#he's given a lot of people a good fright over the years without really intending to

[lctibule]

friendly and not at all alarming reminder that genji's eyes glow red in the dark.

[jackandthesoulmates]

Kissing people, forgetting things.

Title: Kissing people, forgetting things

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27478216

Summary: When finds out that Sam and Jack don't take the case seriously, he decides to punish them.

Created for @samwinchesterbingo / @deanandsambingo

Square Filled: Sam/Jack/Dean, Established Relationship, Smut, Polyamory, BDSM

Rating: 18+, explicit

Pairing : Sam/Jack/Dean

Tags/Warnings: Threesome, Smut, bondage, Daddy/kitten kink, Dom!Dean, Switch!Sam, Sub!Jack

Word Count: ~3.9k

Creator’s Note: It's @ficforthought's fault. That's all I can say in my defense. 

Jack chuckled, face burning red and his heart racing. Adrenaline flushed all trough his body. Was he really doing that? Right now? Here? On a case? But there was no hesitation, only arousal and he couldn't say no to Sam. Ever.

Sam smirked, placing kisses on Jack's neck and having his hands under Jack's shirt already. „It's fine, trust me“, he purred. „It will be fine, honey.“

„Hah but Sam... when Dean finds out, and he will-“, Jack drew a sharp breath when Sam's big hands, his big and warm hands wandered across his hips and further down in Jack's pants.

„Kiss me, honey.“ Sam's words made Jack shiver in anticipation. He looked up in Sam's hazel eyes and leaned into a kiss. First it was soft and gentle but soon Sam wrapped his hands around Jack's middle, holding him close. Jack escaped a soft moan and that's when they got to hold each other tight, hands tracing fabric and trying to sneak under several layers. „Good“, Sam whispered on Jack's trembling lips. „Dean taught you quite a lot already...“ Jack blushed and buried his face in his caretaker's flannel. „He did...“,  he finally muttered. „More, Sam... please...“

Sam wasn't surprised that Jack wanted more. He was eager and curious and horny. For a kid that should barely be old to go to school. But he had ages so fast, and his mind matured so quickly it was hard to keep track. But what was a kid like Jack without the practical experiences? He knew nothing about the world but seemed like an adult already. Appearances are often deceiving. And Sam was more than willing to give Jack more. Everything.

That's why Sam didn't hesitate. He kissed Jack again, parted his lips and moaned silently into the kiss. Echoing Jack's soft and shaky moans.

„You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me right now!“

When Jack and Sam heard Dean's voice, loud and clear both jumped in surprise and fright.

„We're on a case and you have nothing better to do than... make out? In a dark alley? Really, Sam?“

So far Dean's voice didn't really sound surprised neither disappointed. But there was an edge in it and Sam knew it. Jack wasn't used to it until now that's why he turned around, his face deep red and his voice high pitched.

„Sorry Dean, I... we – we umm...“ Jack lifted his shoulders helplessly.

„You what, kitten?“ Dean came closer. His suit was open, tie loosened. The word kitten sent a tingle down Jack's spine and he was still insecure on how to act when Dean used it. No one else but those three seemed to be around. There was traffic nearby and the humming made Jack feel dizzy.

„I'm sorry, we didn't mean to. It just...!“ Jack shot a look at Sam, but his partner didn't seem to make any effort to help in this situation.

And Sam really didn't intend to help. It was part of their game. Sam's and Dean's. Their relationship has gained a new perspective when Jack entered the couple and they became a triad. All of this here was consensual, Jack loved the thrill. And the slight embarassment. And when Dean used his nickname for Jack it was more than clear that it was an invitation for all three to play. Instead of helping, Sam showed a smug grin and laid a hand in Jack's back, pushing forward.

„We couldn't help it, Dean. Jack wants me, what can I say? I just gave him what he wanted.“

Jack stiffened and then gave Sam a grudging look. „And what about you?!“

Sam just pushed him further towards Dean. And Dean now looked at Sam, eyes playfully narrowed. Sam knew the look. He wouldn't get away easily, too. But he was more experienced than Jack and he knew what he wanted. „Gave him what he wanted, huh?“

Dean's green eyes focused on Sam. He squared his shoulders, showing off that he maybe was shorter than Sam, but definitely the dominant one here.

„Yes“, Sam replied, still maintaining eye contact.

And when Dean finally stood in front of them, Sam seemed to look smaller now. And Jack felt dizzy, breathless. And feeling the tension built up, he wanted to cling onto Sam and beg first Sam then Dean to do whatever they liked.

„Seems to be both of you act like cats in heat. Don't put all the blame on the kitten. He's barely able to control himself.“

Dean was so close now, Jack could smell his perfume. He gasped and looked up to Dean, pleading. „I'm so sorry...“ He said, but Dean laid a finger on his open mouth. „Shh, kitten. You know you messed up, right?“

Jack nodded, holding back tears of embarassment. „I know. And you know what happens when you mess up, right? I have to punish you.“

Jack nodded again. Now supressing a sob. Dean's thumb gently rubbed over Jack's lower lip before he laid his hand on Jack's throat. He didn't try to choke Jack, not at all. It was a gesture of dominance, of 'you know where you belong, kitten' and Jack shivered. Dean placed his other hand on Sam's throat, but he was less gentle with his brother. Sam gulped but let it happen.

„And you, … baby. You should've known better. What did I say about giving in to kitten's attempts to seduce you, hmm? Tell me.“

Sam's voice was a whisper. „I have to ask for permission, master...“

Now it was Sam, signalling he interpreted the situation as playful. He gave Jack an assuring look.

„Did you ask for permission, baby?“

Sam wanted to shake his head but Dean's grip around his throat was tightening when he tried. He then said, sighing „No I didn't, master.“

Dean's eyes lightened up. He let go of both his partners and turned around.

„Seems like my needy boys will need a lesson in obedience. To the car. Both of you. Now.“

Jack gave Sam a look and then whispered. „You did this on puporse, Sam!“

Sam's answer was a chuckle and when he got to the car, following Dean he chirped „Thank me later.“

The car ride was silent and Dean had abandoned both of them to the back seat. Always back checking the mirror if his partners would start grabbing each other again.

But Jack was heavily intimidated by Dean's dominant persona, he didn't even dare to look at Sam. It was thrilling and embarassing at the same time and Jack was still getting used to all of it. In all his uneasiness of the situation he enjoyed the attention of Dean and Sam equally. Sam however was kind of a brat type and liked to tease Dean's dark side. He actively initiated atmospheres of sexual tension, like in the alley. It was Sam's need for Dean's attention. Even when the attention meant punishment later.

Back at the bunker, Dean let Sam and Jack lead the way to their shared rooms deep down the halls. And when they entered their sleeping room, Dean closed the door with a loud thud.

Jack jumped at the noise and turnt around just to see Dean taking off his tie with one smooth but sudden move. „You messed up, kitten. And you know I hate punishing you.“ Jack whimpered at the sight. Sam was suspiciously silent. „I- I'm sorry... daddy...“ Jack then managed to say, his voice husky.

„No more words, kitten. Get naked. Both of you.“

Sam's movements were sly while Jack struggled to undress himself the way Dean liked it. First their shirts, then pants, underwear. Socks. Sam always folded his clothes and put them on a chair nearby and since Jack learned from him, he did the same. Dean looked over to them supervising them. When Sam and Jack were completely naked, Dean ordered „kneel.“

Jack got down on his knees, sitting on heels, head up, hands on his thighs. Palms pointed upwards. Sam did the same. It was fascinating for Jack to see Sam like this. Sam was usually a warrior, like Dean. And he never let anyone boss him around. Except Dean. In this room.

„Good. Stay.“

And then Dean left the room. Jack knew that Dean would now shower and get ready for what was about to come. He would let his submissives wait, like usual. And while in Jack a lot of emotions drove a rollercoaster, Sam was perfectly calm. Jack sometimes envied Sam for his calmness, he knew it was learned. After years of servitude. And Sam and Dean were into much heavier kink than Jack and they wouldn't let him accompany them in harder sessions. Yet.

Jack's knees and heels started hurting but he knew he had to hold still. He didn't even dare to breathe loudly as long as Dean wasn't back and allowed him to move.

It took Dean at least half an hour to come back and by now Jack felt numb and itchy everywhere, while Sam had gotten in a trance like state. He even smiled, while he looked down at his own palms that laid perfectly still on Sam's thighs.

Dean closed the door again with a loud thud. He was in a new suit, it smelled of fresh cotton and Dean's deodorant.

„Did kitten behave?“ Dean asked. Sam didn't look up, just whispered „Yes, Master.“

Jack always felt belittled when Dean talked like Jack wasn't there but it was part of their game and deep down he loved how both cared about him. In their own ways.

„Get up. Only Sam.“ And Sam stood up, mumbling a devoted „Yes, Master.“

Because he wasn't given permission to look up, Jack only could hear the rustling of the sheets when Sam got on the bed. The following sounds weren't new to Jack either. It was the clattering of handcuffs. Dean and Sam had a silent conversation and all Jack could identify was Sam's sub voice and Dean's gentle praise. „You're such a good boy tonight, Sammy. You're sorry you disobeyed, huh?“ It sounded like a mother soothing its child and Jack felt a jolt of arousal when he overheard their communication. He wanted to be on this bed so badly himself.

„Kitten? Get up. Come here.“

Jack couldn't get up as fast as he wanted to. And when he looked over to the king size bed, Sam laid on his back, arms tied together with one of Dean's belts to the brass bed frame. Sam was clearly aroused, his cock hard and already leaking pre-cum. And Dean still fully dressed, besides the missing belt, stood in front of the bed, seemingly desinterested in Sam's appearance. Jack's stomach twisted in the best way.

Slowly he approached Dean, now looking down, obviously aroused at Sam's sight. And Sam looked at Jack, with teary, hungry eyes.

„I decided, now that you two can't get even keep your hands off each other on a case, I will punish you, by... well, you see. See how badly Sammy wants you? Look.“ Dean reached down and slowly, teasingly jerked Sam's cock. Sam thrusted in Dean's palm, desperately, panting slightly. „He's so needy to feel your tight little hole around his cock, he would probably accept any punishment by now... just to have it.“ Jack looked at Dean's moving hand. Mesmerized. And Dean's words only made it harder for Jack to contain his own needy whines.

Dean stopped jerking Sam and looked over to Jack, whose eyes grew wider and wider. „But... we all know both of you don't deserve it. You embarassed me. Both of you. Someone could've seen you!“

Jack muttered „I'm sorry, De-- daddy... I didn't mean to..“. But he knew his words wouldn't change anything by now.

„Hush, kitten. Get on top of Sam.“

With shaking legs Jack climbed onto the bed and he was about to spread his legs over Sam's cock to let him in when Dean got a grip of Jack's hair and pulled. Just slightly, but enough for Jack to whimper and moan and stop in his movements.

„What. Did. I. Say? Did I allow you to fuck my brother?“

„N-no daddy...“ Jack whimpered, tears in his eyes.

„Exactly. I didn't. I said, get on top of him. Place your head on his chest, lie down on him, legs spread, let your knees carry your weight. And then spread your cute little hole for me and I'll think about what I will do to you.“ Jack buried his face on Sam's neck as he did what Dean wanted him to do. When he placed himself he could feel his cock rubbing against Sam's and both gasped a little. Sam's heartbeat wasn't that steady now, his heart pounded hard and fast against Jack's sensitive skin. It was embarassing to spread his legs, lower his body on Sam's and then, with his hands, spread his butt cheeks apart. Jack could feel his hole clench and loosen again. It was humiliating to be upon Sam like this and showing Dean how needy he was.

„Look at that your greedy hole, kitten.“ Dean purred. Jack couldn't see what Dean was doing, he still hid his face on Sam's chest but he felt Dean's warm hand on his skin, cupping his buttcheek and then, a gentle slap. Jack gasped. Damn.

„And you wanted Sammy to fuck you right?“

Jack nodded. „Yes, daddy... I wanted Sam to fuck me in that alley... I was ready for it, daddy...“

„And you wouldn't have asked for permission first, would you?“

When Dean talked like that he sounded like a satisfied, full lion, rolling on his back to let the sun shine on his fur. It was silky and warm and oh so dangerous to hear him talk like that.

There was no denying it, so Jack replied with a shaky voice. „No, daddy... I wouldn't have asked for permission... I was so desperate for Sam's big cock I.. I can't resist...“

Sam beneath Jack uttered a moan. And Dean laughed. „You two are really needy. So fucking needy.“ Another gentle slap on Jack's ass.

„Oh God“, he moaned. Just fuck me already...

„You can't wait for it, kitten?“ Dean laughed again. Rough now. And his hand disappeared. Instead Jack heard how Dean pulled down the zipper of his pants. And then – Jack almost cried in anticipation, he felt Dean's hard throbbing cock teasing Jack's hole.

„No, I can't daddy... I really can't.“

„Is that an appropriate punishment, kitten? Sammy? Fucking him on top of you and all you can do is … watch?“

Sam's chest was humming when he answered. „Yes, Master... ugh, it's appropriate.“

Dean sounded very pleased. „Yes I think so, too. Next time maybe, I will tie your feet to the bedhead also, what do you think? You're flexible enough and then I can freely choose which hole to fuck first...“

Jack got dizzy by the image of Dean fucking him on top of Sam and then switching in between.

„Open wide, kitten. Don't loosen your grip. I want to see your hungry hole clench...“

And Jack opened as wide as possible. Dean rubbed his cock over Jack's butt over and over, teasing his anus, gently pushing without thrusting inside. And Jack knew how much Dean liked begging. So he begged. „Please daddy, fill my hole, I can't wait any longer... I need you inside me.“

Another rough chuckle. „Hear that, baby? Jack is so hungry for my cock now. I wonder which he likes better. Yours... or … mine?“

All Jack could do now was whimper and push his ass in Dean's direction, desperately wanting him to finally, finally fuck him into oblivion.

„Both!“, he cried. „I want both!“

Dean clicked his tongue. „Tssssk, kitten. Not now. Not yet.“

And that's when Dean let some lube drip on Jack's hole. And then, Jack felt Dean's tip push in. Slowly first. Dean's strong fingers digging in Jack's sensitive flesh when he grabbed Jack's ass and pulled him closer.

It was painful, but not even close to something Jack wouldn't like. He liked how it felt, how tight he was around Dean's cock. It was delicious. Dean pushed Jack's hands away and ordered „Support yourself.“ His voice was a hiss now, words spoken through gritted teeth. „Support yourself and look into Sam's eyes. Let him see how much you enjoy getting impaled by my cock. Show him what a slut you are!“

And Jack did it. His forearms beside Sam's head he looked down on his partner, while sobbing and moaning in joy.

Jack could tell how much Sam liked watching him get fucked by Dean. „Good kitten...“, Dean growled while thrusting into Jack. „Daddy!“, Jack cried while he felt how Dean kept hitting deep and hard and... ohh his sweet spot. Jack knew he couldn't come like this, not yet, but he knew he'd learn also that. Between their grinding cocks Jack felt how he and Sam leaked a lot of pre-cum. Jack quivered and panted in pleasure, feeling Dean getting even bigger inside him and in his urge to please his daddy, Jack clenched his hole as hard as he could.

Dean's hand gently pulled Jack's hair and when his thrusts turned wild, harder and Dean started growling Jack's name all Jack could do was push against Deans hips, finding a rhythm and make Dean cum.

„Such a good... boy“, Dean panted and with a final hard, almost brutal thrust Dean came inside Jack. For a second he froze, Jack felt hot cum pumping inside his body and then Dean hit himself through the aftershocks and then let go of Jack's hair and his ass. Gently and still breathing heavily Dean rubbed Jack's back and placed a kiss between his shoulders.

„You took it so good, kitten. So very good.“

The praise let Jack smile and sigh in relief. Sam under him squirmed and gently rocked his hips against Jack's.

„And now that both of you got what they deserve, I will show some mercy. Kitten, untie Sammy. Keep my cum inside, don't waste it.“ Jack nodded, got up and clenched as hard as he could to keep Dean's juice inside while he untied Sam's restraints. Dean watched them, still a little shaky, sweat glistening on his forehead.

Sam rubbed his ankles slightly but stayed where he was, since Dean hadn't allowed him to get up. Jack didn't get up as well, he looked over to Dean who just closed his zipper again and then showed Jack what to do.

„Now you may sit on Sam's cock a little. You're open wide, you're lubed, it shouldn't hurt. Now, get it on. Show me how badly you still need it.“ Jack shivered at the words, and mumbled a tiny „thank you, daddy“ looking at Dean with big blue eyes.

And then Jack lowered himself on Sam's member and he moaned in ecstacy and satisfaction to finally feel Sam too.

„Hold him steady.“ Dean said to Sam as Dean himself got on the bed himself, sat behind Jack and held his shoulders. „Relax, lean against me, spread your legs, show Sam your beautiful body, will you, kitten?“

Jack gasped when let himself fall against Dean's broad chest and looked out for support. Dean placed Jack's hand on his thighs. The fabric of Dean's pants was rough but that was helping a lot. And then Jack started moving, Sam held his hips in place and Jack leaned onto Dean, let his head fall against his dom's shoulder.

„Good boy, you're doing so well. Show Sam how I taught you to ride a man like him, would you? Make daddy proud, kitten..“

Jack moaned and cried while bouncing on Sam's big and broad cock. He felt full. Greedy. Needy for an orgasm. As Dean would know what was going on in Jack's mind he wrapped a hand around Jack's cock and started jerking him. Now Jack felt how Sam moved inside him and Dean's firm hand around his cock. It was too much. He couldn't handle all of it. „I'm gonna cum, daddy..“ Jack pressed his head against Dean's chest. „May I cum, daddy,... please please please...“

Dean's hand stopped jerking for a second but then he whispered in Jack's ear „Of course, sweetheart. Cum when you need to... You're so good... I need to see you cum all over Sammy's belly. Can you do that? Shoot a big load for me. Yes?“

All Jack could do was nod. Sam's grip around Jack's slender hips tightened and he thrusted harder into Jack's now gaping hole... after being fucked by Dean and now by Sam there was no way for him to clench any tighter.

Jack felt the orgasm rushing towards him, how his insides started clenching and when Dean's hand and Sam's thrusts went frantic, Jack couldn't hold it anymore. He came all over Sam's belly and chest even reaching up to Sam's jaw. Sam also came a second afterwards, thrusting his and Dean's cum back into Jack. It was a mess of cries and moans, shivers and aftershocks. Jack leaned against Dean, eyes closed, panting.

Satisfied, full, happy. Sam's grip had left pink marks on Jack's hips but nothing too bad. No bruises. Never.

Dean held Jack close, mumbling sweet everythings in his ear. „Good boy... so good...“ he stroke over Jack's damp hair, brushed a tear away. It took Jack couple of minutes to calm down enough to respond. He laid his hand upon Dean's, looked up to his caretaker and smiled. It was a lazy, crooked smile. A sign how happy Jack was. And how he let himself go. „Thank you“, he mumbled. Leaving it to interpretation if he meant Sam or Dean or both. Dean thought, it was probably both.

