose changed once I realized how many people viewed it as a beacon of safety and hope. Visiting Poland allowed me to approach the remainder of my year in Israel with a newfound love and appreciation for the State, and my Jewish identity. When a loved one dies you are supposed to grieve and accept and then move on. I feel like we all collectively did that over the course of the trip, whether with crying in the camps, telling jokes to soothe the pain or finally allowing ourselves to feel. We grieved, we accepted as much as we could, and we went back to Israel and partook in a nation moving on.

[nightspsyche]

Duality - Elana/Oliver [solo]

Word count: Ungodly (aka 2,716)

Featuring: Three muses from @ourfracturedcode

   "Focus," Oliver's voice continued to pull her back from the brink of distraction. Elana however couldn't help but to sigh and nod once. "I know this is hard for you Elana. Your head is here, wanting to learn how to control what you don't understand. Your heart however is back in Central City. You need to get them together."

   "If you start calling me grasshopper.." she shoots him a look, her eyes still filled with the image of the fire between them. Sweat was pouring from her brow in the mini sweat lodge they'd built that morning. "And if this turns into me slapping a bucket of water? You're going to be wearing it."

   For a brief moment, a flicker of a smile forms on Oliver's lips. He does however decide to ignore her little jab. The last thing he wanted was a reminder of Shado. ""You're angry, and you have every right to be. But that anger comes from somewhere, and it seems to fuel your metapowers. Although I think your metapowers also fuel your anger."

  "I'm not sure I follow." she admits, pulling a damp strand of hair away from where it had become stuck on her forehead.

   "Those who go through the Pit experience an increase in anger." Oliver leaned forward, pouring another ladle of water over the coals. "With Thea it was immediate but disappeared, only to return when she fought. With Sara, it was something that needed to be removed. Like she was possessed, which maybe she was. Possessed by whatever lives in the Pit."

   "So, what you're saying is.." Elana took a slow breath, feeling like the steam was choking her. Ignoring the sound of water sizzling on rock, she pressed on. "I'm possessed by some kind of anger spirit?"

   Thinking back on what Constantine had done for Sara, Oliver wasn't sure what to call it. "In a way. I'm not sure what goes on in the Pit only that it works, and that those who come back from the dead don't always stay who they were. You died before being placed in the Pit, you came back different?"

   The question caught her off guard. "I believe so.. I was always closed off but, I became even more closed off. I was angry at everything, at everyone. The only one who could control it, and me, was Talia.. One of Ra's daughters.." lowering her eyes, she wiped at the sweat that seemed to only make her  more frustrated. "I'm not sure what.. Triggered this."

   "Think. One day you were fine, and then you were seeing the shadows you told me about." Oliver refused to look away from her. Under his gaze she squirmed, feeling oddly uncomfortable. "What happened in that time."

   "I don't know."

   "You know." he pressed.

   "Ollie I don't."

  "You're lying, Elana." he snapped, hating that he needed to but he knew it was the only way to get to her. "You know, and you need to tell me."

  Anger swelled and as much as she wanted to allow that other side of her out, the bracelets on her wrists refused. She could feel the drain of it, could feel the anger almost immediately melting away. It didn't fade however, and she could still feel Strife clawing at the surface. Of course she knew what it was that had caused it, but bringing up the details made her upset. Thinking of them scared her, made her have nightmares.

   "The League attacked while I was running with Barry." her voice comes out strained, almost a whisper. "He was hurt, I went through some ice near where we were. He came in after me, helped me get away from the guy holding me under. The guy went for him and.." her words choke off and all she can do is shake her head.

   "You were worried about losing him." Oliver offered. "Maybe even scared."

   "I'm League trained, we don't get scared!" Elana snaps, that anger coming back to the surface again with renewed energy. Of course she knew he was right, she had been scared. She had been scared that he was going to die, that she wouldn't be strong enough to get him back to her grandmother's place. She had been scared of all of the potential outcomes of that horrible situation. "I don't get scared." there was less conviction to her words.

  "Elana it's okay to be scared, especially when it comes to someone you care about. If that had been Felicity, do you think I would have been calm?" despite his question, he was the outward picture of calm. "You and I?" he motioned between the two of them."We weren't meant to be in the kind of League that Ra's and your father envisioned. The help you gave me in attempting to end that dream of theirs is something I can never repay you for. In the end the League is something that can never die, you and I both know that. But we can still fight against what they want it to be. We can still be who we always were."

