#have you ever heard a more ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATING insult??? the answer is no. no one has

[florida3exclamationpoints]

✨️ITS FUNNY✨️ I'm 👁SEEING👁 Daniel Sousa but I'm 👂HEARING👂 Jack Thompson 💥❤️‍🩹🔥🔪🚷🤭

[luna-writes-stuff]

I would be honored if you could do an imagine for Fili crushing on someone who went on the journey with the Company. He thought she liked his brother, but after seeing him with Tauriel, Fili feels like he has a chance and offers everything to make her as happy as he thought she would be with Kili. Lovely fluff and some misunderstandings with everyone living because IF I CAN'T SEE CANON THEN IT DOESN'T EXIST

Mixed signals, Fili Durin (platonic Kili x reader)

what do you mean they don’t usually live???? Idk I always skip the last half hour of botfa. If I don’t see it, it doesn’t exist.

Ahahah I got taken away a bit so it’s a long request. Sorry….

Headcanons, female s/o

Tw: misunderstood feelings, mention of injury and blood, tiny sprinkle of angst, fluff, Kili being a lil shit, Fili being jealous, few mentions of Y/N I’m so sorry.

- This man is whipped for you. I posted a request similar to this one yesterday, and I feel like it says enough.

- The moment he sees you, he knows you’re his One. Yet, he can’t allow himself to show you. His brother wouldn’t shut up about it and besides that, after Erebor was to be reclaimed, he had to marry royalty in order to form an alliance.

- But Thorin wasn’t blind. He has seen the look in Dis’ eyes many times before. He had seen his sister find her One, so it came as nothing out of the ordinary when he witnessed his nephew do the same.

- And this is pre-dragonsickness. Back when Thorin was all “I hate everyone but I guess I have to keep up with these two idiots so I’ll tolerate them.”

- And he wanted to grant Fili the opportunity to be with his One. He had even told him to simply go for it.

- But Fili was a bit insecure. When you met him, you didn’t seem taken away in any way. It was almost as if it had only been him who was in love.

- And with that, you had grown remarkably close to his brother, Kili. You two joked around all the time. You sat together during the evenings, Kili would help you up on your horse/pony, he would take offer your watches and he even let you hold his bow and arrow. That is basically dwarven language for “I love you and I wish to court you” or “I love you and I’m so glad to have you in my family.”

- What Fili didn’t know is that Thorin told Kili about you being his One. But instead of teasing Fili about it, Kili had made it his duty to agitate his brother so much that he would have no choice but to confess to you before Kili would sneak you away.

- For your information: Kili had no intention of sneaking you away. He just wanted to make it look like it for Fili, and, lucky for him, you had just been going along with it subconsciously.

- But it did not agitate Fili. It made the poor lad confused and tired. You were showing so much affection and endearment to his brother that he felt like he could never compete. Even though Kili had never been attractive in dwarven standards, he knew his way around women. And seeing someone finally pay attention to him, made Fili happy for his brother.

- And Kili just kept up with the act. He was oblivious to what his brother was feeling. Thorin had quite specifically told Kili not to tell his brother, and for once, he didn’t. But when days turned into weeks, Kili made more advances. Not in any way uncomfortable for you, but they had been a step further.

- He would let you rest against him during night shifts, he would let his hand linger on your waist when he helped you get onto your horse/pony. This sneaky bastard even managed to toy with your hair.

- Fili grew absolutely devastated at these moments. He had distanced himself more and truly felt as if his One had been taken away and he would die alone.

- But then Mirkwood happened. It was obvious to Fili that his brother had taken a liking on Tauriel, the female elf that saved him earlier. You had been passed out of exhaustion in your cell, not paying attention to your surroundings anymore.

- And that was when Fili finally decided to speak.

- “What are you doing? I thought you liked Y/N and now you’re flirting with that elf? You can’t treat her like that!”

- And now Kili was confused.

- “I thought you liked Y/N?” He had questioned, not even knowing whether his uncle had been lying to him or not.

- “That doesn’t matter. What matters is, you can’t just run around-“ but Kili had already cut him off. “It does matter. Because Y/N isn’t my One. I’m not attracted to her!”

- And now Fili was dead silent. He had been contemplating on whether to act furious or taken aback. In reality, he had been a bit of both.

- “You don’t like Y/N?” Fili asked, nearly insulted.

- “I was only trying to agitate you. Uncle said she was your One but that you wouldn’t confess.” Kili admitted finally, knowing that keeping the act up any longer wouldn’t work.

- “So you tried to beat it out of me?” The only response the blonde got was a quiet hum.

- “You thought I would take away your chance of happiness?” Fili wondered aloud, his anger now showing more clearly. “Well, not if you put it like that-“ “How else am I supposed to put it?”

- With those words, the space grew quiet. One more question lingered on Fili’s mind, and he had to ask it.

- “Does she know you don’t like her?” A short pause was heard from Kili before he responded. “She does. When we grew closer she told me she wasn’t attracted to me and I told her she wasn’t my One.”

- A sigh of relief came Fili’s way, but his brother kept on talking. “She grew all confused by the concept of ‘Ones’. Had to give her a whole history lesson. She thinks it’s adorable. I’m sure she won’t reject you.” With those words, Fili’s ears pricked up.

- “How so?” “Because every time we are together, she won’t stop asking me about you.” Fili never thought someone could ever bring him more butterflies than when you smiled at him, but as Kili’s sentences reached him, his stomach felt all light again.

- “At first I thought it was because you were ignoring her, but I quickly figured out that wasn’t the case.” Kili shot a quick look his brother’s way, even though he had been in a cell on the other side of the hall. “She likes you, she really does. She’s not as good at hiding it as you are. If you ask her to court you, she won’t say no.”

- Fili had spent the entire night pondering over his brother’s words. Even as they escaped the dungeons and took the boat to Laketown, his anxiety bubbled up.

- But as soon as the orcs entered the city, reality sunk back in. They had been on the run while simultaneously claiming their homeland. There might be a chance neither of you would make it. And it terrified him.

- As you were busy holding off the orcs in Bard’s home, Fili had been right beside you covering your back. He knew asking you to court him would require more steps. Up until this moment you had only held a handful of conversations, but Fili was running out of patience.

- “When all this is over, I need you by my side.” He told you quickly, his voice heavy as he fenced off the attackers. You grew confused at your words, yet your actions did not falter one bit. And it only made Fili more attracted to you. How you maintained yourself on a battlefield, yet somehow managed to hold that perfect look. It could quite easily take his breath away.

- “But I am by your side.” You answered, not catching his meaning, thinking it had been too good to be true.

- “I mean by my side at Erebor. When we reclaim the mountain. Will you stay with me?” Upon your silence, Fili tried explaining his speech. “I know asking you to court me requires more steps but we might not have time for them anymore. I need you to stay with me. We can do all these steps afterwards, I promise.”

- You cast him a quick look before giving him a sincere nod. “I’ll stay with you.”

- And that is exactly what you did. Upon finally arriving at the mountain with the four dwarves, Fili finally got the time to braid your hair, even if Thorin told him to look for the Arkenstone. You had even managed to braid his hair too, even though you had no beads yet.

- Even as Thorin slowly grew insane, Fili had done what he promised; he remained by your side, defending you against his uncle and keeping you as safe as he could.

- During the battle of the five armies, you stayed with him and Kili. You traveled with the three of you, not once separating. Not even when Fili decided you should split up. Because of that, you managed to do quite a number on Azog before Thorin called out to him.

- Azog had gotten a good slash on your leg, nothing life threatening but enough to make you collapse on the spot. Fili had been so worried. He had promised to look out for you, but now you were bleeding out on the snow covered floor. Kili had already ran off for help, even though the possibility he would come back with one would be highly unlikely, as battle was still raging on.

- On top of Ravenhill everything had grown silent. Bodies of dead orcs were littered over the floor but all that mattered to Fili right now was you being safe. Eventually, Kili had ran back with Bilbo, Thorin and Gandalf by his side. They had successfully beaten Azog, finally putting an end to the bloodshed.

- As the mountain was being rebuilt, Oin had put you on bed rest to let your leg heal and Fili had been with you the entire time. Thorin hadn’t even tried to get him for royal duties. He knew he had been awful to you during his dragonsickness, and this was his way of apologizing to you. And you had been fine with it.

- When you had finally recovered, Kili took you to the forges to make beads for Fili. You wanted it to be a surprise for him, but you needed supervision. At first, Dis, Fili and Kili’s mother, had offered to help, but it had become her duty to distract the crown prince.

- A few burns and scratched had started to form on both your and Kili’s hands but it had been worth it. The beads were incredible.

- Fili was so happy when you gave them to him. He was so surprised by the amazing details and the thought and time your poured into them.

- He wears them the entire time. Now exceptions. Not even for bed or bath. None. They must always be in his hair.

- I WANNA WRITE MORE BUT IT’S ALREADY SO LONG BUT JUST ASSUME HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH AND WILL TREASURE YOU FOREVER AND LOVE YOU FOR EVERY LITTLE THING YOU DO

[honeybunnybeez]

Did you even...? (ANGST)

♡ Prisoner!c!Dream x GN!Reader, (Mention of past poly!dream team x reader)

♡ Summary: You pay an old friend a visit. You just need to get something off your chest.

This place seemed to be even creepier on the inside than on the outside and stepping foot into the prison gave you immediate chills. You look over to Sam, who strides through the hall with no issue at all. Well, that does make sense, he did build the place after all. He knew the prison like the back of his hand.

He gives you a quick glance before breaking the silence and asking,

"You sure you wanna do this?"

"If I don't do it now, I'll never do it. Might as well take advantage of the situation while it's safe, right?"

He doesn't say anything in response, and while it does leave a slightly awkward tension in the air, you think it's for the best.

After going through the countless safety measures, you finally make it to the bridge.

"Stand back, let the lava wall fall first."

You nod, feeling your chest starting to tighten up from how nervous you're feeling. As the wall falls, you can see a cell in the distance, and in that cell, a very familiar figure.

You start to feel hesitant when you see him and soon you start to rethink your decision as well.

"I-"

"Last chance, (Y/n). Do you want to do this?" Sam asks, his voice now firmer than before. "I won't be able to follow you, but just know that he won't be able to harm you in there."

You take a deep breath and remind yourself once again, now or never. Do it while he can't properly hurt you, while he can't manipulate you, while you still want to give him a piece of your mind. If you don't let it out now you'll regret never taking this chance.

"Y-yeah, I want this. I have to do this."

Sam doesn't say anything else and turns his attention to the many switches on the wall. "Stand on the bridge and hold onto the railings tight. The moment the bridge connects to the cell hop off quick."

You nod and step onto the bridge.

Upon seeing that it truly is you, Dream is quick to walk towards you but the netherite wall stops him from getting too close too soon. You were here, actually here, visiting him. He hasn't see you in ages, not since he left you three and you still look so-

"Dream?"

...you still look so lovely.

Despite his blank look, he seems dead tired and for the first time in a long while, you actually feel sympathetic towards him, but that doesn't mean you were going to go easy on him. No, it's going to take a while before you find yourself comforting him. Though, despite what you tell yourself you still have to hold back from holding him like you used to do.

As the lava falls back down, along with the netherite wall, you let yourself step over that line, approaching closer towards him and he does the same too.

"(Y/n)."

You let out a sigh, a hand covering your face as you try to get your emotions in check. So many things to say but the dull ache you feel is a reminder that you have so little time, but you do know what to start off with. With a deep breath you finally say what you've been dying to tell him,

"You absolute fucking asshole."

You can't help the venom that seep into your voice as you utter those words and Dream can feel his heart break a little as you use that tone with him. This wasn't your usual teasing insults anymore, you were furious and your voice more than shows it.

"All of this, and for what, Dream?" You ask him.

'For power, for absolute control,' a part of him thinks to himself, but he can't find the courage to say it to you. He can't make things worse than it already is.

"I'm sure Sapnap told you, he never could keep his feelings to himself," the way he so casually says it makes you want to slap his mask right off. If only he was there to hear Sapnap claim that Dream never cared about them, how devastating it was to hear those words.

"You're a selfish prick,"

He is, isn't he?

"Such a greedy motherfucker,"

He's come to terms with that a long time ago.

"...An absolute heartbreaking bitch."

...He didn't expect to fall this hard, (Y/n), he didn't know he'd fall in love too.

Tears start to fall as everything grows to be too much from all the sorror and frustration you're letting out with each word you say. You try your best to wipe them away but it's no use. It just hurts. You wish George and Sapnap were here to comfort you, to hug you, but they weren't and you aren't going to simply hug the monster in front of you no matter how much you want to. As much as it hurts you can't find it in you to stop talking just yet though.

"Was what we all had just a joke to you?" You manage to sob out.

He stiffens a bit as his thoughts race. Inside he's begging you to stop, to please don't ask him that question.

"Was it fun? Y'know- stringing me, Sapnap and George along, saying such loving words. Sharing all those gentle kisses and late night giggles. Were those moments just fake to you?"

(Y/n) please.

"Dream,"

What can he say, what do you want him to say? Please, (Y/n) he doesn't know what to say-

"Did you even fucking love us?"

'Yes,' something inside of him screams, the part inside of him that he tried desperately to ignore ever since he left you three. He wants to shout out his answer, wants to hold you close and never let go, but he can't, because he knows damn well he doesn't deserve it and it kills him everytime he thinks about it. He doesn't deserve you and them.

His silence and blank stare breaks your heart, but at the same time, it also... relieves you, to know that you don't have to cling to any false hope. To know that you can just let go knowing nothing between you four were ever real to him.

You let out a hiccup and a shuddering sigh. Unclenching the fists you never knew you were clenching to begin with. You have so much to say, but you think you've finally reached your limit, so you focus on calming yourself, starting to feel foolish for losing it in front of him.

Silence between you two filled the room, with you looking down at the floor refusing to even glance at him and Dream not moving from where he stands, his thoughts fighting with one another as he thinks about what he should do or say.

Before Dream can open his mouth he sees you starting to sway a little bit. You feel yourself starting to grow weaker as your sobbing slowly stops and the dull ache from before is becoming unbearable, and that's when you realize the potion was still in effect. Your time was running out, you have to leave soon.

You accept whats coming, you said your piece, and even though you still feel like shit, a slight weight has been lifted off your chest . You got to meet him, and finally got to say what you wanted, face to face. You feel satisfied, at least for now.

"(Y/n)," his voice starts to sound like a distant echo as your head starts to throb.

"Don't... please don't say anything...," you feel the room start to spin and you're slowly losing your balance.

"(Y/n), please listen-"

"...I can't Dream. I can't-," and with that, you feel your heart stop and see the world around you turn black for just a moment before you wake up on the bed Sam had told you to set your spawn at. Your head is in a daze as you look around to check your surroundings. At that moment, it all felt so surreal, but you knew better than to think it was fake.

"...Fuck," you literally can't find anything else to say, feeling speechless and a little emotional.

"Feel better?" Sam asks as he walks over to check you over.

"Yeah, I think so..." a ping can be heard as your communicator goes off and it's from Sapnap.

You told him you'd be visiting the prison a few hours before but you weren't expecting him to come and pick you up, he even brought Quackity and Karl with him too. It's a pleasant surprise after that whole situation at least.

"Best not to keep them waiting, (Y/n)."

You let out a final hiccup before laughing softly, wiping away the remaining tears from your face.

"Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Sam."

(Bonus!)

Before your souless body can hit the floor, Dream is quick to catch it and hold it as it starts to slowly fade. He starts to feel some of the tears he's been holding back fall and he doesn't bother to stop them. Instead, he just hugs your body closer to him. It doesn't feel the same with how cold and light it feels, but it's better than nothing.

As your body slowly starts to dissapear, he can't help but whisper out a string of apologies to it, pretending like you three can hear his voice.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

But no matter how hard he pleads, no voices answer back, only the soft flowing of lava and his screaming throughts return to be his only company.

Notes: Hello! Thank you so much for reading this if you did! I haven't written fanfic in ages so I may be hella hecking rusty. I'm also really sorry if this is beyond ooc and dramatic! I'll try to get better as time goes on!

(Requests are open and anon is on!)

[mochegato]

I Can’t Fight This Feeling

Chapter 3

Chapter 1     Chapter 2

He just came here for a fucking break.  Somewhere none of the people he normally works with would be caught dead.  Which is the only reason he was in an art museum right now.  Because Black Mask aside, none of Gotham’s rogues or henchmen had the slightest interest in art and Black Mask would never deign to be in the presence of Gotham’s unwashed masses.

So here, this place, it was a safe haven.  A relaxing place.  A place where he could let his mind wander and his guard down, as much as you could anywhere in Gotham.  It had absolutely nothing to do with the painting of a dark haired, blue eyed woman glancing hopefully into the distance that he had been staring at for the last hour, the same painting he ended up in front of every time he visited.

But his peaceful reprieve was being intruded upon.  He couldn’t see the person, but he could feel their eyes boring into him.  They’ve been on him for at least the last ten minutes.  That meant it was more than just someone who wanted to hit on him. They would have made their move already. He would give them five more minutes to move on before he acted, but he could feel his rage rising with each passing second.  

After another five minutes, he rounded on them, ready to threaten them until they regretted even breathing in the same building as him.  “What are you fucking…” he hissed out, but his anger dissipated when he was met with the same blue eyes that had consumed his mind for the last hour. Or rather, if he were being honest, for the last three years.  “…looking… at.”

“Oh, sorry,” her eyes widened in surprise before she looked away awkwardly. “That must have seemed so creepy. It’s just… you look so familiar?  I could swear I know you from somewhere.” Her eyes returned to his, searching them for familiarity.

He stared at her wide eyed.  She couldn’t be here.  Why would she be here… in Gotham.  She didn’t belong in Gotham.  She was supposed to stay in Paris where it was safe, now that Hawkmoth was gone and the League couldn’t track her, where she could stay innocent.  “Marinette,” he breathed out.  

She gave him a brilliant smile and let out a relieved breath.  “Oh good.  You do know me.”  She laughed nervously.  “I’ve never remembered anyone from that time before.  And it has to be from that time, right?  Otherwise I’d remember how I know you.”

“What are you doing here?”  He continued to stare at her still in a haze.  She had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the last few years, her eyes brighter.  God, they had always been mesmerizing, but now they were positively hypnotic.  Maybe that had more to do with getting away from the Hawkmoth situation, being free again, not bogged down by the responsibility of protecting millions of people as a child, being in a whole new time in her life.  He was so lost in thought, it took a second for her words to register.  “What do you mean ‘that time’?”

“I was looking for a little design inspiration.”  Her voice was unsteady, slightly shaking.  She tapped her fingers together nervously.  “I have, um… a commission I need to figure out and homework and I have no idea what to do for the homework.  The direction was so vague or maybe it wasn’t and it’s just me.  It’s just not something that registers with me, you know.”  Her voice became stronger as she babbled.  “Like, I can design a thousand dresses based on a flower, or the rain, or a building, but design based on a heart?  I can’t do it.  Ask for something based on a star?  I got it. A circle?  Hundreds of designs.  A square?  Got that too. Even a triangle would be fun.  But a heart?  So cliché.”

“I meant,” he interrupted harsher than he intended to.  He let his voice soften.  “What are you doing in Gotham?”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment.  “I go to school here.  My best friend and I moved here last year for school.  I go for design.  He wants to be a teacher.”

“In Gotham?” he asked incredulously.  “Of all the places you could have gone, why Gotham?”

She tilted her head to the side in consideration, weighing her words carefully. It was the first time since they started talking that her body seemed to relax.  He studied her body language a bit more.  No, not relax, slump.  Her shoulders slumped as she thought of the reason that brought her here.  “Because Gotham doesn’t judge,” she answered quietly. “Because you can just disappear in Gotham.  No matter your past, as long as you aren’t actively trying to hurt them, nobody cares. There’s no hostile looks, no glares, no thinly veiled insults or completely unveiled insults.  You can just be.”

Jason’s heart clenched and his anger started to build.  He took a step closer to her.  “Why was that important to you?  Who was looking at you like that?”  He kept his voice even and calm, but he was sure his eyes were starting to show hues of green edging in.

She shook her head and looked down.  “Not me.  My best friend.  He tried moving to London and New York, but it just… seemed to follow him everywhere he went.  I mean he still had all his friends but… they started getting into trouble too because they were getting into fights defending him and… yeah.  So we applied to transfer here and both got accepted to our different schools.”

He nodded in understanding.  That seemed like something she would do; uproot her entire life for a friend.  “Gotham is good like that.  They let you rebuild yourself.  We’ve seen too much pain to judge too much.”  He looked away for a few seconds before he realized something.  “You never answered the second question.  What did you mean ‘that time’?”

“Oh… um…” she looked away awkwardly again and shuffled her feet a few times. “I have amnesia?  I lost a few years of my life a few years ago.”

“Amnesia?”

“Yeah, it was super weird.  I wasn’t even in an accident.  No physical injuries.  Just memory loss.”  She was rubbing the back of her neck and looking up at him sideways as she spoke.

He stared at her for a few more seconds.  That made no sense.  Why would she lose her memories like that?  The League could have done something, he supposed.  But if the League had been involved, she’d be dead. So it must be something else, something related to the miraculous was most likely.  A few years ago would put it right around when Hawkmoth was caught and Ladybug and the other miraculous heroes disappeared.

His eyes flicked to her ears.  She wasn’t wearing earrings.  She wasn’t wearing her miraculous.  He reached up toward her ears where they should be, but realized a few centimeters from her what he was doing and pulled back his hand like he’d been stung.  She lost being a hero.  Could the miraculous really do that?  Remove any parts of a memory that related to the miraculous?

“Um, speaking of losing things.  I don’t remember your name,” she prodded shyly.

“Jason.  Jason Todd,” he answered, still somewhat in a daze, still focused on her ears.  

She smiled at the answer, but her lips quickly turned down into a slight frown. The shift caused his hear to stutter. Why was she frowning?  Did his name bring back who he was?  No, that couldn’t be it.  She never knew his name.  So why the frown?  Did she… had she heard of him?  Was she disappointed in him?  Was she scared of him?  Was she aghast at the approach he took to cleaning up Gotham?

The thought pressed against his chest like a vice.  Every decision he’d made since he left her in that park had been touched by her.  Would she approve?  Would she understand?  It didn’t change how he acted… usually.  He still did what he needed to do, what needed to be done.  But the thought was still there.  Would she think he was the evil villain he tried so hard to be?  He knew she would be disappointed, but seeing it reflected on her face was something else.  He steeled himself and rolled his shoulders in false nonchalance. He gave her a forcefully charming smile. “What’s the matter, don’t like the name?”

She quirked her head to the side as she watched him.  Jason braced himself for whatever her next words were going to be. They had to be how disappointed she was in him, right?  Disappointed in what he became.  “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just disappointed.”  

Jason drew in a breath.  There it was. The reaction he was expecting. Even though he knew it was coming it still hurt more than he thought it would.  Why was he letting this person he didn’t even know affect him, damn it! She didn’t even know him.  She had no right!  He tried to meet her eyes so he could deliver a devastating glare, but she was staring ahead blankly.  His eyes softened involuntarily.  That’s why it hurt.  Because she was the best person he’d met, the most forgiving, and if even she thought he was disappointing, he must really be.

“I don’t remember your name,” she continued, oblivious to his reaction.  She looked back up at him with an adorable pout on her soft, pink lips.  “I was so excited that seeing you sparked something.  I guess I was hoping your name might help recover more memories. But my head, you know?”  She tapped her head with her knuckles gently.

Jason gaped at her.  She was disappointed in herself?  Not him? “No!” he cried louder than he meant to, he just couldn’t let her think this was her fault when it had to be some kind of magic.  “You never… you didn’t know my name.  And, I’ve known lots of people with amnesia.  Living in Gotham, people get their heads rattled or hit frequently. Memories are hard.  They don’t come back the way you would think they do. Sometimes they don’t ever come back at all.”

She scrunched her face in confusion.  Her lips turned down sadly.  “But… you knew my name.  And I remember you.”

Jason opened his mouth to try some kind of explanation.  He snapped his mouth shut.  What could he say?  How was he supposed to explain how he knew her?  This is where his years of training in bullshit and condescension would come in handy.  Except he didn’t want to be condescending with her, so just bullshit then.  He sighed heavily.  But he didn’t want to lie to her either, not to her.  She was the one good thing he’d done since the Pits. Helping her was his one saving grace.  “We… we weren’t friends.  We weren’t close.  I honestly have no idea why you would remember me.  I wasn’t a good person.  You knew that.”

