#he probably curses out and threatens to attack his father and has a mixed thing with his mother

[waywardsalt]

i love having post ph ideas and no idea where on the timeline they go

[gingerpeachtae]

Concentric [21]

masterlist

Words: 4.7k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut

Warnings: n/a

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: I am so sorry my update schedule has been wack recently but here ya’ll go! Engoy and i hope you all had a peachy start to the new year! 💙

Amarok bit back a scream as the searing pain bore deeper into his mind, the sound making his wolves whimper and whine from where they laid in the corner of the tent.

It felt like his head was being split; a scorching dagger buried to the hilt and dragged about, burning and destroying his brain. It was leaving him gasping for air and blinded by the dark spots appearing behind his eyes.

“You are too late.” His master seethed, his voice so guttural and raspy it filled the emptiness of the tent like a shriek. “They unlocked the key.”

Amarok’s vision continued to grow darker, the black spots in his vision expanding with every heartbeat.

“Do you know what this means?” Uzjuk spat out.

Choking on a mix between a sob and a groan, Amarok dug his fingers into his scalp while forcing out an answer. “They… know… where…”

“Yes,” Uzjuk hissed. “She will have told them where I am entering this world from. Where I first met you and set you on your true path.”

The pain was becoming too much. It was too dark. Too hot. Too intense. A scream began to rip its way out from Amarok’s throat, but before it could claw its way out, his master released his grip on the male’s mind with a tsk.

Amarok heaved on the ground as he slowly eased the tight grasp he had on his hair. Bracing himself on one hand and one forearm, he breathed laboriously as his wolves came to his side and nudged him with their wet noses.

“So weak,” his master growled in disgust.

Sweat trailed down the side of the male’s face as he pushed his wolves away with a curse under his breath. When they tried to come to his side once more, Amarok shoved them back more forcefully and yelled at them to get out. The canines’ ears pressed flat against their skulls as they bowed their heads and slunked out of the tent’s flap. Struggling to his feet, Amarok whispered an apology for his behavior to the god. The dark smoke that was his master swirled around his form, disturbing the air and causing the few lit candles to flicker dangerously and threaten to go out.

“Attacking the palace will have to wait now.” Uzjuk croaked out in anger, the darkness inside the tent pulsating to show his disappointment. “First thing in the morning, change course to the cave.”

“Yes, master.”

“You must get there before she does. She cannot be allowed to touch the rift.”

“Yes, master.”

“Be sure to kill them all. And make the key watch before slitting his throat. Make him listen to their screams, see their blood.”

The male’s lips twisted into a smile. “Yes, master.”

Then, without another word, Uzjuk and his smoke vanished, and Amarok sagged to his knees.

Clenching his fists, he breathed out between his teeth. “I’ll kill them all.”

“So like…” You momentarily paused as you leaned back into Jungkook’s chest, pursing your lips and raising your brows at the other Saeni around you. “If he’s the god of pain and darkness then their sex life was probably kinky as hell. Just saying.”

You and the other Saeni were meeting to decide what the best course of action was for dealing with Uzjuk and his rift into Illain. Not much progress had been made though; there was simply too much shock still lingering from the sudden interaction with the mother goddess to be making such big decisions. Of course, comments like the one you just made were not helping either.

The corner of your lips lifted in amusement as Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation while the others blinked at you astoundingly. Close to your ear, you heard Jungkook release a light snort, no doubt rolling his eyes at your statement.

“You just witnessed me being possessed by the mother goddess herself and her detailing how we need to close off her psycho ex-lover’s entry into Illain before he kills us and basically throws the entire world into eternal darkness and their sex life is what you’re focused on!?” Jimin looked at you across the group in disbelief, his brown eyes going wide.

You laughed. “Oh, come on! There’s no way you could be in a relationship with the god of pain and not be into BDSM.” You leaned forward a bit and threw a hand out toward the white-haired Saeni sitting close by.  “That’s like looking at Hobi’s outfit and saying he couldn’t be a bondage and knife play enthusiast.”

The evening sunlight reflected off the spy’s plentiful knives as he coughed into his hand, shifted his body, and looked into the distance with squinty eyes. In other words, blatantly avoiding eye contact with the mint-haired magic user next to him. You swear you saw a hint of flush creeping up his neck too.

Better take a freaking note, Mr. Sparkle Hands. You’re welcome for this information.

With a satisfied smirk dancing on your face, you went back to resting against your boyfriend’s chest, whose quiet laughter vibrated into your body, as Jimin took a deep breath and slowly ran a hand through his hair while thumping his head back against the trunk of his father’s draeva. Jiae brought her small hand up to his knee and began rubbing her thumb back and forth soothingly while Tae innocently looked between you and his apricot-haired brother before asking what knife play meant.

You struggled to withhold a giggle at Jimin’s tired face as Mingi’s hazel eyes also grew curious and he shifted closer to hear the half-Saeni’s answer. Meanwhile, Namjoon and Jin just groaned and dropped their heads in frustration at how the meeting they called for had fallen so off-topic. Beside them, Chungah was watching the events unfold impassively, simply keeping an eye on the lilac-haired princess and waiting for a decision to be made.

As you watched the female guard apathetically observe Jiae and her surroundings you recalled when she had finally come out from her oh-so pleasant interrogating inside the temple a little while after everything had happened. She had tensed up as she listened to Mingi explain what had occurred, and although her steeled eyes had softened just a smidge when Illai’s name was mentioned, all she did was ask about Jiae when the male guard finished telling the story. After confirming that no harm came to the princess and that she was alright, the female just nodded and fell back into her usual silence.

You blinked a few times as you left the recent memory and returned to the present, and as your eyes refocused on your surroundings, you realized that you had been staring at Chungha while thinking. Her gaze locked with yours and she lifted a brow lazily in disinterested questioning. You threw her a quick smile but all she did was hum lowly before returning her eyes to the princess.

I know she’s on our side and all but damn her cold silence can be so intimidating. You shuddered slightly as you moved your gaze back to the others.

While Jimin deeply sighed in defeat and hastily explained to the curious Saeni what knife play entailed, you smiled while watching Yoongi scoot closer to Hobi, give him a nudge, and ask why his face was suddenly flushing. The kiela’s spy immediately started denying it though, arguing that it was just the darkening sunlight on his skin.

“Is that something you like?” Jungkook suddenly breathed into your ear.

“Huh?”

“He wrapped his arms around your torso and tugged you even more against him so that he could whisper in a deep, breathy tone. “Knife play. Is that something you’re into, sweetheart?”

Biting your lip, you smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would. That’s why I’m asking.” You could feel Jungkook bare his teeth and you shivered as he nipped at your earlobe.

“Oh my goddess, okay, before Kook and Y/N literally start making out in front of us can we please figure this out?” Namjoon half-yelled, his voice dripping with stress.

Instantly, Jungkook moved away from your head and you sheepishly looked at the leader of the kiela as heat rushed up to your face. You and your boyfriend murmured out a shy apology and the yellow-eyed male let out an exhale.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m just… I don’t know what to do.” Namjoon looked at you both with apprehension filling his features and Jin raised his hand to squeeze his brother’s shoulder.

“Didn’t Illai say she would guide Chim in his mind? Let’s just use that, find that damned thing, close it, and call it a day.” Yoongi piped up as you heard a low rumble of thunder in the distance.

A cool wind blew in and rustled the leaves, and as you looked toward the horizon, you could see heavy, dark clouds starting to roll in. No doubt it would be raining soon.

Jimin tugged at his hair once before bumping his palm against his forehead. “I haven’t heard or felt anything from her yet so I’m not sure exactly how the whole guiding me thing is gonna go.”

“Plus, Illai said that Uzjuk would have felt her presence and likely move his forces to protect the rift. Even if we move fast, I don’t know if we could move fast enough to get there first,” Jiae added.

Both Mingi and Chungha scoffed before telling the lilac-haired female that there would be no ‘we’ in her situation, that she would be going back to the palace.

Jiae’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “What?”

Your best friend grabbed her hand from his knee and looked into her eyes as softly as he could. “They’re right. You need to go back.”

Her mouth dropped open and you could see her trying to find the words to fight as her gaze flitted around the group.

You sent her a sympathetic look, feeling for her. You knew what it was like to want to go and to have someone say you couldn’t. But… this time you agreed with her guards. It would have been different if she knew how to fight or had been training like you, but she hadn’t. Going would only get her or someone else killed.

Sensing how everyone else must also be agreeing with Mingi, Chungha, and Jimin, her posture drooped and she hung her head as another rumble of thunder traveled across the sky. “I know. I know you’re right and I understand why, but that means I’ll be doing nothing while you all are in danger.”

“Not necessarily.” Jungkook spoke up clearly. “You can inform your father about what’s going on and have him send help. Like you said, there’s no way we will get to the rift before the draikensu so we’re going to need backup and a lot of it.”

The kiela voiced their agreement and you saw Chungha even give a curt nod of her head in approval. As the Saeni began discussing different scenarios of the unavoidable skirmish with Uzjuk and his little draikensu followers, you absentmindedly trailed your fingertips across Jungkook’s forearm while watching the approaching storm clouds.

“We don’t even know how many draikensu there are.” Tae sighed while adjusting his headband.

Yoongi picked up a stick by his foot and began drawing shapes in the ground, his elbow bumping into Hobi occasionally. “That won’t be an issue if we get there before them, but on the likely chance we don’t, then we scout it out, I send out location and number of enemies to the palace magic users, and we wait for our backup.”

Sounds like a plan to me babey.

“And if by Exia’s sake we do get there first, we rush in and take care of business like we always do.” Jin added as he gave a small fist pump of victory.

Tae cheered quietly and pumped his fist too, the action making your heart melt.

“Hyungs none of this matters if we aren’t able to find the fucking rift.” Jungkook muttered as another gust of chilly wind picked up.

Hobi groaned in response while Namjoon looked into Jungkook’s eyes. “Illai will come through. The mother goddess won’t let us down.”

Giving Jungkook’s arm a reassuring pat, you affirmed the leader’s words by saying that maybe you all needed to get moving a bit before the goddess could figure out the necessary route to the rift.

Jimin smiled at you as he tapped his fingers against his thigh. “Like when a GPS doesn’t know what the fuck is going on when you’re coming out of a parking garage and you have to drive a little for it to route correctly.”

“Exactly!” You laughed, tipping your head back onto Jungkook’s shoulder. “It’s always so annoying when it does that.”

“You do realize you just called the mother goddess annoying, right? I don’t know what any of that other stuff was, but you definitely just did that.” The male behind you chuckled.

You stiffened as you realized you did just inadvertently called Illai annoying and you meekly whispered an apology to the goddess if she was listening.

Let’s hope her ego doesn’t get wounded as easily as Zeus because I would prefer to not get struck by lightening during this incoming storm.

“Princess…” Mingi abruptly said in a tentative tone.

Everyone fell silent and the only noise was the tree limbs swaying, the birds and bugs chirping, and the distant rolls of thunder.

The hazel-eyes guard cleared his throat and continued in a hesitant voice. “It’s my sworn duty to protect you but… but I wish to go with the kiela. To the rift. They’re going to need every fighter they can get, and I know Chungha is more than enough to keep you safe, so please allow me to-”

“You can go.” Jiae interrupted him softly with a tiny smile, making the male perk up. “But only if you promise to keep an eye on Chim for me.”

You saw Jimin’s jaw tick and he huffed that he didn’t need a guard.

“The future of Illain and therefore my future safety relies on you closing the rift so think of it as an extension of protecting me. Plus, you don’t have a say because Mingi is my guard, so he listens to me, not you.”

Hell yeah, you go girl. You mentally applauded Jiae as your best friend just huffed again and began to aggressively pout.

Mingi, on the other hand, whispered a thank you to the princess and she acknowledged him as the group fell back into a quiet contemplation.

The wind picked up yet again, causing the leaves to shake, Tae’s feather earring to whip around, and everyone’s hair to be rustled. You snuggled further into the male holding you, humming in content at his warmth. Sneaking a glance back at the burgundy head, you saw that he had a serious expression as he thought of possible outcomes of the confrontation with the draikensu, though his eyes softened as he noticed you looking at him. He lifted one hand from where it was wrapped around your torso to rest lightly against your cheek. Smoothing his thumb across your cheekbone, his face relaxed even more as his green eyes drank you in.

“What?” You whispered with a smile.

He just continued to look at you until another breeze sent some strands of your hair floating into your face. Chuckling, he gently brushed them back. Then his peridot eyes flickered down to your lips briefly before he leaned into capture them in a peck. Warm tingles surged within you as he pulled away, a smile teasing at the edge of his mouth. With an appeased sigh, you went to face forward again, but caught sight of Juufa’s temple out of the corner of your eye which made you pause.

After a few heartbeats, you tore your gaze from the ancient structure and looked at the Saeni around you.

Pursing your lips, you called out to nobody in particular. “Hey so, uh… what the hell are we gonna do about the draikensu we have locked up?”

All murmuring conversations ceased as their eyes swiveled to you and began shifting back and forth between you and the temple. You heard Jungkook mumble out a curse and Jin shook his fists with a tiny, aggravated yell.

Namjoon closed his eyes as if needing to collect himself before throwing his hands into the air. “Well, fuck. Anyone have any ideas?”

You stared into the fire as the wood snapped and embers glowed, mesmerized by the orange flames. After giving your tummy a pat, which was nice and full from Jin’s dinner, you stretched your arms high over your head as you released a small groan. Next to you, Tae yawned and cupped his face in his palms as he also stared into the fire. Blowing a raspberry, you stood up and grabbed a fresh log of wood before squatting and gently maneuvering it onto the burning pile in a way that wouldn’t smother the flames. Once it was properly added to the fire, you quickly threw your arm over your face and backed away while coughing, eyes burning from the heat and flames. When you reached a safe distance, you turned and listened to the rain falling. The muted pitter patter of droplets hitting thousands of leaves outside of Yoongi’s magic shield combined with the sound of a crackling fire made you feel soothed and calm.

Turning again, you faced the almost setting sun with a long exhale. You were supposed to go back to the cliff with Jungkook tonight to watch the sunset, but you didn’t think it was going to happen. The thought made you a little glum since this was your last night at the temple. First thing in the morning, you, the kiela, and Mingi would be heading out to find the rift while Jiae and Chungha made their way back to the palace.

Because of that, Jungkook and Yoongi had joined Chungha with interrogating the driakensu one final time to see if he would say anything that could be useful. You had offered to help them too, but Jungkook had pulled you aside and told you that he was uncomfortable with you being near the draikensu and he didn’t know if he would be able to control himself if the male made comments toward you again. And as much as Jungkook believed the male deserved to die for hurting you, he didn’t want to kill an unarmed person who’s been locked up. You understood where he was coming from and since he talked to you about it rather than exploding like he had in the past, you stayed outside with Tae. At first, the two of you listened to Namjoon, Jin, Hobi, and Mingi discuss strategies as you all sat around the fire, but you both quickly grew bored of that and started playing dumb human games like I Spy with My Little Eye to keep yourselves entertained. It would have been much more fun with more than two people, cough cough Jimin and Jiae, but it was their last night together, so neither you or Tae wanted to interrupt whatever it was they were doing.

Glancing from the steadily falling sun to the temple, you wondered if they had gotten any information out of the draikensu. He hadn’t said anything even with Chungha interrogating him, so you doubted he would say anything now, but at the same time, Jungkook and Yoongi could be just as terrifying and deadly so maybe they would be able to get something out of the asshole’s mouth if all three of them were together. Regardless if they did or not, though, it had been decided that Yoongi would put the male under a sleeping spell that would last 24 hours, and they would untie his bounds so he would be free to go when he awoke. You all would be long gone by that time anyway so there was no reason to keep him restrained and have him die alone in an ancient temple.

Expelling a puff of air, you returned to your spot next to Tae and resumed your silent fire stare down. Fighting off a yawn, you gave your cheek a light smack and pinched your wrist to try to wake yourself up. It had been such a long and eventful day and now that everything had settled down you were really starting to get tired. But you didn’t want to sleep until Jungkook came back.

Five minutes and a handful of yawns later, you were seriously contemplating just grabbing an equally as snoozy Tae and dragging him over to your sleeping mats. The slowly darkening sky and repetitive crackling and snapping of the fire wasn’t helping you stay awake either. You were just about to pinch yourself again when you heard your name called.

Inhaling and whipping your body around, you saw the one person you had been waiting for exiting from the temple and jogging over. Behind him, Yoongi was walking over at a much less rushed pace. Smiling you opened your arms to your boyfriend, and he didn’t even slow down as he pulled you up from the ground and smooshed you into a hug. Your surprise was fast to change into giggles and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he spun you around and nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“Ugh, you two act like it’s been weeks since you last saw each other when it’s only been like an hour,” Yoongi grumbled, though his pink eyes held fondness.

Setting you back down, Jungkook whined at his hyung, informing Yoongi that an hour was more than enough time to start missing his girl.

You had to bite your lip hard to keep yourself from grinning like an idiot when you heard him say that while Yoongi just rolled his eyes as he made his way toward the other Saeni and plopped down by Hobi. Tae, however, made a noise reminiscent of high-pitched, dying groan as he clutched at his heart and pretended to wipe away tears.

Rolling your eyes at his antics, you grabbed Jungkook’s hand and pulled him to sit down next to you.

“Any luck?” Jin called over from the other side of the fire.

Yoongi shook his head and explained that the draikensu wouldn’t break so he went ahead and put him under.

“Chungha stayed behind to undo the rope,” Jungkook said as he played with your hand in his lap.

The males across the fire nodded and went back to their conversation as the male beside you let out a long, sad sigh.

You twisted to poke his thigh with your free hand. “What’s wrong?”

He continued to look down at your hand as he said, “I promised you I’d take you to the cliff tonight and I even had hyung help me set up some stuff, but then everything with Chim hyung happened and now Ilto’s crying so hard and I’m just… I’m sorry.”

You nudged him with your shoulder. “Awww, it’s alright, it’s not your fault. Besides, we can still kinda watch the sunset from here.”

“I know, but… you were so excited, so I’m sorry.”

“For Exia’s sake, would you stop apologizing!?” You laughed lightly and nudged him harder so he would look at you. “It’s okay. I promise.”

You could hear Tae making more dying noises, but you chose to ignore them in favor of smiling at your boyfriend, who continued to pout.

Sticking your tongue out at him, you teased, “You’re such a big baby sometimes.”

Instantly, his demeanor changed, and he started protesting that he was, in fact, not a baby.

Giving yourself a mental pat on the back, you laughed at how worked up he was getting when Yoongi interrupted his “I’m a big boy not a baby rant.”

“Why does it matter if Ilto’s crying?”

Jungkook quirked a brow at his brother. “Uh, because everything is going to be wet now hyung.”

“I could tell she was going to cry earlier so I put a shield over everything. You literally watched me do it, dumbass.” The magic user rolled his petal pink eyes as Jungkook straightened.

“Wait, so-”

“Yes, everything should still be dry. Now hurry up and take your girl there before you miss the damn sunset.”

Before you could think, Jungkook hauled your ass to your feet and started running, dragging you behind him. As you concentrated on not tripping at the speed Jungkook was forcing you to move at, you noticed a blue glow flaring up behind you.

“So you don’t get wet on the way!” Yoongi called after you both.

“Thanks, hyung!” Jungkook yelled back, not breaking a stride.

He must’ve put a shield over both of our heads… thank you, you kind sir!

“Come on!” Jungkook urged you faster as you began dashing through the trees.

“I can’t run as fast as you, you buttmuncher!”

With an impatient noise, your boyfriend stopped suddenly and hoisted you over his shoulders then took off running again, this time at a faster pace as you shrieked and laughed and did your best to keep your head from bouncing around.

Within minutes, you arrived at the same cliff he had taken you to before. As he stepped out form the trees, you had expected your jaw to drop again because of the spectacular view, but this time your mouth was open because of what was waiting for you at the edge of the cliff.

Jungkook gently placed you on your feet and nervously stepped away to gauge your reaction as you slowly walked forward through the rain. You took in the pillows and blankets laying on top of what looked like a fluffy mattress pad, providing cushion and comfort from the rocky ground. In the middle was a hollowed-out rock holding a bundle of your favorite flowers, and next to them was a stunning crystal roughly the size of your palm.

With your mouth agape, you blinked and looked back to Jungkook who was fidgeting and rubbing the back of his neck.

“You did all this for me?” You asked in absolute shock.

“Um, y-yeah, with hyung’s help. We had that stuff in Yoongi’s magic locker thing I’ve told you about, and I overheard you tell Tae those are your favorite flowers a while ago…”

Your heart swelled and you couldn’t help yourself from rushing over to the boy and tackling him into a big hug.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!”

“You don’t have to pretend to like it if you don’t.”

You leaned back slightly with a frown and you could see that anxious nerves were still eating away at him, so you moved your hands to hold his face and stare straight into his peridot eyes. “I. Love. It. Thank you, Kookie.”

Then, you pulled him in for a kiss.