  Elana snorted out a laugh. "That's the difference between you and I, Ollie. You got to have a childhood, a normal life for people like us. People born into a wealthy home. I never got that. I don't know who I was before the League, during it, or now. The only reason I am comfortable with my life is because I've been able to lead it how I want since moving to Central City. Since getting away from all of that. I can finally be happy, I can finally live how I want."

  "That is why you were scared about the idea of losing Barry." Oliver smiles. "You were scared that you would have to go back to having no identity. To not knowing who you could be, who you wanted to be without him. He is the reason you moved to Central City, the reason you're happy and it was almost taken away from you by the League."

   "Just like my father took my mother away from me.. He nearly took.." closing her eyes she shakes her head. "I'm not having this conversation with you Oliver." pressing to her feet she pushes her way out of the sweat lodge. Only seconds passed before she was whirled around by the other bow wielding vigilante. "Let me go Ollie."

  "You can't keep running from this." he urged her. "Running is what's making this thing stronger. There comes a point in your life where you have to stop running from the things that make you afraid."

  Staring at him for a moment she laughs. "You're the one to talk! You've done nothing but run from everything since you got off that island!"

  "Is this about us?"

  "What? No! God, Oliver ew." Elana pulls her arm free and holds up her hands. "Not that you're ew because you're not. But Jesus.. That's not even the point, we both agreed it wasn't the best idea. Not with what we both do. But I mean you running from your feelings for Felicity. Of running away from repairing things with Diggle. Of running away from the fact that you know you can't do everything on your own, your own selfish pride that keeps you from asking for help."

  Oliver's jaw set angrily. "I can agree with some of those things."

  "So help me if you say but not all of them I will push your ass into the snow." pressing her hands onto her hips, she met him with a steady glare. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground, and she was aware that they barely had clothes on due to the sweat lodge. However she was more than willing to ignore the cold in favor of giving him a hard time. She had anger to direct somewhere and she wasn't sure where to focus it. Oliver was there, he had a tendency to be difficult, so who better? "I asked you to come here to help me. Not tell me I have anger issues, that I'm some scared little child who can't have an identity without someone being in my life."

  "That's not what I meant."

   "It's exactly what you meant!" her voice raised, scaring off a small flock of birds from some nearby trees. "I can have an identity, I just won't have the happiness. There's a difference. Some of us may have gone through some horrible things ourselves Oliver. But we don't use it to piss people off, or to accuse them as being as one dimensional as you are."

  Oliver took a step back, taking hold of the bow he had left by the door to the lodge. "Elana.. You really should put that bracelet back on.."

  "What are you talking about?" looking down, she noticed the silver, power dampening bracelet dangling from two fingers. Her left wrist was bare and she had no memory of taking it off. Blinking rapidly she tried to put it back on with shaking fingers. "I'm.. I'm sorry.." looking up, she realized he had his bow in hand and it was leveled. "Ollie I'm fine I promise.."

  "Not why I'm holding this.." he voice was different, more vigilante than Mayor Queen. Seeing that his eyes were focused behind her, she whirled quickly. With a spin she placed herself beside him, taking up her own bow and aiming it in the same direction.

   "Masyn.. Come to finish the job you attempted to start back in Central City?" Elana muttered, her jaw muscles tensed with her anger.

   "Canada? Truly Elana you are ever predictable in your eager desire to escape your reality." Masyn lifted his chin, his men fanning out behind him. They were outnumbered, out armed, but they were also ready to take them all on. "Did you think your father never knew where you were at, at any given time? Did you believe he was unaware of your little.." Masyn waved a hand in the air. "Affair with that investigator for the police?"

  Elana swallowed a cold lump of dread. "Get to your point."

   "My point, my dear is that we've always known." the smile that had once won her over, now made her sick. "We know too well about your grandmother, who is in fact being paid a visit by a few dear friends of ours. I believe you may know them well. Annalise and Ronan have promised to make her death quick."

  Elana's fingers twitched on the drawstring of her bow, nearly releasing the arrow. Oliver cast her a sideways glance, barely shaking his head but it was enough for her to notice. Tightening her grip, taking a breath and stilling her arm she tried to keep her worry from showing.

  "Still full of lies are we?" she resorted to cool indifference, grateful her voice didn't shake. "Annalise wants nothing to do with me, regardless of whether or not she is my aunt. As for Ronan? Were I to remember this correctly, he recently was taken care of by the Red Hood?" Elana mused. "How is he in any shape to be going after an elderly woman?" Masyn's left eye twitched.

