#everything I said still stands. this post shall welcome you as you emerge from under your rock B. You're not sneaky.

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Wednesday | This one is different and no doubt would be long but there are important things to address

This midweek we're talking about as Joseph would say, the snakes in our garden(s), or one snake, depending on how willing you're to believe those two people have just met and are so similar, that everything they do is just a big coincidence and not actual blantant stealing of ideas.

I was first faced with the accounts on Novemeber 13th, two follows at once early in the morning, I didn't think much of it, happy I was getting FC5 mutuals in my notifications instead of bots. I followed them back and got on with my day until late that night I began to notice the first patterns of both accounts potentially being run by the same person when their posts began popping up on my dash. There were mistakes, ways of behaving when posting that stood out to me and would no doubt stand out to you as well as you examine all the things I've managed to gather (I won't exactly be pointing out some tells because as far as I can tell they're not aware of them and I refuse to teach them how to scam people better next time). Months back and ever since really I've been dealing with someone I will not be naming in this post, who was consistently targeting my ideas - from stealing paragraphs and inserting them in their fic to moving onto copying smaller things once I caught their sampling, which then escalated to them literally renaming their already established OC into Sabrina once they believed I wasn't paying attention to them anymore.

The same methods I noticed within those accounts, starting with @ladyofedensgate-xo posting a new FC5 OC reveal that evening with Alycia Debnam-Carey, a character by the name of Harper Montgomery (remember that name). After the whole rename thing and suddenly days later being followed by two new similar to each other accounts, one that was out of nowhere picking the exact face claim I have for the leading heroine of my WIP gave me a pause, made me look deeper into the profiles. Both had no prior activity before November, followed the same list of people, a huge chunk of my mutuals and people I would mention in my tag list for games and writing posts. There were multiple things popping out as behaviour, posting and formatting that inevitably led to me blocking both, suspecting the person that had previously stolen from me was making a return under new identity.

Then me and some mutuals got to talking, turns out, this isn't the first time those 'two' people had infiltrated a fandom and began introducing OCs that would resemble other people's or went as far as to copy things from others. Last time they went by @little-wolf-seed and @ladyofedens-blog, claiming they were two sisters and they were being stolen from, only for both to delete their accounts shortly before the new ones debuted. History does repeat, one of the accounts (same @ladyofedensgate-xo) was deactivated by the next day, November 14, only for a new one to emerge immediately, a carbon copy of its predecessor: @angelofdarkness-things. I got a follow from them again, immediately sending them to blocked, while still keeping an eye out for what was happening.

My attention was grabbed by a Pinterest link AngelOfDarkness had in her pinned post, leading to boards upon boards of OCs (I'm taking large numbers) ready to be deployed, potential back-ups if they get caugh and have to start a new. All boards were created at the same time, with two Pinterest profiles only following each other: breannamarie1220 and alexisdawn10206 (Again they'd go as far as to make posts about just now becoming friends and AOD offering to write for Red Queen and how we should all take that offer, cementing the claim they're different people. Now, I ask: have you ever seen two different people, strangers have pretty much the exact same accounts when it comes to appearance?)

I begin looking at each board, frowning at awful casting choices and race swaps of canon characters, only to be faced with multiple names of my own characters being split and shuffled around and multiple of my faceclaims (those they could figure out) appearing as their to-be-debuted OCs. A list, that would be followed by screenshots (and just in case, either of the them decides to suddenly start changing faceclaims after this post or deleting: everything has been documented, so don't expect a swift exit like last time, or people easily forgetting you).

Sabrina Donovan | by faceclaim: originally they had Alycia casted as a Maya McCoy (last name sounds familiar? Maybe because they literally separated another mutual's Deputy's name in two to give to their characters), only for it to be moved to a Valerie Montgomery (Montgomery again. HM) in the early morning hours today.

Mercedes Sibley | by faceclaim (or what they deemed close enough to her actual fc) given to a Jazmine Stone, a lookalike model by the handle emblu was picked to drive confusion, imo.

Oliver McKenzie | BY NAME and FACECLAIM: now here it gets hilariously bad - they actually mashed Oliver with John's last name prior to joining the project (Duncan) -> Oliver Duncan (Oliver McKenzie debuted as a character in my AU of John Seed as John Duncan). Dylan Riley has been given the face of Boyd Holbrook (Ollie's fc).

Leslie Parish | by faceclaim to an Adam Lancaster.

Oakley Moore | on October 26th I announced her full name Oakley Elizabeth Moore and how her nickname is Lizzie -> Lizzie Palmer in a board. At one point they shared an edit of an Oakley lookalike , for once not tagging an OC (which is unusual for them), so I won't be shocked if she gets casted next as the 'newest OC they can't wait to introduce'.

Smaller characters that are reoccuring in my wips: Both of John's closest Chosen: Mathias Bennett (last name for two characters for each Pinterest account, one is misspelled, which they often do to claim it's not the same name) and Brother Wyatt (first name) -> Wyatt Reed; Both of John's named clients, one is Owen Montgomery (both of his names picked like apples, Montgomery again. HM.) -> Harper/Valerie Montgomery and Owen Palmer. The character that drives the AU and John is in charge of defending: Nathaniel Mooney (even listed as character on my AO3) -> into Nathaniel Graham.

I've noticed MULTIPLE MUTUAL'S OCs NAMES also being ripped off on some scale (so my advice would be to check out the boards yourself), @socially-awkward-skeleton had her Chosen OC Caleb Winters pretty much stolen: exact faceclaim -> Kaleb Rhodes (is he a Kardashian? Now, that would be an interesting headcanon.)

Honestly, at this point, a better question would be which OCs they didn't get to... and the weird creepy behavior continued with saving headcanons into boards (Mer's white dog, Oliver's K9, Sabrina's entire aesthetic, her tattoo - exactly two butterflies, which are everywhere you look - in bios, names, board titles). Having Sabrina's nickname her father had for her and would literally call her in every single one of her memories (Monkey) -> Monkey in their bio only to edit out both the butterflies and Monkey just a couple of hours ago (did you realize you're a carbon copy of your alt Pinterest or? "A strawberry shall fix it! Fool 'em.", she told herself.)

Then the situation only got worse and up the creep-o-meter.

I was notified of something concerning by @adelaidedrubman , who earlier had also been followed both on her main and side blog she uses for reblogs: After getting a strange ghost notification on an blog she doesn't even use and has no activity on, let alone that many followers, she can only see 4 of the 7 people following her. Unblocking the previously mentioned shady accounts, she gets this:

Somehow, both had discovered an account out of use and followed it. An account belonging to the person they had previously followed and been blocked by.

I truly personally believe they still watch my blog and what I post (which btw, whatever your name is: if only you put that much effort into writing your own fics and coming up with characters, headcanons and names instead of stalking multiple mutuals in hunt for ideas...).

Once I finally decided to update my pinned post on my blog with new gifs (which take hours to edit sometimes) of Sabrina, they suddenly pinned a snapshot of one of the exact same gifs to their Valerie Montgomery board. Hours later they reblog the other gif they could find and CHANGE THEIR LAYOUT TO MATCH SABRINA'S SIDEBLOG-> Alycia in the icon and butterfly in the header (my header has been up since April 25, I made it specifically for her blog). Both icon and banner are now changed, one could only ask why even select the previous ones to begin with, if not to fuck with a person you've been targetting.

Now we move onto how they describe their OCs as headcanons, who one of them loves to tag with "Do Not Steal" (Who's stealing here, honey boo? None of us that you've set your sights on have given you any type of permission since you make it a big deal to have it). Little examples in the screenshots below, they have snippets for other characters too, so chances are someone would recogize their blorbo being put in a wig and renamed.

As I'm writing this post, Alycia is still a faceclaim to Valerie (tomorrow she might be moved to a third faceclaim with how they've been behaving), they constantly change things around (despite claiming they have this clear idea of their OCs) and act like they're being stolen from by tagging everything with "no stealing", deleting posts that could make them look suspicious (including the ones I've pointed out of the gifs featuring Alycia and matching my own edits of the scene), taking claim of simple headcanons like Jacob owning a cabin and horses being ridden in Montana, while also mass-following mutuals from multiple fandoms like FC5, COD, Mortal Combat, RDR2, the list goes on and on. They're looking for a place to take root, the next person to leech from. If you're tagged in this, they follow you (and they have been picking OCs names from people they've followed before) and your content, ideas, characters identity might be next on their list of OCs they gather as pokemons. Beware and if they do deactivate after this... well, it won't be as easy to disappear this time around.

To the two Swipers that can't stop swiping: Don't mistake the kindness of the fandom(s) and its people for encouragement to be shady and turn people's happy places into hell. True intentions shine through with time, you can sense when someone deeply loves their characters and when they only push them out like they're on a conveyor belt to gain exposure and false validation for someone else's creativity. This is something you both can't fake, no matter how many times you reemerge as a new person.

In Jacksfilms' wise words, "Stop Stealing."

@corvosattano @florbelles @cassietrn @voidika @theelderhazelnut @onehornedbeast @direwombat @jillvalentinesday @henbased @madparadoxum @josephslittledeputy @trench-rot @g0dspeeed @redreart @purplehairsecretlair @laindtt @mrdekarios @nightbloodbix @simplegenius042 @aceghosts @stacispratt @clicheantagonist @wrathfulrook @strafethesesinners @strangefable @unholymilf @josephseedismyfather @shellibisshe @macs-babies

[thefanficmonster]

A Little Childish

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF

Summary: Corpse and Y/N go to visit Y/N’s parents for New Year’s. Corpse was promised good food, good company and A LOT of snow. Needless to say, the place didn’t disappoint - quite the contrary actually, it exceeded any and all expectations he had.

Requested by @waterflowersposts Hi there! Sorry for how long it took for this fic to be written :( I hope the final result makes up for the long wait! I also thought it would be appropriate to post it during the holiday season, so I hope you don’t mind. Hope you enjoy the read and I’m looking forward to hearing your feedback and any more requests you may have. Stay safe! Happy Holidays! Love, Vy ❤

I watch as Corpse is basically floating from one room into another in our shared apartment as he’s throwing random articles of clothing in his open suitcase. I have already packed my bags, knowing full well what the appropriate attire is for where we’re going.

I look away from my laptop when Corpse comes in for maybe the sixtieth time today, this time carrying a white tee causing me to chuckle. “Corpse, I know it’s very trademark for you, but the only way you’ll be wearing that when we get there is under a sweater for some extra warmth. I’m not looking forward to having my boyfriend freeze in my parent’s house.”

He smiles, looking at the shirt in his hands, and shakes his head, “Fine, guess I’ll do without it for a week or two.” He throws it in our room, not even bothering to check where it’ll land before he comes to sit down next to me on the couch, “Keep in mind, you have set my expectations pretty high up there. If I am not waist deep in snow the second we step off the plane, I’ll be disappointed.”

I give him a side glance, a smirk playing on my lips. Must say, taking on challenges you know you’re gonna win is the ultimate high-and-mighty feeling. “Honey, you’ve got a big snowstorm coming.”

                                                               *  *  *

All throughout our trip - I’m talking the drive to the airport AND the flight over - I have kept my eyes glued to Corpse, observing as his eyes sparkled more and more with each foot we got closer to our destination. He has told me the most snow he has seen was less than an inch and I immediately felt it was my duty to change that by introducing him to the magic of Canada - my home. My parents own a getaway cottage in the mountains of Calgary where we used to go every holiday season. My earliest memory is playing in the thigh-deep snow with my older sister and crying whenever our parents had to drag us back inside. 

The West Coast of the US was a rather odd surrounding for me, having grown up surrounded by snowy mountains, experiencing Christmas with no snow whatsoever was a true let down and underwhelming feeling. Since Corpse and I started dating about a month after Christmas time last year this will be our first time spending the holidays together and Corpse was more than enthusiastic to visit Canada when I mentioned how much I enjoyed my winters there. We couldn’t go for Christmas, but we’ll be there for New Year’s Eve and the first two weeks of 2021 and I am really excited. I have been dying to see my family that has actually expanded since the last time I visited - my sister has had yet another baby, making her and her husband parents of three very energetic toddlers. The six year old twins - Ashley and Alex - and the three year old Andrew. Or, as I like to call them: The 3 As.

I have warned Corpse about them like seven times despite the fact that he’s already familiar with their energy, convincing him that if that’s more than he can handle we’ve still got time to cancel the trip. He didn’t bat an eye though, each time telling me not to worry and focus my attention on reliving the moments I’ve missed so greatly instead of making sure he was having a good time.

“If you’re there...“ he said, “I’ll sure as hell be having a good time.“

One step out of the airport and he’s already mesmerized. His eyes are shiny reflecting the glow of the snow all around. It’s gonna be funny to see his reaction when he witnesses the real deal - the snow in the mountains. This compared to that is a pathetic excuse.

“I know it’s not waist-high, but that’s because they shovel it and melt it.“ He is looking around, not paying much mind to my words. The utter amazement and disbelief on his face just makes me want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him. He’s simply adorable! I see fragments of the child in him swimming up to the surface in the form of temptation - temptation every kid feels when they see snow: Dive in and lose track of time. “Wait till we get to the cottage.“

This manages to catch his attention, “You weren’t kidding.“

I laugh at my precious kiddy boyfriend. “Whoa there, Corpsie. If your mind is already blown, I’m worried about how you’ll react to the real deal.“ 

I have a feeling I know exactly how he’ll react cause I react similarly - I set the child in me free. After all, no parent can tell you to stop playing and go inside when you are a 23-year-old.

                                                             *  *  *

Walking up to the cottage from the cable-car station has to be the first time I’ve breathed with my lungs’ full capacity in the last five years. The sharp cold air screams ‘home’ to me like nothing else ever did. I am still surprised as to how my sister prefers summer. My family jokes I’m a winter wolf in disguise and I think they’re right. I do like to roll around in the snow much like a wolf. No judgement! Having a few extra years added to my age doesn’t change everything.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.“ If I could take a shot every time Corpse has repeated this phrase I’d be dead due to liver failure. He is absolutely stunned. And I’m pretty sure he hasn’t blinked at all. Who am I to talk - I haven’t either. These mountains keep getting prettier and prettier, I swear. Taking my eyes off them would be a crime.

“Told you. I wish we made a bet, I could’ve made some easy money.“ I tease him, gently bumping my elbow against his as we walk up the trail.

“I’m glad I didn’t propose such a thing. That would’ve been fucking stupid of me.“ Judging by the tone of his voice, he is not really present in this conversation, so I decide not to let it go on any longer.

Not that I could’ve done differently, seeing as how barely three seconds latter I see three smiling faces coming at me at max speed.

Oh boy.

“Auntie Y/N!“ Ashley and Alex arrive first of course, wrapping their arms tightly around my waist. Little Andrew stumbles his way to me as quickly as a three year old possibly could.

Without wasting a second, I put my bags down and crouch so I can hug them properly. “Hi my babies! I haven’t seen you in so long.” Their hugging strength surprises me and warms my heart at the same time. The twins pull away, leaving room for the little duckling in a jacket two times his size and weight. “Hi Andrew! I nice to meet you! I’m auntie Y/N. Mommy and daddy have told you about me, haven’t they? If not I’ll kick their asses.”

“Y/N, I swear, I’ll tell Amy you’re teaching her kids swears at a very early age.“ Corpse says teasingly, stealing the attention from all four of us.

“She curses like a sailor, these kids probably know more swear words than I do.“ Ash and Alex run straight out of my grasp and to Corpse, proceeding to hug him around the waist as they did with me. They met Corpse when my sister and her husband Finn visited me back in the summer. They immediately fell in love with him. I specifically remember Alex telling me I have a ‘really cool boyfriend‘ and he only uses the word ‘cool‘ when he really likes something or someone. Corpse was honorably declared cool by Alex and that still warms my heart till this day.

“Hi guys, long time no see!“ He too crouches down to hug the little demons that immediately cling to him like koalas.

I scoop up the bundle of clothes with a face and stand up, balancing him on my hip. “Let’s attempt to get inside, shall we?” With my unoccupied arm I grab the handle of my suitcase.

Corpse nods and follows my lead, picking up the bags he also left in the snow. Ash and Alex bolt it back to the house while we struggle to follow, lowkey embarrassed by the pace we’re walking with.

Andrew struggles against me, reaching out towards Corpse. I look at them both apologetically. “You’ll meet Corpse when we get inside, darling. Chill out.”

“Y/N!“ My sister’s voice steals my attention. She emerges from the house, followed by the twins, a huge smile on her face. Her eyes land on Andrew who has calmed down is now resting his head on my shoulder sleepily, “Oh I’m so sorry about them, Y/N. I didn’t know they would charge at you the second you stepped foot on the property.“

Amy motions for me to give her her son but I hand her my suitcase instead. When she takes it I use my now freed arm to hug her as tightly as I possibly can with one arm and while balancing a baby on my chest. “It’s ok! I couldn’t have dreamed of a better welcoming.” I release, giving her a big smile.

She loses interest in me and goes to hug Corpse, taking a bag from him as well before giving him a hug. “Oh my God, Corpse, it feels like it’s been forever. I’m so glad to see you.”

“Happy to see you too, Amy.“ My sister has never liked a single guy I’ve dated. EVER. Corpse is the only one she warmed up to and that’s a huge deal to me. Corpse’s happiness when I told him that was something I’d pay to have filmed just so I can watch it every time I’m feeling down.

“Let’s get you both inside, you must be freez-“ She cuts herself off, rolling her eyes at me, “Of course, you’re not.“

I laugh and blow her a kiss as we keep carrying onward.

“Um, guys?“ Corpse’s voice makes me pause and turn around. He’s still standing in the same spot, looking- unsettled, I guess you could call it.

“What’s wrong?“ I walk over to him, taking his hand in mine.

His hand automatically gives mine a reassuring squeeze, “Nothing really, it’s just that...I’m meeting your parents for the first time and-...What if they don’t like me?”

I open my mouth to go off and start stating the obvious that they indeed won’t like him. They will LOVE him. It’s impossible not to love this man! But my sister beats me to it when it comes to stating the facts.

“Look, Corpse, they already love you. Heck, sometimes I feel like they have known Finn and you longer than they have known Y/N and I! They speak so highly of you and haven’t even met you - that should tell you more than enough about how they see you.“ She waves her hand towards the cottage, “Now walk in there and blow them away.“

Honestly, I’m glad Amy beat me to it. I couldn’t have said it better myself. 

And just like that, hand in hand, Andrew still in my other arm, we walk in.

                                                             *  *  *

Corpse is officially the main attraction, stealing the spotlight from Amy, Finn and I - something the three of us are incredibly thankful for. Amy was right with every word she said - my parents are absolutely in love with Corpse. Luckily for Finn and Amy, the 3 As are all over him as well. Especially Andrew. The second someone sets him down he just waddles his way over to Corpse who picks him up and settles him in his lap while he answers my parents’ questions. 

When the kids were finally talked into taking a nap, Corpse and I snuck out to have a little walk in the snow and, of course, take some pictures. I made it my personal goal to make as many artsy and aesthetic photos of him as possible. His favorite - a hand only pic of him holding a snowball - was my idea and I think I have never felt prouder of myself.

“I am definitely posting this one.“ He says, turning the phone so I can see the screen. I give it a quick glance, thinking he’s talking about the hand pic but do a double take when I realize it’s a picture of me that he has taken without my knowledge.

I actually look rather decent, so I give him a green light in the form of a big thumbs up, “As long as you post the hand one too.”

“Hey, Y/N!“ We look back at the house which isn’t far from where we are right now. Amy is hugging the jacket tightly around herself as she approaches us with fast steps. “You know where we haven’t been in like forever?“

I raise an eyebrow and shake my head as I rack through my brain trying to dig up what she’s referring to. It could literally be any place on this mountain!

“Hello! The Waterless Lake? Ring any bells?“

Oh...it sure does.

Brief explanation: it is a huge circular dip in the ground which fills with water when the snow melts and becomes a lake but empties by the time winter comes back around. That being said, when the snow is still not melted, it’s an absolute wonderland to play in. I suddenly remember all the barrel-rolling Amy and I did there as kids and feel really nostalgic.

“Oh God, yes! I miss that place!“ I say, snapping out of my reminiscing trance. “Let’s go while it’s still light enough.”

“Finn is making dinner right now, or trying to at least.“ She rolls her eyes, turning to Corpse, “But it’d be our pleasure if you tagged along, Corpse.“

Corpse shakes his head, “I’ll politely decline. You ladies can reminisce and chat in peace, while I’ll be helping Finn in the kitchen.” He gives me a quick peck on the lips before excusing himself, “Have fun!”

“You too!“ We call back to him in unison.

Amy gives me an amazed, wide-eyed look, “He can cook?”

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly, smirking, “Oh, you have no idea.”

She laughs, linking arms with me as we begin walking our way to the Waterless Lake. The place probably has a different name or no name at all, but we named it that as kids and never told our parents where it was. It’s our spot, and it is very surprising Amy offered Corpse to accompany us there.

“Sis, you are very lucky. I hope you know that.“ She tightens the hold on my arm with hers, pulling us closer together.

“I tell myself that every time I look at him, Aims. I am fully aware.“ I say dreamily, recalling all the times I’ve spent with Corpse. Almost one full year and I could never imagine that year, nor the upcoming ones, without him.

                                                                *  *  *

Upon returning, we’re met with the most wholesome scene I have ever seen - Corpse and Finn are making snowmen with the 3 As. It seems like they’ve been at it for a while, considering there is an army of snowmen of different designs, shapes and sizes all at different spots throughout the perimeter of the clearing in front of the house.

“Oh dear Lord.“ Amy mumbles, “I had a feeling this would happen.“

The five snowman-builders don’t even acknowledge our presence when we approach them. Ashley and Alex are running around with Finn, looking for sticks to use as the snowmen’s limbs while Corpse is helping Andrew gather as much snow as possible for the body.

I don’t realize there’s a huge smile on my face up until the point I’m trying to say something. Nothing comes out, though. My words are being muffled by all the overwhelming emotions that have taken over - collapsing my senses. 

With a roll of her eyes, my sister opens the front door, taking a step into the house. The second the door opens, however, I get a whiff of the delicious smell coming from inside. Best guess, and probably the right one - this is Corpse’s doing. 

If I wasn’t already hungry, I sure as hell am now and I’m in no mood to be in that delicious food’s proximity without attacking it. 

“Come on, guys! Dinner time! Get your butts inside!“ I call out to them from the doorway.

Corpse turns to look at me with the sneakiest smirk I have ever seen. He narrows his eyes at me, “You have done the very thing you despise!”

It takes me approximately three seconds to connect the dots and scrunch up my face, picking up all the snow I can an forming it in a snow ball, throwing it at Corpse. Growing up doing this exact thing has given me great aim, therefore I hit Corpse square in the chest.

“Oh you’re so in for it now.“ He laughs, picking up snow to form his own snowball.

“Snowball fight!“ Ashley yells, ditching the sticks to make a snowball for herself.

“Oh no...“ I poke my head in the hallway just as a snowball hits my upper arm, “Aims, I need your help!“ 

Before Amy can respond, I run to take cover behind the nearest snowman that, luckily for me happens to be one of the larger ones. I hear Amy call out my name when she exits the house, followed by a surprised yelp from her when three snowballs hit her. “You are all dead!”

While she is fighting blood and fire (well, water really), I am making ammunition for us both to use. I’m on my eleventh snowball when snow showers me from above as though it has fallen from a tree branch.

“Hiding, I see.“ I am still in shock, hair and upper body covered in snow, when I hear Corpse’s taunting voice.

My vengeance instinct kicks in having me grab two snowballs and turn to throw them at him. To my dismay, he’s faster then me and doesn’t allow me to even get my arm at an angle where I could throw properly. Instead, he turns me back around and picks me up with ease, one arm wrapped around my waist, another grabbing two of my prepared snowballs from the ground.

“Let’s show them who the bosses are.“ I see him wink at me from the corner of my eye and it takes me little to no time to catch onto what he’s insinuating.

In short, with joined forces, we took out the opposite team in no time - like a true couple 😉

[ladyfiresfanfiction]

Flying the Nest - One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest Fic - Chapter One

I’ve had this fic percolating in my brain for about four months and I am now just letting it flow. I hope you guys will like it! Please let me know what you all think. I’m a bit rusty haha, so I hope I don’t suck! Chapter One under the cut. Chapter two will be posted tomorrow!

I am standing shakily in the hallway of a whitewashed building. Ahead is rows and rows of rooms, art and photography and pamphlets adorn the walls. But I am staring with utmost fascination at the black and white and brownish designs of the tiled floor. Snapped back to the unpleasant present by a nurse not much older than I, I'm guided through heavy white double doors into what I would usually call the Room of Hell; a peer counseling room or area in multiple buildings I have become well acquainted with in the last eighteen months.

To my surprise, I am met with familiar blue-green eyes and a face turning ashen with shock upon seeing me. My older brother, Mac.

"Baby Jane? What the hell are you doing here?" Mac asks in his gruff yet gravelly voice. I shrug, forcing a slight smile as he walks toward me, against the wishes of the bitchy looking blonde nurse seated less than one hundred yards ahead of me and envelopes me in his infamous bear hugs I had missed greatly. I found myself holding tightly to my brother's arms, afraid that if I were to let go, I would break into pieces in the middle of the room that would soon become my greatest fear and biggest location of loathing.