She stared at him in surprise.  Her brows furrowed in thought, but she stayed quiet as if waiting for him to elaborate. He opened his mouth again, but snapped it shut again quickly when the sound of gunfire echoed through the museum. Jason’s head immediately snapped to the sound and he moved before he realized it to put himself between Marinette and the doorway.

Marinette sighed at the shots.  Jason whipped around to look at her.  A sigh is definitely not the response he was expecting.  It was not the normal response.  That was much closer to an emotionally damaged response, a tired of life response, a response he had tried to save her from having.  Granted his reaction wasn’t normal either, but he knew why he reacted the way he did.

She shrugged.  “The Walker Emerald,” she explained.  “It’s in the Ancient Art exhibit.”  When he still looked confused, she continued.  “It’s an Incan artifact.  They used emeralds in some of their works.  The Walker Emerald is the largest emerald they’ve found in excavations.  It’s held in place by a solid gold setting.  It’s huge.  They named it for the archaeologist that discovered it.  What bullshit is that?” she grumbled, seeming more upset by that than the gunfire.  “I stayed away from here for weeks after they opened the exhibit because I figured this would happen.  But I thought it would have happened earlier. Guess they were waiting for people to put their guard down and it worked.  I did.”

Jason moved to the doorway and peeked around the corner.  “But why now?  Why during the day when there would be people here?”

“Because security at night is a lot worse for it,” Marinette said as she peeked out next to him.  He grabbed her and pulled her back into the room behind him.  “Just my luck they would do it when I finally visited again.”  She tried to move to the doorway again but Jason pulled her back again with a scowl, moving them further from the door.  She really had no self-preservation instincts.  She rolled her eyes, but didn’t fight him, instead slumping into his side to wait for everything to blow over.  “If you remember me, then you probably already know how bad my luck is.”

He barked out a laugh at the irony.  He stopped immediately when they heard more gunfire and someone behind them call out. Marinette peeked past him again.  She cursed quietly and took off running.  Jason cursed loudly and ran to the doorway just in time to see Marinette slide into the feet of one of the goons, knocking him off his feet and into the goon next to him, knocking him down as well. Before the second guy landed, she’d jumped back up and swept a little boy who had been in their path off his feet. Fuck!  She was still acting like a hero, but without the suit or magic to help her.  

He groaned to himself.  Bad luck his ass.  That was either extreme skill or luck… or both.  But considering she hadn’t thought to follow it up by making sure they couldn’t follow her, if it was skill, it was subconscious remnants of her time as a hero, not something she could pull on at will.  And she probably hadn’t intentionally trained to be able to defend herself, because she didn’t remember being a hero, so why would she.  Which meant she had no self-preservation skills.  She was acting purely on her emotions.  She was going to get herself killed with her good heart. Where was her friend who came here with her?  Why weren’t they protecting her?  Somebody had to, since she clearly wasn’t going to do it herself.

He moved before he thought too hard about it.  The goons were already standing up, guns out and cocked, and had their eyes trained on the statue’s pedestal she was hiding behind.  He punched one in the temple, knocking him out immediately, and grabbed the gun from his hand as he fell.  He pointed the gun at the goon and was about to pull the trigger when he heard the gasp behind him.  He heard Marinette quickly fussing over the kid and telling him not to look. He groaned silently and tightened his grip on the gun.  He couldn’t kill him in front of the kid… or Marinette.  

He motioned to the gun in the goon’s hand and held his hand out.  “You know who I am, yeah?”  The goon nodded slowly.  “Give me your gun and get the fuck out of here and I won’t come after you.”  The goon dropped his gun and backed away, never turning his back on Jason until he was out of the room and rapid footfalls could be heard.

Jason took a breath and slowly let it out to calm himself before moving to Marinette’s truly terrible hiding spot.  He silently reached out for her hand to help her stand and escorted her and the kid back into the room they had been in.  The kid immediately perked up and reached out for a woman in the corner with two other kids.  She thanked Marinette and him with tears running down her face, clutching to the boy like a lifeline before bringing him back to the other two kids and holding them all the same way.

Jason yanked Marinette into his chest and wrapped his arms around her.  He watched the door for any indication they were going to send more goons after them.  After a few seconds he pulled away just enough to look at her.  “Stop doing that!” he whisper yelled.  He pulled them into the corner where they were at least partially hidden by marble statues.  “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“You ran after me,” she pointed out with a roll of her eyes.  “Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I… you…” he scowled at her.  He opened his mouth to lecture her more articulately, but snapped it shut again. “Let’s get you somewhere safer,” he gritted out.

She shook her head.  “I’m not leaving them and I already feel safe.  I feel safe with you.  I trust you.”  Jason scoffed at her.  How was she still alive?  Why was her friend not watching her at all times if she was this trusting and bad at judging people?  “I remember you.  You’re the only thing I’ve remembered.  That must mean you were important to me.  You wouldn’t have been important unless you did something I thought was significant. So that means I thought I could trust you.  And I trust myself that I can trust you.”  She smiled confidently at him.

Jason groaned and motioned to himself.  “Do I look like someone you can trust?” he exclaimed as loudly as he felt he could safely.  He may not be in his Red Hood suit right then, but he was definitely dressed in mob boss chic, designed to emanate a powerful asshole vibe and cultivate fear and respect.  

She kept her eyes focused entirely on his, not bothering to take in his carefully crafted vibe. Just staring at his eyes, staring into his soul, and seeking out that part of him that he thought had died years ago. That part the League had trained out of him.  The part the Joker had beaten out of him.  “Yes,” she said immediately and confidently.

He stared at her blankly.  Why would she trust him?  He was untrustworthy.  He was a killer.  He was brutal.  He had cultivated that reputation.  It was well deserved.  Hell, he’d attacked her.  And yet here she was, looking up at him with those big, bright, trusting, blue eyes.  “Okay.” He swallowed hard.  Those blue eyes were more deadly than half the rogues in Gotham.  Those blue eyes could get him to do things nobody else had ever been able to.  

It only took half an hour for the police to clear the museum and let them back out on the street, likely because some of them had been in on the heist in the first place.  It felt strange and unsettling to wait for the police instead of acting.  His skin itched to act in a way other than decking the officer that had been staring at him with distain since he came to tell them they could leave.

He escorted Marinette and the small family to the sidewalk outside and stuck next to them to make sure the police didn’t harass them.  He was determinedly not looking at Marinette, but he could feel her staring at him again.  When he finally looked over at her, he lost his breath for a second.  She was staring at him with such adoration and respect, his lungs couldn’t function correctly.  Jason frowned.  “You've got to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I'm a hero,” he groused.  “I don’t deserve it.  I haven’t earned it.  I’m not a hero.”

Marinette blinked at him a few times and cocked her head to the side curiously.  She smiled sweetly at him.  It seemed vastly out of place considering the situation they were in and yet perfectly in place on her lips.  “You’re that kid’s hero.  And that mom’s… and mine.”

Jason stared back at her breathlessly.  “Look… you don’t remember me.  If you did…  I’m… It’s dangerous to be around me.  I’m dangerous to be around.  You shouldn't be seen with me. It's dangerous for you to even talk to me.”  She smiled softly at him.  “And why are you smiling?  I just told you to go away.”

Her smile got brighter his indignation.  “Because if you were as evil as you seem so intent on convincing me you are, you wouldn't care.  But you do, so you're not.  So I was right.”

“Pixie, you have no idea how hard I worked on my reputation, what I’ve done to deserve it.”

Marinette nodded in faux seriousness.  “Right.  Terrible person that almost died protecting a kid he never met and would do it again in a heartbeat and stayed with us to make sure we were safe.”

“Who intimidated the henchmen out of harming us, because they knew what I could do, because they knew I’m not a good guy.”

Marinette laughed.  She had the audacity to laugh at him.  He was one of the leading crime bosses in the city.  “Oh yeah, okay, Wreck it Ralph.  Whatever you say.  I bet you jaywalk and everything.”

“I do!” he exclaimed throwing his arms out in exasperation.  “I’m going to do it again when I leave here.”  She laughed harder at him.  He stopped and thought about what he just said.  “No.  I mean…”

“Truly terrifying,” she agreed, cutting off his objections, still mocking his seriousness.

Jason hung his head in defeat.  His head snapped up when he heard the batmobile arrive. “And you are safe now.  But, I have to go.”  His eyes stayed on the batmobile, analyzing the threat to him.

“Now?”

He looked back at her with a wry smile.  “Batman and I don’t get along so well.  That should tell you something.”

“It tells me even heroes make mistakes,” she said defiantly.

Jason let out a long suffering sigh, but nodded. “Stay safe, Marinette.”

“Will I see you again?”  Her eyes were brimming with hope, but her voice was fragile.  She tucked a piece of her hair that had come undone while they were escaping behind her ear. Jason’s eyes traced her hand as it moved.  

He hated to kill that in her, but he couldn’t allow her to be in his life.  He couldn’t bring her down like that.  He couldn’t see her again and he couldn’t lie to her.  He opened his mouth to answer her, but got a reprieve. “Marinette!”  She hadn’t bothered to look at the source of the call, keeping her eyes on Jason.  But, the eye contact was broken when she was tackled by a blonde man.  “I came as soon as I saw!  Are you okay?”

Jason disappeared into the crowd before she recovered from the onslaught.  No matter what she believed, he wasn’t good and he wouldn’t be good for her.  He vowed to himself that he wouldn’t look for her. He wouldn’t follow her.  He wouldn’t give any rogues or henchmen in Gotham any indication that she was special to him.  He would protect her in any way that didn’t make her a target.  He gave one last look over his shoulder just catching a last glimpse of her searching the crowd.  He turned away and continued forward.

Chapter 4

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @jayjayspixiepop @aespades @how-to-function-properly @pawsitivelymiraculous @maribatserver

[dancingintheraindreamingonday]

Adoration - Part 3

Summary: You are loosing your control and things are going bad...

Warnings: non, just fluff and feels

Pairing: Bucky x angel!reader

Author’s note: Thank you to everyone who’s reading my story. Currently going through a tough time, so your kind words are making me indescribable happy. English is not my first language but I hope you will enjoy it anyways. :D

Part 1 and Part 2 

Bucky didn’t sleep well this night. He lay down in his room and soon fell asleep but his nightmares were already waiting for him. He watched the Starks begging for their lives. A young and innocent man trying to get into his hotel room- scared for his life. Suddenly the surrounding changed and Bucky found himself standing in a meadow. The grasses were tickling his hands and he felt the sun shining on his back. „Bet you can’t catch me.“, sang a soft voice and Bucky looked for the source of the voice. He narrowed his eyes to a slit as he tried to focus on a person. Bucky saw a woman waving at him. Her long hair was blowing in the wind but he couldn’t see her face. Bucky knew this place. He has been here before. He started running towards the woman but she ran away, he heard her laughing. He almost reached her but suddenly she faded away. The sky darkened and an uneasy feeling settled in Bucky. „I can’t see you, I can’t feel you. Buck, where are you?“ The soft voice sounded desperate, almost like crying. „I’m here. I’m here.“, he screamed. The wind got stronger and he had problems standing. „I’m here.“, he whispered. 

Bucky woke up soaked with sweat. The alarm let him know that he only slept for half an hours even though it felt like an eternity. His hands were hiding his face, trying to catch his breath. As his feet hit the ground he was greeted with coldness ensuring him that he was back to reality. He trotted to the red couch in the common room, hoping that you were right and that he can sleep on it without having nightmares. 

You were laying on your bed, sleeping restlessly. You were back in heaven, surrounded by dozen of angels all observing you with interest. A man was chained in the middle. You squinted your eyes to try to identify his face but you couldn’t. „I can’t. I can’t do it. I love him.“, you said, dropping your sword. A loud voice was mocking you. „Love? We are angels. Archangels. We don’t love. We adore Him and only him. You know the consequences, (y/f/n).“. You nodded. A murmur went through the crowd. „You won’t be welcome here anymore. You will be a fallen. You will forget most of this and you will forget him.“, The voice is hard and unsympathetic. „I accept the consequences. Just… spare his life.“

You woke up, breathing hard. You didn’t dream, you remembered. Your head was aching tremendously and your throat was dry like the dessert. You decided to spend the night on the couch but you realized that it’s already preoccupied by a handsome man. 

„I thought, you don’t dream?“, said Bucky, opening his eyes. „I don’t. I just remembered something from the past.“ He threw back the covers and patting on the couch to his left, indicating that you can sleep there too. „I don’t want to invade your personal space.“, you said. „I will just go back to my room.“

„Don’t be silly. C’mere. The couch is big enough for both of us.“ You grinned and lay down. „For an angel, you have really cold feet.“, 

„Sorry.“ You snuggled into Bucky, definitely invading his personal space but calming down as soon as you smelled him. Bucky was your drug and you were addicted to him. „Do you want talk about what you dre… I meant,  remembered?“, he asked, caressing your hair. „I remembered my trial. It was horrible.“ Your hand clutched on Bucky’s shirt. „What about you?“

Bucky looked outside the window „I can’t remember my dream.“ He lied.

The next morning, Bucky woke up from a dreamless sleep, only to find your hand clenched to his shirt. Sweat had formed on your forehead and your face was twisted in pain. „(Y/f/n).“, Bucky tried to wake you up. „(Y/f/n), wake up. Wake up!“, His voice got louder and more desperate. Steve stormed into the room. Bucky looked helpless as he shook you. „She isn’t waking up.“ He screamed

You began glowing, finally opening your eyes..

You fell on your knees, your long (y/h/c) hair were hiding your face. A small silver diadem was on your head. You didn’t wear your pajamas anymore, instead a long white, silvery dress

A long and heavy sword laid next to you. But the most intimidating thing were your wings. Bucky was shocked and perplexed. They were gigantic, reaching the ceiling and went from one side of the room to the other. The wings were white with small golden sprinkles but the tips were ebony. He had never seen something so beautiful. You pressed your hands on your face. „Something’s wrong. I can’t control it.“ You sobbed 

Bucky walked slowly towards you and kneeled to look directly in your face. 

He touched your cheeks softly in an attempt to calm you.

You couldn’t see Bucky anymore. Instead you were sitting on gras. Another person was there, but you couldn’t see his face, even thought he was so close. „It’s my last day here. Tomorrow I’m going to war.“ The voice sounded proud, but also extremely devastated. „I wish we had more time.“ You said. „We will. When I come back, I’ll never ever leave you again.“ He said, taking something out of his pocket. „If I could, I would marry you right away… You know that, don’t you? But I want to give you the wedding you deserve. I want to be the man you deserve. So, (y/f/n), I’m asking you to wait for me and I’ll promise to give you the life you deserve.“, The man said, opening his palm. A small thin ring was lying in it. It had a tiny stone in the middle. „It’s beautiful.“, You blushed. „I would wait an eternity to be with you.“ You kissed him softly. 

The picture changed again. „Throw that pathetic ring away. You’re delusional and acting childish. Forget it. Forget him.“ You weren’t on earth anymore. You played with the ring every time you felt lonely which made your brothers and sisters aware of it. „I will.“ You answered the commanding voice. You took off the ring, but instead of throwing it away you morphed the ring into a small necklace. You put on the necklace and hid it beneath your dress's collar. 

You blinked, finally gaining your control. Your hand searched for the small necklace on your neck. Relief went through your body as you found it. Slowly your sword and your wings disappeared. You leaned against Bucky’s broad chest as you looked like the girl minutes ago. „I’m loosing my mind, Buck.“, you mumbled and then being greeted by darkness as you passed out. 

Bucky carried you to the couch and lay you softly down. „What happened?“, Nat and Steve looked expectantly in Bucky's direction but he just shook his head. „I… I have absolutely no idea.“

„Maybe I can help?“ Said a fancy voice. A woman stood in the entrance. She was tall with brown-chestnut hair that were put in a neat bun. 

„My name is Rahel. I’m here for protection. I’m like her.“, She explained, nodding her head in your directions

„Do you know her?“ Bucky didn't trust her and he wouldn’t allow her to come any closer to you.

„Well not personally but she’s an icon. Her story is legend. 

(Y/f/n) was one of the four most powerful archangels. She fought in every war, sometimes leading the soldiers. She was extremely powerful and kind. After the rebellion she started to visit earth more often to learn more about humans and humanity. And then on one mission she walked into this man. Well he was more of a boy back then.“ Rahel laughed like she was there when it happened. „It was love at first sight. She stayed on earth for months. But both were soldiers- she was needed in heaven and he was going to war as well. However, she always kept an eye on him. And when he was in a life-threatening situation she came to save him. She left her position to safe him. When other men came she thought he’d be safe but they were evil. They captured him and she was absolutely miserable. She tried to ease his pain with her powers but one day she decided to end this torture. So as he was fighting against ... well ... the  good guys she made sure that those would recognize him and help him. And they did. The archangels were furious. She wasn’t just ignoring her war but she was also changing destiny. They burned out her memories of him and gave her two options. Kill him and stay in heaven or spare his life and fall.“ 

„So you know who he is?“ Steve was suspicious of this woman, not entirely trusting her either.

„Of course. Every angel does.“

„Tell us.“ Bucky commanded but she smiled smugly

"No. I can’t and I won’t. Forgetting him his her punishment. I can’t ignore the instruction.“

Rahel was slowly walking towards you. „I can feel her inner disunity. She is trying to remember but she won’t find more memories of him in her mind. They aren’t there anymore.“ She touched you on your forehead that made you wince. Bucky was rushing towards you but Rahel was stopping him with her hand.

„No, you stay away from her. It was you that made her lost her control.“ 

„What? Me? I didn’t do anything.“ He said in defensive and insulted.

„Your soul is calm but your mind is pure chaos. You will trigger her. She’s in a very sensible state right now.“

Bucky felt horrible. He was the one that made her relive her worst moments. 

You slept for more than a week in your room till you woke up. Your headache was killing you and your whole body hurt. 

„Are you going somewhere?“ You were shocked to see Bucky with a packed backpack sitting on the couch waiting for something.

„You’re up.“ His relief was indescribable but you were crossing your arms.

„I’m leaving for Wakanda. They offered me to get better. And that’s a chance I’m definitely going to take.“

„Without saying goodbye?“ You were hurt that he wanted to leave while you were passed out. You had the feeling that he was stealing himself away. 

„I…I didn't want to hurt you again.“ He whispered.

„You never hurt me before, Bucky.“ You wanted to touch him but he took a step backwards.

„No. You can’t touch me. Rahel said, that I was the reason for you to be in pain and I'm sorry for that.“

„Rahel said that? Interesting…“, you said this more to yourself. „Buck, I can assure you that you were not the reason. If anything you were the reason to calm me.“ You tried to assure him but he didn’t look convinced.

„I want to give you something.“ You unlocked your necklace and put it on Bucky.

„I’ve heard that humans believe in lucky charms. So maybe this could be yours? It may or may not have a bit angel power in it.“ You smiled.

„It’s beautiful.“ he said as he touched the small pendant.

„I will become a good man.“ He promised; omitting the words For you 

„You already are a good man.“

„Can I kiss you goodbye?“ You nodded. Bucky leaned down. He pressed his hard lips on your soft ones. You closed your eyes, hands resting on his broad shoulders. He wrapped his arms around your waist, securing you and pulling you closer to him.

„Wait for me, yeah?“ He whispered against your lips. 

„I would wait an eternity for you.“ You answered, getting the feeling that you have said those words before.

Bucky, Steve and Rahel arrived in Wakanda the next day. Over the past week Bucky got the feeling that Rahel and Steve got closer, that Steve trusted this chick even though they knew nothing about her.

Bucky lay down as Shuri was running some tests. „Is the girl outside the room your girlfriend?“, she asked curiously. Bucky was surprised. He turned to his left only to see Rahel’s eyes fully trained on him. „No, she’s just an acquaintance.“ Bucky answered, mindlessly playing with the necklace. „Ah, I get it. The girl who gave you that is your girlfriend.“, She nodded with her head to his necklace, smiling sincerely.

When Steve and Rahel came back from Wakanda you were already waiting for them. Your sword lay next to you but otherwise you looked normal. 

As Rahel walked through the door you held your sword’s blade against her throat

"Who are you?“ Steve had never heard so much authority and power in your voice.

„(Y/f/n) what are you doing?? That’s Rahel. She helped you.“ He said shocked

„I may have forgotten a lot of things but I know that Rahel died years ago in the big war. You locked me into my mind for a week and you told Bucky that it was his fault. So, I’m asking you again. Who are you? Reveal yourself!“, you commanded.

„Good to know that you haven’t forgotten everything, sister.“ Rahel’s beautiful face changed and a man was standing in her spot. Steve looked disturbed and disgusted while pursing his lips.

„Nathaniel, what are you playing at?“ 

„To make sure that history isn’t repeated. That you come to your senses and face the consequences. There is war up there and its entirely your fault.“ He shouted angrily.

„What? What war?“

„Like a civil war. Angels against Angels. Adoration versus human love. You choosing a mere human over heaven had dozen of consequences. You are a constant danger, a constant threat to heaven. You are the face of the revolution and I will no longer allow it.“ Before he could touch his weapon your sword already cut his throat. Orange light shone brightly and then it and his body disappeared. 

“What the heaven?!”

@jessyballet​  @geek-and-proud​ @xlostinobsessionsx​ @cataves​ @intothesoul​ @beminetokeep @ebxny27 @ceo-of-daichi​ @bluemoon-icecream-blog​ @peterbparkersbae​ @bbl32

[kumeko]

A/N: For @giyushinozine! I wanted to tangle with Shinobu’s growing feelings, the complicated mess of her not knowing how she feels only that their relationship isn’t the same as it was before.

…

…

…

…

It was raining. Standing on the threshold of an abandoned house, Shinobu breathed in the earthy air as she watched the steady downpour. Not even the birds and insects wanted to be caught in this weather, and Shinobu missed their usual song. Instead, she was serenaded by the soft plip as rain hit the hole-filled roof, the pitter-patter of droplets as they struck the earth.

This wasn’t the first storm that had caught her unawares. It probably wouldn’t be the last. If anything, a dilapidated building was better than the caves she’d hidden in before. There was no point in risking a cold by heading to the town proper and searching for an inn.

Well, there was one point. Shinobu grimaced as she looked over her shoulder. Barely visible in the gloom was Giyu. Suddenly she found herself longing for a damp cave. Maybe she could even just keep heading home; what was a feverish week in exchange for a couple of hours worth of peace? Getting trapped with Giyu was the worst luck. It had been off-putting running into him while returning from a mission, but spending the night with him?

The rain was looking more and more tempting. Shinobu stared at the dark clouds one last time before stepping back with a sigh. If she got sick and a demon attacked—she shook her head, refusing to entertain the idea any further. She could put up with Giyu until the rain stopped, at least.

Steeling herself, she turned around. The house was a small one with a simple layout. The biggest room was this first room, featuring a sunken hearth and space around for its occupants to huddle. Water leaked into the house from several sizeable holes in the ceiling, but luckily none were near the firepit. Unfortunately, while Giyu was sitting next to the hearth, he hadn’t actually started a fire. Hand on her hip, Shinobu tried to keep her irritation out of her voice as she asked, “Where’s the fire?”

He looked at her, a sleepy expression on his face, and shrugged. “It isn’t there.”

“I can see that.” Shinobu bit her cheek. This was just minute one. She had to at least make it to an hour before giving up. “Whyisn’t there a fire?”

“I didn’t start it,” he answered simply.

Maybe Kanao would visit her in jail. Shinobu gritted her teeth and quickly strode toward the center of the room. “This is why no one likes you. It’s common sense to start a fire when it’s cold.” Ignoring his surprised flinch—and honestly, why did that surprise him? He should know how everyone felt by now—, she knelt by the hearth and inspected the coal there. Oddly shaped and crumbly, they were at least dry and would hopefully kindle. “Otherwise we’ll get sick and the last thing I am doing is carrying you back.”

Giyu didn’t say anything, just watched as she pulled out her tinder. His eyes were barely visible in the half-light. At night, it would be impossible to see him at all. While that was preferable, she didn’t want to break her neck walking around this place in the dark. Luckily, it didn’t take long for the fire to take. The flames flickered to life, a thin curl of smoke rising to the roof. Immediately, the warmth hit her skin and she sat a little further back, letting the heat remove the chill from her bones. She sighed, “That’s better.”