Luckily that seemed to do the trick because you could feel him relax as he cradled your head and kissed you back. As always, his mouth felt like heaven and sin combined and your head started to go dizzy. You really wouldn’t have minded staying just like that all night, but you reluctantly separated yourself, winked, and skipped back to the little set up he made.

After taking off your shoes, you nestled yourself into the blankets and pillows, noting how soft and squishy they were as you called back for him. “Hurry up or I’m gonna have to watch this awesome, rainy sunset all by myself!”

In mere seconds, he was beside you, bundling up and tugging you close. You smiled to yourself as you inhaled the scent you could never get enough of and wrapped your arm around his stomach. Your heart was pounding, and you felt so light, so so utterly light and happy as he planted a soft kiss to the top of your head. Then you both settled in and watched as the cloudy sky turned an array of colors, all mingling and intertwining in the sky as rain continued to steadily drop all around you.

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taglist: @cookied-dreams @apurpledheart @james-herondale023 @lorengarcia-yut @kittycuptea @toddsgirl27 @a-feeling-of-euphoria @treatpeoplewithkindnesshoe @kthdior @taigaajin​ @lylanie12​ @kassandravictoria​ @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore​ @xionysus​ @jihoonspout​

[keepswingin]

What about something with Wyatt and.Cobalt Silver? (I know I'm not much help)

so apparently the cobalt silver is the stuff that’s used in that part in flesh and bone in case anyone was wondering like I was lol but that’s all you really need to know for this one!

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i’m here (but don’t count on me to stay)

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There’s something about humans in their environment that makes his skin crawl.

He doesn’t like the way they eye him from their balconies, their laughter ceasing until there’s nothing but silence and hallow gazes that seem to sear his skin. He doesn’t like the way families huddle closer together as he passes, holding their children tight, because they still see him as threatening even with a grocery bag in one hand and a jug of milk clutched in the other.

He doesn’t like the teenagers that hang around the liquor stores, drinking from paper bags - whiskey mostly, he can smell it from down the street - obnoxious as they drone on and on with drunken babble no passerby listens to. He doesn’t like the loners either, the ones out in thick jackets with their hands stuffed into their pockets on a night that’s far from chilly.

Being out in a world that isn’t his, one he’s still learning about years later and still not fully used to, it puts him on edge, and the humans do nothing to make that edge any less sharp.

This place made Seabrook look like something out of a fairytale, he thinks to himself bitterly.

His phone chooses then to ring from his pocket, startling his already ansty heart. He exhales slowly as he shifts the jug of milk to his other hand, careful not to tip the grocery bag or shuffle around the donuts he had snuck in for himself with the things they had actually needed.

“Hello?” he answers as he shoves the phone beside his ear, keeping half an eye on the surrounding buildings bustling with activity around him.

“Hey,” Addison replies, and she sounds...worried? Something inside him twists suddenly, his eyes catching on a car that revs from where it sits at the light.

“You sound worried,” he tells her quietly, trying his best to keep his voice steady. He was probably overreacting because of this new city, with all these new people and all this new noise.

“Only a little,” she admits, and he can hear the pitch in the breath she releases, “are you close?”

He looks at the street sign at the corner he’s approaching - 5th Street - which is still a few roads over from where their apartment sits on 10th. He could cut through an alley, save some time, but he’s not really feeling an alley is the best way to go right now as he passes another family that goes out of their way to be away from him.

He sighs, “I’m still a few streets over.” He decides to cut right to the point. “What’s going on?”

“There was an armed robbery a few minutes ago and - “

He can’t help the scoff that escapes him. “So much for this place being safe,” he mutters.

“No city is safe,” his fiancée rebukes, a bit of an edge to her tone. He doesn’t answer, instead adjusting his grip on the milk. He should’ve gotten the half-gallon. “I’m sorry,” she says a moment later, “this place was supposed to be safe. Apparently it’s the first big crime around this place in a while so,” she trails off, and the irony isn’t lost on him.

“So we’re just lucky,” he finishes for her, and he’s successful in making her laugh at least. He smiles. There’s a cop car heading down the street, slow as it stops at the light, dark in the shadow of the full moon above. “Where was the robbery at?”

“Close enough for me to be worried that you’re out right now,” she says wryly, “they stole a bunch of stuff from the Walmart and the gas station next door. A few took off in a car, one took off on foot. The police haven’t found anyone yet.”

“Stealing from Walmart is a new low isn’t it?”

He watches as the cop car passes him, it’s tires crunching on the cracked pavement. Addison chuckles, “Were you able to get everything?”

The car makes a u-turn behind him - he can hear it, the sharp turn of the tires, the hiss of the engine - before pulling up next to him. The window rolls down, revealing an officer in his mid-forties with a goatee that’s turning grey.

“Hold on Ads,” he whispers, directing his attention to the police now rolling alongside him.

“Heading home?” the officer asks, his squadmate watching from the passenger seat.

“Late night shopping trip,” Wyatt answers with a light laugh before turning his attention back to Addison. “Sorry. Just some cops asking where I was going.”

“Why are they asking where you’re going?” He shrugs, and is hyper aware when the cop car rumbles to a stop.

“No idea.”

He keeps his voice as even as possible, not wanting to worry her more than she already is. “It’s a load of bullshit is what it is,” she responds, and it’s then that he hears boots behind him.

“Can you stop walking, wolf?” The same officer from before calls, raising his voice enough for passerby to stop and look and murmur amongst themselves.

Wyatt turns around, coming to a stop as the officers approach him. The older officer has his hands clasped together, but the younger officer - who barely looks old enough to be a cop - has his hand over something small on the back of his belt. Wyatt can’t see what it is but his heart is beating faster and faster by the minute.

“Something wrong officers?” he asks, calm and collected, Addison asking him what’s wrong with increasing panic from the phone line. “I’m just trying to get home to my fiancée for some late night movies.”

“Do you have your ID on you?” the older officer questions.

Inside he curses himself, because of course the one time he didn’t bring it with him he needed it - he hated carrying a wallet with a passion, something he still didn’t enjoy about human life one bit. He didn’t like anything weighing him down, in the forest that wasn’t the way things were done, but outside it, humans enjoyed carrying more than they needed.

Wyatt’s heart is thrashing against his ribcage now, his moonstone humming with more urgency, and something inside of him telling him to run. To leave, to get as far away as possible, because these officers were barking up the wrong tree, and he was at the center of it.

“No sir, I don’t,” he replies, “didn’t think I’d need it for a run to the store a few corners over.”

“Wyatt,” Addison begs from the phone, her voice crackling against his ear, horror stories from her father and from the history books flashing through her head. No police were good when it came to werewolves, or zombies, or anyone different.

He hears it before he sees it.

His eyes snap to the younger officer, to the thing he pulls from his belt.

It’s a small container, something printed on the side of the metal that he can’t see, and then it’s spraying in his direction, and even with the dodge he uses with a jolt of power from his moonstone, whatever it is that comes from the container catches the corner of his elbow and then his skin is on fire.

He cries out, the grocery bag falling to the ground, the jug of milk breaking open against rough cement, his phone skidding across the sidewalk.

He reaches for his elbow with his opposite hand, his fingers lightly brushing against the skin that’s bright red and burning silently, and his fingers begin burning before he can pull them back fast enough.

“Goddamn it!” he hears the older officer shout, two pairs of boots advancing toward him, but the fire is twisting and thrashing like his heart is, and when someone’s hands go to grab at the excat same elbow that’s burning, he growls and shoves them off.

His eyes flash brightly as he moves away from the men, but they push forward, their hands still reaching.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” the older officer contuines, his voice muffled in Wyatt’s roaring ears.

“It’s a fucking werewolf, no matter what we did it was just going to attack us anyway!”

One hand is successful in closing around his elbow, but that just closes the fire in, drags it across his skin, and he growls again and pulls back, but before he can get far there’s someone on top of him, attempting to pin him to the ground.

That same something from before is sprayed at his back, catching arms and sinking through his shirt to the skin underneath, fire everywhere, blossoming and igniting and rippling. His moonstone hums angrily and flashes bright blue as he pushes the men off him with little difficulty, and then stumbling to his feet and running, power flowing through his veins and making his legs pump faster.

He needs to escape, he needs to go, to run, because he doesn’t know what will happen later, but he also doesn’t want to find out what happens now if he sticks around. Nothing good, his brain supplies, if the fire still racing across his skin was any indication.

The pain distracts him from hearing the cock of a pistol, the action of a bullet being slotted into place from inside the gun.

He doesn’t hear the bullet.

He feels it, something rupturing his skin and mixing with the fire, and sees it, when the bullet brings him to a sudden stop, looking down and seeing dark red seep from the middle of his chest.

He brings his hands to the red, pressing his palms flat against it before pulling them back, almost in disbelief when he sees them slick with dark red liquid that should be inside his body, not outside it. He hears shouting, and screaming, and so many other noises, and before he knows what’s happening there’s the shattering sound of another bullet unloading into his back, and another, and another.

His moonstone hums, louder in his ears than the noise around him, and then everything goes black.

[lotornomiko]

Light Grasping Darkness Chapter Six (of Six. Work safe)

I only tweaked it, but I feel this is the worst chapter out of the story’s six chapters...Maybe someday I will try to go over it, and do a total overhaul....My main complain with going over it NOW< years later, is...i feel like this particular chapter relied more on telling instead of showing. I feel like the quality took a nose dive in comparison to the first five chapters...

Still hoping to someday get the sequel story out!

Mary Margaret had been the one to suggest that they all make themselves comfortable. The others could only agree, what with one look at Emma and the exhaustion she had tried unsuccessfully to keep hidden. She had almost flushed in embarrassment, knowing what a sore sight she must make. With her blonde hair wild and tangled, actually swaying on her feet, with bruises exposed on what skin wasn't covered by the shirt borrowed from Hook. No one was asking why she was practically naked, nor were they asking why certain bruises looked more like bites given in the heat of passion. But Emma knew what they must assume, and it was worse because they were half right. She had had sex with the pirate, had in effect bought them time to do what was needed with her body. They just didn't know that she had enjoyed herself for the most part, that Emma would do it all over again if the choice was presented.

Wildly embarrassed, she pulled free of Mary Margaret's arms, before her mother could stop her. It was a mistake, her body rapidly giving in now that she had exhausted the adrenaline she had been running on for the past hour. With a muted cry, her legs started to give out from under her, and not even Emma's determination and strength of will could let her catch herself in time.

Hook was suddenly there, his arms around her. Righting her fall, holding her steady. Emma knew it was weakness, but she leaned into him anyway. Gratitude flushing through her, Emma pressing her back into his front. For one frozen second, they had that moment, no danger or dire desperate circumstance between them.

And then David was there, the ever over protective father. Not that Emma had much experience with the man in this way. And certainly she had never had a man with her that had made her father feel the need to glare at and threaten. Emma wasn't sure she liked this side of him, and she certainly didn't like the fact that Mary Margaret was once again pulling her from Hook's arms.

"Keep your hand off of my daughter." David spoke in a low, threatening voice, his hands curling momentarily into fists.

Emma gave a side long glance at Hook, expecting the pirate to smirk and say something provocative. Something that would make the situation worse, with lewd comments that weren't all fanciful insinuations drawing David into another brawl. But Hook surprised her, merely giving David a dark glower of his own, jaw clenching noticeably as he took a step back.

"He was just...."

"I know what he was just trying to do." David interrupted Emma, never taking his eyes off of the pirate. Emma frowned, wanting to say something more, not knowing how to diffuse the situation, and feeling oddly compelled to defend the pirate.

Her mouth opened and closed several times, Emma wanting to say that they were wrong about Hook. But was it the truth, or just her mixed up feelings getting in the way? Was Emma already forgetting the events of the day, and a good portion of its night, had all been sent into motion because of Hook's desires? Because he had sought the dagger, and had used it to kill Gold, and she didn't even know why! Had he really just been power hungry like they all had first assumed, or was there something more to it then that?

Emma shifted to turn and look at Hook, her eyes troubled. He looked at her, and it wasn't the Dark One that looked back, nor was it the man she had spent hours having sex with. It wasn't even the agonizing Hook, the pirate simply looking cold. As if he was locking down his thoughts and feelings, hiding his true self behind a wall.

This Hook was a stranger, and this too was their reality. Because they hadn't been friends before this had all started, had actually used and manipulated the hell out of each other while in the fairy tale world. With a thumping of her disappointed heart, Emma realized they didn't know nearly enough about each other, had only that wild passion between them. Without the threat of their life and death circumstances, it suddenly seemed insane to think she could have wanted the chance for more.

Emma had thought she hadn't been confusing lust and love, but now she wasn't so sure. Now Emma was realizing she had been so addled brain by all that had been happening, so mesmerized by the dark seductive beauty that was a cursed Hook, that she had been thoroughly lost in a fantasy that couldn't possible be real. Because here in her parent's apartment, with David glowering, Hook distant, and Mary Margaret holding her, reality was hitting. She was a mother for God's sake. She had commitments and responsibilities, a life of her own. She couldn't, shouldn't be falling for a pirate, wanting something more from him than what they had already shared.

Her feelings didn't give a damn about the couldn't and shouldn't, about the reality of just how unsuitable a partner Hook would make. Her feelings just cared that she had come alive in his arms, that Emma had finally let down some of her walls, to actually feel something primal and wild.

It was extremely tempting, wanting to feel that way again. And if he had allowed just one uncertain emotion to leak into his expression, Emma would have thrown caution to the wind, and gone for him. But he didn't, so she didn't, allowing Mary Margaret to half carry her over to the couch.

Hiding her upset hopefully better than her exhaustion, Emma sank down into the cushions. A blanket was brought forth, Emma using it to cover her legs and half of her waist. She was simply too tired to consider a shower, and to change into her own clothing. Emma had a feeling it would be days before she even tried to get up from this comfortable piece of furniture, her body ready with a petition of aches and pains to make her stay right where she was.

Mary Margaret joined her on the couch. David sort of perched on the arm rest, keeping a hand near Emma's shoulder, but his eyes were still set on Hook. The Mother Superior got to work in the kitchen, brewing Emma a cup of tea, which the blonde woman accepted with a grateful smile.

"Thanks." Emma said, watching as the Mother Superior took the seat opposite the couch. She seemed unconcerned of putting her back to the Dark One, smiling soothingly at Emma.

"There's a pinch of magic in that tea." She said, holding up a hand to stave off Emma's alarmed protests. "Just a bit of healing herbs, that will work wonders to soothe and mend your injuries."

Again that embarrassed warmth flooded her cheeks, Emma taking a quick sip of the tea to avoid commenting. She needed the healing, but Emma didn't like that everyone knew, that everyone was making assumptions about the type of injuries she might have.

There was a few minutes of silence in which Emma realized Hook wasn't joining them in the sitting area. He stood on the fringe, a clear outsider looking in. David probably would have attacked him if Hook had tried to come near, his dislikeso apparent, the man in no way ready to welcome the pirate as part of their group.

It was just another reason why Hook wouldn't fit in her life. Her parents didn't approve, David could barely control himself to pretend to be civil. Emma inwardly sighed, but out loud her voice was steady, the woman asking them again to tell the story of what had happened.

What followed was an adventure, Mary Margaret talking about how relieved she had been when David had woken up after Hook had sent him flying into a tree. Emma's father had been beyond livid when he had learned Emma had basically sacrificed herself to give Mary Margaret the chance to get away. And he hadn't even known the nature of the distraction his daughter had tempted Hook with!

Emma realized with shock that David had taken one look at his daughter's disheveled, near naked appearance, and had assumed the worst. Even without Mary Margaret telling him the explicit details of what she had seen Emma do, David had put together a nightmare of a situation. It was no wonder David hadn't been able to control himself, why he had attacked Hook, why he kept on bristling with anger even now. Worst yet, neither Emma nor Hook had explained what really had happened, and unless the pirate chose now to break his silence, David was going to continue to be kept in the dark. For there was no way Emma could talk about what had happened, not to her own father, and not with Hook standing there!

She might have been willing to tell Mary Margaret. She might yet still tell her mother at least some of what had happened. Some but not all, as some things were best kept private. That included her feelings, her wicked wishes, and unrealistic longings.

"It took all the magic dust in the mines, along with nearly all my fairies to mount a working offensive against the evil queens." The Mother Superior was saying, and Emma realized she had zoned out of part of the story.

"But how did you know you were needed?" Emma asked, puzzled and hoping it wasn't something that had already been covered.

"Your mother has friends in high places." David murmured in answer, which only succeeded in confusing Emma more.

Mary Margaret actually chuckled at her daughter's confused look. "Disney didn't get all the details wrong."

"And Cora couldn't shoot down every bird that took flight in the sky." added the Mother Superior.

Emma blinked repeatedly. "Are you saying you can talk to birds?"

"Is that any harder to believe then the magic you've already seen?" Mary Margaret asked with a gentle smile.

"When you put it like that, no...." Emma admitted slowly. So her mother could talk to birds, and possibly furry small creatures. She'd really have to look at Henry's book, study up on the fairy tales that were actually part of her birth world's history.

"It was a relief when we finally got the dagger from Cora." Mary Margaret said, to fill the silence that had formed. "At once we put an end to the command she had given to the Dark One, but it had taken time to catch and subdue the queens."

"How much time?" Emma demanded.

"No more than two hours." The Mother Superior said. "It took time to enchant the collars that would strip the evil queens of all their magic."

"It was even harder to get close enough to put those collars on them!" David added, and Mary Margaret actually groaned at the memory.

Emma glanced at her mother. "Did they hurt you?"

"We're fine." Her mother assured her. "It was nothing the Blue Fairy's magic couldn't heal."

Wondering how much of the Mother Superior's tea her parents had had to drink, Emma looked up at her father. "Where are Cora and Regina now?"

"If they're smart, they'll have crossed the boundary."

"The boundary!?" Emma exclaimed.

"They were given a choice. To stay in Storybrooke without their magic, and face the wrath of the townspeople...or to risk making a life in the outside lands, without memory of who they really are."

Emma couldn't help the shiver that went through her, both choices seeming terrible. How much worse would it seem to Cora and Regina, women who had prided themselves on their magic and power, their ability to bully and terrorize a whole kingdom of people. People who might be quick to repay the favor, now that the strong had become the weak.

"And what will you do with that?" Emma asked, having finished her tea. The Mother Superior looked down at the dagger, actually caressed fingernails over the name carved into the blade. Hook immediately tensed, as though he could feel that touch on his body, which turned Emma's gaze troubled.

"I think it should be up to you." The Mother Superior announced, rising from her seat to walk towards Emma.

"Me?" Emma squeaked out in surprise. This she hadn't been expecting, but it was welcome all the same. "Why though?" The question came out wary, Emma not yet reaching for the dagger that the Mother Superior was holding out to her.

"You did so much."

"We all did." Emma protested. "Every one had a role to play, a part in defeating Regina and Cora."

"True, but you are the Savior. And you sacrificed so much this day." The Mother Superior's reminder was gentle, but it brought the embarrassed heat flooding through her. Emma nearly mumbled something about it not being much of a sacrifice, but a literal biting of her tongue kept her from making such a shameful admission.

"Once again you helped save us." Mary Margaret said, and she shone with how proud she was of her daughter.

"This town would have been lost, ruined under the rule of two evil queens." The Mother Superior added. "Take the dagger, it is yours."

Aware of Hook, his dark gaze not on her, but on the dagger, Emma hesitated. "Can...can you give us a moment?"

"A moment..." Mary Margaret frowned, but David was already shaking his head no.

"That is not a good idea."

In exasperation, Emma grabbed at the dagger the Mother Superior held out to her. "I'll be fine!" She snapped, and practically waved the dagger in her agitation. "With this at my command, he won't be able to hurt me...."

"There are more ways to hurt than just physical..." Mary Margaret murmured.

"I know what I am doing." Emma insisted, and gave her mother a pleading look. "Just let me...look, just five, no ten minutes. That's all I ask."

It was clear they didn't want to, but eventually, under Emma's relentless insistence, Mary Margaret guided a still protesting David out of the apartment. The Mother Superior followed behind them, and then Emma was alone with the pirate.

"So what ARE you doing?" Hook asked, and Emma flushed in response. It figured he'd be the reason behind the cause of her blushing this night. Hook AND the things they had done, together and to one another. Things her parents and the Mother Superior suspected, things they actually felt bad because of.

"Time is a wasting." Hook added when Emma did nothing but fidget in place, her fingers playing with blade in nervous agitation. A sharp hiss issued out of Hook, when she caressed fingers over the inscription in the metal. Emma looked down, and saw his name, his REAL name, engraved there.

"Killian Jones." She said out loud, and felt the magic take hold. Hook seemed to freeze, and for one second the stranger was gone, a frantic, hurt man gazing out in his place.

"Emma, don't." A desperate plea, and one Emma ALMOST listened too. But the power was too much, her need too great. Emma HAD to know, and she realized using the dagger was probably the only way she'd ever get the truth out of Hook.

"Tell me why." She said at last, her voice soft but commanding. "Why you did what you did. Why you went after Gold and his power."