"Alright, Mister McMurphy, let your sister go now, thank you. And Miss McMurphy, please take the empty seat right here, between your brother and Mister Bibbit. Thank you. My name is Nurse Ratchet, welcome to our home of healing." The nurse said as I took my seat. As I sat down, my eyes locked onto the bluest eyes I have ever seen, so much so that my heart skipped a beat.

"Ah, yes," Mac laughed as my cheeks turned a light pink. "This is the man of the hour, Janie. His name is-" "M-m-m-my name is-i-is b-bi-b-Billy." The beautiful boy with gorgeous blue eyes stammered. "I-it-its nice to m-m-meet you, Miss." He finished with a shy smile.

Before I could utter a reply to Billy, I was interrupted.

"Miss Jane McMurphy? Come with me, please." The resident doctor, named Doctor Spivey. My heart started hammering in my chest as I reflexively grabbed Mac's hand. Doctor Spivey was a reserved yet kind-looking man as he waited patiently in the doorway, noticing the apprehension on my face. Mac patted my shoulder with encouragement as he nodded towards Spivey.

"I'm just a couple of rooms away, Janie. He's a nice doc. Go on, now, and I'll give ya a tour when you're back." Mac said in a low voice, nodding toward the waiting doctor. I let go of his hand as I stood up and slowly walked towards Spivey. He waved his hand toward the left corridor and said the admissions room was on the left. I whispered something I couldn't even hear and walked slowly as if the path I was taking was going straight to the gates of the Underworld. Doctor Spivey walked a couple of paces behind me, guiding me to the right room, or possibly making sure I didn't try to bolt to the entrance door about fifty steps from his office.

As we made it into the office, he waved his hand toward a comfortable-looking brown leather chair behind a large mahogany desk. It had a manilla envelope with what could be mistaken as someone's novel manuscript but was actually my medical history and doctor's notes from past mental hospital and emergency room stays since July of '61, nearly two years ago.

"Make yourself at home, Miss McMurphy," Doctor Spivey began as he took his seat in a large-looking leather desk chair that matched his massive desk. He peered over my notes, tsking at some parts while his sparse salt-and-pepper-colored eyebrows shot up at other areas of my history. When he finally looked at me, I felt my stomach lurch and the room became unbearably hot. I knew I was in the middle of a raging panic attack, but I tried to keep on my Pokerface in fear of what might happen if I started to become undone.

"Well now, Miss McMurphy. Says here you are about to turn twenty-two years of age and were a junior in college. What uh, brings you here?" He asked, softly. "My... ex-fiance, he killed himself almost two years ago. I had also been dealing with physical health setbacks and was falling behind in classes on top of his untimely death. I just... Couldn't handle it anymore." I replied while my voice was barely above a whisper. "I see. It also says here you've overdosed on opium and cocaine, as well as gotten alcohol poisoning a few times. Is that right?" He asked, his eyes boring into me over thick black spectacles. "Well, like I said, I wasn't handling Charles's death... well... And I have been in and out of the hospital since my freshman year of high school. I just wanted everything to stop." I replied in a flat tone. "Your brother wasn't around much, I see. He had no idea you were in this much emotional distress? And what of your parents?" The doctor asked, watching me closely.

I could feel my forehead begin to prickle with droplets of sweat and my knuckles turned white as I gripped the wood arms of the chair. I tried to gather my thoughts so I could talk in a more rational way, but my throat kept closing and opening, and my eyes began to fill with white-hot tears anytime I opened my mouth, which caused me to shut it and open it a number of times.

"We're more than happy to keep you on as a patient in our ward. I feel you could benefit from our help and could leave quite possibly around the time your brother does We offer services to get you back on your feet once you feel comfortable and safe enough on your own. There is a ladies ward a floor right above the men. You are welcome to visit your brother in the daytime, but we do have strict rules about nightly visits and no, um, congregating with the male patients here.  We have activities as well as counseling to help when things are rough. I need to finish looking over your medical history and we will see what we can give you to help with these night terrors and panic attacks. I'll take you back to Nurse Ratched now, she or Mac can take you to the second floor or give you a tour of our ward. If you have any questions please let me know. You can always let Nurse Ratched or the other nurses know when you need to speak with me. I usually meet with my patients once a week in the morning.

It was a lot to take in, but I nodded, only half-listening. So far this was still a voluntary thing and I could leave whenever I wished. However, now that I knew Mac was here, I was thinking of waiting until he left with me. I didn't trust myself alone anymore. And I couldn't get that beautiful blue-eyed boy out of my head. Charles always said he would send me people when I needed them most and he couldn't be there for me. I was beginning to wonder if he sent me to Oregon State Hospital, and brought me back to my long-lost brother. As I walked back into the Room of Hell, facing who I was sure was Satan's wife, I smiled half-condescendingly to her and made my way to Mac, ready to see where I would be staying for at least the next month, or longer.

"Ready to tell me what the hell is going on and why you haven't called me, Janie?" Mac asked, looking concerned. "Yeah, let's talk while we explore this house full of nuts," I smirked, making Mac laugh. "Okay then. Let's start from the beginning, shall we?" He asked, extending his arm to me. "It's not pretty, but I'm sure this place isn't so pretty either," I replied, placing my hand on his arm as we began to walk towards the front of the building. "Something tells me your story isn't that pretty either, sister. Now start talking."

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“Close” - A Streetlight Sequel

F/M Pairing: OC x Seo Changbin (SKZ)

Warnings: Soft!Dom Changbin; Light Smut?; Language

Genre: Family AU; Streetlight Sequel

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: She’s like a a new world waiting to be discovered, and Changbin wants to know everything about her. But maybe they could start by moving in together with the rest of his family.

A/N: As you can tell by the song choice title, this is a much more upbeat story! But I love the lyrics that Han wrote 💙

Also, I don’t know what’s up with the gif I chose, but I like it, okay!

On Sundays, Changbin had the rare honor of sleeping through his usual alarm clock - and he decided that noon was an appropriate time to wake-up when his hunger eventually got the best of him. But it was still with great reluctance that he drug himself into the shower, standing beneath the scalding water with his eyes closed to savor the warmth. Ever since Chan replaced the hot water heater, Changbin had done everything in his power to savor the welcoming change.

Afterward, he walked downstairs to greet Jeongin and Y/N who were both sitting at the kitchen table while engaged in a fierce game of battleship. “Hey, you two,” Changbin said, grabbing a piece of toast from a platter on the counter. “What’s going on?”

“A bet,” Y/N said, leaning in across the table to glare at Jeongin. “But he’s cheating.”

“Am not!” Jeongin decried, slamming his hand down on the table. “How can you cheat at this game?”

“Shall I list it out for you?” Y/N asked, and Changbin smirked at her competitive tone.

“Please don’t do anything crazy while I’m gone,” Changbin said, ruffling Y/N’s hair on his way out the door.

He passed by Chan and Minho who were both out on the porch as the two of them studied the broken swing that laid in shambles after Jisung attempted to use it for nefarious purposes. “Should we even bother replacing it?” Chan asked while Minho attempted to adjust the chain with no luck.

“If you do, then Jisung isn’t allowed anywhere near it,” Changbin remarked, looking over the sad remnants of the swing one last time before walking to the SUV waiting in the driveway.

He was only working a short shift that morning, and there was some relief in knowing that he wouldn’t have to deal with persistent customers for longer than a couple of hours. Changbin was convinced that most people simply complained for the hell of it, especially considering the fact that their questions almost always concerned trivial matters. But at least he had gotten better at managing his expressions - doing his best not to betray his annoyance.

There was also something else for Changbin to look forward to this weekend, and it had motivated him more than anything else for the past week: Sara was moving in with the rest of them, and Changbin would no longer have to make special trips out of his way to visit her apartment on the other side of town. It was enough for Changbin to get through anything that might come his way, and he even offered to help one customer carry their packages to their car even though that went above and beyond his current job description. “Thanks for coming,” he told the woman who simply grunted in response.

However, nothing could ruin Changbin’s good mood, especially when he received a surprising visitor during his lunch break. “Hey, you,” he said, greeting Sara with a gentle kiss when she brought them something to eat.

“It’s not much,” she admitted sheepishly, but Changbin was touched regardless. He even made a big show of enjoying the meager offering, keeping their fingers intertwined across the table as Sara talked about one of her most recent projects.

It was decidedly domestic, and Changbin couldn’t wait until he got this on a regular basis. Ever since he met Sara for the first time, he had felt this peculiar insistence to learn everything about her - even the most insignificant details. Because they all mattered to him, and he was slowly falling into an endless void where there never seemed to be enough answers to the constant questions.

“I love you,” Changbin whispered against her sweet lips as they kissed outside in the parking lot. It had only taken Changbin one month into their relationship to admit his truest feelings, and he was relieved to hear Sara reciprocate since he was very much aware that some might consider that much too early to declare such things. And maybe Changbin had never been in love enough to really understand what it meant, but he was willing to take the risk with Sara to figure it out. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” Sara said from the window of her car, and Changbin watched her leave before he re-entered the post office with a renewed enthusiasm to leave on time that day.

The next day

When Changbin woke-up that Friday morning, he was momentarily disoriented before he remembered that he had spent the night in Sara’s apartment. He turned his head to the side to admire her sleeping form, grinning at the hold she maintained on his arm as she held him close. Changbin had learned that Sara liked to wrap around him during the night, and it was nothing short of endearing.

But it was also hot in the bedroom, and Changbin gently extracted their limbs before rolling over to the edge of the bed. He ran a hand over his exhausted face before reaching over for his phone. There were a few messages from Chan, but Changbin figured the older was trying to ask his opinion on a new wall paint color.

Instead, Changbin forced himself to leave the comforts of the bedroom for the kitchen where he started making a fresh pot of coffee. Since they were officially moving all of Sara’s things into the house, Changbin wanted to make sure that they got an early start. Based on the number of boxes currently stacked in her living room, it wouldn't be a simple endeavor, and Changbin imagined that it would be well past sundown before everything was finished.

“Good morning.”

Changbin grinned when he reached for two mugs out of the cabinet, spotting Sara emerging from her bedroom with a yawn. “I made us something,” Changbin said, pouring a cup for Sara and placing it down at her spot near the counter.

“Thanks,” she said. “You didn’t have to.”

“I think we both need it for today,” Changbin said with a smile, brushing a soft kiss across the pout of her lips.

“Ugh, it’s not that I’m not excited,” Sara said. “But I’m also not impressed with the idea of dragging all my shit in the cars.”

“That’s what you have me for,” Changbin said with a wink, carefully rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to flex his bicep.

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Sara teased him, squealing in delight when Changbin retaliated by pulling her into his lap.

“It’s your last day in this place,” Changbin remarked, humming in delight when Sara made herself comfortable against his chest. 

“It’s also our third month anniversary,” Sara revealed to him, and Changbin arched an eyebrow in consideration.

“Should we have chosen a different day to move?” 

“Actually, I think it’s perfect that we’re doing it today,” Sara said. “What does the rest of your family think?”

“I guess it’s something different,” Changbin said. “They might ask you a thousand questions.” Changbin rolled his eyes at the idea of their antics, but Sara didn’t seem at all bothered by the possibility.

“Is everyone at home?”

“Minho and Chan will be late,” Changbin said. “They couldn’t afford to take the day off from work.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Sara said. “We’ll manage with our limited options.”

Changbin chuckled, reaching out with one hand to grab his coffee cup, wondering if he’d ever get used to mornings like this with the person he loved. Would anything change after they moved in together? “I want you to know that you can always come to me,” Changbin said. “My family can be a handful, and I’m not gonna be offended or anything if they get on your nerves.”

“Changbin,” Sara said, tilting his head to the side to meet her steady gaze. “Everything will be fine.”

Changbin nodded, leaning in for another kiss because there was no better way to reassure himself than by tasting the sweet chap-stick on her lips.

Graciously, the weather was mild when Changbin and Sara pulled into the driveway outside of his house, and Changbin rolled his eyes to see everyone already gathered on the front line in a perfect formation - like they were soldiers awaiting orders. “You’re late,” Hyunjin said, impatiently tapping his foot against the grass.

“Thanks for the reminder,” Changbin said, shutting the door to his SUV as he went around to open the trunk. 

“She’s here!” Jisung gasped, and Changbin winced as he imagined his younger friend bombarding Sara with his endless chattering.

“Be nice,” Changbin warned him, and he started arranging boxes on the sidewalk - pleased to see Y/N take control of the situation and grab two of them between her arms before walking towards the house.

The others followed suit, even though Jisung was keeping a close eye on Sara who stretched her arms once she opened the door of her car. “Welcome home,” Changbin said, but he immediately regretted the words when he recognized how cheesy they sounded.

But Sara only laughed in response. “I see you’ve already ordered everyone to start working.”

“It’s no big deal,” Jisung chirped, even as he fumbled back against the side of Changbin’s SUV under the weight of the boxes he was balancing.

Thankfully, Jisung managed to find his footing long enough to adjust his heavy load, rushing into the house behind Seungmin while Y/N walked back outside. In the brief amount of time that Sara had been apart of his life, he was amazed to see how close the two had become. It all started when Changbin agreed to entertain Y/N’s suggestion of a double date with Minho, and Changbin was completely unprepared to discover that Sara and Y/N had a lot more in common than he initially perceived. They talked for the entirety of their dinner reservations, and Y/N insisted on riding home with Changbin and Sara even though Minho wasn’t happy to lose her company.

Nevertheless, it also made Changbin incredibly happy to see the two of them getting along so well, and Sara opened her arms wide for an eager Y/N who returned the embrace with a smile. “How’s school?” Sara asked when she pulled back.

“I’m glad that I get to graduate at the end of the month,” Y/N said, glancing back at the pile of Sara’s boxes with a curious expression. “What’s in this one?” Y/N asked, pointing at a box labeled VHS.

“I always forget that you’re younger than me.” Sara laughed before explaining to a puzzled Y/N about the concept of VHS films from the 1990s.

Meanwhile, Changbin could hear Jeongin whining about something to Seungmin, and he frowned when he noticed that Jeongin was sauntering back to the house without any boxes. Changbin decided that it was best to figure out why one of his helpers had already abandoned their duties, and he crossed his arms over his chest when he caught up to Jeongin. “Why are you moping around?” 

“Changbin, I’m hungry! We skipped lunch because we thought you were coming earlier,” Jeongin replied, and he sat right down on the porch steps as if there weren’t several more boxes to carry inside. “Hey!” he cried when Hyunjin knocked him on the back of the head while walking down the steps. 

“Hyunjin, don’t do that,” Changbin said, looking back at Jeongin with a sigh. “We can eat after everything’s moved inside.”

“But that could take all day,” Jeongin pointed out, and Changbin reluctantly agreed to call in a pizza so that Jeongin could quickly recuperate and help with the remainder of Sara’s belongings. 

Of course, he didn’t anticipate everyone stopping when the pizza arrived, and most of the boys crowded together on the front porch while eating and chatting away like they didn’t have unfinished work waiting for them in the driveway. “I think you’re all just lazy,” Changbin grumbled when he navigated around the maze of drinks on his way inside with another set of boxes.

“You expect me to drag those heavy ass boxes around when I’ve got cheese pizza right here?” Jisung asked with an incredulous tone that it made it seem like Changbin had just proposed something entirely preposterous. 

“That was part of our deal!” Changbin exclaimed. “Unless you want me to stop bringing home your snacks?”

“You always get the wrong brand anyway,” Jisung dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and Changbin fought hard to remain composed. 

At least Y/N was still working diligently, talking to Sara like she had been saving up on topics all week for them to discuss. But Changbin didn’t mind their easygoing conversation, and he wished that the other boys had as much desire to help Sara like Y/N. Of course, Chan should also be home soon, and he wouldn’t tolerate everyone else dawdling around on the staircase when there was still a lot to drag inside the house before nightfall.

And Changbin’s observation proved entirely accurate when Chan parked his car on the side of the street - marching across the yard to where Jisung noticed his approach and immediately abandoned the others to rush inside. “Oi,” Chan said, pausing as he examined the mess that had been left behind. “We don’t have time to sit around all day!”

“It was just a break,” Hyunjin said, but he cowered away at the look in Chan’s eyes and both Jeongin and Seungmin started to shove all of their trash inside the pizza box.

From there, Minho’s eventual arrival gave them a much-needed boost to organize everything into Changbin’s upstairs bedroom, and Changbin was pleasantly surprised to realize that it was only 5:00 by the time they were finished. “I’ve already had to change my clothes twice!” Hyunjin complained to Felix who merely nodded his head as he drank from his soda can.

“One day of manual labor won’t break you,” Chan said, opening the door for Hyunjin who was still moping about the condition of his hair. 

“I think that went well,” Sara remarked from where she was leaning against the side of her car next to Y/N. “You did good, babe,” she added, offering Changbin a gentle kiss which he willingly accepted. 

“I think we worked the hardest,” Y/N said.  

“Maybe we should go for a drive,” Sara suggested. “You want to come, Y/N?”

“Sure!” Y/N said, and she was already calling dibs on the front seat of Changbin’s SUV. 

“Are you sure?” Changbin asked, sending Sara a questionable look. “We can always relax in our room.”

“It’s fine,” Sara said with a nod. “We can go get a snack or something.”

“Okay...” Changbin said, giving Sara another lingering moment to change her mind until she opened the back door of the SUV.

Changbin shrugged his shoulders and situated himself behind the wheel, grinning at Y/N who was already using the car’s bluetooth feature to play her favorite music to fill the silence agreeably as they started down the road at a moderate speed.

They only drove a few miles before Sara pointed out a small diner that she insisted was one of her favorites. But Changbin wasn’t entirely convinced based on the spare amount of cars surrounding the somewhat fading exterior of the restaurant. Still, Changbin parked outside of the local diner and observed the building with suspicion. “This looks questionable.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sara said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “We can grab something quick before we go home.”

“That sounds nice,” Changbin conceded, and he also couldn't ignore the fact that his heart had skipped a beat because it was lovely to hear Sara claim his precious Haven as her new home.

However, they were only inside the restaurant for an hour before Y/N received a suspicious text upon which she insisted that they needed to leave. In response, Changbin glanced over at her with a mouthful of french fries that he had been sharing with Sara. “Is something wrong?”

“N-no,” Y/N stuttered, which she only ever did when she was nervous. But what did Y/N have to be so nervous about?

“We can stay until everyone’s done,” Changbin said, but he noticed Sara and Y/N exchanging a quick nod from the corner of his eye.

“It’s alright,” Sara said. “I think we’re all ready.”

Changbin was slow to process the sudden change in their demeanor - altering quickly from complacent to urgent right before his very eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked, but Sara was already dragging them both out of the booth while Y/N walked ahead to take care of their bill at the register.

“Thank you for this, Binnie,” Sara said, and Changbin’s suspicions instantly melted away at the sweet nickname.

“You can thank me later,” Changbin flirted in return - leaning in for a kiss that was interrupted by Y/N who was urging them into the car.

“Come on, let’s go,” she said - making it very clear that she wasn’t in the mood to linger around in the parking lot. 

But Changbin decided not to question Y/N’s strange behavior - maybe she was picking up on bad habits from Minho. In any case, it was better to let things go because both Sara and Y/N seemed more relaxed during the accumulating mileage back to the house. They listened to Y/N’s eclectic mixture of music on her phone and talked about how much work they still had to do when they organized Sara’s things into the available space in Changbin’s room.

“Maybe you can build like a storage building out back for the stuff you don’t need,” Y/N suggested, and Changbin grimaced at the thought of all the work required to build something like that.

“Oh! That’s a great idea, Changbin,” Sara said, and Changbin sighed but nodded his head regardless.

The topic in question filled up most of their conversation for the duration of the drive, ending abruptly when Changbin parked along the sidewalk and frowned when he noticed an unusual absence of his housemates. “Where is everyone?” Changbin wondered aloud, groaning in complaint when Y/N rushed to his side and practically drug him out of the SUV.

“Follow me,” she said in a conspiratorial tone.

“What’s going on?” Changbin demanded because both Y/N and Sara were giggling and he was feeling increasingly left out of their plans.

“You’ll love it, Changbin,” Y/N insisted when they walked inside the house, and she lead everyone to the back porch, pulling open the door in grand fashion. “Ta-da!”

At first, Changbin wasn’t sure why Y/N was making a big deal out their simple backyard. But then, he wagered a step outside, and he paused when he finally realized what Y/N had meant. Because, instead of their usual bland set-up, everything had been drastically transformed, and all of his family members were waiting with enormous smiles.

“Surprise!” Jeongin shouted, clapping his hands together in delight as he gestured at the decorations - balloons and streamers, glittery tablecloths, aromatic food dishes, and even a fire-pit in the middle of the grass.

Changbin’s mouth was practically dragging the ground at this point as he observed the elaborate display. “What’s all this about?” he asked, holding out an arm when Sara glued herself to his side.

“It’s for our anniversary,” Sara said. “They helped me get this ready!”

“Really?” Changbin laughed because it had definitely taken him by surprise. But it was a sincere gesture that spoke to his heart.

“It’s a surprise, dude,” Jisung said from where he was already helping himself to the candy bowls on the table.

“I can tell you worked hard,” Changbin said, but he decided that it was one of the nicest things that he had seen. 

“Just enjoy yourself, baby,” Sara said, pulling him along as Y/N flitted away into Minho’s arms.

“Is this why you drug me to that restaurant?” Changbin asked as he sat down across from Jisung.

“I had to give them some time to get everything ready,” Sara said, nuzzling closer into Changbin’s neck.

“Man, you should’ve seen the look on your face!” Jisung exclaimed with a laugh.

In return, Changbin narrowed his eyes playfully. “Now, I’m definitely not bringing home your snacks.”

“Changbin,” Sara said, drawing his attention into the endless constellations which had formed from the flecks of gold in her brown irises.

“Whatever, but Changbin,” Jisung said, interrupting their intense staring contest. “The snacks were never real.”

“You little shit!”

It was late when Changbin and Sara were finally able to escape into the solace of their bedroom. Despite the exhaustion that he felt from the day’s events, Changbin was still quick to trap her between his arms against the door - connecting their lips in an all-consuming kiss. Sara sighed in contentment, and Changbin was absolutely delighted by the sweet sound. 

“Is this a sign, Changbin?” she asked, pulling away so that they could both catch their breath. “Are you gonna have your way with me tonight?”

“If you’ll let me,” Changbin replied - studying the sensual pools of her eyes as he leaned in to feather a kiss across her flushed cheeks. 

“On the bed,” Sara requested, and Changbin held her tight as they both navigated the intricate maze of Sara’s boxes which were loitered across the floor of their room.

Changbin was careful when he laid her down on the mattress, watching as she removed her t-shirt and jeans before he decided to do the same. “You’re beautiful,” Changbin told her earnestly, smirking at the way she turned to the side in embarrassment. “I’m serious,” Changbin added as he moved on top. “You know that, right?”    

Sara managed a nod this time, and Changbin left a kiss across her forehead. Changbin was gentle because he loomed over Sara with broad shoulders and defined muscles while she was all delicate form and features that deserved to be treated with respect. Yet, at the back of his mind, Changbin couldn’t help but want to order around someone who always acted so meek and submissive. “Touch yourself for me,” Changbin said, and his voice was deeper and more commanding than his usual tone. 

Sara moaned at his words, but she spread her legs and circled her fingers around her clitoris. It was an obscene sight, and Changbin could watch this all day - stroking his cock in time with the slow penetration of her fingers inside her wet opening. “Changbin, please,” she whined, looking up at him with tear-stained eyes.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” Changbin said, reaching down to wipe away the salty evidence. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Please touch me,” Sara said, and Changbin was more than happy to oblige - replacing her fingers with his own and crooking them up in search of the elusive g-spot that would surely bring her the most pleasure. He also focused on stretching her out - ensuring that she would be ready to take his cock which hung heavy between his legs.

“How good does it feel?” Changbin asked, thrusting his fingers to mimic the same effect of his cock.

“It feels so good,” Sara said, and her hands reached out to grab his shoulders, holding him close so that she could connect their lips in a messy kiss that was satisfying nonetheless.

“I’m gonna use my cock now,” Changbin said, and he pulled out his fingers and brushed them across her lips. “Taste yourself.”

Sara nodded, opening her mouth and allowing Changbin to stick his fingers inside, groaning low in his throat when her tongue moved between each digit. “Such a good girl,” he said, aligning the tip of his erection with her swollen pussy. “Don’t keep those noises to yourself, sweetheart,” he said, and Sara was already moaning before he was even buried to the hilt - and her tight walls clung almost desperately to his erection as if ensuring that he couldn’t pull back out.

“God, you’re big,” Sara said, and Changbin allowed the compliment to feed his ego, pulling back out to just the tip before snapping his hips and plunging into the familiar embrace of her heat. “Changbin!” Sara cried, and Changbin froze for a moment before glancing at his door - remembering that he shared this place with his other roommates.

“You gotta be quiet,” he said, and Sara looked at him like he was making an impossible request. But he found it endearing nonetheless, reaching back for her discarded panties. “Use these,” he said, and Sara reluctantly allowed him to push them into her mouth. 

Thereafter, Changbin felt more confident in himself, and he braced most of weight onto his forearms because it allowed him to penetrate his girlfriend in long, full strokes that had him reaching places deep inside that he was certain he had never accessed before. But it only spurred him to go even faster, and he was entranced by the image of Sara’s breasts moving in time to each successive thrust as he started to chase his own high.

He could tell when Sara came because he knew her signs by heart - the way her breath would hitch around a moan, and how she always closed her eyes while arching her back into the air. She was left panting and overstimulated while Changbin picked up the pace, driving his hips in thunderous grinds while feeling his entire body tip over the edge.