„Come on, I'll help you get up.“ And Dean helped Jack to get off of Sam and then bedded the Nephil beside his brother. Dean got out of his pants and shirt and accompanied his partners. Sam was the big spoon, as usual, Jack in the middle and Dean the big one.

„I need to shower“, Jack mumbled against Sam's back. Dean let his fingers comb through Jack's hair. All three slightly chuckled.

„Later... let's cuddle for a sec“, Dean then suggested. „You good, sweetheart?“

Jack nodded. „Yes, Dee... i'm good. Better than good.“

Dean kissed Jack's shoulder. And after a moment Sam turned around and kissed Jack's forehead, then his lips. Jack leaned into Sam's affectonate kisses and caresses.

„Thank you“, Jack whispered on Sam's lips.

„Told you“, Sam replied and placed another kiss on Jack's face.

The triad let the minutes of bliss go by, just cuddles and kisses and praising each other. Jack felt endlessly loved by these two men and he couldn't think of better boyfriends to have. Ever.

And then, with a stiffled laugh, Dean whispered into the room. „By the way, I killed the monster before I found you two making out. In case you were wondering.“

Jack knew he had forgotten about something.

[lloydshoulddyehishair]

Lloyd getting out of control due to his Oni blood and the ninja being scared?

oH ITS ON (sorry for any typos btw it’s about 1:30 am but i really felt like writing)

warning for violence btw

-----

Lloyd normally wasn't the type to lose control over his emotions. He really wasn't. All the years of keeping his feelings to himself had made it easier to just not let others see what was going on inside him.

But this-

This was different.

Because if there was one thing Lloyd despised over everything it was being compared to his father. And when this wannabe-criminal told him that he was just as bad as his father and that they were both failures - Garmadon for losing against his son and Lloyd for just simply existing - something inside of him snapped.

Something dangerous.

The Green Ninja had never experienced anger like this before. It was like it completely consumed his body and mind and his vision was blurred.

"I am not like my father!", his voice came out louder than he had intended but under his blurred vision he could see the criminal taking a step back from the Ninja in shock at his sudden outburst and that made him almost crack a smile.

"Woah, Lloyd calm down.", he could hear Kai's worried voice behind him and the Blonde was about to scream because if there was one thing he was not going to do it was to calm down.

He had done so much for Ninjago. Saved it so many times, sacrificed basically everything for it and he was still being compared to his evil father? Was that his thanks for everything he went through for this shithole of a city?

'If they want evil they will get evil.'

Lloyd felt a sudden urge to just grab the man by his throat and break his neck right now and there. Ending his life in mere seconds. But what would be the fun in that? No, he had to make him suffer for even thinking that he was the same as his father because he was not. He was good!

He barely noticed how his legs carried him over to the slightly smaller and in tattoos covered male until he was standing right in front of him, grabbing him by the throat just staring into his terrified eyes. A smirk crept on his lips.

"Dude, chill out!" Cole called from behind him and Lloyd turned around to face him, not letting go of the criminal.

The face's his teammates made were priceless, he found it hard not to chuckle. Taking a few steps towards him but being held back my Nya, Jay spoke to him.

"What- what is happening to you?", his voice was full anxiety and panic and Lloyd snorted.

"Stop bothering me and let me do what I need to do right now.", he drew his attention back to the man he was still holding and threw him to the ground, wincing in pain because of the harsh contact with the floor, making Lloyd's smirk only grow wider in response.

"You- you're a bloody ps-psychopath!", he stuttered crawling slowly away from him but the Master of Energy was having none of that.

"Oh, already want to leave the party?", he pulled out his katana from the bag on his back and eyed it for a second. "I don't think so.", he said coldly crashing the sword down on the man's shin, piercing him to the ground.

He heard his friends calling out to him in shock and despair but their words were completely buried by the sound of the man's screams.

It sounded like music in his ears. And he was currently dancing to it, not wanting it to end.

He kneeled next to him and just watched him cry for a second. It made him feel happy in some sort of way.

"This is what you get for comparing me to Garmadon.", he growled, now taking out a dagger. "So don't. You. Dare. Do. It. Again.", he growled again, placing cuts on the lawbreakers body in between each word, his voice not sounding like his own anymore almost like it was demonic.

The man kept on screaming and begging for him to stop, pleading for the Ninja to help him but none of them were able to move, too shocked at the sight of their little brother behaving so- so vicious. It was terrifying.

This wasn't Lloyd, they knew this wasn't him, couldn't be him. Lloyd was a good person. Kind-hearted, loving, selfless, loyal and most definitely not an evil psychopath.

This was the boy they had raised together. Their little baby brother. But right now they couldn't recognize him- couldn't see him.

“But it's not like you could do anything like that again anyway.”, Lloyd mumbled to himself shrugging a bit while letting the dagger draw softly over the criminal's face without cutting it. “Since you won't be doing anything ever again. Because you wanna hear a secret?”, the Blonde's mood changed suddenly as he tilted his head a bit and looked at the man with almost completely innocent and curious eyes.

The man bit his lip in pain but managed to get a silent 'what?' out.

Lloyd grinned widely, showing his fangs and began to laugh. “Oh isn't it obvious?”, he leaned forward to his ears before whispering “I will kill you.” making chills go down the villains body.

He sat up straight again.

“Do you hear that?”, he asked him looking at his in blood covered dagger and then focusing right back on his face with wide and curious eyes.

“Hear wh-what?”

“The blood rushing out of your throat?”, before the man could choke out a word and before the Ninja could anything to stop their brother from making a huge mistake Lloyd had already rammed his dagger into his throat making blood splatter everywhere including his face.

Screams echoed through the entire alley.

And all of a sudden everything began to clear up.

His vision and his thoughts.

He felt reality hit him.

Looking down at his hands and then the man laying on the ground, dead, covered in blood and with the dagger Lloyd's father had given him on his 13thbirthday he felt like he was going to throw up.

Crawling away from the body he felt a wave of nausea hit him and couldn't help but release the insides of his stomach on the dirty concrete floor. His entire body began to shake as he started to cry both in terror and panic.

What had he done? This hadn't been him! He didn't feel like himself when he was doing all of... this. It was like someone or something had took control of his body but it was much different than when he had been possessed by Morro. Whatever it was he had killed a man. He had killed a man in a brutal way and he could remember the way he felt when he did it. He could remember the satisfaction he felt and- He threw up even more.

Turning around slowly - because he had remembered that he actually wasn't alone - he felt like his heart was being ripped apart.

His friends, his family, the only people whom he trusted with his life stood there just staring at him in fright. It took a few second for Lloyd to connect the dots and realized that they were afraid of him.

And he started to cry even more. He couldn't take it, losing the only people he thought would never leave him. And this time it would be his fault.

Hearing muffled voices in the back he did his best to ignore them. They were probably discussing leaving him right now, so Lloyd really did not want to listen to them.

He just wanted to drift away. He just wanted to die.

A light pressure on his shoulder made him look up and he was being greeted by the soft, yet terrified blue eyes of Jay.

“Let's take you home.”

Lloyd shook his head in panic. No- They couldn't do that! What if he would hurt them as well? What if he would hurt anyone else? They should put him into prison or just kill him now before he could do more damage and not take him home!

“No! You can't! I-I-”, his voice broke and he tried to move away from the redhead. “I'm a monster, Jay!”

“You're not. We- we know that it wasn't you. It was your Oni-Side.”, the way the Blue Ninja spoke to him felt very out of character. His voice was calm and collected while his own was frantic and loud. It was almost like they switched places.

“How would you know?”

“Your eyes were purple, Lloyd.”, the Blonde muttered a quiet 'Oh' in response.

Now that made sense. A lot of sense actually. But if Lloyd had just unlocked his Oni-Half but wasn't able to control it the last thing he wanted to do was go home and put the lives of his friends in danger. Besides he had killed a man. The police would never let him get away with murder even if he was Ninjago's greatest protector.

“Please, Lloyd. Come home with us, Wu will help us figure all this out.”, Jay held a hand in his direction.

“Bu-but the man-”, he stuttered looking over to the corpse, where Kai was already standing removing the dagger and katana with slight disgust on his face.

The Fire Ninja who had apparently been eavesdropping turned to his little brother looking him right in the eyes. “They won't find out.”

He walked towards him, kneeling down next to him. “The police I mean. They won't find out it was you. I- We won't let that happen.”, Lloyd looked at him with shocked and wide eyes leading for Kai to sigh. “What are Ninja friends for if they don't help you get away with murder once, I guess.”

“No- We can't-”

“Yes, we can.”, Cole spoke out this time and Lloyd turned his head to his direction. “That wasn't you, Lloyd. Whatever it was it's terrifying but it wasn't-”, he took a deep breath. “It wasn't you.”, he saw Nya and Zane nod in the corner of his eye.

He started to cry again.

“I don't deserve you. None of you.”

This time it was Jay's turn to sigh and the elder picked him off of the ground.

“I'm sorry to break it to you, Lloyd, but we are exactly what you deserve.”

[omniswords]

We Were Never Different [Sylvain Jose Gautier/Dorothea Arnault]

According to the books, it took Sylvain upwards of ten proposals before Dorothea agreed to marry him.

The eleventh time, she said yes.

(happy birthday @trebuchials ! and cheers to my first?? ever???? FE3H fic! signed, the fool who hasn’t beaten Azure Moon OR Crimson Flower yet. oops.)

It’s the end of the world, and at almost thirty years old, Dorothea knows it.

Maybe she should have known it six years ago, when it actually did feel like the end of the world. When she and her professor and a handful of her old classmates seemed to stare Death itself out of existence. Twice. When she trekked through parts of the Empire and the Kingdom that she had only ever heard long-gone suitors try and fail to wax poetic about. When she… when Edelgard…

Maybe that was the closest to the end of the world. That, and the streets of Enbarr.

But as far as she’s concerned, childhoods are never as pretty as people try to describe, and all her life she has been nothing if not resilient. The Mittelfrank Opera Company would have plenty to say about that, and so would Garreg Mach Monastery. And so would her professor, if they could see her now from wherever they are.

And so would Sylvain.

Sylvain, who has made it a point, in these last six years, to offer her marriage ten times.

Sylvain, who knocked on her door tonight for what she presumed is the eleventh. Who’s sitting across from her at a dinner table in Gautier territory, and who opens his mouth to confirm it.

She’ll have to admit, he’s developed a sense of decorum and tact over the years. He’s lost the wiggle in his eyebrows in favor of a gallant kiss to the back of her hand. He doesn’t lean in her doorway, whenever he comes to her home, as though he intends to darken it with some despicable arrogance. No, there’s something noticeably different about him, something that sets him apart from other nobles—and perhaps from who he was when he tried chasing her skirt eleven years ago. There’s a sparkle in his eye that he makes no effort to hide. A softness in the cadence of his voice, the sort that betrays just how deeply they know each other. What parts of each other’s hearts they’ve touched, and cradled, and taken with then whenever they parted ways in the halls of the monastery and in Faerghus terrain.

Things like that don’t just happen to you when you inherit the title of Margrave Gautier.

“Dorothea.” By Seiros, even the way he says her name and keeps her gaze in between spoonfuls of peach sorbet holds a different kind of weight. “I meant what I said before, about… everything. I’m confident you know that much.”

“I know.” They may be in the corner of a local tavern, a place Sylvain claimed as some old stomping grounds, but she’s allowed to hold onto some of her airs. He told her once that it was one of the things he liked about her. He might have said, years ago, that her stone-cold attitude and the way she held him at arm’s length only spurred the thrill of the chase; nowadays, when he rides beside her on horseback or dares to brush her hand on a leisurely walk, something in the way he carries himself tells her she’s commanded his full respect by virtue of existing. “So did I.”

“I don’t disbelieve you,” he says; he must be leaning back in his seat because elbows on the table are unbecoming, but he inclines his head like he means to study her. “But your answer has been the same every time. And you haven’t told me no. All you’ve said is, ‘Not yet.’ So when? When will you say yes?”

She’ll credit him on two counts: that his tone his measured and far from demanding, and that his words are accurate. She never has said no to his proposals. Perhaps she’s had to stave off an onslaught of girlish butterflies, or memories of a hushed, heartfelt conversation in Garreg Mach’s reception hall. But her answer has hardly been more than a faint smile, Not yet, Sylvain, and a closed door.

“Sylvain,” she says almost in the way that she might issue a challenge; an elbow on the table means little to her when her chin rests so delicately against her knuckles. “Why do you think I haven’t agreed to marry you yet?”

He pauses. And then he chuckles. “That’s a loaded question with a lot of answers, coming from you,” he admits. “Maybe you’ve just been waiting to see if I’ve got all the flirting out of my system. I suppose any woman who knew my… track record… would wait for that.”

To her surprise, Dorothea can’t think of any other woman besides herself these days. She’s the only one he’s so much as mentioned in the time they’ve spent together—not counting Ingrid, who’s been steadfastly overseeing Galatea territory on her own, or Annette, who according to him now happily goes by “the Duchess of Fraldarius.” But she is the only one he’s invited to dinner. Written to regularly. Secured land for in Gautier territory, in her name, and given her time and space to tend. All without need for thanks. All without asking for repayment besides a smile and a reply and perhaps, if he’s in good spirits, a song.

That’s the pleasant thing about Sylvain. He’s almost always in good spirits.

“That may be true,” she concedes as they leave their meal behind and he helps her into her cape, “but I have other reasons.”

“And you’re going to make me guess them all, huh?”

“No,” Dorothea says, and when he takes her by the hand and leads her into the cold, she doesn’t quite let go of him. “I trust you enough to tell you.”

It’s a long walk back to her home, where Sylvain’s horse is graciously being fed and watered, but neither of them minds the trip. In fact, she’d like to think they both quietly relish it, especially in the dark, away from the prying eyes of nobility. “So,” he says. “Your reasons?”

Dorothea draws her hood, and even afterwards her hand still looks for his. It feels so distant, gloved all the time. Perhaps once they reach her house he’ll allow her just a few forbidden seconds to peel them away, to feel out the lines in his palms and the calluses from all that lance work. “Well,” she begins with a deep breath and a vague sweep of her arm. “I think the first reason is obvious. You’ve had to help repair so much in the Kingdom, haven’t you? Not to mention all the responsibilities of being a margrave.”

“I can’t tell if you’re saying it like that because you’re respecting me or because you’re mocking me,” he shoots back, like the hard-to-get quips of old times, but the laugh in his voice, weak though it is, makes itself known well enough. “It’s been years since I’ve inherited that title. It’s not exactly new, and neither are the responsibilities of being a noble. No matter how much of a buffer we’re supposed to be for the north.” He shrugs. “You learn a lot in five years. And then six more.”

Whatever he’s learned, it sounds as though he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. “You’ve done good things in those years,” she murmurs. “Maybe I wanted you to see that I see those good things, instead of… what you’ve always thought women saw in you.”

“You can say it,” Sylvain mumbles. “Not talking about my Crest doesn’t make it not exist anymore.”

“Talking about it gives it weight. Relevance.” Dorothea spares him a glance, gestures between them with her free hand. “Whatever this is between us has nothing to do with it, or nobility, or lofty… whatever you want to call it. It never has. We are who we are—together—because of what we’ve done together. What we’ve seen. Sylvain, I’ve told you things, written things, that I never thought I would tell anyone, and your Crest wasn’t even on the list of things I was thinking about when I confessed them.”

“So what was?”

She stops, muscles tense, heart lodged in her throat. All the old symptoms of stage fright with none of the excitement. “How… scared I was. That once you heard them, or read them, you’d… have nothing to do with me anymore.”

In the silence, broken only by their footsteps, Sylvain squeezes her hand. Neither of them has to say, like everyone else. Neither of them has to give any more words to ghosts left over, or walls that haven’t quite crumbled.

“Maybe I was testing you, after all” she admits; the only evidence of her words are the puff of air in the cold. “How long you’d bother waiting for me. If you really did still think there was more to me than my looks or my voice, or…” She shakes her head, locks of hair tickling her cheeks under her hood. “If, at the end of the world, if… you would still want someone like me around. Almost-grandma and all.”

Dorothea’s home is in sight just uphill—the house the men of Gautier built, the stable that shelters Sylvain’s horse—and quite frankly, she can’t tell if it’s relief or regret settling stone-heavy in the pit of her heart. She’s yanked back before she can take a step further, and when she turns, Sylvain is simply standing there, watching her, making her stomach twist all over again. “Do you want to know?” he says quietly. He’s still holding onto her. “What it is I don’t want?”

She nods, but not after a pause heavy with pros and cons. “Yeah. If you trust me enough to tell me.”

Sylvain tugs her close, firm but not forceful, so that she could nearly swallow his words. So that he could feel all almost-thirty years of her. “I don’t want to wait anymore,” he confesses, his voice a low rumble. “I don’t want to not take care of you anymore.”

It takes a while for her next words to come out. “Sylvain,” she murmurs, half-shivering. “I think all you’ve ever done is take care of me.”

He squeezes her wrists, and he reaches for her face, and he slants his mouth against hers like he doesn’t want to wait for that anymore, either. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed, for whatever impropriety that holds. They’ve stolen plenty in the monastery, when she teased him for his skilled tongue and eager hands and other body parts rising to the occasion, however ready or not she was to indulge them. And however many times the world has almost ended for them both, he’s kissed her just before then, too, as though she was the last thing he ever wanted to remember about his life before he left it behind. Pressure, urgency—there is none of that here. There’s only intimacy, the last dregs of patience, and, if she leans enough into his touch, a promise.

“Dorothea—Arnault—” He’s never panted her name against her jaw before, never pressed his forehead to hers before. She thinks she could get used to both. “Will you grow old with me?”

Dorothea thinks, somewhere between the eleventh question and the first yes and slipping on the ring Sylvain’s been carrying on him for half a decade, that impropriety means next to nothing when she could take him inside and get used to more of him all over again.

[deerheadlights]

Chapter 9... extra long and action packed!

Alkyone felt another presence in the room just before she opened her eyes. Lethos’s wife, Phanessa, was standing over her hands fluttering. “My little dove,” she cooed, “I am so sorry about your rough night, how is your head? I told Lethos that Hyrcanian wine is too strong but he only wanted the best you know!”

“Oh it was very good,” Alkyone said, her throat felt rusty. “I am so embarrassed about how I behaved, I must send my apologies to Alketas.”

“Oh, don’t spare a thought, he shouldn’t have launched into politics like that.” Phanessa leaned on the bed and stroked Alkyone’s hair back from her forehead with a wet cloth. She closed her eyes again. It just felt so motherly. Her own mother had wasted away from some illness, she had spent a lot of time in temples with her praying. They thought her grandmother had offended the gods in some way, and that was why her mother’s stomach was continually paining her. She had died about 3 years before Charonea. Alkyone thought it was a blessing that she didn’t have to go through the shame of the past few years, just the move to Athens would have been excruciating for her.

“Do you think you feel well enough to do a little weaving, or would you rather stay in bed?”

The room seemed to stink of vomit to Alkyone, and she felt trapped in it.

“It’s been too long since I had the company of other girls to weave.” she agreed.