"It was NEVER about his power!" Hook all but snarled. "I just wanted him dead!"

"But...but why?" She asked, doing her best not to flinch in place in response to the way that Hook had shouted at her.

"Why do you think?" He spoke in terse tones. "For revenge."

"Revenge?" echoed Emma, and her mind started to take dark turns, wondering at what Gold could have possibly done to make Hook embrace such a killing vendetta.

"Her name was Milah." Hook's tone softened slightly with the name issued. "She was the love of my life."

Emma's lips had parted in surprise, Hook having said the last thing she had been expecting. Her shock showed, Hook giving her a bitter look. "Is it that surprising, that I could have been in love once?"

Again she turned red, Emma shaking her head no. "What....what happened to her?" She asked, after a few seconds of tense silence.

"Rumplestiltskin killed her." And from there, the whole story came tumbling out, Emma learning about the woman that Hook had loved. The MARRIED woman that he had run off with, and about the coward who had risen to power, and then murdered his cheating wife in a fit of insane jealousy.

Hook kept the tragic past short and to the point, only elaborating when Emma asked him too. She didn't ask nearly enough, frankly too shocked and horrified by what she did hear. She was given a brief history on Hook's quest to find something, anything that could ruin, even destroy Rumplestiltskin. She learned Hook was a lot older than he looked, having spent several hundred years in Neverland. She found out he had returned to the Enchanted Kingdoms just in time for Regina to cast the curse, Hook quickly allying himself with Cora, all in the hope that the Queen of Hearts would one day make good on her promise to bring him to the land that Rumplestiltskin had fled too.

But the single most important, most relieving thing she was told, was that Hook had gone after the dagger without knowing the full repercussions of it's use. That he had been tricked by Regina and Cora, the two allowing him to read a map that would lead to the dagger. They then had pretended not to need him, had gone so far as to knock him out when he had tried to insist on being part of their scheme. They had watched and waited, letting him find and dig up the dagger, and ultimately they had kept Emma and her parents at bay long enough for Hook to stab the cursed blade into Rumplestiltskin's heart.

Hook hadn't gone after Rumplestiltskin because he was greedy for power. It was simply a revenge that had gone horribly wrong, Hook paying a steep price for his hate. Emma couldn't entirely fault him for it, understanding that revenge was a negative but powerful motivating force. And love lost bloody hurt, no matter the circumstances that had it taken from someone.

The painful truth, as awful as it was, became the deciding factor in what Emma would next do. She glanced down at the blade, at his name inscribed there, then bid Hook to approach her. His stiff, awkward way of moving spoke strongly that he was resenting the order, Hook angry that he had been forced to share such a private, personal pain. He loomed over her, his eyes absolutely furious, not flinching as Emma reached up to cup his face, the dagger laying across her lap.

For one moment, she just touched him, staring into his eyes. Now was not the time to speak of uncertain feelings, to wonder if fantasies could be made real. He was angry, and she was tired, and neither could afford to build the other's hopes up. And still Emma had to remind herself of what could not be, to tell herself not to hope that they could have anything more than a quick fling. Lust wasn't love, and Emma was too scared of being burned by the attempt to hope for, to try for more.

Telling herself she would get over this hurtful infatuation, that it had been nothing more than mutual insanity, her voice still broke when she talked. "Take the dagger, Hook." Emma urged. "Take it and be free."

His look of clear surprise was a bitter reward, reminding Emma that Hook didn't know her any better than she him. Emma watched him first hesitate, then snatch at the dagger, as though he feared she would change her mind in the seconds gone by. He stared at the blade, actually closed his fingers around it, then shimmered. Emma blinked her eyes, and found Hook had vanished, and she wasn't entirely surprised that he hadn't bothered with goodbyes or thank yous.

Sighing, she fell back against the couch cushions. The time she had asked for was almost up, and Emma wasn't looking forward to her parent's return. To David's predictable anger over what she had done over the fact she had given up the dagger and set Hook free. But she would endure it, for even a father's anger was a gift to marvel at, to a woman who had almost died and lost everything this night.

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The End of the first story in the series.....

[invaderdoom78]

SFW Alphabet: Wizard x Wolf au

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Lucian is just a big ol’ teddy bear (in private at least) and he loves to come up from behind to pull Barty into a hug and nuzzle into either his neck, the side of his face, or his hair or really anything he can reach at the moment. Despite the fact that he acts like the overly abundant displays of affection are an annoyance to him at times, Barty loves every moment of it.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) Their friendship would start out very casually and was probably started when the two of them accidentally bumped into each other and slowly evolved from there.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) Lucians favorite cuddle position is having Barty sitting in his lap as he holds him from behind making it easier for him the nuzzle into the crook of his wizard's neck. Coincidentally this is also Barty’s favorite cuddle position as it gives him some freedom as his arms are free, but also gives him a sense of security with Lucians arms wrapped around him

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) Lucian has no intentions of settling down so long as Viktor and his coven are still alive and a threat to his kind. Barty on the other hand is a bit more willing to settle down, but isn’t quite ready to just yet.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) The only thing that could end these two’s relationship is death since this is the first time Barty has ever admitted he was in love or has felt like he wasn’t just being pitied by the person that loves him. While Lucian has already lost one love he doesn't want to lose another.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) Since both Lucian and Barty have both supposedly died in the past they’d never be able to officially get married and considering that the Lycans are at war with the vampires they may not even get to have of ceremony of any type, but they will definitely exchange rings or something of that kind with each other.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) Between the childhood neglect, dementors, the Imperius curse, and the isolation his father forced on him Barty’s not always in the best mental state and there are days when he’s not exactly needy, but definitely needs more attention than normal and just needs Lucian to have a bit more patience with him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) Since Lucian’s body generates more heat than most people’s he gives the best hugs ‘cause they’re always nice and warm.  

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) Both are pretty apprehensive about saying I love you at first, but once the floodgates have been opened nothing is going to stop them from saying it to the other.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) Barty can get jealous very easily and at first he despised the fact that Lucian wears Sonja’s necklace, but eventually got over it after the reason behind it was explained. Lucian on the other hand is very secure in their relationship.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) Barty isn’t the biggest kisser but does enjoy planting the occasional kiss on his Lycans cheek. Lucian loves kisses, gentle, passionate, and everything in between.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) After losing Sonja and their unborn child Lucian would love to start a family with his wizard. Unfortunately, starting a family is the last thing that’s on Barty’s mind because he’s afraid that he doesn’t know how to be a parent and is afraid that he’s going to turn out to be just like his own father.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Mornings tend to be a bit lazy for the two, spending as much time they can cuddling together before they have to get up and start getting ready for the day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Barty doesn’t really like to sleep as he’s plagued by nightmares of his time in Azkaban, fortunately he was able to brew a potion that suppresses his dreams unfortunately it doesn’t always work. Lucian on the other hand, spends a lot of nights working on either how to end Viktors war but that doesn’t mean he and Barty are apart as the wizard would much rather spend the night time hours helping Lucian and keeping his mind busy.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) They both definitely have secrets that they’d rather stay buried.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) Barty definitely has a bit of a temper and has a tendency to say things he doesn’t mean, thankfully since Lucian was once a slave, he has learned not to take things like that to heart and is always waiting with open arms once his wizard has calmed down.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) Lucian has a lot of things on his mind so he tends to forget important things from time to time and it does upset Barty because it makes him feel like the lycan isn’t as invested in their relationship as he is. Of course, Lucian feels guilty about upsetting Barty as and does whatever he can to make up for it.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) Barty’s favorite moment in the relationship is when he realized that Lucians feelings for him were genuine and not just pity. Lucians was when he knew that he was still able to feel love for another person.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) The moment Lucian catches a whiff that someone is even thinking about hurting Barty, wizard or otherwise, you best believe he’s going feral and isn’t going to end his rampage until he knows for sure his wizard is safe. During this time I doubt Barty will be allowed to leave the lycans lair, no matter how many times he threatens Lucian or the others.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) Barty isn’t used to putting in effort for anyone other than his old master so he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s trying, but things don’t always turn out the way he planned thankfully Lucian always appreciates the effort.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) Barty has a tendency to keep things bottled up for far longer than anyone should just like Lucian does.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Neither one are overly concerned about their appearance, but definitely want to look pleasing to the other.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) This is the first time Barty has ever actually been in love and if Lucian was to ever leave him, he would be completely devastated and unsure of if he’d be able to move on. Where as on the outside Lucian would appear to be the same, but on the inside he’d be numb for the longest time.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) Lucian has mixed feelings about the dark mark on Barths arm. On the one hand he’s glad his wizard had something he was so passionate about, but on the other he doesn’t agree with their motives and logic. Barty is very ticklish so there are times when Lucians beard goes from being a pleasant tingle to him trying to get out of the lycans hold as he tries to catch his breath through his laughter.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) I couldn’t for the life of me think of anything for this one. If anyone else can think of something I’d be grateful.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Lucian likes to sleep so that he’s between Barty and the door so that way if they were ever ambushed he’d be able to more easily protect the other from whatever the attack may bring.

[welllpthisishappening]

Do you think that Emma and Henry made Killian watch just like all of the different Peter Pan movies just to make fun of Hook

Hello, anon! I’m sorry this has been sitting in my inbox for several millennia, but work has been nuts and this answer required some words. So here we have the following: some serious Captain Cobra, a slightly snarky adult Henry, GRANDFATHER KILLIAN, my refusal to acknowledge the timeline of season seven and fluff. Just like. Fluff. It’s only 2K! That’s like a drabble!

“Killian!”

He snaps his head up, glancing at his, now, wide-open front door and Henry is out of breath. It takes Killian, approximately, half a second for several different and increasingly horrible ideas to populate every single corner of his mind. They range from rather drastic magic to slightly violent and possibly drunk dwarves, to another realm they’d never heard of before and Henry’s knuckles have gone white where they’re wrapped around the side of the door frame.

“Henry, what—“

Killian doesn’t get the rest of the sentence out. It is, he assumes, because there’s a kid slamming into his leg and tugging on the front of his shirt and Lucy does not sound as if there is a catastrophe looming over them.

If anything, she sounds somewhere between thrilled and overexcited, a strange mix that’s also a bit like a memory because the grown man still trying to catch his breath a few feet away was always like that when he found out something new.

“Papa, papa, papa,” Lucy chants, coming dangerously close to jumping on his right foot. He’s not wearing socks.

“What? What? What?”

“We’ve found a new one.”

Killian’s brows furrow, confusion rattling down his spine until it evolves into something much closer to understanding and he really did believe this tradition was over when Henry left home. That, however, does not appear to be the case and now he’s brought in fresh recruits.

With emotion-based titles.

And it’s only a little strange — mostly because Hope hasn’t entirely gotten around to the actual challenge of talking quite yet, has seemed fairly content to gurgle and mumble and point out her wants and needs with slightly chubby fits — but the timelines don’t really matter and Lucy had decided on it and he’s nothing if entirely incapable of saying no to her.

As Emma is very quick to point out.

She usually smiles when she says it though, so. Killian assumes it’s a wash.

Lucy’s foot lands on his.

“It’s really good,” she adds, hardly able to get one word out before she’s moving on to the next one. “The best one. Dad said!”

“Did he just?”

Henry makes a noise, a wave of his hand that might be an agreement or just giving in to the exhaustion that’s obvious in every inch of him.

“If you stand up, it’s going to be easier to breathe again,” Killian mutters, a hand falling on Lucy’s shoulders and Henry’s eyes narrow.

“I’m fine.”

“Oh aye, aye, sure you are. Would you like to tell that to your lungs?”

Henry scowls. “Please, you don’t know anything about lungs.”

“Are we under attack or no?”

“Absolutely not.”

Killian hums, fingers curling around Lucy’s wrist now because she’s genuinely threatening to rip the bottom of his shirt. “You know,” he says, dropping down so he’s eye level with her and he isn’t all that surprised to find that her eyes have gone wide, “you are incredibly similar to your father.”

Lucy’s eyes threaten to fall out of her head. That’s got a bad connotation, but Killian’s mind is, admittedly, still preoccupied with threats and curses and Emma’s at the office, Hope asleep, hopefully, upstairs.

If Henry woke up Hope, Killian may be the one doing the cursing. Emma will absolutely help.

They’ve reached some kind of teething stage that’s strangely similar to torture and he’s having a hard time staying upright at this point.

“Yeah?” Lucy breathes, any bit of negative thought disappearing from Killian’s mind as soon as the question is out of her mouth. His eyes flit towards Henry, an arm wrapped around his middle and breathing starting to return to normal.

Killian nods, tapping the bridge of her nose with her finger. She scrunches it. And that is impossibly, completely, all, Emma. Maybe he doesn’t have to sleep right now. “Oh, aye,” he nods, “far too many limbs for you to control, little Miss Mills.”

She giggles, smile moving across her face so quickly Killian’s starting to wonder if that’s, simply, her general state of being. It’s a much nicer thought than the other ones. And even better when she flings her arms around her shoulders, making it a little difficult to stay balanced, but that may be the few hours of sleep he’s been averaging and Henry, finally, closes the door behind him.

“I feel like I should resent that,” he murmurs. There’s something in his hand. It is decidedly rectangle-shaped.

Killian arches an eyebrow. “I never said it was a bad thing. I am simply pointing out that the lass appears to have inherited several of your mannerisms. That’s all.”

“Yuh huh.”

“You almost sound like you don’t believe me.”

“I can’t imagine why that is,” Henry laughs, shaking his head like that will help the overall state of his lungs and Killian can hardly open his mouth before the kid who isn’t really a kid anymore swings his legs over the back of the couch, falling onto the cushions with a rather loud thump.

“If you wake up your sister, I’m going to tell your mother on you.”

Henry props himself up on his elbows, an incredulous look coloring his features. “Which one?”

“Either or.”

“That’s cheating.”

“That’s part and parcel of being a pirate.”

“Ah, you’ve circled us back around here, actually.”

Killian hums, a quick nod that’s partially agreement and partially an attempt to get Lucy to loosen her hold on his neck. “Aye, I figured.”

“Look at you, all perceptive. Kind of, I mean. Did you really think we were under some kind of attack?”

“I’m going to blame the lack of sleep. And whoever taught you that you can just open doors.”

“Probably you, honestly.”

He can feel the color rise in his cheeks, that same emotion that had rattled around his spine quickly evolving into something far more emotional and one side of Henry’s mouth tugs up. “Ah, that may be true,” Killian concedes. “How long has it been since this has happened?”

“I honestly don’t know. Like—years? The curses make it difficult to keep track of all of it. But, uh, well—“ Henry may be blushing now too, another bit of Emma in a moment that she will be loathe to have missed. “We were in the library and Luce found it.”

He brandishes the rectangle, which is, in fact, a DVD, the smile going full-blown as Lucy starts talking a mile a minute again.

“It’s another version of you, Papa,” she cries, back to the tugging and the fabric yanking and there’s a tear in the bottom of his shirt that was not there a few minutes before. “There’s no talking in this one, though!”

Killian blinks. “That’s not how those work though.”

“Oh modern man of the world, huh?” Henry chuckles, but the sound disappears as soon as Killian widens his eyes. “Ok, c’mon, don’t ground me or anything.” 

He grits his teeth when the silence stretches, but Killian had also gotten very good at that face when Henry was a lad, a look practiced on crew and pirates and several hundred slightly terrified individuals, all fearful of what Captain Hook could and would do to them. It evolved over the years, not quite as hard as it had been in the Enchanted Forest with threats of villainy lapping at the corners of his consciousness, but it still brokered no argument, and Henry, even a questionable number of years after his first insistence that we have to watch Peter Pan, honestly, for like science or something, is still susceptible to it.

“Pirate,” Henry mumbles again, and that time it’s Killian’s turn to laugh.

“There’s no talking in this one?”

“Nah. I didn’t even know there were more versions of Peter Pan for us to watch. Seriously. But like I said, Luce found this one and I looked it up and it’s like—from 1924 and JM Barrie was seriously involved in it and—“

“—That doesn’t make me feel much better,” Killian cuts in, “the ponce clearly didn’t know what he was talking about.”

“So you’ve got no interest in it, whatsoever?”

Killian sighs — Lucy already muttering pleas to watch the move and please, Papa, please wraps its way around him and hangs in the air, as if it’s taunting him and maybe that was the threat after all. But he’d always given in anyway, even when Henry was young, mostly because it made him laugh and it made Emma smile, curled into his side on the couch that’s since been replaced several times.

He’s glad there’s another version.

He’s sure there are sword fighting inconsistencies he can point out.

“Put it on,” Killian says, and Henry grins, already halfway to the TV.

And he doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until his eyes snap open, a set of impossibly familiar legs standing in front of him. He doesn’t have to look up to know Emma’s smiling, the steady rise and fall of Lucy’s body against Killian’s side.

She’s got her head propped on his thigh, her legs stretched out across the entire couch, with her feet on Henry’s lap. Henry is asleep too. The TV has turned off on its own.

“Did I walk into a time warp?” Emma asks lightly, Hope in her arms and already toying with the chain around her neck.

Killian blinks away the last few vestiges of sleep, tongue darting between his lips. He’s fairly certain he doesn’t imagine the way Emma’s eyes fall towards that, which, well, they’ll have to discuss that later, maybe after she’s slept as well, but for now he’s trying to gain his bearings and he doesn’t remember seeing much of the movie.

All he knows is that Captain Hook did, in fact, have very poor form when holding a sword.

Henry is snoring.

“How long have you been home?” Killian murmurs, careful not to move too much and wake up Lucy.

“Not long. I walked in, found this little party happening and a still sleeping baby upstairs and then Hope and I finished your movie.”

“Did you?” Emma nods, dropping onto the arm of the couch so her fingers can find the hair at the back of Killian’s head. “You’re going to make me fall asleep again, love.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not if you keep doing that.”

“Charmer.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, twisting his head to kiss the inside of her wrist and it’s…nice. It’s more than that, but he’s still half asleep and a giant pushover for any member of his family and that’s a fairly fantastic word.

For Captain Hook.

And any version that appears on his TV screen.

“You comfortable, babe?”

“The lass does have a tendency to dig her chin into my thigh, but other than that—“ He title his head up, Emma still smiling and Killian would not be surprised if the green in her gaze is, in fact, getting stronger. Like it’s powered on love or something. Clap if you believe in Emma Swan’s magic.

That’s the wrong version of Peter Pan.

“Good,” Emma whispers. “Although I am a little annoyed I didn’t get invited to the watch party.”

“A grave mistake, Swan.”

“Honestly. So, uh, pizza or Chinese while I make you watch the cartoon later as payback?”

“Chinese,” Henry mumbles, cracking open one eye when Emma’s gasp seems to fly out of her. His lips quirk up. That may be a Killian thing. The thought makes his heart leap into his throat. “You guys talk really loud and I learned not to interrupt the flirting when I was a kid, so…”

Emma groans, but Killian’s kind of impressed and—“Chinese does sound good, love.”

She narrows her eyes. And kisses the top of his head, moving Hope into his arms, an exchange he takes gratefully. Even when Lucy’s chin presses into his leg. Hard.

“How many egg rolls do you want?”

She orders far too many, and they don’t all fit on the couch perfectly, but there’s a comfort to it that almost makes the state of Captain Hook’s mustache in the cartoon bearable and Killian points out the inaccuracies in Neverland’s geography, a rapt audience with wide eyes and Emma curled against his side.

[fablehaftbios]

                         ⊰  Timothy ≬ (40) 25≬ Faun ≬Dream ⊱                       ⊰   Curator  ≬Pansexual≬ Open  ⊱

Biography:

Once upon a time....

Timothy was born into a traveling troupe, a mix of Faun and their families. Many Faun preferred to go their own way alone, to be ultimately free and not be bound to anything or anyone; but not every person enjoyed being the lonely wolf on the road. 

The troupe wasn’t large, fifteen people including the children. They were a mix of merchants, minstrels, painters, writers, musicians, and actors. Depending on where they went they would either try to sell and buy things that were special for a specific reason, sing for money, sell paintings or guides including maps, or performed short plays or puppet shows for children. 

Truthfully, they didn’t excel at any of those things but since they mostly entertained smaller villages the expectations for entertainment were much lower. 

Their life wasn’t always sunshine in the most literal of terms. Traveling during winter and during heavy rain wasn’t fun. Sometimes they had the luxury to wait out the bad weather but other times they would be paid for playing at a harvest festival or something similar, and would have to move forward no matter what. Then there were also places that distrusted traveling troupes or Faun specifically, saying that they had bewitched the women in their company against their wills. There was one memory he had from when he was very young when someone had come up and yelled at his parents, trying to ‘rescue’ his mother from his father.

 At the time it had been confusing but now he knew the concept of hurtful stereotypes and that his parents had been happy. 

His mother had simply been a spontaneous woman who - after only two weeks of knowing his father - had decided to travel with him and see the world with the help of a guide. This friendship had blossomed into love and had him and his brother as a result. No one had forced his parents to stay together, they had even visited their grandparents now and again, so she would have had many opportunities to leave and return to her old life if she had wished. 