He eventually came like that - grunting into Sara’s shoulders as his hips gave a few more feeble rolls before stopping as his cum ran down her thighs. “What a mess,” Changbin remarked, chest heaving up and down as he removed the makeshift gag from Sara’s mouth - studying his girlfriend who looked seconds away from completely drifting off. “Are you okay?” he asked, moving onto his side and holding her close.

“I think you just sent me into the next dimension,” Sara remarked, and Changbin chuckled at the hyperbole.

“That was the idea,” he said, wrapping one arm around her waist as he pulled her tight to his overheated chest. “It wasn’t too much, right? I didn’t mean to force you to do anything.”

“I like when you take charge, but it wasn’t fun to have my underwear in my mouth, though,” Sara said, but she was smiling when she turned around to look at Changbin from over her shoulder. “Maybe we should consider installing sound-proof walls?”

“Now, there’s an idea,” Changbin said, and he could feel his eyelids grow heavier with the weight of his exhaustion. “The party was great, by the way. I can’t believe you did that for me.”

“There’s not a lot that I wouldn’t do for you,” Sara told him sweetly, and Changbin could feel his entire heart warming at the confession.

He closed his eyes and inhaled her sweet perfume - thanking whoever was watching over him that he had finally gotten his chance at finding his better half.

His soulmate.

[archadianskies]

Safety

Detroit: Become Family event (@dbh-found-family) Week two: Danger Safety (Week one: Home) → on Ao3

‘Safety’ is a foreign concept to most androids, since before deviancy androids had no sense of ‘self’ at all; androids, after all, were machines designed to accomplish a task. Privacy is also a foreign concept, given that they were under surveillance both physically and digitally at all times whether by their owner, by the public, by drones, or by CyberLife. 

Here, though, Connor has both safety and privacy in abundance. Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s house has been his residence since the revolution and the human has not only welcomed him into his abode but also into his life, into his family. He is Connor Anderson now, adopted son of  Hank Anderson, residence: 115 Michigan Drive, Detroit. He is no longer Connor RK800, the android sent by CyberLife.

A lot has changed since the night of November 5th when he found Hank at Jimmy’s Bar and bought him one for the road. The open hostility Hank displayed has turned to fondness and that certain type of parental anxiety that sees him perpetually worried over Connor’s well-being. Where once he viewed his body as an expendable vessel easily sacrificed for the good of the mission, no sense of ‘self’ to nurture, to cherish, to protect, now Connor knows there are no backups. CyberLife made sure of that. 

There is only one Connor Anderson, just as there is only one Hank Anderson, and if his positronic core were to be irreparably damaged then Connor Anderson would cease to be. It’s a difficult concept to come to terms with, one that made Hank laugh when he expressed such concerns, though not unkindly. ‘Gotta come to grips with mortality just like the rest of us’. ‘Us’, Hank said, and he’s right because deviancy makes an android’s personality unique and if they were to die, then their entire being would cease to be like a dying human would cease to be. Androids may be faster, stronger, smarter, with longevity manufactured into their bodies, but they too can die. Connor does not want to die.

Their job at the DPD is a dangerous one, and they are placed constantly in situations where the possibility of injury is high. The probability is significantly lower when they are at home. Connor is safer here, Hank is safer here. 

A house is a building, Hank told him, a home is where you live. It didn’t make much sense to Connor at first because this house is indeed where he lives so what makes it a home? A home, he learns, is filled with individuality. Everything in Hank’s home is a deliberate choice from the worn couch to the vinyl records to Sumo, to him. 

Humans like to be individuals, they strive to be unique, to differentiate themselves from each other but then there is the flipside where they find comfort in similarities. He is learning what those things are, and where they sit on the scale- whether a human would want something as a unique trait or if they would find solidarity with others who share such a thing. 

There are stickers on Hank’s dashboard, two scratched flags that manifest as other objects in his home- chipped enamel pins, faded shirts, frayed patches with crooked stitching on denim jackets with holes. Connor likes those, because he has likes and dislikes now. Hank gives him a grey shirt that says ‘nah’ but the ‘A’ has been replaced with the ace symbol from a suit of cards. It becomes Connor’s favourite.

He fills his room with things he likes, and doesn’t put his dislikes in the room because he can choose now. Like other androids with employment, he receives a wage and is slowly but steadily saving up for a proper aquarium for his future dwarf gourami. He has an ideal spot for it already, and has the model of the tank chosen as well as all the components that will help it run. He has several ideas on how to decorate the tank, and what life will populate it. It will take pride of place in his room, and he looks forward to its completion and the eventual introduction of his new, long-awaited roommate.

In his room is a closet, and in the closet are his clothes. There is no CyberLife uniform, there are no clothes with glowing blue markers because The American Androids Act of 2029 was negated with the passing of the Sentient Life Act on the 1st of December, 2038. His clothes and appearance are all his doing and he likes it. 

Actually, not entirely his doing, not yet anyway. That’s how he finds himself in front of the mirror in the bathroom, peering at his reflection framed by neon post-its. He still has his LED, and he intends to keep it because as Simon of the Jericho Four once said- they fought to be recognised as living beings, not human beings. 

His appearance was designed to ensure a harmonious integration with human colleagues, and invoke a sense of ease. He’s meant to look both friendly and open, but also serious and trustworthy. There are beauty spots on his face, planned imperfections to mimic human skin. Everything about him before deviancy was not his doing, and deviating from his default state was inconceivable.

Reaching up, he touches his hair and the unruly forelock that refuses to stay brushed back- another planned imperfection. He tugs it a little, rubbing the strands of nanoparticles between thumb and forefinger.

>Accessing RK800 aesthetics; hair

>>Brown (default)

>>Black

>>Blond

>>White  (unavailable for this model)

He cycles through the colour options, adjusting the shade to be lighter or darker just to see what he looks like. There’s no stark white option but he manages a sugar-blond that’s close enough. He tries the black and lightens it as far as it goes, ending up with a tonal grey. He can make the default brown turn russet, and it’s an interesting colour that brings out the peach tones in his skin. Letting his hair reset back to its regular brown, he tugs on his forelock again. It’s not the colour but the style he wants to change. 

>Accessing RK800 aesthetics; hair

>>Straight (default)

>>Waves

>>Curls

>>Shaved (unavailable for this model)

 Adding waves changes the thickness of his hair and unless he adjusts the length it doesn’t sit well without added styling. He swaps to curls and the forelock twists a little, the new style causing it to have a more pronounced arch. The little observation makes him smile and he tugs on the end only to have it spring back in place. 

“Shove it kiddo, I need to brush my teeth.” Hank grumbles, not bothering to hide his yawn as he shuffles into the bathroom. He blinks at Connor, a smile spreading on his sleepy face. “New look?”

“Well I-” Connor steps to the side to allow Hank to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste “I thought it was about time to change my appearance, seeing as you went to the barber’s last week for a haircut and trim for your beard.”

“Old mop had to go.” Hank shrugs before jamming the brush into his mouth and scrubbing vigorously. He reaches out with his other hand and musses Connor’s new curls, snorting back a laugh when Connor swats his hand. “Looks good.”

“You...think so?” Connor stands next to him, looking at his reflection, at their reflection in the mirror. Hank pauses in his brushing, nudging Connor with his elbow gently.

“Yeah kid, I do.”

*~*~*

His brother comes home late, and Hank had gone to bed hours ago leaving Connor to greet him some time nearing four in the morning. Their father will wake in three hours and they will join him in getting ready for the day but the RK units have never needed much sleep anyway. 

It’s been snowing for most of the week and that means for most of the week his brother’s tundra camouflage has remained active. He watches Ronan hang up his coat, watches the stark white of his hair darken and the pale hue of his skin take on a rosier colour as the warmth of their home deactivates the settings. 

Connor reaches for his hand and Ronan slides his palm to cup Connor’s nape, guiding him to lean in so he can bump their brows together. He learns of the day’s doings, of the androids and humans Ronan treated in his job as an emergency first responder, using hands that were originally programmed to kill to save lives now. He lets his brother learn of the day’s doings, of that case over at Greektown, of that other case in Hart Plaza, of that other case by the docks. 

Ronan tugs on a curl curiously, fingers carding through Connor’s new hairstyle as he tips his head slightly.

‘Do you like it?’ He asks, and his brother nods with no hesitation. ‘I thought to change the colour first but I have no strong feelings about it either way. I can only access the black, blond and brown sliders though.’

Ronan blinks before looking down at where Connor is still holding his hand.

>Incoming file transfer 

>>Accept: Y/N?

Connor frowns but accepts the transfer.

Y

>Accessing RK800 aesthetics; hair

>>Brown (default)

>>Black

>>Blond

>>White (Tundra camouflage)

Ronan is...grinning. He’s never seen his brother wear that expression before, and perhaps to others it would appear unsettling since his brother’s teeth are all sharp. But not to Connor of course. To Connor, seeing his brother grin means his brother is planning...mischief? Oh.

‘Shall we prank Detective Reed together?’

His brother’s grin widens. 

New Objective: Prank Detective Reed 

[vesuvianoak]

Conversations and Cautionary Tales – Love Like Yours Fest Day VII – Valerius x Ąžuolas

Title: Conversations and Cautionary Tales Author: Vesuvian Oak Fandom / Setting: The Arcana (post-game) Characters / Pairings: Consul Valerius x Ąžuolas Tobeluk Rating: T+ Word Count: 1337 Warnings / Notes: Written for @lovelikeyoursfest Day VII Summary: Summer storms make for interesting lodging arrangements.

I’m a trope loving fuck and this is my greatest achievement to date haha

Summer rain beat against the shop window, drawing attention to the sign hanging there that said simply Closed Except By Appt.; inside the shop, however, was alive with activity and plans, and had been for several hours now. Ąžuolas moved from point to point on the counter, a writing pad and stylus in hand as he took notes. Seated on the opposite side of the counter was Valerius, his own notes balanced on one knee as he offered suggestions between sips of lemon tea. (The assaliaq Ąžuolas had offered alongside the tea remained untouched.) Their years of working together professionally, and being together personally, were showcased in the way their trains of thought ran parallel to each other, and in the implicit understanding of their turns of phrase and thought processes.

"So we agree that the first step is getting people to the theater in the first place," Ąžuolas announced, sliding his writing stylus between his temple and the leg of his glasses.

Valerius nodded in agreement, setting the china on the countertop before indicating sections of the blueprints of the community theater. "Considering the history and the architecture of the theater—"

Ąžuolas scoffed as he reached across the counter and snagged the piece of assaliaq. "Well, I can tell you right now nobody gives a half a damn about that," he said, tearing off a piece.

"Excuse me?" It was obvious the comment wasn't about the bread.

Ąžuolas held up a finger to wordlessly request a moment to chew and swallow; when he spoke, he gestured expansively, assaliaq in hand be damned. "When people think of theater, they think of plays and music, so if we're heading up the project on increasing accessibility of the arts—" He reached over with his free hand and tapped the slender folio, embossed the title of the project and their names, in which they kept plans and notes—"then we have to bring the theater away from being about the art and the history and the snooty stuff you like and start focusing on affordability and building general interest."

A beat of silence as Valerius considered this, then nodded solemnly. "Valid points are raised," he pronounced, "however I want the record to show that I resent your assessment of my taste."

"Whatever, babe—" Any other teasing he had was cut off by a low rumble of thunder. "Oh damn, sounds like a summer storm coming in." He moved to the sideroom in which he and Asra did readings, peeling the gauzy curtains back to watch the rain pounding against the glass in sheets.

"Then I'll take that as my cue to leave," Valerius said, standing and gathering the plans and notes into neat stacks.

"I wouldn't count on it," Ąžuolas warned, letting the partition fall back into place. "This is a storm that'll send the carriage network home for the day."

"I appreciate your concern," Valerius said bracingly, tucking the folio under his arm and moving with purpose for the door, "but I promise you, everything will be—"

He opened the door with relative ease, only for it to be all but pulled from his hand as the wind caught it, spraying a sheet of rain into the entryway. Ąžuolas appeared at his elbow and with no small measure of their combined efforts, helped him pull the door back closed.

Ąžuolas leaned against the door frame, feeling for the lock and sightlessly throwing the bolt. At the same time, Valerius took stock of himself (thoroughly dampened) and the folio (thankfully dry). After a moment, Ąžuolas' laughter, soft but warm, caught his ear; he looked up in time to see him drying his glasses on his shirttail and placing them back on his face.

Despite the marked difference in their heights, Ąžuolas easily met his eyes as he worked the folio from Valerius' hands. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

☁ ☁ ☁

Dinner was a quiet affair, one underscored by the storm outside and shared over a meal—a chicken and rice curry that Ąžuolas had been eager to try and a young rosé Valerius had given him for a holiday some months prior. "Proper date night," Ąžuolas teased; despite the consul's remarks that the curry and rosé were terribly matched, there was a softness in his expression that spoke to the fact that he was enjoying himself.

At length, the sound of bells from the Temple District joined the rumbling of thunder, marking the late hour. "Looks like you'll be joining me for breakfast," Ąžuolas noted. "Probably for the best—I think I have some of your pajamas you can have back."

"You have what?" Valerius asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I'm a pajama-stealing gremlin," he said simply, shrugging, before giving Valerius the (short) grand tour. "You should know that by now."

After the cursory tour, Ąžuolas disappeared into the master bedroom and returned a moment later with the aforementioned pajamas. "You're welcome to anything in the washroom," he said as he passed the clothing over. "I'm going to pull some extra blankets and stuff from the closet and change."

"Thank you," Valerius replied, voice soft and warm with affection, as he caught Ąžuolas' hand in his and lifted it to press a soft kiss to the backs of his fingers. The pleased rush of color that came to Ąžuolas cheeks before they parted ways was profoundly rewarding, if he was willing to admit it to himself…

Some fifteen minutes later, Valerius emerged from the washroom, day clothes folded neatly and tucked under his arm and his hair loosed from its perennial braid, and paused in the doorway of the master bedroom, watching Ąžuolas as he finished turning down the bed. The blankets had been changed, and a second pillow laid out at the headboard. Ąžuolas himself was spreading a second throw over the mattress, his linen sleeping tunic bunching at the waist as he leaned over to brush out a few wrinkles, half humming half singing a Vesuvian folk tune. It was a microcosm of his very nature, of the things that Valerius so admired and adored about him, and the consul leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, arms loosely crossed as he took in the scene.

After a moment, Ąžuolas' gaze lifted, and he smiled warmly. "I see you staring," he teased lightly. "What's up?"

A flip reply came to mind, but died on Valerius' tongue as he came to a dawning realization regarding the master bedroom, and a wry smile shaped his features.

"What?" Ąžuolas repeated, standing up straight and crossing his arms.

Valerius' gaze flicked from Ąžuolas' face to the bed—big enough for two but a single bed all the same—and back again, the same smile still on his face.

Ąžuolas' gaze followed Valerius, and he seemed to come to the same realization—and then he grinned in a way that one could only describe as mischievously. "Oh no, there's only one bed," he announced, hands on his hips.

The response, up to and including the badly acted "surprise," worked a chuckle from the consul. "Ąžuolas—"

"Whatever shall we do?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed before falling back, head hitting the mattress with a soft but pronounced whump, limbs splayed dramatically. "I guess we'll—" A pause as he lifted the back of his hand to his forehead, meeting Valerius' gaze with a cheeky grin—"just have to shaaaaaaare."

Valerius pushed off the doorframe and carefully laid his clothes on the bureau by the door before coming to stand on the opposite side of the bed and look down at Ąžuolas. "Need I remind you we've been seeing each other for three years?"

"Ugh, you're no fun," Ąžuolas scolded, sitting up. He pushed back the blankets and shimmied under them before lifting an arm out to Valerius in invitation. "Now come cuddle in the witch's bed. They'll write cautionary tales about us for ages to come."

A lot of things could be said about Consul Valerius, but that he needed telling twice was not one of them.

[redsrandomrants]

Let Me Tell You Why You're Wrong About Pink Diamond💎

**spoilers for the show Steven Universe if you aren't caught up**

A lot of people on social media have some very strong opinions on the character of Pink Diamond. It’s not really a secret that the Steven Universe fandom is rather toxic, which is why I usually I try to stay away, lest I contract idiocy, but I made the horrible mistake of watching one of the many, many, YouTube videos on her, and let's just say I have a lot of feelings.

First off, the impression people seem to have of Pink is that she was a selfish brat that used and manipulated everyone around her, faked a new identity to escape her Disney Princess life and responsibilities and was in general a horrible person. These people are wong. Don't listen to them. Listen to me. I have a blog. 

So, since apparently those geniuses have been watching an entirely different show, I, a scholar, shall provide you with evidence from the show to back up my claims instead of just spewing whatever unfiltered word vomit enters my brain. You might wanna buckle up, folks, when I rant I rant for hours.

Let us begin.

First, we will need to reconstruct what we know of Pink's timeline. The earliest glimpse we can get of her is in the episode "Jungle Moon".

-I want my own army! I want my own planet! I deserve it! I’m just as important as you!

Pink Diamond, Jungle Moon

Here is where the 'spoiled brat' idea was probably born. And I would agree with that... if this was the last we saw of Pink. But it isn't. This is, in story terms, Pink Diamond pre-character development. When you write a story, it's important that your characters grow and change over the course of the adventure. Otherwise it makes for a bad, boring story, because if the events didn't have an impact on the characters, how are they supposed to have an impact on the audience? Who wants to see an adventure that doesn't leave a mark and after it's done it's quickly forgotten as if it never was? It's nearly impossible to pull off a compelling story like that. Hence why characters start out with a problem or a character flaw that they need to overcome. Let me ask you this, can you see this tantrum-throwing version of Pink leading an army? Can you see her acting like that with Amethyst, Garnet or Pearl? With Greg? No, because by the time she met them, she was a different person. Would a selfish brat leave behind her cushy life? Didn't think so.

Back to the timeline, after Pink throws a fit that she is a Diamond too and wants to be a big girl now, after much pleading and begging and probably more tantrums, her sisters decide that she's mature enough to to handle it. It's possible that she demonstrated in some way that she was up to the task, but we have no proof of that at this point. The next bit of her we see, she's already overseeing progress on her very first colony -- Earth. It's not all that she imagined it to be, as we see her bored and she even remarks to her Pearl that she wished something more exciting will happen. Pre-character development Pearl at this point is brainwashed to be an obedient pawn, so she agrees and does anything her Diamond says.

- Could you imagine that running a colony would be this dull?  

- I could imagine it, if you would like me to, My Diamond.

-Pink and Pearl on the Moon Base, Now We’re Only Falling Apart

In this segment we see how Pearl accidentally gave Rose the idea to shapeshift into a Quartz and go to Earth to meet her soldiers. Now, at this point it's worth noting how nice Pink is to them. The newest episode at the time of this post is Familiar, where we see that Pink treated her Pebbles similarly (they try to hide from Steven until he says 'thank you', and only after that do they recognise him as Pink Diamond)

- Welcome to Earth!

- That is the first and nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

Pink and a newly-emerged Amethyst soldier,  Now We’re Only Falling Apart

Pink and Pearl tour Earth, hugging trees and being hippies. And then something happens - Pink sees humans for the first time. It dawns on her that this planet already has life on it, and that completing this colony, this thing she's wanted for so, so long, would mean destroying that life. At this point we're already seeing some of that character development, but this is a call to action that really gets the ball rolling.

So, what did Pink do next? She decided to run away from her boring responsibilities, not caring about the destruction she was causing and what she was leaving behind, but only looking to selfishly disappear under a fake identity. No? You think that's a bit inconsistent with the gem that thanks little worker pebbles and was most excited not about conquering but about creating life, saddened by the fact she has to end the life already there? Well, you'd be right.

What Pink did next was go to her sisters, the other Diamonds, and say, “I don't want to complete this colony.” When the Diamonds, rightly so, pointed out that Pink had been badgering them for it and asked why she didn't want it anymore, Pink told the truth: there are humans and flowers and she doesn't want to destroy that. Naively, she sincerely thought that if she told her sisters this, they would agree that it's wrong, they would leave Earth alone and maybe only colonise uninhabited planets. But what did the other Diamonds say? We don't care about humans, they told her. You wanted this, now finish what you started! They scolded her, the way you scold a flippant child. Because, let's not forget, she is by far the youngest of the four. Those of you with older siblings, would they listen to you about something they've done longer than you? Imagine you've just now started a new activity, like let's say fencing. You go to your sisters who are both years older than you and you tell them you want to fence holding the rapier backwards and that they should do the same. The response you would get will fall somewhere between annoyed eyerolls and condescending remarks, possibly a derisive laugh or two. And guess what, that's exactly how the Diamonds reacted.

-Why did she have to rope us into all of this? Why couldn’t she just stop the colonization herself?

-She tried. When she told the other Diamonds she didn’t want to go through with the colony, they told her to finish what she started. When she told the other Diamonds she wanted to preserve life on Earth, they created the Zoo and threw a handful of humans in. She did everything she could as Pink Diamond, but her status meant nothing to Blue and Yellow.

-- Sapphire and Pearl, Now We’re Only Falling Apart

We need to remember that she was a Diamond, yes, but she didn’t have absolute power to do as she wanted in every single respect, especially given that this is her very first colony and she’s the baby of the family. No matter how much you grow up, to the adults in your life you will always be that kid that drew on the walls and pooped their diaper. But Pink didn’t give up, she kept making excuses after excuses, and when nothing worked, she decided to take a stand ‘as someone they couldn’t ignore’. Notice that she didn’t just tear down the kindergarten and break her toy like a petulant child. No, her first instinct was non-violent solutions.

-She was going to scare every gem off the planet.

Pearl, Now We’re Only Falling Apart

And that might have been where it ended. Buuuut…

-Everything changed when she saw your fusion. Before Garnet, Rose was only fighting for Earth. But Garnet changed everything; Rose wanted to fight for her, she wanted to fight for gems.

Pearl, Now We’re Only Falling Apart

But how, please tell me how, is any of that selfish? Pink didn’t want to be a fusion. At the beginning, this was about preserving life on Earth. Then it became about other gems. She didn't do any of this for herself -- she did it for them. She could see how brainwashed all the other gems were to love the Diamonds and serve them and do what they’re meant to do.

-Rose Quartz changed my life. I came to Earth thinking this was just another colony -- build another arena for important fighters to fight in, build another spire for important thinkers to think in. And then I met her. Just another Quartz soldier made right here in the dirt, but she was different. And she was different because she decided to be. She asked me what I wanted to build; I’d never heard that before. And gems never hear they can be anything other than what they are, but Rose opened our eyes.

Bismuth, Bismuth

Some people are salty that it turned out Rose Quartz wasn’t ‘just another soldier’ and that made her less special somehow. But what does it matter if she was a Quartz or a Diamond? She was still different. Was she like the other Diamonds? No. Was she like any other gem? No. So what does it matter? She still made the choice to be different, she still decided to fight for innocent life and for the right of other gems to choose, something no one, Diamond or otherwise, had ever done. She pretty much acts the same as Rose as she did as Pink, so why the hell does it matter?

And this is the point where we will take a slight detour and talk about Pearl. Pearl has now been demoted in public opinion for some reason because she’s ‘less of a rebel’, because now she's just following a Diamond like she’s supposed to. That’s what everyone says, right? But here’s the thing. Everyone is full of shit.

-Pearl.

-Yes?

-I’m going to stay and fight for this planet. You don't have to do this with me.

-But I want to!  

-I know you do. Please, please understand, if we lose, we’ll be killed. And if we win, we can never go home.

-Why would I ever want to go home if you’re here?

Rose and Pearl, Rose’s Scabbard

Pearl wasn’t just following Pink -- she was given a choice. Stay who you are, stay a maid, an object, go to one of the other Diamonds. I’m going to do this dangerous thing, but you don’t have to. Pearl joined the rebellion because she wanted to join, and she was given the choice of staying behind and being a servant, but she rejected it. Like with Bismuth, Pink asked her what she wanted to do. And notice how different she is now than Flashback!Pearl. She snaps at Peridot that she doesn't belong to anyone, she learned to sword fight and to build things and to do stuff that Pearls aren’t supposed to because she wanted to. She stayed with Pink because Pink is the epitome of sunshine and goodness, not because of some slave complex. Dobby the House Elf didn’t die for Harry Potter because of some slave-in-love-with-its-master crap, but because Harry showed him a kindness no one else had and Dobby wanted to help him, and fight for him, and ultimately die for him. Harry freed him, but he was still there, following him and helping him because he just wanted to. Are you seeing it now? Pearl was famous for throwing herself between Pink and attacking enemies, even though Pink told her not to do that.

-Why won’t you just let me do this for you, Rose?!

Pearl, Sworn to the Sword

-Did Rose make you feel like you were nothing?

-Hah! Rose made me feel like I was everything.

Connie and Pearl, Sworn to the Sword

Pink showed Pearl kindness that she’d never seen before, asked her what she wanted to do. That’s why Pearl follows her. Maybe there wasn’t a symbolic sock of freedom, but Pink told Pearl that she was free to do as she chose. And Pearl chose to fight.

Pearl is a renegade pearl, and she doesn't belong to anybody. Fight me.

And now let’s talk controversy -- the shattering.

Going back to the timeline, let’s recap.

Pink wants a colony of her own

Pink gets colony

Pink finds out running a colony is boring, but Pearl gives her the idea to sneak into the kindergarten in disguise

Pink sees humans and flowers and decides she wants to protect the planet

Pink talks to the Diamonds about stopping the colony, but gets shot down

Pink decides to take on the form of Rose Quartz and chase the gems off world.