 As she sat down in the air weaving room, she suddenly remembered another reason, besides the fact she had been on the run, that she had not spoken to many other girls. Back in Athens she had been viewed with a bit of mingled pity and contempt, and after that in Thebes just open suspicion. From their wide eyed looks these girls seemed like more of the same. Alkyone pulled open the shed of the weave and slipped her shuttle through. “Are you all excited for the feast of [bluh blah] when the moon gets full?” [Bluh blah]? It was hard to keep time when every place had different calendar names. The best she could reckon, they were in the month that in Thebes would be called [s;afnjkfd], but who knows what they called it here on the southern islands. “I’m excited for the horse race! Father said we are sure to win this year!” a freckled girl said excitedly. “I like the human races more, personally,” chuckled another. “Nothing is better than the sacrifices at twilight, with fireflies flickering about, I truly feel the god’s presence then.” a thin, pious girl responded. Alkyone felt an air of expectation upon her, “At festivals at home, I liked the music contests best.” “That’s great! We have the best chithra players here!” the freckled girl said. Soon, chattering came much easier, though she accidentally did some doubles in her weaving. They were discussing what harvest food would taste best at the feast when a slave came quietly through the door. He whispered something in his mistress’s ear.

“Oh, Artemis’s girdle. What is the point of slaves if you have to do everything yourself. Please excuse me girls, I must take care of something.” Phanessa and the woman swept out of the room.

“Good, now I can talk about what I’m really looking forward to seeing at the festival,” remarked one ruddy girl, “The wrestling matches!” Alkyone found herself giggling along. “Do you think that man who came last year with Nothon will be there? They said he was coming back with him but he never did.”

“Do you mean Tydeus? He was here last year.”

“Oh, is he your husband?” asked the freckled woman.

“No, he was my father’s friends! He’s old enough to be my father.”

“My husband’s my father’s age.” she said lightly, “I guess you got a younger one then?”

“No,” Alkyone squirmed a bit, “I never got married, my intended died and I’ve been… travelling ever since.” The room was awash in “awww”s and “oh poor dears”s

“Well, Lethos knows all the bachelors of means on the islands and in Ionia, he can set you up!”

Alkyone didn’t like the oppressive feel of pity, she tried to lighten the mood. “Well, if you have a wandering eye for Tydeus, he told me he would be back before the moon turns full, so he should be there!”

By the end of the afternoon she had a good length done for all the conversation she’d had, the length from fingertip to shoulder. It wouldn’t be so bad, to marry a wealthy man on the islands, and weave with her friends. It could almost be home. She knew she wasn’t going to follow Tydeus into Asia to chase Alexander, after all.

 Alkyone had retired for the night, but a pervasive sense of dread kept her awake. She had had sleepless nights sometimes for a long while. The anxiety from waiting for Charonea, for the battle of Thebes and for Issus had burrowed into her soul, so even when there was nothing to fear she would still lie awake. Well there is something to fear, what if something’s gone wrong in Athens? All this lying in bed had tickled her bladder.

“Lydia, fetch the bedpan.” She didn’t feel like walking down the stairs to the [restroom]. Nothing.

“Lydia!” where was the slave when you needed her? All day she was practically hovering on top of her, useless. Well, perhaps after getting up she would find getting to sleep easier.

She admired the painting of the Argonauts on the wall of the stairs as she made her way down, when suddenly she heard a muted conversation.

“...Is there a reason you can’t use the poppy all the time? It makes me nervous, that she’s just walking around. We showed Alketas she’s alive, now who cares if she’s sleeping all day.” Wasn’t that Nothon’s voice?

“Too much poppy oil can kill, and too little will addle her once it stops. Besides, today we learned that Tydeus is returning sooner than expected.” A pause. Lethos? “I wouldn’t call walking from the bedroom to the weaving quarters ‘walking about unimpeded.’ Tydeus is the one I’m worried about.”

“He’ll come. Even if he learned that we’re throwing in with King Alexander, he wouldn’t leave her. We’ll have the full package prepared for Alexander, don’t worry.”

There was a rustle nearby. Alkyone turned slowly, and walked back up the stairs, limbs stiff as Hephaestus’s automatons. Her mind was being pulled in so many directions, it felt more like she had bees buzzing in her skull than thoughts. She laid back on her bed, bladder quite forgotten.

Oh gods, it was that awful feeling again, just like when she learnt of every lost battle. It climbed through her toes, gave her shaky thighs, and when it filled her belly it turned truly foul. She laid there with her heart tattooing and skin crawling like a thousand ants. She was utterly trapped here! The sword of Damocles was starting its descent! They must have seen that Alexander was going to control the west of Persia and decided to strike a deal. So much for the sons of Democracy. What can you expect from an Athenian that doesn’t even live in Athens? That thing she’d told the freckled girl, they knew! The slave girl, she was probably reporting right now to Phanessa everything else she had breathed that day. I’m nothing but a gnat in a spider web! Was there no one else she could trust? Her thoughts ran round and round like horses at a stadium. She realized there was another person in the house of Lethos that wanted out as much as she did. The Persian.

 ----

 It seems whatever Alkyone had said had promoted Marduniya from a floor scrubbing slave to a dining room slave. Unfortunately, that also meant he had been given more “suitable” attire. The thin white chiton without any trousers made him feel so… exposed. You had to watch the way you walked up and down the stairs or the breeze would make it flip right up. And his legs felt strange just rubbing against each other all the time. At least he didn’t have to go around naked like some of the other slaves and even the dinner guests. These Greeks are such barbarians.

 One of the guests made a motion with his cup, so Marduniya went to refill it. He had done such things as a junior officer, being a cupbearer was nothing shameful to him. The man’s blue eyes narrowed as he smirked, he pointed at Marduniya and said something that made his compatriots laugh and cheer. He recognized the words “Persian” and “slave.” So soon everyone will have Persian slaves after Alexander beats us, is that right? Whatever happened at Issus, the Great King would regroup. A smaller empire might be better in the long-run anyway, Egypt was always rebelling, and as amazing as the grain crop was, maybe they just weren’t worth the trouble. Besides, weren’t these people supposed to be Tydeus’s friends? He said he wanted Alexander gone. Maybe I should try listening a bit harder. But try as he might he couldn’t get anything else about them. He did hear a lot about [festival]. And he caught the word for horse, and saw the unmistakable sign of bets being placed. So there’s to be horse races? They couldn’t be very exciting compared to Persian horse races. Greek horses were smaller and broader, the best long-legged enduring race horses were born on the plains north of Nisea. He was sure the pride-and-joys of these men would have stood no chance against his old storm gray, or even that dun Tydeus had taken from the battlefield. He was so lost in thought, the fat man seated on one of the klines was practically shaking his cup about before he noticed it.

 The rest of the evening was rather boring. It must be more exciting to be a gossip-selling servant when you know the language. Afterwards, he had to clean the amphora and cups and set them back, which cost more hours of night. By the time he made his way towards the cloisters his eyes had begun to dry and droop. He was going past the lavaratories when he heard his name whispered. It gave him a fright, but he saw a finger poke through a little hole in the wall. It came back out. “Marduniya! We have to go! We-” It was Alkyone! But her words were so shaky and hurried he had no idea what she was saying. “Sorry...what?”

 “These people… are Alexander’s people!” Yeah, I was starting to suspect… Marduniya tried in mixed Greek and Persian, “I heard at dinner, something like that… but mostly [festival] and horse races.” He had used the Greek word for horse but Persian for races. She was quiet, then said something in Greek away from him. Probably telling the slave with her she needs some more time. “Yes. Races. You could do races, yes?” I could ride better than anyone on this island, that I am sure of, he thought, but he just said, “Yes.”

“I think I have an idea.”

----

“I’m sorry about Iphicrates. I would have gone after him, but in the aftermath of the battle… I just had other concerns.” Tydeus was telling Euphenes.

“He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.”

It was the morning after the symposium. They were lounging around Euphenes’s inner courtyard.

“I know it’s not as grand as the ones you have closer to Asia,” He said to Glaukos, “Here in Athens, if anyone suspects you’ve got two silver owls to rub together they want to you to start funding plays or maintaining naval crews. So we must be a bit more staid.”

Glaukos had never seen such a collection of plants in his life, white long-necked moon flowers, olive boughs, and plenty of flowers he couldn’t name. Surely this isn’t any better than the gardens of Babylon. “At least we can waste on fishcakes and hetairas. I noticed you took a liking to Antiope?”

Tydeus rolled his eyes, “Would you stop teasing the lad? I wanted to speak with you about the… atmosphere here. Do you think it’s safe?”

“Come with me to the agora and you’ll see for yourselves. Maybe even see Antiope again too?”

She was there, at a flower seller’s stall, haggling over the last myrtle of the season. Euphenes swooped in and paid the sum before she got the seller too low. Who pays for flowers? Glaukos thought. Trade a small fry or some beans sure, but actual coin money?

“Walk with us, Antiope, we are considering the facets of Athenian society and need another perspective.”

“Oh my, you might want to pick up a sophist in the agora, not little old me!”

Glaukos had noticed plenty of older men wearing old fashioned himation cloaks close to their bodies, giving speeches to little gaggles of followers at the foot of some columns.

“Yes, shall we listen to Demosthenes decry the ‘Common Peace of Macedon’ as another name for Tyranny, or a student of Phokion preach keeping our vows, no matter how degrading they are? That’s the irony, someone should write a play, that the Athenians argue with one another while armed Macedonians patrol the streets.” Euphenes voice was raised and he drew some looks.

Compared to the crowded streets Glaukos had encountered last night, the agora was even worse. How can people live like this? he wondered after the fourth person stepped on his foot.

He was relieved when they got to a more secluded alcove by the temple district. The white marble buildings and their gold caps gleamed in the sun, giving Glaukos a twinge of pious feeling. I should go to the temple of Poseidon to pray for everyone back home. As he turned to ask Tydeus, some men blocked the entrance to the alcove. He had seen them before in the crowd from the corner of his eye. They had rough dark cloaks with nothing underneath and greasy old sandals, basically what he had worn his entire life.

“So Euphenes the Alcomenid finally decides to go out and rub shoulders with the common people.” one of them sneered.

“Ah, Kallikles, my favorite Macedonian-bought dog! You’ve got me cornered, now maybe they’ll give you two obols a month instead of one!” Even Glaukos knew that was an insultingly low price. Antiope moved back until she was pressed against the wall, while Tydeus went to the front, his hand inside his chiton.

“You’re a fool if you think you can cry out that sort of talk in public. At least be smart enough to call the Common Peace oppressive, instead of naming the Macedonians.”

“What are you going to do? Nail me up to serve as an example?”

“Great idea!” snarled one of the men, reaching for a side arm.

Tydeus drew a short sword with a glittering gold hilt that drew all the cut-throat’s eyes, then threw a knife to Glaukos.

“You said you wanted to learn to fight? Well here you are!”

He barely caught it without cutting himself. The street brawls he’d been in at home suddenly seemed a lot more like adolescent tussles than preparations for something like this. Well, no use being a coward now.

The closest thug brandished his own knife at him, and Glaukos anxiously watched the sharp tip wave about. When he lifted it high, Glaukos leaned in and gave him a cut on the meat of his upper arm before skipping back. He yelped and stepped back, cradling his wounded limb, and Glaukos ran towards Tydeus. Blinded by the promise of loot, the three of the remaining men were engaging him, while Euphenes went sword to sword with another. Glaukos stabbed one of the distracted goons in the shoulder, earning him a howl. Tydeus blocked one blow with the beautiful blade, then turned it to cut deep into the man’s fingers on his sword’s hilt. Euphenes had beaten off his man, and suddenly it was three against Kallikles.

“Looks like my hired muscle is better than yours.” Euphenes gave a wolf’s smile.

Kallikles looked around but Glaukos stepped to block his path, then Euphenes’s blade bit the so-called dog in the chest. Glaukos jumped back from the sudden spray of blood. He hadn’t expected him to kill him, just give him a beating and send him running like the other men!

“I cannot express to you how good it feels to have removed that thorn from my side!”

Tydeus was gripping his sword and glaring at Euphenes, “So you took us out here and baited them so we could play your hired killers, is that it?”

“I knew you could handle it my friend, besides, getting rid of this man aligns with your own goals.”

Glaukos found his voice, “You could have gotten Antiope hurt!” He looked around for her but she was nowhere to be found.

“Ah, my naive little friend! She was their spotter, I brought her with us on purpose.”

He turned to Tydeus, “So you see, Athens is unsafe for everyone now a days, let alone someone in Alkyone’s delicate position. But you did me a favor and I will do one for you. Need any resources? Name it.”

“A fast boat would be nice, since we’re going to have to avoid a murder trial.”

 The trireme was outfitted with three decks of professional rowers, but it’s battering ram had been removed for speedier travel. And it had plenty of room for the horse that had sped them back to the Piraeus.

“I can’t believe he just killed his rival like that. I thought Athenian politicians were supposed to get by on their votes?” Glaukos was cleaning and sharpening two swords and knife. The knife was fine, but the swords both had knicks were they had hit bones. Euphenes had donated a whole panoply for each of them, as well as the sword he had used that afternoon, in a addition to the boat.

Tydeus just made a derisive noise. He had forgotten how tiring ordering a crew around was.

“Where did you get a blade like this?”

“From that Persian, Marduniya’s, belt. I’m better with a kopis anyway, for me an akinakes is just a big knife. You can have it.” The short akinakes had two sharp edges, and a golden hilt, with griffins forming the cross guard and a horse with a lapis lazuli mane and tail as a grip. Euphene’s sword was more utilitarian, a single edged kopis blade with a medusa inscribed on the hilt. It’s only been 2 days, and I have a sword, shield and armor! Just that was enough to make Glaukos’ head spin, let alone the betrayal and murder of the past day.

They looked up at the moon through the slat in the ceiling. It was close, but not full yet. “At this rate, we’ll be back before the festival they hold on Rhodes. So maybe we finally won’t be in a hurry every time we leave.”

 ----

 Alkyone rose early, and despite her body slaves consternated protests, walked right into Lethos’s study.

“Is something the matter?” He was caught with his stylus in the air, he had been inscribing on a wax tablet.

“I’m sorry to barge in, I just had a thought about how to repay you after you’ve been so kind to me.”

“Oh, my dear, that isn’t necessary!” It sure isn’t, you sniveling traitor.

“I heard yesterday that you had horses in the races at the festival tomorrow. Instead of tiring out your jockey in multiple heats, maybe you could use my Persian! I’m sure he’s a good rider, all noble Persians are.”

She could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He’ll say yes, he’s a slave to money, anything that can help him win is a sure bet.

“What a great idea, Alkyone! You will make someone a practical wife someday,” he smiled.

Alkyone clamped a smile onto her own face. How can he act like that when he knows full well he’ll be handing me off to die in a few days?

She demurely backed out of the room and went back upstairs to accompany Phanessa to breakfast.

 Now was the worst part of the plan, spending the day agonizing about the variables. The fluffy fish with spicy sauce and poached egg with honey would have tasted amazing if her throat and stomach hadn’t clenched with every swallow. Back in the weaving room, she barely contributed to the excited conversation about the festival the next day. Beating the weft to align each thread helped her gather her thoughts. She would get food from the kitchens late at night, this cloth she was finishing would be her cloak… what was she thinking her plan was crazy, it would never work! No! She would do this and escape, or she was dead, dead, dead! Or worse than dead, a little thought whispered, what if he marries you to some horrible Macedonian who could have killed your father and rounded up your old friends to sell as slaves? She felt a fresh stab of fear right above her kidneys. That won’t happen.

 -----

The horse under Marduniya whinnied, showing the inside of his upper lip at the mares penned nearby. He shook his head, who races with a stallion? True, they could be faster and stronger, but they were heavier and could also decide they wanted to mate with the mare in last place mid-race. The prudent man always chooses a gelding, his father had often spoken the old saying, meaning a practical person picks a compromise. But the plan Alkyone had whispered to him through the hole in the latrine wasn’t practical, and didn’t involve winning. This rearing stallion will be perfect.

 Another slave was working the horses, some tribesman from the banks of the Euxine sea. He was not quite a Scythian, but he knew his way around horses too, and some clumsy Persian. “Crap horses, but better than the rest of the island.” he said to Marduniya. Finally, another one around here that can talk. “So we’ll win no problem, huh? Do we get freed if we win?” Marduniya was sure the slave jockeys had to have an incentive. At home any nobleman worth his salt would have his own sons race for family glory, but not here. Any mirth on the other slave’s face died. “There is only winning. Don’t think about losing.” Killing a slave for losing a race would be a ridiculous waste of resources, but for a man as rich as this Lethos, who knew? Or maybe he tortures them? He had seen some scars on the Thracians and Illyrians, but they were all on the front like sword cuts from a battle, not knotted back scars like someone scourged. He prefered not to know. “The problem is, it’s not all about going fast. Other riders will try to knock you off.” Marduniya had fallen from his horse after his first battle, but not during. That had been part of his training from childhood, to grip the horse and hold on no matter how much you or it twisted in exertion. “I was a lancer in the the cavalry of the Great King! You think I’ll be knocked off my mount by the likes of you?” The other man rolled his eyes, then suddenly straightened and cast them down. The foreman was back to yell at them. It’s only been 2 days, I haven’t magically learned Greek. Marduniya listened to his staccato bleating impatiently, until the man drew a finger over his throat and pantomimed tossing a body. Finally he left.

“So I think I got it, but what was that all about.”

“The usual. You Oriental women better win or we’ll geld you and throw you in the ocean with stones ties to your feet.” he paused. “Only one of us will win… have a good death, Persian.” he squeezed his mount with his knees and rode away. So that’s how it is…

 ----

 Tydeus and Glaukos disembarked onto Rhodes during the first hour of gray dawn. The savory smell of the dawn festival sacrifices was blowing down into the harbor.

“Do we get to have a little fun, boss?” one of the sailors called through the oar hole.

“This is an island in contested territory, where the enemy navy could dock at anytime. What do you think, oarsmen?” the man wilted a bit.

“You may disembark to get a hot meal, but afterwards, man the ship. That’s an order!”

There was some grumbling from the ship as they left the docks.

Glaukos turned to Tydeus. “Do you really mean that, sir? That enemies could appear at any time?”

“They could, but mostly sailors trying to flout my orders pisses me--” he stopped in his tracks, gazing off to another ship passengers waiting on a gangplank.

“Dionysodorus! Dionyso, is that you?” A tall, muscled man turned around.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Tydeus, son of Medon!” the man, Dionysodorus, had a tired smile.

Tydeus jogged up and squeezed his hand in greeting. “How was the embassy to the Great King? How did you escape capture, I heard they got Iphicrates--”

“Alexander got me too.”

“Then what happened, how did you escape?”

“Well, let me start with the whole story. King Darius was very amenable to financing our cause, we had some documents sealed by him, but now that Alexander’s captured part of his treasury and killed his way through his nobles and mercenaries, that’s probably null and void. He even got his golden chariot and tent with his family, you know.” he sighed.