He kept quiet. Soon, the crackling flames were the only sound in the room as they greedily gobbled up the remaining coal. Idly, Shinobu glanced at her companion. She could count the number of times she’d been alone with him with a single hand, maybe two. It was odd. They’d worked together for so long, but she’d never really thought of him before now. Maybe it was his lack of presence or the way he isolated himself. Even now, with no one around but the two of them, he kept to himself, his eyes trained on the fire.

Shinobu had never considered herself someone who needed conversation. She liked silence almost as much as she liked chatter, liked how doing nothing could sometimes be utterly comfortable. This was neither of those things. Feeling awkward and slightly unnerved, she wondered how she should break the silence. The shadows danced across his face in strange patterns. She kept adjusting her posture, her legs falling asleep as they waited, yet he hadn’t moved an inch.

In the end, she didn’t have to. Her stomach gurgled hungrily, and Shinobu immediately wrapped an arm around her waist as a mortified blush burned her neck. She snapped her attention to Giyu. Their eyes met and any hopes she had that he hadn’t noticed vanished. “I…” she mumbled, her brain running in circles as she tried to find an explanation that kept her dignity.

“Hungry?” Giyu asked.

“Yes,” she reluctantly admitted. Somehow, an hour had passed since they’d taken refuge. Even now, the rain didn’t let up, the droplets drumming on the roof as the night took over. Shinobu prided herself on her preparation, but she had planned on arriving home hours ago.

Something crinkled and she watched as Giyu pulled out a leaf-wrapped bundle. Holding it out, he offered, “You can have some.”

“I don’t need—” Her indignant response was immediately cut off as her stomach grumbled yet again. The hot blush on her neck crawled up her cheeks and there was no escaping this now. Flustered, she quickly got up and moved next to Giyu. As she sat down, her hand out to take the food, she growled, “You tell anyone about this and you’re dead.”

Confused, he cocked his head. “Why?”

She wasn’t sure if that was ‘Why would I tell anyone’ or ‘Why would I die’. She also didn’t care. How could she ever look anyone in the eye if they knew that Giyu of all people was more prepared than she was? Shaking her hand insistently, she snapped, “Does it matter?”

Giyu gave her a long, blank stare before slowly unwrapping his bundle, revealing three large onigiri. “No.”

Somehow, even when she got what she wanted, Giyu still frustrated her. What did he think of it all? Did he care? He had thawed since their last, but changes with him were as subtle as erosion on a rock. It didn’t help that he was as dense as one. Fighting down her irritation, she plucked one of the rice balls from his hand. The very round rice balls—Giyu took the ‘ball’ part literally it seemed. Still, maybe it tasted good.

A single bite dashed her hopes: the food was as tasteless as he was. Resisting the urge to gag at its blandness, she asked, “Do you know what salt is?”

“Yes.” Of course his expression remained utterly placid as he ate. Bite after bite, his face was as still as a lifeless pond. Maybe his taste buds had died long ago. Noticing her stare, he held out the last ball. “You want another?”

She couldn’t stop the grimace. “I can barely handle this one.” There was no point in nuance or tip-toeing around a matter with him. If Shinobu didn’t bluntly state it, he wouldn’t get it. “Did you make this? It’s terrible.”

“Terrible?” Shocked, he looked at the ball, then back at her. It was like kicking an ugly puppy.

“Yes, terrible. You can’t serve this to anyone.” Shinobu rolled her eyes. “How did you mess up something so simple? Even I can do this.”

“Oh.” Looking utterly devastated, he stared at the rice ball. It was impressive how broken he looked, even though his expression didn’t change much.

“Just add salt next time,” Shinobu relented, already tired of insulting him. Like this, he reminded her too much of Kanao when she’d first started learning things. Kanao. Her mind wandered to the Butterfly Estate, to the five girls waiting there. Well, perhaps four now that Kanao had her own duties. Aoi would be worried. She always worried too much. “She won’t like this,” she muttered, half to herself.

Still chewing on his riceball like a hamster, Giyu shot her an inquisitive look. “Who?”

She hadn’t intended to say that aloud. Another clumsy mistake in front of him. Maybe she should just bury him under the wisteria trees; they needed the nourishment. Reticently, she mumbled, “Aoi.”

He only looked at her, perplexed. Shinobu longed for the good old days when she didn’t care about anything. Louder now, she repeated, “Aoi. I’m late from the mission, she must be worried.”

“She isn’t,” Giyu replied immediately.

It took her a full minute to process his response. Gritting her teeth, she asked politely, “Why not?”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he stated flatly with the absolute assurance that only a complete moron had.

Last Shinobu had heard, there was another water pillar in training. They wouldn’t miss Giyu’s absence for long. Curling her hand into a fist, Shinobu glared at him. “This might be a foreign concept to you, but some people actually care about others.”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure what about him made her so angry. It couldn’t just be his rudeness—Sanemi was twice as rude and she didn’t want to murder him at every encounter. No, it had to be something deeper than that, but she didn’t want to waste her thoughts on it, on him. Focusing instead on her nails digging into her skin, she forced herself to calm down.

Now that her appetite was appeased, however badly, she listened to their surroundings once more. The rain tapped unevenly on the roof, the storm abating slightly. Unfortunately, it was still rain. She was still trapped here with him. Resigning herself to her fate, she shifted to get more comfortable one. “Even in this weather, a demon might come. We’ll have to take shifts,” she announced, rubbing the back of her neck.

Giyu nodded his agreement.

When he didn’t say anything else, Shinobu added irately, “I’ll take first watch.”

Once more, he merely nodded. Rude, lacking manners, utterly unreadable—Shinobu didn’t know how it was possible to find only new disappointments with a single person. The only thing he had going for him was his slightly above-average looks, and even that was ruined the second he did something. Fine, whatever, she thought. It wasn’t like she could sleep comfortably, knowing the only thing between her and death was him.

Leaning forward, she stoked the coals once more, embers flying as she gathered the broken rocks together. “Make sure this doesn’t disappear when it’s your turn.” Satisfied, Shinobu sat back and stretched her arms above her. Maybe she should take a walk after this and smooth out the crinks in her back. “I’ll wake you up in four hours.”

“Okay.” Crossing his arms, Giyu buried his hands in his sleeves. His eyes remained open.

“You know you can sleep, right?” she asked, just in case he didn’t understand what a ‘watch’ meant. The other pillars didn’t like him, after all. Maybe he’d never gone on a mission this long with someone other than her.

“Yes,” he nodded, his eyes still wide open. There was nothing about his stiff posture that looked like a man about to sleep.

It wasn’t worth pursuing it any further. She refused to go bald from the stress of dealing with him. And if he didn’t trust her abilities enough to rest, well, he was the one who wanted to pull an all-nighter.

Making herself comfortable, Shinobu rested her cheek on her hand as she watched the coals. It was going to be a long, uneventful night. Even demons didn’t like coming out on nights like these. In the distance, she heard an owl hoot, the rustling of leaves, the chirping of crickets. The rain almost washed it all out, a steady static noise. It had been too long since she’d had an uneventful night like this.

An hour passed. Then another. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she observed Giyu’s profile. He was just as hard to grasp from his side as he had been from the front. Maybe he’d be a mystery to her for her entire life. Tired as she was, that didn’t sound entirely bad.

“You’re strong,” he said, breaking the silence. She wasn’t sure if she was still in her watch or part way through his now.

Drowsy, she retorted, “Of course I am.”

“You’re strong,” he repeated, as though she hadn’t said anything. “So no one has to worry about you. The strong…” he paused. She could feel the weight of it. “The strong come back.”

She didn’t have to ask if that was personal experience. There was only one reason anyone joined the corps, after all. Still, Shinobu wished she was sitting across the fire, still able to see his expression. Or even just was more awake than she was now. His voice had a flavour to it. She could only imagine what he looked like.

Her eyes closed. Opened. Closed again. The next time Shinobu was aware of her surroundings, there was a warmth behind her head and a strong arm around her shoulders. Giyu’s, her fuzzy mind provided helpfully. She should be disgusted, but it was warm and comfortable, so she’d allow it just this once. His breathing was even, as always, and she fell asleep once more to the sound of his heartbeat.

When Shinobu woke up the next morning, she was alone. Curled up on the ground and a jacket covering her shoulders, but utterly alone. Rubbing her eyes, she slowly sat up and glanced around. Sunlight filtered through the holes in the roof, illuminating the place. There wasn’t hide nor hair of Giyu anywhere. It felt almost like a dream, though if it had him in it, it had to be a nightmare.

The only proof that any of it happened was his jacket on her shoulders, keeping her warm. It fell to her lap in a crumpled heap as she straightened up. Gingerly, she picked it up between two fingers, eyeing the fabric distastefully.

What, exactly, was she supposed to do with this? Returning it felt like a loss. Shinobu glanced at the hearth in front of her. She could still burn it in there; even if the coals were gone, there was plenty of dry wood in this house.

She bit her lip, studying the jacket once more. Part of her could still feel the warmth of his shoulder, hear his quiet voice. Shinobu couldn’t return it, couldn’t destroy it. Couldn’t figure out exactly what riled her up about this man. It’d be easier if she didn’t care or was truly as disgusted by him as she acted.

Sighing, she folded the damned fabric. If she couldn’t figure out what to do with it now, she’d just have to keep it until she did.

[randomoranges]

rambly fic thing as always. 

Boxed Up

It’s a quiet dinner, safe for the scrape of forks against the dinner plates. Well – mostly his fork against his dish. Étienne’s been playing with his food more than actually eating at it, digging out the wild mushrooms from the risotto and chewing on them for longer than necessary. He’s been this way for the better part of the week and Edward has no idea what’s been eating at him. He’s asked, on more than one occasion, but Étienne’s been cagey. Edward’s giving him until the weekend before sitting him down proper and confronting him about whatever’s been bothering him. It’s been a hell of a week and a crazy month at that too, so it could be a myriad of different things, for all he knows.

 He’d ask now, over dinner, but they’re both tired and he’s not sure he has enough energy for pushing the issue until it’s solved. He feels as though he’ll just end up hurting his partner by saying the wrong thing, despite the best of his intentions. Therefore, he gives Étienne space and just hopes that he’ll come around in his own time. He can tell that Étienne wants to breech whatever has been bothering him, but he too is looking for the right time. Edward worries. Always. It’s part of his nature. He knows how Étienne can get and doesn’t want that for him.

 Edward’s about to clear the dishes, seeing as Étienne’s made little to no progress on his meal, when, as if reading his mind, his boyfriend speaks out, quiet and fragile, over his mound of simmered rice and mushrooms.

 “Are you happy?” He asks and Edward blinks, wondering if he’s even heard right.

 “What?” He asks intelligibly, the question having taken him by surprise.

 “Are you bored?” Étienne asks instead.

 “What?” He repeats, a broken machine that has failed to comprehend the simply task that’s been asked of it.

 “Of us. Are you bored of us – our relationship – our lives? Are you happy being here – with me and our life?”

 He blinks again. He has no idea where this is coming from. He would have never guessed that this has been the issue plaguing his boyfriend’s mind. He wonders what this means. Where Étienne wants to go with this and if it isn’t some cataclysm to something bigger and mightier.

 Instead, he takes a sip of water to buy him some time to ponder the best way to answer these questions other than stating the obvious. At least – the obvious to him.

 “I’m not bored,” He says, finally, “And I’m quite happy with our life together.”

 He thinks maybe that will be that and Étienne will be content with the answer, but he’s known the other for too long and so he’s able to tell that there’s still more gnawing at his mind.

 “Are you – unhappy? Bored? Is this what this is about?” He asks, fear taking hold of his own mind. Is Étienne about to tell him that he wants a break? Wants to end this? Edward would be devastated. Blindsided as well.

 “What – no! I like our life!” He says quickly, almost insulted Edward would suggest otherwise. “I’m just – it’s just – don’t you find we spend too much time together?”

 Sometimes, he wishes Étienne could be clear when he talks about things that are bothering him. The roadmap to the real issue is always a complicated mess with sharp turns and pedantic questions that lead from one existential dilemma to another, until finally, with careful word choice, Edward is able to get to the real root of the problem. He momentarily wishes Étienne would have waited until the weekend to expose his issues – when they’d both be more rested, but he supposes he’ll take what he can. At least, he thinks, Étienne is talking. In his own complicated way.

 “What do you mean?”

 “We’re literally always together. We work together. You drive me to work. We have lunch together – often. We do things on weekends together – usually. Aren’t you afraid that at some point you’ll get bored? Is this what life is all about? Is this what you really want out of your life? Don’t you wish it was more exciting? Is this what you wanted when you were younger?”

 He’s getting closer to the nucleus, Edward can tell, but there are still some other red flags popping up along the way that Edward wants to address. To make sure Étienne is okay. That there isn’t some other bigger issue hidden in the shadows.

 “I mean – no, I don’t think I saw myself living this exact life when I was a teenager – then again, I didn’t think much beyond what I would be doing next weekend. But, I don’t feel suffocated by the time we spend together. We’re not always together either, even if we do work at the same place. It might be a little unconventional, but we have our own friends we see without the other and activities we do on our own. Like when I go skiing over March break and you go down south with Emma.” He tries and hopes he’s hit a mark. Étienne nods, as if reassured by this and Edward lets out a breath he’s been holding.

 “I can’t speak for the future, but right now, I’m not bored. It might not be the most exciting life, but I like it just fine... I like what we’re building together.” There’s a pause and when Étienne doesn’t say anything, he figures he’ll take a shortcut, “What’s this all really about, Étienne?”

 Étienne sighs deeply and decapitates his mound of risotto with the back of his fork. “I don’t know,” He starts and then jabs the rice, “I mean – I do, but – it’s just – we’ve been together for a while now – years, really and it’s just – I’d hate for you to wake up one morning, turn around and realise that this has been a waste. That you’ve missed out on some big adventure or something.”

 He wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He’s always considered his life with Étienne to be his big adventure. In all his wildest dreams, he’d never thought he’d get this – stability, a partner he loves and who loves him back – even when he drives him crazy.

 “When did we become boring, old queers, Ed?”

 This time, he does laugh – a soft little chuckle – and he also reaches over for Étienne’s hand to give it a squeeze.

 “I think we’re just getting older. We want different things and are at different points in our lives.”

 “Are we though? I mean – I remember when I was twenty and hitting the clubs. I had some crazy, wild fun nights, at the time. Meeting new people, staying up ‘til all hours. Hooking up. Going to one party after another. God, when’s the last time we even had drag brunch? You used to bring me to those all the time! When’s the last time you even saw your friends from drag?! Now we’re just – two people. Where’s our rebellious spark?!”

 Edward quiets. Étienne has a point. He remembers his own youth, way back when, and the crazy things he’d done. The trips with his friends to other queer cities, the drag shows he’d gotten involved with, volunteering for Pride and such. It feels like a different lifetime ago – something that could have even happened to a different person all together. Had they really done any of those things?

 “When’s the last time we even saw any of our queer friends? It’s like the only circle we’re involved in now is the teacher one. I had to find out through Facebook that Steven and Max broke up. Steve and Max!”

 There we go, Edward thinks, the nucleus.

 “If they can break up then who’s to say it can’t happen to us?”

 The news had come as a blow to both of them, really. Edward had met Steve and Max through Étienne and even then, already, they had been Steve-and-Max. They’d been together for nearly twenty years and were an inspiration, really. Despite being together, they were still active in the community, still went out, and still enjoyed life. Max had even proposed to Steve, a few years ago, and anyone who’d seen the video of the proposal had cried at how utterly sweet and romantic it was.

 “Sweetheart, listen – no one knows for sure what’s going to happen to us in the future. But I promise I’m not bored and I like being with you. If ever anything changes, I would absolutely tell you. The best we can do is to take it a day at a time and check in with each other, if ever we feel like something is off.”

 “I guess,” Étienne mumbles, “But when did it get like this? When did we get washed out?

Sometimes I feel like I’ve been erased. That any personality trait I have or had is gone. All I am is a teacher. Day in and day out. I only ever get to be myself on few occasions. Convenient periods of time pre-established by the school agenda. When did I stop being the person you met when we started dating? When we used to do things that were something else than Being a Teacher?”

 Edward doesn’t say anything. He gets it. So much. It has never fully occurred to him, but Étienne has hit the nail on the head. There have been times, when, upon reflection, he’s felt as though the institution of school has been like a closet and that he’s been forced back in it. Hiding who he is. Not being his true authentic self, but some persona. The teacher persona. Sure, he hasn’t exactly rocked the boat and announced to the school that he’s queer, but he also doesn’t want to. Because it’s his personal life. And because there’s some deep fear anchored deep within him. It might be the twenty-first century, but it’s not a walk in the park either. So he’s kept quiet. Has hidden things about himself, when once, years ago, he had never shied away from being gay.

 Therefore, M Édouard and Edward are two different people. He wonders, briefly, who gets to see the real Edward Murphy and if there’s ever been one, or if, instead, each facet is a part of the real Edward. It’s late and he’s tired. This isn’t the time or day for this type of talk or thought, yet now it nags at him as well, calling for attention.

 “We started dating over summer break – we didn’t have to worry about work and we had all the time in the world. Plus, that was years ago, we’ve also changed – we want new things now.” He tries, repeats, and hopes he sounds as convincing as he’s meant to be – as reassuring.

 “Then why does it feel like settling?”

 Why does it, really?

 “If you could,” He says instead, “What would you do differently?”

 Étienne, this time, is silent as he ruminates. “I don’t know – I mean, I guess the obvious would be to actually talk about my boyfriend when asked. All the teachers with kids keep talking about their goddamned outing apple picking and showing off pictures of their kids with the apples and whatever. Don’t get me wrong, it’s cute but all I ever hear is about the kids, what happened at daycare and weekends up north. I want to talk about my night out at the club, or show pictures of me and my boyfriend on vacation, or whatever other basic human thing I’ve done with my partner without having to fear I’ll get spat at. Or something.  I want to be able to exist. Fully. Not just in parts. I don’t want to be afraid when I show the kids a new artist who happens to be queer. I don’t want to gloss over the facts. I want to wear nail polish to school if I want to. Every inane thing I never questioned before. Most of all, I just want to be.”

 Edward wonders if it would be different if there was actual tangible support they could see. If other teachers spoke about these things – about their queer friends and family – about themselves; if it would feel different and safe. He wonders how many others of their own colleagues are in the same situation and keep to themselves out of fear and he wonders about the other queer teachers who don’t even have a friend or confidant at work. He considers himself lucky, really, that somehow, Étienne managed to find work at his school – that they’ve found each other. Even when they’d only been friends. It had been a blessing to be able to confide in Étienne, then – to have someone who got it.

 “We can always try,” He says after a lapsed moment of silence, “To be more of ourselves – to test the waters, so to say. If someone’s gotta do it, why not us?” He’s not sure how it’ll look, but – they can give it a shot. Take the proverbial baby step. See how it goes.

 “I guess you’re right – just wish it wasn’t always so – exhausting.”

 They leave it at that for now and clear off the table. Once the dishes are done and the leftovers boxed up in the refrigerator, they retire to the living room. Étienne finds solace in Edward’s arms and the two spend a quiet evening replaying the previous conversation in their minds, lost in their own rambling thoughts. There’s a lot to process and they’re both painfully aware that change will take time.

 “What if we tried to actively re-engage with the community – go back to our old hangouts – call up our friends?” Edward suggests, sometime later.

 Étienne ponders this for a moment and then nods, “We might as well try.”

 They may as well. If not them, then who?

 FIN

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Dimension Jumping pt. 4

The Fellowship x Reader

You went back to work, Pippin is triggered about cookies, and you gotta play mediator.

---

After that whole mushroom scare, you elected to no longer worry about the questionable things the hobbits consume. You kinda just leave it up to Sam to help you cook and make things that everyone likes, though it's hard to please so many people every night when you're not motivated to make more than one dish. 

Trips to the grocery store became a lot more expensive and frequent, and while you can definitely pay for it you know that you can't keep on like this forever. 

So you've decided that the best course of action to take is alternating between working at home and at the office so you can hunt down more leads. 

The reason your boss is so lenient on your attendance is because of your crystal clean record and nature of your job. 

Honestly, you don't even really have to go into work as is, but being as the office is the only place you can really get some human actual interaction (not including Brian). Now though, there's not much of a reason to go. 

But anyway, you decide to go into work today and have yet to tell everyone else, so when you walked out of your room that morning in your business casual outfit and greeted everyone normally, you got a bunch of weird looks. 

"Are you going out somewhere? To the store again, maybe?" Pippin asks, walking up to you with curiosity in his face. 

You reach down and ruffle his hair fondly, replying simply, "I'm going to work today."

"Work?" He asks, furrowing his eyebrows, "What about that man who won't stop bothering you?" 

Ah, you should've guessed he would ask about that, "I've just gotta deal with it, babe, it be like that sometimes." 

"Are you sure that's the best idea? He came to your home, after all." Aragorn pipes up from his spot on the couch.

And guess who's in his fucking lap again? That's right, Penny. That bitch (literally).

"I'm not going to be scolded by a dog thief." You reply faux-bitterly, pouting as your gaze fixes on your white fluff ball of joy. 

"Dog thief?" He repeats incredulously, shaking his head, "Just because your dog has taken to me doesn't mean-"

You put your hand up and interrupt not so kindly, "I don't wanna hear it." From the smile threatening to come on to your face, he can tell you're not truly angry or upset, so he allows himself to laugh a bit as he runs a hand down her soft back. 

"Alright," he pauses and his expression becomes more serious, "I still don't think it's a good idea, though. After you lied about being with another person, he's surely not going to be very kind." 

Fair, yes, but you don't care anyway. "I'll be fine, really. The only problem I'll probably have is being worried about all of you all day..." You sigh at that admittance and turn to go put on your boots. 

"If you're sure..." 

"I am." 

---

The day went about as good as you expected it to be.

Brian was all in your business, hanging out in your work area, talking to you and asking about 'Aaron' aka Aragorn and his brother 'Beau' aka Boromir, and touching your shoulders and stuff like a total creep-so. 

Of course, you didn't tell him to fuck off like you wanted to, but that okay because you don't fancy being laid off. 

When you get back you're greeted by two hobbits and a fluffy puppy. The latter of which immediately jumped on you and began to wag her tail so fast that she nearly turns back time. 

You crouch down and wrap your arms around her tightly, speaking in a high pitched voice, "Aw, who's my good girl? I missed you so much my sweet baby, oh I love you so much!" You kiss her multiple times and rock back and forth with her in your arms until she begins to pull back. 

She turns when you let her go and trots back to Aragorn, and the glare you point at him is so withering and resentful that it could've killed a thousand men. 

And by withering and resentful I mean pouty and petulantly irritated. 

He laughs at your expense, but you ignore him and turn to the hobbits and smile at them brightly, "Did ya miss me?"

"Y/N, do you want a cookie?" Pippin asks suddenly, not answering your question. 

"What?"

"A cookie. Like one of those round black and white cookies. Do you want one?" He clarifies, tapping his foot a few times while Merry sighs. 

You look at him weirdly and shake your head no, "Um, not at the moment. No." 

"How can you not want one?" 

"I just don't."

"Fine, then let's say you wanted one and there were some in the cupboard. What would you do?"

"Um, I guess I'd eat one if I were in the mood." 

"Exactly, that's what I'm saying." He states, nodding his head as he looks at Merry.

"Wait, what are you saying? I'm confused." He's literally making no sense. 

"That if someone wants a cookie, then they should get one. It's what people do." 

"I mean, yes I guess you're right..." And then it dawns on you, "Boromir and Aragon won't let you have a cookie." 

"No! Even though I'm practically starving, they won't consider it. They say I must eat lunch first!" He sounds like he's been offended in the worst of ways, insulted and stripped of his rights... what a drama queen. 

"And you don't find that fair?" You ask, leaning back on the balls of your feet as you look at Aragorn over the top of his head with a raised eyebrow. 

Aragorn just shrugs his shoulders.

"You just said that if you wanted a cookie then you would get one, so why can't I? I'm no child, and I can make decisions for myself." 

"Well, I guess that's fair. You are an adult." The only way out of this odd conversation is agreement. 

"It's just not fair. If they want one they can have one, if you want one then you can have one, but if I want one? The rules don't count. Like you said, it's not fair!"

You look at Merry and ask, "Are you having the same problem as him?"

"Yes, but I don't care as much." 