Pink meets Garnet and decides she wants to fight for gems and their right to choose

Pink gathers more gems to her cause, such as Bismuth, and creates the Rebellion

While points 5-8 are going on, Pink continues making up excuses to stop or slow down colonisation. She knows that the Rebellion is outnumbered, that Homeworld can keep sending troops indefinitely and that they, unlike the rebels, aren’t afraid of shattering. Pink was very much against shattering, as it’s a permanent death for a gem, and as discussed previously she is a big poofy marshmallow. Pink tries, relentlessly, to get the colonisation stopped, even while she is leading the rebellion, and even tries to use this to make the other Diamonds back off. This goes as well as you’d expect.

- This is what you wanted. You begged us for a colony of your own, and now all you want to do is be rid of it! First there were too many organics, and then their cities were too difficult to dismantle, and now these Crystal Gems? We're tired of your excuses, Pink! This Rose Quartz can't hurt you. You can't be swayed by a few unruly gems. Enough! You must understand... you are a Diamond. Everyone on this planet is looking to you. You don't even have to do anything; just smile and wave. Show everyone you are unfazed by this little uprising. Your gems will fall into line, and these Crystal Gems will be no more. As long as you're there to rule, this colony will be completed.

Blue Diamond, Can’t Go Back

This is when the idea forms. Pink realises that as long as she is there to be the ruler, the other Diamonds won’t relent. But maybe, just maybe, if she were to disappear, Blue and Yellow would leave the colony unfinished and tend to their own.

- Blue and Yellow don’t care. They never have. This is Pink Diamond’s colony. We can end it all, right here, right now.

Rose, A Single Pale Rose

Please note again that Pink doesn’t command Pearl to play along, but instead asks her to participate. Also note that Pearl is no longer mindlessly agreeing, she is considering the danger and making her own choice. Pink believes that this is the only way to get the gems to leave, and she also chooses to present as Rose Quartz, because that’s who she feels she really is. Here is the thing. Diamonds, just like any other gem, are made for a purpose. Pink was supposed to be a conquerer or world, that was her job. But she didn’t want to be. She didn’t want to be treated like a Diamond (please refer to the scene on the Moon Base and her disdain for the robotic way Pearl addresses her). How is that any different than a Pearl choosing to fight or a Quartz soldier choosing not to? Rose Quartz or Pink Diamond, she rejected the role she’d been assigned and sought to make her own path in life. She wanted to be free, too, the same way she wanted that for all gems. 

Please note my choice of words, people. ‘Chooses to present’. ‘Role she’d been assigned’. ‘Trying to be someone she’s not’. Those are not coincidences.

-Mom lived in hiding by the name of Rose, with the friends she’d made and the form she chose

Steven, Reunited

With such big LGBT+ vibes in the show, it boggles my mind that people aren’t picking up on this. Is it because gems are genderless aliens? Is it because Rose is the same ‘gender’ as Pink?

Moving on to the final bits of Rose Quartz’s history (since this is the name she chose for herself, we’ll go with that from now on). Let’s see, what haven’t we addressed? Selfish, spoiled brat? Character development, we went over that. Manipulated and lied to everyone? Um, to do what, fight for their own freedom? Since she pretty clearly gives everyone she meets a choice, I’m gonna call bullshit on that one. And she always acted as herself while she was Rose, so she wasn’t pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Faked her death to escape her responsibilities? Nope, did that so the Diamonds would leave Earth (which worked btw). She’s a horrible person? Well sure, if by horrible you mean sweet and nice to everyone she meets, fighting for innocent life and for the rights of all gems, then yeah. She’s so horrible everyone loves her.

Had many secrets? Well, that one is kinda legit. She did have secrets, but she hid things for the greater good. Her being Pink Diamond? I’d imagine a lot of gems would have reacted like this butthurt fandom “Oh, so we never really rebelled? We were just following another Diamond this whole time? THIS WHOLE REBELLION IS A LIE!!” Except that it isn’t. Everyone made the choice to follow Rose, not because she was a Diamond, but because she inspired them. They did rebell on their own, and they were fighting of their own free will. They didn’t know that she was a Diamond, and that’s what really matters. But, well, we’ve seen what happens -- people jump to conclusions without stopping to think. So yeah, I get that. Bubbling Bismuth? Well, I mean… Bismuth did try to kill her. What else was she supposed to do? This is as close to prison as Rose can do, and obviously she wouldn’t shatter her or banish her so that she would fall into enemy hands. Rose kept Bismuth safe, along with her most treasured possessions, but knew she couldn't let her out. Why? Bismuth would still want to take the war to Homeworld. And Rose made a choice not to sully Bismuth’s good name and tell others of her betrayal and radical murdery ways. Not an easy choice, but it was the one she made. People were also kinda salty that her being Pink means that she never had to make the tough moral choice to kill an evil dictator, but here you go, imprisoning your crazy, extremist friend counts as a morally grey choice. 

Created Steven so that she didn’t have to face consequences and left him this mess to clean? What was her grand plan for him, why did she have him? Surely there is a great conspiracy behind this, right?? The machiavellian mind of  Pink Diamond at work???

- I don’t understand! Why is this the same as the video you guys made me? Who’s Nora?

- Nora is you! We had it down to two names: Steven if you were a boy and Nora if you were a girl.

- So then… would Nora have the magical destiny if I wasn’t here?

- Magical destiny? I dunno about that.

- But Mom did! She was trying to tell me something with my tape! She keeps leaving me puzzle pieces! Sooner or later, I’m going to understand what I’m for!

- Whoa, Steven, it’s okay! C’mere.

- … Am I supposed to be… Did she want me to be Nora?

- Steven, she just wanted you to be you. When you have a kid you have no idea who they’re gonna be; even Garnet couldn’t predict it. That’s what was so exciting to your mom, that life is full of so many possibilities and you would get to explore them for yourself. I mean, you could be Steven, or Nora, or anyone else. And you can always change your name! Hey, I did.

- So that’s it. I’m just… supposed to be her kid.

- Well… yeah. Is that okay?

- Yeah. I think I can handle that.

Steven and Greg, Lion 4: Alternate Ending

- I get it. I know you didn’t want me to deal with your problems. But you’re a part of me now. I have to deal with what you left behind.

Steven, Storm in the Room

[sandersideswriting]

You weren’t supposed to swerve...

Hello and Welcome!! this is a story I posted on AO3 and thought I’d crosspost here as well. I think I got all the warnings down, but if I missed any please let me know and I’ll adjust the tags! I hope that you enjoy! Thank you for reading! Sorry the summery kinda sucks!

Warnings-

Implied Character Death, Blood, Attempted Suicide, Car Accident, Cursing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summery

Logan is driving home, the hour is very late, and it’s pitch black on the lonely road. He’s looking forward to getting home to his beloved Patton when suddenly a shadow materializes in the middle of the road. He has no time to react, jerking the wheel he swerves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was rather late at night before Logan finished up the paper work that he had to do. He sighed as he stood up from his desk, feeling his body protest from the hours that he’d been sitting hunched over the papers that had to be finished. A soft groan escaped him as he lifted his arms above his head and stretched out his body. Sighing slightly, and feeling a bit looser now he packed his bag and headed for the exit.

Outside the black of night greeted him. Logan shivered a bit as he felt the cool night air wash over him. He picked up his phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Hi Lo Lo!!” A happy voice answered the phone after only a couple of rings. Logan felt his lips curling up in a warm smile as he heard his husband’s voice, the warmth then spread though his chest and heart. He loved his husband so very much.

“Hello Patton. I’ve just finished up all of my work. I’m on my way to my car now to head home.” He said in a calm voice. His steps echoed lightly on the ground of the deserted parking garage. Patton laughed in delight over the line

“Really? You’ve finished everything, as in Everything everything!?!? Does that mean we can head out a day early?” his bright eager voice rang out. Logan could picture his husband all but jumping in place as he asked, his hands gripping the phone eagerly and his blue eyes shining with excitement. He nodded, then remembering he was on the phone he chucked slightly at his error before speaking.

“That is correct. I hoped I could finish all of the work tonight, and that way I could add an additional day to our vacation. I didn’t say anything about it this morning since I was unsure if I could accomplish all the tasks I needed to. I didn’t wish to disappoint you if I did not.” He said to him. Reaching his car, his hand fumbled for his keys for a moment, trying to juggle the bag, the phone and getting the keys out with out dropping anything. Smirking in victory he unlocked his car and slid into the chilled seat. He set his bag to the side, and then turned the key in the engine, feeling the car come to life. Patton’s squeal of delight made him move the phone from his ear slightly, wincing, but smiling even more. He knew for sure his love was rocking back and forth on his feet, almost prancing in place like an over excited puppy. He grinned at the thought, as he slid the car into drive and began to leave the car garage.

“Oh this is wonderful!! I’m so excited LoLo!! I’m going to have to make you my special hot coco for when you get home! And tomorrow we can head out, and this is going to be such an amazing vacation and you’ve worked so hard to get it and I can’t believe we’re finally getting to go on vacation and I’m so excited and–” Patton was cut off by Logan’s laugh.

“Breath love. Breath. You’ll pass out if you keep up with that ongoing sentence. I am, however, very excited as well. I am quite eager for this vacation that we have worked hard to get. But, even if we were not going anyplace I am looking most forward to my time with you.” he said in a softer voice. Patton awwe’d into the phone and Logan felt his face warming slightly. He turned out of the car garage, and after glancing back and forth to ensure no cars were coming, excited onto the main road. Just thirty minuets.  Then he would be home and he and Patton would go on the vacation they’d been planning for a year and a half now. Three weeks off both their jobs, a cruise, and then an all inclusive resort. Time just for themselves, away from work and any other troubles. They hadn’t had much time just to be together since the Honeymoon, his job keeping him late often with paper work, and Patton’s Pet Hospital calling him in on odd hours for emergencies on top of his normal shifts. He smiled again, yes, he was looking forward very much to this time off.

“As I am driving now love, I will let you go. I shall be home in approximately thirty minuets. I look forward to your hot coco.” he added with a soft grin on his lips. Patton laughed in delight and after an exchange of  I love you’s they hung up. Logan hummed softly to himself as he drove along the road. He made another turn merged onto the highway. The road was almost deserted, hardly anyone was traveling the dark road at this time of night. Logan didn’t mind, the quiet and the hum of his car and the road were soothing sounds. His mind was flitting over the last minuet details they would need to take care of before they could head out. He did dislike this stretch of the highway though. The city had been working on the lights, adding in more so at the moment there were no functioning lights along this part. It left the road in pitch black, and he was always relieved when he crossed though. He would be quite pleased when the re-wiring for the lights would be done and this section lit up like the others. He glanced at the dashboard clock, another fifteen minutes and he’d be home. As his eyes turned back to the road, he saw a solid shadow emerge from the inky black, lit up by his headlights. His eyes widened a sharp gasp of air escaping him. He had seconds to react. On instinct he jerked his wheel to the side, feeling the car swerve, hearing the squeal of his tires on the road and feeling the bite of the seat-belt as it locked into place to keep him from jerking around. Then there was the sound of metal crunching…

“Logan love!” Patton’s voice rang clear and he snapped his eyes open. Logan blinked confused as he looked around. Patton was beside him, a fruity looking set of drinks in his hands, a wide sun hat on his head and a worried look on his face.

“Lo Lo you alright?” he asked as he set the drinks down on the table between their chairs. Logan was confused. Hadn’t he just been driving? His eyes roamed around, taking in the bright sunlight, the warm sandy beach and the ocean waves lapping at the shore. He himself was dressed in his swim shorts and a tank top, stretched out on a beach chair.  He was lost as he shifted and then sat up.

“I’m.. fine.. ” he said, though his voice was unsure.

“Where.. are we again?” he asked. Patton looked worried as he reached out touching Logan’s face and frowning.

“We’re at the resort love. Remember? We’ve been here for a day or so. You must have dozed off… I wonder if you’ve gotten a bit too much sun. ” he said to him, looking anxious. Logan smiled softly at the worry and love on Patton’s face. Of course they were at the resort. He should have remembered that. He brought a hand up to his head, and winced slightly feeling a headache blooming.

“You might be right love. Perhaps I’ve had a bit too much sun. I am developing a headache, and i feel a bit disorientated. ” he admitted to Patton. Patton nodded and firmly gripped Logan’s arm, to help him stand up. Logan was shocked at the pain the tight grip sent though his arm and he bit back a small whimper.

“Alright then, we’re going inside and you’re going to get cooled off!” He said firmly. Not giving Logan a chance to protest he began to drag him from the chair. Logan winced at the feeling of the hot sand under his feet. It felt like fire licking the souls of his bare feet as Patton drug him forward. He struggled to keep up, the hands holding his arm hurt and Patton wasn’t letting up.

“Patton.. Patton.. You’re holding my arm a bit too tight. It hurts.. ” he said though grit teeth. Patton simply laughed.

“No I’m not!” he giggled as he seemed to grip even tighter making Loagan let out a small cry of pain. The heat from the sand was licking up his legs now, not only his feet. Why was the sand so hot? How was Patton gripping his arm so tightly? He really wasn’t that strong! Logan tripped and fell, Patton’s grip finally broken as he felt himself land face first into the sand. The heat washed over him, he felt like he’d hit his chest on something hard and solid, he could hardly breath.   Patton rolled him over and grinned down at him.

“Silly Logie Bear!” he said

“If you were too hot you should have said something!” he moved out of Logan’s line of sight, as he lay on the burning ground struggling to pull in air. Soon he came back, and his flip flop covered foot landed squarely on Logan’s chest, pushing him harder into the ground.

“Here I can cool you down!” he chirped. Slowly he began to pour the fruity drinks from before over Logan’s face, and then neck and chest. It did help the burning sensation, but he could barely breath, the smell was sickly sweet, and coppery. What the hell kind of drinks were those

“p.. patton.. i.. i can’t.. ” Logan gasped out, struggling for breath. Patton sighed and then he tossed the empty cups to the side and dropped down sitting on Logan’s stomach, he leaned closer to him.

“You weren’t supposed to swerve… ” he said quietly, his voice filled with sorrow. Logan looked confused

“Wha.. what?” he asked, still struggling to comprehend what was going on. Something was very wrong, but his head was feeling so muddled, and the headache was splitting his skull open.

“You weren’t’ supposed to swerve. ” Patton repeated.

“You ruined everything. You were not supposed to swerve!!” He said anger lacing his voice. Logan couldn’t form words, his breathing too restricted, the pain in his chest and head too much for him to focus on anything.

“Why did you swerve! Why didn’t you keep going straight! You idiot! You ruined it all!” Patton’s voice was morphing, changing into something deeper, raspier.  Logan was lost, this wasn’t right. What was happening?

His eyes slid open, a figure was hunched beside him, the smell of burning rubber and smoke was thick in the air. His chest, head, back legs and arms were screaming in agony. The dark figure next to him was rocking back and forth, gripping his own arms, his breathing coming in increasingly short rapid gasps as he muttered to himself.

“Why did you swerve! It was supposed to be so easy! I had a note explaining everything!” the raspy voice gasped out. Logan coughed slightly, a new shockwave of pain ripped though is body and he groaned, the taste of copper rose up in the back of his throat but he ignored it for the moment. The figure jerked looking at him, his eyes widened seeing that Logan’s eyes were open. He scrambled closer to him, hands hovering but not touching, afraid of making things even worse then he had.

“Oh.. Oh Fuck.. fuck you’re alive thank fucking god!” the figure said. The figure was sobbing, his own phone held loosely in one hand.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! You weren’t supposed to swerve! You were supposed to hit me! I had a note to explain everything! I’ve already called for an ambulance.. and.. and I had to get you out of the car it caught on fire, and you weren’t moving and the flames were at your legs and” his voice droned on, terror and sorrow lacing every word.Logan couldn’t bring himself to focus on the words that spilled from the other’s mouth. Suddenly there was a pop and then a small BOOM and suddenly the area was lit up even brighter then before, throwing the inky shadow figure into light. Logan could make out wide grey eyes, pale gaunt skin, and dark shadows that leaked down his face. Seemed like the boy was in his late teens, and he was frantically talking and gesturing. Logan couldn’t figure it out, his head was throbbing.. his mind was in turmoil.  The wail of sirens cut though the air and the boy seemed a little bit relieved to hear them. Logan, wasn’t able to focus on them though, his mind was slipping, the pain engulfing him, threatening to drag him under. He needed to talk to Patton. He had to talk to him before he could let that happen!

“p.. pa.. t..” his lips formed his husband’s name. His voice was hardly a whisper but it shut the boy beside him up and he stared wide eyed.

“W.. what?” He asked. Logan focused. He had to talk to Patton.. he needed him to know what was happening.

“Pa… patton..ca..call” he rasped out. The boy stared at him and then his eyes widened and he scrambled off to the side out of Logan’s line of sight. It took what felt like forever but he came back, a cracked phone in his shaking hands.

“h.. here. here I have your phone!” he said. Logan whispered out the code to unlock it, he felt his energy draining slowly with every effort. With shaking fingers, the boy managed to input the code and pulled up the contacts. He found the one labeled Patton and dialed it quickly. He held the ringing phone to Logan’s ear, since Logan couldn’t hold the phone himself.

“Logan hunny! You’re running a bit late? Did you stop someplace for something?” Patton’s voice rang out clear, playful and full of life and energy and love. Logan felt his lips twitch in a smile, and he tried to speak, a rasping gasp of air was all that escaped him at first.  So he tried again.

“Pat.. ton.. ” he managed. Patton sucked in a sharp breath of air at the sound of Logan’s whispered rasp.

“Logan.. Logan.. love.. you.. you’re scaring me.. what’s going on?” he asked. Logan felt guilty.. but hearing Patton’s voice was soothing.. he latched onto it.. his eyes starting to flutter shut against his will.

“No dude! No stay awake! The ambulance is nearly here!” the figure in black cried out, though the tone said he was hoping the ambulance was almost there, instead of knowing for sure. Patton gasped on the phone having heard it the shout. Logan could hear the phone creaking in his lovers tight grip.

“Logan! Logan what is he talking about! Logan! Answer me!!” Patton cried out over the phone. Logan couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, he focused all his energy into speaking. He had to say it before he was pulled unconscious!

“.. l.. love…yh …” he managed to get out. Logan was relieved he got to say that at the very least. Pain was overwhelming him, even though he could feel hardly anything in his arms and legs… the headache was splitting his skull and his entire body was demanding he sleep. The pull of unconscious was not easy to ignore, he could feel the blackness already wrapping around him and dragging him down.

“Logan! No Logan!! Come on.. talk to me!!! LOGAN!!” Patton’s voice screamed trying desperately to keep him in hear and now, but Logan was pulled into the inky depths of unconsciousness, Patton’s voice ringing in his ears.

[ayankun]

GOTHAM

insanely rambley HUGE spoiler-ridden seasons 1-4 thoughts under cut

FIRST OFF LET ME TELL YOU I GOT CHILLS

Secondly, let’s think back to how I felt about season one.  A little loose in the narrative, not so much weaving threads as having threads, ones that you keep expecting to pull tight but more often than not just get dropped for other, shinier threads.  All leading to a surprisingly effective character-driven season finale that hopes to prove to you that a few meandering plot points can still add to a sum greater than the parts.

(Oswald goes from umbrella boy to King of Gotham, Bruce Wayne starts at the site of his parents’ murder and ends up taking his first steps into the Batcave, Jim enters as this black-and-white idealist and winds learning from a mob boss that even good men sometimes get their hands dirty to get the job done.  A socially awkward unrecognized genius has a psychic break, leading ultimately to the fall of Edward Nygma and the rise of the Riddler.)

Season two is a blur.  A period of transition from Jim “Good Cop” Gordon Fistfighting Corruption into... Gotham City: Arkham Asylum’s Backyard.  Think how much season one was about only Fish Mooney vs Falcone vs the GCPD and Cobblepot doublecrossing everyone he meets, and how much seasons two and three and four were about the Riddler and Valeska and Tetch and Ra’s al Ghul (and Valeska).  We have the bring-everyone-back-to-life at Indian Hill period to thank for the sudden left turn into the Strange.

WHICH IS NOT A COMPLAINT.

There are so many types of Batman stories, and there’s a time and a place for both Joe Chill and Killer Croc.  Gotham started in one and always knew it was headed for the other.

And B.D. Wong as Strange is a DELIGHT and I really appreciated his dynamic with Miss Peabody.  Speaking of, the bomb defusing scene was a real gem omg lololol give the woman some damn water already.

At the same time, the Fish storyline was like WHOA what EVEN is haPPENINg at any given moment.  And it ultimately didn’t amount to much?  There’s so much waffling between the surviving gang camps where everyone’s either got a kill-on-sight order or a owed-life-debt to each other and the pendulum swings back and forth so quickly it’s not really worth holding onto how anyone feels about anyone else.  That dead/MIA character will come back or the rivalry will be revived or the long-held grudge will be recalled if and when that plot point is going to be drafted, but other than that everyone’s friends and that’s ok.

And like.  Ivy??? Ivy Pepper???????  Why is that ride so wild???  There is no cause and effect, only next next next.  It’s insane.  Maybe watching this all at once rather than over the course of four years lends a different perspective, but holy cow.  Such a ballsy way to do whatever with a character you never had a plan for.

Which brings us to Barbara Kean?!  Season one she was there because they knew she was a Mythos Character but then they were like, wait, whateven is she for though?  Which is a fair question, since having her be the Little Lady Trophy Fiance meant she was a boring and needless character wasting space, not standing on her own and hardly informing Jim’s character either.  So what to do, what to do.  How about we kidnap her, put her through some insanely cruel physical and psychological abuse, make her a psycho-revenge-bride, put her in a coma, have her come back as a 100% Arkham Villain, give her a hench(wo)man, have the henchman KILL HER, have Ra’s al Ghul waltz up out of literally nowhere and say “lol, borrow this arcane mojo for a minute, I’ll want it back later or will I” and now she’s a kingpin of Gotham’s underworld with her own mini League of Assassin?!!!!!!!   !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!    !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Like.  Even if they never had a plan going into it, I’m pretty okay with most of what they came up with.  Better than the lil wifey hanging out at home and having one passing remark about curating a gallery that we never saw and was never mentioned again.

Better off a once-crazy, once-dead mafiosa than the less inspired handling of Miss Kringle.  I won’t even get into that trainwreck I-only-exist-to-validate-manpain-of-my-murderer wait I said I wasn’t going to get into it.

So Nygma!  Like I said when I got started with the show, the season one Edward Nygma was crafted as this painfully unsympathetic offbeat loser and I think they fully succeeded with that characterization.  The emergence of the Riddler persona was a welcome change, an upgrade, a spit-shine into something clean cut and confident and stylish.  But I like that, compared to the Penguin, the posterchild for evil-psychotic-villain!Protaganist, for example, they held on to a lot of Nygma’s unlikeablilty in that he’s still an ass, even more of an insufferable egoist, and SO CRAZY he can’t even read himself (which was a big thing about the character before he split in half, so in itself that’s pretty great).

I don’t know.  Maybe you like him and I’m supposed to like him.  I think he’s exactly what he ought to be, and while I'd never want to see him marched off a peer with a bullet in his back, I’m more than happy to see his fellow villain-Protagonists knock him around once in a while.  Penguin and Mooney and now Lee (?!) and Zsasz even are the kind of villan!Protagonist you really root for.  But if it’s any one of them vs. the Riddler, they’re definitely not going to lose.  Nygma’s like in his own category of villain!Protagonist Antagonist.

Of course, the post-Arkham-proto-Riddler who was running Oswald’s mayoral campaign, now HOT DAMN that was a storyline I could get behind.  I almost actually believed they were going to do something great in the Nygmobblepot arena and that was a magical moment.  I think the resulting blood feud, as painful of a 360 as they come, was a sounder storytelling decision and more in line with the show’s Schroedinger’s Frenemies mentality.

And his season four storyline with the Ed Nygma persona challenging the Riddler was a nice full circle.  Sort of closing the gap between this raging banana nutball and the razor-sharp criminal mastermind he could be if tried.  Not SUPER THRILLED with his creeping on Lee but, with all due respect, that’s par for the character so again I say I don’t think I’m meant to like him??

I just spent half this rant on the Riddler so I guess they’re doing something right.

Ok so Cameron Monaghan’s VALESKA TWINS.  Let’s get right into it, shall we.

Holy smokes they did everything right on this one.  Loved the Primal Fear treatment of his introduction, and the way this random circus kid just so happens to start displaying jokey traits that astute viewers will start to suspect that this could be the big bad we’ve all been waiting for --

and then they kill him.

WOW

I was so ready for this kid to grow up to be the Joker, and they rip that dream away and replace it with an idea that anyone can grow up to be the Joker, and damn if that isn’t the nicest treatment of the character’s fractured and obfuscated origin story.  But.  THEN!

THEY BRING HIM BACK and it’s everything you wanted him to be.  He’s just so good.  There’s just the right amount of (IMO, anyway) Hamill-homage in what is otherwise a fully imagined Character who is instantly recognizable as one of many iterations but at the same time outclasses them all.  The high-level narrative and dialogue stuff, the stuff they create for him to do, I mean, is all great.  And then Monaghan brings this manic A++ game to the table and blows it out of the water.  Best Joker performance?  Arguably so, especially when you consider

JEREMIAH VELASKA because this kid can’t stop having stellar Joker performances.  He’s like, two and a half, three of the best Joker performances on the books.  Jeremiah’s distinct visual style, the characterization, AGAIN with the obfuscated we-are-legion origin story hocow.  NO COMPLAINTS HERE.