“We were in one of the tents he captured, but it happened so fast we didn’t realize what had happened, or we would have taken our own lives. But they brought me, Thessaliscus, Euthycles the Spartan and Iphicrates to the boy king. And right away, he said he pardoned me and Thessaliscus, because he understood that as exiles from a destroyed city we were doing whatever we could to get justice, and because he respected my win at the Olympic games. Euthycles he has in custody, he kept Iphicrates but let’s him move about freely--”

 Glaukos had been so focused on the man’s story he hadn’t seen Tydeus expression until Dionysodorus had wrinkled his brow in concern. His face had turned the purple of a hanging man, his mouth pressed in a white line.

 “You were in his presence, and then you left when you were dismissed like a good boy? You should have cut his throat for what he’d done to Thebes!”

“With what?! You think they didn’t take our weapons?”

“You should have put out his eyes with your thumbs! Strangled him!”

“You can’t be serious! First of all, I would have been dead before I touched him, and secondly, to kill someone who granted you freedom after expecting death is--”

“I used to think that my fellow Olympians had steel in their souls, but now I see you’re just a coward, happy to run home with your life! I would have died just to put a scratch on that bastard!”

The other passengers of the boat and some people from the dock were starting to gawk at the exchange. The sun had risen above the horizon, casting a glow that made both men’s faces look even more red.

Tydeus turned and started walking away. Glaukos stood rooted to the spot. “His grief has been transmuted to madness.” Dionysodorus said, mostly to himself, before turning to Glaukos. “You should stay away from him, young man, if you know what’s good for you. People like that tear down many others on their own path to Hades”

If I got in a boat now, I could be home in time for dinner, the thought came unbidden to his mind. And then at this time tomorrow you’d be getting a lecture that you weren’t hauling the bream right. He ran off to catch up to Tydeus before he called for him.

----

 Tydeus said he would be here by now, Alkyone thought as she toyed with the fig on her plate. The household of Lethos was having an early breakfast, so they could hurry to witness the morning sacrifice that would kick off the day of celebrations.

“I don’t like to fill my stomach too much in the morning either,” Phanessa confided from her left side. “Here, this beverage will wake you up and keep you full until we can eat under the tent at the events, I swear by it.” She handed her a delicate ceramic cup. You swear by it, but you’re not drinking it now, Alkyone observed. She thought back to her first experience drinking in the house. They wouldn’t want me to come to the festival, why take the risk I could get lost in the crowd? A little poppy, I feel too sick to come, and they’re saved the anxiety. Unfortunately for them, she had her own plan, and it required her attendance. As a slave passed behind her, Alkyone pretended to be bumped. “Oh!” The cup and it’s dubious contents were smashed onto the ground.

“Oh no, how clumsy of me! Let me clean it, it’s the least I can do!” Alkyone reached down and palmed the largest shard.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Phanessa directed the passing slave, “clean it!” Did I detect some irritation? “We’ll make you up a new one right away.”

“No I’m fine, really, and we’re going to be late!”

 Alkyone smoothed her veil unconsciously as she swayed in the palanquin with Phanessa. She had chosen a periwinkle color that would probably fade after the day in the sun, but seemed appropriate for a festival of the sea. “Thank you again for bringing me along,” Alkyone gave a saccharine smile. Phanessa responded with a tight one. “Of course, what kind of person would I be tantalizing you with talk while weaving then barring you from coming?” Oh, just the terrible person you are.

 The palanquin stopped at the the edge of the residential district. “We have to walk along the sacred way ourselves, it’s traditional.”

They joined Lethos, Nothon, and that Alketas from her first day there. Their little group was firmly ensconced in a circle of slaves from the manor. Marduniya wasn’t there. He’s probably helping transport horses to the stadium. She hadn’t been able to contact him last night, so she wasn’t even absolutely sure that Lethos had taken her advice to use him as a jockey, despite his positive reaction. “I’m so happy to see you still haven’t left Rhodes, sir.” she said, sidling up to Alketas. “Now I can properly apologize to you.”

“Apologize for what,” he said lightly, “it is already forgotten.” Well, hopefully you won’t be forgetting today for a long time. Now that her plan was rolling into action, she still felt the anxiety of before, but now it was a buoying force, making her giddy. This must be how the soldiers feel before a charge, or else they’d never willingly run towards danger. She turned to Phanessa on her other side, “Do you have a spare stick of kohl? It’s been so long that I’ve seen a proper sacrifice done the Hellene way, I fear I will become too emotional… I don’t want to spend the rest of the day looking like a harpy with old kohl trails around my eyes.” Phanessa got a spare from her body slave and presented it without comment. Her smile that used to seem motherly now looked condescending. Alkyone tucked the stick into the small pocket of her long Ionian chiton with the ceramic shard.

 It hadn’t all been a ploy. As the priest raised a knife over his head, reciting the sacred words, and the white bull lowed and tossed his garlanded head, Alkyone’s eyes filled with tears from recalling home.  Maybe one day Thebes will be rebuilt, and we’ll have sacrifices at the temple of the Amphion again… The smell of blood hitting the altar from the bull’s throat jerked her back to attention, and the smoke of the burnt sacrifice followed them back to the city as they walked towards the stadium.

 “Do you know what order the events are?”

“First music contests, then wrestling,  long jumps, javelin toss, foot races, and finally horse races.”

You’d think a festival celebrating the lord of the sea and horses would have horse racing first, Alkyone thought impatiently. But then again everyone loved a big finale, and moving dead horses out of the way was best left for last, instead of delaying the next event.

 At the stadium, they found their viewing tent that had already been set up by slaves. The yellow and gray of the sails of Lethos’s ships was complemented by a little purple fringe. Gaudy. From the inner pavilion they were able to enjoy the starting fanfare of the games in shade.

 The music festivals only heightened her anxiety. Instead of some soothing lyre playing, it was a contest of Aulos flutes. Some armies marched to the tune of the reedy two-tone flute, which put her in mind of battles past and future. Then, some contestants tried some more oriental approaches to music, with singing and playing different notes, that put her in mind of some dionysian frenzy. When they crowned the winner, a more conservative contestant, with the laurel, she was relieved.

 Wrestling was next. As an unmarried woman, Alkyone knew she was allowed to watch the nude men compete, but Phanessa did not retire. It seemed like the Aegean Islands didn’t have the same rules as the mainland Olympic games. The first contest involved two men of extreme varying sizes. Alas, no matter how many clever holds the smaller man strove with, his boulder-like opponent defeated him. Let’s hope that’s not prophetic. She squirmed a bit on her seat, “Alas, maybe I can fit a trip to the latrine before the next bout?”

 If Alkyone had not already known their plan, she would have wondered at the size of her entourage as she made her was to the latrine tents. All major events needed additional room for calls of nature, since so many people came in from the surrounding farmland. The small tents were more private than the more permanent communal bathrooms, which was just what she needed. She could see the shadows of the 8 slaves that were accompanying her through the tent’s fabrics, but she knew no one could see within. She took out the kohl stick and shard and wrote an ostakon message.

 ----

 The exchange with Dionysodorus left a bitter taste in Tydeus’s mouth. He supposed the man’s family had to be safely tucked away in Athens, no man whose family was sold into slavery could have possible just walked away from the person who was responsible. He heard Glaukos’s running strides to catch up with him but didn’t turn his head. “Sir, perhaps if Alexander forgave that man, he could forgive--” Tydeus rounded on him but before he could speak,

“I know, you would never bend your knee to him, but maybe Alkyone wouldn’t have to worry anymore. If he didn’t punish a man plotting with his enemy, would he really hurt a girl just because of her parents?”

“He sold the women and children of Thebes into slavery, so yes, he would.”

“Well, perhaps he regrets it and wants to change things.”

“Maybe it’s a trap. What did he have to lose letting them go? They are exiles with no power, especially if the Great King is in flight. Iphicrates and the Spartan were the high price items. He can rehabilitate his image with no risks. Alkyone and I are a much riskier proposition.”

The boy seemed chastened by that.

“These political things… it just seems like everything is motivated by something hidden.”

Yes, I struggled with it as well, when Podaleirus would explain these things to me.

“Let’s see if we can find Lethos’s tent at the stadium, I’m sure it will be the tackiest one.

----

 Rhodes had always been like a more splendid big brother to Karpathos, so despite the trimmings for the festival, Glaukos felt at home compared to Athens. At home they are celebrating the feast to Poseidon too. He smiled thinking of his brothers and sisters walking to the small temple at Olympos to participate in the celebration. They never had horse races, but a foot race around the town was a staple. They picked their way through town to the stadium.

“That one has to be it,” Tydeus said, pointing to a gray and yellow tent with purple trim. He made a disdainful face, but Glaukos liked how the yellow made the purple stand out, like putting goldenrod with myrtle in the same wreath.

“Let’s see if we can squeeze in there.”

They stepped awkwardly over the many families that had come from outside of town, watching while sitting on some spread together cloaks. Finally they made it to the entrance, and waved past the attendant guards.

“Greetings, Lethos and Nothon! Sorry to come at such an inconvenient time!”

Glaukos didn’t like the look that crossed the two men’s faces when they saw them. It wasn’t shock, it just seemed  more predatory, just for a flicker, then the ‘polite surprised host’ mask slipped in to replace it.

“Oh Tydeus don’t apologized! We’re thrilled you were able to come earlier.”

“Yes, it’s so good to see you!” Alkyone jumped up and almost tripped over a cushion. Glaukos moved forward to catch her hand, pre-empting Tydeus. He caught her, then she made a show of righting herself as she pressed something hard into his palm. He looked up to catch her eye, but she had swept over to Tydeus, Lethos and Nothon, telling the former about the wrestling maneuver he had missed. Glaukos snuck a glance at his palm. There was a little pottery shard with small, neat writing on it. I don’t know how to read, he panicked. What could it even be? A love letter? As nice a thought that was, he didn’t think that was the truth. Maybe… something’s wrong and she can’t say it in front of everyone.

 The next bout was starting, so everyone hurriedly got back on their cushions. Glaukos made sure to stay close to Tydeus but on the opposite side of Lethos and Nothon. The two wrestlers were evenly matched, body-wise, the battle would come down to wits. During a particularly deft hold when everyone’s eyes were held on the action, Glaukos discreetly poked Tydeus in the side. The earned him a quick glare, but he put the little shard over his hand. Tydeus palmed it, and read while he acted like he was adjusting his position. After ten heartbeats, he crumbled the delicate little shard against the sandy ground. He read it that fast? He looked up from the tiny remnants to Tydeus’s face, which had gone slightly pale, but was working it’s way up to red. One of the wrestlers had caught his opponent behind the knee and slammed his head into the ground. The stadium erupted in cheers. Amidst the noise, Tydeus bent close to Glaukos’s ear and said without looking at him, “We’ve been betrayed. Wait for the signal, and we’ll have to run back to the boat.” What? He was slightly irritated. This shit again? I wanted to watch the games, not be a fugitive again. What could the signal be anyway? Match after match passed while Glaukos watched Tydeus and Alkyone from the corner of his eye, but neither of them gave any indication of a signal. Maybe he assumed that I read the message? They had a light mid-day meal with pomegranates for desert and relieved themselves during the intermission, but Tydeus didn’t acknowledge his questioning looks with a response. Probably because of all these people surrounding us. Lethos had about 10 slaves trailing them, and not just little push-overs, but big tattooed Thracians. The shadows lengthened so much they had to reposition the tent, and he was getting tired of being on edge. Finally Alkyone said something more than a flippant comment about the event, “Marduniya, the Persian, is in this event!”

“Really dear, you should rename that slave, it’s really quite the barbaric mouthful.” Phanessa answered, sprawled out beside her.

“Could we get closer to the action?”

“Do you want dust kicked into your face?”

“Let’s at least go to the mouth of the tent!” Alkyone said, turning to them.

Is this the signal? They moved close to the opening, standing up now like most of the crowd, but they were still surrounded by guards and the crush of the crowd, there was no way they were running through this. Glaukos could barely recognize the Persian from the sick, half-drowned lump that had been in his house four days ago. He had the same pants on as before, felt boots and a Median style shirt with fitted sleeves. His horse looked raring to go. The referee raised the short whistle-flute to his lips…

 ----

 Marduniya’s inner turmoil was reflected in his cuvetting horse. He had spent the last two days training it in the maneuver he was going for, but two days was nothing when it came to horse training. All day his gut had been roiling, and the sporting events didn’t do much to distract him. Who the hell runs and jumps around while naked? These Greeks are crazy. But then again, he wasn’t sure why anyone would dedicate themselves to running if you could just ride a horse much faster. Just like the last meal before a battle, he made sure his lunch wasn’t too heavy or anything that would cause bloating or gas. He had seen his little Getae friend, who had given him a smile showing all the teeth. Still, he hoped that after this race that madman didn’t kill the kid.

Finally, the race overseer tooted the approach to the starting line. The flute just didn’t have the same dignity as a Persian trumpet, making the moment seem oddly comical to him. Glancing about he could see that the other rich men of the island were more practical than his “master” and had chosen mares to race. Perfect. The crowd started cheering, kind of strange considering they would have been disgusted by him if he was walking along the road. The referee gave the signal for silence, and then… GO!

 He gave the horse a squeeze on the belly and a slap on the flanks to get it to ride into a gallop at once. The beginning and the turns were the most dangerous parts of the race, with all the horses bunched together. A light Greek youth next to him tried to elbow him off the saddle, but Marduniya caught him on the hook of his elbow and flipped him over the horse’s rump. That’s one down, out of 15. Despite the lack of rider, his horse continued to run, enjoying being part of the herd. That’s right, keep going. His concentration was swiftly ended by a punch in the jaw by some half-Scythian looking little bastard. He drove his bigger stallion into the other horse’s path, reaching out his arms to grapple him from the saddle. His opponent caught on, and soon Marduniya’s leg was being crushed against the two horses as they tried to pull each other off. Suddenly, his own horse swerved away, causing the Scythian to fall between them into the gap, just on top of another rider that the horses had moved to avoid. Marduniya looked around quickly to take stock of his surroundings, ignoring his throbbing jaw. Seven riderless horses milled about, though most of the thrown riders had gotten themselves outside the barricade, out of harm’s way. There were three riders ahead of him, and they were working on defeating each other. Two of the lithe riders were twisting out of the way of a heavier man. There was always a trade-off, a heavier rider would slow the horse down, but in a no holds barred race it could be an advantage.

 The two riders pulled ahead and the third slowed, and turned his attention on Marduniya. This one looked like a Getae compatriot of his buddy from the horse yard. He had a large blue boar tattooed on the arm he was trying to grapple Marduniya with. He slowed down, and moved to the outside of the turn, making the Getae smirk with victory. Then he surged forward, grabbed him and slammed the man’s head against the tall fence post of the turn. He was stunned, and comically rolled off the rump of his horse. Marduniya could hear the cheers of the crowd, and it got his blood up. Let’s see if you’re cheering once I finish this. There were only three other riders left besides him, and he knew he wasn’t going to catch up to the, before the next corner. It’s now or never. He slowed down a bit, and looped to the very inside of the track. The riderless horses were still cantering along. “Hey lion,” he spoke in a low voice to his horse, “don’t you want to guide that harem of mares? Isn’t it your dearest wish?” The stallion had been fighting him every time they had passed a mare.

The large group of horses got to the turn-off where the bulk of the crowd was standing, and Marduniya turned his stallion to cut off the others. There was a fence of wooden posts covered in cloth to separate the spectators from the horse race. As far as the horses were concerned, the red cloth was an impassable barrier. But after making him hop some logs with his cloak draped over them, Marduniya prayed his horse would jump when he wanted it to. Running at an angle between the wall and the other horses, the beast saw it had no choice but to jump. Some shrieking onlookers threw themselves backwards before he landed. Unfortunately, this horse was not as well trained as his old storm-gray, who would kick at a spoken command, but Marduniya leaned back onto the horses back until it was so uncomfortable that it kicked to right itself. The cloth ripped apart, and he reined in his stallion so that it reared and gave a commanding neigh. Follow me, ladies! So Marduniya gave his sides a kick, and they galloped up the stadium aisle, followed by 10 other riderless horses going varying speeds causing absolute pandemonium. Horses wouldn’t trample people on their own, Marduniya knew from watching the extensive training of war horses, but having the huge animals canter up close would terrify the rural people who weren’t used to it, whose screaming would only make the horses more antsy. They ran up the stadium seats, and up the hill, like a dam breaking, and soon the tents at the top of the hill were starting to topple. There’s my cue to get out of here, hope that was enough of a “distraction” for you. Although Alkyone had given him a good plan back at the house latrine, this part had been sort of a sketchy outline. He could see out of the corner of his eye that his Getae friend had won the race, but no one was paying attention.  Some guards were starting to push people out of the way to get to him, but he was riding a racehorse, while they were on foot. He turned his horse and set off towards the harbor.

[sirenfromthelostcity]

The Most Pt. 1

A/N: Okay so this is my first ever John Wick fic! In a nutshell, it’s basically like a mentor X student AU. I don’t know why but i couldn’t get that idea out of my head and i really wanted to write it, so here! It’s called The Most bc it reminds me of the song with the same title from Miley Cryrus’s new EP. I wouldn’t say the fic is inspired by the song, not entirely at least, but idk to me it just vibes with it (if that makes any sense? i feel like once the second part is out it might make more sense?). This fic is intended to have a second part so that shall also be posted shortly as i have another mini John Wick fic i wanna start and i also want to write the second part to my short Spider-Man fic. I’m so excited about this story y’all! I hope you all enjoy it! As always, feedback is always appreciated. Without further ado, enjoy! :))))

Words: 2.7k+

Today marks the fourth and a half year that you’ve been under John Wick’s tutelage. Only six more months left and John will have had completed his marker. Initially, John was rather reluctant to be your instructor but the marker held by your father gave him no other choice but to abide by your father’s request to turn you into a formidable assassin. Who better to teach you than the infamous John Wick himself?

In the beginning of your training journey, John didn’t bother to hide his reluctance in your father’s request. This made things rather difficult until one day you decided to confront him about his behavior. He was in his study, probably searching for a way to get out of having to train you, when you knocked to let your presence be known then proceeded to enter.

“Evening, Mr. Wick, call me crazy, but I’m getting an inkling that you don’t want to train me.”

He scoffed.

“Believe me, I get it. I bet you’d really rather not have me intercepting with your lonesome peace and quiet but the bottom line is that I have to do this too and I have to learn it all to be as good as you. Maybe not exactly as good as you, but good enough to have me not die immediately as that would be, despite your current opinion of me, quite upsetting.”

He silently glared at you for a long minute, still not very much pleased with his current situation, “Why do you want to do this?”

“Want, who said anything about want? You may be bound by a marker, Mr. Wick, but I’m bound by my family to learn and master everything that there is to know about how to thrive in this lifestyle to survive in it.”

The room remained uncomfortably silent for sometime but you still didn’t falter in your stance.

“Before me who did you train with?” he asked.

“Well I was being trained in Krav Maga by Gabriel Avdeyev for some time but he and my family had a falling out and-–”

“I heard,” he sighed. “.... Based on the results of your initial assessment you have a lot to improve on. For starters, the way you initiate your attacks are okay but they will need to be refined or you will be killed. Get some rest. Tomorrow at dawn we will continue your training.”