"Well, what are you both going to do about it? Hobbit rebellion?" 

Pippin crosses his arms and grumbles, "Well, I'm going to eat lunch. Because I have to. Because the world isn't fair to hobbits." 

You don't say anything to that and instead slowly walk away from the door, glancing around the room to see if anyone else is there. 

"Where is everyone?" You question, walking up to Aragorn who is crouched down and petting Penny. 

"Gimli and Boromir are outside with Frodo and Sam and Legolas... I'm not sure where he is." 

You hum your understanding and then ask, "So, no cookies for Pippin and Merry." 

He smiles at your question and chuckles quietly, standing back up to his full height, "It's not good for them to have confections without something sturdy first." 

"Well I'm sure you heard, but Pippin is very torn up about it. Absolutely devastated." Of course, you're joking and he can tell as much, though his little speech there almost made you want to comply and give him some cookies against their wishes. 

"Do not worry about them. Once they've eaten they'll get what they desire." He assures, looking over at the two whispering hobbits. 

---

They did end up getting their cookies, luckily for them, and they ate their lunches too. Eventually, Frodo, Sam and the rest of them came back inside, and you noticed right away that they're getting sick of being cooped up inside your house 24/7. 

You can probably take the taller bunch of them out at some point, but they're the least high maintenance of this group. Merry, Pippin, and Sam are just itching to go out and see more than just the rooms of your house and your backyard, and Gimli is starting to get rather stir crazy too. Frodo doesn't seem too bothered by it luckily enough, but that doesn't mean he's 100% good with staying in one place for so long. 

Also, it seems that in your world that ring doesn't have any power because the dark-haired hobbit explained that he hasn't felt or heard anything from it since arriving there. What it sounds like to you is the ring lost its connection since they're in another dimension entirely, which is both good and confusing. 

Anyway, you've been trying to come up with a way to take everyone out of the house at some point so they can see more than just the same things over and over, but you can't really come up with any sort of disguise or cover story that would explain the more vertically challenged 4 of them. Gimli could probably just barely pass if he were to wear taller shoes, and Legolas could probably get by with a hat to cover his ears... but still. 

You don't bring this issue up yet, but you do know that eventually, they'll want to leave and see some more so that they don't go mad inside your house. 

"Y/N?" Someone says loudly suddenly. 

You look over quickly and see Legolas staring straight into your soul. 

Was he talking to you? Did he ask you a question or something? Oh god, you don't know! "Um... yeah?" 

"You did not hear what I said." He states matter of factly, amusement sparkling in his eyes. 

You shake your head 'no' slowly, sheepishly rubbing the back of your head. "N-No, sorry... I was, er, thinking about something."

"May I ask what?" Ever the curious bastard. 

"It's nothing important really, what were you saying?" 

Your quick change in subject does not go by unnoticed, but there is no questioning on it on his part either. Instead, he repeats what he said before, "I only wished to know if I could accompany you on your next outing." 

"Um, well yeah that'd be nice but you'd have to like, wear a hat or something. Your ears will freak people out." You realize how that sounds right away and backtrack quickly, "N-Not that I think your ears are weird or anything! It's just people haven't seen anything like it here, s-so..." Oh god, why did you have to say it like that? 

He raises a delicate blond eyebrow and chuckles lightly, observing your flustered form with humor sparkling in his eyes, "I know you meant no offense. Please, you needn't be so wary of me or your words." 

He has such a whimsical way of speaking, and you find that you like it quite a bit. "Right, sorry... Well, um you can come with me but you've gotta wear a hat." This time when you say it, you say it with a bit more confidence. 

"I can do that." He replies easily. 

---

"Y/N?" Sam calls from his spot on the couch next to you. 

You turn your head away from the TV and look down at him, raising an eyebrow, "Yeah?" 

"Do you abuse drugs? Like how you told that man Boromir does." 

You laugh nervously and answer his question with a question, "Why do you ask?" 

"Because you seemed to know a lot about it when you explained it the other day." 

There is silence for all of 10 seconds. "Well you're damn right I abuse drugs. I see a drug, and I push the hell out of it! Get lost drugs." You exclaim, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Sam looks at you weirdly and asks more slowly this time, "But I thought they weren't alive?" 

"They aren't. It was a joke." 

Realization spreads across his face and he smiles this time, "Oh! Well, it was really funny!" 

You know it wasn't but you take it anyway and look back at the TV. "Well of course it was. I'm hilarious if you haven't already noticed." You don't actually find yourself to be that funny, but if you keep up the confidence and pretend like you know what you're doing; then no one else will question you or your humor. Why did he even ask you that anyways, it was completely random...

"Why did you ask?" You question with furrowed eyebrows. 

Sam's smile fades a bit but doesn't disappear completely, "Oh, well you see I was just thinkin' an awful lot about it and then I figured I might as well just ask since you've never been against answerin' my questions before." 

Fair enough. 

You nod your head in understanding and say nothing more about it. 

This comfortable silence prevails for a little while before there is a sudden crash in the guest room and some yelling. 

You almost get up to go ask what's going on, but Pippin storms out before you have to and goes to join everyone else outside. With a raised brow you turn your head to look back at Sam, but he only rolls his eyes and grumbles, "Those two are always gettin' into something." 

---

Later that night while everyone is winding down and getting ready for bed, though you're still in the living room with your laptop on your legs. 

The TV has long since been turned off so the only sound in the room is the soft clacking of your fingers hitting the letter keys. 

You look up sharply at the sound of a door opening and closing and see Merry leaving the guest room with a sour expression on his face. 

Right away curiosity gets the best of you, but you don't say or do anything right away and instead opt to watch him from over the top of your computer screen to see where he goes. Cause there have been a few instances where you've caught him and Pippin raiding your kitchen for some midnight snacks since you usually work in the dark so they don't see you right away.

Instead of heading towards the kitchen, though, he looks right at you and walks over, taking a seat next to you still without saying anything. 

"Merry?" You question after a moment of looking at him and him looking at the wall, your eyebrows furrowed, "Is everything okay." 

"Pippin isn't talking to me." 

Your mouth runs before you can even think of an actual proper response to that, "Enjoy it while it lasts." 

He looks up at you with an expression akin to annoyance on his face and then grumbles, "I was trying to." 

Ah, so this is more than just a silly little thing.

You move your computer off your legs and place it on the coffee table, turning towards him with your legs crossed on the couch, "Well, what happened? Why won't he talk to you." 

He doesn't reply right away, looking away from your face as he seems to deliberate over telling you or not, "He was being stupid earlier and I smacked him over the head and he dropped his treat on the floor and it got ruined." 

It's silent while you wait for him to go on, but he just continues to look at you expectantly. 

"Wait, that's it?" You ask incredulously, looking at him like he'd grown two heads. 

"Yes, that's it. Is there supposed to be more?" 

Good god, these guys are total babies. 

You sigh and shake your head at the ridiculousness of it all. Though you do have to fix this, so you get up walk over to the guest room and knock on the door lightly. 

Boromir is the person to answer the door, and when he sees you standing there he offers a smile, "Oh, hello Y/N." 

"Yes, hi. Is Pippin in there?" You question, standing up on your toes to look over his shoulder into the room. 

"This is about their argument." He states, not answering your question. 

"It is. Tell him to come here." 

He nods and turns his head, "Pippin, will you join us for a moment?" 

Said hobbit sits up from underneath his pile of blankets and looks over at the two of you wearily, but gets up and walks over regardless. "Yes? What is it?" He inquires, looking up between you and Boromir a couple of times. 

You take a step back and ask quietly so as to not disturb the others, "Why won't you talk to Merry?" 

"Because he ruined my food." He replies curtly, looking up at you with a frown on his face. "Did he send you here to convince me to talk to him again?" 

Yikes, he got you. "Maybe he did." 

"Well tell him I'm not interested." 

"Pippin, come now calm down. Surely Merry hasn't made you that angry." Boromir cuts in, placing his hand down on his shoulder. 

"Can't the two of you try and see this from my perspective?" 

A moment of silence passes by before you slowly crouch down in sync with Boromir. 

"Oh, it is different down here." You comment as a smile begins to creep on your face. 

Pippin doesn't say anything or react right away before he turns and goes back to his makeshift bed and crawls under the covers. 

You stand up normally again and look up at Boromir who also stands to his full height once more, "I think that may have been a mistake." 

"Undoubtedly so." 

You laugh lightly and then step out of the doorway. "I'll go break the news to Merry then, good night." And with that, you walk off down the hallway again and rejoin Merry in the living room. 

When you walk in he looks up and smiles with hope shining in his eyes. 

Poor dear. 

"Well?" He asks, standing up from his spot on the couch. 

"So, I talked to Pippin..." 

"And?"

"Now he's not talking to me or Boromir." 

His eyes go wide and he looks truly shocked. "What!? What did you do?" 

"Well he asked us to see things from his perspective and so we both crouched down to your height and it seemed he didn't quite like that." 

It's silent for about 10 seconds before he slowly continues, "So he's now not speaking to me, you,  or  Boromir? Because you couldn't keep yourself from making a short joke?" 

"That sounds about right." You nod along, plopping back down on the couch. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"The messenger wasn't supposed to tease him more! He probably thinks I sent you to do that!" He complains, standing in front of you with his arms crossed. 

"Then maybe you shouldn't have messed up his food. You know how much he loves it." A rational argument on your end if you do say so yourself. It's true after all. You should be allowed to make short jokes if you want to damn it, and no cousinly spat is going to prevent you from doing just that. And let's be real, getting one of the tall dudes in on it only made it so much more awesome. 

"I suppose that's fair..." 

You nod your head and then pull your computer back into your lap, then say a bit softer, "You should just talk to him and tell him how sorry you are. He's your cousin- he loves you and won't let something silly like this split you up. I'm sure he's only trying to see how long you'll last before going crazy, anyways." 

"Yes... That is something he would do." 

"Mhm. There's no way he's actually mad at you, so go talk to him." You reach out a hand and pat his shoulder gently, a smile upturning the corners of your lips. 

He smiles vibrantly, reaching up to pat your hand on his shoulder lightly, "Thank you!" 

"My pleasure." 

[doof-doofblog]

"Can You Get A Message To Her?"

Monday 22nd March 2021

Hello again folks! Hope you're all doing well! We're back with a start of a new week, I'm intrigued what's going to happen with this week's episode's, Friday's episode ended on such an emotional note, I'm intrigued to see how Chelsea is going to cope knowing her Dad is in prison because of her, maybe it's something that she'll get over gradually. I'd be shocked if she was just to get over it over night, it wouldn't be realistic to me. But we shall see!

Now lets focus on the episode at hand, I'm going to start with Vinny. I guess it's fair to say that for a long while now Vinny hasn't really been agreeing with the way his family handle situations regarding the police. So when the police arrive at their front door wanting Vinny to make a statement regarding the youths that almost attacked him, he is more than willing to help cooperate with the police. But as soon as Suki and Kheerat hear about what's happening they are furious with Vinny and instruct him not to go the police and refuse to help them with their investigation. The thing that really grasped my attention was when Suki stated "We don't help the police, and you know why!" - Oooo there are so many questions resolving around the Panesar's past. What happened before they arrived in Walford? They clearly have some bad history with the police, but what?! I'm so intrigued and the more time goes on, I'm eager to find out their back story!

Later on in the episode, Vinny appears to be minding the shop as Callum enters following a discussion with Ben about guests and flower arrangements for their wedding. However as Ben makes a quick exit, Callum begins to make friendly conversation with Vinny about the police visiting him and asking him for a statement regarding the night he was almost attacked by youths. But when Vinny reveals that he's decided not to go to the police, mainly down to brother (as far as I heard), Callum seems really disappointed. But interestingly gives Vinny some wise words, he's not the only who has family on his back every day, Vinny needs to find the courage and strength to make his own decisions, regardless whether his family like it or not, if he either doesn't feel comfortable or disapproves with the way his family do things, maybe he's better off standing on his own two feet, instead of following rules, make his own rules and lead life the way he wants. Callum's life lesson to Vinny seems to really hit home for him and sink in, as eventually as he's walking alone in the Square, Vinny eventually finds himself outside the police station. Will he take Callum's advice?!

--

The next thing I want to mention is Tiffany and Keegan. Early on in the episode, Keegan is seen to be in deep concentration as he's sat alone punching numbers, as it were. As they joke about the first change they get to visit Florida will be in 17 years time, Keegan reveals to his wife that he has a meeting with the bank next week, however he seems a little bit negative about the whole thing. (Once again!) Keegan has it in his mind that the bank will instantly refuse to give him a loan, due to the colour of his skin. I don't know why this is dragging on for so long, but Keegan seems to have it bedded in his mind that the police force and possibly people in high roles than him are possibly racist? I cannot stress enough that that isn't the case!

Even Tiffany tries to reassure her husband and informs him that he can't go to the bank requesting a loan with that kind of attitude. But then Keegan seems to have an idea and asks his wife to join him at the meeting. Suggesting that if he had his wife there with him, they could take them seriously about having a loan. Plus if they're successful, it would mean that Tiffany wouldn't have to do her hostessing job anymore. Tiffany at first seems really nervous and claims that she'd probably ruin everything, but to give her husband her full support, she eventually agrees.

Later on at the club, Tiffany seems to be serving a woman who happens to work in a bank and seems to be at the top of her game regarding her job role. Tiffany takes this chance to ask her for some advice about herself and her husband seeking a loan, but instead of giving her a genuine answer, I kind of thought this lady insulted Tiffany by instructing her to get rid of her husband! I mean, how bloody rude! Although, she does get karma coming to her as Tiffany realises she's been overcharged by £50! But Dotty seems to have overheard the commotion and suggests that they keep the £50 tip as it'll give Tiffany a chance to find something decent to wear when she goes to this bank meeting. It's then that Dotty also has another idea, with the clientele that they're serving at the club, maybe they could simply start overcharging people by a couple of pounds, with the amount of money that they have and spend, none of them would probably notice. As much as Tiffany knows it's wrong, she eventually agrees to the idea, on the condition that they don't go too overboard with the overcharging. Even though this could help Tiffany and Keegan's money problems, I do think that maybe this could put Tiffany in big trouble if she was to get caught?!

--

One thing I have to briefly mention also, I absolutely loved how they included a conversation between Suki, Patrick and Karen regarding the Covid-19 vaccination. After suffering from Covid himself, Patrick revealed to Suki that he had already had his two doses of the vaccine, to which Suki responds that she has her first one booked later in the week. However, the interesting thing is when Karen overhears the conversation, she seems to a bit suspicious about the whole, claiming her concerns about what the vaccine could do to us in about 5 or 10 years time, which I get is probably most people's concern. I have to say though, I've seen a few headlines about this small scene claiming that people are shocked to hear that Karen is an "Anti-Vaxxer!" - I guess you could say that script writers are only trying to portray it from different people's point of view, unfortunately there are people out there who are anti-vaxxers and believe all sorts of conspiracy theories about Covid-19, but I think that this scene they're trying to maybe make people change their mind about having the vaccine, and I mean that in a positive way. Maybe it'll change those anti-vaxxers minds and convince them to have vaccine, instead of promoting it, if you get what I mean?! After the way both Patrick and Suki spoke about their disappointment and concerns to Karen, Karen mind seemed to change almost instantly! On a personal level, I have luckily had my first dose of the vaccine, so happy days! We are slowly on our way to getting back to some form of normality, let's keep our fingers crossed!

--

The next thing I have to mention is Stacey and Jean. It seems that Stacey has been told by some solicitor that she could be facing up to a year in prison for the alleged assault on Ruby. We all know that Stacey is innocent, even though Stacey seems to have come to terms with the fact that there is simply no evidence to back her side of the story (which we all know is the truth) - the main person who seems to be fretting about Stacey's future is Jean. Poor Jean simply can't fathom the thought of her daughter being back in prison, after everything she's been through. Plus considering the very important fact that Jean could be facing more time alone dealing with her illness. I'm assuming that she's still keeping it a secret from her family that she found another lump a while back? As far as my knowledge goes, Jean hasn't mentioned it since, she decided not to have treatment this time around if it did turn out to be cancer. I feel that that is what on Jean's mind more than anything, she's just got her daughter back after having lost Daniel and having to deal with her illness all on her own, and with the possibility of Stacey being thrown in jail again, Jean unfortunately faces having to deal with her illness all alone for a second time.

While on a cleaning job with Mo, I have to be honest - I have no idea who's house they're cleaning. To me, it looked like Gray's but I have no memory of them ever cleaning for Gray? Or was it the Mitchell's? Either way, Jean happens to mention that if she was to have a huge sum of money she would put all the money towards helping Stacey, which of course any Mum would do the same for their daughter. It's then that Jean happens to stumble upon a box of some kind left on the living room table, taking a sneaky looking inside she finds a huge sparkly necklace, who does it belong to? I'm not so sure. But Jean seems to think back to her words of getting money for her daughter, in a desperate state of mind, she quickly stuffs the necklace into her pocket.

Later on, as we see Jean leaving a pawn shop it's clear that she has sold the necklace she nicked. Will she end up in trouble for stealing a necklace and pawning it? Eventually she ends up bumping into Martin and Ruby on the Square. From a distance they seem to be smiling and giggling, this seems to be completely enrage Jean, she can simply not stand there and watch them laughing while they tear Stacey's life apart. She decides to confront them, mainly Ruby - claiming that now Ruby has everything she's wanted, she's willing to ruin Stacey's life. Even though it's sad and tragic that Ruby lost her baby, the worst thing she can do is blame her accident on someone else and throw false accusations around. Jean is more disappointed in Martin, would he really let the Mother of his children go to prison? Surely there must be some kind of doubt in his mind that Stacey would do something as horrendous as what Ruby is claiming?! Jean stands her ground, stating that she's not going to let things lie as they continue to ruin Stacey's life. As devastating as it seems, with Lacey Turner going on Maternity Leave, it's looking like Stacey will go to prison for something she didn't do!

--

Now the main focus of the episode is Mick! He and Linda have now fully moved back into the Vic. As much as they seem happy to be back where they belong, I guess there is a kind of sadness surrounding them that they don't have their children with them. They happen to mention Johnny and Nancy, am I right in thinking that they went away to visit their children and tell them face-to-face about their Dad's abuse?! They happen to mention Johnny and Nancy crying at the news about their Dad and how Lee will deal with the news in his own way. We know that Nancy is going to be returning to the Square some time soon, will knowing what's happened to her Dad be the main reason for her return?

As the locals begin to welcome back Linda and Mick to their pub, Rainie and Stuart seem to be on their own investigation. As they discuss how convenient it is for Max to leave and then they return to be back behind the pub, in Rainie's mind, something doesn't seem right. Almost like on a mission, she informs her husband to question Mick while she works her way on Linda as they fish for information. Only in their own comical ways, they seem to get nowhere with them. Suddenly a detective of some kind enters asking to speak to Mick in private, this seems to grab the attention of both Stuart and Rainie and they begin to ponder what could be going on.

As they continue their discussion privately upstairs, it's here that the detective reveals to Mick that Katy has been arrested for her crimes. As much as this is good news for Mick, he does also have concerns about Frankie and how her Mum's arrest might affect her. As he questions about the possible DNA sample they've had from them both, the detective reveals that their DNA test does match, hearing this confirmation completely overwhelms Mick, Frankie is his daughter! The next thing that the detective mentions though does concern him that little bit more, he suggests reaching out to more witnesses and possible more victims of Katy's crimes, to which Mick realises his story might become public. I think more than anything, Mick is more worried about going public as he fears people will see him differently, not as the local pub landlord, but as the man who was sexually abused as a child.

As the detective leaves Mick to his thoughts, Frankie makes a drastic entrance. She appears to be absolutely frantic that her Mum has been arrested in front of her, without any warning. Of course this would be terrifying for Frankie but the thing that upset her the most was that all the time she begged Mick not to report her Mum, but now her Mum has been arrested, she feels betrayed by him. Mick then decides to share the news to hear that their DNA test was a match, she is his daughter after all. This does give Frankie some kind of closure but in her mind, she's gained a Dad and now lost a Mum. Linda tries to console her husband's daughter, informing her that if she needs anywhere to stay then they have bedrooms to spare and she can stay with them, however this is followed by an awkward silence and Frankie can see that Mick maybe doesn't think it's a good idea, she decides to leave before anything else can be said between them.

As Mick chases his daughter down the stairs, unbeknown to them, Stuart happens to hear their conversation as he hides underneath the stairs. Mick apologises to Frankie for reporting her Mum but makes the valid point that she has to understand why he had to, what if there were other people she had done it to?! Stuart then realises what's going on. After being sent a link informing him about an arrest that has occurred regarding someone who he knew in care as a kid, he reveals to Rainie that he's figured out exactly what's happened. Knowing the full details now, he reveals to his wife that Mick has actually been the one who has been sexually abused. He recalls to his wife how he used to catch paedophiles, knowing that his best mate has gone through something like that, he needs to act now before it's too late.

Even though Rainie tells him it is not his battle, Stuart decides to call his brother and asking whether he can get a message to Frankie. The only thing is, what is this message going to be?! The one thing that is making me think is, is Stuart also a victim of Katy also but has never ever said anything? Is that the reason why he used track down attackers and bring them to justice? He even voices his concern that Mick's abuse happened over 20 years ago, without any evidence or proof or witnesses, Katy won't be charged with her crimes! Is Stuart actually going to come forward, informing Frankie that he too is one of her Mum's victims? What do you guys think? There are quite a few different ways this story could go and honestly, I'm really looking forward to seeing what's going to happen next!

Thank you all so much for reading, it really does mean the world and I can't thank you enough for your ongoing support! Please feel free to leave me a message or comment regarding anything currently happening in EastEnders, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thank you again everyone, enjoy the rest of your day and I'll be back very soon! xXx  

[theunvanquishedzims]

Calming my post-election anxiety with sweet sweet logic

So Trump is a wannabe dictator with crazy screaming fans who are headed toward violent armed meltdowns. What’s to stop him from going full dictator and refusing to leave office?

I’m glad you asked!

You see, the major difference between wannabe dictators and actual dictators is ALLIES. Dictators are surrounded with tight security, aided by the military, cheered on by media that they control, and are either helped, encouraged, or just ignored by other countries with the power to stop them.

Trump has charged the Secret Service money for the privilege of protecting him and his family since day one. You remember the first year, when his wife and son refused to move to the White House so the Secret Service had to RENT FLOORS in TRUMP’S BUILDING to be close to them? And how his extended family went globetrotting and the Secret Service had to accompany them? And when Trump himself insisted on hosting people at his golf club, he made the Secret Service RENT GOLF CARTS from TRUMP’S CLUB to follow him while he went golfing?

The end result was that halfway through the first year of his presidency, the Secret Service could not pay their own wages. Because half their yearly budget had gone straight to Trump’s pockets. And that’s just financially. I think we all remember how the White House came down with Covid and Trump still insisted on Secret Service agents driving him around to wave at people. He has not been kind to the people who are sworn to protect him. These people have had a front-row seat to his circus since 2016. When the time comes from Trump to leave the White House and Biden to take over, I doubt they’ll betray the country out of loyalty to Trump. If anything, they’ll be the ones to drag him out.

As for the military, Trump insulted and fired four generals from his administration staff. He said on multiple occasions that soldiers who get captured or killed are suckers and losers. He refused to visit a cemetery to honor the dead because it was raining. He tries to pander to the military by massive increases in defense spending, but that money goes to capitalists who make weapons and war technology, not the soldiers or veterans. (He also hypocritically accused military officials of being in bed with those same companies.) In a poll of 1000 service members 50% said they disliked Trump. Overall, he doesn’t act like a leader, and the way he skirts responsibility (like taking charge during the pandemic) doesn’t appeal to a group that functions on trust in their leadership.

A proper dictator would have spent the last four years cozying up to his generals and making sure they knew the financial and social benefits of answering to him personally, not the office of the President. And while Trump did adhere to the adage “find a foreign foe” to unite people against, he badly misjudged what most US citizens consider “foreign.” He hasn’t found a villain that we would root for the military taking down, and the people he targets (Latinx, Blacks, immigrants, and people in countries our military has already devastated) are not a minority he can turn the majority of the country against, especially with how many of the former two serve in the military themselves. When the time comes for him to leave office, the military might be the first to cut ties with the wannabe Dictator-in-Chief.