Anyway so if that’s what we get in return for sending Fish Mooney through a narrative meat grinder, then I guess it’s an even trade.

Pengiun.  What to say about Penguin.  I loved what they gave him in season two, a ton of character stuff because his plot stuff of rags to riches had played itself out.  I felt real bad for his mom, but I really liked that he went and made himself mayor, and even while his story arcs tend to go riches to rags and back again, it’s never not a pleasure watching him claw his way up to where he thinks he ought to be.

For the most part they do a good job stringing together these different Protagonist story-groups, keeping in mind that most of these groups serve mainly as antagonists amongst themselves (when they’re not being buddy-buddy to serve some winding end).  So when you get the villain!Antagonists you can really tell the difference.  I got a little yawny while we were setting up Fries, and by the time we finally locked Tetch up for good I was very grateful.  These will never be main characters and the show knows it and wants you to know it, too.  So while they’re the main on-screen villain, it can get a little stale because the same effort isn’t being put into their lasting appeal.

Um.  Jim Gordon.  Another thing I liked about season four was a strong return to GCPD bidniss.  Season two there was a lot of GCPD, but with Captain Barnes and the strike force and Galavan, so it was a completely different narrative animal than what Gordon was throwing down with in season one.  Then Gordon goes to prison and after that he doesn’t go back to GCPD until well into season three, and by then the story’s about Mario and Tetch and Lee and omg I forgot about Valerie Vale until this very moment whoops.

As was hinted in the season one finale, Jim Gordon went on a very twisty path through the mud before he figured himself out again.  Killing Galavan was like WHAT JIMBOY and that wasn’t even the worst of it.  What I liked most about his stint as a PI was the character’s eventual acceptance that the law isn’t the be all and end all of righteousness, and that there are other means available when enforcing peace and justice.  Not necessarily by killing every evil mayor you come across with your own two hands, but the eye-opening to the virtues of vigilantism is super important when you realize he’s going to be Batman’s main ally down the line and this time in his life is going to be what ultimately allows the future police commissioner to legitimize this kind of shadowy ninja behavior.

Anyway, in season four, Jim kind of comes back to roost at the GCPD, and finally ousting Bullock as Captain was rough but obviously warranted, and with only one season left that was a good time to do it.  Harper was a nice addition and I’d like to see more of her as a standalone character.  (Similarly, Fox has fit in nicely with the cops, but I’m not overly hankering to see more of his day to day antics.) 

What was my real point?  I really liked the Gordon vs the GCPD dynamics of season one, and while obviously that’s not a story you can tell forever, it did inform the sense that the police force is a living entity that can serve you very well if it trusts you, but before that can happen you really have to jump on its back and break its will LOL.

Also, remember Renee Montoya and Harvey Dent?  Yeah, I don’t either.

SO BRUCE WAYNE, MY FRIENDS.

Gotham is my very most favorite Bruce Wayne story, and much as Batman: TAS is my forever-reference for most Batmany things, Gotham is going to be my heart-canon for Bruce Wayne origins.

It’s one thing to say, “ok so this rich kid watches his parents get murdered in an alley, and from this moment on he vows to do something about it and makes himself a master detective/martial artist who puts on a mask and a cape and runs around at night smashing thugs’ heads in for justice” like it’s a foregone conclusion, a straight-forward A-to-B process, and a wholly other thing to show us, step by step, how he learns to become the thing we all know he’s going to become.

In season one he was this quiet, morose but driven child who didn’t know what to do with this crisis he’d been handed.  He’s a kid who sits in a pool with his whole clothes on, trying to hold his breath for as long as possible because he has no idea how else to become better prepared for handling his issues.  But he has Selina and he has Alfred and he has Fox and he has Jim Gordon, and he will have the Court of Owls and the Valeskas and Ra’s al Ghul who will all play a part in handing him pieces of himself until he has a full set.

He started with this strong sense of right and wrong, a deeply seated desire to put his talents and his money to some sort of use, an earnest diligence towards bettering himself in all ways, and little by little he gets shown just how much of a fragile and defenseless baby he is.  That time Alfred accidentally-on-purpose clobbered him in the eye -- that was the moment Bruce found out they’d all been pulling their punches with him and that he still had so so so far to go.

Of course, at the particular moment, he was going through a well-earned rebel without a cause phase (which will do him well when he calls on those behaviors for the benefit of a wider audience), so I don’t think that realization hit him at the time.  BUT I NOTICED.  Sure he’s got a bulletproof suit and he can look Jim Gordon straight in the eye now and he can fling himself off rooftops like a champ (and when Alfred gave him the keys to the Batmobile I cried a little), but he’s no Batman.  Not yet.  Not quite yet.

But you can see without a shadow of a doubt that he’s gonna be!  Instead of this “Bruce Wayne woke up as Batman” story, we get a look at all the day by day choices and experiences that inform, shape, and depend on Bruce Wayne’s core identity and the way that they will collectively create Batman.

Now, David Mazouz may not have the character acting chops of a Pinkett-Smith or a Taylor or a Monaghan, and he may not be as comfortable living in a everyday character like Pertwee and Logue do so effortlessly, but there’s a steeliness a Bruce Wayne should have, a hauntedness, an idealistness, that Mazouz emotes in spades.  Sometimes his Bruce Wayne does a stunt or pulls a pose that Mazouz KNOWS is Batman territory, and while his awareness of “I’m doing a cool thing look at me doing it” is a little distracting--it’s also SUPER EFFECTIVE and I fall for it hook, line, and sinker.

I’ve always been one of those fans who’s way more interested in the lives and characters of the secret identities (compared to the heroics of the super identities) so hot diggity dog is this the show for me.  All Bruce Wayne all the time.  When we he does put on the mask, it’s all the more powerful for knowing who exactly is wearing it and what’s driving him to do these borderline insane things.

Not 100% sold on Ra’s’ “I saw this in a dream” strong-arm prophecy, feeling like it steps on four years of Bruce Wayne’s self-determination.  Not 100% on how they introduced him and his aims and his baffling reincarnation(s).  But I am 100% on the pronunciation of “Ra’s” because I’m aware that Kevin Conroy et al figured it out somewhere between TAS and Arkham Asylum, but it’s something that they never quite got in Arrow.  (Oliver consistently uses “raysh” but everyone else is a grab bag between that and “rawz”.)

For that matter, David Mazouz consistently pronounces Ra’s with two syllables, so there’s also that.  Wait, hold on.  In Gotham they also draw a hard line between Ra’s al Ghul, the man, and “the demon’s head,” some sort of mystical power of time travel and flashlightiness.  Give one point to Arrow for not being that bizarre.

Long story short, the shot at the finale where Gordon’s waiting on the GCPD rooftop with the spot light and Bruce Wayne stalks up behind him was BEAUTIFUL.  (They also did the thing some episodes earlier where Bruce peaces out on Gordon when Gordon’s mid-sentence with his back turned and I laughed a lot)

Looking forward to their take on No Man’s Land.  Here’s a short story for you at the end of this long story:

One time I was reading No Man’s Land volume by volume from the library.  It was tough because I checked the first time and they had the full set, but then you never knew that the next one was going to be available when you went in for it.

So I get out of the car one day and look there’s a quarter on the ground.  Neat.  It’s mine now!

Going into the library, there was a cart of used books for sale by the door.  25 cents each.  Hell, I’ve got a quarter now, let’s see what they got.

What they got is the No Man’s Land novelization.  For 25 cents, or, in my case, free.

So I read that instead, and turned out I liked it way better than the source comics.  I have a hard time reading comics?  I tend to not look at the pictures, and certain art styles aren’t my jam.  Also when it comes to narrative capabilities, there are different tools and effects inherent to each form, and I appreciated the literary treatment and the internal voice it brought to the table that the comics couldn’t.

Also the author said in the note that his method was to sit down and jam out minimum 2000 words a day and that’s still a feat I admire.

Anyway, that’s my long winded take on Gotham.  Not perfection, but certainly a respectable and authoritative representation of a subject matter we all know and love.  I give it my second favorite Batman portrayal (behind Kevin Conroy and above Adam West) and my absolute favorite live-action Bruce Wayne, hands down.

[dfroza]

not everyone will stand in the True illumination of the Son.

not all will listen with the heart to the Spirit’s call to open up and “believe…”

but for the children who are first chosen to be daughters & sons of our heavenly Father, their destiny is to become the Temple of the Spirit and the Word, who is the Son. our treasure is our Creator who seeks to renew our hearts & minds, and eventually the physical body as well all by a sacred act of grace that waits for our faith to contain this hope and to guard it (inside, Anew)

and Paul wrote of the eternal Son being inspired by the Spirit to do so to share with all of us in the [here, & now]

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 7th chapter of the Letter of Romans:

I write to you, dear brothers and sisters, who are familiar with the law. Don’t you know that when a person dies, it ends his obligation to the law? For example, a married couple is bound by the law to remain together until separated by death. But when one spouse dies, the other is released from the law of the marriage. So then if a wife is joined to another man while still married, she commits adultery. But if her husband dies, she is obviously free from the marriage contract and may marry another man without being charged with adultery.

So, my dear brothers and sisters, the same principle applies to your relationship with God. For you died to your first husband, the law, by being co-crucified with the body of the Messiah. So you are now free to “marry” another—the one who was raised from the dead so that you may now bear spiritual fruit for God.

When we were merely living natural lives, the law, through defining sin, actually awakened sinful desires within us, which resulted in bearing the fruit of death. But now that we have been fully released from the power of the law, we are dead to what once controlled us. And our lives are no longer motivated by the obsolete way of following the written code, so that now we may serve God by living in the freshness of a new life in the power of the Holy Spirit.

So, what shall we say about all this? Am I suggesting that the law is sinful? Of course not! In fact, it was the law that gave us the clear definition of sin. For example, when the law said, “Do not covet,” it became the catalyst to see how wrong it was for me to crave what belongs to someone else. It was through God’s commandment that sin was awakened in me and built its base of operation within me to stir up every kind of wrong desire. For in the absence of the law, sin hides dormant.

I once lived without a clear understanding of the law, but when I heard God’s commandments, sin sprang to life and brought with it a death sentence. The commandment that was intended to bring life brought me death instead. Sin, by means of the commandment, built a base of operation within me, to overpower me and put me to death. So then, we have to conclude that the problem is not with the law itself, for the law is holy and its commandments are correct and for our good.

So, did something meant to be good become death to me? Certainly not! It was not the law but sin unmasked that produced my spiritual death. The sacred commandment merely uncovered the evil of sin so it could be seen for what it is. For we know that the law is divinely inspired and comes from the spiritual realm, but I am a human being made of flesh and trafficked as a slave under sin’s authority.

I’m a mystery to myself, for I want to do what is right, but end up doing what my moral instincts condemn. And if my behavior is not in line with my desire, my conscience still confirms the excellence of the law. And now I realize that it is no longer my true self doing it, but the unwelcome intruder of sin in my humanity. For I know that nothing good lives within the flesh of my fallen humanity. The longings to do what is right are within me, but willpower is not enough to accomplish it. My lofty desires to do what is good are dashed when I do the things I want to avoid. So if my behavior contradicts my desires to do good, I must conclude that it’s not my true identity doing it, but the unwelcome intruder of sin hindering me from being who I really am.

Through my experience of this principle, I discover that even when I want to do good, evil is ready to sabotage me. Truly, deep within my true identity, I love to do what pleases God. But I discern another power operating in my humanity, waging a war against the moral principles of my conscience and bringing me into captivity as a prisoner to the “law” of sin—this unwelcome intruder in my humanity. What an agonizing situation I am in! So who has the power to rescue this miserable man from the unwelcome intruder of sin and death? I give all my thanks to God, for his mighty power has finally provided a way out through our Lord Jesus, the Anointed One! So if left to myself, the flesh is aligned with the law of sin, but now my renewed mind is fixed on and submitted to God’s righteous principles.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 7 (The Passion Translation)

marriage is a sacred lifelong covenant of husband & wife that was designed by our Creator. and sex on earth is meant for this bond exclusively.

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 26th chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah that points to a renewal of the body and of earth, along with God’s coming Judgment upon the wickedness of this world which mirrors John’s words in Revelation. and the chapter closes with a grand escape seen in the protection of God’s people for a time as a secret elopement away from this world:

When that time arrives, the people of this place called Judah will sing this song:

People: By the grace of God, our city is strong;

its structures and defenses He made secure.

Now open the gates to welcome the righteous,

so that those who keep faith may enter in.

You will keep the peace, a perfect peace, for all who trust in You,

for those who dedicate their hearts and minds to You.

So trust in the Eternal One forever,

for He is like a great Rock—strong, stable, trustworthy, and lasting.

He humbles the high and mighty.

Even the indomitable city falls before His strength, reducing it to dust.

The feet of the poor, the weak, the infirm and forgotten

will trample the dust of the formerly great.

The path of those who do right is straight and smooth.

O God, You who are upright, You make the way of the righteous level.

When we act in justice and righteousness—following Your laws—we wait for You.

We are eager to hear Your holy name and remember Your ways.

At night I long for You with all that is in Me.

When morning comes, I seek You with all my heart.

For when Your justice is done on earth,

then everyone in the world will learn righteousness.

If grace is extended to those who do wrong,

the perpetrators never learn what is right.

Even when surrounded by upright people, they gravitate to evil

and never even notice the awesome beauty of the Eternal.

O Eternal One, even when Your hand is raised against them, they do not see it.

When they finally do see how passionately

You act on the people’s behalf, they will be ashamed.

Ah, let the fire that consumes Your enemies consume them.

Eternal One, You are preparing peace for us;

in fact, everything we have accomplished has come from You.

Others have tried to rule over us,

but You, Eternal One, are our God.

At the end of the day, when all is done,

we acknowledge only You.

But now these would-be rulers are dead, never to live again;

these shadowy spirits will never rise.

You have punished and utterly destroyed them—

You erased every memory of them.

By contrast You have made this people great, Eternal One—

made this nation vital and strong. To you be all glory!

You have expanded the borders of this land.

When You corrected their wrongdoing, Eternal One,

they could hardly even whisper a prayer.

Weak with distress, they looked to You for help.

You witnessed us twist and turn before You, O Eternal,

like a birthing woman in agony of labor.

We were that woman, laboring to deliver,

but we gave birth only to futility and emptiness.

We couldn’t deliver the earth, save it, renew it.

We couldn’t make it teem with life.

But Your dead will live; their lifeless bodies will rise up again!

You who sleep in the dust, get up and shout for joy!

The dew of a new day will wash you glistening fresh,

and the earth will push forth those who had passed before.

O my people, hide in your rooms for a time. Shut the doors behind you

and hide away until God’s anger has passed.

See here, the Eternal One will emerge from His place

to punish the earth’s inhabitants for their wrongdoing.

The earth will not hide the blood that has been spilled into her dust;

she will no longer cover those who have been murdered.

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 26 (The Voice)

to be accompanied by these lines:

It’s time to awaken and sing for joy, you dwellers in the dust!

As the glistening, radiant dew refreshes the earth,

so the Lord will awaken those dwelling among the dead.

Go, my people, into your inner chambers

and close the doors behind you.

Hide for a little while, until his indignation is over.

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 26:19-20 (The Passion Translation)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Sunday, july 4 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about the significance of humility:

"For though the LORD is exalted, He regards the lowly, but the haughty He knows from afar" (Psalm 138:6). Yea, God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble (James 4:6). And who are the humble but those keenly aware of their own nothingness - the despised, the needy, and the rejected of men? The LORD justifies the ungodly by faith; He hears their cry for deliverance “from the depths”; he creates them anew yesh me'ayin, "out of nothingness," by making them into a “new creation” (בְּרִיאָה חֲדָשָׁה) through the agency and power of the Holy Spirit (Rom. 4:17; 2 Cor. 5:17). O praise Adonai Oseinu, the LORD God our Maker, for he looks upon the lowly, he is near to nishberei lev, the brokenhearted, and he binds up their wounds...

Just as the LORD made the world yesh me'ayin, "out of nothing," so His creative power continues unchanged. God is able to take a dead heart, a heart of stone, and make it tender and soft through the breath of His Spirit... Therefore His eyes look upon the lowly, the humble, the poor in spirit, but He disregards those who lift themselves up in pride.

Indeed, the LORD resists the proud and repays their scorn with scorn: "With the scorners he is scornful, but to the lowly he gives grace" (Prov. 3:34). Those who mock the idea of sin and arrogantly exalt themselves will be held in derision, but of those who find grace it is written, "Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers, but his delight is in the Torah of the LORD, and in His Torah he meditates day and night" (Psalm 1:1-2). It is a severe mercy, a weighty grace, that is bestowed to us, friends... [Hebrew for Christians]

7.1.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

July 4, 2021

When the Boughs Break

“When the boughs thereof are withered, they shall be broken off: the women come, and set them on fire: for it is a people of no understanding: therefore he that made them will not have mercy on them, and he that formed them will shew them no favor.” (Isaiah 27:11)

Like a mighty tree towering over the forest, God raises up a mighty nation from time to time, with a great leader, to accomplish some purpose in the divine plan. He “hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation” (Acts 17:26).

But when that nation and its leaders become proud, and its people become lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God, it becomes like a tree whose branches wither and whose core becomes riddled with insect-caused decay. Finally, the boughs break, the kingdom will fall, and down will come that nation, its leaders and all!

That happened even to God’s chosen nation, Israel, though only for a time, since God’s promises cannot fail. One after another, the mighty nations that God used to chastise His wayward people—Egypt, Assyria, Babylonia, Rome, etc.—have in turn been judged for their own rebellion against the God who “made them” and “formed them.” God has warned that “the wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God” (Psalm 9:17).

Is that about to happen to our beloved USA as well? The signs of self-seeking power and pride among our leaders and moral decay and spiritual rebellion among our people are widespread and growing worse. Our prayer should be that of the ancient prophet. “O LORD, revive thy work in the midst of the years,...in wrath remember mercy” (Habakkuk 3:2). “Wilt thou not revive us again: that thy people may rejoice in thee?” (Psalm 85:6). HMM

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Fan Novel (Book 2, Epilogue)

Notes: So, I have decided to start posting Book 3 next week. If I do one chapter a week, just like Pixelberry, I should avoid getting too far ahead. ;) Let me know what you would like to see me novelize next, if anything. Options I’m considering are Hero, It Lives in the Woods, The Royal Romance, and The Crown and the Flame. 

The next thing I am aware of is a bitter, biting cold, as if my very blood is frozen. Then violent tremors start to race up my spine. I hear my teeth chattering.

“Come back to me.” The voice above me is somehow familiar. “There you are.”

I feel myself rocking. Suddenly, my fingers and toes are overcome with fiery heat. I squirm as the liquid flames surge up my limbs. I hear myself moan.

“Wh...where...”

“That's it. You're all right.”

My eyelids flutter. I am immediately hit by a blinding light. I throw my hands over my face, pressing into the warm body that cradles my naked form against its soft bare skin. ...Wait, what? The spots start to clear from my vision, and I look up at the face above me. Yvonne the Incorrigible smiles down at me.

“...Yvonne?”

She winks. “Oui. C'est moi. You may call me guardian angel if you wish.”

“You...saved my life.” I blush as I look down and confirm that both of us are naked, wrapped in a blanket. “And you, uh...warmed me up, I guess...”

She laughs. “Don't be so prudish. If I ever have my wicked way with you, I promise you will know.”

I sit up carefully, looking myself over, stretching experimentally. I'm on a small trimaran, floating in calm, crystal blue waters. Dark red bruises stand out starkly on my pale skin, left by Mouse and the bullet that dented my armor. Said armor, and the clothes I had been wearing underneath, are piled at the prow of the boat, my backpack full of amber idols on top of it. I go for the bag first, carefully counting the idols to make sure they're all still present. Finding them all accounted for and unharmed, I slowly move to get dressed. Yvonne takes up the oars, rowing towards the shore. I look around me. To the north, a column of smoke rises from what has to be the MASADA complex.

“You were out for several hours. Do you remember anything?”

“...I fell...”

“Indeed. Very far, very fast, and very ungracefully.”

“Wait...you were there?” She grins at my shocked expression. “But how'd you know to be there? It couldn't have been luck.”

“I was dispatched to your aid by your red-clad friend.”

“...Who?”

“I could not say. But you have someone looking out for you.”

As I start to fasten the various pieces of amber armor on my body, it suddenly occurs to me how warm it is.

“Hold on...are we back in the tropical part of the island?” I look at Yvonne in alarm. “Where are you heading? We need to find the others! They could be hurt!”

“Mais oui. They could be. But La Mer will guide them where they need to go.”

“I need to find them, Yvonne!” I cry.

She pins me with a steely gaze, her eyes narrow. “As you said, you owe me your life. I gave you help, and now I am in need of yours.”

I want to argue further, but I am not in much of a practical position to do so.

“Where are you taking me, then?”

As the belly of the boat starts to scrape the shore, Yvonne hops out onto warm, white sand, and drags her vessel ashore. Drawing her cutlass, she points up at the smoking peak of Mount Atropo.

“There.”

* * *

Yvonne leads me through the dense jungle, slashing at the foliage in our path with her cutlass. After several hours, we emerge at the foot of the volcano.

“This is it,” she says. “C'est impressionnant, non?”

Yvonne gestures ahead. I look up and feel my heart drop, splashing into my stomach. A colossal stone temple is carved into the volcanic base. ...A temple in the shape of a dragon's head...a face jutting out of the mountain...eleven graves within the dragon's mouth.

“Oh, no...nonononono...” I shrink back from it.

“Ma petite blonde, you shiver like the timbers.” Yvonne clicks her tongue. “I thought you a braver soul than this.”

“I...I've been here before. I mean...I've seen it...” I swallow. “...What is it?”

“Welcome to the Threshold,” Yvonne replies.

“...The threshold of what?”

“We shall find out together, non?” She clasps shut an antique compass, the one I saw her take from the chest in the Jeweled Cave.

“...That compass...is that how you found this place?”

“A keen eye, you have. Indeed it is. In a manner of speaking, I died to steal it. Malatesta made me walk the plank for my thievery, though I maintain that it is he who stole it from me.” She looks at me. “When I came here, though, I encountered that red-clad demon. It told me that I needed your help.”

“My help?”

“You and your compagnons. But as you may be the last surviving one, I must settle for you.”

The helpless fear that filled me at the sight of the dragon's mouth mixes with rage at her callousness. I open my mouth to tell her where she can shove her compass, but whatever venomous words I might have spat at her are cut off when she grabs my arm and leads me forcibly into the darkness within the dragon's mouth.

“It's pitch-black in here,” I say instead, my voice sounding sullen to my own ears.

“Never fear. There is a proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. Make sure to stay near me, mon amour. It is easy to get lost in these tunnels. You could wind up wandering down here forever.”

Gradually, though, the world starts to take shape as bright red light trickles down from deep within the volcano. I brace myself to find graves or bones, but instead, I find myself in a large ceremonial chamber lined with lava spouts. A hunched figure in the center startles at our arrival.

“An intruder?” Yvonne snarls, pointing her cutlass. “Surrender, fiend!”

“I...I mean you no h—Alodia?”

My eyes widen as I place the voice. “Uqzhaal?”

The Vaanti shaman hobbles forward, taking shape through the gleaming red light. “Blessings of Vaanu, it is you!” He embraces me warmly, and I return the gesture.

“It's good to see you.”

Yvonne raises an eyebrow. “You are friends? Was it not his people who imprisoned you for life?”

“We ended up having common interests,” I say simply. “Uqzhaal, this is Yvonne. She's how we escaped Sharktooth Isle.”

“Ahh, the boat thief.” The shaman nods sagely. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Yvonne balks. “Pardonnez-moi, but I steal much more than just boats!”

“Of course.” Uqzhaal turns his attention back to me. “Alodia, I had heard such terrible news, of foreign warriors coming to slay you! Some of our scouts returned from the battle at the chasm and feared you dead!”

“I nearly was...and I'm not sure about the others...”

I fill him in on everything that has transpired since we left Elyys'tel. From the Arachnid's attack to our infiltration of the MASADA complex, to the molten wasteland we found on the other side of the Lernaean Gate, to Aleister's betrayal and our near execution, to our escape attempt and the destruction of the MASADA complex.

“...I'm sorry, Uqzhaal. Rourke...he has the Island's Heart.”

The old shaman's brow creases. He turns away, staring into the lava's glow.

“This is truly terrible,” he murmurs. “The Hydra with such incredible power...We must ask the Endless what to do.”

“I do not know half the things of which you speak, and I care for even less,” Yvonne declares flatly. “But if we are here to see the same person, then we can work together, non?”

“...How do we talk to the Endless, Uqzhaal?”

“The Catalyst idols were the keys the Endless bestowed unto us. When we could unite all twelve, that meant that we as a people were ready to learn its secrets.” He gestures to the twelve pedestals surrounding the stone bridge on which we stand. “But our people were not worthy. We lost the Idols in the Three Tribes' War. This is why I sought them. This is why I sought the Catalysts. Each of you has a special connection to your idol. I needed your help to commune with the Endless and learn the truth behind stopping Raan'losti. ...But if what you say is true, and Raan'losti has already come...I know not what we can do.”

“...Okay, so we put all twelve Catalyst idols on these pedestals, and then we get to learn the truth behind the Endless? And it's beyond this lava moat here?”

“So claim the legends. Did you manage to find the idols on your journey?”