   "And were I to tell you that your darling Talia had joined our cause?" Masyn's words were filled with a dark edge. "It is she who wishes the lie of Ronan aiding Annalise to be known. In fact she is the one who will deliver the final blow upon the woman you hold so dear. Once we're done with her? We will find the investigator and this time, you will be allowed to watch."

  Shifting her aim just to his left, Elana let one arrow fly before quickly grabbing another. The single arrow took one of the League members behind Masyn in the shoulder. Masyn looked once over his shoulder before sighing.

  "Don't test my patience right now." Elana growled. Oliver however looked less than please by the fact she had just leveled one of the League members.

   "Your patience?" the voice came from behind them, and she cursed herself for nothing thinking of this before. Oliver stayed focused on Masyn while she spun to face the man approaching with more League members. "What of mine?"

  "Screw you and your imaginary patience." Elana spit the words. Her father's following had grown since Nyssa destroyed the Lazarus Pit and the League. "Does your Ra's know you're out here playing imaginary knight?"

  "Malcolm Merlyn is a fool who allowed us to be destroyed by a child throwing a tantrum." Emile's face darkened as he looked at his daughter. "And you, I had expected so much more from. Following this.." he motioned with one hand to Oliver who was trying to keep an eye on both groups of assassins. "Imposter."

  "Imposter? I guess you would know the meaning of that word well, wouldn't you? You pretended to be a loving, devoted follower for my entire life." Elana laughed out the words, though the sound was bitter. "Oliver Queen is the only Ra's I will ever follow, until my death and even after." she knew the words were an oath often spoke by those in the League. They hit home just as she had intended and her father lifted a hand, striking her across the face.

 Staggering, and cursing herself silently for not keeping her bow raised, she bumped into Oliver's shoulder.

  "How about we settle this in a more fitting manner for the League?" he offered, reaching out to steady her. Already a bruise was growing on her cheek, and his own anger began to rise.

   "League ways?" Emile almost seemed impressed. "What is your proposal?"

   Elana looked to Oliver, shaking her head. "Fight until submission, or until death." he spoke the words despite her warning.

  "Very well. Since you pretend to be Ra's, and I should be the rightful Demon's Head? You have your fight." Emile shrugged off the jacket he was wearing, his League gear looking sinister and of a new design.

  "Wait!" Elana spoke before realizing what she was doing. "Masyn is your second, right? Your heir?" Emile looked to the man in question, before nodding once. "Ra's," Elana spoke the word to Oliver, glad when her father scowled. "Is it not customary for those fighting for control to have their heirs fight as well? Who is your heir to the ring?"

  Oliver frowned, knowing where she was going with this. "You're asking to fight Masyn?"

  "Of course not. In a fight for League control, the heir fights in place of their Ra's in his or her honor. They fight the one who seeks to take the ring." a faint smirk curled on her lips and seeing the words sink in, she lifted one eyebrow.

  "Are you sure about this?" Oliver leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You'll be fighting your father, and he's been doing this longer than the two of us."

  "You're forgetting who trained me to be in the League." Elana whispered. "I know all of his moves, he was trained by Ra's himself. But I was trained by Ra's daughter and Masyn both. My father trained Masyn, so his moves will be identical to Ra's to a fault. You can defeat him easily. My father won't be prepared for how I fight now, not after I've trained with you, Sara and Malcolm."

  Oliver stared at her for a moment before nodding. "I don't want control of the League again."

  "Then don't." Elana shrugged. Leaning back she looked to Masyn and Emile. "Ra's has agreed to the terms and as his heir I wish to set stipulations of my own." Emile nodded once to signal for her to continue. "Should Ra's and myself win our duals, we will seek the disbandment of your claim on the League. You are not to seek revenge, you are not to reform. You are to leave all of those we love alone. If you win, I will do as you wish and I will rejoin the League on one condition. Those I care about are to be spared any harm, and Oliver Queen will be free to return home, unharmed."

   Emile nodded once. "Very well. Dual with no interference, no underhanded moves. To submission or to death."

[dicecharmer]

Episode Four

The scene outside the windmill was tranquil.  Azgard stood watch with Ismark and Ireena. A raven eyed them curiously, but they paid it no mind. Without warning the windmill door burst open and Ifor stumbled out.  Ireena said something. Ifor didn’t hear the words--only the sound.  He took this opportunity to make his own sound by muttering sinister words and flinging lightning from his fingertips back towards the hags inside the silenced windmill.