Now, the media. They’ve been treating him like a joke candidate since day one, but after he was actually elected and took office they’ve started to take him more seriously. He’s gotten his catchphrase “fake news!” to catch on, but that doesn’t change the fact that under his administration news reporters have been harassed, illegally arrested, and generally poorly treated by Trump, especially if they’re women. He’s trashed talked everyone, with Fox News being the last bastion of semi-legitimate news that openly supports him (and their credibility has taken a big hit over it.)

Despite this support, in recently months Trump has been increasingly dumping on Fox, even throwing the mediator they provided for the debate under the bus, and risking alienating them in the process. If his supporters listen to him and start considering Fox part of Big Fake News, it might possibly be the death of Fox, leaving most of his supporters adrift and isolated from their source of right-wing news, and sending the more extreme fringes into the arms of conspiracy theory websites. (I’m not saying this is bad, being cut off from Fox and its toxic stream of “information” can actually help rehabilitate the right.)

Honestly, I don’t think Trump ever had a shot at controlling the media like a dictator would, mainly because of social media. He’s in love with attention, and Twitter has provided him a nonstop stream of it. No other President has threatened, insulted, promoted, or hinted at war over social media the way Trump has, and he gets so much direct feedback and interaction with the public and the world as a result. He could have leveraged that by buying the company (through a shell corporation, obviously) and setting it up as The One True Source of Information, manipulating public perception of him and his administration by keeping a tight grip on what information he let out.

But he’s just. Not. That. Clever. He blurts out everything that crosses his mind, leaving his administration to play clean-up on his messes, put out fires he keeps pouring gasoline on, and claim he’s joking when everyone knows he’s testing the limits on what he can get away with saying. He took advantage of the direct communication with legions of supporters, but seemed to forget that his detractors had equal access and would absolutely call him out on things he definitely said, it’s right there on his Twitter account, they have the Tweet pulled up on their phone right now. Instead of operating a single state-run media outlet while crushing all free press and limiting internet access like other dictators, he’s mooned the world’s cameras and acted surprised when they put his saggy butt on tv. “Fake news! That’s not my butt! THIS is my butt! [image attached]” he tweets. “Twitter is so biased, they haven’t censored any of Sleepy Joe’s photos!” he later tweets.

And lastly. The key to a dictatorship’s success. To prevent outside intervention, the country a dictator runs must be unimportant and ignored, wealthy and well-connected, or scary and well-armed. Minor warlords are the former, Putin is the latter, Trump might have weaseled his way into being the middle. But at the end of the day, America’s whole thing is new leadership every four years. It was revolutionary to replace a lineage of kings and queens stretching generations with a non-royal elected leader who only held office for four to eight years, but we’ve stuck to that for 200 years and everyone’s used to it by now. It would take a charismatic and powerful person to move the American people towards abolishing such a basic tenant of our democracy, and despite the mob mentality that lead a small portion of his supporters to chant “sixteen more years!” in the heat of the moment, Trump is not that charismatic. He’s not that smart. He’s not that well-connected. He’s not that savvy. He’s not that good at politics. And he’s not that powerful.

(I was going to say something here about him being the laughingstock of the world’s leaders and shouldn’t expect any outsiders to help him stay in power, especially since his tax returns came out and showed he owes people a ton of money that he doesn’t have, but this post is long enough so let’s cut to the chase.)

Trump is a greedy, small-minded man that has clung to power by appealing to the worst in humanity and scraping away at the best. But he hasn’t succeeded. He’s a sad old man who will say anything to be loved, and I don’t think he even knows what love is, so he’ll settle for attention. He doesn’t have money, he doesn’t have an army, and the only allies he has are using him as a political pawn to further their own interests. They will cut him loose the minute he stops being useful.

Now, the bad part: crazy screaming fans. Fringe groups on the internet. Mobs chanting “sixteen more years!” Men with guns and bombs and kidnapping plots, men trying to get into voting centers to destroy the election, men driving trucks with black flags that say FUCK YOUR FEELINGS, TRUMP 2020 (available on Amazon for $11.99, I wish I was joking.) I have no idea how many people in this country genuinely love Trump. It is hopefully significantly less than voted for him. There are some big issues in this country that are make-or-break, and unfortunately by reason of running Republican Trump has aligned himself with some of them.

There are people who hate everything about Trump, but he put a pro-life judge on the Supreme Court so they’re voting for him. There are people who are uncomfortable with Trump, but they’ve forgiven their grandpa for saying worse at Thanksgiving dinner, so they’ll vote for him. There are people who don’t know a single thing about Donald Trump, but they see (Republican) next to his name on the ballot, so they vote for him. None of that means those people will side with him if he tries to make a move towards dictatorship.

Now there are people who love Trump. They’ve heard and seen the vile things he’s said and done, and are genuinely okay with it, because they are full of hate and rage and want to change the world to put themselves on top. I do not know how many of these people there are. I know they exist all over the country, not just in red states. I know some of them have guns and want a reason to use them, because they’ve been talking about it for decades. I don’t know if we can trust the police to side with us over them if fights start breaking out. (And I pray pray PRAY people de-escalate any fights, because monkey see monkey do, and one news report of a MAGA extremist shooting someone can inspire a hundred copycats can lead to full-on civil war like we've never seen.) I know we need to be careful the next few months, to take care of ourselves and watch out for the more vulnerable in our communities.

And above all, I know this: Trump is not going to keep this country. He got it through trickery and deceit and foreign influence and national indifference and people not taking him seriously. We’ve learned. We’ve grown. We’re taking him seriously now, and we will not let him take what we’ve already told him he can’t have. The election is over. He’s a loser. He’d better start packing his bags. Because he’s not staying in office.

[lotornomiko]

Triumph’s Tribulatons: The Completed Chapter five (Worksafe)

Finally...

For what had felt like an eternity all in its own, the high ranking Lords and Ladies of the Heavens have held session, resulting in tiresome and ultimately fruitless discussions that had ended with leaving both Gods and Goddesses frustrated, and still desperate for a solution. For a saving, that unavoidable problem before them looming ever closer with the group still too stubborn and perhaps too stupid, to embrace the only real answer. It left them shaken to their cores, made wretched and pathetic, and colored ever so frantic, from Freya to Eir, to Thor, and even Tyr, they now all suffered with their first real taste of fear.

That desperation and those panicked feelings, made for a good look on them, the fear there that had been tasted, leaving a certain raven haired trickster holding back a smirk, a near euphoric feeling blooming inside him to see the divine and the world they had so callously ruled over, made so down trodden and pathetic. They were left choking on such feelings, on even humility and its foul tasting bitterness. Such a brutal combination made for a devastating despair, wreaking particular havoc on a certain Goddess, the golden haired Aesir besides herself with a grief she refused to fully acknowledge, but it was shaping her all the same. Her every thought and action, Odin dead, and not even her haughty Vanir blood line could protect her from that truth for much longer.

Already enjoying the sight of Freya’s unraveling, Loki relished the thought of the Goddess on her knees, broken and shamed, groveling in a way that would do nothing save to serve HIS ego. There was a grudge there, an insult that had never been forgiven, Loki holding a particularly vicious dislike of the Goddess, given that for all of her humble beginnings as a Vanir hostage, Freya and her younger sister, Frei, had never even suffered a quarter of what Loki with his mixed blood line had. It didn’t much matter that both had been born of the enemy, for their blood was wholly pure, while Loki had existed as one half Aesir, and one half Vanir. A blight of an existence, one barely tolerated by Odin, and outright shunned by Surt. Loki hated all equally, from the two tribes of Gods, and the world that they had squabbled over, to that of the nine realms with all their many foolish souls who had so blindly put their faith and worship in such tyrants.

It was a hatred not only birthed, but constantly nurtured in resentments, its like strong enough as to be the root cause of Ragnarok one day, but it wasn’t a desire to rule Creation as they had all known it, that motivated Loki now. This world and all who had known it, could literally rot away for all he cared, and indeed it already was part way there, the Heavens and its eternal summer, now knowing the first stages of an early chill. The cold weather wreaked further havoc on the shining realm, the once vibrant scenery withering away almost faster than Yggdrasil itself could. The sight of that great tree bearing what was its final death throes was just another shade of glorious, Loki again fighting back a smile, even as the wind seemed to blow the frost through the very leather of his clothing.

This was nothing compared to Jotunheim and its world of eternal ice, yet the rate of decay would one day soon see Asgard surpass the Vanir’s realm, into something far WORSE. The universe itself in upheaval, the chaos was a vintage so delicious that Loki was almost drunk off of it, toasting Creation and its downfall, while secretly plotting to remake it into something that was all the trickster’s own. How glorious it would be, the loathed now king, ruler over everyone and their all. He just needed a few more pieces of his chessboard to fall into place, the divine treasures needed, as well as Odin’s power. That source of raw energy was that much closer to being in reach, Loki almost absolutely certain that God as they had known him, was now dead.

It left a void existing in the world, the divine throne needing a power strong enough to quell the chaotic energies that had run a muck. That Freya and the others couldn’t see pass Odin as the answer, showed how unfit any of them were to take up Creation’s mantle. A pity for them and a pity for all, existence soon to be molded by a hand that was no less cruel than Odin’s had once been. Loki’s lips nearly curled then, his expression mocking, as he thought on how he would become a bigger and a better tyrant than even God himself had been, with the four treasures to back him, that and Creation’s power flowing through him.

There was but one minor set back. That very power of Creation, its precise location unknown even to the Trickster, leaving Loki as desperate as the others, albeit for a different reason. All wanting that human’s head on a platter, not even the raven haired Loki knew just how to search for him. The one and only gateway to Lezard’s world, has been sealed shut, and it would take more than any single Gods’ power to get there. Though he hated to admit to it, he needed the others’ help, needed their power working together, in order for the desired pathway to be forged. It was an unfortunate fact, that few if any of the current pantheon of Gods could think to see a bigger picture beyond saving their own hides. They were desperate, and dangerous, clinging to both their power and what remained of their eternity. Many a lie would be needed, tricks and manipulation used to weave a deceit that would give enough false hope to those he required aid of.

It would take more time and effort than Loki had truthfully been prepared for, and he could only thank the lucky stars, that only the seven were required. That those seven were not only the most powerful of the Aesir and Vanir combined, but also the most disagreeable in nature, was a bit of a problem, Loki having made little to no headway in this particular scheme. It was no doubt thanks in part to Freya, the golden haired Goddess the one whose voice the others stood a chance of heeding the most. She was powerful, not just in physical and divine strength, but in opinion, and thus far, the most resistant to all of Loki’s lies and truth twisting he had tried. Tried and thus far failed to plant a potent enough seed that could seduce Freya into falling into his trap. She was too guarded for that, too invested in Odin and her flimsy grasp of love, to want to believe that the Lord God Creator could have suffered any truly unfavorable fate. She clung to hope, which was a laughable idea of a Goddess, of any of the divine, the woman actually harboring it, and what was worse, was how she got the others to do the same.

It was insane and it was maddening, the way they all cow towed to the Goddess, to Freya and to the memory of Odin, as though they were all too stupid to grasp the concept of someone else moving to supplant that tyrant, and take over as Creation’s Ruler. Loki angled to do both, to seize Odin’s everything, but to also manipulate the others with none too subtle suggestions that were meant to seduce them into considering a broader view. It had started with a simple truth, that had been carefully worded, as to hide the lie within it, the trickster having pointed out that A Creator WAS needed on the throne. It had been a careful twist, the raven haired halfling, never once insinuating by name that HE meant to be that new God.

He couldn’t wait. For all that power, for the reshaping of this wretched world, and to finally have his revenge in hand. Then they would all see, Loki proven as something more than just mere Trickster and half breed, but the one being in all Creation that was truly the perfect blend, all the good and the bad of both Aesir and Vanir in him, transforming the raven haired youth into the ultimate of Gods. He would put Odin to shame, would see them all humiliated and humbled and DEAD.  

It was a visceral reaction he had to that, to his revenge based desires, a smile toying at the corners of his lips. Loki had almost forgot to be on guard, out in the open as he was, on this island dais that had somehow managed to remain attached to Valhalla’s presence. Anyone could stumble upon and see him, anyone at all, and it was just his luck to feel a familiar warmth that was not wholly unwelcome ripple from behind him.

His eyes closed, his expression leveling out to be something a shade more serious and solemn before turning. The ripple grew in strength, little bursts of light sparking as reality itself seemed to split open. He heard the sound of her ether, the musical chimes that heralded the Goddess arrival. His eyes seemed to water from the effort to make out her figure amid the blurring of colors, Loki first focusing on a pair of long legs, clad in knee high brown boots. A bit of thigh was next seen, before being swallowed up by the short hem line of a very form fitting tunic. Elbow length gloves encased her arms, and the look was complete with a little brown cap that was edged in gold, like the rest of her. But she was no golden Goddess like her sister, Frei instead one to embrace the more earthen variations of her chosen colors.

She put on a brave smile, even as the unnatural wind caught at and lifted her braided hair. That burst of color was a brown that had a bit of dark red woven into it, Frei an auburn haired beauty, who looked ill prepared for the weather at hand. It shouldn’t have bothered her, given her Vanir blood, and yet she shivered all the same, the Goddess hugging arms around her as though that would lend an added warmth.

“It’s so cold!” She exclaimed, and Loki could only give a small nod back. “How can you stand to be out in this wind!?”

He gave an uncaring shrug of his shoulders, but offered no real explanation. How could he, when it was thoughts of his impending revenge achieved that was warming him from the inside out, Loki burning with that need. With the victory he was ready to seize. Hot with it, Loki could only make a half hearted attempt to pretend to be as cold as the young Goddess, watching out the corner of his eyes, as she seemed to dance in place.

“Frei, if you’re really that cold…” He began but she cut him off.

“I can’t bear it!” She exclaimed. “I have spent weeks scouring via the Water Mirror, and have come up with little to show for it! Nothing of our King, nothing of the one who has taken him, and nothing of Gungnir, or of the other three Divine Treasures!”

“So they still remain missing.” He mused while holding back his grin. For yet another one of his schemes was proving fruitful, the Divine Treasures lost to the Gods who searched so desperately for them. Of course they all suspected that Gungnir was in that new world for by Freya’s own account, she had seen the mage lay hands on it before taking off with Odin. But Levantine and the Sylvain Bow, and even the Dragon Orb, had all been lost, or so they all thought. He muffled his laugh into a sympathetic noise, thinking how two of the unaccounted three were already in his keep. The sword and the bow, and both would be needed to give Loki the added edge to take on that interloping human. Especially if all was as suspected, Loki assuming the man not only had the Divine Lance, but had also laid claim to Odin’s power.

Lezard Valeth would prove a fight, although not one that was wholly impossible given the right tools at hand. A human shouldn’t be cause for concern, but this one was no mere man, but a mage proficient enough in the forbidden magics to have beaten Odin. That earned him a respect, and gave Loki a reason to be wary, and that was before accounting the fact that Gungnir had accepted the Valeth human. Creation itself seemed to have, this Lezard wearing the power like he had been born into it, rather than had stolen it. It was almost admirable, the mage and his desires so powerful as to warp existence itself to suit him. In another life, they might have even been on the same side, if not for the fact Creation’s throne was only big enough for ONE.

Determined that that one would be Loki, the Trickster intended to go into that fight with the odds loaded in HIS favor. The demon sword Levantine, and the Sylvain Bow were just that, nice boosts to his power, but he’d feel even better once the Dragon Orb was found. With three of the four Divine Treasures, not even Gungnir would be able to withstand Loki for long. It would be an easy slaughter then, and with the power and the lance claimed, nothing would be able to stop him then. Not even the combined might of all the remaining Gods and their soldiers.

“Where could they be!?” Frei’s frustration interrupted Loki’s own private musing. “I’ve searched, and I’ve searched...as have so many of our einherjar.”

“Ah but I’ve heard tell not even the einherjar are immune to Midgard’s sickness.”

Frei gasped at that. “You don’t mean…?”

“That I do.” Loki gave a nod of his head. “Without a Valkyrie to guide them, the einherjar that tread on Midgard’s realm make easy prey for that weakness.”

“What are we to do then?” moaned Frei, putting fingers to her temple as though feeling a headache coming on. “How are we to get anything done!?”

Another shrug of his shoulders. “That I suppose depends on your sister.”

“On Freya?” Wide eyed was the look she gave him. “What do you mean? What can she do that she hasn’t already?”

Loki considered his words carefully, as he looked over the Goddess clad in those earthen colors. Frei had always been the closest thing to a friend that the Trickster has had, the young woman the only one among the divine pantheon, who truly took the time to try and do more than just tolerate the raven haired God. Hers was a kind nature, this young Vanir with her wide eyes that were normally filled with such hope and optimism. If there was one soul in all of existence that Loki did not harbor a grudge against, it might just be HER.

That she held some sort of esteem in his eyes, did not mean that the Trickster was any less inclined to use her if a need arose.  With a few twists of the truth, and some subtle manipulations, she could become a powerful tool to wield against her sister.

“She needs to come to terms with the truth that the world itself tries to show her.” He said at last.

“The truth?”

“Odin is DEAD.” Loki said to Frei’s startled gasp. Her eyes had widened in shock, the young Goddess shaking her head no in denial. “That Yggdrasil, nay that the entirety of his Creation rots, is proof solid of THAT.”

Frei had turned from him, turned from Valhalla, as though seeking out the withering corpse of the world tree for herself. The Goddess trembled as she stared at it while Loki all but whispered in her ear. “We need not die with it….with the tree, or with the memory, the hope that your sister clings to.”

He pretended to care, to gentle his words, a hand on her shoulder as though to lend the shaken woman his support. “Your sister LOVES Odin.” The trickster said. “She is in denial, and lets herself be blinded to the fact that we need A Creator on the throne. If not Odin, then the next best thing…”

“And that would be….?”

“Not what, but WHO.” Loki answered. “One of us must claim the power that had existed inside Odin. Thor, Tyr, even your sister, one of them surely has the strength to sustain the world with it.”

“If that were true, wouldn’t they have already…”

“You’d think that, and yet it hasn’t happened. And do you know why, Frei?” She shook her head no. “Freya.” stated Loki. “Hers is a most powerful voice, one the other Gods all listen to. So long as she so stubbornly clings to that foolhardy belief, none will truly argue otherwise. But you could change all that, Frei!”

“Me!?” The Goddess squeaked, turning so fast, her braided hair swung for the effort. “What can I possibly do!?”

“Talk to her! Reason with her!” Loki exclaimed, and it wasn’t all an act, that earnest fire in his eyes. “You are the only one she might listen to when it comes to this! The world itself depends on it, on you, Frei…”

He had taken hold of her hands in a gesture that mimicked one of Frei’s many familiar overtures. She glanced down at their joined hands, chewing on her bottom lip as though considering. “It’s worth a try…” She began hesitantly, giving an uncertain nod of her head.

“More than worth it.” Loki insisted. “If anything of Odin’s world is to survive…”

“Lord Odin’s world may not have always been a kind one, but there is merit in its existence. The people there, our friends and family, our home...they MUST be saved.” Frei’s choice of words almost made Loki sneer, for he had no real family, and could claim only one sort of friend. A friend he was actively lying to while smiling in her face, Frei oblivious to the trickster’s true intentions.

“Yes...they must.” He pretended to agree with her, all the while knowing she was in for a world of hurt when HIS reality slapped Frei in the face. “Odin may be nothing more than a memory now, but his legacy will live on IF we act...if Freya gives the call to save it.”

“She will…” Frei had started to sound more confident now. “I’ll see to it!”

Loki did not have to hide the grin that overtook him, his face alight with a smile that might be considered dazzling even to a Goddess. Another piece was soon to fall into place, Frei the push needed to get Freya to galvanize the Aesir into true action. He felt not a single shred of regret at the using he was doing, Frei too naive and gullible for this world, and much better suited in an entirely new existence. He’d offer her a chance, a place in HIS Creation, and perhaps if she felt something, some small kernel of true affection, the Goddess would have spared HIM the effort of KILLING her.

====

The marble of the floor had sealed itself together seamlessly, not so much as a sliver of a crack to betray the chaos that had gone on just moments ago. That or of the anger that had been felt, the world itself a living extension of what had been in its God’s heart. Such has been Lezard’s displeasure that in that moment, Creation itself had acted, moving to protect him and his interests, spiriting the frightened Goddess away to somewhere else safe. Safe from his rage, and safe from his desires, the man who had once been human,  having pushed too hard, too fast, too soon.

She wasn’t ready. He knew that, every bit from her fight to her flight had in fact acknowledged it, the fear that was in Lenneth’s heart. It had sent her running, the Goddess scared, not so much of what he might do to her physically as much as the emotional havoc he had been intent on wreaking. The truths that had needed to be confronted, and with it would come all of its pain, such sorrow born of those lies that the woman had told herself. She wouldn’t be spared its sting, not even God himself able to shelter Lenneth from the agony of breaking free of such warped delusions. The comfort it had once given her, was now nothing more than a crutch, one that that divine beauty needed to break free of if that heart of hers was going to stand a chance at any true solace.

It wouldn’t be easy, that fact something Lezard could acknowledge in his more rational moments. His beloved needed a far gentler hand than he had thus far been capable of, that near overpowering lust of his, making him impatient and clumsy whenever she was so near. So consumed with the want of her, his attempt at a controlled veneer had all but shattered when her fear had turned violent, Lenneth’s fist finding its mark against his jaw. It had left him so close to doing something unforgivable, illusions torn and discarded if not for his world acting instead. Protecting him as much as her, Lenneth swallowed up whole into an abyss that had opened up beneath her feet.

Even now she was still there, free falling in an endless darkness, that heart of hers in an absolute turmoil that would only be the start of her unraveling. There was both pain and pleasure in the idea of it, Lenneth this intoxicating brand of everything that Lezard could have ever wanted. Her heart, her soul, that of her mind and her body, her tears, her agony, and that of her happiness, the man wanted it all. He was obsessed with the having of it, of attaining paradise with so perfect a being. It was so close to a reality, that he could almost taste it, his blood stained hands reaching for it, for her, Lezard this newly remade being, the ultimate Lord of it all, Lenneth and the effect she has always had on him, the one thing this God could not control.

Even now he was tempted, sheer folly though it would be to go after her right now. Lenneth was too wild in the moment, too angry and afraid, tormented by a truth he had only merely hinted at, such insinuations holding the strength to make a Goddess reel in an absolute terror. It was a fear not just for herself, for what might be done to her, but that of her world, the paradise that she had created. That perfect utopia that was nothing more than a lie that her wounded soul had retreated into, every insinuation that Lezard could make had the power to tear that universe apart from the root, the very foundations it had been built and brought to life upon.

It was a world of desires, that perfect paradise grounded in a pain so blatant that it had nearly torn the Goddess apart. That heart of hers that had been so ripped to pieces by the sins committed against her, it had left Lenneth reeling in an agony even she herself had not understood, the Goddess so overwhelmed in the moment as to escape into a fantasy. An illusion, the deceits woven there all by her own hand, the ageless woman latching onto a figment, the fragment that had been dangling before her. Seizing upon it, with that earring in her hand, out of all the lives she had slept through, it had been the latest, that of a child, a girl no older than fourteen when she had died, that had helped feed into a delusion. In that moment she had been thinking not as a Goddess, but as a human, a child, torn apart by a loss that had been about more than just one man’s death.

The seal had been broken, a flood gate of emotions overtaking the Goddess. How much agony had it been, to remember them all, every last life that had hosted Lenneth inside them. The highs and the lows, their joys and their pains, hundreds upon hundreds of women, all helping to shape the Valkyrie’s humanity. Her compassionate heart, the depth of her millennia of experience far more than anything those scant fourteen years as Platina could have given. She was just a sliver of what had helped shaped the Goddess, so small and inferior a speck, the child was not who Lenneth was meant to be.

So much more than any one human girl, Lenneth was in fact a being so uniquely her own. A caring Goddess, one whose capacity to feel and sympathize with the mortals a threat that Odin and the other Gods could not abide by. They hadn’t killed her, they had done WORSE, the woman’s free will taken from her, her true sense of being SEALED away.

A safeguard meant to control that which the Gods could not understand, that human compassion that that particular Goddess had been gifted with, the likes of which had been cultivated and learned over the course of a millennia of different hosts. Through them she had loved, and Lenneth had cared, the woman so wholly unique in her ability to FEEL, the Goddess the champion that the mortals had needed. The Gods had feared it, feared Lenneth and the allegiance that such emotions had wrought, Odin needing the Valkyrie to be a good little soldier who fell into line with his own selfish wants. Unable to dominate her as she had truly been, that tyrannous God had tried to eradicate her spirit, that of her true self, through such archaic means, such a brutal manipulation of the self, such that Lenneth had been little more than a doll. A puppet, beautiful and perfect, and so wholly without the feelings that would have interfered with the Heavens’ schemes.