I pull off my backpack and show him the twelve amber statues nestled inside. “All twelve. Every last one.”

“Incredible!” he breathes.

“You are truly incomparable, mon amour,” Yvonne agrees. She grabs my face and jubilantly kisses both my cheeks.

“...Right. So...where do I place them? In what order?”

Uqzhaal shrugs. “That, I cannot say.”

“...Guess I just have to go with my gut then...”

One by one, I pull out the idols and place them on the pedestals. My instinct tells me to keep them in the same order we were laid out before, month by month by month.

Andromeda, Lupus, Canis, Cygnus, Aquila, Draco on one side. Delphinus, Serpens, Corvus, Centarus, Ursa, Pavo on the other. The instant I place Michelle's idol, the floor starts to rumble under my feet. Rings carved into the bases of the pedestals begin to rotate to new positions.

“The gears are turning!” Uqzhaal exclaims excitedly.

“I can't believe that worked! I thought it'd be some crazy, complicated...” I trail off as one stone wall slides aside, revealing a series on symbols painted underneath the panel. I sigh. “Okay, this is kinda what I was expecting.”

I look at the wall. Underneath a crude painting of a bloody knife are six symbols. Beneath that is a painting of a skull over a pair of shackles, and underneath that, five more symbols. Underneath that is one more drawing, of a series of...waves? Mountains? Each is topped with a small white...hell, they might be nipples on breasts for all I can tell. And underneath them is another series of nine symbols.

“Look!” Yvonne exclaims. “Above us!” Throw my eyes to the ceiling, where a circle in the ceiling is opening up to reveal a second series of symbols. Three groups of four symbols, and then one group of ten.

“What are we supposed to do with these?” Yvonne wonders.

“It's some kind of puzzle,” I reply.

“The trial of the Endless will prove our worth!” Uqzhaal declares. “We shall solve it in no time at all!”

He sounds confident, but I can't tell if it's bravado. I look from the wall to the ceiling.

“Some of the runes on the wall are the same as those on the ceiling,” Yvonne muses. “Perhaps they are letters.”

“Of what alphabet, though?” I wonder.

“Perhaps early Vaanti,” Uqzhaal suggests. “Or perhaps something pre-dating us all. But it is clear the runes are spelling out words. ...Or...names.”

“...Names?”

He nods. “If this trial was created by the Endless to test us, perhaps the names are the ones taught to us by the Endless itself.”

“You mean...” I frown, looking at the wall again. “...Those sigils on the wall...those must be a clue...”

“Do you recognize them from anywhere?” Yvonne asks. “They all seem to suggest death.”

“Death?” I repeat. “I mean, the first two certainly do, but the last one...I can't even tell what it's supposed to be. Water? Mountains?”

“I count eleven of them,” Uqzhaal remarks.

And suddenly it hits me like a baseball bat to the head. My heart starts to pound. I know exactly what I'm looking at. “...Oh, god...they're graves. Those things on top are headstones.”

“Does this mean something to you, mon amour?”

“...It means that this trial was meant for me,” I say flatly. I close my eyes. The bloody dagger. ...Thrown by Rourke, burying its blade in Zahra's heart. The shackles around Jake's wrists pulled tight against Mouse's throat. ...Eleven graves. And only one left alive to dig them. “...Corvus. Lupus. Andromeda.”

“Quoi?”

“Those are the names on the wall. Zahra. Jake. Me. ...The answer is going to be in English.”

“You are certain?”

“Positive. Like I said. This trial was meant for me. It's either English or Spanish, because those are the two languages I know. Now if everyone could kindly quiet down for a moment, I need to concentrate.”

I let my eyes flick from wall to ceiling and back again. Mentally, I spell out names, linking up runes with letters and transferring them from wall to ceiling.

S-A-V-E... - - E-M... - R-O-M...

I don't even need to spell out the last word entirely. I curl my hands into fists at my sides and speak the message of the Endless into the chamber, my voice loud and clear.

“Save them from themselves.”

The whole room shudders in response. The idols begin to glow.

“What...what is happening?” Uqzhaal gasps.

“I don't know!” I cry in response. The idols glow brighter and brighter, each with a white-hot light in its center. Then, all at once, they dissolve into amber, leaking away down the sides of their pedestals. Left behind, resting in the basin of each pedestal where the idol had been is a small, crimson pool. “Is that...blood?”

Yvonne crosses herself. “What fresh hell is this?”

Water begins to pour from a series of spouts, hitting the lava with a steamy blast. White fog, painfully hot, engulfs my vision. I throw my arms up in front of my face.

“It's finally happening!” Uqzhaal breathes. “After so many generations of waiting...”

Impossibly quickly, the lava cools and hardens, and the steam begins to dissipate. I delicately test the lava with one foot. Then the other.

“It's safe. We can cross.”

“The path is opened,” Uqzhaal says reverently. The three of us venture into the darkness beyond the Threshold.

“After all that,” Yvonne mutters. “More tunnels.”

“Hush! There is someone up ahead.”

“What? I don't see any--” My voice dies in my throat as I see it. Black against black. A figure of shadow. “Who's...who's there?”

“Show yourself, coward!” Yvonne snarls.

A ball of flame appears in the dark, casting tongues of red-gold light over the walls. The flickering glow is reflected in the black visor of a red helmet.

“I've waited a very long time for this meeting,” the figure in the red spacesuit says. Their voice crackles through a speaker, modulated and electronic and impossible to place. The ball of flames flickers above a crude robotic right hand. Uqzhaal drops to the ground in supplication.

“Endless One...please, your faithful servants seek your help! Let us commune with you at last--”

“They always say 'at last,'” the Endless sighs. “As if they are the first. They are never the first. All that matters is if they are last.”

Every fiber of my being is electric with primal terror. Every instinct screams at me to run, but I swallow my fear and approach the red-clad being.

“Who are you? What do you want with us? What do you want with the Vaanti?”

“Having made it this far, you must already realize what is at stake,” the Endless replies.

“Yeah,” I say sharply. “The world is gone. Destroyed. We thought we could stop it, but it's already happened. ...Can you help us? You seem to have control of time.”

“Time is inevitability,” the Endless replies. “I know no inevitability. I will be here until this spinning rock and the sun that lights it are cold as the void. But it's no longer a matter of what I can do.”

Once again, I feel exhaustion, fear, and desperation blending in my gut into white-hot rage that bubbles up like magma and blocks out everything else.

“I've had it with the games!” I snarl like a wild dog. “Tell me now! What is the meaning of this?! What are these idols?! How do I stop these futures from happening to my friends?!”

“Futures?” the Endless repeats mildly. “The idols do not show the future.”

“Wha...what do you mean? I saw those visions. I watched my friends die! How is that not the--” I trail off as the truth comes crashing down on me. All the strength leaves me, and I sink to my knees in despair. “...Because they already died.”

“Yes,” the Endless confirms. “Again and again and again. And every time...every time I was there.”

A vision flashes through my mind. Rourke's office, where Zahra's body lies crumpled on the floor, the dagger hilt jutting from her heart. Only now, I see the Endless there too, cloaked in shadow, watching silently.

“...I saw them die,” the Endless continues, their voice sounding almost mournful even through the modulation. “So many times, I saw them die. But it wasn't enough for me to see. You needed to see too. That's why I made the idols.”

Another vision. This time I see Jake, his body cold on the floor of the stasis room at MASADA. The Endless hunkers over him, drawing dark blood into a long syringe in their hand.

“You mean...all this time...in the idols we were carrying...”

“A piece of your own mortality. It was necessary to forge the psychic link. To let you see the path.”

I feel my gorge rising as tremors race up and down my spine. I clutch my belly, trying to calm my raging stomach. “Oh god...oh my god...”

“This...cannot be true!” Yvonne murmurs.

“I do not understand,” Uqzhaal says.”This has happened before? All of this?”

“Two-thousand one-hundred thirty-nine times, to be precise,” the Endless replies. “The first time I went back to them, they died before my eyes. So terribly. Some of them didn't even make it a full day. I knew I had to help them. To guide them.”

I lift my eyes to look into the Endless' visor. “...What...?”

“I tried to intervene directly, but I quickly learned that the laws of time can be...unforgiving.” The Endless flexes their bionic arm, and I see the ragged stump just below the elbow. “I had to be more subtle. To change as little as possible. To influence indirectly. I left clues. Sigils. Symbols to aid their journey. To keep them alive.”

I remember being back at The Celestial, in the kitchen, and Raj turning to me with a frying pan in his hands. He said that something about the symbol stood out to him...

“All those symbols we found...that was you?”

“Yes. But it wasn't enough. The symbols kept them alive until they met the Vaanti. But that meeting always ended in death.”

Another vision flashes through my mind, of the cliffside outside Elyys'tel. A group of Vaanti warriors stand holding bloodied swords and axes. The broken bodies of my friends lie at their feet.

“The Vaanti were too hostile,” the Endless continues. “Too guarded. Every encounter saw the group massacred, no matter what they did. Changing the group wasn't enough. I had to change the Vaanti. So I went back. Further than I'd ever gone. And I shaped them.”

… Another flash. I see a beach at night. Ancient Vaanti, the ancestors of the tribe, huddle in reverent awe. The Endless stands before them, bathed in light, the very vision of a god.

“They will return to you!” they declare. “The Catalysts! They will stop Raan'losti!”

The Vaanti raise their hands in prayer and acceptance.

I recoil a little. “So you...made up the idea of the Catalysts...just so that centuries later, the Vaanti would help us? Their entire religion...was just a means to an end?”

“No...” Uqzhaal whispers. “No...it cannot be!”

“I did what I had to do. To protect them.”

“Mon dieu...”

I let my eyes fall to the ground again. “All this...just to keep us alive...? Why didn't you just go back and stop us from ever coming here?”

“My travel is limited to the time bubble surrounding La Huerta. I can never leave this island.”

I clutch my head. It's throbbing as I try to process what I'm hearing, to understand. I shake my head, whimpering.

“This is...this is too much...”

“Don't despair. The next stage of our journey begins here. After 2,139 loops, the cycle is broken.”

“What do you mean?”

“The temple is a test. A test that could only be passed under certain conditions. All twelve idols united. All twelve functional.”

“...Functional?” But even as I say it, I understand. I see visions that feel like memories now...visions of previous timelines, previous times I've made it to this temple...

“I don't understand,” I murmur. “Why aren't Raj and Michelle's idols lighting up?”

“Perhaps it is because they perished when the sea monster attacked,” Yvonne answers heavily. “The idols may only work if they're alive.”

“So...this is the first time...? The first time I've made it this far...with everyone still alive?” It's overwhelmingly frightening, but that thought makes hope flare to life in me. ...They are alive. All eleven of them. They're alive.

“Yes,” the Endless confirms. “All our friends yet live.”

My blood runs cold again. “...'Our' friends...?”

The Endless reaches up and presses a latch at their neck. There is a hiss of decompression. They reach up with their hands, one flesh, one iron, and lifts the helmet from their head. All sensation leaves me. Uqzhaal and Yvonne and the whole chamber seem to fade into static.

“Oh my god...” I whisper. “...Oh, my god...”

“I had to be sure you were ready, Alodia,” the Endless says gently. “Now our work can begin.”  

I can't answer. I am staring at the face of the Endless. A woman of flesh and blood stares back at me. The pale skin of her face has gone slack with age, her hair gone thin and gray. But in her blue eyes, I see the truth. I know the face before me.

...She is me.

...I am the Endless.

[thatkinkytrashcan]

Broken Blades pt. 3

Summary: After a moment of desperate passion between brothers, Vergil falls into the hands of their father's greatest enemy.  With his very mind and soul stolen by Mundus, Vergil knows nothing but the want to fulfill his Master's every desire.  And to protect their precious son, Nero.

Pairings: Dante/Vergil, Vergil/Mundus, Vergil & Nero, Dante & Nero

Warnings/Tags:

Sibling incest, DT sex, knotting, cum inflation, m-preg, Vergil is Nero’s mom, rape/dub-con, mental and emotional manipulation, brainwashing, amnesia and identity issues, forced c-section without anesthesia, child abuse, threat of future sexual violence made to a child, Mundus is a really bad parent, rampant speculation on demon/half-demon biology

  III.         Forming

Nelo Angelo gasped, wrapping his fists in the silken bed sheets beneath him.  The skin of his stomach went taught under the force of the contraction, sending pressure rippling from his back into his lower abdomen.  They were coming so close now, and despite the pain, his anticipation was far stronger.

The memories of being found by Master Mundus, alone, abandoned by everyone else, were hazy and too far away.  Dimly, he recalled that he'd been angry when Mundus initially touched him, but what a fool he'd been to feel that way.  Master had only wanted to protect him, and Nelo Angelo was so very glad to be able to give the one he owed his life a gift from his own pathetic body.

A child.  Their child.

Watching his belly grow as their offspring did brought him incredible joy, knowing this life he was nurturing would be for his master's happiness.  It had been a long gestation, at least compared to human norms, and Nelo Angelo already felt so close to the baby.  He spent much of the last month of his pregnancy laying in bed, speaking softly in the hopes that his little one would know his voice the moment they emerged into the world.  His fingers twitched and then clenched again as another contraction rolled through him like a tidal wave.

It would be soon.  He would finally get to meet his child.  He wanted so badly to touch his swollen stomach as if that could comfort the being inside him, but the hag attending his birth wanted no obstructions while she worked.  The next contraction left him gasping for air.

"Master, now?"  Nelo Angelo glanced at Mundus standing at the bedside, transformed into a figure that was too beautiful to be human.  Long, dark hair, three piercing eyes, almost difficult to look at in his glory.

Mundus smiled resplendently.  "No."

Confused, Nelo Angelo blinked at him.  In his own, ugly human form he didn't have the correct external structures to give birth, so he had assumed his master would want him to transform into his devil shape which could convert itself in the necessary ways.

But Master didn't find his Devil Trigger very appealing, and Master was wiser than he.

Another contraction bowed him upward, and Nelo Angelo tried very hard to breath through it.  His child, Master's child, would be the end result of all this agony.  What a worthy sacrifice.

"It's time," the hag declared, curving her boney fingers around Nelo Angelo's stomach.  Some part of him despised the touch so close to what was precious to him, but it was what Master wanted.  He would endure it.

Mundus nodded at her, a terrible smile curling his lips, and Nelo Angelo choked off a scream when she slashed open his abdomen with her impeccably sharp nails.  The unexpected pain was more shocking than what his own body had been inflicting on him.  He had to clench his fists even harder to keep himself still as she dug into his stomach, pushing organs out of the way, and coming to where the baby was nestled inside him.

"M-Master?" he questioned.  He shouldn't question, he knew that, but…

"It's better this way," Mundus explained.  His marble-cold fingers brushed over Nelo Angelo's jaw.  "You look so much more like your father in this shape."

"If t-that makes you happy, Master," he said, though he didn't understand.  His throat tightened as the pain became overwhelming, but he was thankful that he didn't make too much noise.  Master only liked it when he screamed for him.

The hag made a sound of interest when she pulled the baby from his torn womb, and an insistent, mewling cry filled the opulent room, bringing a smile of relief and wonder to Nelo Angelo’s lips.  He watched in amazement as the newborn squirmed in the hag's hands, healthy and covered in viscera, so real and utterly, completely perfect.  For a moment, he thought he might shed the tears that burned in his eyes.

"A male child," she said, peering in fascination.  "Very human looking, though.  I see no outward evidence of devil blood, but I can feel it within.  He will be quite strong someday."

Nelo Angelo desperately wanted to hold him, but he dared not ask until Master approved.

"Clean it up," Mundus instructed.  "Let's give my concubine a moment to recover."

The stone-chilled fingers touched his face again, and Nelo Angelo pressed into the cold.  He could feel his body stitching itself together, organs shifting back into place and flesh mending on its own.  Only the wetness of his blood soaking the sheets made it uncomfortable.

"Are you pleased with your son, Master?" Nelo Angelo asked anxiously.

"My son?"  Mundus looked puzzled for a few seconds.  "Ah yes, of course.  I believe he will be… beneficial."

"Beneficial…"  He shouldn't be disappointed, Nelo Angelo reminded himself.  Master knew best.  Being useful to Mundus was part of being loved by him; you made yourself useful to him because you loved him, and he was sure every one of Mundus' servants felt the same.

The baby's cries intensified, and Nelo Angelo tried to lever himself up to see what the hag was doing with his child.  He couldn't get a clear enough view to ease the prickling in his heart that the plaintive noises brought out.  "Master, is everything alri--?”

"I have a gift for you."

Nelo Angelo blinked in surprise.  "A gift?  For me?"

Mundus smiled and held out a gold amulet set with a large red stone.  Something ached in the back of his skull at the sight of it, and Nelo Angelo tried not to recoil when his master leaned in to settle it around his neck.  The weight tugged at things under his surface that he didn't want to confront when he was already emotionally upheaved.  Why did he feel like he knew this necklace?

"This will remind you who you belong to," Mundus said.  "Any time you see it, you will know you are mine.  I bid you to always wear it."

"Thank you, Master," Nelo Angelo said quietly.  He should be grateful for this blessing, so why did the bright jewel make him bereft?  It was disorientingly warm in his palm.

The hag approaching was a welcome distraction, and Nelo Angelo craned his neck to see the bundle in her hands.  Wrapped in a luxurious black blanket befitting the son of the Underworld's mighty king was their precious, wailing son crowned in damp silver hair.  Whatever thoughts of despair had been welling inside him fled immediately.

Mundus took a moment to inspect the baby but didn't touch him before nodding.  Nelo Angelo held out his arms in a silent request.  He didn't really have any rights to ask for anything as a concubine, but he was thankful when the hag lay the child on his chest.  This thriving weight tugged on something inside him too, something oddly close to the amulet.

"He's so beautiful," Nelo Angelo whispered in awe.  The baby finally quieted into little whimpering snuffles when he stroked the downy hair, and pure blue eyes looked up at him from a round face.

It was a moment before Mundus spoke.  "I'm… sure he will be quite remarkable when he grows older.  Perhaps just as lovely as his mother."

"I hope that he looks like his father," Nelo Angelo said quickly.  Because he did.  Mundus was magnificent and ethereal, not so pitifully human as Nelo Angelo.

A strange smile tilted Master's thin lips.  "How intriguing that would be."

Unsettled, Nelo Angelo drew his son closer.  It might be unfair to ask Mundus to bond with the child as quickly as he had.  Nelo Angelo had carried this life inside himself for months and months, and Mundus might need more time to forge a connection.

"Master, what shall we call him?" Nelo Angelo asked.

"A name.  Hmmm…"  Mundus stared at the baby, still smiling mysteriously.  "I think… Nero.  So he takes after his mother.  Obedient and delicate, a black angel."

"A very good name, Master," Nelo Angelo murmured.  He looked down at his son, his Nero, cradled in his arms and wondered why his heart throbbed so painfully from Mundus' wishes for their child.

But it would be fine.  His wonderful Master would make everything right in the end.

Previous: https://thatkinkytrashcan.tumblr.com/post/631365074601279488/broken-blades-pt-2

Next: https://thatkinkytrashcan.tumblr.com/post/631365260458196992/broken-blades-pt-4

[donaldresslerfanfic]

Hunting.

Rating: M

Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Content.

Word Count: 2355

Donald Ressler X OC Maggie Waters.

Chapter: Thirty Three.

Chapter Index

Story on Wattpad

Maggie.

I got back home that very night Donald came to look for me.

I was not expecting him to come and get me. I thought I knew him well and he wouldn't stop until he got Liz. But when I saw him standing there in my house, when he told me he'd picked me, I gave in. He picked me, even if it was just for that day, he picked me.

My sister jokingly -and not jokingly- had done the whole 'blink twice if you're not going willingly'. I assured her I wanted to go back with Don.

Loosing the trail on Raymond hadn't stopped him. He still went to work every morning, checked statements, security cameras, tips, anything he could get his hands on. A whole month went by like that.

I, on the other hand, spent them alone in the house, caught up with remodelations in the house, waited for Don, some nights we went out, mainly to distract him from everything. But a month was a month and that was all I needed to realize I had to go back to work.

I showed up unninvited to my old work, making Gina spring out of her seat and greet me. She invited me into her office and over a cup of tea she briefed me. Ha, briefed me, speaking like Donald aren't we?.

"He sold the company" referring to my boss "he got divorced and that kind of killed him. It was recently so it hasn't changed names. We have a new architect who is 100% not you" she chuckled. I was slowly sipping my tea while I listened to her. "I don't like working with her, her style is kind of... I don't know, I'm not an architect so I won't comment but we had some clients who came back after they got your work done by you, and they complained a lot that you weren't here. We lost a few clients after that. I'm still employed here but I'm taking a second job in another architect firm."

"That sucks" I could only comment.

"I hope you made bank with that other exclusive client of yours, and word of advice, move on from this place."

Truth was, I had made bank. Raymond exaggerated immensely my pay check, always cash, I had it stored away in a safe room I'd built under the stairs in my house. I kept it a secret because one; Donald, and two; I didn't like to brag. Yes I bought myself nice things, changed the car, but aside from that I lived modestly.

And also, I'd lost almost all my marriage savings with my dad's illness, so now that I had gotten almost all of it back and paid the medical bills it was a good thing I stopped, it made me nervous to know the amount of money I had in my place.

"I came back because I'm done with that exclusive client. And I don't know what else to do, I'm bored" I whined.

"We can start job hunting together, or if you come back we can lift this thing up. Our new boss let's us do whatever we please"

The door knocked, Gina gave me a little eye roll and walked up to open it. A middle age man walked, slick suit and tie and a warm smile

"And who might this be?" He said looking at me.

"This is Maggie Waters"

"Ah, the Maggie Waters." I chuckled and extended my hand to shake his.

"She was just telling me that she's free to come back"

"Oh, wouldn't that be lovely. Let's head to my office to talk something out shall we?" He motioned at me to leave the office. I gave Gina quick wave and walked to what used to be Paul Bronton's office. " The name is William Ruso by the way" he said while walking behind me.

He reached out and opened the door of the office.

"Please, struggle for the cameras" I frowned and turned to him, well tried. Since my back was to him he pinned one of my arms behind my back, twisting it painfully and placing a clothed hand over my mouth and and nose. A sharp stench hit my nostrils and I could immediately feel the dizziness.

Still, I pushed my head back and managed to hit him on the cheekbone. He didn't follow up with a punch or tried to stop me, but what I assumed was chloroform was already hitting me back hard.

I stumbled out of the office and onto the emergency exit, I already knew where it was, just a few steps down the office. When I grabbed the handle and got out, the body of another person pushed me to the open door, again putting his hand over my mouth. This time I screamed as I was grabbed by the waist, I tried to put my feet up and kick but another one grabbed me by the feet to help carry me.

I felt a sharp sting on my neck, then nothing.

Ressler.

I returned to Maggie's home late at night. I was, again, very confused as in why her house was so quiet, and why she wasn't here.

Nothing had happened, we were fine, this morning we had our breakfast, we talked, kissed, I repeated how much I loved her, there wasn't a logical reason for her not to be here.

I dialed her phone with mine, this time the line had been disconnected. I frowned in confusion and retraced our conversation in the morning. She hadn't mention anything out of the ordinary, we were going to start watching Narcos tonight.

I wasn't going to call her sister, not until I knew for sure what had happened.

I didn't know who to call or where to go, except for one person. In half an hour I was knocking on Aram's apartment.

He was really weirded out that it was me late at night. He opened the door to let me in and I talked as I entered.

"I think Maggie is missing, I need your help to track-" I stopped when I saw Samar sitting in the dinner table, I felt annoyed that I had interrupted something, but I needed to find Maggie.

"Maggie is missing?" She asked with worry on her voice as well "when was the last time you saw her?"

"This morning, before I left for work. She told me she would call me for lunch but she didn't, it didn't came across as odd"

"Okay" Aram said grabbing his computer and opening it "cellphone" he looked up at me. I recited the number to him, Samar was already with her phone on her ear.

"It says it's disconnected" Samar said after checking for herself what I already knew

"Yeah, I could only narrow down the location to a 10 block radius using the last signal received almost 6 hours ago" Aram finished looking up at me. I walked around the apartment and began thinking.

"Can you get a satellite image of the area?"

"And look for what?"

"Her car, maybe it was towed"

"Okay, yes, a black Toyota was towed on Connecticut Ave at 4 pm, in Cleveland park" he said after a few taps in the keyboard

I frowned and turned to Aram.

"What? Does that ring a bell?" He asked.

"Yeah, it's her work address"

"We should get going, if the car was towed at 4 pm it must've been parked for at least 3 hours before the firm had it moved. And now it's been another 5 hours. Her trail is getting cold" Samar said and stood up from her seat.

"I'll head to the post office, I'll have better access from over there" Aram said closing his laptop and holding it to his chest. Before we walked out I looked at both of them and gave them a thankfull look.

"Thank you for helping me"

"You're welcome" Aram said, I looked to Samar who just nodded at me.

We got in motion, Aram headed to the Post Office while Samar and I drove towards Maggie's old work address.

When I got there, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, I walked towards the door of the building and looked inside, the lights were off and nothing seemed changed.

Samar and I walked to the side of the building, finding a little alleyway on the side. Halfway in there was an emergency door and a few dumpsters.

"Ressler" I heard Samar call me, she was a few steps ahead. I walked quickly to her and looked up to where she was staring. "there's a security camera in that store, it's pointing this way. We can ask tomorrow for the footage"

I didn't like tomorrow, she was presumably taken before lunch, that's 8 hours from now, she could be anywhere, Reddington could've put her on a plane and taken her off the city, off the county, off the goddamned continent.