But she'd had the call from the road in her, the same way the Faun had, so even if his parents had decided to separate she would probably still have chosen a traveling lifestyle. 

He stayed with his family ( which he considered all members of the troupe to be, no matter if they were related or not ) into his adulthood but eventually decided he would leave it, at least for a while. It wasn’t him breaking free from the constrictions of the life he had been leading until now, he just wanted to travel a bit on his own. In his mind he would maybe do this for a year and then return, maybe with a partner of his own, but he would never actually get to travel with his family again. 

As this wasn’t a real rebellion, he didn’t feel like throwing caution to the wind. He had a map that showed where he was under no circumstances to go to because it was dangerous and he adhered to that. It was one thing to find himself his own adventure and an entirely different problem to be attacked and maybe killed by people that thought he was there to steal their daughters. 

But he did try to find new roads, a few new places he hadn’t traveled yet and just experience what it was to be alone for once. He loved his family but there was scarcely any time to be on your own and you had to make due. You could take a walk or stay at an inn for some privacy but it'd never really been just him. And truthfully he figured out fast that he didn’t enjoy being alone. It was nice to have more privacy, but being completely self reliant wasn’t to his liking. 

In the troupe the jobs were divided between everyone. 

Someone would fish, someone would cook, someone would get wood, someone would clean up, etc. But being alone meant he had to do everything, always. Every time he tried to get stains out of his clothes he missed being one of the cooks or the gatherers instead, which were two things he enjoyed doing a lot. 

Traveling like this and only staying for a few days or weeks some place also involved him in a lot of romantic affairs. Not all ended well and not all were healthy but he did meet some incredible people who showed him new ways to see the world and he would always treasure the memories he had made. 

Eventually he met someone he didn’t want to leave after the first few weeks: Farin U Laub.  A young Merman working at a tavern as a barman and a bard. He had traveled a lot himself with his parents before he settled in Fabledale. 

Farin was magical to Timothy. 

On their first night out he took him to the ocean and asked him if he had ever traveled under the waves. Since he hadn’t Farin gave him the breath of life and pulled him into the water and showed him around. They couldn’t talk, but could still communicate and it was the moment that Timothy fell hard for this magical creature before him. 

Their relationship was passionate, with high highs and low lows. They weren’t exactly good for one another but also not toxic enough for them to turn destructive. When the Spider War started to threaten Fabledale they had recently broken up again, but the fear of the dangers made them turn to another again, and so they entered the modern day Naraya together. 

After the Curse struck them it woke Timothy up. Farin wasn’t a partner that brought out the most stable person in himself. Just a few days after they landed in this Brave New World he ended it. Over the years they would sometimes meet and hook up for a few days but then fall apart again. He was something like his guilty pleasure and Timothy's friends would always sigh in exasperation when Farin made a new appearance in his stories, but overall he had no real contact with him anymore. 

Since traveling was severely limited now the Faun found new ways to satisfy the call from the road. He loved movies and books, everything that would draw him into a new place for a while. He did prefer movies because you could travel to these places with someone else, but sometimes he would like to travel in privacy, with a book. 

Another thing that made him feel at home was his job: being a Curator at the Art museum. 

The artists were almost exclusively local, but their minds weren’t beholden to stay in this place. He could see the worlds inside of people and talk to them. He had even gotten a degree in art history, though it had taken him longer than he cared to admit. 

Now he spends most of his time around his friends, trying to find new ways to satisfy this need to travel and see the world through other means than physically going places.

Connections:

❖ Farin U Laub ❖ On and Off Boyfriend

❖ Robin Thornsworth❖ Robin frequently visits the museum with their class

❖ Connection 3❖

Possible Plot Ideas:

❖ There was a recent break in at his museum and one of the artifacts has been stolen. While the police is working on it, he feels like there is a deeper issue going on and tries to figure out what really happened

❖

❖

Gifhunts for James McAvoy: X X X

[courtofsapphiresandshadows]

Chapter Seventeen- Azriel

Wind tore into Azriel’s leathers as he raced over the Ironcrest war camp, the night sky blending him and his shadows in perfectly. Him and Aegan were out once again, counting Ironcrest’s numbers to see how much the camp had grown. 

Even before, Ironcrest had been large. Now, it was easily the largest camp in the mountains, with the numbers big enough to wipe out any opposition. 

A set of large wings flapped just overhead. “They’ve expanded over the ridge”, Aegan murmured, her own shadows concealing everything but her eyes. “At this rate, they’ll reach the river.” 

Azriel cursed. “Why hasn’t Rhys taken any action?” He asked, moving slightly to let Aegan fly next to him. It was true- the High Lord hadn’t issued an order or even a visit to try to contain Ironcrest’s numbers. “They’ll be out of control soon.” 

She shrugged. “The Night Court is still recovering from the war with the King. I doubt he’d want to ask Keir for help, lest he be faced with opposition.” 

Or worse, Keir helping Ironcrest. She didn’t need to say it, but Azriel knew the two both wondered if Mor’s father would bother siding with Rhys if the two hated each other. “Still, it’s best to act now. Who knows how large they’ll be if they attack?” 

“‘If’? There’s no ‘if’- only when, Az” she commented, glancing at him briefly before looking forward once more. “But I agree- the sooner we act, the better. Has Cassian said anything?” 

The last time he saw his friend, the Commander was stressing over the possibility of a civil war, as they all were. However, Cass was still focused on keeping the peace with the rebellious camp, despite the clear signs that they wanted war with the Night Court. Could he somehow convince Ironcrest to stand down? It was unlikely, as many of the threats were pointed directly at him. 

Azriel sighed. “He, like Rhysand, prefers to wait. It seems like the only one who agrees with me is you.” 

She cocked her head. “What about the rest of the Inner Circle? What are their thoughts?” 

“Mor doesn’t want Keir involved, Amren has mixed feelings about the whole thing, and- He paused, thinking to himself. “Well, I guess Feyre is on our side. She doesn’t like the idea of an army amassing so close to home.” 

“I knew I liked her for a reason” Aegan joked, although her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “The wards around Velaris should keep them out, right?” 

He knew what she was really asking. Would Sasha, Nesta and Estelle be safe while she was away? Would Ironcrest take her friends away from her too? 

“Those wards are insanely powerful. Only once have they been broken” he assured, but dread did creep into his gut. Even if Ironcrest didn’t know about Velaris, the Hybern soldiers might, and they had been responsible for shattering the protections around the city. 

Aegan relaxed slightly, but doubt still lingered in her eyes. “All we can do now is hope they remain in these mountains” she commented, as they soared closer to the cabin. “On a brighter note, I think the meat’s done!” 

.

.

The scent of roasted venison wafted into his nose as soon as the front door opened. Immediately, his stomach growled, his mouth salivating as Aegan prepared a plate for both him and herself. 

“Go get cleaned up- dinner will be on the table” she told him, tasting a small bit of meat. She muttered something about needing a certain spice, before waving him away to add the finishing touches. From where he was, he could see the red meat practically falling off of the bone, a few vegetables stirred into the mix. 

Not wanting his dinner taken away, he quickly hurried to his room to get out of his sweaty armor. This was the second day they’d done this- Aegan roasting something for dinner, and Azriel cleaning up afterwards. He learned how to actually slow cook hunks of meat until they were perfectly tender- well, it was supposed to be perfectly tender. The first time the meat had been a bit too well done.

Undoing his belt, he sighed in relief as the cool air brushed against his legs. Even though it was late autumn in the mountains, snow beginning to fall more frequently, his armor still made him sweaty as hell. He definitely needed a bath- one sniff under his armpits confirmed his wonderings. 

“What’s taking you so long?” Aegan called out from the kitchen. “I’m going to eat your serving if you don’t hustle.” 

That was another new thing- the female, after her visit from Sasha, had regained her monstrous appetite. It was a surprise that Azriel still had food in the house, considering how much she ate on a daily basis. 

“Coming!” He shouted back, before tugging on a white shirt and loose pants. Kicking his armor in a corner- he would take care of it later- he then raced towards the kitchen, snatching the plate out of Aegan’s hand. Mother above, Azriel was starving- he had skipped breakfast and lunch by accident.

“Hungry, are you?” Aegan asked teasingly, as she watched him dig in to his meal. She too then shoveled her dinner in her mouth at a ravenous pace. Both of them seemed to ignore any of the manners they might use with more distinguished guests. 

Before Azriel could complement her on her cooking, someone knocked at the door. 

Both Illyrians looked at each other- it was rather comical. He knew sauce was dribbling down his chin, and Aegan’s mouth was stuffed to the gills with meat. 

She swallowed forcely, unsheathing her sword at the same time. No matter what they were doing, she was always armed in some way- hidden daggers, her swords. Azriel was the same- Truthteller was already in his hand by the time Aegan swung open the door. 

Sasha stood outside. “Aegan!” She exclaimed cheerfully, her voice slightly muffled by the black scarf wrapped around her mouth. Stomping her boots on the ground to get rid of the snow, the redhead then embraced his partner tightly, the two females laughing and giggling out of excitement. 

“How are you? How’s Nesta and Estelle?” Aegan asked her, pulling back from their embrace to look at her friend. 

“You’re too cute” Sasha told her, flicking her nose. “Both of them are doing well, and I’ve really been enjoying the food in Velaris.” She then glanced behind Aegan’s shoulder to look at Azriel. “You obviously have been treating her well.” 

Azriel shot her a polite smile. “I don’t know what you did, but she’s been back to her normal, charming self ever since you came.”

Aegan twisted her head, only to stick her tongue out at him- how typical. “Azriel here has been feeding me only the finest cuisine- water soup, stale crackers…” She quipped, smirking at him slightly. Before she could see him roll his eyes, she led Sasha over to the pot of meat. “Speaking of finest cuisine, I made some dinner. Hungry?” 

The redhead nodded furiously, grabbing a plate and giving herself a generous helping. The two females burst into a deep conversation that Azriel had no part in, so he went back to the table, finishing off the remnants of his own dinner. This might’ve been the only thing Aegan could cook, but Cauldron could she cook it well. 

A million papers were scattered across the table- thankfully, none were covered with sauce. Seeing that he really had nothing else to do, he selected one out many, and started to scan over it. Like usual, it was filled with bleak and depressing notes- just looking at it had put a large damper on his mood.

Something poked him in the shoulder. Aegan was looming over him, hands on her hips. “What are you looking at?” 

He leaned back in his chair. “The usual- Ironcrest growing, the chance of the Night Court being ransacked increasing by the day…”

Frowning, she snatched the paper away, much to his protest. He was about to speak out, but one sharp look silenced him instantly. “Take a break, Az. Worry about our impending doom tomorrow.” 

Saying ‘impending doom’ definitely didn’t help. Nevertheless, he pushed back from the table, and stood up from his chair. “Happy?” He asked, his wings flaring slightly in irritation. He didn’t like being interrupted in his work, no matter if it was as dark as the reports in front of him. 

Aegan crossed her arms. “I’m ecstatic at your compliance” she snarked, grinning. “Now come, socialize with me and Sasha. She won’t bite… probably.” 

He heard Sasha scoff. “Stop trying to scare males away from me!”

His partner stuck her tongue out for the second time that night. “Then stop threatening to kill them!” 

Sasha laughed, making her way over to Aegan to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “How can I help it, when they’re all so annoying?” She questioned, winking at Azriel playfully. 

He shrugged, suppressing a smile. “I wish I could disagree, but knowing many males, I must say I agree with you.” 

Aegan grinned, patting him on the back, ever mindful of his wings. “See? I told you she wouldn’t bite.” 

Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes, but he was glad that Aegan had pulled him away from the reports on the table. He had almost forgotten about them and the news they carried…

He felt his mood darken slightly. No, he would not allow them to ruin his night. He did deserve a break, at least for one night- work could wait.

“Anyone want a drink?” He offered, following Aegan’s demand to be social.

A look of surprise washed over Sasha’s face. “You drink?”

“Alcohol?” Aegan asked hopefully.

“Yes, in the back closet” he told her, the blonde cackling as she rushed off. It made him snort. Aegan was passionate about few things- her dog, friends, killing things, and alcohol. “Did you find it?” 

“Yep!” Aegan called out cheerfully. “Man, you have quite the variety of whiskey.”

“Rhys and Cass always give me a bottle for my birthday” he told the two females, reminiscing on fond memories of his best friends- brother practically- taking him out to Rita’s and celebrating his birthday. “I never come around to actually drinking them.”

Sasha’s eyes immediately grew wide. “I almost forgot!” She chirped, reaching in her thick winter coat. A bottle appeared in her hand- it was Spitfire, the infamous drink that just so happened to be Aegan’s favorite liquor. 

He could only eye the amber liquid in mild disdain. “She’ll be happy to see that” he admitted, chuckling slightly. “Where’d you get it?” 

Sasha grinned. “That’s for me to know, and for you to never find out. Hopefully.” 

He heard Aegan’s soft footsteps grow louder and louder as she returned, a bottle of brandy under one arm, and three glass stacked precariously in the other. “I didn’t know which one to pick, so I just grabbed one at random-” 

Aegan’s eyes locked on the bottle. “No way” she whispered, her blue eyes practically glowing with happiness. 

Sasha presented her the whiskey. “For you, darling” she purred, watching as Aegan set down the glasses and whiskey snatched the Spitfire out of her hand greedily. “I know it’s a little early, but-”

“Early for what?” She and Azriel interrupted at the same time, both of them looking at the other in confusion. 

The redhead gave her an exasperated look. “Your birthday? It’s tomorrow?” 

The surprise on her face was enough to make Azriel laugh. “You forgot it was your birthday?” 

Aegan look between the two, sheepish. “I didn’t know the date?” She squeaked, her shoulders hunching slightly. “I lost track of time!” 

Sasha rolled her eyes, a smile on her lips. “Well birthday girl, are you going to enjoy your gift?”

She did not need to be asked twice. Prying the cork off effortlessly, Aegan began pouring the Spitfire into two glasses. “Want some, Azriel?” She asked, beckoning to the only empty glass on the table. 

He shook his head. “No thanks, but I’ll some of my own. Probably should start drinking it before Rhys starts wondering if I’d actually tried it” he lied. Truly, he had no desire to try it- too many times has he seen Illyrian soldiers ruin their health because of it. 

Either Aegan believed him, or she didn’t care, as she didn’t press further, pouring him his own whiskey instead. She passed out the glasses. “Cheers to me, I guess” she joked, lifting her glass in the air.

Azriel clinked his glass with hers, before bringing the glass to his lips, taking a small sip. Immediately, he felt the alcohol warm the back of his throat- perfect for the cold outside. He licked his lips, savoring the taste. He drank sparingly- the 3 day drinking binge with Rhys and Cassian an obvious exception- but he did enjoy the occasional glass of whiskey or wine. 

“You’re really missing out, you know”, Aegan told him from the countertop, where she had chosen to sit. She herself was enjoying the Spitfire- unlike most Illyrians he knew, she seemed completely unaffected by the burning liquor. Inhaling deeply, Azriel watched as licks of fire erupted from her mouth.

“Maybe some other time,” he told her, holding back a wince. The idea of breathing fire was not too appealing to him. 

She merely quirked a brow, before taking another gulp. Sasha was more sensible, and took tiny sips, before looking at him with sudden interest. “So, Azriel, what’s it like being Spymaster?” 

.

.

.

The rest of the night had been filled with conversation, laughter, and plenty of drinking. Plenty of Aegan drinking, that was. At one point, she almost fell off the counter top by how much she was swaying. 

“I am not drunk,” she told them when they asked. “I can still take any of you in a fight!” 

Sasha sighed. “Aegan, you are very drunk. Cauldron, you drank half of the bottle!” 

Azriel let out a low whistle- she really had finished half of the bottle. He was surprised she wasn’t dead with the amount of alcohol she consumed today. 

“Maybe it’s best if you go to bed” he suggested, gripping one of her shoulders to keep her from falling. “Besides, both of us have work tomorrow- hangover isn’t going to help.” 

“Fuck work!” She exclaimed, but leaned into his touch. “Who needs work anyways? You love work, Azzie. Work, work, work.” Giggling, she patted his cheek with a hand. “You’re a good work friend.” 

Azriel and Sasha shared a look. Concern flashed in her dark eyes, before disappearing under a wave of amusement. Both of them then chuckled, much to Aegan’s displeasure. The Illyrian grabbed the cork from the bottle, and chucked it at her friend’s head, only for it to be caught. Sasha let out a loud sigh. “Time for bed,” the redhead demanded, helping Aegan off of the countertop. “You definitely had enough to drink.” 

Aegan only blubbered more nonsense, before leaning heavily Sasha’s shoulder. “Love you!” She told Azriel in a singsong voice, before promptly passing out in her friend’s arms, her wings drooping against the floor.

 This spurred another chuckle from Sasha, who glanced over her shoulder to send a grin at Azriel. “I’ll be right back” she told him, before disappearing into Aegan’s room. 

He shot back the rest of his whiskey, coughing slightly, before cleaning up. He grabbed the cork- Sasha put it back on the table- and capped the Spitfire, taking one last look at the bottle before muttering how careless Aegan had been, a smile on his face. 

A shadow curled around his ear. ‘Movements nearby’ it whispered, other shadows sharing details of a small group of Fae moving fairly close to the cabin. 

His smile fell. “Find out who they are, and report back to me.” 

The shadows fell silent, a group of them swarming out of the cabin. Whatever warmth he was feeling was replaced with ice cold dread. Was this the Hybern Fae Sasha had warned him and Aegan about earlier?

“Sorry I took so long, Aegan’s armor was like a puzzle to take off” Sasha’s voice echoed from beside him, jolting him out of his train of thought. She then paused, looked over him, puzzled. “Hey, are you okay?” 

Azriel released a breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m guessing Aegan is still asleep?” 

“Like a baby,” she told him. “Didn’t even wake up when I pulled off her shirt. She’s usually a light sleeper, so this is a first.” 

One shadow came back. It whispered about the group heading to Ironcrest, and not looking for the Spymaster of the Night Court. A blessing, but it only worried Azriel more- they’d find the cabin soon enough. 

He didn’t realize Sasha had been talking to him. She stared up at him, expectantly. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem kind of…” She waved her hands in the air, trying to find the right word. “Preoccupied with other thoughts.” 

Azirel pinched the bridge of his nose. “My shadows have just warned me of a group of fae making their way to Ironcrest- Hybern, most likely. We’ll be safe here, but…” He collapsed in a chair, his words failing him. Were they truly safe? Aegan did say that the camp was expanding considerably. It was only a matter of time until some Illyrian bloke would stumble across the two. 

Sasha’s eyes narrowed, the redhead stealing a glance out of the window. “They must’ve just gotten here- before arriving, I swept the perimeter to look for this sort of thing.” The warrior then pulled out two hidden daggers from her boots. “Is it okay if I mingle around here for the night? I’m going to follow them for a while, see if they mention anything useful.”

It wasn’t a good idea for more people to know he was here, but Sasha keeping an eye on that group did ease his mind. “Go ahead. If you need to rest, the couch is always open, and I’m sure Aegan won’t mind sharing her bed.” 

She scoffed. “I’d never sleep with her- she thrashes” she told him, a grin on her face. “Thanks, though.” 

“For the couch?” 

“For watching Aegan for me.” She glanced back towards her friend’s room, where Aegan no doubt was snoring peacefully. “I hated you for a while, you know. For Aegan’s past condition” she admitted, guilt flashing through her eyes. “She was so miserable, I immediately assumed that you neglecting her on purpose. But, once I came to visit her, I saw that it wasn’t you to blame.” 

Azriel frowned. “It was my fault, if only partially. I should've never agreed to separate her from Nesta and Estelle” he told her, looking down. “Speaking of which, I know you’ve been training them- Aegan’s been meaning to thank you for that.” 

Sasha merely smiled softly. “She worries a lot, you know? About her friends” she told him, before winnowing away, leaving him alone in the kitchen. 

A/N-  Just popping in to say hi! I hope you like this chapter- it was all happy and stuff!! But don’t worry, everything goes downhill from here :D (Also, 500 people are following this fanfic?! I have no words- thank every single one of you!!!! I love you all!)

@callie-bear15

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[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Lonely, Dark and Deep - ao3 link - Chapter 2

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Madara/Tobirama, background others Summary:

Hashirama was always going to have to leave Konoha behind one day, but no one was expecting for it to happen so soon.

Tobirama falls apart without his brother.

Madara, mad and bitter and preparing to leave himself, finds that he's now without his best friend and responsible for a village he'd just about given up on.

And now it seems like there's something not quite right with the forest...

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

Madara knows exactly how he missed it.

He wasn't looking.

He was consumed by his anger, by his grief, seeing the Izuna-that-could-have-been in every corner of the village. Shopping at the brand new market in the center of town, trying out all the new restaurants that were opening up, flirting outrageously with all the women and some of the men, sitting on the field with a lover and watching the fireworks that marked the anniversary of the founding of the village -

This village is everything he dreamed of as a child, but his brother's death makes it all taste of ash.