The Gods had seen her as nothing more than a Death Goddess, a chooser of the slain to bolster their own armies with the souls of dead heroes. They had let her pick from the brave as though they were mere flowers, calling into service warriors from all corners of Midgard. Leaving her exposed to the very thing that the Gods themselves had feared, the emotions that were so plentiful in the humans, putting cracks in the shield erected around Lenneth’s heart. Bit by bit, that ancient magic had been worn away, the seal itself eroded with each and every encounter, until it had finally shattered, and with it went Lenneth’s mind, the woman having snapped.

It must have been so, so overwhelming, to have been hit at once with all those feelings, with the many lives she had slept through, their hopes, their desires, all coming to life within Lenneth in startling clarity. Was it any wonder she had lost her true self in the process, spinning from one host to another, again and again, until she had latched onto the most recent, that of the child, those scant years of fourteen the most overwhelming dream of them all given how fresh it had still been.

Even grounded in that child’s psyche, it had proved too much. Lezard himself had born witness to it, to that mental break that the Goddess had had. The tears that had fallen, the screaming that had been done, it hadn’t been just the Goddess, but the child, Platina, made horrified by the one solace of her life, Lucian the only kindness and warmth she had ever known, LOST, killed in turn by his own refusal to let go of his own delusions.

It had all been such a mess, a tragedy the likes of which all else had fallen short. Her puppet strings not just severed, but left tangled across the board, Lenneth had been operating on a grief born madness, forgetting who she really was, to play fantasy for one ignorant human. For some fake facsimile of him, Lucian a shadow, his miraculous return to life nothing more than a figment born of Lenneth’s own desperation and desires. Instead of the warrior she had known, he was something new, a puppet who was nothing more than some idealized version of who she had thought him to be, Lucian just one of the many dolls whose every thought had been painstakingly crafted by Lenneth’s power.

Creation itself had been remade on desire, on such potent delusions and lies, the many souls there not the people they had once been. They were just shadows of those that had died, annihilated in the Ragnarok that Lucian had helped Loki bring about. It hadn’t just ended lives, it had wiped out everything, including that of nearly every living being’s soul from existence, such devastation a permanent end, the cycle of rebirth itself destroyed. Such finality was there to it, that no one, not even God, could fight against, the world and its people entirely eradicated.

It left the world in complete ruins, Lenneth’s land a paradise populated in lies. It was a copy, a mere imitation of what had once been, formulated out of fragmented glimpses, the memories she had gathered, the people there nothing more than a pathetic bunch of puppets. They were just these hollow husks of what she thought them to be, these seemingly ideal versions ultimately falling short, all an attempt that was unfulfilling when it came towards truly easing the pain in the Goddess’ heart. They were all lies that couldn’t make her truly happy, anymore than they could satisfy her needs. Each and every last one of them, Lenneth living in a farce, a waking dream that could crumble apart so easily given the right push. If enough care wasn’t given, the Goddess would crumble again with it, her psyche perhaps lost to yet another kind of fantasy.

Lezard couldn’t lie and claim that he hadn’t considered it. Hadn’t given thought to molding Lenneth into a fantasy that would suit HIM best. But ultimately, he didn’t want the illusion, that of those broken remnants of who the Goddess had once been. He wouldn’t be satisfied with just a sliver, wouldn’t embrace the farce of just one of her sides. He wanted her everything and her all, Lezard made mad with the desire, with that need. It fueled him, his obsession with Lenneth the motivating strength that had led Lezard into doing the impossible again and again. He had died for her, traveled through time for her, even become a God for her, such a warped semblance of love a catalyst that had no limits and no match. Not even Lucian could compete, that young man unable to see past Platina, and past the Valkyrie, to the supreme manifestation of the woman, a Goddess so sublime as to move a heart that had once been so unfeeling.

Her mark left on him, Lenneth had helped shaped Lezard into this mad man, so utterly devoted in the pursuit of her. Worlds had been ruined, people slaughtered, time itself run roughshod all over, yet his hands were no less dirty than any of the other Gods. Than even HERS, Lezard creating his own world, his own perfect paradise to ease the pain that was in HIS heart. That it spilled hurt onto others, was of no concern, Lezard an unfeeling God who had no desire to rule or be worshiped by anyone other than by Lenneth.

Such blasphemies should have been sins enough to weigh even God down, yet Lezard was instead made unburdened by it all, free of the demands the throne of Creation should have made of him. He was free, having discarded duty the way he had discarded bodies, nothing but time on his hand, and power, and harboring a patience that was fast running out.

====

There was a noticeable mood about her companions this day, an angry, oppressive energy that didn’t lend well to any attempts at talking, just about everyone in a foul state of mind, grudges harbored, even nurtured. Not even Alicia herself could lay claim to being entirely immune, her own feelings in a churning state of turmoil. That sad sort of furious, such things born of the hurt done her, and done HIM in turn, the princess unable to spare the man that she loved from being dealt such a pain.

Her eyes and her heart sought him out when Alicia thought no one was truly looking, Rufus with his brilliant hue of emerald colored hair, and clothing colored in lesser shades of green, gold, and brown. An intricately carved bow of a fine silver metal was at the ready in his strong and capable hands, with the large quiver of arrows that was strapped to his back, not yet exhausted entirely of its bearings. Those weapons aside, the half elf blended well into the colors of the forest, to the point he could have disappeared entirely and none would have been the wiser, not even much sound to betray him, especially with the archer in so subdued a mood.

Alicia bit back a frown, her sad survey of him such that she would have never missed the lack of mischievous sparkle to his green eyes. Or that of the flat line of disapproval his mouth shaped, Rufus bordering on hostile with every arrow fired off, be it monster or snarling animal that they faced. Gone was his good nature facade, the jokes and light attempts at conversation, the man so focused and serious. She couldn’t help but wonder just what thoughts went on his mind, to the hurt and loss of hope that she herself had dealt him, the guilt that sparked in her making her flinch and reel in place, but even stronger might be the frustration. The sad anger that was born of being put in such an unenviable position. Rufus was part at fault for that, for the effect that the princess’ decisions have had on him, but larger yet was the blame they both put on their companion, on Brahms’ broad shoulders, irrational or not such feelings might be. Alicia wasn’t even sure if such a grudge made sense, despite the fact that the Vampire King had held back the truth, the cure needed outweighed by that of the world fast running out of time. The slight chill in the air itself was proof positive of that, this change in weather wholly unnatural for this region’s time of year.

The increase in monsters that had been roaming the woods was another, that vast multiplication in numbers such that a rip in reality might be connecting Midgard directly to Hel’s Nifleheim, that foul netherworld emptying it’s bowels of every demon, fiend, and devil that it could. It made for pure chaos, the trek through this forest a gauntlet of death that a lesser being would have no real chance of surviving, Alicia could only be glad that the Lord of all of the undead, traveled with them on their side. He certainly made a difference, even in his disguise as a human, swinging that big blade around, cleaving apart many with one blow. Not even suppressing his preternatural strength could belie the magnificence of Brahms muscles, many a creature exploding in a shower of guts and gore and blood that Alicia couldn’t help but find glorious.

Her nostrils flared especially at the scent of that blood, such a gruesome display proving more and more mouthwatering with every day that passed. It left her disturbed but unable to deny that a part of her was giving in more and more to the curse inside her, the ghoul powder that was wreaking havoc on her system, making her more than she had been, more than human, more than girl. Not even the ring on her finger could keep the monster inside her at bay for much longer, every step forward that the princess took, taking her further and further away from the cure and her humanity, and by Alicia’s own choice no less.

Not that there had been much option to do otherwise. Not with the entire world needing saving, Silmeria, Lenneth, even Hrist, all three in danger and needed to offset the slow withering the realms were each doing down the path to ultimate destruction. No future would be found then, no chance at life, no chance of anything, Alicia unable to play at oblivious even to spend the world’s final days left as human and happy with the man that she loved. That Rufus could not seem to understand it, and even less accept it, was a sour point of contention between them and between the elf and the vampire, Alicia not blind to the hostile looks he shot Brahms whenever the archer thought that no one was looking.

Even now he seemed to brim with resentments, and more than once, Alicia had watched Rufus sight down his arrow at the Vampire King’s unguarded back. Once his fingers had even seemed to quiver, as though to let loose the projectile, only to at the last possible second, let the sharp tipped weapon slam into the body of a monster trying to prey on their fourth companion, the warrior berseker, Arngrim. The man had barely grunted his acknowledgment of that help, their muscled friend still angry about the disturbances to his attempts at sleep the night before.

It left Brahms the only one not simmering with resentments, though there was a tension inside him, perhaps born of the enormity of the task set before them. He let it translate to violence, to the way he easily tore apart and slaughtered so many of the foes that dare set upon them. Alicia couldn’t stop herself from admiring such a brutal display, anymore than she could control the wildness inside her that lent such effortless ease to her own bloody attempts at destruction. She wasn’t even trying to hide it, letting the curse in part take her over, hacking at limbs the way the princess wished she could her problems, a scream erupting forth from her that set many a creature fleeing.

“Alicia!” She heard the sharp sound of Rufus’ voice, but such concern came from such a distance as to not immediately touch upon her still human side. The princess was almost too caught up in the battle, to the blood lust that she was feeling, the struggle real as was the hunger, too much of that crimson gore around and on her, the young woman caught between want and disgust, the dual natures of herself warring, and even she wasn’t sure which was about to ultimately win out.

Suddenly there was a hand upon her, but it was not that of the archer who grabbed at her now. It wasn’t his hands, wasn’t Rufus’ strength that shook and supported her, Alicia made to spin around and face the vampire, the Undead Lord himself, as the face that he borrowed commanded nearly all of her attention. There was power in those eyes, a hypnotic order that helped to soothe the worst of the beast inside the princess. With that calming came embarrassment, Alicia’s cheeks coloring a bright pink as she realized both Rufus and Arngrim were staring shocked at her, made appalled by her behavior, by the wild abandonment expressed with such shades of brutality.

Alicia felt that moment of weakness hit her, her eyes welling up with tears born of shame, the young princess trying to stifle the sob of sound that escaped her. Only Brahms hand kept her upright, else the woman would have crumpled to her knees, such despair overtaking her, the humanity that Alicia was losing that much closer to being gone, and she could not focus to mourn it, not with the horrified look she still saw shining in Rufus’ concerned eyes.

Brahms wasn’t saying much of anything, as if even the Undead King could not find the right words. Maybe no one could, in a world made this mad and desperate by decay. The humanity that Alicia was losing, was needed less and less for the trials ahead of them, and the Vampire Lord might even think that it better she hurry the transformation along, but he was also trying to be kind and not outright suggest she abandon all pretense at a fight against what was happening inside her. She had thought herself accepting, ready for such an inevitable fate, but there was that part of her that still clung to her hopes and her humanity, and had been made desperate in response to the look of revulsion that the half elf had worn and failed to stifle. It left Alicia such an odd mix of contradictions, that selfless part of her that was willing to sacrifice so much to save the world pitted against this selfish spark that had been born in the face of the disgust witnessed on Rufus’ face. The princess didn’t want him to loathe and to hate her, couldn’t bear so much as the thought of the monster she would one day become losing the warmth of the archer’s love.

“H...how…” A shaky exhale, the half formed question dying on her lips, Alicia downcast and trodden.

“Control is the key.” Came the answer to the question she hadn’t been able to ask in full. “The fastest way to hasten your downfall is to lose it. The more you give in to the beast inside, the quicker the ghoul powder will take hold and wreak havoc.”

Alicia shook to hear that, but couldn’t bring herself to lift her head, not even to stare up at the vampire. She couldn’t understand why he would tell her this, why Brahms would take any measure to help slow down and delay the transformation her body was attempting. Not when it would benefit him, the world, and Silmeria MORE to have that powerful ally at his side.

“Oh sure…” Came the sound of Rufus’ voice, laced with such open anger. “Now all of a sudden you are full advice and cures, when it is far too late for them!”

Alicia immediately wanted to look his way, but the cowardly part of her balked at the thought of chancing upon the still repulsed look in his green gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell her any of this sooner!?” The half elf continued. “Why NOW, save to satisfy your own sick amusement at watching her suffer!”

Still staring at the ground at their feet, Alicia felt the bristle the energy within the vampire did, but Brahms was otherwise without response. Did he have none to give, or did he not feel the need to dignify the archer’s accusations with words?

“What else do you hide from her? What other horrors and secrets do you keep from us!?”

“Now is probably not the time…” Came the words of the warrior, of Arngrim. He was all but ignored, Rufus snarling a loud shout at Brahms, demanding the vampire answer him. His voice almost drowned out the roar, that hiss that was followed by a great, big serpent slithering out from the brush, tongue flicking and venomous fangs flashing, its cold, dead eyes locked on and looking to make a meal out of one or more of them.

“Stay on guard!” Brahms broke his silence to advise them. “That one can down a mastodon dead with a single bite.”

“There’s no end to this nightmare, is there!?” Alicia heard Rufus mutter. He had already had an arrow notched and loaded into place, angling backwards, as he tried to get a clear and perfect shot.

“Not a one!” agreed Arngrim, his broad blade in hand. Brahms was also drawing his, having let go of Alicia, so as to stand ready for the battle that now faced them.

Alicia swayed uncertain on her feet for a split second, before steadying and picking up her own briefly discarded sword. In this moment, there was no choice but to fight, the question of who...of what she would ultimately become, put aside for the moment, as each lost themselves to the lust of battle.

=====

To Be Continued...

What a journey and struggle it was to get this chapter written. I think I first attempted it a year ago, and it was a Rufus POV, but once again the elf was messing me up. I seem to always have him trying to derail me, and not always for the better. Basically not only was he going to have a talk with Brahms that was way too early for the fic, but I realized I was rushing what was happening to Midgard way too fast against the pace of what was happening in other realms, especially Asgard and Lezard’s world. I had originally intended this chapter to open up with a Rufus POV...and got several pages written, but it was wrong for this point and time. Brahms and Rufus do need to have that talk, but I need to set up better why they would have the kind of talk they will end up having...I hope I can somehow salvage some of the initial attempt to use MUCH LATER in the fic.

But yeah, I was stuck for so long on the Midgard crew. Been going through some stuff in real life, especially health wise, and over a month ago, I got real inspired, and wrote the Loki Frei scene….I am trying to make each chapter have three scenes...and when I first tried to write the second scene immediately after the Loki POV...which now that I think about it, also went through at least one trashing….cause the initial attempt got stupid, and had Ull in it too...

Anyway, once the Loki Frei scene was done, I immediately moved on to what was attempted about three times, as a Lenneth scene. Only it was also suffering a pacing problem, meaning she was having thoughts and revelations she shouldn’t have been having this fast this soon...so I had to trash it, and ultimately it worked as doing a Lezard narrative instead. Also before writing the first two halves, I finished watching the scenes of the game’s A ending, including stuff leading up to it, so it strongly influenced me with the trashed Lenneth scenes, and then with some of the Lezard narratives. It had been a few years since I seen those game scenes, so they were very inspiring, and I even wrote down some lines, specifically stuff Platina was saying to Lenneth, that I hope to maybe get to work in somehow. Watching the game canon again after so long, strongly left me with the opinion she suffered a big mental break down when the seal finally broke.

So then for the final scene of the fifth chapter...I was just real stuck. I could not get a Rufus POV written, but then I just felt so stuck on the scene in general. I was desperate, that I would take whoever I could to be the narrating voice for it. I did not want to post five with just two scenes, no matter how frustrated and at times tempted I got...Right now I don’t know if I am gonna waste a chapter on a serpent boss battle scene. Think the next scene with the Midgard crew, will be well after the battle is over. I want to get them out of the forest and to a human settlement, so I can touch more on the Midgard sickness I’ve made mention of, the one that not even the einherjar are proving immune to!

Honestly I don’t even know how I got an attempt at the final scene for this chapter written….I hope it proves interesting at least...Not sure when six will be ready. Kinda been battling OSVP urges, but didn’t want to start down that fic’s path, until I had chapter five of TT completed. I am the type that once I am in the middle of writing a chapter, I HATE leaving said chapter to go work on writing another one. I am rather obsessive compulsive in that…

Later!

---Michelle

[manage-mischief]

Regulus Black and the Darkest Shadows: Chapter 10

Read on AO3 or FF.net

Author’s Note: Gah sorry I’m late! This week has been crazy! Thanks, as always, for your support/comments/favorites/kudos! Y’all are the best. Enjoy the new chapter! And, as per usual, thanks to my fabulous beta reader @leahstypewriter. Follow @manage-mischief on Tumblr for more excerpts/requests!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

December 25th, 1978

Narcissa sat across the table from Regulus, her hands folded daintily in front of her. She regarded him curiously, studying his features. Regulus had no idea what to say. He knew why she had wanted to talk to him. But he wasn’t going to be the first to admit it. He tried is best to look naïve and innocent.

“Lucius told me,” Narcissa finally whispered.

“Told you what?”

“Don’t do that, Regulus. Don’t pretend.” She looked genuinely concerned.

“Alright. So, Lucius told you. What do you want from me?” He answered coldly.

“Merlin, Reg!” Narcissa scolded, “Don’t treat me like I’m one of your Death Eater friends! I’m not here to hurt you. I want to help.”

“They’re not my friends,” Regulus whispered.

“What?”  

“They’re not my friends. Not anymore,” he said, this time more boldly.

Narcissa stared at him like he was a wounded animal. “Oh Reg. Oh no.”

“Stop. I don’t need your pity or disapproval. You don’t…you don’t understand! I made mistakes, based on the lies our family has taught us! Now, I’m trying to make it right! You don’t understand what they want to do. What types of things they would have me do. You can ask your husband all about it!” Regulus snapped.

Narcissa winced from the obvious insult. “Lucius has…mentioned things. But Regulus, I’m not here to try and stop you. I’m not your mother. I’m here to warn you,” she said urgently.  

“Warn me about what?”

“That night,” Narcissa explained, “Lucius didn’t go to the Dark Lord. He Apparated home. He told me what he saw. You and that Ravenclaw Muggleborn—or girl raised by Muggles, I don’t know. But he saw you and her protecting her Muggle family. You fought against the Death Eaters, despite the fact that you are supposed to be one yourself.” She gestured to his left arm. He remained absolutely still. Her intensity scared him. Regulus had never seen Narcissa like this before.

“Regulus, Lucius told me that you betrayed him. And worse, you betrayed the Dark Lord. Now, I don’t pretend to condone all of his methods, nor do I claim to be innocent. I have my reservations, like you, but also like you, don’t dare speak of them to my loved ones. I doubt that I’ll ever fully join myself. However, whatever knowledge I have or don’t have in regards to the Dark Lord, I know that you don’t betray He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and live to tell the tale. Worse, you don’t betray the family and get away with it,” his cousin hissed.

“For Merlin’s sake, Cissa. Mum and Dad would never kill me!”

“But you’d be as good as dead,” Narcissa said, solemnly. “You know how it is. When was the last time you spoke to Sirius? And me…I haven’t so much as seen Andromeda in years. She…she was my best friend, Regulus. And I’ve heard she has a daughter now and I’ve never even met her!” Narcissa’s voice broke, speaking about her disgraced sister. “My point is, you’re playing with fire. If you think your parents would protect you from You-Know-Who and risk their own reputation with one of the most powerful dark wizards the world has ever seen… you’re deluding yourself.”  

Regulus’s heart raced. His head spun. He had known he was in danger, but Narcissa’s words made it more real, more tangible. There was a good chance that this Christmas could be his last. “So,” Regulus swallowed. “You’ve come to warn me. When will it happen? When is he coming?”

“He isn’t.”

Regulus’s jaw dropped. The Dark Lord wasn’t coming to kill him?

Narcissa exhaled. “Lucius told me about your rendezvous in the woods before he said anything to the Dark Lord. He knew how devastated I would be if I lost another one of my family members in this battle of ideals.”

Regulus was shocked. Lucius had protected him? He would have never dreamed… “But…what about the others? Macnair and the Carrows? Didn’t they…?”

“No,” his cousin replied firmly, “They have been dealt with.”

“Dealt with?”

Narcissa placed her head in her hands. “I begged Lucius to save you. He promised me he wouldn’t tell The Dark Lord, but he told me there were others who saw. So, we went to Azkaban and…” Her voice shook.

“And what, Cissa?”

“The Imperius Curse,” she whispered. “I used it on a guard. And I used the guard to Obliviate Macnair and the Carrows.”

Regulus paled. He looked across the table at his cousin, who was eerily calm. And Unforgivable Curse? His cousin had used an Unforgivable Curse for him? Regulus felt awful. Selfish, childish, and absolutely awful. Here he was, gambling away his life and he didn’t care one bit about that—but he never wanted innocent lives to be placed on the betting table. “Cissa…” he tried to comfort her.

“Don’t, Regulus. I would do it a million times over if it meant that you and the family would be safe. I’m not looking for pity. I’m a big girl, I can make my own choices. But please, please, whatever you do, be careful. I can’t ask Lucius to put his own life on the line by lying for you again. Please. Think about what you’re doing. Think about the family!” Narcissa was shouting, now.

“I am thinking about the family, Narcissa! I’m thinking about how I don’t want my only legacy to be death and pain and purity. I’m thinking about all this family has wanted me to do, and how long I’ve obeyed. I promise I will be more careful. But, I can’t promise you that I will go back to the way things were. For me, that would be a fate worse than death!” He shouted back, keeping his eyes glued to hers. The cousins were now standing inches from each other. Narcissa suddenly pulled him into a hard embrace. He returned the gesture.

“My Mum was right, Reg,” she whispered sadly into his chest. “You’re all grown up.”

---

Christmas and New Year’s had come and gone. Regulus had never been more eager to return to Hogwarts. He had instructed his new friends not to write to him, lest the letters be stolen and someone discover his treachery. Owl Post was so often intercepted, these days. He especially missed Des, whom he had thought about very frequently ever since their encounter at the hospital wing. When Bellatrix had asked him if there were any interesting women in his life, he’d immediately said no. However, in the back of his mind, he thought of Des. Regulus had begun to realize that his feelings for her may have evolved beyond the strictly platonic. He’d mostly brushed the thoughts aside. There had been way too much going on as of late. But now, with no school, friends, or Death Eaters to occupy his time, he began to imagine what it would be like to kiss her, to hold her, to feel her body pressed up against his own. Warmth filled his chest whenever he thought of her infectious laugh, her biting wit, or even her dramatic outbursts. She was like gravity for his thoughts. She pulled his thoughts towards her forcefully and was almost impossible to resist. He chided himself each time his mind wandered; this was not the time to be fixating on a schoolboy crush. Yet, Regulus continued to think about her.

One lazy afternoon, Regulus was reading a book in his room. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see light flurries of snow gently falling outside his large bedroom windows, coating the city in the white dust. He set down his book to watch, his eyes drooping as he followed the flakes’ movements. Suddenly, he heard a small scuffle downstairs. Curious, Regulus got up and crept down the steps, past the horrifying wall of House Elf heads, to see what was going on. His nerves were on high alert as he heard something—someone, breathing in the living room. His parents were not set to be home for a few more hours, and his mother had taken Kreacher with her...Who was here? Placing a hand on his wand, which was securely placed in his back pocket, he jumped through the threshold of the door into the living room to catch the intruder.

“Des?” Regulus was shocked to find his friend lounging on his downstairs couch in broad daylight. He felt his heart flutter in his chest. She looked at ease and utterly gorgeous. “How–wh-what are you doing here?”

Des’s eyes glinted mischievously. She stood up, painstakingly slowly, and walked to Regulus. Her hips swung seductively with each step. Her tight top hugged her waist, exposing the smooth skin of her stomach. Regulus swallowed hard. If his parents found her here...with him...

“We should be careful,” he managed to choke out, just as Des reached him. She stood before him, hands on hips, as if she was waiting for something.

“Well?” Des asked in a casual, expectant voice. She cocked an eyebrow and smirked, running the tip of her tongue over her soft, pale pink lips.