Despite knowing John couldn’t actually purposely hurt or kill you, he was still very intimidating and the confrontation was rather hard to execute. But, it paid off.

Training with the notorious John Wick also meant living with him and sometimes that involved taking care of each other. Along with being a good fighter and shooter, John also stressed that one needs to know how to properly patch themselves up. He’s given you medical lessons before but to really teach you, one night he decided to not go to his usually doctor for a patch up but to go directly to you instead and see what you’ve retained from your lessons. When that great idea struck him it was in the middle of the night and he gave you quite a fright when he went into your room all bloody. You almost shot him with the gun you had hidden under your pillow if it weren’t for his quick reflexes which actually made you feel really impressed considering he was critically injured.

“Are you serious, John?” you asked, rather irked at being abruptly awoken at three in the morning.

“No, I’m bleeding. Now get up, this is part of your training. Time to see how much you’ve retained from those medical lessons,” he grunted as another pang of pain struck his lower abdomen.

You promptly threw your covers over your body and got out of bed before leading him to the bathroom where the first aid kit was kept. After finding the source of his bleeding you unbuttoned his shirt and got to work. Under the circumstances, seeing John shirtless wasn’t at all awkward. However, ogling his exposed chest was the last thing on you mind considering how he was bleeding an awful lot from his lower abdomen.

“Jesus what did they nick you with? This looks really bad,” you comment as you inspect the wound.

“Broken bottle of champagne. Try to avoid those in the future, they can be pretty tricky to fix.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you proceeded to clean the wound and remove any stray traces of glass, subconsciously taking quick glances at him whenever he winced. “Do you need anything for the pain?”

“Do you happen to have bourbon in any of these cabinets?”

“No, but I wouldn’t really recommend that considering how alcohol consumption can actually thin your blood out and make you bleed more.”

“But it does help with the pain.”

“Mmmmm, I’d still wager more on the pills designed specifically for that.”

John huffed. At this point you’re finally starting to stitch up his wound but his pained grunts make it a little difficult to focus.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

“That’s so sad, John,” you paused to briefly glance at him. “Also super broody. We get it, you’re a badass.”

“A bad ass? That seems rude,” he sarcastically replied.

“Oh, my god, you’re actually joking with me for the second time this night. Don’t think I missed that dad joke earlier with the ‘No, I’m bleeding,’” you imitated his gruff voice and lightly laughed. “Good one, John.”

The small smile subconsciously remained on your face for a few seconds longer and John couldn’t help but admire how nicely it adorned your face. You caught him vaguely looking at you but simply assumed blood loss had something to do with the way he was looking at you. He turned away before you could even question your hypothesis.

“Well, we’re all done now. With the abdomen wound at least,” you noticed he’s also bleeding from his head and move to inspect it but his hands reached out and gently grabbed your wrists.

“It’s alright, (Y/N), I can take care of the rest, you’ve done good with the ugliest of them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, John, I’m here now and I’ve got this for you.”

Never one to waste words, John remained silent which you took as a go ahead.

Thankfully the injuries on his head were nothing more than a few small cuts. At least on that night they were. Some nights John would come back with much rougher cuts, clearly showing that whoever he had fought had certainly put up a good fight but not quite good enough to best John Wick. Still, not only did cleaning his injuries provide you with insights to his battles, it helped you both establish a sense of trust between you two.  

After that night, rather than go to his usual doctor John began going straight to you for his patch ups. Could he have chosen to start going to you simply because it’s quicker than stopping by The Continental first and then home? Possibly. The reason for him basically appointing you as his patch up doc never really came up but you didn’t really care. By then your affection and attachment to John was beginning to grow so you didn’t mind being the one to help him feel better after a difficult job. Not to mention that tending to his wounds meant having a good excuse to touch him. Not while overstepping your boundaries, of course, but sometimes it was just nice to be able to be able to grab his hands without it being weird. Tending to the cuts on his face was something you always saved for last. It was your chance to really admire his facial features up close while simultaneously healing it. Sometimes you were so gentle with him that he actually managed to doze off and you were able to tell when it happened because he’d look so relaxed and serene. When you had to wake him up, although you didn’t want to but you knew he’d sleep much more comfortably in his bed than in a stiff chair, he’d always apologize for falling asleep which in effect often lead you both to joke about it. However, you swear that you caught him blushing the first few times it happened and when it did it just felt so, human…

You and John have really come a long way in terms of tolerating each other and actually bonding together. You both truly did. Because John is your instructor and you are over a decade younger than him, your relationship with him was purely professional. However, after about two years of training with him, your feelings for him continued to evolve into a much more stronger and different kind of admiration.

Are you in love with The Baba Yaga?

The answer to that would be a very strong perhaps. When you and John were briefed on the deal of the marker, you were supposed to learn about weapons training, fighting forms, assassination techniques, melee weapons training, etc. You were to learn how to become a proficient and deadly assassin, such as John, not about love or anything else that might be considered a weakness.

You hardly ever give yourself the chance to ponder on your feelings for John, much less at the possibility that he could possess the same feelings of affection towards you. It’s not as if you believe that the less you think or talk about it the less real it is, you aren’t that naive. You’ve simply decided long ago that you’re not going to act on your feelings for John. Love or anything remotely close to that is just not in the cards for people like you and John. At least that’s what you keep repeating to yourself.

Still, with your training nearing to an end you’ve been feeling really glum about it. Training with the notorious John Wick hasn’t been easy but living with and falling in love with the real man behind the legend was so foolishly easy. John is an extremely proficient killer, that much is true, but he is also a man. John is a man with dry humor, a latent love for the simpler things in life, a fun penchant for stunt driving and cars, kind and gentle eyes, and, surprisingly but also not really, a man of a very chivalrous nature. Despite the initial turbulence in your mentor-student relationship, you and John inevitably became good friends which really allowed you to see him under a different light. He often took you out to nice dinners claiming that he wanted a change of scenery from an uneventful day or simply because you did very well while training. Either way you enjoyed your outings with him and also simply appreciated being in an entirely different place, not being reminded of the person you’re supposed to become. However whenever you got injured while training to become that person, John would actually help patch you up. Although he’s taught you how to do so yourself, John would claim the medical lessons were mainly for when you are by yourself and have no one to help you and he’d remind you that he’s there with you now. Which is pretty similar to what you’ve told him the first time you helped patch him up now that you think of it. For an assassin who’s extremely well known for his brutal techniques and merciless takedowns, it astounded you to learn that the same man can also be so gentle. You’re not even officially leaving yet but you already know just how badly you’re going to miss John Wick.

In spite of yourself choosing to not focus on a particular set of feelings held for a particular person, today your brain can’t help but do the exact opposite. Today, John decided to focus more on Brazilian Jui-Jitsu. Little to your knowledge, John actually enjoys training you in this fighting form because these techniques allow a weaker or smaller attacker to successfully overpower a stronger opponent by manipulating the human body and redirecting it’s force. Therefore, if you do it right, you could use the opponent's strength against them and take them down. Usually you do very well in this form of martial arts but today John is able to tell you’re not fully there with him. Although John is very good at Brazilian Jui-Jitsu you’re level of skill is practically on par with his as well and you’re current struggle to beat him is alerting him.

Currently, John has you in locked in a rear choke hold on the ground, with one arm wrapped around your neck, his other arm around your free arm, and one leg wrapped around your other arm preventing you from breaking free. You struggle for a few seconds, realizing there’s no use, he’s already one this match, and grunt in frustration. John loosens his grip around you but doesn’t fully release you yet, he brings his lips close to your ear, “What’s wrong?”

The feel of his breath on your skin sends shivers down your spine, yet you quickly and physically swat those thoughts to the side and shake your head, “Right now you have me in a choke hold and I can’t get out of it, John. I don’t know about you but this seems like a pretty big issue for me.”

John instantly releases his grip on you and rises up, he’s about to lend you a hand to get up as well but you’ve already beaten him to that.

“That’s not what I meant, (Y/N). Tell me, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you insist. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“For starters, I’ve been kicking your ass in this all day when I know I’ve taught you better than that. And for another, you just seem very distracted today.”  

John is as perceptive as he is deadly, which is why you don’t bother lying to him again and instead insist on continuing to train.

You look down for a second before looking up, making sure to avoid his concerned gaze, “Look, John, do you mind if we just call it in for the day?”

“Something is wrong,” he states.

“John,” you impatiently groan.   

“Why won’t you just tell me what the issue is?”

“Because there’s nothing you can do about it!” you snap and instantly regret it, rubbing at your temples. “Okay, I did not mean to say it like that. I’m sorry. I just need to cool off right now, John…”

This time you don’t wait for permission and simply walk away, however, John doesn’t try to stop you either. Not because he doesn’t care, quite the contrary in fact. Concerned and confused, John intently watches you head towards your room. He begins to trail after you but halts in his steps deciding that right now the  best option would be to give you your space. Still, John can’t help but wonder about what could possibly be troubling your mind so much and why you refuse to speak of it.

He glances one last time in the direction you previously walked in before heading towards the kitchen and serving himself a shot of bourbon.

“You can’t do anything about it!” your words replay in his mind.

“She’ll tell me when she’s ready,” he mentally tells himself. “We’ll figure it out then.”

John downs two more shots, currently finding it difficult to dwindle his concern and thoughts of you, before taking off in the direction of his room. He encounters the door to your bedroom on his way and halts at the entrance. He balls his hand into a fist and raises it to knock on your door but slowly brings it down and proceeds to head to his room. After finally entering his room, he gives your door one last glance before closing his door and retreating to his room for the remainder of the day.

[letmewritefreely]

By Your Side: Part 1

Demetri Stevens had spent the last few years of her life in the skybox for a crime she didn’t commit. One morning she woke up to a huge commotion in her cell block and before she knew it, she was on a dropship. She was sent from the Ark, a space station that had spent the last 97 years in space, down to Earth to see if it is inhabitable with 99 other prisoners. Once on Earth she reconnects with her old best friend, makes new friends, steps on some toes, and helps the 100 survive as they have returned to what was their home once before. With each test and trial; things change, people change, and feelings change. This is a new start for the 100, will Demetri allow it to be a new start for her as well? Or will ghosts of her past keep her stuck, well, in the past?

A The 100 fanfic written by letmewritefreely Bellamy Blake x OC: Demetri Stevens Warnings: It’s based off the 100 so, gore eventually, mentions or implications of sexual content, angst, fluff, violence, death, it will get darker as the series continues. A/N: If you take the time to read this I’d appreciate any feedback. This is kind of a self insert into the story {loosely} because if I were apart of the 100 this is how I’d want to be; but I created a whole character that tries to be clear-minded, selfless, and loves/gives everyone a chance despite her past. I hope you will give Demetri a chance, I put a lot of work into her. Enjoy Part 1 :) Parts: Prologue Part 1 Part 2

As Demetri came to she realized two things instantly, 1) she was fastened into something and could hardly move, and 2) her wrist was heavy and it ached. After forcing her eyes open, Demetri noticed she was smack-dab in the middle of a dropship and buckled in tightly. With a quick glance around she saw a few kids slowly being dragged into the main area much like she imagined she was. Demetri looked down at her wrist to see a bulky metal bracelet with a small green light and what looked like a sensor on the inside. She wiggled around in her seat to try and loosen her restraints when a voice scared her.

“It’s a waste of time, we’re here till they let us go.”

Demetri’s head snapped in the direction of the voice to see a young guy, probably around her age, with eyes full of adventure.

“I’m Finn, Finn Collins.” The brunette placed his hand out in front of him, a beanie snug on his head.

“Demetri.” She slowly took his hand in her grasp and shook Finn’s hand. “It’s not surprising they’d want to control us till the very end.” Demetri rolled her eyes.

Finn gave her an understanding look before opening his mouth again, his grin ever present.

“So what landed you in the skybox? I space walked, it was the coolest thing ever.” Finn seemed proud yet there was something in his eyes that didn’t match his words.

“Nothing as cool as that.” She tried to joke, “It’s not something I want to talk about.”

“Sure, I understand.” Finn nodded. “But whatever it was, we’re still kids. We can learn from our mistakes and start anew?” He seemed genuine enough in the moment causing Demetri to give him a small smile and a nod. “I hope when we land and hopefully don’t, ya know, die we can be friends.” He was forward and very blunt, a characteristic Demetri appreciated.

“Uh, sure.” Demetri nodded as she fully intended to steer clear of as many people as she could, because the amount of people she trusted even today was very few. And no amount of good intentions in her eyes was worth letting people get too close to her, not with her past with people.

Seemingly pleased Finn turned to the person on his other side to introduce himself to them. Demetri looked around the open area and noticed more and more people coming to. All strapped down by thick red seat belts. Some were standing and others were sat like her and Finn. Demetri wasn’t really paying attention until a blonde head caught her attention, she hadn’t seen Clarke in person in years but she’d recognize her anywhere. Demetri was about to call out to her old best friend when she noticed who was sitting by her looking extremely worried, Wells Jaha. Wells had created a wedge between the pair of girls years before Demetri was arrested and Demetri knew that even now, with a possible new start in front of their eyes he would continue to be just that, a wedge.

After what felt like hours all the seats in the main area were full. Demetri noted too, that everyone had the same bracelet on their left wrists, numbered one to hundred, that were probably recording and transmitting information. Her father, before his passing, was an electrical engineer so she knew a little about these things. Not enough to be ever be useful, but a bit. As Demetri’s thoughts were drifting to her father, the guards had just fastened the last delinquent into their seat. She watched thoughtfully as they started for the exit before the one at the back went down into the hatch by the door and disappeared. The door shut and there was a subtle vibration to the spacecraft.

In the next moment the dropship shook and then it was shot from the Ark, the force sent everyone back into their seats for a few seconds before the force almost disappeared completely.

“And we’re drifting through space.” Demetri mumbled, wishing there were windows so she could see them flying through space.

The moment was short lived as there was a loud crash and the dropship thrashed around a few moments before balancing out.

“And now we’ve entered the atmosphere.” Demetri whispered to herself. Her hands were gripping the seat belt so tight her knuckles were pale white.

The lights turned on and the monitors sprinkled on every other wall around the dropship came to life with Jaha’s face on them. All those aboard turned towards them while the mindless and nervous chatter went silent.

“Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now. You’ve been given a second chance, and as your Chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us, indeed a chance for mankind itself.”

Demetri glared at the monitor almost directly in front of her, disliking the man before her. That monotonic voice of his grating on her nerves and making a sense of anger swell in her chest. If Wells annoyed her, then his father brought on a sense of animosity in her that no one else matched, not even Kane.

“We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odds of survival were better, we would’ve sent others. Frankly, we’re sending you because your crimes have made you expendable.”

Now her blood was boiling. Even if she hadn’t committed the crime that got her locked up, none of the people around her deserved this. Taking a moment to clear her mind, she noticed for the first time that she knew a lot of the people being sent down along her side. Most of those around her age or a little younger were in the same Earth Science class as she was, there were a few a little older that she recognized due to her father having been friends with their parents. Those too much younger that her she wasn’t too sure about, but with them being so young she felt they were even more wronged in this situation. Her attention darted back to Clarke, what had she done to get herself on this dropship hurtling towards Earth? What happened after Demetri had gotten locked up?

“Those crimes will be forgiven, your records wiped clean. Now, the dropsite has been chosen carefully, before the last war, Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain.” The signal cut out as Jaha was talking, but his voice continued. “It was supposed to be stocked with enough non-perishables to sustain 300 people for up to two years.”

Demetri heard a catcall and turned to notice Finn was no longer beside her. Her eyes found him floating a few feet off the ground just out of arm's reach. She frowned, what he was doing was incredibly dangerous but also incredibly stupid. Then again, if this guy had really space-walked then he must do incredibly dangerous and incredibly stupid well.

“No one ever made it there cause we didn’t.” Jaha’s voice faded into the chatter and calls coming from Finn’s audience.

Demetri noticed Wells’ face and knew he was berating Finn for acting so dangerously. She also noticed the worried look Clarke wore as two others began to unbuckle themselves and float into the air.

“Your one responsibility, stay alive.” Jaha’s word cut out as the dropship suddenly shifted.

Demetri watched as Finn was thrown into the people buckled to the closest wall and the two who just left their seats went through pipes running from the floor to the ceiling. The dropship jerked around, sparks flew, and other than being scared out of her mind, Demetri was pushing herself back into her seat relatively calmly.

There were exclaims of fright from those who could open their mouths, others were doing the same as Demetri and managing to hold on for dear life. Demetri looked over at Clarke and saw the raw fear on her face and for a moment, Demetri was afraid they would die without having the chance to talk again. Demetri didn’t hate Clarke, they used to be best friends after all, but she harbored a lot of mixed feelings for the blonde girl. She watched Clarke whip her head towards Wells, the look on his face was a mixture of scared and pleading. Demetri watched his entire face drop at something Clarke said and while she enjoyed his suffering the teeniest bit, the current situation was scaring the hell out of her. The lights flickered before they shut off, leaving everyone in the dark and it only made Demetri hold onto her seatbelt tighter. There was more thrashing and those around her vocalized their fear.

As quickly as it all started, it ended and they were surrounded in silence. Demetri looked all around her to see everyone but the two who went through the pipes were moving and muttering nervously. A voice from the far wall from Demetri spoke shakily.

“Listen, no machine hum.”

As everyone seemed to share a collective sigh of relief the seatbelts simultaneously clicked. Demetri threw the restraints from her body and jumped up before she fell to her knees on the floor. Her breathing was still panicked and uneven as her hands shook a bit but she was alive. She saw others like her, holding their chests and trying to catch their breath. The girl beside her, Harper, had also fallen to her knees the moment she stood. The girls exchanged a shocked look but it dissolved into quiet chuckles before they both stood and stretched. Demetri surveyed the area and those still in the middle level.

Clarke had jumped up the moment she could and ran to the two boys who crashed through the pipes. Finn had rushed to one as Clarke ran to the other, just by the look they exchanged it was easy to tell they were both dead. People started towards the doors and before Finn could say anything Clarke moved to stop them. Demetri stayed towards the back but watched everything happen. She moved down the ladder on the opposite side from Clarke and noticed the guard from earlier by the doors. He was trying to keep everyone back for the moment. He wore the guards’ uniform and he looked put together with his slicked back hair and clean appearance. Yet Demetri could not figure out who he was. Most new members of the guard were trained in the cell blocks and he was not familiar in the slightest.

“We’re dead anyway if the air is toxic.” The guard said back to Clarke’s warning, an indifferent tone to his voice.

“Bellamy?” A girl called as she came down the ladder Demetri just descended.

Everyone watched as she shoved people aside to get to him, before she wrapped him up in a tight hug.

“She’s the one who lived under the floor.” Demetri side glanced the guy beside her, recognizing the girl immediately and remembering the short time they spent in the same cell block.