Pointless. Pointless! He’s betraying Izuna's final wishes every minute he stays, they all are, every Uchiha every minute their clan submits itself to Senju rule.

But his clan doesn't listen to him anymore.

(Warmonger, they whisper, thinking he wants to go back to the way it was before, children dying out on frontlines where they don’t belong. Eye-stealer, like he would ever.)

The stone tablet showed him another way, though, a better way, a way to make the world peaceful for good. If it causes some death along the way – he doesn't want to think about that. He doesn’t want to think of how much destruction this path will cause, how much betrayal and devastation.

Maybe if the village had chosen him over Hashirama and his empty dreams of peace through love, there could have been another way – but no.

The tablet offers the only real way forward. 

It’s what Izuna would have wanted, he tells himself, and he believes it, too.

Every time before, when his rage threatened to overcome him, Hashirama always seemed to know to come by: some new task that needed to be done, some distraction, something wonderful to show him in their growing village. But this time, Hashirama didn’t come.

Even Hashirama’s given up on me, Madara remembers thinking, wild and bitter. Let him stay in his village with its fake peace, then – but I won’t be here. I won’t be deceived.

He’d settled on leaving at the end of the week and set about putting his affairs in order – he’d expected that to cause Hashirama to come running, but he hadn’t. Madara could have just left then, probably should have, but some little part of him that is still a child skipping stones by the riverbank can’t imagine leaving without giving Hashirama one last chance to convince him to stay.

When Hashirama still does not come, Madara goes to find him. 

What he finds –

Tobirama is crying.

That’s the first thing he remembers – the first really clear image in weeks, to be honest, even months, in all the time that has passed ever since Izuna died – a shock like a kunai plunged directly his heart, shock so strong that it penetrates even the fog of grief and rage that always surrounds him now.

Tobirama never cries.

Previously, if asked, Madara would have said he wasn’t even sure the man could. As far as Madara knew, the man hadn’t even cried as a child, not even at the deaths of his own brothers: soulless and heartless, existing but not living, an automaton that mocked Madara by continuing to breathe when vibrant, exuberant Izuna did not.

But doubts aside, Madara cannot deny what his eyes are seeing: Tobirama is crying. 

And he isn’t crying the way Madara would have imagined Tobirama might cry, to the extent he’d thought of it: something all stoic and dignified and maybe a single tear glistening on his cheek for half a second before he wiped it away and buried his pain.

No, this is ugly – Tobirama is on his knees, curled over on himself, his shoulders heaving and tears streaming down his face, mouth agape with silent screams of agony.

“Have you been poisoned?” Madara demands, alarmed, horrified; it’s one thing to demand the man’s death, knowing that Hashirama would never agree – another thing entirely to watch him die right there in front of him by some hand other than his own, robbing Hashirama of his last brother the way Madara was robbed. Whatever their differences, whatever betrayal Madara has planned for the future, Hashirama is still too dear to Madara for him to wish such a fate on him. “You need a healer –” 

Tobirama shakes his head.

“A jutsu, then?” Madara asks, immediately thinking about what jutsu-breakers he knows, and about the strategic vulnerability such an attack presents to the village – if someone had a jutsu that could take out Tobirama in the middle of Konoha, they were all at risk, every one of them. “Some sort of long-distance torture –”

“No,” Tobirama says, his voice raspy and wet. “Nothing like that.” 

Madara stares at him. “Then what…?”

“Hashirama is gone.”

That’s when Madara sees the hat Tobirama is bent over, wrapping his body around it as if he’s trying futilely to protect it even as the pressure of his fingers cause furrows to run through it.

The ridiculous, stupid hat that somehow everyone had decided signified the position of Hokage.

Hashirama’s hat.

Hashirama –

“Gone?” he says faintly, and he finds suddenly that he’s sitting on the floor when a second ago he’d been standing.

It cannot be true. It cannot be.

Hashirama – he’d seen him just the day before, walking through the village with that strange new distant look in his eyes. He’d been fine. How could he be gone?

(Losing Izuna had destroyed the foundation of Madara’s life – but somehow Madara’d never even considered the possibility of losing Hashirama, not to anything but his own hand. They were best friends, they were mortal enemies, they were the possibility of something more, some deep and fundamental binding together of their very souls, but they were above all else each other’s.)

Tobirama nods mutely, as if in saying that much he’d used up whatever store of words he had, and goes back to crying. Here are the tears Madara couldn’t shed for Izuna, frozen in grief as he has been, and all the ones Tobirama hadn’t shed for his younger brothers, too.

All of them are here, now, the sobs ripping their way through Tobirama’s body and it must be true, then, what he says, but Madara still can’t believe it.

“How?” he asks, even though he doesn’t really want to know. The thought of Hashirama, brilliant powerful Hashirama, dead – a thousand images pulled from a thousand battlefields spring into Madara’s mind at once, Hashirama’s lips bloody from the last rasp of breath, face bloated from drowning, body charred to ashes from fire or lightning, fingers ripped apart from trying to dig his way to the surface for air…so many ways to die.

All of it meaningless. In the end the result is the same: Hashirama, dead.

Hashirama, dead.

That’s when the anger steals in underneath the grief.

“No,” Madara says, because the how is unimportant. What matters is – “Who?”

Tell me who to blame, he means, tell me I can get revenge, tell me I can make this better by hurting whoever hurt him – but Tobirama is already shaking his head.

“Peace,” he says, trying to use his sleeve to wipe at his eyes, a fairly futile endeavor. “His peace. Your peace. That’s all.”

Madara frowns, confusing mixing with the anger, staying his always far-too-ready hand. “What? What are you talking about?”

He can’t have heard that right.

Tobirama laughs, sharp and jagged and sounding like it hurt him to do. “You Uchiha,” he says. “You and your curse of hatred, your Sharingan born of pain…did it never occur to you that the Senju have a flaw, too?”

It hadn’t. Not once.

“Everyone knows the Uchiha love too much, too selfishly,” Tobirama says, his lips pulled back into a snarl that’s more of a grimace of pain than anything else. “Well, we Senju have the opposite problem.”

“What, you love the whole world, and it’s a problem?” Madara sneers.

“Yes, it’s a problem!” Tobirama spits back at him. “Hashirama forgets he has children because his village, his peace, is more important to him. My father put defeating the Uchiha above everything – he went to battle the day after my mother died, just because it would give our side the slightest additional advantage in positioning.”

Madara knows this to be true, and it’s always puzzled him. Putting Butsuma aside, how could Hashirama, who loves so strongly, be so neglectful?

Tobirama shakes his head at Madara’s confusion. “You really don’t know, do you?” he asks, his shoulders sagging. “You Uchiha have love. We Senju have principles – one principle for each person, a thousand or more to choose from, but from that principle we do not bend lest we break, and our minds doom us as surely as your hearts do you.”

Madara opens his mouth, then closes it. He’s never thought – that makes no sense – but it does. 

It actually does make sense, in a sick sort of way.

No wonder Butsuma barely batted an eye when Hashirama declared himself willing to oppose his own clan over the question of peace, for all his rage that his son was consorting with Madara in the first place. It had been as if Hashirama’s blasphemous choice hadn’t really surprised him, and as far as Madara knew Hashirama had never suffered any serious consequences for making it – not the way Madara would have, if he’d chosen the same.

So many stories, over the years, all now explained –

Senju inexplicably making last stands when no sacrifice really seemed to be called for. 

Senju fighting like demons possessed, unwilling to ever yield, for no apparent reason.

Senju who terrified even the Uchiha with the extent to which they would seek revenge not for a beloved person, which was something that every Uchiha could understand, but simply for a cause…

Madara opens his mouth to ask what Tobirama’s principle is, but – he knows.

Tobirama, ever the odd duckling of his family, devoted his life to that most un-Senju of principles, a goal more properly fit for an Uchiha: the happiness of his brothers. 

No wonder he couldn’t forgive the Uchiha for his younger brother’s death, even if that too-logical mind of his agreed to give up revenge in favor of working with them for the greater good that was Hashirama’s dream of a peaceful and unified village. 

No wonder he didn’t trust them – he’s too much like them. He knows how they feel, how they grieve, how they rage. In his position, Madara wouldn’t trust his clan either – there’s a reason they usually kill people who end up like Madara is now.

This is the first time it’s occurred to Madara to wonder why they haven’t. 

Tobirama has no brothers left, now. Just like Madara.

“What happened?” Madara asks, suddenly desperate to know. “What happened to Hashirama?” 

Tobirama’s shoulders move, a pale imitation of his usual caustic shrug. “He has the Mokuton,” he says. “It’s – it’s like your Sharingan, like your Mangekyo, only much, much less common. It’s not necessary, we all suffer from our principles regardless, but having it makes the effects of it far worse. Hashirama had it worst of all.”

“But Hashirama’s principle is the village,” Madara says, still stubborn. “Even if Hashirama was willing to devote everything to it –”

And he was, Madara knew he was: he would kill Madara for it, if it came to that – 

No. Not just that.

That isn’t the truest measure of Hashirama’s devotion, killing Madara, not the way he thought it’d be – now that he can think clearly, though, he knows what is. 

Hashirama – he would even have killed Tobirama for the village, wouldn’t he?

When Madara, maddened by Izuna’s death, had demanded Hashirama kill Tobirama or himself as the price of peace between them, Hashirama had only thanked him for offering him the option. 

Madara had thought that was because Hashirama trusted Madara not to make him pay the price, that he wanted to demonstrate that he, too, loved his brother – and even if he thought Madara did mean it, it was an easy choice, really; the same choice Madara would have made, the same choice any Uchiha would make. Now for the first time it occurs to him that perhaps Hashirama had thanked him not because of that, but rather because if Madara hadn’t given him the choice, if Madara had set the price of peace as Tobirama’s blood or nothing, Hashirama would have –

He would have –

(Tobirama had been afraid, when Madara had named his price. The knuckles of the fingers wrapped around his sword had been white, Madara’s Sharingan reminds him, and he’d been so afraid – afraid, yes, but strangely resigned, too. He’d asked if Hashirama would kill him for the sake of his village, for Madara’s sake. And if Hashirama hadn’t loved his brother just a little bit more than he loved himself, he might have done it.)

Madara shakes his head to try to banish the trembling of his heart and continues. “Even if Hashirama was willing to give up everything for the village, why would that kill him? How?”

“Because Hashirama’s principle isn’t a village,” Tobirama says. “It’s peace. The Mokuton…the old legends of the Senju say that for all that we’re a clan without a single limit, the thousand talents, the very first one we ever had was the Mokuton, a gift from the forest. They say that every few generations, we’re gifted again: the forest will lend someone its strength to fight for what they believe in, but it’s a loan. If that person dies in battle, their body is returned to the forest as tribute. If they don’t die, if they live long enough to see their dream fulfilled…it takes them back.”

Madara doesn’t like the sound of that.

“What happened to Hashirama?” he demands again, seized by a sudden fear. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Haunting

Prompt: Whumptober Day 22, Hallucination

Summary: Dr. Iplier comes down with a horrible fever and starts seeing patients he wasn't able to save.

Warnings: Hallucinating, blood, gore, body horror, disfigurement, referenced death and suicide, seriously y’all read at your own risk

Tagging: @peribloke​ @tired-eldritchhorror (ask to be tagged!)

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober Series)

Enjoy...?

~

The fever catches Dr. Iplier by surprise, though it probably shouldn’t have. He’s been running on empty for too long, overworking himself so much that his body is taking drastic measures to get him to stop. Now, Dr. Iplier is stuck in bed, temperature climbing, as The Host watches over him and tries to keep him cool – and Yandereplier hovers nearby, worried and unsure. The pair are trying to decide when they ought to bring Plus in to help out, and if there’s anything he can do that Host and Yandere can’t do already.

Dr. Iplier, though, isn’t aware of any of this. He feels like the fever is cooking him, overheating him from the brain out. It’s hotter than hellfire, and hell is where his mind decides he must be. Everything is dark, shrouded, indistinct, but there’s people appearing before him, familiar people. People who he shouldn’t be seeing, people who died a long time ago.

Patients, of all ages, surrounding him. Everywhere Dr. Iplier looks, there’s someone he failed. Elderly people who died in their sleep, in their beds at the clinic. Little children who choked on strawberries or had allergic reactions. Accident victims who came to Dr. Iplier mangled, already halfway to the grave. People murdered, shot or stabbed or drowned or even set ablaze before their time. Overdoses, unintentional or not. People whose times of death were already written in immovable red when they arrived, and died accordingly. People who might have lived, who almost lived, if not for bad luck, complications, misdiagnoses, mistakes that Dr. Iplier made. He doesn’t make them often, but he does, and they’re here, they’re all here, moaning and wailing and cursing him for failing them.

“I miss Mommy and Daddy,” cries a little boy, face swollen and red with anaphylaxis.

“I just wanted a fix, I wasn’t supposed to die,” yells a pale, convulsing man with bulging eyes and needle marks up his arms.

“I can’t leave my dad, I’m all he has,” gasps a teenage girl pulled from a car wreck, with brown hair and barely any face left to talk with.

“My poor wife, what’ll she do without me?” asks an old man, with purple-smudged eyes and two brain aneurysms that can’t be seen from the outside.

But Dr. Iplier knows they’re there. He remembers. He remembers every single patient, every single sobbing relative, every single flatlined monitor and clouded pair of eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he wails, “I tried, I tried, I didn’t want you to die either, I’m sorry!”

(“Dad, hey, it’s okay! What are you talking about!?”

“He’s hallucinating from the fever. He may not be aware of us right now.”)

The visions get worse, the people crowd around, they wail and scream to match Dr. Iplier’s volume. Wherever Dr. Iplier turns, there’s another accusing glare.

“I was having a heart attack and you couldn’t see it,” sobs a middle-aged woman, as pale as the corpse she became.

“You should’ve waited longer to discharge me,” groans a man, bones cracked and head dented after his still-bad hip gave him a fall down the stairs.

“I didn’t mean to,” cries a little girl, one eye and half her brain blown away from the pistol she wasn’t supposed to have access to.

“I thought I wanted to die, but you shouldn’t have let me,” says a teenage boy, monotone and sad, neck stretched too long and feet swollen with pooled blood.

“I know, I know, I know,” Dr. Iplier sobs, “I failed, I should’ve been better, I’m sorry!”

(“Shhh, shhh, darling, you’re alright, you’re safe.”

“Should we get Midori-kun?”

“The Host isn’t sure. Dr. Iplier’s hallucinations won’t go away instantly, even with fever reducers. It might be best to wait it out. Dr. Iplier has done as much with the two of us before.”)

If it were only this, it would be terrible but not unbearable. If it were only human patients glaring and screaming at him, only pairs and pairs of human hands grabbing his hair, arms, legs, trying to pull him down into hell with them, trying to draw him further into the fire, then Dr. Iplier might still have enough awareness to know that what he’s seeing isn’t real. But it isn’t just human patients.

It’s egos, too. Every single one of the many, many egos that faded away and died, forgotten by the fans, but never by Dr. Iplier. Never by Dr. Iplier, who sat by them and tried to make them comfortable until their inevitable end. Who could do nothing at all but sit with them and wait for them to die. They’re here, they crowd around like the humans did, but their faces and voices are familiar, their glares and wails and accusations hurt so much more.

“I was meant to make masterpieces,” laments Artiplier in his thick French accent, crying so hard he’s nearly incomprehensible. “Didn’t you tell me I could do great things? But it was lies, you lied, menteur, menteur.” His white shirt is now stained a multitude of colors as rainbows flow from gashes and lines across his body. He never looked like that when he was alive, he was never hurt so badly, but the fever heat of Dr. Iplier’s mind makes it so.

“I didn’t, I didn’t mean…” Dr. Iplier gasps.

“You never gave me hope,” mutters the deep, droning tone of Goopiplier, his once-white ectoplasm now red and brown with blood, holes and cracking dry skin peeking through gaps in the sludge. “You always knew I was going to die. You didn’t give me any reason to hold on.”

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Iplier whimpers, “Your time was red, I couldn’t–”

“I was so happy, and just like that it was gone,” Walter Melone Warfstache moans, purple moustache dripping purple blood that runs from his nose, eyes, ears. “Did Wilford forget me, too?”

“I don’t know,” Dr. Iplier whispers, unable to speak louder, “I don’t know.”

“What about my brother?” cries the tinny, high-pitched voice of Mini Bing. He stands on exposed joints, his chest is missing metal plates, still-sparking wires poke out of his arms. His sunglasses are shattered, and one eye hangs loose, attached by a thread of optic wire that threatens to snap at any moment. His other eye leaks tears to mix with the oil flowing like blood. “Why did I die so fast? There was so much we were supposed to do together!”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t, I couldn’t–” sobs Dr. Iplier.

“At least you both knew your brothers,” wails Weatherman Jim, his movements hampered by the mangled mess of ripped flesh and bone shards that is the entire left side of his body.

“We wanted to, we wanted to,” cries Newscaster Jim, his right side just as ruined and bloody, trying to hold Weather Jim close with his one good arm. “If you’d just kept us alive for a few more weeks, we could’ve!”

“There was nothing I could do!” Dr.  Iplier screams.

“What kind of doctor are you!?” sneers the gruff, angry voice of the latest ego lost, Derek Derekson. He’s bruised so bad the skin is broken, blood is so thick in his mouth he’s hard to understand, both his glaring eyes are blackened and swollen. “You of all people ought to know that a son needs his father, and now mine’s alone because of you!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!!” Dr. Iplier howls.

And he is, he is sorry. Derek was nearly as cruel as Dark and as callous as Wilford but he was still one of them, still an ego, still one of the many people that were supposed to call Ego Inc. home but never had long enough to do it. More and more egos, crowding, haunting with their familiarity, horrifying with their bodies; unbroken in life but somehow mangled in death. Dr. Iplier struggles against pairs of hands, dozens, hundreds, egos and humans both, trying to drag him under as he kicks and screams.

(“Dad, hey, calm down! Katarite-san, he’s getting worse!!”

“It’s time to get Plus. Go, The Host will stay with Dr. Iplier.”

“I’ll be right back, Dad, I love you.”

“Edward, can you hear me at all?”)

A new face appears before Dr. Iplier, one he’d never wanted to see again. He moans with terror, tears pouring as he stares into the gaping eye sockets of The Author. His signature shark-fin hair is flat and matted with blood, blood that waterfalls from his empty eye sockets, rustling the strips of dead tissue hanging over the edges and down his cheeks. All the skin without blood soaking it is bluish-white, nearly gray in places, the color and texture of a corpse. His hands are bloody as they reach out and cup Dr. Iplier’s cheeks, his teeth are bloody as he opens his mouth to speak.

“You left me,” he moans, yet in that sharp, clear tone that Dr. Iplier fell for, “You turned your back on me and left me vulnerable. I died because you gave up on me when I wanted to fix things.” His fingers creep across Dr. Iplier’s cheeks, catching tears, but the touch has no comfort in it. “You gave Dark an opening and he took it. And you lost me forever. The Host has my body and my memory, but he is not me. I’m gone. I’m gone. You let me go. You let me die.” His grip on Dr. Iplier tightens, nails digging into his head, like he means to wrench it around and snap his neck. “Do you ever miss me, Edward?” he snarls, “Do you remember what we had? Do you think about me when you let him fuck you like I used to? Does he taste like me? You moved on with him so nicely, you keep telling him you love him how he is now. Do you care at all for what you lost? Did you ever love me at all?”

“Isaac, let me go! I’m sorry, please, I love you, I love you, let me go!” Dr. Iplier wails, fighting The Author’s hands.

(“My love, I know what you’re seeing, and it’s not real! It’s alright, Edward, you’re safe, I promise you’re safe, please hear me!”

“Katarite-san, I brought Midori-kun!”

“Host, what was his temperature when you last checked?”

“Dad, Dad, you’re gonna be okay, can you hear me??”)

Finally, finally, The Author’s hands tear away from Dr. Iplier, but he can still feel the man’s blood on his cheeks, and he sobs, sobs…until a new voice, singsong and high-pitched, floats in from somewhere unidentifiable.

“Kagome, kagome, kago no naka no tori wa…”

“What–” Dr. Iplier gasps.

“Itsu, itsu deyaru, yoake no ban ni…”

“No, no, you’re not, you’re not–” Dr. Iplier sobs.

“Tsuru to kame ga subetta,” Yandere sings as he finally comes into view, “Ushiro no shoumen dare?”

“How!?” Dr. Iplier screams. “I didn’t, you didn’t–” His own tears cut him off.

Yandere stands before him with every injury he’s ever had in his skin, in his bones. His head is caved in, his jaw is cracked and hanging loose, one eye is sliced over and leaking like jelly out of the socket. His shirt is so torn to ribbons it doesn’t cover him at all, and Dr. Iplier can see his open ribcage, the bones bent away and snapped off, revealing his quiet heart and motionless lungs. The gash up his side that almost killed him is open again, and ropes of intestine spill out, flopping and twitching on the ground. Yandere holds one loop in his hand, twirling it absentmindedly, and his other hand is half-sliced off, a perfect diagonal across his fingers and through his palm. His arms are so cut up it’s hard to see the skin, his legs are crooked and bent in too many places.