Regulus rushed forward to close the space between them, crashing his lips into hers. The moment he kissed her, all of his confusion faded away. She tasted better than anything he’d ever known. It was like quidditch and laughter and Honeydukes’s best chocolate, all wrapped up in the package of her lips. She breathed into him, her lips parting as he slid his tongue deeper into her mouth. Regulus felt his breath hitch as she wrapped her arms behind his neck.

His body followed his desires. He slid his hands down her back, relishing in her curves as he reached his target. Regulus lifted her with ease, and she responded by wrapping her legs around his waist. She was close. So close. Her thighs squeezed around him, providing a pleasant pressure. Des rocked into him, her moaning muffled by Regulus’s mouth on hers. How was this happening?

Regulus held her tighter and made for the couch, placing her down on the plush pillows. She released his neck and brought her hands above her own head, squirming with delight as he trailed kisses down her chest. Regulus groaned gutturally. He wanted her. “Are you ready?” He whispered in a low, throaty voice. Des opened her mouth, prepared to respond to his urgent plea.

But, instead of speaking, an odd, metallic clanging emerged from her throat. Regulus jumped up, frightened. “What the?” Suddenly, he felt a jolt of pain in his side.

Regulus opened his eyes. He was sprawled on the living room floor, next to the couch where he’d just been dreaming of Des not a moment earlier. He groaned, this time in frustration. Well, if he had any doubts about his feelings for Des before, they had definitely been resolved now. The odd, metallic clanking continued. The doorbell.

The doorbell turned into a light knocking on the door. As soon as the knuckles hit the wood, his Dark Mark began to burn furiously. Regulus bit his cheek to keep from crying out. Whoever this was--and Regulus was sure he knew--was not going to leave that easily. Fearful, Regulus tread down the hallway to answer the door. When he peered through the keyhole, his worst fears were confirmed. The Dark Lord was standing on his doorstep.

Regulus thanked Merlin he remembered the Occlumency lessons Snape had given him last year. He took a deep breath, closed off his mind as best he could (although he was still unsure if this would be enough to stop Voldemort from viewing his thoughts) and opened the door to his former master. He’d have to get very good at lying very quickly. His mind went into autopilot, ignoring the adrenaline coursing through his veins. This was life or death.

Voldemort smiled—which made his snake-like face look more terrifying than if he were frowning—and glided in. “You know, Regulus,” he spoke in a high, cold voice, “I don’t often come into London to make personal calls. Consider this an honor.” He paused and glanced at the younger boy.

Regulus realized Voldemort was waiting for him to bow. Shakily, he bent, his eyes fixed on the dusty carpet beneath his feat. “Please, have a seat. To what do I owe this honor, my Lord?” Had Lucius lied to Narcissa? Had the Dark Lord found out about the night on the Hogsmeade Trail?

Voldemort sat gracefully in an ornate, high back chair. He treated it like a throne, grasping the armrests with his long, white fingers. “I haven’t seen my youngest recruit in so long, dear boy! I thought it polite to check in. That is, after all, why I knocked on the front door.” His malicious smile stretched wider across his pale face.

“Th-Thank you, my Lord.” Oh, how Regulus wished his parents had been home. He couldn’t stand the intensity of Voldemort’s red eyes on his face, the cold air that seemed to envelop him like a cloak.

“You are quite welcome. And also, quite wise to believe that I am not merely here for pleasantries, Regulus. I have a favor to ask of you.”

Regulus dug his fingernails into his palm, using all of his willpower to keep his voice steady and his mind closed. “Of…of course my Lord. Though, I am young, and could hardly hope to accomplish as much as some of my more experienced compatriots.”

“Oh, do not worry. This is a simple favor. Barely even requires a thought.” Voldemort folded his hands as he regarded the wizard in front of him.

“You know, dear Regulus, you remind me a lot of myself, when I was young.” He waited, as if he expected Regulus to say something. However, Regulus could barely process the swords, let alone respond to them.

Voldemort’s smile faded a bit. “I know you were about to argue that you could never, not even in your wildest dreams, hope to achieve what I have. And you would be right, of course. However, your spirit, it…impresses me. You are descended from greatness, as I was—you are aware that I am descended from Salazar Slytherin himself, of course. You are a handsome, talented young boy, who has a bright future ahead of him. Yet, you see beyond.  You understand there are greater things in life than success. You strive for greater principles than money and prestige.”

Internally, Regulus laughed. Greater principles. If he only knew. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“And so, this is why I come to you, today. You have reached a higher stage of moral reasoning at 17 years old than most adults will in their lifetime.”

“What exactly is it you require of me, my Lord?” Regulus asked, hoping to end this conversation as soon as possible. Though he had decent skills as an Occlumens, he had never been as good as Severus, and could feel his thoughts struggling against the vice within which he had trapped them.

“I am in need of a house elf.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. That was all? He needed his house elf? “Of-Of course my Lord. Will you be requiring Kreacher’s services now?”

“No, no, not today. I am afraid it is too late to make the journey today,” Voldemort mused. “Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow will do. I shall pick him up tomorrow, and he will help me perform the…errand, I require.”

Regulus sighed in relief. “Very well, my Lord. Tomorrow, then. Kreacher is a good elf, sir,” He added, putting in a good word for the elf whom he cared for.

“I don’t doubt it. Thank you for your time, young Mister Black. I shall be seeing you soon, my boy.” There was a crack, and Voldemort was gone. Regulus collapsed back into his chair, almost giddy at the fact that he had managed to hide his betrayal from Voldemort. If he ever saw Severus again, he would thank him a million times over for the Occlumency lessons. Still relieved, knowing that he himself was not asked to perform any tasks for Voldemort, he cheerfully summoned Kreacher.

“Yes, Master Regulus?” the elf popped into the room as soon as his name was called.

“Kreacher, I have a very important job for you. And remember, it’s just Regulus.” Regulus smiled at the elf.

“Kreacher would be honored to perform any such task that Ma-…Regulus…deems important.”

“The Dark Lord requires a house elf to run an errand with him. He will come for you tomorrow and take you for the day. Do what he says, and then come back home? Alright?”

“Yes, of course, Regulus!” His huge eyes gleamed. “Is that all?” Kreacher asked. Regulus nodded and watched as Kreacher happily sauntered out of the room.

Regulus climbed the stairs up to his own bedroom, wanting to finish his book. His heart was still beating faster than a hummingbird’s as he lounged on the mattress. He smiled as he read. He had escaped wrath from the forest battle, he had survived an encounter with Voldemort. Perhaps, he thought to himself, life was looking up.

[hyena-frog]

Hey I’m sure you’ve been asked before but what’s your opinion on the audiobooks of Red Rising? Personally I think Tim Gerard Reynolds’ narration as Darrow is what elevated the series to being my absolute favorite. As for the other narrators in IG and DA, Ephrim’s narrator really grew on me and I’m so sad Ephrim is gone. I’m glad Lyria got recast in Dark Age. I skip her chapters when I re-listen to IG. I think Lysander’s first narrator was much better. His new voice sounds 40 but he’s only 20

Sorry it took me so long to answer this! Fun fact, but you actually sent this around the same time I decided to re-read Iron Gold (via the audiobook) to help flesh out a theory post I’m drafting. So I didn’t want to answer until I’d gotten a taste of each narrator. That’s some A+ psychic premonition on your part.

Unfortunately, I’ve yet to finish the IG audiobook because of Real Life but I’ve at least heard all of the narrators, so even if I’m still not very far in, I’ll give my opinions on them.

So, confession time, Dark Age is the first Red Rising audiobook I have ever listened to, even though I've heard good things about the RR audiobooks in general. Audiobooks aren’t really my thing. But I was taking too long to read that monster of a book, so I figured listening and reading at the same time would help me finish it faster. And boy, did it!

Now, Iron Gold is the second audiobook I’m listening to... I’m going about this all backwards, it seems. So, I’m going to give my opinions on the narrators in the order I experienced them.

Dark Age —

Tim Gerard Reynolds:

The GOAT. I’ve only heard good things about his narration, including from Pierce Brown himself at both signings I’ve been to. Now that I’ve experienced it for myself, I have to agree! I’m definitely going to need to listen to the original trilogy audiobooks at some point to get more of this guy.

He made you feel every ounce of exhaustion Dark Age Darrow felt, especially in Part I, and during the finale. His rare moments of levity (Sevro’s Palace) were delivered impeccably. His character voices were enjoyable; his Rhonna was great and his Atalantia gave me the creeps. Any moment Darrow thought of Virginia made me feel the full gamut of emotions. Anytime he summoned his righteous anger and went into Reaper mode, Reynolds sucked you in with the drama of it all.

Darrow’s always been my favorite but hearing Reynold’s interpretation of Darrow’s inner narrative really elevated why he’s a fantastic character. This guy is great.

John Curless:

Honestly? If Reynolds weren’t in the picture, he’d be my #1. Calling him my second favorite narrator doesn’t do him justice. His Ephraim injected much needed comedy into this narrative. Curless balanced Ephraim’s other nuances very well too. His deep psychological issues, his continued grief over Trigg, his budding love for the kids. It was beautifully executed.

One chapter that still haunts me is when Pax forces him off the Z cold turkey. Curless nailed Ephraim going into withdrawal. He was frightening and it was great. I also loved his reunion with Volga, even if his Volga voice was jarring to me after hearing Moira Quirk’s interpretation for most of the book. On that note, his generic Obsidian accent (Scandinavian-ish) never became too annoying and he differentiated the main players pretty well (namely Ozgard and Sefi). I really liked his Sefi voice. Quiet and whispery, very Sefi.

Don’t talk to me about Ephraim’s fate, I’m still in pain. 😭 I actually liked IG Ephraim a lot, not as a person but I thought his story was interesting. But his DA development was incredible. He really grew on me, and the fact he won’t be back, meaning Curless’ amazing narration won’t be back, is devastating.

James Langdon:

I didn’t mind his Lysander too much. I mean, I hate Lysander, but I thought he did a decent job portraying him. Maybe it’s just because he was my first Lysander voice. Although, I do agree he sounds too old for the role, but then again, Reynolds sounds too old for Red Rising Darrow (16) so? -shrug-

My main complaint with this guy is that sometimes, during the height of the action, he sounds as detached as a BBC newscaster. Which is fine, when Lysander uses the Mind’s Eye, but even when he’s full on panicking, this guy sounds so levelheaded.

His character voices are... ok. The growly voice he puts on for Ajax, and little bit for Cicero, is a bit weird. His Atalantia is sensual and creepy af and I loved his Atlas voice. One chapter that stands out to me is Kalindora’s confession toward the end. Langdon blew me out of the water with that one. Kalindora was never my favorite, but he made me really feel for her in that scene.

Moira Quirk:

I love her. I think she’s great. She has a very strong voice that pulls you along the story with ease. I think Lyria has the best DA story line and Quirk’s narration only made it better. She embodied Lyria’s temperament wonderfully; the anger, the kindness, and the stubborn resolve to keep living after initially giving up.

I keep harping on about character voices but they’re important, alright? Quirk’s character voices are some of the best. Her Victra is high and mighty and I felt Lyria’s annoyance along with her. But she also did Victra’s vulnerable moments wonderfully. I LOVE Quirk’s Volga. She’s so cute! Her accent reminds me of Sypha Belnades from the Netflix Castlevania series, which is not at all correct regionally, but it’s so adorable that it is officially The Volga Voice in my mind.

Not much else to say on this one, except, I hope the next book keeps this Lyria or I will be so sad.

Rendah Heywood:

Hail Sovereign! Another amazing narrator. At first I wasn’t sure what to think because I didn’t have any headcanon for what Virginia’s voice sounds like, but Heywood’s narration quickly convinced me this is The Virginia Voice. Very classy, very calm, could kill you but chooses not to, so don’t push her, understood?

She really gets across Virgnia’s main frustration of being smarter than everyone and being right like 99.9% of the time but rarely being listened to, VERY well, without making her seem unnecessarily whiny or something. It’s just a fact that she’s smarter than everyone else and the worlds would be better place if you took her advice.

Virgnia’s always been a bit of a mystery but Heywood really makes her into a Real Person, you know? Her fun interactions with Holiday and Theodora, her devastation after the Senate upheaval, her drive to escape from her captors... Expertly portrayed.

Her character voices are pretty good. I thought her Sevro was hilarious. I’m already missing her voice in IG (since I’m reading these backwards). I’m really looking forward to her return in the next book... Virginia will still be a POV character in the next one, right Pierce? Right??

Iron Gold —

Tim Gerard Reynolds:

I’m repeating this guy only to say: Reynolds is making sure I feel every molecule of exhaustion in Darrow’s body and I’m not very far in. I’ve already read IG, and I’m just coming off DA, so I know it won’t let up but still... have mercy on me.

John Curless:

Repeating again to say, goddamn, does this guy nail Ephraim’s development between books really well. IG Ephraim is no fun at all. Barely cracked a joke yet and is still very much wallowing in grief... Curless’ narration really makes IG Ephraim bearable, tbh.

Julian Elfer:

Hmmm. I don’t know if I’d agree he’s better than James Langdon. They’re both ok to me. Elfer is certainly more age appropriate. However, he’s a bit monotone and his reading cadence is a little annoying to me. He sounds like someone reading his own writing at a book club more than a professional narrator. I don’t mean that as an insult! He’s pleasant enough to listen to but he’s not on the same level as the others imo.

Idk. I’m still not very far into the IG audiobook, so it’s not fair to compare him to Langdon without the full picture. Maybe he gets better. However so far both Lysander narrators are. OK. That said, I don’t think Elfer is atrocious enough to warrant a re-cast? I heard people complained about him and Lyria’s IG narrator and that’s why they were changed... but Elfer isn’t terrible so I’m confused on that one.

Aedin Moloney:

Oh dear. I hate to be so blunt but... I hate her narration. A lot. Coming off of Quirk’s incredible Lyria, Moloney’s performance is... jarring, to say the least. She doesn’t give Lyria the same spunk that Quirk does. Moloney’s Lyria is too out of character for me. Lyria’s life is a shitshow and her weirdly whimsical voice is way too out of place. And during the more frenetic scenes, she’s way over the top.

I guess the problem with this narrator is she gives Lyria Too Much. Lyria is a very practical, very down-to-earth person, not prone to expressing a lot of deep emotion. Quirk balanced this very well, making her inner narrative just emotional enough without contradicting her outer expression. Meanwhile, I can barely follow along with what Moloney was saying when Tiran got shot because she was So Distressed and Hysterical. Good thing I had the book open.

Again, I’m not very far in, so maybe she gets better... idk. Take my opinions on Elfer and Moloney with a grain of salt because I haven’t finished IG yet.

Thank you for the ask! I’d love to hear opinions from anyone else on the second trilogy narrators (because I think we all agree Reynolds is great).

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Training, Day 2

The best way I can explain this is that this is a separate branch off of Damage. Damage is like the main branch on a tree, and this series, Devastated, is like one of the smaller branches coming off of the tree (that’s why I tag it with The Damage Tree). So it’s not canon to Damage, but it’s still a Thing.

Trigger Warnings: dehumanization, pet whump, creepy! whumper, waterboarding, and just like... general uncomfy vibes associated with the aforementioned warnings. If that sounds like it would bother you, please don’t read!

1915 words

Kai woke up in the dog house. He pulled at the chain around his ankle, but to no avail.

Oddly enough, the cold wasn’t so bad anymore. Actually, despite the snow, it was kind of warm in here.

But he couldn’t dwell on that. He needed to get this stupid chain off, and then the handcuffs too, so he could rescue Cole and get them both out.

He vaguely recalled their captor saying something about punishing Cole. Oh no, whatever it was, it was bound to be something bad. And for what, talking? This guy really was off his shit.

He needed to get them out of here.

And that whole “trainer” thing, what the hell was that about?

There was no way he was going to let this guy feel any more powerful than he already did. He wasn’t about to bow down to the will of this absolute psycho.

Speaking of, the door opened.

“Alright, little stray,” his captor said, removing the chain from his ankle. “Let’s get you inside.”

Kai jerked away from him, and the cold, glaring. “Whatever the hell you’re trying to do, it won’t work on me.”

His captor laughed. “Famous last words,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry, we’ll get that attitude fixed right up.”

Kai attempted to struggle further, but the second he was dragged out of the dog house, he was hit with the freezing cold, and for a moment his entire body stopped functioning. By the time he’d figured out how to move again, he was practically inside the house.

“Let go of me!” He yelled, but he could do nothing as he was dragged inside and down to the basement.

He was forced onto a table, then pushed down.

“Unhand me you jerk!”

His captor just clicked his handcuffs above his head. “Now then, here’s the deal, little stray.”

If there was one thing Kai hated about this jerk, it was the way he addressed him. 

“Once you’re ready to apologize, and I mean a good, real apology, your punishment will stop. Are we clear?”

“Like hell,” he growled. 

His captor sighed. “And of course, after your apology, you’re going to ask very politely like the good boy I know you can be, and it will stop.”

Kai didn’t like the repetition and the being talked to like he was a toddler, but couldn’t think of a good enough retort before a cloth was put over his face. Okay, he wasn’t really sure what this was supposed to accomplish…

For a moment, nothing happened. Everything was dark, and quiet, and the longer he waited, the more he was convinced nothing would happen. Maybe the point had just been to scare him?

And then… shit!

Water, freezing, ice cold water, was poured on his face. Or rather, the cloth covering his face. 

Honestly though, the worst part about it was how cold it was. Was the point of the cloth so that he wouldn’t be able to see, or…?

He was going to hurl another insult at his captor, perhaps about how bad he was at this, but before he could do so he deemed it necessary to, you know, breathe.

That was his mistake. Immediately, instead of the oxygen that should have been inhaled, it was the water. Shit, that wasn’t good.

He choked and sputtered, thrashing in his restraints. 

More water was poured on.

He held his breath on purpose this time, but it didn’t take all that long before he had to breathe. The water burned. 

It was like he was drowning!

This was why he hated water.

On autopilot, he tried to call forth his fire. It didn’t work, of course, and he was instead left feeling like he was screaming with no sound coming out.

He would need to wait this out. He could hold out until his captor grew tired of this, and then hopefully have some alone time to recover. He just had to hold out…

More water. More choking and drowning and burning.

Still, he was a ninja, he could handle this, he wasn’t just going to give in! 

Wait it out, find Cole, get out. 

He repeated it in his head over and over. This was some sort of terrible manifestation of his biggest fear, but he could get through it, for Cole.

The water kept coming.

He couldn’t tell if he was crying or if water had gotten into his eyes, but he chose to believe the latter. It was just a little water, nothing to get so worked up about.

“Come on, little stray, you know how to make it stop.”

He almost wanted to.

But he’d already given in once, he couldn’t do it again.

Unless…

Unless he faked it. Unless he managed to gain his captor’s trust somewhat until he could find Cole and break out. Unless he managed to fool him. Unless, unless, unless. It was a scary word, made scarier by the darkness, the drowning, the ever-approaching death that would follow if he didn’t take a breath that wasn’t waterlogged soon. 

It was risky, but being a ninja came with these sorts of risks. Well, it usually came with other sorts of risks more than these types, but still.

He couldn’t take this any longer.

“I’m sorry!”

He was sorry for, for… he’d done something, he knew he had, but between the panic and the fear and the darkness and the everything, he couldn’t remember what it was.

“Just stop, please, I’m sorry.”

His captor hummed. Hope thrummed in time with his frantically beating heart. He just wanted to breathe.

“You can do better than that,” with no other warning, more water was poured on.

Shit, fuck, this wasn’t how that was supposed to go!

It was too cold to be burning like it was. 

He strained his arms, trying frantically to pull them free, but no matter what he tried, it wouldn’t work.

Too much water, too much pain, too much fear. 

“Stop!” He begged, barely able to get it out through the suffocation. More water, way too much, make it stop make it stop make it stop!

“I’m sorry, Sir!” How had Cole apologized yesterday? “Please make it stop, please, I’m sorry!”

Everything stopped. 

Oh fuck, he’d just said that.

He’d just been in a panic. He hadn’t meant to say it like that, but his brain was in fight or flight mode and had been willing to do anything to save himself. 

The cloth came off. He squeezed his eyes shut against the brightness of the light above, coughing so hard that he was sure his throat would go raw. 

“You see?” His captor asked, “that wasn’t so hard. Maybe you’ll remember this next time you want to act up, hmm?”

Kai wanted to punch this guy in the face, or even just to yell at him, but kept his mouth shut. He had no desire to go through that again. 

His hands, though still cuffed, were released from the table, allowing him to sit up.

Immediately, he leaned over the side and vomited up water.

Oh fuck, that was a not fun feeling. It didn’t hurt as much as it had going down, but it left him feeling gross and icky. There were reasons he hated water!

He was carried to the next room over (he couldn’t fight back while he was still coughing so hard and unsure if he was about to puke again). The room itself was creepy. 

There was a dog bed on the floor, an open box of dog toys off to the side, a chain sticking off the wall, and — a cage. Kai wasn’t sure if it was how sick this whole thing was or not, but nonetheless, he threw up for a second time. Again, it was just water, but still.

Cole, who was lying on the dog bed, looked up at him, but otherwise didn’t react.

Kai was promptly attached to the chain on the wall and just as quickly abandoned. His captor approached Cole now, cooing at him affectionately.

Kai didn’t catch much of the conversation, too exhausted to even try, really. It was probably just primarily dehumanizing talk, anyway. He couldn’t stand watching Cole’s head be pet and scratched like he really was a dog, and so he turned away, contemplating if the feeling in his stomach meant he was going to throw up again. 

He heard Cole whine, which drew his attention. Hey, wait a minute, shouldn’t Cole have been restrained in some way too? It looked like he at least had handcuffs, but other than that, nothing. 

He could use this. All they had to do was wait.

Waiting, as it turned out, took forever. But finally, after a whole frickin eternity, their captor left the room. Kai could hear the click of the lock as the door shut.

He waited a minute to ensure they really were alone, filling the time with more uncontrollable coughing.

“Are you okay?” He eventually had the breath to ask, moving as close to his brother as the chain would allow. That was a dumb question, he realized. Of course Cole wouldn’t be okay, it had been what, a year? A year that he’d been stuck in this hellhole with that psychopath. Another, worse thought struck him when Cole didn’t answer his first question.

“Do you… remember who I am?” Please say yes, he needed to, there was no way Cole could have forgotten him.

Cole just looked at him curiously, then shook his head a little.

Kai felt his heart stop. Oh God… what did he remember?

“Do you know who you are?” This, Kai was relieved to see, was met with a nod. 

Cole looked at him with the interest and intensity of a dog determining if a stranger was a threat or not. Kai was uncomfortable, but didn’t look away.

He didn’t like it.

Eventually Cole turned away, curling up on the dog bed. Kai really didn’t like how casual Cole was about all this.

Okay, he needed to get them out of here. He gripped the chain, pulling with all his might. It didn’t budge.

“Come on…” he muttered, pulling even harder. If he had access to his elemental powers, he could just blast this stupid chain right off. Maybe he could slip his hands out of the cuffs…

“A little help would be appreciated,” he grunted, continuing to try to get free.

Cole looked at him with a look on his face that Kai would compare to some blend of confusion and fear. 

“Come on, dude, we need to get out of here.”

Cole let out an utterly distressed whine at that.

“Can’t you at least say something?” He recalled there being something about no talking, but their captor wasn’t even here right now. “Please?”

Cole just turned his head away and laid back down. 

Whatever, he’d just get out of this stupid chain by himself. Cole was just scared, he reasoned. He’d need to be gentle with him. 

He didn’t really know how long he spent trying to get free. A good few hours, if he were to guess. The time was spent in an uncomfortable silence. No matter what he did, Cole wouldn’t talk, and so he eventually gave up on trying to get him to.

Eventually, he reasoned that it would be easier to escape after some rest, and so he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

[dyaz-stories]

Because of You

Some more of my Warren/Layla Secret Dating AU!

Part 1 — Part 2 — Available on Ao3 and ff.net

Sometimes, fugitively, Warren regretted the time when he was all alone at his table for lunch. Mostly, he regretted the calm. Yeah, he was still in a refectory full of students, however the ones surrounding him always talked in a hushed voice, and he always appreciated this island of silence all around him. That was something he certainly didn’t get to enjoy anymore.

Not that he hated, or even disliked, the people surrounding him — though he would never tell them that—, but damn were they loud. Zach and Will, in particular, were probably his worst nightmare come true: too friendly, and convinced he was actually a good person. What was up with that?