The scene inside was chaos. Azgard wasted no time launching himself right into it.  His charge brought his greatsword slashing down through Morgantha. Everyone saw the glint of the silvered edges of the huge blade before it sliced clean leaving a large gash in the hag’s flesh.  The hag slumped against a large barrel near the center of the room.  She rapped on the rim with her murderous claw, and the green ichor inside began to boil and emit a putrid glow.  Two hands reached out of the ichor, and a dretch pulled itself from the barrel and into the fray.

The fight inside the cramped windmill was as much a chess match of positioning and protection as it was a brawl. Bruize took his first opportunity to escape up the stairs to the second floor.  He would have gone further, but Offalia caught him. Distracted, Bruize lost his concentration maintaining the silence. Generally personable, Liran eagerly practiced his caustic verbal magics again.  Hella feverishly laid into Morgantha with her axe but still her attacks seemed blunted.  Azgard tossed his great silvered blade to her.  Face burning, the half-orc kicked the hag to the floor and cleaved her through.  

“Your coven is broken. Your mother is dead. Leave us the children and go.” Bruize offered Offalia from a position of feigned superiority. The hag seemed to actually consider retreat before tearing into the monk with a barrage of magic missiles. Talia heard their struggle upstairs, and with great skill arced her thorn whip up the curving stairs where it seized the hag’s ankle and forcibly tumbled her back to the first floor. Bleeding, Bruize continued to the third floor in search of the hag’s young captives.

Three dretches grumpily fought alongside their wicked masters now.  To prevent any further reinforcements Liran hoisted the now half-empty barrel above his head and poured the remaining sludge over Morgantha’s corpse. The party easily dispatched the minor demons while coordinating their attacks against the remaining Night Hags.  The hag daughters were losing passion with every blow. Then came a rude noise from the hag mother’s corpse, and a most rancorous gas cloud the color of the putrid green ichor filled the room.  Guards were lowered as the party’s lungs rejected the foul cloud. The hags revived their assault.

In the third floor closet Bruize found the stacked cages. Here too, small bones littered the floor. A boy and girl occupied two of the six locked cages. As he freed them, the girl observed Bruize with tremendous, bright eyes.  Bruize noted the stark comparison between her and the boy whose eyes were lifeless and expression dour.  “He’s always like that.  I think he must’ve been born that way. So many here are.”  The girl explained to the monk. Bruize took the children to the window. “Hold tightly.” he admonished as he flung open the shutters and regarded the ground three stories below.  After over a hundred years of training, one thing Bruize could do exceptionally well was fall.  He and his passengers came to the ground as slowly as leaf on a gentle breeze might have. The boy slumped to the ground and stayed for some time before picking himself up.  The girl nearly leaped from Bruize’s arm to turn to face him and say, “My name is Reka. I want you to know that I’m very pleased for you to have saved my life.”

As the noxious gas cloud dissipated, Bella Sunbane and Offalia Wormwiggle found themselves surrounded. The pain of wounds received set in for all combatants as they heaved for oxygen. Hella seized Bella by the throat and prepared to finish the hag. Hella’s grasp tightened, pressing into the trachea, but her hand closed on itself as Bella faded from this plane and disappeared. Seeing her sister’s retreat, Offalia decided to do the same before meeting her end, and both hags had completely vanished.  The party took a moment to breathe as Ifor picked exploded bits of dretch off himself.

“You’re safe now. Go to your home.” Bruize encouraged the liberated children. “Grown ups sold me for a pie.” Reka countered. “I assume his parents did the same. I’ll be coming with you.  I’m quite smart--you’ll see.  Not to mention, you very much need my help.”  Again she fixed her great eyes upon him.  If she was afraid of this elf whose tattooed face resembled a skull she did not let on.  In fact, the look she gave him showed understanding and empathy he could not remember encountering since his childhood a lifetime ago. Bruize conceded. “Stick with me, kid. You’ll be OK.”

The party did not have to search long to find the item foretold in Madam Eva’s tarot reading.  Sitting in a bird’s nest in the attic above the children’s cages was a powerful holy symbol.  The group passed it around before Azgard claimed it. That it was powerful there was no doubt.  What that power did, however, was a mystery. They left the windmill where children’s bones were ground to make pastries and returned to the Old Svalich Road.