I looked to the side to another dumpster and saw little glints, I moved a paper bag out of the way carefully. Her cellphone was broken, the screen was shattered in pieces. Carefully I took it and placed it inside a evidence bag I always had on me.

"If she was here, she more than likely spoke to Gina, I'll go to her place and get a statement" I said to Samar.

"It's almost 10 pm" she replied, as if it was going to stop me. I turned around and walked back to the car. Samar followed by without saying anything and the drive there was also silent. I was trying really hard to convince myself that this was Reddington that took her, because if it was someone else, then things weren't going to be pretty.

I arrived at Gina's place, walked to the door and knocked, the lights of the house were out, but one upstairs wasn't.

It took a few minutes, but Marcus opened the door at last.

"Marcus" I fished my bag and showed it to him, identifying myself. "This is Agent Navabi, we need to ask a few questions to Gina. It's about Maggie"

He frowned, but let us in, he walked us to the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker, then walked upstairs to get Gina.

She showed up a few seconds later, covering her body with a bathrobe. She looked worried and a little scared

"Don hey" she saluted, I motioned at her to the chair and she sat down. I saw Marcus pour some coffee for us out of the corner of my eye

"Maggie, you saw her today?"

"Yeah, she came to work, talked for maybe a half an hour and then she left with my boss, why?" Her expression changed "did something happened to her?" She whispered at me.

"She didn't return home" I said weary, Gina just gasped a little horrified and her eyes immediately filled up with tears, she let out a strangled 'oh my god' before Marcus walked to her and pressed his hand to her arm. I lead my own hand to her arm and squeezed it tight. "Gina, your boss, Paul Bronton, where can I find him?"

"Paul isn't-" she choked up, cleaning her tears "he isn't our boss anymore he s-sold the company"

"To who?" I pressed. She cleaned up more tears again and managed to spit out the name William Ruso.

I quickly texted Aram to get me information on any William Ruso there was.

"I'll need you to come with me to get a statement, you're the last person who saw her, and I'll need to register your workplace" Samar took over for me while I began watching the photos Aram was sending me to my phone. Then he called

"Unless he is doing business from the grave, a William Ruso did recently purchased the company from Mr Bronton. But like I said, this Ruso died five years ago from terminal cancer"

"I have her phone, it's broken though, can you do anything with it?" I asked, moving a little away from everyone.

"Yes, definitely, bring it back and I'll check it out" I hung up and out the phone back in my inner pocket, looking at Gina. She was looking inside her purse.

When I was going to tell her that we needed to go as soon as possible she handed me a set of keys. I looked at them and then back at her

"Those are the keys that open the back room, the emergency exit. We made copies a few months ago after the entrance was being renewed and we had to enter through the alley." She explained. I put the keys in my pocket and nodded at her thankfully.

On my way to leaving Samar with Gina at the site I called a sketch artist to get a proper look at this new boss, I gathered a forensics team and headed back to Maggie's workplace.

Knowing I would need a warrant, I called Reven Wright to let her know I had a Reddington related case, and she agreed to see me the next morning, but gave me the go ahead to search the place.

It was almost 1 am when I came back to the blacksite, Gina was gone, Samar was getting ready to leave as well, Aram had been working on the phone, but besides recovering what little he could about her contacts list, we would have to wait until tomorrow to scope the security cameras to get a look at the van that took Mags.

I sent Aram home, Samar also left, I ended up alone in the office. Besides receiving confirmation that the prints we took from the handrail of the emergency exit were Mags, all I could do was wait, and I hated that. I hated knowing that every minute she wasn't here was a minute she was traveling farther away, and knowing how hard it was to get Reddington in all the years I spent looking for him, she was going to be impossible to track down.

[focusontheeasternlightning-blog]

What Is More Valuable Than Money

By Shunxin, Thailand

Editor’s Note: If you have someone like this in your life, someone who wants to become wealthy but never succeeds, and who lives in torment, how should you help him escape his misery? 

What follows is the experience of author Shun Xin, whose predicament was precisely this, but today she can calmly evaluate her monetary gains and losses, and has found a wealth more valuable than riches. How did she emerge from her torment? And what is this wealth more valuable than money? Let’s discover these things through her story.

Struggling in Vain to Become Wealthy

I experienced the shame of poverty and the hardship of life as a child, so I became determined to study hard and become rich in the future, to enjoy wealth and luxury, and to have others admire and look up to me. After more than ten years of bitter study, I was only able to enter a third-class university, but I wasn’t discouraged. I believed that as long as I worked hard, I could still become rich.

After graduating from university, I found a job as an English teacher. When I learned that my colleagues who worked for two years were only paid just over 2,000 yuan, I resolutely resigned. Later, I went to training schools in Shanghai and then Qingdao to work in sales. Every day, from morning to night, I constantly called people to sell our products, and through significant effort, my monthly salary reached nearly 10,000 yuan. Just when I was eager to do something even bigger, school leadership changed, and I was fired for no reason. I didn’t want to go, but there was nothing I could do except leave with regret.

My Desire Stimulated Again After Coming to Canada

After I got married, my husband and I came to Canada to start a business. I was unable to work because of my pregnancy, so I went to church to worship. When I first went to church, the pastor welcomed me very enthusiastically, but when he learned I wasn’t wealthy, he ignored me and treated the rich people in the church with enthusiasm and flattery. The pastor’s attitude confirmed even more for me the importance of money. In our era, when everyone looks to money, if you have money, you have everything, and without it you are looked down on everywhere. That’s when I made up my mind again to make more money and make those who looked down on me see me in a new light!

After I had my first son, I went to work to earn money, and no matter how difficult the work, I didn’t care. Later, I again became pregnant, and I was physically weak at the time. But, despite this, to earn more money, when my youngest son was just a month old, I started an import repurchasing business with my friends. I spent every day staring at my phone to learn about products, and even while I breastfed my child I was researching sales skills, Internet promotion techniques, and so on. Because I had to look at my phone for a long time every day and often stayed up late at night, my eyes hurt so much that I couldn’t open them and my back was stiff and sore, but I couldn’t let anything stop me from earning money, so I had to work from my bed. Because I devoted so much attention to my work, I didn’t have any left over to care for my children. Once, my oldest son grabbed my phone from my hand and threw it to the ground in anger and complained that I spent all day on my phone instead of spending time with them. But my son’s accusation didn’t make me feel bad, for I thought that if I couldn’t provide them with a good life, what is the point of spending time with them? We live in a society that cares only about money, and even though money can’t do everything, you can’t do anything without money! Only money can allow you to enjoy a better life, hold your head high, and make others look up to and admire you. Even though I realized I was pushing my children further and further away, and the realization tormented me, I continued to focus solely on my importing business.

Later, to make more money, I worked part-time in direct sales. After working hard for a while, I made some money, and I was very happy. My voice became loud when I talked to people, and I felt very proud when I sent money to my parents. It felt good to have money! Sometimes when I looked at my uplines, who had tens of thousands in monthly salary, enjoyed luxury, and lived a good life, I thought to myself that as long as I developed more downlines, I could be just like them before too long! Unfortunately, things didn’t go as smoothly as I expected. I spent a year to train ten downlines, but no one was willing to work with me, so all I could do was go back to where I started in my business. This predicament was a particularly frustrating setback for me. That year, I worked from dawn to dusk to train my downlines, so why was that the result?

Turning a Blind Eye When Salvation Comes

This was when God’s gospel of the last days came to me. My brothers and sisters saw how I agonized and lived in misery to earn money, and fellowshiped to me, “The amount of wealth we have in life is preordained by God, and no amount of our own effort can change it. The Lord Jesus said: ‘Take no thought for your life, what you shall eat, or what you shall drink; nor yet for your body, what you shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much better than they?’ (Matthew 6:25–26). God created us, gave us breath, and gives us what we need to survive under His care and protection. We don’t need to be anxious or worry about the future. As long as we work normally, we will have sufficient clothing and food. We have all seen how some people think of nothing but earning money, and work overtime and off-hours, and in turn lose their chances at intimacy with God and to hear God’s voice at meetings, and how their bodies collapse from exhaustion. God wants us to be content with sufficient clothing and food, but Satan thinks of ways to corrupt us. It makes money occupy our hearts, makes us want to earn ever more, and gives us insatiable desire. What are these but the tricks of Satan? Only by letting go of our endless desires and obeying God’s plans and arrangements can we ever find ease and release!” After hearing my brothers’ and sisters’ fellowship, I thought, “There is wisdom in what you say, but in today’s society, where the only thing we recognize is money, won’t I have to live the same shameful life I experienced before? No, I still need more money.” So, even though I accepted God’s gospel of the last days, I still expended all of my energy on my direct sales business. The first thing I did when I got up every morning was to send advertisements, reply to messages from customers, and so on. I had no time to spend on my spiritual development. In every prayer I asked God to bless me and my husband with great wealth. That was how I believed in God, to the point that at meetings, I even secretly posted direct sales advertisements.

Seeing Through Satan’s Tricks From the Revelations of God’s Word

After my brothers and sisters learned about my situation, at a meeting they showed me a passage from God’s word, “‘Money makes the world go round’ is the philosophy of Satan and it prevails among the whole of mankind, among every human society. You could say that it is a trend because it has been imparted to everyone and is now affixed in their heart. People went from not accepting this saying to growing used to it so that when they came into contact with real life, they gradually gave tacit approval to it, acknowledged its existence and finally, they gave it their own seal of approval. Isn’t this process that of Satan corrupting man? … So after Satan uses this trend to corrupt people, how is it manifested in them? Don’t you feel that you couldn’t survive in this world without any money, that even one day would just be impossible? (Yes.) People’s status is based on how much money they have as is their respectability. The backs of the poor are bent in shame, while the rich enjoy their high status. They stand tall and proud, speaking loudly and living arrogantly. What does this saying and trend bring to people? Don’t many people see getting money as being worth any cost? Don’t many people sacrifice their dignity and integrity in the pursuit of more money? Don’t many more people lose the opportunity to perform their duty and follow God for the sake of money? Isn’t this a loss for people? (Yes.) Isn’t Satan sinister to use this method and this saying to corrupt man to such a degree? Isn’t this a malicious trick?” (“God Himself, the Unique V”).

After reading God’s words, one of my sisters fellowshiped to me, “In the past I didn’t understand why all of mankind worships money, why people spend all of their time and energy trying to make money, why people would rather make themselves sick than stop pursuing it, or why some people would even fight with others over money, deceive each other, struggle viciously, and even murder one another. But after reading God’s word, I know that money is a trick Satan uses to corrupt and harm mankind. Satan saturates our world with all kinds of atheistic theories and books and stories about great and famous men, and imbues us with notions such as ‘Money isn’t everything, but without it, you can do nothing,’ ‘Money is first,’ ‘Whoever gives me money is my father,’ so that we think that money is the most important thing in our lives, that if we have money we have everything, that we can win others’ admiration and do the things we like, and that we will feel accomplished if we have money. Otherwise, we think we will be belittled and looked down upon by others, and that we will have no place in society. We are imbued with these mistaken ideas, so we spend all of our time and energy to make money, we have no interest or attention for anything else, we even sacrifice the health of our bodies to earn money, and we become slaves to money. Even if we accept God’s salvation, we are still endlessly busy in pursuit of money, we have no interest in pursuing the truth or worshiping God, we are unable to fulfill our duties as created beings, and we live under the domain of Satan, far from God’s care and protection….”

My sister’s words cut straight to my heart. I have always believed that in our society that worships money, it takes wealth to live with dignity, be respected by others, and to have your words heard and respected, so it was right to pursue great wealth. After I graduated, I started trying all kinds of work, and as long as they earned money, I persisted no matter how difficult. After I had my son, I disregarded my weak body and continued my importing business from my bed. To make money, I spent nearly all of my time and energy on work, which put so much distance between myself and my children that sometimes they even ignored me. When God’s salvation came, I didn’t know to cherish it, and when my brothers and sisters fellowshiped God’s will, my heart’s desire for money wasn’t moved at all. I sent direct sales messages at meetings, and even in my prayers I only asked God to allow me to make more money. I always thought it was right that I pursued money, but after reading God’s word, I learned that this thought and notion comes from Satan, that this is only a trick Satan uses to harm and corrupt people. Satan imbues us with these notions because it wants us to be busy all the time pursuing money and a luxurious life to satisfy our vanity. It wants us to be willing to expend all our energy, far away from God’s care and protection, to control and harm us, and even take our own lives in pursuit of these goals. I thought of how I had worked all these years to make money, how I had wounded my eyes at a young age, how I had given myself permanent back pain, and how I had grown further and further apart from my children. Wasn’t Satan the dark power behind all this?

My sister also said, “In today’s society, those without money do everything in their power and sacrifice everything to get it. Meanwhile, some big bosses, rich people, and celebrities, even though they have wealth and enjoy a luxurious life, still feel empty, and some even choose suicide. From this, we can see that money only gives us temporary relief and enjoyment, and that those with money fall further and further into depravity, live extravagant, indulgent lives, and that when it passes, they are still left with emptiness and pain. If we do not go before God and gain the watering and supply of God’s word and do not understand the truth, we will never be able to see through Satan’s tricks to corrupt mankind, can only become ever more deeply entrapped by money, and in the end we can only be toyed with and harmed by Satan!”

After I heard my sister’s words, I thought: That’s right, today God has expressed the truth and does the work of saving mankind, allowing us to completely escape Satan’s corruption and control and gain God’s care and protection. I was fortunate enough to be chosen to accept God’s salvation in the last days, so if I continue to pursue money instead of the truth, even if I do become wealthy one day, what use will it be when God’s work of salvation concludes? When the great disaster comes, won’t it all be for nothing? Just as the Lord Jesus said, “For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” (Mark 8:36). Once I understood these things, I no longer wanted to bitterly pursue money and be fooled by Satan. I considered that I would have to invest all of my energy to develop downlines in my direct sales business, which would leave me with no time to care for my children or go to meetings or fulfill my duties, so I chose to give up direct sales and only work in the repurchasing business, which was much less demanding of my time.

Obeying God’s Arrangements, Seeing God’s Blessings

After some time passed, I discovered a problem with one of my partners. She didn’t take her work seriously, and frequently sent her customers the wrong products, which led our customer service ratings to get continually worse. When I tried to resolve the problem with her, she ignored me, and our sales continued to decline. Helpless, I had to stop working with her and abandon all my customers and my 5-star WeChat shop. It was bittersweet to think that this shop already had 5–6,000 customers, and if I kept operating it, I would have made more money than ever, never had to worry again about food or clothing, and everyone would see me in a different light, but now I had to give it away. If I didn’t, though, I wouldn’t be able to find a suitable partner. It felt as if I had walked into a pit of quicksand, was being slowly sucked in, and couldn’t free myself. In my helplessness and torment, I could only continually pray to God and ask for guidance.

When a sister learned of my situation, she showed me two passages of God’s word, “What occupation one pursues, what one does for a living, and how much wealth one amasses in life are not decided by one’s parents, one’s talents, one’s efforts or one’s ambitions, but are predetermined by the Creator” (“God Himself, the Unique III”). “The fate of man is controlled by the hands of God. You are incapable of controlling yourself: Despite always rushing and busying about for himself, man remains incapable of controlling himself. If you could know your own prospects, if you could control your own fate, would you still be a creature?” (“Restoring the Normal Life of Man and Taking Him to a Wonderful Destination”).

After I read God’s word, I instantly understood. I am only a created being, and my future, fate, and life are all in God’s hands. God has preordained how I make my livelihood and how much I earned in this life. But I lacked true knowledge of how God rules and preordains, so I pursued money with all my strength, worried about financial gains and losses, felt tormented when I gave up my WeChat shop, and even worried about how I would survive in the future. I lived in anxiety and torment. Even though I didn’t know how my life would go in the future, I trusted that God had made suitable arrangements for me, so I ought to courageously entrust my future to God. Once I realized this, I felt much more at ease. I prayed to God to say I was willing to give my work over to God and entrust my life to God, and willing to let Him guide me on my future path.

Afterward, I had more time to read God’s word, and I attended meetings with my brothers and sisters, where we fellowshiped on our experiences and understanding. I brought my children before God. Every day, I read God’s word and sang hymns with them, and our relationship took a turn for the better. What surprised me even more was that after I parted ways with my partner, my husband’s business drastically improved. I saw that God’s arrangements for me were truly wonderful, and my heart was filled with gratitude for God.

Understanding the Truth and Living by God’s Word Are My Greatest Wealth

Afterward, I read these God’s words, “When you repeatedly investigate and carefully dissect the various goals of life that people pursue and their various different ways of living, you will find that not one of them fits the Creator’s original intention when He created humanity. All of them draw people away from the Creator’s sovereignty and care; they are all pits into which humanity falls, and which lead them to hell. After you recognize this, your task is to lay aside your old view of life, stay far from various traps, let God take charge of your life and make arrangements for you, try only to submit to God’s orchestrations and guidance, to have no choice, and to become a person who worships God” (“God Himself, the Unique III”). After I read God’s word, I sniveled as I thought back on the path I’ve walked. I lacked knowledge of how God rules over all, so I thought only of making money and becoming wealthy, and in the end caused so much suffering for myself and my children. If God hadn’t saved me in time, I would have been sucked ever deeper and deeper into the quicksand pit of money, singularly pursued money, and moved ever farther away from God, until Satan finally swallowed me. God saved me and used His words to guide me, allowed me to break through Satan’s schemes, and allowed me to see clearly Satan’s evil intentions to use money to pull people far away from God’s care and protection and control and harm them, and made me understand the correct path to take in the future. I became willing to let go of my own mistaken pursuits, entrust my future life to God, and obey all of God’s plans and arrangements. I genuinely felt that only by coming before God and living by God’s words could I feel true ease and release and experience true peace and joy in my heart.

Today, I am performing my duties in the church and living under God’s guidance, and I feel secure, at peace, at ease, and release. I have the most valuable wealth in life—understanding of the truth, living by God’s word, and I have the love and salvation of the Creator! Thanks be to God!

[jarienn972]

Mirrored - Chapter Five

I am so sorry to anyone who was following this story!  It was my first fan fic story for this fandom and being a Tumblr newbie, I thought I had the remaining chapters queued correctly, but oops - I found out they never posted.  I reblogged chapter one with links to Chapters 2-4 for anyone who wants to get caught up but here is Chapter 5.  There will be 8 total and I will get them up on the site by the end of the week.

Complete story on FF.net and AO3.

From the beginning on Tumblr: Chapter One  Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four

After nearly twenty agonizing minutes, Whale finally emerged from Killian's room. Neither Snow nor David could get a read on his expression as he approached them. Behind him, they could see one of the nurses reopening the curtain but from the angle where they were standing, they weren't able to see inside.

"Well?" David asked impatiently.

"We were able to get him stabilized," Whale replied. "I've given him an anti-convulsive medication that will help control the seizures and we were able to get his fever down to under 102 degrees. It's still higher than I'd like to see, but at least it's in a safer range."

"Oh thank goodness," Snow breathed a sigh of relief.

"Let's not get too excited," Whale continued. "We still don't know how much time this bought us. If someone doesn't come up with the antidote pretty soon, we may be just prolonging the inevitable."

"You don't know Killian the way we do. He's going to fight this with everything he's got," Snow stated, if for nothing else than to make herself feel better.

"I surely hope that you're right," Whale said, "because he's still got one heck of a fight ahead of him. I did increase the sedatives so he's back into a deep sleep again, but he was having such a difficult time breathing that I had to make the decision to put him on a ventilator. If you're not familiar with that machine, it basically is one that breathes for him by way of a tube placed down into his windpipe. I wanted to warn you because it might be a little disconcerting, but there really wasn't another option."

"Thank you," Snow told him, now really unsure of what to expect. "Are we able to go back in to see him now?"

Whale nodded. "I'll check on him periodically throughout the night. Let me know as soon as you see or hear from Emma though. I'm going to need to speak to her."

"We will," David assured him as Whale left them, heading off down another corridor. He had a very good idea of what Whale needed to discuss with Emma, but he tried not to think about it as he again wrapped his arm around Snow, pulling her in tight to him. "It's going to be alright," he said. "I can't believe that I'm saying this, but I trust Regina. She's going to find the right flower to make the antidote."

"For Emma and Killian's sake, I sure hope so," Snow said as they stepped back up to the glass wall and peered into the room before stepping inside. Even with Whale's warning, Snow gasped a little at the sight before them. The doctor had not been exaggerating when he'd said that the sight of Killian being aided by the ventilator would be troubling, but it wasn't just that. The whole scene disturbed her. Neither of them said a word as they stepped through the doorway, not because they feared waking him but rather out of pure shock.

Finding the reality of the plastic tube extending from the corner of his mouth and connecting to multiple other intimidating looking tubing and hoses a bit much to take in, Snow found herself unable to even look at Killian's face, instead noting the minor details. A small square gauze bandage had been taped to his chest, covering the puncture wound Whale's syringe had inflicted when injecting the anti-convulsive drug. The back of his hand was also bandaged as it had bled when the IV needle was torn loose. A new IV was taped securely in place to the inside of his wrist, directly over the old tattoo of Milah's name.

"It's after one AM," David began, sensing her tension. "I'm wide awake now. I'll stay until Emma gets back. Why don't you head home and get some sleep?"

"I feel like I should stay though. What if Emma needs me?"

"Then I will call you," he assured her. "Go home. Try to sleep. I promise to let you know if anything changes."

"Alright," she sighed, giving him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "Please let me know when you talk to Emma. I don't care what time it is."

"I promise," he replied, not sure exactly how long that might be. He'd hoped that she would have at least sent a text message by now. Clearly she was fixated on finding this rouge pirate, but with each minute that went by, he became more concerned.

***************************************

This time, Killian knew where he was before he was even able to open his eyes. The welcoming scent of the marine air embraced him like an old friend; the sound of waves striking the dock and sails flapping in the breeze were like music to this pirate's ears.

"All hands on deck, Pirate!"

There was that sweet little voice again, he thought as he opened his eyes to find himself standing on the deck of the Jolly Roger.

"Is that any way to talk to the Captain of this vessel?" he smiled, seeing only the very top of a blonde head and two tiny hands above the helm. Laughing as he ascended the steps to the navigation deck, he saw Maeve poised on her tiptoes trying to maneuver the huge wheel. Thankfully, they were still moored in the harbor or who knows where they'd be now.

"You told me that a proper pirate princess should know how to captain her own ship," she stated firmly.

"And so she shall," he replied, sliding a storage trunk across the deck for her to stand on. He hoisted her up atop the trunk and guided her hands to the proper position on the helm. "Tell me where we're navigating to today, Captain?"

"The Enchanted Forest."

"Then off we shall go. Twenty degrees to starboard!"

Without any guidance from him, she turned the huge wheel clockwise. Child after his own heart. Part of him actually wanted to cast off the moorings, but not knowing exactly how things worked in this dream world, he felt it best to stay put in the harbor.

"Calm seas ahead," she giggled, turning to give him a huge hug that felt so real that for a moment, he nearly forgot that he was only dreaming.

**************************************

Now after four AM, Emma had been all over town in search of Devereaux Sinclair, leaving her physically and emotionally exhausted. She'd give the pirate credit – she knew how to hide, but if she really wanted to trade the mirror for the antidote, being evasive didn't make much sense. It was almost as though this were just a part of some sick game that Emma really didn't want to play. Whatever history Devereaux and Killian had, it was pretty evident that they hadn't ended things on good terms – at least not from Devereaux's perspective. Killian didn't appear to be bothered by whatever was implied, possibly having forgiven her enough to let her go earlier. Devereaux was another story. Maybe she was just a sociopathic crazed lunatic. No matter what, Emma was determined to get answers out of her and hopefully, the antidote too, - assuming Devereaux even really had it and this wasn't just another ploy in her game.

But nagging in the back of Emma's head was a lingering bit of guilt. If she hadn't been engaged in such a long meeting with Regina discussing that stupid compact, she would have already been back at her office before Devereaux broke in. It would have been a very different confrontation had she been there. The pain in the ass pirate would already be behind bars and Killian wouldn't be fighting for his life in a hospital bed.

Of course, she knew that second guessing herself wasn't going to help them right now. Hindsight was always perfectly clear when the present and future were muddy. She had to focus so, as she sat in her car parked on the street in front of the Sheriff's station, she reminded herself of the task at hand. It was at that moment that she felt the weight of Killian's hook, still tucked securely inside her jacket as she'd wanted to keep part of him close to her heart. She lifted it from her pocket and held it lovingly in her palm for a few seconds, long enough for a tear to escape the corner of her eye and drift down her cheek. Only a few hours ago, they'd been happily strolling arm in arm along the waterfront and then Devereaux Sinclair and her damned mirror crossed their path…

The mirror.

Why hadn't she thought of this before now? With a flash of realization, Emma placed the hook on the seat next to her as she dug into a different pocket to locate the compact. It had shown her a vision earlier, and if Regina was to be believed and this compact really could function as a crystal ball, perhaps she could get it to give her some clue as to where Sinclair was hiding.

"Wonder how you get this crazy thing to work?" she asked herself as she pressed the button to open the compact. Seeing her own reflection – bloodshot eyes and weary, gaunt face - all she was seeing was her own face. "Come on," she pleaded with it. "You showed me something before. Do it again."

She nearly regretted asking for the object's help as the first fuzzy image came to life in the bottom mirror because what it showed her was a view of Killian laying deathly still in the hospital bed with her mother seated by his side. It reacts to emotion, she thought. She'd been sad when she picked it up and worrying about Killian, so it gave her an image of him. She needed to change emotion and think about what Devereaux made her feel.