“You’re right, I haven’t died,” Yandere says, words garbled from his shattered jaw. He smiles as well as he’s able, his tone is light and happy. “But I will. You haven’t failed me yet, but you will.” His good eye closes mirthfully; his bad eye shivers and rolls as it tries to copy the action. “One day you won’t get to me in time, or you’ll make a mistake, and I’ll die just like the rest of them.” He steps closer. “I almost did die, when I was a baby, do you remember? ‘Cause I do.” He reaches into his own chest with his bad hand, nudges his dead heart with the stumps of his fingers. “I remember how you didn’t even have the decency to tell me I was dying.”

“But you weren’t!!” Dr. Iplier insists.

“You thought I was, though, didn’t you?” Yandere asks. “You were so surprised when I survived. I could’ve faded away and you wouldn’t have ever let me know.” He drops the intestine in his hand and picks at the exposed tendons in his other hand instead, making his arm muscles twitch and jump. “Maybe you don’t care. Maybe you’d be happier if I was dead. Maybe that’s why you let me get hurt all the time.”

“Baby, baby, my baby, please,” Dr. Iplier bawls.

“One of these days I’ll die, Papa,” Yandere continues, still messing with his open fingers, “I’ll die horribly, I’ll bleed to death or get my head chopped off or get mangled in an accident, and it’ll be your fault. It’ll be your fault, because you’re my dad, and you’re supposed to protect me.” He reaches into his chest, squeezes his own heart until it squelches and pops under the strain. “You’ll fail me one day, Papa, you’ll fail me and I’ll hate you forever.”

“Please, no,” Dr. Iplier sobs, “Yan, I love you, I love you, please–”

(“I love you too, Papa, it’s okay, it’s okay!”

“I’ll give him an acetaminophen injection to reduce his fever. Host, help me keep him still.”

“Be careful, be careful!!”

“We’ll be very careful, Yandere. There’s no need to cry.”)

Too many hands, too many hands, pushing him down, pulling him under, deeper and deeper into that rising heat, the heat of blood and muscle, of bone marrow, of brain matter, of friction from cold hands scrabbling over each other to yank on Dr. Iplier’s hair and clothes, pulling, pulling, all the way down, into the hellfire, hotter and hotter and hotter –

(“The fever should start going down soon.”

“Is there any way he can be sedated?”

“No, it’s not safe right now. Maybe if his fever gets lower and he’s still hallucinating.”

“The Host…The Host understands.”

“You should both go and clear your heads. I can take care of him from here on out.”

“Wait, we can’t just leave him! W-We can’t–”

“Yandere, there’s nothing more we can do here. Our presence only made Dr. Iplier’s hallucinations worse, and we…we are in no condition to provide him comfort.”

“He’ll be alright, Yandere, I’ll make sure.”

“Come along, little one, The Host has s-some new books in the library he’d like to show you.”

“O-Okay…”)

Dr. Iplier, after what feels like years of heat and haze and moaning corpses, finally tires. His mind exhausts itself and Dr. Iplier finds himself dragged down a different way, not into hellish hands, but into dark and dreamless sleep. He welcomes it, welcomes anything to stop the onslaught of anguished spirits still clawing at his lab coat.