She was the infamous Octavia Blake which meant the guard was her older brother, Bellamy Blake. As soon as it was discovered that someone had had two children, everyone knew about it. Demetri had still been in a normal cell when Octavia was locked up. It was all anyone talked about for weeks, that Octavia had an older brother, that her mother was floated for breaking the rules. Demetri moved closer to the doors to watch the scene unfold, it must be nice to have someone love you so much they’d sneak onto a metal death box being shot down to a rocky death field for you. She was already a little jealous of Octavia in that sense, no one in her life would do something so reckless and stupid for her.

When Clark interrupted them the girl, Octavia, turned towards her a glare affixed to Clarke.

“Do you mind? I haven’t seen my brother in a year.”

“No one has a sibling.” A guy called, earning the glare that was just on Clarke.

A girl called out Octavia’s name and the chatter grew to a deafening roar all about her and Bellamy. Octavia’s eyes changed and she bolted towards the girl. She barely made it two steps before Bellamy grabbed her. Demetri should have just stayed back but she wanted this girl to have her moment, to prove all the assholes who doubted her and talked shit about her wrong. Demetri caught herself taking a small step forward and speaking before she could stop herself.

“So what?” Demetri spoke up loudly earning everyone’s attention. “Sure, back on the Ark it was a huge deal but we’re not there anymore.” She stepped forward again looking between the siblings before her gaze landed on Octavia. “Give them something else to talk about, be the first person to step on Earth in 100 years.”

Bellamy focused on Demetri, his eyes were guarded but he nodded to her and pulled the lever to open the door. As it fell and exposed the 100 to the air and Earth, the sunlight blinded everyone. The wind blew into the dropship and ruffled everyone’s hair. From what Demetri could see, it was lush and green wherever they landed. It seemed too bright for a few moments and then everyone started fidgeting to get outside themselves. They watched quietly as Octavia took a deep breath as she tiptoed down the dropship door before jumping from the edge of the ship onto the ground.

“We’re back bitches!” Octavia yelled and the dam broke.

Everyone ran out yelling and cheering, those who knew each other rejoiced with hugs and sharing the moment together. Demetri took a few steps out and let the dirt sink beneath her shoes, she breathed in the freshest air she’d ever breath, and she looked at the dense green forest around her. She had no idea there were two people watching her, one shocked and the other intrigued.

“Demi?” Demetri spun to face Clarke, who looked as if she had seen a ghost.

“Hi Clarke.” Demetri suddenly felt embarrassed as she brought her flailing arms closer to her body.

Before she could say anything else Clarke flew at her, arms circling around her neck and holding her tight, much like the reunions Demetri had see before. After a few moments Demetri hugged her back, she had missed the comfort a hug gave her especially from someone who meant as much to her as Clarke once did.

“You’re here? Oh my god.” Clarke’s voice was strained. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“We used to be best friends, I’d never leave without saying goodbye.” Demetri’s voice shook before she steeled her nerves and she ruffled Clarke’s hair affectionately. “Abby came to see me often, why didn’t you ever come?”

“I-I didn’t know you had been arrested until I was.” Clarke explained, pulling back from the hug and holding onto Demetri by her shoulders as if the moment Clarke let go her best friend would disappear again.

“Abby never told you what happened?” Clarke shook her head. “Oh.”

“Tell me after we’re settled? Because I need to know what happened and why you disappeared.” Clarke smiled at her older friend, the light not reaching her eyes.

“Why did you get arrested?” Demetri gawked at her friend before her. “I never thought I’d leave and you’d turn to a life of crime?” Demetri tried to joke.

“I’ll explain that too. Right now, we need to see where we are.” Demetri nodded, following Clarke.

The pair walked around trying to find higher ground as Clarke pulled a map from her jacket and started looking at her surroundings trying to find out where they were. They got to a clearing at the top of a hill and with a quick back and forth between the map and the landscape before her Clarke sighed. Demetri was about to ask Clarke what made her sigh when someone else beat her to it.

“Why so serious, Princess?” The familiar voice of Finn asked as he stepped between the two of them, giving Demetri a quick smirk. “We didn’t die.”

“Two of us did.” Clarke replied dryly, her focus on the peaks before them.

“You don’t like being called Princess, do you Princess?” Finn’s smile faded a bit, but the light was still present in his eyes as he glanced between the two girls.

Demetri rolled her eyes, this Finn guy really had no idea who he was teasing did he. She had a comment on the tip of her tongue when Clarke’s voice stopped her, her friend sounded exasperated.

“You see that peak? That’s Mount Weather. Between us and our next meal is a radiation soaked forest.” Clarke folded the map up again, and turned to look at the two beside her. “They dropped us on the wrong damn mountain.” Clarke ignored Finn as he opened his mouth to say something and she reached around him to grab for Demetri’s hand. Clarke quickly tugged Demetri away from the boy and back towards the dropship.

---

Demetri followed Clark with Finn trailing behind them back to the dropship and the rest of the 100. Some of their people were already moving things out of the ship and working together to build lean-to shelters when Finn was pulled away to help. Demetri looked around to see a handful of shelters already built, but the majority of the kids were running around as teenagers would.

“So, plan?” Demetri asked as she watched Clarke accept the pencil from her and connect two dots on the map, where they are and Mount Weather. They leant over the door of the dropship looking at the map together as Demetri looked over the notes Clarke had made.

“We have to hike across the forest, we ca--” Clarke was cut off by a brooding figure approaching them.

“We’ve got some problems.” Wells stopped right up next to the pair, he didn’t even spare Demetri a glance as he talked right to Clarke. “The comms are dead and there are at least a dozen panels missing from the roof. The systems got fried on the way down here.”

“Look, Mount Weather is the priority.” Clarke pointed down to the map. “We’ve got to get here and we’re here.” On the map the distance didn’t look too bad, but looking at what they had to cross earlier already made Demetri feel exhausted.

“Where’d you learn that?” Wells looked down at the map with the notes about distance scribbled below the line and possible terrains marked.

“Her father.” Demetri interrupted, stepping between the two. “So how fa--”

“A map? Cool, is there a bar nearby? I’ll buy the first round.” A goofy looking kid with goggles joked, looking between Demetri and Clarke. Demetri grinned at the kid before her.

Wells didn’t find it very funny as he glanced at Clarke. Wells completely looked over Demetri and pushed the kid back with a hard shove to his shoulder. The kid shuffled back barely catching himself before he fell. Clarke turned to Wells, about to scold him when another voice stole their attention.

“Hey, hands off he’s with us.” A guy with brown hair long enough to be tucked behind his ears approached with a group of rough looking teenage guys following him.

Wells, who was suddenly outnumbered, was trying to deescalate the situation when Demetri spun towards the voice. The face and voice were familiar and it took her only a few seconds to remember where she recognized them from. The memory flashed before her eyes from the last time she had seen the guy in front of her. Before she could think about the consequences Demetri pushed past Wells, went right up to the guy, and punched him in the middle of his face as hard as she could. Her hands shook as she stared right at John Murphy. The fake guard from early, Bellamy, saw what happened and rushed forward to pull her from the shocked and bleeding Murphy. She didn’t struggle as he wrapped an arm around her stomach with his hand holding her forearm as he tugged her a few feet back.

“Woah, hey!” Bellamy yelped as he looked between the girl and Murphy.

“John Murphy you son of a bitch.” Demetri growled, eyes locked on the guy holding his nose, with blood peeking through his fingers.

Clarke gawked at her, Demetri was not someone who typically attacked people physically, she used her words. Sure Clarke had seen the older girl knock a few people onto their butts on the Ark but it was mainly kids picking on Clarke. She had never seen Demetri nearly break someone’s nose like that. After Murphy got a good look at the girl being held back by Bellamy, his eyes went from anger to straight up shock. When he had made the connection she had, he stepped forward ready to apologize but Bellamy shook his head. Murphy retreated with a weird look on his face, his group of hoodlums following closely behind glaring at Demetri.

“What’s going on?” Clarke’s voice cracked. “Demi?” Her attention solely on the older girl still being held back by Bellamy.

“I’m not going to hit him again, let me go Blake.” Demetri spat, eyes never leaving Murphy’s retreating figure. “Don’t worry about it Clarke, it’s nothing.” She glanced at her younger friend.

“Let’s focus on the bigger issue here,” Wells stole the attention, “We need to find Mount Weather.”

Bellamy looked down at the girl in his arms, he could still feel her body trembling slightly but he let her go. He watched her walk closer to the blonde most knew as Clarke, and lean against the door of the ship. Her bruised knuckle rested on top of her crossed arms and she focused on what was going on around her. Demetri noticed a few people had gathered around them but most of the 100 were off exploring or working to get some sort of a shelter set up, even if it were for themselves.

“You heard what my father said, getting to Mount Weather is our top priority.” Wells turned to those around him as he spoke. Demetri listened to him with a sour look on her face.

“Screw your father.” Octavia spat. “Think you’re in charge? You and your little princess?” Octavia turned her glare to Clarke.

Demetri watched the younger Blake closely, she’d formed a soft spot for the girl when they were in the same cell. But if Octavia caused trouble or made Demetri’s life harder than it had to be, she would have to get over that soft spot quickly. Demetri’s gaze moved from the younger Blake to the older one only to find Bellamy already looking at her. He looked away when he was caught and focused on Clarke who had started talking.

“I don’t care who’s in charge, we don’t care who’s in charge. If we don’t get to Mount Weather soon, it will be harder later on. We need those supplies in order to survive and that’s why we’re here right? To survive.” Clarke looked around as a few more people start to crowd around and listen. “It’s close to a 20-mile hike, we need to go now to get a good start before it’s dark.”

“How about the privileged do the work for once and you two go.” Bellamy shared the glare Octavia wore.

“You think two people can carry enough supplies for a hundred people?” Demetri scoffed, focusing on Bellamy as he looked at her. “You seem pretty smart, how does that math work out for ya?”

“We all need to go.” Wells tried again, completely ignoring Demetri still.

Murphy stepped forward from the side and shoved Wells away from Clarke. He seemed to be feeling better when his nose had stopped bleeding. Wells hit the ground with a thud and a pop, before he had trouble standing up. Wells rolled to his side and glared up at Murphy. This is exactly the problem with sending a bunch of teenagers and young adults to the ground, this petty shit was inevitable.

“We have the Chancellor of Earth now.” Murphy chuckled, obvious to how everyone followed his movements.

Demetri took a step forward while rolling her eyes and mirrored Murphy’s steps. She had moved the moment Wells had hit the ground. Two of Murphy’s guys grabbed Clarke and the other two looked like they were planning to move for Demetri, before she dodged them and shoved them both away. Wells stood as quickly as he could with his ankle hurting and started towards Murphy. It looked like they were going to get into fist fight and the crowd was only egging it on. Demetri moved up the side of the ship door ready to step in. She had tightened her fist, ready to punch Murphy again when Finn landed between the two guys with a graceful thud. Finn moved to stand right in front of Murphy, looking him up and down before he spoke.

“It’s not really a fair fight if one guy’s got only one leg. Why not wait, huh?” Murphy didn’t say anything at that, but left the area with a grunt. His guys following him after they sent mean looks as they left.

“Hey spacewalker,” Demetri watched Octavia glide towards Finn a smirk on her lips, “Rescue me next.”

Demetri stood there as Clarke rushed to Wells’ side, she relaxed her body the best she could, the tension had made her sore hand hurt more. Her attention shifted towards the Blake siblings when Bellamy started dragging Octavia away going on about how he’s protecting her. She listened to them go back and forth, Octavia explained her need to be free and act crazy for once in her life. She watched panic flash over Bellamy’s face before he looked around. He locked eyes with Demetri and froze, his eyes were set in a glare before he tugged Olivia further away and out of sight of most of the others around.

Demetri pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the dropship door as Clarke examined Wells’ foot. Hearing approaching steps to her left, Finn caught her attention and she smiled at him to which he returned one of his own. He glanced between three of them before his eyes landed on Clarke.

“So Mount Weather? When we leaving?” He tugged on the straps of his backpack for emphasis.

“Now.” Clarke stood up, she moved to grab her backpack from beside her, barely sparing a glance at Wells who looked defeatedly up at her.

Demetri stood too, shouldering her pack and moved to Clarke’s side. The crowd around them had dispersed after the chance of watching a fight ended, leaving only a few people within earshot of the small group. Truthfully, Demetri wasn’t looking forward to this expedition but it needed to be done and being one of the oldest down on the ground meant she had to step up. And there was no way she’d let Clarke wander off into the unknowns of the forest alone.

“There’s no way three of you,” Wells paused, acknowledging Demetri for the first time, “can bring enough back for all of us.” Demetri sneered at the guy sitting on the ground before her, not letting him see how much she agreed with him.

“Five.” Finn grabbed the goofy goggles kid and the guy who hadn’t left his side since they landed, who exchanged a look before they straightened out.

“This sound fun, make it six!” Octavia giggled, stepping up next to goggles.

“Like hell you are.” Bellamy grabbed Octavia’s arm, but she shoved his hand from her body.

“You’re not stopping me.” Octavia turned from her brother to the rest of the group.

Clarke zeroed in on Finn’s wristband, it was scratched up far more than they should be. Demetri knew the look on her face, and as she subconsciously tucked the wristband behind her, Demetri prepared herself to hear one of Clarke’s scoldings.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to take it off? They transmit your vital signs to the Ark.” Clarke’s eyes narrowed at the older guy before her.

“So?” Finn asked, hiding the wristband behind his back.

“So,” Clarke’s eyes snapped to Demetri before going back to Finn. “Do you want your loved ones to worry about you being dead or not?”

Demetri noted the way Bellamy’s eyes flitted to each of their bracelets, she could see his gears turning and she didn’t like it. Finn eventually shook his head to answer Clarke’s questions and then she started to walk away with most of the group following. Demetri watched Bellamy, the worry masking his features but there was determination in his eyes. The two didn’t seem to match the situation and Demetri felt like he couldn’t be trusted. There was more to just him coming down in the dropship for Octavia.

“Be careful.” Bellamy nodded towards the group.

Octavia pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and ran off to follow. Demetri smiled to herself when Clarke told Wells as she passed she didn’t want him here. Bellamy was watching her when her eyes flashed back to him, his eyebrows were pushed together. Bellamy had been watching her the whole time they’d been on the ground and he knew nothing about her other than she was brave and observant. He saw how she was always observing everything, and it made him nervous. The girl that spiked his curiosity spared him one last look before she hiked her bag higher up on her shoulder and took off after the group. Bellamy watched her until she was out of sight and then he turned back to the camp, ideas already running through his mind on how to take care of the wristbands. Demetri caught up to Clarke as Octavia was on her other side talking about Finn. She rolled her eyes but found it slightly funny that they’d been on the ground maybe an hour and there was already a fight over a boy. And it was over Finn, much less.

---

Demetri followed along quietly taking in the beauty of the real nature around here. Nothing from the Ark even came close to looking this lush and green. She’d seen the tree on the Ark, a small bonsai tree that had a small following that gave it water at every ceremony. Kane’s mother, Vera, had taken care of Demetri a lot after her father died, she was like her real grandmother. The little tree Vera loved so much couldn’t hold a match to the beauty of the Earth before her, and Demetri hoped one day Vera could see it for herself. Demetri focused back onto the world before her when she heard a quiet giggle. She watched Finn tuck a flower behind Octavia’s ear as Demetri jogged up to Clarke. Demetri sent her a small smile as Clarke turned towards the lagging group and scolded them to hurry up. Demetri stopped and turned to the four behind her with an unsure smile.

“She isn’t always like this.” Demetri shrugged, moving forward again. “She’s just worried about everything.” Demetri offer a small smile.

“Uhm, we haven’t met.” Goggles kid appeared by her side, his friend on her other side, both looking equally nerdy.

“I’m Jasper, that’s Monty.” His friend waved shyly, “And you are?”

“Demetri, but you can call me Demi.” She smiled at the two, her initial plan to not get close to anyone new melted away when they smiled down at her so warmly.

“It’s very nice to meet you Demetri. You’re pretty cool.” Monty leapt in front of them a bit and walked backwards to talk to her. “Punching Murphy like that was amazing.”

“It also makes you a little scary.” Jasper added, wrapping an arm around Demetri’s shoulder. “I’ve made a mental note to not piss you off.” He winked at her.

“Good idea.” Demetri chuckled, instantly liking the pair of younger guys. “You should also think twice about flirting with an older woman.” She watched Jasper’s face heat up immediately before he pulled his arm away from her. “It’s cute, don’t get me wrong but I’ll be twenty-one in a few months, so you’re reaching.”

“You’re almost twenty-one? Everyone goes up for review on their twentieth birthday.” Monty furrowed his brows, “Why didn’t you?”

“I figured they forgot about me. I should have been floated for the crime they thought I committed.” Her tone was bitter. Before either of the guys could say anything to that, another voice spoke stealing their attention.

“Demetri?” She turned her head to see Octavia catching up to them. “Thanks for early, the dropship thing.” Octavia was quiet, her hands twisting in front of her.

“It was nothing.” Demetri waved it off. “It’s not fun to have people talk shit about something you couldn’t control.” Demetri replied airily, looking between the three before her. “People will always talk, it’s what they do best. At least now it’ll be in awe.” She winked at Octavia, who smiled up at her.

They continued walking behind Clarke in a cluster with conversation flowing easily. Demetri felt herself already growing attached to the people around her, each was filled with a sense of wonder and a thirst for life. Demetri saw the recognition flash across Octavia’s face after a story Demetri had told about her time in the skybox and she smiled brighter at the older girl and stayed by her side. Finn asked how the pair ended up in the skybox, seeing as they weren’t the troublemaking type. Monty sheepishly explained that his family worked in the farm station and had access to many different types of herbs, and he forgot to replace what they took the last time. The situation made Demetri laugh.

“Over here.” Clarke called quietly, pausing the conversation.

Everyone rushed over to see the deer Clarke spotted. Awe passed over the group at the first animal they had seen since landing. Finn, in an attempt to get closer, stepped on a branch and the deer turned towards the group to reveal a second head growing out of its neck. Octavia gasped, grabbing onto Demetri’s arm.

“Let’s keep moving.” Clarke watched the deer run off in awe before moving again. “We still have a lot of ground to cover.”

---

The others were chattering in front with Finn leading, he had offered to do so and took the map from Clarke. Demetri hung back by Clarke as the pair walked in step with each other. It felt surreal to be hiking in a woods on Earth with her best friend, and Demetri was hoping it wasn’t just a vivid and jaw-dropping dream. She stole glances as Clarke as they hiked on, noticing how distant her friend looked.

“Abby saw me before we were sent down here.” Demetri broke the silence. “She said we need to take care of each other.”

“I’m surprised you’re talking to me.” Clarke sighed. “I practically abandoned you.” Clarke shook her head. “Mom said you were recruited for one of the other stations and you left. I just, I accepted it.”

“You didn’t know.” Demetri sighed too, looking up at Clarke. “I’m not surprised she didn’t tell you the truth, she’d do anything to protect you.” Clarke’s face hardened at that. “Knowing the truth would have crushed you.” Demetri scrunched her nose at her friend.

“That’s hard to believe.” Clarke muttered before turning to her best friend. “Can you tell me what happened? Have you been locked up this whole time?” Demetri nodded, but she sighed realizing this wouldn’t make sense to Clarke.