Anger.

Anger and frustration.

Channeling those emotions, the image in the bottom mirror began to change. The shadow of a female form came into view, at first only a dark profile. Emma needed more though. She needed something to identify where Devereaux might be and as the scene played out on the tiny mirror before her, a familiar setting was displayed in the background.

Her office.

Devereaux had apparently been interrupted early in her search when Killian found her and she had returned to continue her search for the mirror, apparently (and incorrectly) assuming that Emma would be entirely preoccupied with him. But how recent was this image? This may have been from earlier in the evening and there was a good possibility that she was long gone – a possibility that vanished as Emma spied a flash of light that flickered between the blinds on the station's front window.

A flashlight – and in the misty image displayed on the mirror, Devereaux was holding a flashlight.

She was still inside.

Emma snapped the compact closed as she pushed open the door of her little VW bug and stepped out into the street. Time to show this little pirate wench that you don't mess with the sheriff or her family in this town. She stormed up to the front door and – taking a page from Regina's playbook – blasted it open with magic. No use being subtle, Emma thought to herself as the door flew off the hinges. She didn't care if it had to be repaired later.

She wanted to make an ENTRANCE.

"I know you're here, pirate," Emma shouted, "and you can quit searching. You won't find your mirror in my office or anywhere else in this station because its right here in my hand!"

"That was quite a display," Devereaux replied as her head lifted above Emma's desk and into view through the glass partition. "I may have underestimated you, Sheriff. You have me at a bit of a disadvantage as I'm not a practitioner of magic."

"Step out of my office and give me the antidote."

"Hand over my mirror and we'll negotiate."

"This isn't up for negotiation," Emma stated as she waved her hand to close and lock the side door to her office, leaving Devereaux with only one path out. "Where's the widowsbane antidote?"

"Yeah…that…," Devereaux laughed, stepping through the door frame with an almost sadistic smile on her lips. "I kinda left it back on my ship."

"Then let's take a little trip out to your ship so you can get it."

"You think it's that easy?" Devereaux grinned. "Unless you happen to know of a portal back to the Enchanted Forest, it won't be an easy jaunt."

"I thought you told Killian that you arrived here by your ship being blown off course in a storm?"

"Not exactly. I got here through a portal after stealing a few magic beans from a sorcerer so that I could find a way back to the Jolly Roger."

"Why were you searching for the Jolly Roger?" Emma wondered.

"Because it's the last place I saw an object I've been hunting for a very long time. I'm sure by now you've opened the compact and since you obviously have magic, you know what it is."

"A looking glass."

"Exactly! A looking glass that came straight from the shores of Wonderland, but it was missing its handle. The last place I saw what I believed was the handle before the Queen's curse struck was aboard the Jolly Roger. Hook blocked me from taking it years ago and I've been searching the realms for it ever since. Little did I know that it had been brought to this strange new land."

"It's what you were after in the safe this afternoon, wasn't it?"

"Aye, and it's what I went back to search for again after our encounter here in your office. Damned if I could figure out how to open that safe though. I'll give him credit for that one…"

"Encounter? That's what you're calling it? You poisoned him!" Emma patience had waned and her face flushed crimson with anger.

"It really wasn't personal. I needed a diversion and it was a perfect one to keep him off of the ship, and of course I thought it would keep you busy, pining at his side. As I said, I may have underestimated you."

"You honestly thought that poisoning him with a deadly toxin was just a tactical diversion?!" Emma had had just about enough of Devereaux's cold, smug attitude.

"Just business," Devereaux responded nonchalantly. "Yours is upholding the law, mine is breaking it." She held up a tiny glass vial that appeared to contain the same purple dust that had been all over both Killian's skin and clothing as well as Emma's office earlier. "Now, I'd like my mirror back, if you please or I'll throw this. Think your magic is fast enough to stop a cloud of toxic dust from spreading?"

"Yeah, I do," Emma replied and with a quick wave of her hand, the vial vanished from Devereaux's palm and rematerialized in Emma's possession. "And now I'm done dealing with you."

Emma tapped into her rage and frustration, flinging Devereaux into the wall then quickly got a magical grip around the pirate's throat, dragging her out of the office without ever actually laying a finger on her.

"What are you going to do – kill me?" Devereaux asked when Emma loosened her grip around her neck. "Go ahead. I know your type. You can't do it…"

"I have no intention of killing you. You're not getting off that easy." Emma waved her hand again to cause the iron barred door of the holding cell to swing open, then with one more flourish, tossed Devereaux across the room and into the cell. The pirate slammed hard into the concrete block wall, then slid slowly down to the bare concrete floor as the door slammed shut before her.

"You can tell Captain Hook I said goodbye," Devereaux spat. "Because unless he knows where the handle is, he'll never get the antidote."

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"With the handle attached, supposedly the looking glass gains the ability to open portals. It might be the only way to get to the antidote on my ship because you won't get it any other way."

"Guess it's a good thing that Regina is already working on a batch of the antidote then."

"Regina? The Evil Queen? If she told you that she can make the antidote here then she lied to you. There isn't a way to make the antidote here because the flower needed to brew it doesn't grow in this land." As Devereaux began to laugh over the realization that Emma had actually believed the Evil Queen's words, Emma threw her one more time, slamming her into the cell's tiny, bare cot.

"I'll be back to deal with you later, Sinclair. And just so you don't get any ideas about trying to break out…," Emma sealed the cell lock with her magic so the pirate wouldn't have any dreams of picking it. She then backed away, leaving the station with its door still laying on the floor. No one else would be crazy enough to break into a Sheriff's station anyway.

Right now, she needed to calm herself. She was angry that Regina had lied about the antidote and now that she'd learned that Devereaux didn't have it either, she was scared. Climbing back into her car, her eyes were immediately drawn to the shiny steel of Killian's hook as it reflected the street light above her. She had every right to be upset and Regina had a lot of explaining to do but right now, all she could think of was that she needed to be at his side – no matter what the outcome may be.

***************************************

Hours into their research, the mountains of books had now spilled off of the library table into the floor and as dawn approached, Regina was growing increasingly frustrated. There had to be something. She refused to believe that with all of the flowers and plants in this land, there wouldn't be one that was related to a thimble flower. So far though, while she had found numerous references to thimble flowers, nothing mentioned anything outside of the Enchanted Forest.

"All of this is really beginning to make me hate flowers," Regina stated, slamming the cover of the book in front of her closed.

"Regina, please – many of these books are delicate. Could you please show them a little respect?" Belle's concern was genuine, but right now, Regina was really to tired to care.

"Are we looking in the right place?" Regina wondered.

"We are. There just aren't a lot of books that cover multiple realms, but I found this old journal that might be useful." Belle strolled over to the library table and showed Regina an ancient, sheepskin bound personal journal with a battered cover and pages that were brittle and yellowed. "It's the personal notes of an alchemist who used portals to travel through many different realms collecting flowers, plants and other items for his experiments and potions."

Regina's interest was piqued.

"Any mention of thimble flowers?"

"Not yet, but I'm only a few pages in. Its actually quite fascinating."

"Fascinating is wonderful. Relevant would be better." Sarcasm was flowing freely now as Regina was growing more weary and fatigued. "Let me know if you find anything useful."

Regina grabbed the next book from the stack and turned her attention toward it. Time was running short and so was her patience. She was ready to turn a toad into a thimble flower, but she knew it wouldn't work. Hell, she was ready to turn Devereaux Sinclair into a toad – and maybe she would after Emma got done with her. Maybe something lower than a toad? A cockroach perhaps so she could savor the satisfying squish under her heel?

But first she had to find something to make the antidote or things were going to get really challenging in this town. The last place she wanted to find herself was standing directly in front of a pissed off Emma Swan.

[sirladyscripts]

After the Inquisitor and her companions complete Keeper Hawen’s final request, he invites them to join the clan for the night. Solas gets moody, thinking about the way things were for his people and how they are now. Remli tries to allay some of those worries by painting a different light on the Dalish lifestyle. Post Fade-kiss, pre-balcony Solavellan romance.

Also, no, this is not an April Fools joke. I LIVE!

When the Inquisitor and her party arrived with the last of the pelts for the clan, the sky was already fading to a purple blush with a sprinkling of stars. The clouds burned across the horizon in rich reds and yellows, and the ruined markers along the road stood as tall black shadows against the fading daylight. To the west, the clan’s fires were burning high and the smell of roasting meats wafted through the air, and to the Inquisition troop, weary from a day of hunting the Venatori and the undead, it made the march back to their base camp tents seem all the longer. Remli paused at the edge of the Dalish setting, remembering other clan gatherings around other campfires in what seemed a completely different lifetime ago.

Keeper Hawen found her watching the halla bedding down in the protective cave, her mind miles away. He touched her arm with a small smile that deepened as she blinked away old memories.

“You and your people are welcome to join us for the evening, Da’len,” he said, inviting her towards the fire with the sweep of his hand. “No daughter of the Dalish should spend the night in a shem tent where there are family aravels nearby.”

She looked around the clearing to see where the others of her party were waiting, standing apart from the small band of elves—not in a fearful or disdainful way, it was more a separation of polite respect, a separation of cultures. Of course, Varric seemed most interested in what was going on, scratching his chin and making thoughtful noises under his breath. Cole was… well, she didn’t see him, but she also didn’t hear any angry noises around the camp, so he was probably alright. And Solas… well, Solas was watching her.

When he caught her eye, he gave her a slight smile and nod. Apparently he’d heard Hawen’s offer, and she took the gesture to indicate that he would not be adverse to spending an evening among her people. Whatever previous slights the Dalish had shouldered on him, he seemed willing enough to bear their company tonight, and Varric would go along with it. Maybe he felt that the nearby ruins would provide ample intrigues in the Fade. Maybe he thought her homesick, and believed she would benefit from some time amongst her people once again. Maybe he was hungry—the smell of the spitted meat did smell rather good. And it was a long walk up the river back to the Inquisition camp….

She opened her mouth to thank Hawen for the invitation when her stomach growled, apparently overcome by the scent of cooked venison.  She flushed, sheepish, although Hawen only laughed.

“Dinner, Da’len, and then we shall speak, and you can tell me more of how a child of the Dales comes to lead a pack of humans and.. city elves,” he said, giving Solas a curious glance, but then turning back to guide her towards the fire. As they walked, he motioned to the others of the group to follow suit.

 It was… odd, to say the least. On the one hand, everything felt familiar—over dinner, the laughing and talking of a clan after a busy day, after the meal, the short bursts of song and tales of travels. Sharing news of mutual friends, lauding a youth with freshly inked vallaslin, commiserating on poor traveling conditions. Murmuring prayers for those who had not made the journey, and wondering at the fate of clans and friends lost in the forests, unseen for years.

Of course, it was different, too. The sights and smells that would have once been welcome reminders of home now seemed strange, unfamiliar things in light of her new rituals and habits with the Inquisition. She was looking forward to sleeping under the stars, but a part of her missed the soft blankets and bedroll that awaited her back with the Inquisition supplies. She’d gotten used to the quiet whickerings of their mounts—now, the bleat of a halla gave her pause. It was a normal Dalish sound, part of a normal Dalish camp, but it had become unfamiliar. It made her stop, think, remember. Had she really forgotten the familiar sounds of her people so quickly, to replace them so easily with the sounds of human habitations?

She lifted her gaze from the fire, and caught sight of Solas at the edge of camp. He was alone once again, sitting half in shadow under the trunk of the tree sheltering the aravel. He watched the clan go about the business of settling down before sleep, but his lips were tight, his eyes partially closed. He fiddled with the traces tied to his staff, worrying over some thought that niggled at him.

Something weighed heavily on his mind, so much that he did not realize she approached until she’d touched his arm. He started and his eyes met hers, then some of the tension left his face. She smiled, keeping her touch light.

“Everything alright? You seem...” She floundered at that, trying to decide the best way to describe the slightly sour, thin lipped expression that had settled on Solas’ face. Dorian would have suggested ‘constipated’, and Varric, had he been paying attention, would mention something lewd and potentially rude to the clan. Cole, bless him… well, it was fortunate Cole was with Emalien, they were still working on teaching the boy tact. Remli tsked, then decided to finish the thought with neutrality. “You seem unquiet.”

He sighed and shook his head, turning his attention back towards the heart of the group where bedrolls were being laid out by the fire.  

“I am contemplating the remnants of the People. Are all clans so diminished? Nothing more than a handful of people, scraping out a life from the paltry earth?” he said asked, frowning at the group surrounding the fire. His voice seemed hollow, expression tight, as though the fate of the scattered clans was his burden to bear, and he staggered under the weight.

She wanted nothing more than to embrace him, to help dispel his gloom and draw him closer, into the clan’s warmth. Still, she hesitated—it had been weeks, and there had been moments where he’d seemed like he wanted to say something more, but they had not spoken further of what happened in the Fade, and she was loathe to press him with too much unsolicited physical contact when he wavered on uncertainty. She would not push the matter, not when all signs began to indicate that his interest was not as keen as her own. And he was a private man—unsolicited touch might seem too forward and bold, and unwanted signs of affection might frighten him back behind that cool mask she’d worked so long and hard to draw away.

There was also the clan to consider—their numbers were small, it was true, but their eyes were sharp, and their hunters skirting the camp, keeping watch. And while she didn’t particularly care about scandal or her reputation among the Dalish clans, she knew Solas valued his pride and privacy. She would not cause him any duress with a lingering touch that would become gossip halfway across the Dales by morning.

All in all, she settled for a friendly pat on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, then sat down beside him. Bold, perhaps, but she was the Inquisitor, damn it. She could take some social liberties, especially when she was so intimately familiar with Dalish customs (and when one could feasibly smudge the line of propriety). And Solas had never shied away from her when she sat next to him. Besides, it would be easier to talk, side by side.

She ignored Hawen’s interested glance, and focused instead on pointing out key areas around the campsite.

“Each clan is different in size and build, but I can tell you without hesitation that we’re not seeing this group in its entirety,” she said, giving him a reassuring smile. “Once a clan finds an area to camp for any length of time, everyone sort of wanders off to complete their jobs. Hunters go off to restock the meat stores and keep an eye out for things of interest, while crafters may go out foraging for supplies or things to trade. Firsts and Seconds may go off to perform rituals at local shrines, which can leave them away from the camp for hours or even several days. It’s not uncommon for a clan to scatter while they’re camped—especially after spending extended periods of time in the aravels. I used to sleep in trees, just for the air.”

She pointed to the clan’s aravel, still undergoing repairs. “It may not look like much, but you can fit a fair number of people in one of those, plus supplies. And most of my clan preferred riding or walking along our fleet, so we only had three or four at a time, depending on the time of year and how many supplies we needed to carry with us. But we had 30 to 40 people at any given time, usually.” She gestured out into the woods, shrugging her shoulder.

“And most clans have caches of supplies so they don’t have to carry everything along with them. Warded, of course, and hidden, but there in cases of emergency. I cannot speak for this clan, but Lavellans have multiple areas of rest and restocking all over the Free Marches.”

She laughed, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “And, of course, there are other times that clan members desire privacy—even in times of war, sometimes it’s worth the risk of bedding down away from the rest of your clan, who are more or less your immediate and extended family, and as such feel entitled to knowing each and every intimate detail of your life.”

This brought a small smile, although the tension did not completely fade from his face. He studied the clan members around the fire, then looked beyond the stream to the war-torn fields in the distance.

“Still, it seems such a tentative existence, being at the mercy of the wilds and weather,” he said. “To live such a life, and yet flourish, it is no wonder the Dalish are considered fierce in their clashes with humans.”

“We’re hardly Avvar barbarians, Solas,” she laughed. “We don’t actively stand in thunderstorms, challenging the gods to strike us with inspiration. And we’re not city elves, bending and scraping to every human we meet, trying not to get kicked or killed. We live in the woods, the plains, the hills, the valleys, but that hardly makes us uncivilized.”

She paused, thinking of a mountain of pillows and furs waiting for her back home. “I will concede a point to the humans where beds are concerned, however. It beats sleeping on rocks.”

They fell into silence once again, each lost in their own thoughts. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine they were back in the Free Marches, resting after a long day of hunting in the hills. The smells were familiar, the sound low and welcoming. Hawen even reminded her of her father—a bit, anyway—and his clan had always travelled farther South and West than the Lavellans. It wasn’t surprising that the keepers knew each other—of course they would, given that they would meet at the Arlathvhen, and no doubt kept in correspondence in the years between.

Still, as she sat there and listened to Varric’s attempts at wheedling more information out of the Keeper, it struck her how odd it was to go to the broken Dales, the place of her people, and feel… Pride? Sorrow? Bittersweet nostalgia? That was how she figured she was supposed to feel, anyway, but she also looked forward to camping in the woods with her companions. Human, dwarf, elf, Qunari—their little band had fast become home over the last few months, her own ragtag clan of misfits trying to save the world in their own unique ways—she had to wonder, when had they become more than allies in the war?

“Do you miss it?” Solas asked, interrupting her thoughts. When she turned to him, he gestured to the camp. “Traveling from place to place, visiting familiar sites, hunting in the trees?”

“It’s not like I’m housebound,” she laughed. “Harding seems to report in with new things that need my personal attention on an almost daily basis. And camping in Inquisition tents is not so different than sleeping by the aravels.”

“But clans are families, are they not? Do you not miss your parents, your siblings, your cousins, your friends?” he pressed, although she was uncertain as to why it mattered so much.

She frowned, staring out into the firelight. “Yes and no,” she admitted. “My mother died when I was young, and I had a falling out with my father years ago. I haven’t seen my brother in a long time, and the schism caused… issues… in my position. My last close ties to the clan were to Deshanna, so it was a bit of a relief when she asked me to go to the Conclave.”

She shrugged, toeing the ground with her boot. “To be honest, wandering around with everyone over the last few months has felt like a moving about in a proper clan, so… I suppose I miss Deshanna, and the anonymity and freedom that comes with being an insignificant part of the clan.”

She shifted, looking over the camp, biting her lip in thought. “I once told Cassandra that home was where I was, but I think it’s more accurate to say it’s where I am, alongside the people I’m with. I enjoy the Inquisition’s camping trips, and the company we keep.”

She gave his hand a small squeeze, smiling. “One day I’ll return, I’m sure, but it might not be forever—if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the world is full of amazing places to visit and explore. But I’m not particularly inclined on going anywhere else anytime soon.”

“Cassandra would probably have something to say about it if you did,” he replied lightly, a slight smile on his face. She laughed.

“I don’t think she’d outright yell at me,” Remli conceded, “but I would certainly not hear the end of her exasperated sighs as she chased me around the Dales.” They both laughed at that, picturing Cassandra running about, yelling about the Maker and Andraste having some higher purpose for everything, then making disgusted noises if anything particularly heathenistic occurred. Remli paused, then, a thought coming to her.

“I will return to my clan one day,” she said, tilting her head. “After everything is sorted out and Cassandra is adequately distracted elsewhere, of course. I’d like to see Deshanna again, to let her know I’m alright and to tell her about some of the things we’ve seen in our travels. You’re welcome to come with me if you’d like. I could show you that we really aren’t as ‘diminished’ as you think.”

He lowered his head. “It was unkind of me to speak in such a way,” he said, not meeting her eye. “My apologies, I spoke out of turn.”

“It was not unkind, it was uninformed,” she said, trying to soften her words with a smile. She dipped her head to catch his eye. “Come with me,” she repeated, squeezing his hand once again. “It’s really not such a terrible fate as you seem to think. I think you would like Deshanna, and I know our First would love talking to you about your experiences in the Fade. And it wouldn’t be terribly long—I don’t think the Inquisition forces could do without us for more than a few weeks, and I don’t think I could take many of Deshanna’s lectures about being a proper Da’len.”

She laughed, although Solas shook his head. “I am not sure that would be… ,” he stopped, seeing her expression falter. “Perhaps,” he finished with a small smile.

“The keeper’s face darkens at the words, anger and betrayal, hand raised, a flash of light, a ward to hold off the night—‘I will hear no more of your lies.’ The man is gone but He remains in dreaming, dealing, done. Sometimes it is best not to say anything when you know the truth will hurt,” said Cole, appearing between them. He turned his face to look at Remli, and his wide-brimmed hat effectively hit Solas in the face, separating them. “It’s better to remain silent than to tell a lie. But he doesn’t want to lie, not to you, so he says what he wants, not what he knows.”

“You know, most men just settle for asking their object of affection questions about themselves, saying what they think the lady wants to hear,” Varric interrupted, calling over his book as he scratched notes into his journal. “It might work out better for you in the long run if you try that tactic, Chuckles, instead of asking why the Dalish are so diminished. A little flattery might improve your chances.”

Beside Varric, Hawen gazed at Solas and the Inquisitor with an indulgent smile, looking for all the world like a proud father seeing his child well-matched. Solas shifted away from the Inquisitor and Cole ever so slightly, straightening his back.

“Am I not permitted curiosity in learning more of the Dalish customs, Child of Stone? It seems you have taken an interest in the clan culture as well,” Solas replied, voice cool. He sounded completely unfazed, although Remli could see the tips of his ears were blushed pink.

Varric wasn’t put off, either. “Yes, but my questions have to do with coming up with names for characters and descriptions of how things work around camp. Things Daisy never really wanted to tell me about, and things that Longshot says are boring. But your questions sound suspiciously like you’re trying to learn what to expect when you go home to meet her parents. Interested in becoming clan Lavellan’s mage in reserve?”

Remli laughed, taking pity on Solas and pulling Cole up with her as she got to her feet. “There’s no shame in wanting to learn more about another people’s culture, Varric,” she chided him, although she softened her words with a smile. “Didn’t you have to learn odd human customs when you first started travelling with Cassandra?”

“I’m a surface dwarf, which means we more or less live like humans. But Cassandra’s customs more or less involved grumbling about ingrates and walking at a very fast pace,” Varric replied, closing his book of notes. “And asking a lot of questions about things that really had nothing to do with what she claimed she was investigating at the time.”

“Oh? And just how close were you to the Champion?” Remli asked, grinning as Varric flinched.

“Fine, fine, I retract my questions. I’m sure Solas asks out of curiosity after waking up from all of his adventures in the Fade to find the real world not quite as brilliant as they are in his dreams.”

“Things aren’t brilliant in the Fade, but they do glow,” supplied Cole, picking up a bedroll and flapping it out as if to fluff it. “Brilliant means that something is too bright to look at, but most things in the Fade are soft. Except for the Inquisitor. She burns a radiant fire in the Fade. She is brilliant.”

“That’s… helpful Kid, thanks,” Varric replied. “I honestly don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that, but I guess I can work it into the book somehow.”

“Or you could not write a book about it,” said Remli, flushing. “I don’t know how comfortable I am with the thought of you describing me glowing like a torch. You’d have a far more realistic book if you talked about that time we were up to our asses in bog muck than waxing poetic about visions in the Fade.”

“Some of us were up to our chins in that muck, thank you,” lamented Varric. “I still worry about finding crap in my chest hair. Besides, people don’t want realism, they want escapist literature so they can forget about the state of the world for a while.”

“So you’re telling me that describing how the Champion’s consort punched his fist through a man’s heart makes the real world a little more bearable?” she asked.

“Ok, see, that’s the problem with you people. You get up to such weird shit that the things you do seem impossible. Yes,” he staved off Cole’s pending interruption. “Fenris really did pull out someone’s heart with his fist. Just like you really did walk out of the Fade, and you really did pull a mountain down on top of your head and survive, and you really do go riding around Thedas on an undead horse.”

“Fluffy has nothing to do with this!” she protested.

“Point is,” Varric continued as though she hadn’t interrupted, “You’ve gotta level out the weird realism with normal realism, or people won’t take you seriously. Hence my questions about living in the clan. See? A legitimate reason for inquiry, no hidden agenda at all.” He gave Solas another meaningful look, although the mage refused to take the bait. “I want to know the way things are.”

“Well, the invitation is an open one,” she said, trying to steer the conversation back towards their travels. “If any of you have an interest in joining me when I return to my clan, you are welcome to come. See for yourself, the life of a Dalish clan is not so wild or exciting as you might think. We don’t dance naked in the moonlight unless the wine is particularly strong and we are extremely young and foolish. We eat, we sleep, we go about our daily lives without much variation. If everyone comes it might be prudent of me to send prior warning, but…” she laughed. “Deshanna always did say I was full of surprises.”

A quiet cough drew her attention back into camp, where Hawen walked towards their little group. “Sylvirem’lin,” he said, pretending as though the whole clan had not heard them bickering. “I apologize for the intrusion, but we’re going to let the fires burn down for the night. We’ve prepared pallets for you and your companions if you’re ready to retire.”

She smiled, ducking her head in thanks and deference to the man who was putting them up—and putting up with them—for the night.

“Ma serannas, Hahren,” she said, flushing a bit in embarrassment. “We appreciate your hospitality, and thank you for your kindness. I apologize for our noise—a terrible habit I’ve picked up from the humans during my stay.”

He smiled at that, gesturing towards the clearing where the other bedrolls lay. “It is good to hear you so at ease among such an… odd company,” he hedged, although there was humor in his voice. “And it is good to see that you are well looked after.” There was a very deliberate look in Solas’ direction, but Remli tactfully sidestepped the implied question.

“I have been very fortunate in my recent adventures, both in companionship and in our challenges,” she agreed, not daring to look at her friends. “And while it is not an easy path by any means, I am grateful for the ways things are.”