Finally, finally, he sleeps.

~~~

When Dr. Iplier wakes up, he’s still warm, but not sweltering like before. It’s still dark around him, but not foggy or strange. He looks around and sees nothing but the walls of his bedroom. There’s a weight in bed beside him, and he looks down to see Yandere, whole and unharmed, curled up and asleep, snuggled into his chest.

No spirits. No monsters. No dead. Just his bedroom, just night.

He sighs as he puts an arm around Yandere. Something nearby rustles and shifts, and Dr. Iplier looks away from Yandere to see The Host, rousing himself from sleep in the chair he’s sitting in. Perfectly normal Host, maybe a little bloodier than usual, but nothing out of the ordinary.

“Did I wake you?” Dr. Iplier asks, and realizes his voice is sore. Probably from his earlier screaming.

“Technically, yes,” Host admits. His voice is off, too. He probably cried earlier. “But I’m glad for it. I…” He pauses, unsure. “Are you alright?”

Dr. Iplier still remembers the hallucinations. He knows they weren’t real, but he can’t help but feel them all the same. He’ll probably remember them for a while. But Host is here, and he’s fine, and Yandere’s here, and he’s fine.

Dr. Iplier beckons Host closer, and Host leaves his chair to sit on the bed instead. But Dr. Iplier pulls him closer with the arm not around Yandere, and Host adjusts, laying next to him to hold him. The rustling and movement wakes Yandere, who clings to Dr. Iplier tighter.

“Are you okay, Papa?” he asks, voice small and eyes sparkling with tears. Dr. Iplier feels a pang of answering sympathy. He can only imagine how his own despair and terror looked from the outside, both to Yandere and Host. He kisses Yandere’s forehead softly and turns his head to kiss Host just as gently.

“I am now,” Dr. Iplier whispers, answering both his loved ones’ questions.

[lettuce-king]

I was looking on my phone and found some notes and a theory for Jimmy Casket. I just want to warn that this is a few years old and does not consider any of the more recent P.I.E. videos.

《Anything that looks like this is new and added now as I Re-Read it》

So without further ado, I present a 2 year old theory and notes:

Dipper mod 1- March 9th 2016

Haunted by cardboard friend- Johnny Ghost gets some of Gregory/Jimmy' s flash backs like remembering the cardboard friend name and this confuses Ghost as he tries to connect the links in his brain.

CBF Theory: CBF is a manipulative entity that attacks and feeds off of the weak (This is proved by CBF attacking Ghost without his partner Toast and when he attacked Gregory because he had no one to interact with and caused them both to go crazy)

[Crossed Out] Babby doll hide and seek (gregory) Sep, 26 2013

[Crossed Out] Murder ep 1- Jan, 12 2012

[Crossed Out] Box friend original- Sep, 15 2013

《I think I was going to do a theory that dealt with the dates but Idk.》

Jimmy Casket Theory/Notes:

1. Tommy/Timothy Casket is Jimmy' s father and not Ghost's.

2. Jimmy Casket likes to win whether it's murder, hide and seek, find it so I can eat it, TTT, or just killing someone.

3. I believe that paranormal entities detect Jimmy Casket/Gregory instead of Johnny Ghost.

4. He is ticked off by not winning, blood, being away from Toast for along time, when Ghost is confused/scared of something, annoyed by people, doesn't get what he wants.

--‐----------------------------------------

In Gmod murder siblings 11 "Olaf" at 14:05 Jimmy Casket states that his name is Gregory

In KING BONNIE (Gmod castle mod) at 7:49 Ghost said that he grew up on a farm

[Crossed Out] January 8th 2014 "Johnny Ghost" Gmod 4 player prop hunt 27 Ghost and Toast first appearance

《Time for the Big Theory》

Jimmy Casket the world's most renowned murderer. To solve the theory of who is Jimmy Casket? And what is his backstory? We need to go over a few things first. The 1st thing we need to go over before we start talking about Jimmy Casket is how life and death works in the Gmod/VenturianTale world. Clearly life and death in the Gmod world is not normal like it is here in reality. We live and we die, that's how it is and that's how it will always be. But we can still explain why people come back from the dead. I believe the reason people can come back from the dead is Maxwell Acachalla. Now how does Maxwell have any thing to do with Jimmy Casket? You may ask well, I'm getting there. Let me explain why I think Maxwell has to do with people coming back from the dead first. In a bank robbery with Papa Acachalla and the gang, Maxwell was killed by the Bank Teller after they figured out they were trying to steal money. When Maxwell died he met with an evil and VERY powerful entity. Who this entity is? I don't know. It could be someone we haven't met yet, or will ever meet. It could be Satan himself. Or it could be someone we've seen before, but never suspected them to be evil.

Back to what I was saying, when Maxwell encountered the entity he was offered great power as a ghost and since Maxwell was power driven he accepted the gift. When the Acachalla household encountered Maxwell again there was a curse that made them become immortal, Maxwell didn't mind because he wanted to enternally tourture the Acachallas and especially Papa and his gang as revenge for his death. When Maxwell was starting to get out of hand the Acachallas called P.I.E. aka Johnny Ghost and Johnny Toast to get rid of him. When Ghost and Toast encountered Maxwell they were "killed" by him and that caused Ghost and Toast to come back from the dead.

Now, some people in the universe are also not 100% normal, for example Maloney is an alien and some people have special powers which I think is the reason Spooker and Mr. Sviggles can come back from the dead. Now that we have gone over the reason why I think some people come back from the dead, we can discuss the fact that some people aren't immortal and once they die they die. Some examples of this is John, M9KShotgun, and the ginger kid from "FNAF School Roleplay - Gmod Five Nights at Freddy's Animatronics mod (Garry's Mod)", other small one time characters, and Higgly Diggly Hoogen, yes before you start saying "But even if he gets killed he still keeps coming back" and you're kinda right, BUT he doesn't come back from the dead, one of his many other clones are sent. And the government will never run out as long as they keep cloning him. And you're still probably wondering what this all has to do with Jimmy Casket well I'm about to tell you how.

Remember that video "Gmod Cardboard Friend Mod" where Gregory was hanging out with Cardboard Friend and it slowly turned into a horror movie type scenario? Yeah? Well this is a big part of lore we need in order to solve the mystery of Jimmy Casket. Let's talk about what we know about Gregory and CBF then we'll go into what I think happened. We know that Gregory is a young easily manipulated boy that has gone through a lot. He lost his parents at an early age, he's been alone in a really creepy, old house and his only source or communication is CBF which is a ghost. Now let's get into the theories, I believe CBF is an evil, manipulative entity that is up to no good, and only wants to traumatize and kill people (and possibly take their souls). CBF's target was Gregory, CBF planned to slowly steal his soul by making him go mad, and it worked. In the video when CBF was chasing Gregory around the house it symbolized him killing Gregory, and when Gregory was sending CBF into the sky was him accepting the fact that he was dead, and finally Gregory walking out of the yard was him moving on into the afterlife. Now this is when things start to tie together, because when Gregory died he was faced with the same evil entity that gifted Maxwell great power. The entity offered Gregory something unbelievable.

BUT, before I say what the entity gifted Gregory I want to explain why he decided to gift Gregory and not some other random person. Think, this video was probably a flashback of Gregory's life which was in like the 1980s when technology was not at its peak and paranormal invenvestigating sounded pretty crazy, so there weren't many paranormal investigators. Therefore there was no hard cold proof that paranormal entities can kill people EXPECT for the "Bell Witch Haunting" which states that a poltergeist physically killed (in this case poisoned) John Bell in the 19th Centary. So death by paranormal entity was pretty rare. This caused the evil entity to bestow a gift upon Gregory, a boy that died by a paranormal entity at a young age.

Back to what the entity offered Gregory, the entity gave Gregory the chance to rule over personalities. So we're all correct when we say that Gregory is Jimmy Casket, but this goes a lot deeper than imagined...

Gregory is that insane, evil, devious side of you and your OC's when you/they lose at something, is scared, threatened, or confused. And Jimmy Casket is just one of his characters with their own backstory and a little bit of Gregory in it. Gregory is Samantha gravestone, Max Hunter, Melodie Casket, Amy Reaper, Ethan Dager, Karl Coffin, 《These are all people's "insane" OC's I looked up when originally making this》 Gavin Toast, he is even Antisepticeye and Darkiplier.

I also quickly want to mention that this personality can spread into our world too so to explain to you what I mean I'll tell you about the time I was scrolling through the comments of a story I found on WattPad and the users were talking about how they would sometimes feel the urge to stab, trip, or harm/kill people, like Jimmy Casket does, and that made it clear that the feelings they feel becomes a personality. Another thing to notice is how Jordan changes from the fun, energetic, and goofy person he is to an insane, psycopath...even his eyes change. That's right the addicting, fun, evil personality we all love to use today are one of Gregory's OCs .

And now, here we are nearing the end of the theory but there are still some things up in the air that we need to be solve before we go, Questions like Why is Ghost unaware of Jimmy Casket? And why does he act so strange around CBF? Well...I'm gonna solve these questions right now, Let's first start with why Ghost is unaware of Jimmy's existence. This simply deals with how powerful one's soul is. Johnny Ghost has been through a lot of stuff...too much stuff, this has caused his soul to weaken and decay. Since he has a weak soul Gregory's OC, Jimmy Casket had extra room to grow and fill so he added more of his own backstory in there too, in order to have a balance. This caused Ghost's childhood to get mixed up with the other backstories and whenever Jimmy/Gregory takes control it's over whelming and causes Ghost to black out. How I know this deals with how powerful one's soul is and not something else is shown in "Dipper Mod 1" when dipper's evil persona left his body and tried to stab him with an eraser. Dipper seemed to not care or worry about it and in "Dipper Mod 2" Dipper's evil clone was hanging around the store and Dipper was not worried or scared at all, he may have been a bit annoyed but that's all. That showed that Dipper has a strong soul and is very aware of his evil side the side Gregory controls.

And now to finally explain why Ghost acts the way he does around CBF. Johnny Ghost is a Paranormal Investigator which means he investigates paranormal entities wether it be a level 2 apparition or a demon he tries to get rid of it, and CBF is no exception. The powerful and smart entities notice Gregory and not Ghost so when Ghost runs into CBF Gregory starts to freak out because he is aware that CBF is his killer and CBF knows that Gregory is there and wants to traumatize him even further. Gregory acts as Jimmy Casket and not himself because he wants to try to stand up for himself in a more powerful and safer form. And if any other OC were to come face to face with CBF they would have the same reaction because they are all the same person, Gregory. So this solves the mystery of Jimmy Casket, He's just another one of Gregory's made up personalities that Gregory hides behind. And Gregory is just an unfortunate soul that was chosen to die by the hands of a ghost, which caused him to become the evil, mischievous side of everyone.

-----------‐----------------------------------

That's it! That's a theory that I wrote about 2 years ago and never did anything with.

I used to love Venturiantale and finding this and looking back to a few of their videos was a blast to the past. It was definitely one of the better fandoms I was in when was younger and I still don't regret it one bit.

[moonaft]

Night and Silence

Rosemary and Rue

A Local Habitation

An Artificial Night

Late Eclipses

One Salt Sea

Ashes of Honor

Chimes At Midnight

Interlude : Full of Briers

The Winter Long

A Red-Rose Chain

Once Broken Faith

Interlude : Dreams and Slumbers

The Brightest Fell

Interlude : Of Things Unknown

I read this the day after Halloween. 

Spoilers up to Night and Silence and October 2018 for the Patreon stories.

To answer a question from the book summary: who remembers about Gillian?

Well...

Simon Torquill, obviously. Evening. Raysel. Sylvester, Luna, and the staff of Shadowed Hills 20 years ago. Most of Toby’s allies, including Quentin and his parents. The Lordens. The Luidaeg. Several of the night haunts. Brucer and probably some other people from Home. The SF police department. Literally any one who was listening at the elf-shot conclave. 

In short, there’s a lot of people who know about Gillian.

Anyways, onto the main story. 

Does Faerie not have therapists? If you can go away for a hundred years and come back fine, you probably don’t need therapists. Danny is the closest Toby’s got. 

It’s good that Tybalt doesn’t blame Toby for her mother’s actions. 

Back to therapy with Danny and Quentin after catching the flying pig-hedgehogs. Point of clarification: deposing Rhys is not treason because Toby never swore to him.

“No longer the custom to greet those of no family name with the name of their species” - Is that why Simon called May “Milady Fetch” last book? And mixed bloods and changelings would have it rough. “Milady Siren-Sea Wight-Banshee” for the false Queen? 

Nolan seems to be settling in well. 

Dianda would be an excellent mother-in-law, just saying. 

Hi May! Sounds like both Jazz and Tybalt have major depression and PTSD from last book. Poor Jazz, poor Tybalt. 

Hi Cliff!

And Cliff has turned to stalking now? At least Miranda knows that she’s stepped too far. 

At least Gillian is an adult now and can visit her estranged mother if she wants to, assuming she survives this. Poor Gillian. 

Yes, May usually doesn’t get to go on field trips. She’s not missing this one.

Poor Raj. The fallout from The Brightest Fell is hitting everyone hard. 

Has Arden actually talked to Toby about shifting loyalties before, or is that what Toby thinks is coming next?

I really hope this isn’t Simon’s work. 

Toby has a fan! I knew there must be fae out there who look up to her!

Well, those marshwater charms aren’t suspicious at all... At least Jocelyn isn’t affected. I wonder if it’s like iron for the fae. 

Hi Bridget! Who else in the cast of characters are we going to get today? Berkeley means Walther and probably Jack the grad student, and then maybe April? Or Mags?

Nicely done on the magic, Toby. I wonder if the red hair is the color of fox fur? 

Don’t swallow glass, Toby, it’s not good for you. 

Poor Gillian. 

OK, they found a weird pocket dimension. Not what I was expecting. 

Do Quentin and May see something different than Toby? She sees only one house.

Weird chicken house is weird. 

Confirmed that April is no longer the Countess of Tamed Lightning. I guess she could take over if her mothers wanted to take a long vacation.

“Get your fuzzy butts over here” - Toby, that’s still not how we talk about royalty. I hope Shade will be amused. 

Is cinnamon Jocelyn’s magic scent? It’s certainly not close to Simon’s. 

Hi Arden! What do you mean, you’re not supposed to be here? Not even going to Annwn triggered that response. 

So the fae did come to North America before the Europeans, or at least before the 19th century. 

So Shade rules the Court of Golden Cats, which isn’t really part of the Court of Dreaming Cats. This really doesn’t jive with how Tybalt and Colleen were in London.

Jocelyn, I had such high hopes for you. 

I love Toby pretending to be Jocelyn’s mom and I don’t know why. 

Jocelyn, no. Don’t do this. 

Weird house #2. I’m over 1/3 of the way through this book, why has no one brought up the Luidaeg yet?  

That must be terrifying for Marlis - “hey sis, can you check on the false queen who is still sleeping in your basement? No reason.” 

I bet it’s some sort of illusion magic, making Toby think it’s the false queen, like Oleander did. Or maybe Simon could grab the false queen’s blood to do magic. 

Yeah, that’s not Gillian.

So that’s not another doppleganger...

Baobhan Sidhe, that was mentioned in April’s interlude. 

Hi Tybalt! And Toby’s covered in blood again.

Are Baobhan Sidhe Maeve’s bloodworkers? Or does Titania or Oberon get two bloodworking races? Water can be used for illusion magic, sometimes. 

The last time they couldn’t get in contact with Dean, Evening had returned. That’s not good. 

So Toby got attacked by a vampire, fun. 

Has Goldengreen become a replacement Home? Marcia is good. I remain curious about how much the war against the merlins is common knowledge, she seems to know a lot about it. 

Marcia, can you lend Toby some non-blood-covered clothes? Please?

The “long lost estranged sister” card can only played once, Toby. I guess if you ever need to explain August to them, she can be your cousin, the daughter of your “Uncle” Simon. 

Fuck off, Miranda. 

She has a fae-repealing thorn, what the hell? 

She’s her grandmother??? And Janet - that’s Janet Carter who broke Maeve’s Ride, for sure. Amandine’s mother is Janet Carter, makes sense. And completely josses the idea of any non-Three-derived fae, ok. Everyone’s fae or human or both, no aliens here. 

May’s right, there’s something disturbing about Janet’s relationship with Cliff, her granddaughter’s ex-fiancee, and the father of her great-granddaughter. 

Clearly Janet hasn’t been paying attention to recent news. 

It sounds like Amandine went with the Torquill boys to California, if Janet’s been there long enough that Gilad’s parents knew about the spot. She followed Amandine, after Amandine followed the twins. 

Dammit Toby, you need to tell Quentin his mother was a changeling. This is Sylvester all over again. 

So breaking the Ride led to Faerie being sealed away? So Janet breaks the ride, Maeve curses Janet, she leaves?, and Oberon seals the deeper lands and leaves as well. Titania is not mentioned at this point in the story. 

Or, the Luidaeg implies she’s still there for the Ride? At least, Titania is not implied to be missing at this point. 

Tam Lin was going to go somewhere - or, he was going to die to feed Faerie, and then Maeve had to go instead, except it wasn’t death for her. If humans are sealed in deeper Faerie, that might kill them but not one of the Three. And then Maeve was gone, but Titania wasn’t or Faerie would have been thrown out of whack before the Ride. 

So what did Maeve do to Titania in response to the Luidaeg’s binding? 

Janet is reminding me of August here.

Tam Lin would get a peaceful death, I hope Maeve isn’t actually dead. 

Yeah, it’s implied that Maeve could come back one day. 

So there isn’t a geass on the world to make it forget about Dawn. Toby remembers that Dawn existed! Not enough to ask about why Evening pretended Dawn was her sister, and clearly neither Patrick nor Sylvester are bothering to ask why. So who killed Dawn? 

Who constructed the old knowe? 

“...whose only job is constructing life-threatening situations.” Sounds right, Quentin. 

Hi vampire lady!

And May and Quentin are elf-shot. Again. 

Poor Gillian, elf-shot again. 

Yes, please, go get Dianda. Toby has so many allies these days. 

How old are these kids? Gillian was what, four, when Toby went into the pond? She’s out fourteen years later, and it’s been four years since then. She should be twenty two or so. If Jocelyn’s the same age, Home closed when she was eighteen. Toby went to Home when she was twenty five, but Dare and Manuel were twelve, I think. Jocelyn wasn’t too young, in that case. I don’t think Home had an age limit. 

DUGAN’S NOT DEAD??? My God. 

Hi Kennis! Toby has a new ally.

Hi Dianda, Patrick and Sylvester. Good to see you all awake, unharmed and ready to help. 

So is Dawn Evening’s changeling granddaughter turned pureblood? I’m not getting the sense that Evening ever had changeling kids. Maybe Dawn is a former changeling and Evening’s daughter?

ARE YOU SERIOUS? They’re ALL human descended? It’s not just Maida, Aethlin is descended in part from a human? And Septiminus is Evening’s grandson, so either he or his parent was a changeling-turned-pureblood? It’s not just the twins? Unless the family name came from Glynis? And Dugan too!

The Merrows’ Firstborn is the child of Titania and a human, but not all Merrow are Lordens, so there’s another human in the Saltmist family’s history. Toby, why aren’t you reacting to this? Gillian, I know. But this is important!! 

Where are all these hope chests?

Oh, poor Gillian. Poor Toby.

Is Dugan working for Evening? Or maybe Simon? 

Plasedon’tbeSimonpleasedon’tbeSimon - ok, it’s Dugan, or maybe Simon pretending to be Dugan. 

Whoops, there he is again. Played your last card there, Dugan. 

At least Cliff is taking the lies well. I’m not sure Gillian’s going to understand the whole Amandine-August-Simon-Evening thing. 

Hi Siwan! Toby, if you ever piss off Arden too much, you can hang out in Portland. It’ll be fine. 

Hi Jolgier! This should be a good solution. Though shouldn’t Shade take charge? Well, seven years should be enough to put Raj on the throne. 

Maybe Dean can make Goldengreen into the new Home. Marcia’s already halfway there. 

Interlude: Suffer a Sea-change

Oh poor Gillian. 

This is taking place right before Christmas, that sucks. 

Yes, punch Jocelyn in the throat. You are going to like Dianda, maybe you can hang out at Goldengreen with Dean. 

She doesn’t remember the Luidaeg at all. 

OK, whatever Miranda’s line needs to do, it’s related to the fae blood they have. Gillian isn’t bound why whatever Amandine, August or Toby need to do. Is it taking Maeve’s place in eternal sleep? 

Poppy gets to go fight spiders, apparently. Good to know she’s doing well. 

Hi Firtha, sorry you’re dead. You seem cool. 

Oh poor Toby and Gillian. She never knew how much Toby cares for her. 

I do appreciate having Gillian’s POV on all this. Wonder what’s going to happen when she gets the cliffsnotes version of the entire series?

Gillian, you are the best. 

Hello Miranda, it is very creepy you married the ex-fiance of your granddaughter and the father of your great-granddaughter. I think you wanted a second chance to raise your daughter since Amandine pushed you away. 

Oh shit, she’s dead again. 

Wait, no, she’s ok. I think the skin is invisible outside of Faerie but she doesn’t know it yet. 

Aw, Poppy’s apprenticed to the Luidaeg! 

Yep, the Luidaeg is terrifying but Gillian doesn’t have the old tales to know what the rest of Faerie thinks. 

Yeah, Gillian can’t outrun the elfshot by being Selkie for a hundred years because I’m pretty sure there won’t be Selkies in another year, depending on what the bargain is. 

Look Miranda, you’re getting off easy at the moment. You’re also acting like a homophobic mother whose daughter just came out and can’t reconcile your hate with your love. 

Gillian, you’ll love hanging out with Quentin and May and Jazz. It’ll be great. 

I can’t fault Elizabeth Ryan for always having a drink in her hand. 

Yeah, I think the Selkies that currently have skins will become Roane or Roane-equivalent - no more passing the skins down the line. Anyone who doesn’t have a skin is going to turn human or die.

This is a good ending point. 

One more book to come. 

[jericho-rk3k]

Lil’ Brother: Laugh & Live

A/N: It has been weeks since I updated and I apologize! I have finally got over my procrastination and this is the result.

Prompt: You get to spend a day free of worries with the Winchesters and your brothers.

Pairing: Platonic

Characters: Y/N, Dean, Sam, Gabriel, Lucifer, Castiel

Warning: Fluff, weirdness

Word Count: 1839

“We are going to the lake today, right?”

Golden rays of sunlight entered the dining room through the windows and the sound of steel forks and spoons clinking with each other diffused with the cheery chirps of birds perched high on the trees, and the mouthwatering aroma of breakfast engulfing the whole room.

Perfect morning, right?

At least not for you guys, it had been weeks since your father had turned you humans so you could have a better understanding of them. The first few weeks were in vain as you angels experienced various things you have never felt before like hunger for example. Sam has to constantly remind Lucifer and Castiel to regularly change their clothes and take a shower as they would go on days without a shower and put Dean into a coma.

Lucifer was the first one to react to your question with mocked confusion written all over his features, “Says who?”

You pouted at your older brother childishly and crossed your arms, clearly pissed.

“Cut it, Luci, we promised him weeks ago,” Sam interfered as he patted your small back. Gabriel and you had lived among humans long enough to handle yourselves but the other two angels were the problem so you guys had to teach them how to be humans and it was extremely frustrating for the Winchester brothers and you (with Gabriel sneaking out to hook up with women and being a pain in the ass rather than helping).

Lucifer mumbled a ‘Whatever’ and continued eating his breakfast, occasionally shoving vegetables into Sam’s plate, earning a glare from the younger Winchester.

“We’re all going?” Dean piped in, his cheeks stuffed with fried bacon, “these are good, Y/N, you should cook often,” he complimented with another spoonful of bacon into his mouth.

After you guys finished your dinner, everyone dressed up and got ready.

The ride to the lake from the bunker was awkward and constricting, as you and the other three angels, Lucifer, Gabriel and Castiel had to sit together in the back, with you sitting on Castiel’s lap due to your small body. Lucifer constantly breaking into his infamous good morning song with his annoying voice.

“Lucifer, I swear if you don’t stop singing, I’ll drop you here in the middle of nowhere and let some animals have you for dinner,” Dean threatened, his glare evident in the atmosphere although you couldn’t see his face from behind.

“My legs are beginning to hurt,” Castiel who has been quiet the whole time announced, starting to get uncomfortable from the cramped space and your weight on his lap.

“C’mon, baby boy,” Gabriel cooed at you like he was trying to his coax a cat to come to him, and his arms spread wide open for you, “Come to big brother Gabriel.”

You laughed at his silliness and was about to change seats when you felt a sudden pull from behind. With a small ‘Ouch’ you landed in Lucifer’s lap, his signature smirk gracing his thin lips.

“You dick, you had him the whole week last week, isn’t that enough?” Gabriel asked his older brother as he attempted to snatch you from the death grip Lucifer have on your frail body. Gabriel’s action led to a massive battle that none of you could stop him and Lucifer, who were scratching and hitting each other like 8-year-olds, Castiel and you stuck in the middle.

In the end, you ended back in Castiel’s lap who wanted nothing but to break up the fight between the immature archangels, completely ignoring the pain and the numbness of his legs. As for the other angels, they were glaring at Castiel with such menace that a normal person would melt into puddles immediately, red scratch marks on his arms and faces.

Thankfully you guys arrived at the lake soon enough and finally got the chance to stretch your legs and prevent any fights from breaking out again.

The lake was just as you remembered decades ago, except that there were fewer trees and more houses situated on the grassy field. The chilly breeze pecked your skin like it used and the smell of nature and grandmas’ baked goods engulfed your nose the same way it did hundreds of years ago.

You quickly ran to your favorite spot which is a clearing with an oak tree in the middle of it; a wooden swing blanketed with a thin layer of weed swinging lazily to the wind.

“Is this the-?”

“Yes,” you replied to Castiel eagerly, the memories of Castiel and you spending extremely idle days in the summer and laying on the ground at night stargazing and talking about every subject that the two of you could come up flashing before your eyes.

“You guys know this place?” Dean questioned as he surveyed the peaceful surroundings, hazy recollections of rare days when he could have fun with Sam flooding into his mind. The both of you nodded at the same time grinned at each other like you were up to something.

“Tag?” You asked your brother and he nodded while the others were looking at you with disbelief.

“What are you, 5?” Dean chuckled mockingly, shaking his head.

“At least he doesn’t flirt like a horny teenager,” Lucifer defended, his hands on his hip and lips contorted into a knowing grin.

“Well, I don’t throw temper tantrums like a spoilt 5-year-old kid and have daddy issues,” Dean responded with sarcasm that rivaled the Devil.

“Can you guys stop, please?” You mumbled with disappointment, your eyes fixed on the ground. The quarreling went silent and you suddenly felt vulnerable when all of the eyes fell on you with tears in your eyes.

“He’s right, Dean, Luci,” Gabriel said seriously (for the first time in a while), “it’s the first time in a while we actually have time to ourselves and you two shitbags are fighting.”

Lucifer and Dean suddenly grew embarrassed and apologized to you quickly with remorse in their eyes.

“Alllright, now you guys do the handshake and we will play tag!” Gabriel suddenly went from serious to full hot chocolate as he grinned ear to ear maliciously.

“WHAT!? No!” Dean and Lucifer yelled in unison, startling you a bit as you jumped slightly. The two grown men glared at each other, their fists balled into fists.

“Do it, Dean,” Sam encouraged his brother, obviously failing to hide his amusement as his last word trailed into a low chuckle. Dean gave a ‘WTF-mixed-with-anger’ face to Sam and reluctantly grabbed the angel’s hand with such force that he came stumbling forward.

“So, Cas, you’ll be it and count to 10 before you start!” Your cheerful voice pierced the tension as you hurriedly grabbed Gabriel’s hand and took off in a direction. Dean was next and he was nowhere in sight when Castiel finished counting, leaving Sam the only one in sight.

After 15 minutes of the game, nobody was in sight except Dean who was having a beer on the wooden deck next to the lake.

There were a few seconds of silence until Sam voice yelling ‘Oh shit!’ penetrated the tranquillity, his body following behind, Dean stared at him quizzically until he spotted Castiel who was chasing his little brother like a fucking dinosaur.

Looked like someone got too much into the game.

Sam made his merry way to Dean who was clearly forbidding him not to which led both of the brothers taking off, poor Dean and his pitiful beer time.

Dean almost got away when he bumped into someone so hard that they went flying into the lake. Normally, he would run away but that someone wasn’t anyone but you!

As he was trying to pick you up from the lake, Sam ran into him and the three of you fell back into the warm lake with a loud ‘splash!’

You and Sam erupted into fits of laughter with a pissed Dean and a confused Cas who was simply confused about why the three of you were swimming in the lake.

He was about to ask when a force behind him sent him into the lake as well, the water dissolving his confusion with more confusion. Lucifer’s loud laugh boomed throughout the field, joined by yours, Sam’s and Dean’s.

Gabriel appeared behind his older brother and attempted to push Lucifer into the water but to have Lucifer sidestepped and his butt kicked into the lake. Gabriel emerged from the water seconds later and grumbled curse words at Lucifer who was still laughing his ass off.

“Luci, you totally win this one,” you giggled, pure happiness embracing your whole being, your face wrinkled with laughter.

“I know, sweetheart, now, catch me!”

“Wa-!”

You were just protesting when Lucifer came flying into your arms, you with a small body and weak arms failed to catch him and his weight sent the both of you sinking into the water. You thought you were going to drown when you were suddenly pulled to the surface by none other than your attacker, Lucifer.

Spitting out water, you glared at Lucifer and splashed water on his face. His annoyed feature bringing a smile to your feature. He threw a bucket of water at your way, later which was joined by the others splashing water at you.

After an hour of fun and water, all of you finally decided that it was enough and you climbed back to the ground, laying on the grass to let your clothes dry before going back as Dean would probably murder you if any water comes close his baby.

You were huddled between your brothers for warmth, their presence bringing a sense of safety to you although there was no danger, at the moment. You were so close to taking a nap when you felt something touched your nose.