“That kid, John Murphy, he stole meds for his mom when the med wing didn’t give her enough. I was returning some books to the library for your mom when he rounded a corner and slammed into me.” Demetri focused on the forest floor before her as she spoke. “The hood of his jacket fell when he did and I saw his face. He looked so scared before he ran away. I was looking at what he dropped when the guards saw me. They took me to the Chancellor right away because I was wearing a similar jacket.” Demetri shook her head, the face of the Chancellor appearing before her. “He figured since my father died a thief, I followed in his footsteps. Because I was only fourteen I was locked up in the skybox.”

“Why didn’t you tell them who it was? You’re innocent.” Clarke looked up at Demetri confused, Demetri already had a response ready.

“Clarke, no one steals drugs for no reason. Maybe his mom was dying.” Demetri shrugged, watching Clarke deflate a little. “I don’t want anyone else to have their parents ripped away from them and I had practically no one so I just dealt with it. I only found out what happened because Abby had looked into it and told me. She didn’t believe I did it.”

“So you took the fall for him? Just like that? Even after you knew.” Clarke gaped.

“I was hoping maybe he’d learn but he still ended up in the same place. Maybe I should have snitched but it’s too late.” Demetri threw her arm over Clarke’s shoulders. “Besides I wouldn’t be here to keep an eye on you and experience all this if I had.” Demetri gestured around her. “What about you? You’re the complete opposite of a rule breaker, how did you end up here?”

“I, uh, I tried to help me dad reveal to everyone on the Ark that it’s dying. So I was arrested for treason.” Clarke’s story was much shorter and left Demetri more confused than she had imagined she’d be. “Yeah.” Clarke nodded absentmindedly when she saw the look on Demetri’s face.

“What?” Octavia’s attention flew to them, the rest of the group freezing momentarily too.

“He was an engineer and he noticed that with the current supplies and population level, those onboard can only survive for three more months, maybe four now without us.”

“That’s why you were locked up and your old man floated?” Finn asked, not even bothering to sugarcoat it.

Demetri felt like the air was knocked out of her lungs. Clarke’s father was dead. He had only ever done what was best for his family, and Demetri after she’d become apart of it. He had always worked so hard to take care of everyone on the Ark. He worked hard for the Ark and they just killed him like that. She struggled to keep up with the group as it started moving again, everyone was listening to Clark.

“He thought the people should know, the council didn’t, my mother didn’t.” Clarke looked at the ground. “We were going to go public when Wells…”

“He gave up your dad?” Demetri choked out, remembering the distance between the once best friends with a new feeling of distaste for the young man. “But he --” Demetri didn’t even know what to say.

“The guards got to him before we could.” Clarke’s eyes looked vacant. “At least now they bought themselves more time.” Demetri didn’t know how to comfort her friend, she wasn’t the best at comfort. Whenever something happened that called for comfort Demetri often closed in on herself, she wasn’t the best at dealing with upset people.

“They’ll kill more people won’t they?” Monty asked quietly.

“Probably.” Demetri started at the ground as Octavia pushed passed them all. “And they deserve it.”

Demetri stopped beside Clarke with a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Clarke put her hand on top of Demetri’s and gave her a weak smile. They would have more time to talk once they reached Mount Weather and the supplies. They turned their attention to the front as Octavia stopped, stripped down to her tank top and underwear, and jumped into the river before them. Clarke stared in bewilderment, mumbling something about a river not supposed to be here. Finn chuckled at her and stripped off his shirt, pointing towards the river before them with a smirk. The mood warmed as everyone laughed and cheered, then started to undress to join her. The guys had taken off their shirts and the girls were removing their shoes when Jasper saw something in the water that made him freeze. Whatever it was was moving at an incredible speed towards Octavia. He yelped and everyone else looked up to see what made him start freaking out. She was underwater and being dragged away before anyone could react. In the next moment Jasper was yelling and the group jumped into action.

Clarke, Finn, and Monty struggled to shove a large rock in the water a few feet away to distract whatever it was while Demetri and Jasper rushed to help Octavia. As soon as the river monster had let go of Octavia and swam after the rock Jasper jumped in and pulled her to the shore while Demetri pulled them both up on land in turn. Clarke rushed over to make sure the wound on her leg was okay. She tied some fabric above the bite to slow the bleeding. The excitement from the near death experience passed quickly, they got dressed and continued along the riverside, the idea of swimming not sounding as fun. They walked for few more hours before exhaustion hit them. The group found a place to camp for the night and they quickly devolved into slow breaths and quite snores.

Demetri sat against a tree and watched over the group, she wasn’t as tired as the rest and she wanted to take in their surroundings more. She pulled out one of her empty notebooks and a pencil, and started sketching the area. The trees, the flowers, the moss, and the mushrooms, anything that she was seeing before her she started drawing. She even added a little sketch of the group before her, Monty and Jasper sprawled out, limbs everywhere. Octavia had settled herself between Demetri and the two guys, she was curled up. Finn was on Demetri’s other side boxing Clarke in between them. Demetri suddenly felt this sense of fondness for the people around her again, they were going to be her lifelines from now on. And as she sat on that idea she felt surprisingly content with it. She continued to draw until her eyelids grew heavy and her pencil slipped from her hand.

Demetri awoke to Clarke and Finn talking a few feet away, the forest before them glowing in the dusk. There was a plant all around them that had been translucent when the sun was up and now it was glowing brightly, lighting up the darkness around them. She watched Clarke giggle, a sound she hadn’t heard in years, and Finn give her a bright smile. He lead her a bit away by her hand and they continued giggling to one another. Demetri smiled to herself before she put her things away and snuggled deeper into her jacket. This was a new start for everyone else, maybe Demetri could take that to heart and have a new start too.

---

As the sun rose to signify the beginning of a new day the group got up with it. They stretched and after consulting the map, went looking for a way to cross the river. They broke off into pairs and wandered off a bit to look for a bridge or logs, or anything to get them to the other side without going into the river. Demetri walked idly along the riverside by Clarke, who was lost in her head as they went.

“So you and Finn?” Demetri nudged Clark to get her attention.

“What about me and Finn?” Clarke glanced Demetri’s way as she climbed over a waterlogged trunk.

“I saw you two last night, I think he likes you.” Clarke rolled her eyes as she helped Demetri over the trunk too.

“So?” Demetri rolled her eyes next, giving Clarke a skeptical look.

“So? Clarke, he likes you. I think you should give the guy a chance.” Demetri winked, looking up when Finn yelled about finding something. “We to get start over, he seems nice. And he’s kinda hot.” Demetri shrugged when Clarke shoved her lightly.

“Kind of hot?” Clarke gawked for a moment. “I mean, sure but it’s whatever.” She shrugged.

“Okay. ‘it’s whatever,’ Clarke we both know you like the kid.” Demetri held her hands up, “You have no worries either, we have never liked the same guy and that won’t start now.” Demetri bit back the knowing grin as Clarke shoved Demetri’s shoulder away from her before she chuckled.

“I’ve missed you.” Clarke locked her arm with Demetri’s, “Even if you’re annoying.”

“Ah, a mutual feeling finally!” Demetri giggled as they jogged towards Finn.

The boy stood on the highest ledge overlooking the river holding onto a tangle of vines. Demetri traced it all the way to the canopy of the trees along the riverbank, some trees reaching almost completely across the river. Finn kept tugging on it to test it’s strength with an unsure look on his face. Jasper was by Finn’s side giving him tips and telling him the best way to get across somewhat safely. The other four were sprinkled around the rocks waiting to see what was going to happen. Just when it looked like Finn had gathered himself and would give it a go, Jasper stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Demetri watched a smirk form on Finn’s face before he glanced at Octavia. Finn looked back at Jasper and handed the vine over to Jasper with a solid hand on his back. In the next moment Jasper leapt off the ledge, grip tight on the vine as he flew across the river hanging on for dear life. Everyone watched with smiles on their faces as Jasper landed rather ungracefully, but he had landed on the other bank. Everyone started to celebrate Jasper’s success as Finn grabbed the vine as it swung back. He handed it to Clarke in the next moment for her to go next, a light in his eyes. Demetri watched Jasper move some weeds and overgrowth around as Finn explained what to do to Clarke. Jasper found a sign and jerked it out of the weeds and flashed it towards his friends on the other side of the river. They saw Mount Weather on the beat up and dirty sign as Jasper waved it around, cheering as he did. Everyone echoed his cheering and yelling before a spear flew through the air and hit Jasper right in the chest. Demetri watched in shock as he was slammed back against the ground with a spear sticking out of his upper torso. Everyone froze and the excitement vanished in seconds.

“Jasper!” Monty yelled his voice cracking as he stuttered forward moving up beside Demetri.

“Oh my god.” Octavia covered her mouth, she had stopped half way up the rocks. There was no doubt in Demetri’s mind that the younger girl had wanted to go after Clarke had crossed.

Finn grabbed Clarke and Octavia by the hand and drug the frozen pair back to the treeline. Monty saw what Finn was doing and grabbed Demetri, who hadn’t moved since she watched Jasper go down. Monty jerked her forward and pulled her behind him towards the others. The five of them ducked behind the rocks and they started looking around frantically. Demetri’s eyes never left Jasper. He was too far away to be able to tell if he was still breathing, but the spear didn’t seem to have went in too deep. There were a lot of thoughts running through Demetri’s head and the first one was, no class they were required to take ever prepared them for this.

[the-sarcastic-gay-boy]

Things right now are good for me, they are. Yet all I can seem to get my mind to focus on is the bad things. I have amazing friends that are their for me and despite how much of a dick I can be to them, specifically one of them they’re there for me. Granted the one I’m more of a dick to is also a dick to me too so there’s kind of a balance. But yeah, despite these awesome friends that are my only real friends I keep looking into our every interaction. That one slight twitch of the mouth, the raising of an eyebrow, the words that go unsaid yet seem so blatantly clear while at the same time leaving me oblivious to anyones true feelings. It’s a weird thing, I know it’s nothing speaking from a rational point of view but every time I pick up on those things I fixate on them which isn’t good, it certainly isn’t healthy. Like for example the one time my friend came to school in a bad mood, even though he had arrived with that mood I thought it was something I’d done immediately, something I’d said during the short space of time I had spent with him on that particular day. It’s unrealistic, I can be annoying I know that but within that space of time, I know rationally speaking it wasn’t me but my mind says it is.

And another weird thing, as many people have pointed out I used to be incredibly quiet just last year but now I’m quite loud and outgoing, to the point where I will say things in class, speak up etc yet I get terrified when standing up and talking to the entire class about something I’m passionate about. I was shaking so much and I don’t know why. I know stage fright played into it but if I’m able to speak loudly in class without the fright you’d think maybe I’d be able to speak even for ten seconds without shaking to the point where one might consider it silly. It annoys me so much because I want to be able to be cool and speak, especially in terms of my speech about something I’m incredibly passionate about, well things if I’m being more specific. I know quite a few people probably have the same reaction and I feel for them but it to me just feels like I’m isolated, even when I’m aware of it happening to other people it just feels like one big trap. When it is happening at the time all I can think about is the shakin and that makes it worse and if I look up it gets so much worse, people looking at me, scanning my very movement, every shake through my body tells them that I don’t believe in what I’m saying, either that or that I’m some bumbling idiot that can barely get his words out. Then afterwards people tell me they felt bad for me, even asking me if I was just shivering because it was a little cold and yes that might have played a part but I know that I would have been shaking almost as much if it had just been a warm sunny day because when I look up I see the looks on their faces, imagine the insults and the screaming that could happen. After I finished the speech one of the people told me that I had given them a lot to think about and I know that’s a good thing because that’s what I intended but it just about gave me a panic attack. Even typing this just gracing myself with the memory has me shaking again and I just don’t understand why.

And on top of all this my relationships with people online. Oh boy oh boy. It’s awful, there’s one guy I won’t name I’m completely fine with. He’s told me every time he’s come back that he’s dealing with exams and actively apologises and fuck I appreciate that so much. Him I don’t get anxiety over and he’s so damn important to me but everyone else fucking hell. I get to talking to them and at first it’s amazing, we’re having meaningful conversations and I start getting invested then bam, after maybe two weeks max the conversations start dying down, becoming things as simple as “how are you?” and boring ass answers that end the conversations quite quickly. Granted it is my fault in many ways as it is theirs, it’s not just them of course I let the conversation die too it’s just I start lacking the energy to keep talking to them if all we’re gonna do is have conversations that we’re really only having at this point out of common courtesy. But then I’ll talk about another guy, again I won’t name them, I was talking I would send a fuck ton of messages I was pathetically invested to the point where it was like I was addicted to this person, I idolised them because to me they were so fucking amazing, they were confident, or at least appeared that way to me and they’d say that they were busy and told me they felt bad for not messaging so much. Honestly if you’re reading this I didn’t mind, you could have sent a one word answer and that would have made my day. I don’t know why but it would have. To me there was nothing you could do wrong. Which I guess is what happens when someone becomes an idol. I guess for the most part I’m just upset they stopped answering all together, I get it, they’re busy and have their own lives, I completely understand. Maybe they’re in a bad place but it’s just I would have appreciated a “hey I’m in a bad place right now, I won’t answer for a bit/ever” or even “you annoy the fuck out of me oh my god stop messaging me” because I’ll admit it was probably annoying having me send so many messages and all that but I cared about them, the conversations at the best of times were even still a little one sided and I understand that, I dumped a lot about my life on them on a daily basis and that probably wasn’t the best thing to do but it’s because they were one of the first people that seemed like they really genuinely cared about me back when I was in a bad place. If you’re reading this, I’m not saying any of this to make you feel bad, you’re an amazing person and really I get it, shit happens I just wanted you to know that you were important to me, I might have been annoying and you could have told me about your day if you wanted, maybe at times you felt that was hard to do, especially amongst answering the messages I had sent already but I would have listened. You were important to me, even if I wasn’t so much to you. You’re still an amazing guy I’m sure of that much. But anyway that all kind of made me lose faith a bit because even when I do feel myself getting attached to someone I kind of take a step back, metaphorically speaking of course and feel myself start letting the conversations die because I don’t want to feel them drifting from me when I invest so much into them. I know that makes me a bit awful and hypocritical but I’m trying to work past it and as I said I’m not writing this to guilt trip them, you really did nothing wrong it’s just my mind fucking with me. To the person I mentioned at the start if you read this I want to apologise because you really are truly amazing and honestly I love you but I feel like sometimes I kind of let the conversation drift, if you worry about me losing interest or anything like that I’m not, you really are truly important to me and I’ll keep talking to you as long as you want to keep talking to me. So again if it ever does feel like I’m losing interest, and that goes for anyone that is talking to me, I’m sorry, I promise I’m not it’s just some anxiety stuff mixed up with a whole lotta shit that’s largely my own fault in the first place.

I don’t know exactly why I typed this out, or even why I’m going to post it I just feel like in a way it needs to be seen, a way of opening up I guess. Sorry for ranting. I know all this probably seems silly to a lot of you but it’s how I feel. I think it’s important for me to say that I am trying to work on my flaws and trust me I’m painfully aware of every single one and I understand a lot of the stuff written here is my fault and is my mindset but it’s just how I feel. Again I want to assure the person mentioned when I was talking about them drifting that if they feel bad they really don’t have to. I’m sure they had their reasons and I don’t hold anything against you, and a lot of that was my fault too so I want to apologize for that.

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

The Marvel of Trelsi (Part VIII)

Now it’s time to look at  the romantic potential of Trelsi. As stated in my Introduction, I still have the following questions to answer:

Question- Friendship, Romance or Both? What’s their dynamic? What would attract the both of them? What are their flaws? How would these flaws work together?

Question- Why is Trelsi a superior potential romantic ship to Troyella? (Oh, I’m going to have a field day with THAT one!) Why is Trelsi so poorly appreciated as a potential romantic ship?

On second thoughts, I’m going to flip that round. I think it makes more sense that we understand what’s wrong with canon before discussing the benefits of Trelsi, which is a non-canonical ship. That’s a more objective and honest approach. Once we have a picture of all the problems that present themselves, I can demonstrate how Trelsi is a superior fit. I’ve been planning these posts in my head and on paper for over two weeks now, but with regards to writing Trelsi fiction and the notes I wrote then, this is MONTHS worth of thinking coming to fruition. I’m daunted by the task of exploring the Trelsi romance, and I might well come back to this in a year’s time and find my analysis defective. We shall see. 

Why has it taken eight posts to get to the romance part? I believe in starting from canonical resources; and what we receive in canon is friendship. Second of all, the Trelsi friendship should never be underestimated, and should be appreciated in its own right. Thirdly, for a relationship to make sense, it needs to be built on something more tangible and long-lasting than mere attraction and sexual tension. Once we understand the foundations of Troy and Kelsi’s relationship, that is to say their wonderful friendship, what it means, why it works and why it is important, then this makes for a solid base when considering romance. It also reduces the influence of my bias throughout the series, so the reader can make up their own mind. After all, for many fans, their friendship is so good that it’s just sufficient, and I certainly wouldn’t disagree with them. Fun fact: I was first a platonic shipper of Trelsi before being persuaded by the romantic potential. 

As you know, I go into a LOT of detail. I will reiterate things I have said before; some readers may have seen material in previous posts as leading up to this part. 

Question- So, what’s wrong with the central canonical pairing, Troyella? 

After all, it is by far the more popular ship in the fandom, with the vast majority of fanfiction dedicated to the romance between Troy Bolton and Gabriella Montez. Take a look at the HSM fandom on fanfiction.net to see proof of this. By contrast, if you put in a filter for Trelsi fanfiction, you only get 42 results-- and some of them don’t even feature the Trelsi pairing! Trelsi is, of course, a non-canonical pairing, is considered “unconventional” by many in the fandom (more on that later) and is generally not very much appreciated beyond the scope of friendship; even those who value the friendship barely pay any attention to it when writing, mostly considering Kelsi a device by which to promote Troyella and ignoring her true genius and value to the fandom. Furthermore, the official storyline is compelling enough: East High’s Primo Boy discovers a love for the Performing Arts through a chance meeting with a Pretty Nerd. As I’ve said before, I really wanted to ship Troyella back in the day. What could possibly be wrong?

I’m so glad you’ve asked. :D I’ve liked and disliked my fair share of ships from various fandoms. Some I consider meh. Troyella for me is indisputably one of the worst ships I’ve encountered in a while. Does this contradict my post on Troy Bolton, whom I consider to be my absolute favourite character? Absolutely not; my problem is entirely to do with Gabriella Montez, who was designed as the deuteragonist, and who was supposed to represent good moral values, was supposed to have real passions and understandable conflict, but instead turned out as a monstrosity dressed up in angel’s clothing. It truly beggars belief. So when I ask, “What’s wrong with Troyella?”, what I’m really asking is why is Gabriella such a poor romantic partner for Troy and such a poor representation of the movie. My reasons as follows.

1- Troy and Gabriella do not share a passion for the Performing Arts.

The movie narrative tells us that Troy and Gabriella found common ground in singing/performing. We are to infer from this that such a shared passion is what develops their romance throughout the canonical movies. But in every movie, Gabriella abandons the musical or show due to circumstances that often have very little to do with Theatre. 