The only one who could get away with pretty much anything would be the girl sitting opposite him, currently laughing at one of Zach’s absolutely terrible jokes. Also the one responsible for people actually liking him and disrupting his peace, in fact. Yeah, he’d glare at her, but that was mostly so he could simply, well, look at her without being too obvious about it.

And every once in a while, she would turn back, still smiling from something one of her friends had said, and he would just silently melt inside when their eyes met.

So the noise was the main new inconvenience, but it wasn’t the only one.

Something else that happened was that people seemed to start thinking it was okay to open their damn mouths in front of him. He was used to the whispers, could practically read the insults on their lips, but he didn’t have to actually ever hear them. If the noise was good for one thing, that would have to be it. It drowned them out, now that people seemed to think he’d softened and wouldn’t beat them to a pulp if he heard them.

“…worth no better than his murderer of a father…”

He tensed when the words dripped to him with absolute disgust. He found the culprit almost immediately. She hadn’t even bothered to try and pretend, staring straight at him, eyes shining with anger. He recognized her, too, and his heart dropped a little in his chest. Ah. That complicated the matter. Instead of standing up, like he probably should have, he found himself debating what he should do. And that was when all hell broke loose.

“Excuse me?”

Fuck.

“I think you heard me right, Williams,” Grace Summers replied, straightening herself.

A dangerous silence fell on the cafeteria as Layla stood up, looking shocked. She was recognized as one of the strongest students in school, sure, but it was only her second year at Sky High. Grace, on the other hand, would graduate soon, and her telekinesis power was known for being devastating.

“How can you say something like that?” Layla asked in disbelief, and despite his annoyance at her turning this into a situation, Warren couldn’t help but appreciate her outrage. She was only looking out for him, after all.

Grace scoffed.

“The apple never falls far from the tree,” she replied bitterly, and Warren openly rolled his eyes. He was used to it at this point, but people like her could get really ridiculous.

“Warren has nothing to do with what his father has done,” Layla replied, now practically vibrating with anger. “I can’t believe you’d lower yourself to—”

“Drop it, red.”

Everyone turned to Warren as he got up, grabbing his bag. He shot Layla a warning look that she didn’t seem to understand, merely staring at him, mouth gaping.

“Yeah, red, drop it,” Grace mocked her openly. “Or maybe just do your homework. Do you even have any idea what his father has done?”

Warren clenched his teeth. He’d hoped this wouldn’t escalate like that. It was precisely what he was trying to avoid. He really, really didn’t need yet another reminder of what his father had done either.

“I really don’t see…”

“I said drop it,” he growled, and this time when Layla looked at him, part of her anger was for him, mixed with hurt that made his throat tighten. This wasn’t what he meant to do.

“He murdered my father,” Grace continued anyway, and he realized he’d done it all for nothing. “He was saving citizens and Barron Battle blew up the building he was in.”

“And that still has nothing to do with Warren,” Layla hissed, appearing more and more ready to get into a fist fight with every second that passed.

“I’m fucking serious, Williams!” Warren exploded. “Forget it!”

Shoving past her, he got right in Grace’s face. She was almost his height, and appeared completely unimpressed.

“If you keep talking, Summers, you’d better get prepared to have your vocal chords burnt off.”

“I’d love to see you try, Battle,” she replied, raising her chin defiantly.

He growled and hit her shoulder with his on his way out. He almost had trouble breathing now, but he was also starting to literally fume. Sure, she was a bitch, but he couldn’t reasonably beat up someone who was hurt because their father had been murdered. He didn’t mind playing dirty, he’d certainly done so with Stronghold, but he refused to stoop that low.

Grace’s eyes went back to Layla, whose eyes were still on Warren’s back. She opened her mouth, but Will shook his head, standing behind his best friend.

“You got what you wanted, Grace. Let’s stop that now.”

She seemed annoyed, but she still walked away. She wasn’t scared of Will by anyway, but he was still a hero, and she respected that. Plus, he was right, though she wouldn’t have minded getting into a fight with that little goody two shoes. “Not Warren’s fault”, gosh, really? They didn’t live in a Utopia. Sooner or later, the evil that ran in the family would catch up to him. Of that, she was convinced.

And also, her father had been murdered just a little over five years ago, and she really, really missed him today.

“I’m capable of leading my own fights, Will,” Layla mumbled as the crowd that had gathered for the confrontation started walking away.

“So is Warren,” her best friend replied softly.

Layla bit her bottom lip. Yeah, but it was different. She had been more than ready to actually fight. She’d seen the look on Warren’s face. He would have walked away, and she guessed she could understand why now, but it just wasn’t like her to let something unfair slide.

“You’re right,” she said bitterly, “so we should all have looked in the other direction while she was insulting him.”

Will opened her mouth to respond, but she shook her head.

“I know that’s what you were all about to do. So forgive me if I actually have a problem with that attitude.”

With that she stormed off, and Magenta threw her hands in the air. Sometimes, she wished Layla would get off of her high horse. Will, however, grimaced. He could see where she was coming from, and she was right. He wouldn’t have said anything, and maybe there was a problem with that. Because reasonably, Layla had a point. Blaming someone for their parents’ wrongdoings was, well, wrong, and no doubt hurtful for Warren. But this wasn’t just about reason, and she seemed to fail to see that.

It was a part of her, no doubt, and even something he’d say he liked about her, that absolute righteousness in her actions. He wasn’t sure what the right answer was in that situation, but he still felt like sometimes, maybe that could cloud her judgement.

And not once did he suspect that her reactions might have been due to her particular attachment to the super-villain’s son.

To put it simply, Warren had had a shitty day, the young man thought grimly as he finished cleaning up the tables at the Paper Lantern. There had been the altercation with Grace Summers, which had played again and again in his mind for the rest of the day. Everything she’d said — how terrible his father was, how he’d end up like him — was something he’d told himself a thousand times before, and that he’d heard another thousand times. It never stopped being painful though.

He could probably have handled that if there hadn’t been the thing with Layla. He’d blamed himself for it during the following hours of class, and he’d hoped they would be able to reconcile. And then he’d ran into her in the hallway and she hadn’t even acknowledged his existence, just walking past him like he didn’t exist, and that was the exact moment he’d known he’d made a mistake.

He’d tried to tell himself that, hey, she wasn’t much better, and she’d fucked up too, but that was all useless.

He didn’t know how to function without her anymore, and he was terrified he would have to learn to do it again.

So the relief that flooded through him when he saw her sitting under a streetlight, on the bench that faced the restaurant, with a book on her knees, was indescribable. She heard him as he crossed the street and got to her feet. She opened her mouth, ready to go for a no doubt longly rehearsed speech but he leaned in to steal a brief kiss, relishing the taste of her lips and the contact of her skin.

He’d missed her today.

When he pulled back, it appeared she’d completely lost her train of thought and was just opening and closing her mouth over and over.

And she was absolutely adorable doing that. A chuckle escaped him as he noticed that she was starting to blush, too. Somehow, this might be what he found most incredible about their relationship. That she could get that affected by him. Him, of all people.

Finally, Layla managed to take a deep breath, and she looked straight into his eyes.

“I can’t sit back doing nothing while you’re getting insulted,” she said bluntly.

“I had my reasons—”

“I know, Warren, I do, but I also know that you hate it when people say stuff like that. I know you’re terrified you’ll end up like your dad, and I can’t stand back when I know what it’ll put your through.”

He smiled, then nodded. He could feel his palms heating up a little, but this time, it had nothing to do with anger.

“I’m sorry I… You know.”

“You’d better be sorry,” she said with a frown, feigning anger. “If you talk to me like that again, I might have to make sure you can’t sit on the grass at Sky High ever again.”

That sounded… just a little too serious.

“Wait hippie, you didn’t…”

“I’m firmly non-violent. But I do believe in civil disobedience.”

He shook his head, the ‘I love you’ just about to slip past his lips, but he didn’t dare to say it out loud. Instead, he kissed her again, and this time, she pressed herself against him, her hand travelling to his face to cup his jaw. There was so much she wanted to convey in this kiss. How much she cared for him, how much she loved, how much she believed in him.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said, taking her hand in his, and she smiled.

“Oh, and trees in the area will drop their fruits on her for like, a year.”

Warren let himself laugh out loud, and Layla grinned, satisfied. After today, making him laugh was really all she wanted.

[talesofsonicasura]

Guardian of the Forest

This has been stewing in my Google drive for quite a bit. It's when you play tons of Digimon, binge watch Attack On Titan and have a love for Demon Digimon that resulted in this little story here.

She was punished from the unrighteous sin of another. His entire species caged in stone walls like sheep to the slaughter. Both refuse to accept their fate and it was time to strike back and rebel.

Monster. A word that has many meanings to describe something. A term often used for otherworldly creatures or those with peculiarities. Something that fit the Evil Digimon species. They were called Evil for they represented the demons, horrors and undead of legends. Demons, ghosts, ghouls and vampires are such a small sample amongst the variety. Yet, not all of them are actually evil.

They are called that mainly for their power to manipulate the element of darkness. Darkness to many was considered malevolent, vile and unneeded. On the opposite, Holy Digimon were considered pure and absolute good. They held angelic appearances and wielded the element known as light. Light to many was blessed, sacred and untainted. Yet, not all Holy Digimon were good.

Yet not many could look past the black and whites of the world. This led the innocent to be punished and the wicked to be rewarded. It was how many innocent Digimon were sent to the Dark Area or worse, deleted. Amongst them was a Granddracmon who was only trying to protect his young. A Holy Digimon with a heart darker than any abyss had struck the family with unequal hatred.

Clash between Mega Digimon was intense and devastating especially one as powerful as GranDracmon who are said to surpass many Demon Lord Digimon vastly in power. In the end, Granddracmon had been subdued and punished. Punishment? The youngest Digimon had the power of Digivolution taken from them and cast out of the Digital World trapped in the In-Training stage with no hope of surviving or returning home.

Yet, hope was something no one could manipulate or control. For it granted the impossible in unpredictable ways.

Shiganshina, the outer town of Wall Maria. Long ago, giant creatures resembling emerged all over the world. These beasts held unbelievably sturdy hides, near godlike regeneration and incredible size from a simple three meters to a towering fifteen meters. To animals, they leave them undisturbed and vice versa. However when it involved humans was where the horror laid.

These creatures hunt down humans and devour them with no emotion. The terrifying part? These beasts only did it for the kill not for substance or vendetta. It was for the kill and no more. It didn't take long for humanity to be pushed to the edge of extinction overnight. Survivors crafted three walls ranging from 50 meters and over to keep the creatures out and these creatures earned their name. Titans, for they only brought death and destruction.

Shiganshina was located in the first wall that was made, Wall Maria. It was where farmers, common folk and those who were considered low status dwelled amongst vast abundance of nature. One forest in particular was special amongst the others. The Legend of the Red Eye. The Red Eye was a mysterious creature that dwelled within the woods. It was called Red Eye for the large glowing red orb that emerged before it strikes.

Deer, wolves and even bears fell victim to its claws with all of their blood drained. Yet to a single boy amongst thousands of people wasn't afraid. Hair short and the color of dark chocolate with eyes as bright as emeralds but a soul that burned like fire. This child was Eren Yeager, son of Doctor Grisha Yeager. An act of bravery was what set the greatest ripple of all history.

The sound of footsteps and crunching of leaves could be heard as a young child barely 3 ft in height ran through the Red Eyed Woods. This child, Eren, was carrying an empty firewood container on his back and in his hand was a few rabbits freshly killed. "Hmm… She should be somewhere around here. Garnet! Garnet! Where are you?" Eren called as his youthful slight raspy voice carried out through the vast woods.

A large bright red glared at the boy from deep within the brush of brambles and leaves. Claws clicked in the sticks they grasped. When the child draws near, it leapt out at him. Eren only turned before being knocked to the ground by a bluish violet blur. The boy laid on his back as green orbs stared into a single large red orb. Pinning the child to the ground was a large violet blue hand like creature.

It was half the boy's size with two wispy antennas, small white claws on each leg and a single giant red eye on the front of its odd octopus/hand body. Though what was peculiar was that Eren had a small pin on his shirt shaped just like the red eyes beast. "Get off me Garnet! If I come home with scratch marks in my clothes again, mom will get very suspicious about what I been doing!" Eren yelled in annoyance.

"Sorry Erenmon. Garnet is just hungry." A childish little girl's voice came from the creature as it walked off the boy. "What do you expect from your large appetite? All that pigging out on bears lately got you triple the size of a normal Tsumemon!" Eren exclaimed as Garnet looked at him. "I can't help it. Not being able to digivolve screws up any Digimon's natural biology. Size is the only thing that has been keeping me alive and not some wolf's dinner." Garnet replied walking over to Eren.

It was actually comical on how the duo met. Eren was being chased by a wolf when he had accidentally walked into its territory. This wolf was the one that actually was being hunted by Garnet. It was an alpha predator hunting a predator who was stalking a potential prey. It ended with Eren throwing a stick at the furball causing it to trip and Garnet the chance to grapple the creature to feed on it. From then it was the beginning of their odd friendship and years of trading.

Eren would visit Garnet with animals he hunted. Then he would exchange it for something the Tsumemon found in the forest or help in tasks like wood gathering. It benefitted both parties for Eren would get stuff he could use or sell and Garnet got more food to eat or store. "Do you need anything while your here Erenmon?" Garnet questioned the child. Apparently adding -mon to someone's name was a sign of respect and endearment for the In-Training's point of view.

"Nah. I just thought of giving you some rabbits to eat today. You have been a big help lately considering dad's work has been going slow." Eren states giving said forest creatures to the Digimon. "Hey, you are my friend and friends help each other. Ain't the Scouts coming back today from their latest expedition? You don't want to miss it." Garnet said as Eren flinched. "Oh crap! You're right! Thanks for the heads up Garnet. I have to go before Mikasa finds out I disappeared." Eren exclaimed as the little Digimon chuckled.

"Go Erenmon! I 'see' you tomorrow!" Garnet giggled with an eye pun as Eren took off. "I wonder when he will ever introduce me to his friends. Though considering everyone's views on the Survey Corps and this Titan nonsense of late, he does have good reasons." Garnet said as she took her claws and dug them into the three bunny corpses. "Why do I have this feeling that something bad is going to happen?" The Tsumemon asked herself before feeding her on food's blood.

Survey Corps or Scout Regiment, it was a military faction dedicated to exploring the outside world beyond the walls. It also had the highest death count of over 40 percent each expedition. This regiment was the only one who also did research on the mysterious titans and it was thanks to them for what precious knowledge they had about the giants.

Many thought they were fools for there was barely anything to cover the massive loss of life per trip but this isn't what Eren saw. To him, the Scouts were the only ones looking for answers to forever ending the titan's reign but also the world they were forced to abandoned for these insufferable walls. Some of the many who didn't support the Scouts was Eren's own mother Carla Yaeger.

She absolutely despises the Survey Corps and couldn't help but belittle them with each chance she gets. Eren could remember the many times she has done so in double digits. It was that attitude that made their relationship rough but meeting Garnet had made it worse. Garnet doesn't insult or belittle his mother whenever they meet up.

She could understand her wanting Eren to be alive but attacking the only thing willing to fight for the better of their face miffed her like a bad itch. "Nothing is forever. There will come a time where these walls will fall. The Survey Corps are the only ones trying to find a solution. They chose to risk their lives for change. To make fun of them is disrespecting their sacrifice. No one should insult their cause or souls" Were her words exactly.

Garnet had not just supported the boy but also teach him skills that could help if he ever enlists in the military. She taught him how to mask his presence, observe his surroundings and develop a sixth sense for danger. Eren had kept his goal to join the Survey Corps secret from his mother. The only ones who knew other than him and Garnet were his foster sister Mikasa and his best friend Armin.

Though he didn't feel it was smart to tell Mikasa. Mikasa was adopted into their family when her parents were brutally murdered by slave traffickers. Her onyx hair and near solemn black eyes with the crimson scarf was the only thing to identify her amongst any crowd. Mikasa was overly protective which was something Garnet believed she needed to hold back on.

Eren easily agreed with the Digimon during his current situation. The Survey Corps had returned to the walls but this expedition was a bust so to speak. A lot of casualties and broken spirits amongst the group of soldiers. The worst was when a mother looking for her son amongst then was brought back his arm and told they didn't learn anything new. That it was a waste. He recognized the look in Mikasa's eyes from the scene and knew what happened next was something he didn't like.

'Traitor!' Eren screamed in his head as he ran from his home in a rage. Mikasa had told his secret to his mother and the reaction was one he expected for her. 'Get that idiotic thought out of your head! I won't let my son go out to get himself killed for something pointless!' His mother's voice bellowed at him. 'She doesn't understand! I don't want to live a life as a bird stuck in a cage! I want to go see what's out there and the answers it holds! We can't sit around or this nightmare will never end!' Eren thought trying to hold back tears.

He needed to do something. Anything to resist the urge to scream in rage and go berserk. He looked up to see a boy around his age being picked by bullies. Eren recognized this particular child as Armin from his sun yellow hair, blue eyes and skinny frame. Despite being frail, Armin was the smartest of the three. Eren was the trio's courage and Mikasa served as the powerhouse. "Leave my friend alone you bastards!" Eren howled before jumping into the fray. It wasn't anyone's day at all.

"Nail Scratch!" A tree limb was suddenly sliced into pieces as Garnet leapt past it. The Tsumemon had decided to up her training by working on her techniques. It was something she did so on the day Eren made it to the Scouts then she could support him in battle. Titans only had one weak spot which was located on the nape of their neck. Her Bubble attack would be useless in a fight but her Nail Scratch had the best chance of actually breaking through their tough hide.

"Alright! I sliced clean through that limb and it was twice as thick as the last one too!" Garnet cheered happily. The sun was beginning to set as Garnet faced the wall far from her home. She felt confused as something was tapping into her senses. Then her pupil shrunk and her antennae shot up in alert. "That aura…! Danger! Really really deadly! It's… a catastrophe in the making! Eren in danger!" Garnet hissed wildly as a giant bolt of lightning crashed down from the distance.

"Find Eren! I gotta find Eren!" She cried out before darting off in a frenzy of worry and desperation. It can take one thing to remind the last remnants of humanity of what kept them caged. Giant skinless fingers hung over the 50 meter as what belonged to it rose into view. The face of a skinless behemoth of a titan with a corpse like mouth and verdant eyes that only promised devastation looked down on the people of Shiganshina.

In an instant the outer gate between the outside and Shiganshina had exploded inward taking into the air. Debris rained from above crushing both people and buildings underfoot the pure terror was the soulless face of a 15 meter titan peeking its head through the breach. A mass of panic had broken out as Mikasa and Eren were trapped in the chaos. "Come on Mikasa! We have to find mom! Part of that gate went flying where our house is at!" Eren screamed as he ran with all his might.

Garnet amongst the panic was also searching for Eren. The Tsumemon wove through the crowd looking desperately for her friend while dispatching any Titans in her path. "Nail Scratch!" She cried out as her claws ripped through the nape of a 12 meter Titan who was about to grab a child. "*huff* That's 7 of them but no sign of Eren. Where is he?!" Garnet shouted. She looked to her right and saw what remained of Eren's house.

How did she know? The corpse of Eren's own mother peeked from underneath the tile roof specifically her hand. "She wasn't eaten since that roof obviously crushed her. Irony on how ones fear of being devoured is to be replaced with death by their own home. Yet, where's Eren?" Garnet questioned before her single eye laid on something that chilled her core.

In the hands of an ugly blonde 15 meter Titan was Eren! "No!" She screamed as she flew desperately towards her friend. Eren was fighting to break the monster's grasp on him but it merely ignored his attempts to the likeness of a fly. 'I'm not going to make it but I can't leave him!' The Tsumemon thought. 'If only I could Digivolve but that bastard took it away from me!' The thought made her want to scream.

A memory flashed through her mind. 'Hey. Do you have a name other than Tsumemon?' A young Eren asked the little Tsumemon. 'No. Tsumemon is the only thing I got. No one really gave me one.' Garnet replied. 'Do you want one? I think you deserve an actual name than something you share with your species.' The boy said as Garnet looked confused. 'Um, okay? What do you think my name should be?' The Tsumemon questioned.

'Um… I got it! I'll call you Garnet! It's this stone Armin showed me in his special book! It said that a Garnet represents a strong spirit and will of defiance! You fight against all the odds and still come out on top yet keep a level head! ' Eren explained as Garnet couldn't help but feel happy. 'Then call me Garnet.' The Tsumemon soon had a determined look on her face.

'I won't give up! Eren put his faith in me! I am a Garnet and Garnets always overcome every challenge! I don't need Digivolution because I have something better! A friend!' Garnet thought picking up more speed. "We are going to see what lies beyond these walls together. Eren… I'M NOT LETTING YOU DIE!!!" Garnet cried out with all her might as Eren felt her resolve. "Garnet!!!" Eren cried as he turned and reached out for his friend.

And at that moment, hope had brought forth a new power.

"Spirit Rebellion! Tsumemon EXEvolve to…!" The Tsumemon cried as a bright red light engulfed her in a brilliant flash. The sound of torn flesh pierced through the destructive chaos as boiling red splattered everywhere. The head of the 15 meter sailed through the air along with other pieces of its body before crashing into different parts of Shiganshina and even one piece splatting onto the wall.

Eren had opened his eyes that he didn't know he closed to find himself still alive. "What happened?" He asked before noticing the surface underneath him was red, furry and eerily shaped like a hand. "Erenmon, you're safe now." A soft, kind and exotic woman's voice spoke as Eren looked up in shock. Only one person called him Erenmon. Holding him gently in their hand was a centaur like creature.

It was around 20 meters and looked capable of carrying a 15 meter Titan on her back. The top half was human with gray skin and the face of a woman that was obscured by a dark blue eyeless mask, red straps, black belts, a blue bat shaped cowl that a beautiful carved garnet gemstone and dark red fur covered the top half of her body and chest, long curly blond mane of hair on her head and a spiralling tail of yellow hair, half black and half white bat like wings on her back, twin curled horns, razor sharp claws, a beautiful woman's face that held sharp fangs behind soft ruby lips.

Her bottom half could be described as something from hell. The bottom half was more wolf and bear like than horse from the bulk and talon wielding paws, two giant eyeless shark like heads snapped from the side of her front thighs practically big enough to swallow a 12 meter Titan's head in their jaws, back curled spikes behind each of her legs guaranteeing pain for those careless to strike and on her lower was some sort of horse armor with a sheath that made home to a sword with a black bat like hilt.

"Garnet...You digivolved…" Eren spoke breathless at his friend's incredible transformation. "I don't think this is Digivolution but it's something more powerful. EXEvolution..." Garnet answered. "EXEvolution… Garnet, is my mom?" Eren asked as Garnet couldn't help but shook her head. Tears welled up in the child's eyes as he looked ready to cry. "The house killed her from collapsing. She was dead on arrival. Though there are more pressing matters." Garnet explained as Eren looked at the madness around them.

"Garnet. We have to get everyone out of here. As much as I want to kill these titans, there are still people alive who need to be saved." Eren said wiping the tears from his face. "I'm with you partner. Do you wish to give this form a name before we begin?" Garnet asked facing her friend. "Yeah I do. No longer are we going to sit back and let these bastards trample our dreams! It's time to fight back! Let's show them your new power Garnet! The power of GranDracmon: Rebellion Mode!" Eren shouted with all his might.

"GranDracmon: Rebellion Mode… Yes! That'll do my friend! Time to break our chains and rebel!" Garnet declared as her twin shark heads roared in challenge. Hope can come in many forms and often comes in moments of rebellion. To rebel against fate is to prove yourself worthy to face the impossible. That is the power of EXEvolution. Something this beauty and cruel world will easily understand because of two spirits who fought against fate!

That's it! GranDracmon line is one of my favorite Digivolution lines other than Cherubimon Evil or Venommyotismon from the Demon Digimon family. EXEvolution is like an alternate version of Digivolution which I created to avoid being a complete hypocrite since quote on quote Garnet can't Digivolve.

Eren's pure hatred stemmed from watching his mother get eaten but since she died an alternate way, he's resolve is more towards saving others than 'I'm gonna kill all the Titans'. Plus GranDracmon Rebellion Mode is came from a dream along with the thought of it being badass with a Rogue Titan Eren riding into battle on Garnet like a badass.

That's it for now! Until next time, stay fresh!