Both the night and a storm were nearly fully arrived when the group spotted a carriage in the road.  It was facing them, headed south. As they neared it they recognized it as the carriage in which Vasili von Holtz left the vistani camp at Tser Pool. Then they saw von Holtz. They saw him crawling towards them--a trail of blood leading back to the carriage. He pleaded to the party, “help” and then he collapsed.

Liran approached the carriage. The driver’s hooded cloak was pulled over his eyes, but the bard could see the driver was grinning. Liran thought about his words to address the driver carefully, but in place of the words he found a voice. The voice was calling to him. No, the voice was screaming, and it wasn’t one voice--it was many. No, it was hundreds. The rest of the party saw Liran wince in pain and moved to him. When they approached the carriage they could hear the screams too. The driver took the four horse team to a trot, and the black iron carriage came up alongside the party.  The door opened, and those with darkvision could see a seated figure inside.  It spoke, “It is time. Come with me.”

Ireena’s feet began to carry her to the carriage. Hella was standing near and took Ireena by the arm. Restrained by the half-orc Ireena seemed more like a rebuked teenage lover now.  She turned on Hella, “Let me go!” but she could not break free from Hella’s grip. The voice came from the carriage again. It spoke with charisma, passion, and authority: “You have all been excellently entertaining, but now the games are completed. Give her to me! Give her to me, and I will let you leave this place.”

“Well. . .” Liran trailed off as he turned to consider his companions.

“Why do you want her?” Ifor demanded of the figure.  The response carried no doubt.

“Her soul belongs to me.”

“OK.”  Talia signaled Hella, and with practiced choreography Hella threw Ireena onto her teammate’s back just as the druid became a dire wolf. Talia was bounding north before most realized what had happened, but the carriage door immediately slammed shut and the reins were snapped.  Those standing closest to the carriage had to dive out of the way as it careened in pursuit of the women.

Azgard took a misty step and appeared in the driver’s seat to fight for control. Bruize snatched the carriage as it wheeled past him and clung to the back. A jolt almost made him lose his grip, but he deftly flipped upside down and climbed to the underside. Ifor also made a misty step towards the fleeing carriage and materialized next to the freshly displaced body of Azgard who was forcibly removed from the driver’s seat.  From underneath the carriage Bruize uncoupled the connection between carriage and horse team.  The driver let go the reins before being pulled from the seat by the free horse team.

Hella called to the horses with her beast sense. “Help us.” The nearest horse looked to its neighbor who seemed to scoff. “Lady, you’re crazy.” Hella could not reach the horses before the driver mounted one and sent the others off into the night. Rather than follow Ireena’s flight north however, the hooded rider cut through the party to flee eastward. Again, Bruize caught a ride. He attempted to immobilize the horse with a stunning strike, but the screams--hundreds of screams assaulted him. The first scimitar strike went wide as the horse abruptly leaped a ditch. Bruize forced himself through the psychic pain to sense and dodge the second scimitar stroke. The third scimitar blow brought the pommel nearly through his skull, and the elf went rolling in the dirt as the hooded figure galloped off into the storm.

Liran whispered a spell to superheat the metal of the carriage.  It glowed red hot in the pouring rain and steamed from every surface.  As it cooled the party exchanged uneasy looks.  Ismark swore and began to march toward the carriage door, blade in hand. He was stopped by Azgard who put out his hand to assume responsibility.  Bruize came running up and only slowed for Reka to take his hand and swing onto his back before running off after Talia. The others let them go as they formed ranks behind Azgard and approached the carriage. The dragonborn seemed ready to slice the carriage open, but then only rapped his fist on the door to knock.

Miles away, the dire wolf, Talia, was still bounding northward. Ireena was screaming, furious with her kidnapper.  She brought her rapier up to plunge it through Talia’s wolf flesh, but just as she tightened to make the lethal blow a rough patch of terrain knocked the sword from her hands and she nearly fell from the wolf. Talia growled ferociously as Ireena prepared another blow. She brought her fists down pounding on the wolf’s back. One after the other Ireena pummeled her hero. Slowly her strikes changed and came not from anger but from defeat and regret.  Now Ireena gripped the dire wolf fur tightly as she wept. She sobbed, and Talia kept running toward the lights of Vallaki.

No response came from the knock on the carriage door. Not far away the blood trail in the road lead to Valisi von Holtz’s body. Blinding lightning struck close by, and the thunder shook the carriage as Azgard moved to put his hand on the knob. He opened the door and stepped inside. The carriage was empty.

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