“Boop! Wake up, cutie, we’re going,” Dean said as he helped you stand your ground, brushing dirt and grass on your clothes. You smiled at him before tugging on his sleeve (you were tugging on his heart too, with your cuteness).

“Wait, Dean!”

“Yeah?”

You came closer to him and looked up at him, a wide smile on your lips, “Thanks for bringing me here today… it-it was awesome! Thank you for your patience, Dean.”

Dean, in return, chuckled, his green eyes brightening with joy.

“Aww, come give me a hug,” said Dean, his arms opened for you.

Being an innocent little angel, you failed to notice the sarcasm in his voice and wrapped your shirt arms around his body, your face buried in his bottom chest, which made Dean burst out in laughter and hugged you back.

“You’re my best friend and I love you,” you giggled softly.

“I thought no chick-flick moments, Dean,” Sam teased, hands on his hips.

“He’s just jealous that you don’t hug him, Y/N,” Dean whispered into your ear as your pale cheeks turned into millions of red hues at the distance between you and Dean.

“C’mon here, Sammy, join our hug.”

“What? No, Dean!”

[autumnhobbit]

Bruce and Jason reconciliation where bruce convince jason to get profesional help (like he tried to do in his last will in the comics). Long talk about feelings ofc

Jason paused outside the door for a long moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Finally, he grasped the knob and turned it, pushing inside. Bruce was sitting at a table, facing the door, and he straightened slightly when Jason entered, a mix of emotions on his face. The main one, however, was relief. Jason knew him well enough to remember that much. He didn’t know if that emotion eased his fears or put him even more on-edge.

He shut the door behind him.

“Jason.” Bruce said.

“Bruce.” Jason replied.

There was a beat. “Sit down,” Bruce said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

Jason curled his hand into a fist. He’d agreed to show up to this stupid meeting where Bruce was doubtlessly going to try to manipulate him into doing who-knew-what, and he was still ordering him around like he was an obedient little child who–

“Please,” Bruce tacked on belatedly, cringing in self-reproach.

Jason took three swift steps forward and pulled the chair out with a screech, sitting down stiffly.

“…Well.” Bruce said awkwardly, and Jason rolled his eyes. He knew there was bound to be a reason why Bruce had called him—Bruce, inviting his estranged son to his house and practically begging him to meet peacefully without an ulterior motive? Please. But Jason didn’t know what the ulterior motive was, as of yet….and the nervous churning in his stomach was an inconvenient sign that he was a little afraid to find out what it was.

Bruce folded his hands together on the desk, and took a deep breath. “Jason. I, um. I wanted to speak with you for a reason.”

Yeah, no, duh. Jason leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

“It’s a reason that, I suspect, probably won’t be a comfortable subject for you, or something you’d ever want to discuss with me, but I want to address it in some form because…because I worry about you and I–” Bruce fumbled over the words for a moment. “I want you to be safe, and possibly even better than safe.”

The more Bruce spoke, the more Jason’s body language tensed up. By the time he’d finished that little opening statement, Jason was grinding his teeth and his heart was giving odd little flutters. There was a long pause.

“Well.” Jason gritted out. “Out with it.”

Bruce bit his lip, not meeting Jason’s eyes, his hands working as he clasped them atop the table. “Jason…” he said, slowly, painfully. “The life you live…I realize now is mostly my fault, and I take responsibility for it. I believe…I hope…that being able to make a practical impact on crime was a positive outlet for you…but I don’t know that, and I…” he sighed. “I don’t know if it still is.”

Jason’s mind raced as he puzzled over the words. A meaning stood out and his eyes widened. He shoved his chair back, standing up quickly.

“You won’t take the Hood from me,”  he growled, both hands in fists, now. “You can’t.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gah, Jason,” he said, sounding a mix between desperate and exasperated. “I’m not–I’m not going to take anything from you against your will. You’re an adult now, you can decide for yourself what to do. I’m asking you, as your father, to please just…hear me out and talk to me. I just want to…I know I haven’t done what I needed to, Jason. I’d…like to try to fix that now, if you’ll let me.”

Jason stood for a moment, chest heaving, hands still curled into fists. Finally he scoffed, and sat back down.

“You’re not my father,” he growled under his breath, pushing past the undeniable wrongness of the statement and the screaming in his head that knew exactly how cruel that was, because to the vindictive part of him, it was worth it just for the satisfaction.

Bruce’s face fell, and he dropped his gaze to the table again, but not before Jason caught a hint of…wetness? In his eyes? Guilt welled up in his throat, and he swallowed hard, pushing it back down into the corner of his mind.

There was a long, awkward pause.

“Jason,” Bruce finally said, hoarsely. “I was wrong.”

Jason’s gaze snapped up. “What?”

“I was wrong, and you were right. Sometimes killing can be necessary, in order to protect innocents. I hate it, but it’s true. However…” Bruce swallowed hard. “It’s not your job, or your responsibility to kill. You don’t deserve that.”

“Yeah, well who the fuck else is going to do it?” Jason asked scathingly, his arms locked across his chest. “The GCPD? Nightwing? You?”

Bruce closed his eyes tightly. “Jason…you know I can’t. I won’t.”

Jason’s jaw tightened to near-breaking. “Then nothing has changed, and there’s no reason for us to talk.” He pushed his chair back.

“Jay…” Bruce’s voice cracked, and Jason froze. “Please.”

Cursing himself, and probably chipping a tooth, Jason sat back down.

“Jason.” Bruce’s hands were folded tight on the desk. “I…I’ve gotten to a point where I don’t think you’re wrong that sometimes defense requires deadly force. My concern is…that with all you’ve been through, you might not be able to tell when it’s warranted.”

Jason’s hands clamped down on his chair. “You’re insinuating that I’m compromised?” He said, almost sweetly, through his teeth. “You think I’m just some psycho killer who doesn’t give a care who gets hurt so long as my interests are protected?”

Bruce met his gaze. “No. I know you’re not. That’s why it worries me.”

Jason didn’t know what to say to that. 

Bruce went on. “I’m never going to condemn you for protecting your own life when it’s threatened, or protecting an innocent when their life is threatened. But outside of that, Jason…” Bruce sighed. “It can have consequences, for you, and for the rest of us. Legal ones, moral ones, mental ones, physical ones, emotional ones. We’re already breaking the law by a significant standard. The Commissioner allows us to operate because we keep things to a certain line and he needs our help. I don’t think he’ll lose any sleep over someone who attacked you with a knife getting a bullet to the shoulder, but to the head? That might be pushing our luck a little too much.”

Jason scoffed. “You think the Commissioner’s going to come after you people? He knows you wouldn’t kill someone if they were actively stabbing you. Or are you worried that I’ll just drag the rest of you down…?”

“Damnit, Jason!” Bruce’s hand slammed down on the desk, and Jason tensed right up without meaning to. “I don’t want to lose you again!”

Jason’s eyes got wide as saucers. He stared as Bruce sank down, pressed his hand against his eyes.

“I don’t care about your issues. They’re not enough to make me give up on you. But I can’t…I can’t keep doing this, Jay.” He sounded broken, hopeless. “I can’t keep trying and trying and getting no real response. I, I have no idea whether you want to stay or not, or whether you want to be part of the family or not, or whether our relationship matters enough to you for you to want to fix it, or–or anything. And I can’t, Jason. I can’t keep pulling all the weight. I don’t want to give up on you, but I can’t fix it alone. I just can’t.”

Jason swallowed hard, his eyes burning. He…he knew he was intentionally harsh about Bruce and his failures, but…was Bruce really doubting? That Jason had ever loved him?

Of course he had. Bruce had meant the world to him. That was why he’d been so crushed.

“Jay?” Bruce sounded almost resigned, but with a hint of concern and trepidation. Jason tried to meet his eyes, but couldn’t.

“What are you suggesting?” He finally asked, almost inaudibly.

It was silent for a long moment.

“I…” Bruce swallowed, hesitant. “I know there are a lot of things about you, and your feelings and experiences that I don’t understand. And I know that trying to discuss them with just the two of us will never get us anywhere. So I…” Bruce sighed. “I think we should look for an outside party.”

“Hell no. I’m not going to a shrink.” Jason bit out instantly.

“Jason, it doesn’t have to be anyone here,” Bruce groaned, rubbing his eyes again. “We could go to someone in the League, or even someone you trust who’s just good at listening and interpreting and whatever. They don’t have to be licensed if you don’t want. But we need an outside perspective, someone who isn’t embroiled in our mess every day and someone who isn’t too compromised with personal biases to be fair. I think that would help.”

Jason worried the inside of his cheek with his teeth. The idea of having to admit to some of the things he’d gone through, and the things he’d thought and felt, in Bruce’s presence sounded like one of his nightmares. He was emphatically not eager to talk about any of this stuff, now or ever.

But…was keeping his secrets worth tearing everyone else up? Was it fair to Bruce, or to the others?

Was he really ready to take the alternative and leave them all behind to go his own way? How long could he reasonably play both sides without doing irreversible damage?

He didn’t want to leave forever. He’d been angry, and he still was, but he’d never been able to act on his anger. Hell, he’d tried to kill Bruce–wasn’t he, logically, the only one who deserved to die for his own failings?

But he didn’t deserve to die, either. Jason had known that even while his thumb hovered over the button. Killing Bruce wouldn’t be justice. It would be cold-blooded murder.

Jason bit his tongue. “F-fine.” He gritted out, a half-stutter.

Bruce’s chin snapped up. “What?”

“I’ll do it.” Jason breathed.

“You will?” Bruce sounded hesitant to accept that it had been this easy.

“Yes, I’ll come to your fuckin’ meetings.” Jason growled scathingly. He refused to move his gaze from the desk. He wasn’t willing to see Bruce’s expression.

“Thank…” Bruce swallowed. “Thank you, Jay.”

Jason scowled, and got up. “Don’t thank me yet.” He turned and stalked off towards the kitchen, shutting the door firmly behind him. He swore he could feel Bruce’s stupid smile on his neck for the rest of the night.

(Ao3 link here.)

[perfect-corroscience]

Chapter 34: The Light of Devotion

“The seeds of that fate were sown here.”

Previously, a rebellion occurred. It was swiftly handled, but was a pyrrhic victory: Proto was damaged, the Oxsecians found selection was bias in favor of the royal family, despite (in some cases) their genes saying otherwise, and finally Oxsecia imploded. It was not a good day for anyone, really.

34-1 It had to live solely for its objective – as Proto had.

Whereas chapter 33 had Electric enemies, this chapter will have Ice enemies for most of it. This is a bad team to bring, for reasons that will become fairly clear.

Side note: this was done during a half-stamina event. It was originally 24 stamina, then a later update reduced it to 20.

           Though despairing, the Oxsecian king could not simply stand by while his people destroyed each other in a civil war.

           Animata was responsible for all of it. This tragedy started with her.

           It wasn’t the king alone. Rancor towards Animata was swelling among the people. The only way to cleanse it was to strike at the root.

           Options were few. They no longer even had a place to call home. He needed to take up the banner and lead the fight against her.

           The king’s hand rested on Proto’s remains.

           They needed a symbol. An unstoppable weapon that sought only bloodshed and destruction. It had to live solely for its objective – as Proto had.

           36AIS was sound asleep. Gazing at her peaceful face on a nearby monitor, the king declared his intentions aloud.

           “…We shall dispose of the unfit.”

           The hand gripping Proto’s remains trembled almost imperceptibly.

              That resolution went into effect almost immediately.

           Those branded unnecessary to the cause of the Oxsecian people frantically sought escape. Shunned and stigmatized by the public, they howled their resentment, raged, and desperately fought back.

           Ironically, they proved unfit in this, too. The royal forces crushed their resistance as easily as ants.

           The king saw their pain. But it only convinced him that these weak links were his people’s biggest obstacle to destroying Animata.

           Emotion often clouds judgement and vision, leading us off course.

           The Oxsecian ship, meanwhile, reached its destination. The unfit would be exiled here.

Welp.

Four battles, with ice enemies. Both are pretty annoying; the Ice Golem’s Blizzard attack hits everyone, and the Snow Spook’s Icy Counter hits fairly hard.

As shown.

The wiki claims the last battle has four of these guys at level 75, but my image order says they’re apparently level 78. I guess it’s not that big a difference either way.

Still, they can hurt, especially if you get multiple attacks hitting your team. I came into this last floor with everyone alive.

By the end, the team’s been halved. Amazora’s only alive because she has Anti-Ice Shield as a skill. Pretty sure this would’ve been a wipe if I didn’t have Gatz or Rikken on the team and instead went with frailer units.

34-2 You’ve been assigned to take them to the execution grounds.

Now this is a team that’s more suited for much of this chapter. It helped that I’d managed to yolo roll Koko and Lewto a while back. (This is not the first time I’ve gotten some useful units in this game from that…)

If I hadn’t rolled them, hard to say how I’d manage in all honesty. I never worked on getting Bahamut or his recode until chapter 40 because I just never had Piz’fer a lot of Ice units prepped and able to reliably clear Bahamut Ultra until recently, but he’s a fantastic free unit and really good for this chapter.

If I were diligent at the time in gathering the materials, I could have recoded Lewto and Koko, which would also make things easier. Still, even just having those two helped. Currently, you could probably field a team that’s either all-Fire or a mix of Fire and Solar units, something like  Bahamut^/Lewto^/flex/flex/flex/flex, and coast through much of this chapter.

They have execution grounds on the old hunting place… So what, does this entail leaving them to fend off wild animals? A nice place to sit and freeze to death?

Icebind is fun and familiar to anyone who has Leviathan^. It freezes anyone caught in the radius, preventing them from moving/acting, and works a lot like petrification in many JRPGs in that if they’re attacked (pincered, in this case), they shatter and die even if they would’ve normally survived the pincer.

The other, similar looking enemy is a Mini Frostshroom, which just has Glacier, Area (1).

Icebind can be cured with Panacea or blocked with a Dragon’s Badge/Amulet (Icebind Guard) or Dragon’s Talisman/Buckler (Icebind Ward), but those are CoT/F otomos. Easiest thing to do is just avoid being in range and pincer the mushroom horizontally.

34-3 “He needs someone who understands him.”

Another new stage, another new enemy. Are those little beady eyes? How cute!

Things sometimes got dicey for the team, but Sorman and Rikken are there to keep everyone’s health topped off.

34-4 A heavy thud shakes the area.

You can tell I covered this a long time ago since there’s no Solar/Lunar signs, stamina cost was 24, and co-op mode is still present. Anyway, I show this because there was a fatal error – namely, having units with odd levels for reasons you’ll see shortly.

You’d think, but even in real life, this is so rarely the case…

The boss of 34-4 is Layla. She’s not very nice and opens by confusing anyone who isn’t evenly leveled or lacks Confusion Guard/Ward (whether by skill or otomo equip) for nine turns. You really don’t want anyone confused, especially when the stage is packed full of enemies like this one.

Confused units do not take part in pincers, so that’s fun. I guess if you have to bring someone odd-leveled (tired of level grinding?), you could bring along someone with Clarity (Kana, R’zonzand, Palpa) or otherwise able to cure status effects.

I didn’t, so it’s just a real bad time for everyone.

Let’s try that again with better levels. Incidentally, for this stage, it plays The Shattered Land instead of the regular boss music.

It’s a vast improvement; I can actually get in some pincers and clear out the Ice mooks. Anything that helps kill them is another thing keeping the team from being overwhelmed.

Everyone can even get to work chipping Layla’s health down. From what I’ve seen, she’ll use Blizzard once she starts getting low on HP.

3 turns in, there’ll be a message that says, “Poised to strike back…” and Layla will start glowing. Avoid pincering her during this time; she has a hidden skill called Icy Retribution where she counters pincers with 8x physical and ice damage counterattacks. As a reference, the strongest attacks have a 3.5x multiplier – getting hit by this is generally a total party kill.

The game cheekily describes the skill with “Let sleeping dragons lie.” She can be hurt indirectly though; even if she’s hit by AoE skills, Magic Bombs, your own units’ counterattacks from pincering the mooks or vice-versa, she won’t retaliate against those.

If you don’t pincer her, you’ll get the message “Counterattack disrupted” and she’ll use Icefall instead.

The Treants aren’t as threatening, but they can do a lot of damage if they group up and gang up on a few of your units or move in ways where you can’t really make a good pincer or heal someone about to die.

Once the mooks are gone, it’s just a matter of slowly chipping her down, ideally with vertical pincers instead of this.  

34-5 All the years Proto spent with the king were wiped clean.

           Amongst those memories is a father's strangled cry of anguish at having to abandon his daughter.

It's a recording of the king's voice. An auxiliary battery was evidently running after Proto's main power supply shut down.

A scientist hits the delete command with a practiced movement.

“...Error?”

The command is rejected. Resistance from Proto, perhaps?

“Bah. We have enough data already. Just format it.”

And with that, all the years Proto spent with the king are wiped clean.

 Meanwhile, your party is still embroiled in battle with the alien beasts, never dreaming that such a thing is happening aboard the ship.

 Godspeed, Proto.

Another new face. These guys cast a spell that curses anyone in range so they die in three turns. Notably, they can drop a Demon’s Tear otomo, but do people even use Demon’s Chronicles to farm SB still…?

When killed, they lift the curse, though.

Everything else is just standard fare, though.

34-6 That’s no reason to give up on the lives of the people right in front of you.

The crystals from Crystal Road/Roundelay show up to be a gimmick for three-fourths of this stage’s floors. They don’t behave any differently, so chains aren’t blocked.

Here’s Rossi’s Hex in action.

And here’s the team just laughing off a Blizzard.

34-7 Turning around, you and the exiles begin the long trek back.

Word suggested “a close up of a logo” for this image’s alt text. Great.

           “The Oxsecian ship’s explosion triggered a curious phenomenon,” says another familiar voice.

           It’s Peprope.

           “The place you’re located in is someone’s memory.”

           “Memory…? What are you saying?”

           “The details can wait. But the gateway between there and here will undoubtedly open very soon.”

             How can anyone possibly know this?

           Many have reportedly come into contact with some sort of memory in similar fashion. Some have already awakened.

           “Memory, eh…”

           “Perfect. Let’s see the king’s fate through to the end.”

           And so you resolve to take on the Oxsecian king. Turning around, you and the exiles begin the long trek back.

So we’re ensuring the timeline is stable. Nifty. Anyway, there’re five battles, all against the icy mooks seen before.

34-8 You’ve declared open rebellion against the king.

By then, we’ve reached civilization (of a sort), so I can swap the team around again.

Now we are the rebels.

Face-to-face with the Oxsecians again. I kind of wish there was something on the pre-battle screen that’d indicate if there was a non-elemental or weaponless enemy.

34-9 “Turned traitor, have you?”

Memorable, I suppose, but not memorable to get a unique sprite or be a boss himself.

Word alt text says, “this is an image containing text.”

gee thanks

I can only imagine how annoying this might be if there were just a bunch of those wild mooks out there to snow on everyone. It’d be rather reminiscent of everything that happened in the first few chapters after crashing on Planet Beastbait, though.

Also, that recruitment was actually just a drop for a Pig’s Amulet. Why not, I guess.

Some of the party cut things close.

34-10 Its name is Prototype Zero.

This is the team I’ll be using. You’ll notice that except for Rikken, everyone is B or A rank. 34-10 can be beaten with a team like this, helped when everyone is pretty much at level 90, equipped with some good otomos (Pahrl, for instance, has the otomo that gives her Terabow). 

Of course there’s the fact that I’m bringing two-thirds of the Holy Trinity to this fight. Bahl and S’naip will be the main heavy hitters, and Rikken can dish out a good amount of damage too while acting as my mover.

Pahrl and Korin were brought to help bolster their respective weapon users’ stats, and their Defense +30% skills are one of the many things I used to make sure Bahl and S’naip survive enemy attacks. Sorman is there for healing (taken over Kuscah since he has slightly better defense), has a Regen Cane (A rank otomo, casts Mega Regen, chain) and Rikken has Heal, All to help a little.

34-10 is just a single battle, much like 30-10. It’s essentially the final boss of part 1.5; so let’s pull up the ol’ boss tunes, but the live version for a change.

Music: The World’s Awakening/Day of Reckoning (Live vers.)

Prototype Zero starts the fight with a huge lock-on; ideally you move everyone out the blast radius.

The turn after locking on, he’ll cast Ultima Assault, a non-elemental magical attack. Speaking of magic, he’s more resistant to it; not only is his magical defense stat higher, but he also has Magic Deflector (though I’ve never seen it be used). However, this isn’t a case where a team of mages or to a lesser extent non-crappy spellblades can’t win.

As you can see, I instead opted to do a triple pincer to damage Zero, but more importantly, clear out one of the Oxsecian machines and get some buffs up on the team. I would not recommend doing this normally – but hey, let’s see: how bad can Ultima Assault be?

Ow shit yeah that’s pretty bad

Prototype Zero will cycle through his skills (Breath Attack and Synergy Wave), while also summoning these mooks.

They will, on the turn they’re summoned, use their respective seal ability and severely neuter the physical attack stat of the corresponding weapon-users. It’s not a bad idea to bring a varied team for this reason, or, probably better, a strong mage. Just pincer with anyone who hasn’t been debuffed and work on clearing them out.

When Prototype Zero starts glowing, he’s rearing up to use System Repair. This is the chance to double pincer and get some damage in; hitting hard enough will disrupt him and prevent the healing.

Eventually, he cycles back to telegraphing Ultima Assault.

This was a good chance to kill him.

I missed getting a screencap of him fading away, so I went back and entered the stage again, killing Zero in around ~5 or so turns.

The nifty thing is that you’ll generally (re: 75% chance) get either a Mantle or Deepwater Helix and Metal Minion^ (guaranteed) for clearing this boss.

Also worth noting: 34-10 has a hard mode! To quote the Terra Battle wiki:

Start stage 34.10 during 00:00–00:59 or 12:00–12:59 UTC to access Hard Mode. Compared to the normal 34.10 stage, Hard Mode enemies have 50 more levels, 3 times the HP, and 1.2 times the ATK, DEF, MATK, MDEF. Hard Mode will also give x2 EXP and x4.5 coins. The boss Prototype Zero is guaranteed to drop the Avengers companion after being defeated in Hard Mode.

Avengers is an S class otomo that gives the unit Counterattack. Useful if you want to cover another skill phase to SBing...?

           “The loathsome Animata is threatening not only the lives of our kin but the existence of our entire race. We must weather this storm together, for we have only ourselves to rely on.

           “Look around you at the fellow countrymen who stand at your side. You are all comrades and equals, chosen to fulfill a common destiny. Social standing, origin, age are all irrelevant. We have all lost too much, and we must all fight to ensure those sacrifices were not suffered in vain.

           “We are a chosen elite, supreme specimens of our race, and we are tasked with a common cause:

           We must hunt Animata down and annihilate her. We shall have retribution.”

             Thus began the long war against Animata. The seeds of that fate were sown here.

            A dazzling light blooms in the heavens. Then it is gone, along with the Oxsecian ship.

             All those who were locked in combat around the Life Breeder stand stunned and breathless. Humans, lizardfolk, beastfolk, stonefolk, the Oxsecian children with identical faces, even the wild alien creatures – all stand transfixed, gazing up at the empty sky.

           “It’s… beautiful.”

           As glowing debris from the Oxsecian ship disperses, a warm glimmer illuminates the heavens. It is as bright and unfaltering as the devotion born of a lifelong friendship.

Finally, it’s worth noting that upon clearing this chapter, 54B2 and 36AIS are added to the Pact of Truth/Fate. 54B2 is a Z class sword unit and 36AIS is a SS class healer.

36AIS is unfortunately not that great of a healer compared to the SS class Amis or even Sorman and Kuscah. I really wish she’d been like Amimari/Amina/A’misandra in terms of skills, or that she’d gotten a recode that brought her skills in line with Amina/A’misandra’s recodes, since otherwise all she has going for her is having Heal All and pretty art.

54B2 is a bit better, but by this point he’s not as useful as he might have been upon his release. Sure you could use him, and he’s not the worst unit to have, but why not just use Bahl^ and/or Suoh^? Some might consider him a troll rainbow pull, and considering the rarity of Z class units and how gacha games operate, that’s kind of a concerning thought.

Well... to not end an update being a Debbie Downer like in the past, I’ll conclude this by saying that this brings part 1.5 to a close! Chapter 35 will mark part 2 - and afterwards I’ll have for the most part caught up to where I was when I took a hiatus. 

Fun fact: the word doc for this chapter is 73 pages and roughly 2600 words. That’s kind of a personal record, actually. I don’t think anything is going to be topping that besides a 7SU lp update or some of the shit I’ve got planned to play.

[iambatman-me]

We could be immortals, just not for long (Klaine)

Summary- Blaine just wanted to escape. Little did he know that he would stumble across his truth. Percy Jackson au

Chapter 2- Beauty and Brawn

When Blaine comes back into consciousness, he thinks he is dead. Because the boy sitting next to him is definitely an angel with his God-given facial bone structure and swooping chestnut hair (but wait, according to his step-father it wouldn’t be heaven that would welcome him). But was it supposed to hurt this much in the afterlife? Blaine must have groaned involuntarily because the angel opened his eyes; eyes which were too blue to have a name for.

“Do you want water? Or maybe more ambrosia?” the angel spoke and dear god, even his voice was heavenly. Blaine tried to give a witty response to impress the guy but what came out was an embarrassing croak. “Water it is,” said the angel as he stood up and fetched a jug and a glass from across the room on two very long, lean legs (clearly the “gay” did not leave Blaine even after death).

“My name is Kurt Hummel,” introduced the angel as he held the glass of water to Blaine’s mouth for him to sip.

“Isn’t your kind supposed to have names like Castiel and not human ones like Kurt?” said Blaine after he had sipped half the glass.

Instead of confirming or laughing, Kurt looked offended and said defensively, “I would rather not be associated to my kind. Only Beyoncé can pull off single names. And my father, my “real” father, gave me this name.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Blaine backtracked.

Kurt sighed, “I am sorry I got defensive. I just don’t like being reminded of myself. Let us talk about more interesting things. What is your name, kid?”

“My name is Blaine. But wait “kid”? We are probably the same age,” Blaine countered.

“Oh, we definitely are not. I am way older than you”

“Well, if that is so, do tell me which skin care routine you use because you do not look older than sixteen,” replied Blaine sarcastically.

“I can recommend you moisturizing regimes. I don’t need one. At least one good thing came out of this cursed immortality,” Kurt finished wryly. Blaine looked for a cue for him to laugh but none came. Kurt seemed to be serious.

“I am lost,” Blaine confessed. “What exactly are you? Also where am I? Because I don’t think Hell is supposed to be this clean.”

“Wait, I thought you had an idea about me when you referred to the gods. Also why would you be in hell?”

“Gods? Am I part of some elaborate prank,” Blaine craned around for hidden cameras. Finding nothing, he turned back to Kurt and said blankly, “Hell because I am gay.”

“I guess I have some explaining to do. I must have confused you more with my ramblings,” Kurt shook his head. “Also just because you are gay, doesn’t mean you will go to hell. Hell doesn’t exist and most of the gods are at least sexually fluid. I mean Zeus literally kidnapped a dude for himself. Which actually should not shock anyone. He has done so much worse, like the time- Oh screw, I am again rambling. What I meant is if god is the only one that can judge us, he doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on. Zeus, the king of gods, has many, many flaws. On the topic of where we are, I guess I am your welcoming committee to Camp Half-blood. It only goes downhill from here and the only time you can leave this place is to go on life-threatening quests. Hoorah!”

Ignoring the first half of Kurt’s remarks because they just made his head hurt more by thinking, Blaine frowned and said, “It’s kind of rude to call me half-blood just because I am of mixed race. Unless you mean Hogwarts is real and that my father is a wizard.”

Kurt looked stricken at that statement, “Oh no! I did not mean that racially. Or in the magical sense which actually would be way better than our current predicament. No my dear sir, you are a demigod, half human and half god. Thus half-blood.” At Blaine’s half-confused, half-scared expression (half hah!), Kurt decided to explain more, “You must have heard of the Greek Gods- Zeus, Poseidon, the like?” At Blaine’s nod, Kurt continued, “Well they are real. One of your parent is probably one. That is why the hellhound was able to smell you out. It could smell the divinity in you”

“The big dog that attacked me was a hellhound?”

“Yup, Hades’ pets. You must have wondered what the monster was, given its size, stench and pointy teeth,” Kurt bared his teeth to imitate the hellhound (it was too cute to ever resemble the real thing).

“Great, monsters are real. And I thought only my step-father was the real deal. But does all this god stuff mean you know who my father is?” Blaine said hopefully. Blaine had always wondered about his father. His mom rarely spoke about him and Blaine stopped asking when he realized how sad his mother got at the mention of his father. It was inevitable that Blaine would daydream about meeting his father someday and fall into his welcoming arms like a scene out of a soap opera. He never outgrew that dream.

Kurt hesitated with his answer and seemed like he knew what Blaine was thinking. “We cannot confirm your parentage unless your parent decides to claim you. And even then, you have to understand that the gods are worse than dead-beat parents. The only time they dip into mortal realm is to meddle with things. They barely show parental affection and even then, it is to manipulate situations for their own gains.”

“Wow, which parent of yours hurt you so bad?”

Kurt smiled ruefully, “Not parent but parents. I am the son of Aphrodite and Hephaestus. One of the few legitimate off springs of the pantheon and that has made me a prime target.”