Consider the first movie; quite apart from the fact that Troy was (quite obviously) being deceived and exploited by his friends, his outburst should not have led Gabriella to so quickly abandon the Winter Musical. Why? Because out of the two of them, it was Gabriella, who overcame her nerves and ran into the auditorium FIRST, begging for an audition. She did NOT expect Troy to join her-- watch her surprised pleasure when he unwillingly and shyly puts himself forward. Furthermore, Gabriella was crushed when Ms Darbus refused her (them) an audition, and then delighted when Ms Darbus finally granted her (them) a callback. Regardless of how Gabriella felt about Troy ditching her, it seems implausible that she would completely give up on something she had intended to try herself. Remember that this was a HUGE DEAL for Gabriella, who suffers from stage fright (curiously shown only twice in the entire movie series-- in HSM II and III, it’s like she never had it). Remember that she came to the auditions by herself, clearly interested in trying out after all. She wasn’t looking for Troy, or expecting him to accompany her. It doesn’t make sense that she’d go to all this trouble herself and then sing (wail) a whole song about “when there was me and you”. Am I taking things too seriously by expecting some consistency here? 

In HSM II, Gabriella quits because Sharpay banned Employee involvement in Lava Springs’ talent show. I’ve raged about HSM II here (Part 1) and here (Part 2), I’ve even done analysis on Gabriella’s astounding hypocrisy here and then had to get blood pressure meds from my doctor, who’s also treating me for episodes of psychotic rage caused by HSM II and HSM III. Again, SHE begged (manipulated) Ryan into putting in hard work and time for the Show. I know this might be a stretch, but given how Gabriella’s outburst against Sharpay subdued the latter, and assuming a strong intention to continue with the show, Gabriella would have been a true hero of the story had she, and not Troy, persuaded Sharpay to reverse her decision. After all, Mr. Fulton was willing to sidestep Sharpay in admitting the Wildcats to Lava Springs by speaking to Sharpay’s mother. And Sharpay appears not to have the power to revoke her mother’s decisions. If Gabriella REALLY cared about performing, she would have taken action to secure her dream, instead of yelling at Sharpay and then storming off in high dudgeon. Guess who does take action? Troy, who despite being hounded and pushed and manipulated by Sharpay, still has EVERY INTENTION of performing in the Talent Show. As we already know, Gabriella’s return was the result of Kelsi and Ryan’s planning, as well as Taylor having to DRAG her back to reunite with the boy she supposedly loves. 

In the third movie (and if you can stomach my rage, please see Questions for HSM III Part VII and Part VIII for more information), Gabriella quits the musical to attend Stanford’s Freshman Honors Program. Now, like I said in the footnotes for my last Marvel of Trelsi post, this is only the second act showing real initiative from Gabriella in the ENTIRE film franchise. One of the few things I like about Gabriella, aside from her friendship with Taylor-- but that’s mostly because of Taylor!-- is how she takes her studies seriously. Minus the silly giggling when she gets sums/equations correct*, she is absolutely right to pursue her studies, and being in an environment with like-minded people is good for her. The problem is, of course, that PRIOR to this event, Gabriella had insisted that everyone take part in the musical. Forgive me once again for expecting some consistency here, but I assumed this command to involve herself. We later learn that she commanded everyone to participate whilst knowing that she might be accepted for the Freshman Honors Program. She gets accepted and leaves, presumably without letting the entire class know: ([Ms Darbus] “As SOME of you may know, Miss Montez is no longer available to us.”) The capital emphasis is my own. Who are the “some”? I make an educated guess that Taylor most likely knows, and she may have told Chad, maybe Martha. Ms Darbus knows. 

Who’s missing from that list? Her boyfriend, who had no idea she left until, presumably, she stopped showing up for class, cleaned out her locker (when did she get time to do this without being seen?), presumably stopped answering his calls (because it’s only a couple of days later when Mr. Bolton asks whether Troy has heard from Gabriella) and has a “For Sale” sign in front of her house. I have made an assumption that Kelsi was not told (see footnote number 1 on this hyperlink), simply on the basis of Gabriella’s penchant for quitting abruptly when things aren’t going her way, leaving others to pick up the pieces. I assume Ryan wasn’t told, as Gabriella only interacts with him when he’s putting in work on her behalf. Later on, Gabriella dumps Troy over the phone and decides she isn’t turning up to prom, THE MUSICAL or graduation despite having promised to do so. A Gabriella Montez who was PASSIONATE about performing would have 1)- said that everyone should do the musical, 2)- but pointed out that she might not be there the entire time thanks to Stanford’s Freshman Honors Program, 3)- given everyone advance notice of her departure, 4)- let Ms Darbus know that she would still return to perform, so that Ms Darbus didn’t have to stay up after school hours rebalancing her play instead of working on other things teachers have to do, 5)- kept in regular contact with Troy and asked him about the musical (instead, she discussed the geniuses at Stanford and the food), 6)- scheduled her flight back to Albuquerque to perform in said musical. 

The real Gabriella Montez does none of these things. 

So what does this imply? If we look at Troy by contrast, who bends over backwards to try and keep everyone happy, despite being initially UNWILLING in EVERY movie to perform, to the point of sacrificing his own sleep, comfort and safety just to pull off every show, we see the following actions: 1)- match interference in HSM I, 2)- giving Sharpay an ultimatum to allow Employee involvement in HSM II, 3)- the worst of them all, driving 1 053 miles to bring Gabriella back so he can perform in HSM III. Every time, Troy is willing to put himself on the line to pursue his passion. Gabriella, by contrast, is not. Despite the increasing hurdles that Troy faces from friends and foes alike, he NEVER gives up. Once he’s made a promise, he keeps it, which is why he agreed to sing with Sharpay after all, despite all her atrocious behaviour towards him. By contrast, Gabriella quits based on behaviour that is nowhere near as inconvenient and destructive as that shown to Troy-- more importantly, based on behaviour that is nowhere near as atrocious as her own. I was rewatching some of HSM II yesterday, and Troy’s face when he thinks Gabriella is more interested in Ryan just reminds you of how cruel she can be. More on that later. The bottom line is, that the Troyella relationship was supposed to be grounded in a shared passion for performing, but we clearly have an imbalance; Troy’s commitment is complete. Gabriella’s is heavily conditional. 

Remember that Troy decides to pursue Theatre after graduating. Gabriella does not. Had Theatre been a part of Gabriella’s identity as it is for Troy, then she would have incorporated it into her future somehow. So if their performances together are continually jeopardized by Gabriella’s whimsical refusals to participate unless tempted with undue credit and silly waltzing, and if only one of them can foresee a future in which they pursue the Performing Arts DESPITE the fact that we’re supposed to view their relationship as being built upon this shared interest, then the case for Troyella is based on sand. 

2- Outside of music, Troy and Gabriella have almost nothing in common.

Gabriella doesn’t understand Troy’s love of trees. “And what is it with you and trees?”, she asks him as though speaking to a kid. Bear in mind that they’ve been dating for ALL of Junior Year, all the summer and presumably all of the Winter semester. She doesn’t understand why he likes to hide away from the world, even though, by all accounts, she should. “So, another top-secret hiding place?” She doesn’t understand his sense of humour, sometimes even taking offence to harmless/sarcastic comments: (HSM I) [Troy] “By the way, I missed practice, so if I get kicked off the team, it should be on your conscience.” [Gabriella] “Hey, I wasn’t the one who told you to--”, before Troy tells her it’s a joke. In HSM III: [Troy- treehouse] “You’re the second girl I’ve ever had up here.” [Gabriella glares at him and gives him an aggressive nudge], [Troy] “The first was my mom!”. When Troy tries to show her a golf course in HSM II, she tells him “I don’t play golf”, which is harmless enough. But given that she should have known by then that her boyfriend was on the school’s Golf Team, it would have reflected better on their relationship had Gabriella taken an interest in his golfing, whether she liked it or not. Particularly since Gabriella was later bitter that Troy didn’t ask HER opinion on the much-derided “Italian golf shoes”. If she doesn’t play golf, why does she care? 

To be fair, Gabriella clearly enjoys shooting hoops with Troy. In fact, I still like that scene in HSM I, minus her inability to take a joke and her once again rubbing her academic brilliance in his face: “...In the same day, I invented the space shuttle and microwave popcorn...” I know this was supposed to come off as funny, but it was bordering on obnoxious for me, particularly if you view this in conjunction with all of Gabriella’s other objectionable behaviour. Gabriella clearly likes basketball, so that’s something they share in common. She comes to support Troy for his games, shows sympathy when the game in HSM III wasn’t going well, and is supportive and even genuinely affectionate when he wins. In HSM II, she does like baseball, even criticizing Troy for forgetting to come! And Gabriella does appreciate Troy showing her his hideouts (HSM III- “Well, I’m honoured. This place is so cool.”), because they remind her of kindergarten.** We can assume that they shared the rooftop hideout many times, that Troy often came round Gabriella’s house in the evening with pizza, and that they liked using that swing/hammock thing in her garden. So clearly, Gabriella is willing to spend time with Troy. Furthermore, Troy DOES  propose some activities which he and Gabriella could do: “we could go the movies, download music-- oh, and I’m definitely teaching you a twisted flip on the skateboard.” Obviously, they would go on dates; I’m assuming from HSM II and III that they would watch movies and/or eat pizza and chocolate-covered strawberries.

However, given the gulf between them in what is supposed to represent their primary interest, I don’t get the impression that even shooting hoops, dates or skateboarding mean they have a lot in common, either. They certainly don’t have anything in common that they don’t share with anyone else. After all, Gabriella is friends with Chad, Jason, Zeke and the rest of the East High basketball team. And since Troy had the audacity to break down social walls in East High, we’re told the skater dudes like talking to the basketball/cool people, so it’s not like she was missing out. In fact, when Troy proposed skateboarding, she quickly assumed she would fail at it, joking about her First Aid practice to “patch myself up afterwards!” Do they have a similar taste in movies and music? Maybe. It wouldn’t really make a difference. Couples do have differences in their tastes and hobbies, but 1)- they do make an attempt to take an interest in each other’s tastes and hobbies, 2)- they do have very strong things in common that go beyond everyday activities-- things like shared values, shared passions and shared outlooks. Troy and Gabriella don’t have any of these. I don’t get the impression that Gabriella understands Troy as a person, and so considers many of his interests weird. Despite loving kindergarten, she teases Troy for having a “pirate’s wheel”, a robot and a Batman/Superman cloak in his treehouse, despite having called the place “so cool” not moments beforehand! 

The biggest indicator that they have little in common is the stilted and awkward nature of their conversations. It seems the formula for a good Troyella conversation includes: 1)- Gabriella whinging about things that aren’t actually problems, 2)- Troy encouraging/flattering Gabriella, 3)- Troy discussing his problems, 4)- Gabriella taking brief note of his own issues, then reverting the conversation back to herself repeatedly, 5)- Troy making one of his dorky jokes, 6)- Gabriella indulging this with a condescending giggle, 7)- Troy trying to reason with Gabriella and failing miserably. A proper conversation is reciprocal, covers a wide range of subject matter and when considering a novel or play, adds or reveals something about each character. I don’t feel any sense of progression or evolution as a result of Troy and Gabriella’s conversations, because they are largely oriented around Gabriella and often involve her refusing to see any point of view other than her own. Here are just some examples:

HSM II

[Troy] “It’s been wild, you know? I can’t believe how things are working out here!”

What Gabriella COULD have said: “I understand,” or “Can I come watch your game?”.

What Gabriella ACTUALLY said: “So I see. Italian golf shoes, new clothes, golf carts. It’s crazy stuff-- hard to keep track of, I bet.”

HSM III

[Troy] “I haven’t told anyone this, but I’ve had offers from other colleges. I’m really listening.”

What Gabriella COULD have said: “Wow, that’s great! Which colleges? Are you still thinking about Juilliard?...”***

What Gabriella ACTUALLY said: “I get it, Troy. I still have decisions to make too.” This is AFTER he told her that she was fortunate enough to have chosen Stanford. (And he’s so lovely and too damn forgiving that he doesn’t ask her why she laughed at him for potentially getting into Juilliard). 

If Gabriella can’t even listen to Troy’s point of view, engage with his concerns and discuss things other than herself, then clearly they have very little in common. It all starts mentally; once a couple are mentally in sync, then they find common interests physically. 

We will discuss more in upcoming posts. Don’t worry, I will discuss Trelsi in due course! :D 

TO BE CONTINUED

(*FOOTNOTE-- I can sympathise with Gabriella feeling isolated by being seen as the “freaky math girl”. But might that have anything to do with her obnoxiously smug giggles whenever she gets a sum right? Remember in HSM I: “shouldn’t the second equation read sixteen over pi?” I completely agree with Sharpay rolling her eyes there; Gabriella’s smile has an “I’m so clever” vibe about it. Don’t get me wrong; I am fully supportive of Gabriella’s academic brilliance. I sometimes got teased for being good at some subjects in schools. But REAL nerds don’t behave like this. We might be pleased at being proved right about something, but we don’t start grinning as though we’ve solved the Middle East crisis. I guess this is a far lesser gripe about Gabriella, though). 

(**FOOTNOTE-- Did Gabriella lose her father whilst she was either in kindergarten, or not long after? Her continuous emotional attachment to this time explains her carefree attitude, nostalgia and even her immaturity. Or perhaps, she was just beginning to make friends in kindergarten and then had to move shortly afterwards, thus losing any potential of building a long lasting friendship, such as she has with Taylor. Certainly, some of Gabriella’s behaviour suggests an attachment to childhood innocence and freedom; she runs in corridors, runs in a SCIENCE LAB (which every good scientist knows NOT to do), loves playing/dancing in the rain. Like a child, she only thinks of herself and her needs/wants. She expects everything to be perfect for her and throws childish tantrums when things don’t go her way. I’m not being mean here-- just stating facts. These are just some interesting observations about Gabriella that could have been explored). 

(***FOOTNOTE-- It was disgraceful for Chad to laugh at Troy for getting accepted to Juilliard. However, I must give him credit for at least taking an interest or recognizing this as a possibility in Troy’s future later when they go to the junkyard. (By the way, it appears they didn’t lock up, like they were told). I know that Chad’s response was dismissive, but hey-- at least he tried. He has his ways of being a good friend, even if he says insensitive or selfish or mean things along the way. Even though Gabriella says, “I get it, Troy”, in a way that was intended to be sympathetic, but almost came across as impatient, she NEVER asks Troy about Juilliard again in the entire movie. She just looks at him during the graduation ceremony when he might be chosen for the scholarship. There are two key opportunities when she could have done so. 1)- you will notice the Juilliard booklet sitting near the windshield of Troy’s truck; when Troy’s truck came to a shuddering halt, they didn’t appear to be engaged in any conversation. Given that they had just come back from school, Gabriella could have asked him about his thoughts on Juilliard. Instead, she laughed at his truck after she had just gotten a free ride home. 2)- When they are in her garden, she could have made enquiries about Juilliard and his thoughts, given that the subject was their respective futures, AND that not long beforehand, Gabriella had insisted that he admit to his love for performing! “Why is that SO HARD for you to admit?” she said. But later on, she turns the conversation back to her and Stanford, instead of being consistent and encouraging the possibility of him attending Juilliard!)

[candycrushcopeland]

Resident Evil 7 Review: ‘Resident Evil 7 is the best in the series, despite its perplexing flaws’

What makes a game scary? The ever-stalking, ever-watchful presence every player fears: Death. A reminder of our inept failure, sending players back in time to reattempt a section that now has the upper hand. Death is an all-powerful, unforgiving punishment; one we’re hardcoded to avoid at all costs.

Resident Evil VII: biohazard understands fear. Not only fear, but the need to create a landscape which personifies potential death. The world is presented through a mostly chocolate colour palette – drab and slightly off. A real focus has been put on the lighting of each section. Hallways illuminate just enough to see where everything is while still feeling unnatural. Abandoned oil lamps litter the ground, offering a comfort to an otherwise morbid backdrop. One section in particular has the player venture outside into the darkness. It’s here where you truly start to appreciate how beautifully-ugly Resident Evil VII really is, and how important lighting is to the journey.

 At the centre of Resident Evil VII is a story about a husband, Ethan Winters, in search of his lost wife Mia, who disappeared without a trace years earlier. That is, until Ethan receives a video from Mia forbidding him from coming to find her.

 Ignoring Mia’s warning, Ethan travels to Dulvey, Louisiana, where he finds a dilapidated house.  Upon entering said house, Ethan soon succumbs to the realisation he’s trapped, and at the will of the psychotic Baker Family, each of whom play a specific – albeit warped – family role. Daddy Jack fulfils the duty of patriarchal leader of the group; Mommy Marguerite is an over-nurturing mother, obsessed with all things family; Brother Jack is the kind who pulls legs off insects then burns their bodies with a magnifying glass; and Sister Eveline is the resident creepy little girl, because no horror story is complete without a creepy little girl.

Serving as a backdrop to the story is an exquisite semi-realistic setting in which you won’t be able to tell if photographs are real people or designed on a computer. While the gorgeous setting helps with immersion, there are several components that pull you out of it. Ethan very rarely reacts correctly to what’s happening on-screen. Imagine stubbing your toe on a door. You might shout, you might curse, but if it were Ethan who stubbed his toe, he’d respond like an even less charismatic Mr. Robot. At impactful scenes Ethan sounds dead inside, making the section feel much less than it should. The player feels the horror, but to Ethan this whole charade is a chore. He’d rather be at home watching football.

 It’s hard to gauge whether Ethan’s performance is down to a lack of direction or the voice actor in question. Either way, it’s not good, and will pull you out of the scene.

 There’s also the case of Mia. Her hair acts like a confused octopus flailing for help and her lip syncing is downright dreadful. Her gob gapes wider than humanly possible whenever she speaks, and you’re left worrying if you trip over you could fall right on in there. Death by swallowing. Not the best look when the narrative is fighting ruthlessly to keep you scared.

 And yet, Resident Evil VII gets a lot right when it comes to weaving a worthwhile narrative. One video tape found within the mansion sees Derek Acorah-type ghost hunters head into the house in search of a new fabricated tale to sell to gullible viewers. The characters in the tape are either unlikeable or forgettable, but that’s intended. What’s important during the scene is that it shows the player the horrors held within. Showing, rather than telling, will always generate a stronger emotional response. The player knows they need to go where Acorah and co. went, but now know it’s sure to lead to demise. And thus, fear is born.

 It’s worth mentioning at this point, Resident Evil 7 isn’t a reboot, nor is it a fully-realised AAA PT takeoff. Resident Evil VII is a Resident Evil game from start to finish, for better or worse. When you’re not running in terror, you’ll be solving puzzles. These range from finding keys to doors, finding ways to open new areas, or maneuvering a statue within a projector’s light to create a shadow on a painting. And, of course, there’s the meta minigame of managing your inventory. Should you carry those herbs but abandon another pack of ammunition? How many healing items do you really need? 

The puzzle-centric nature of Resident Evil VII extends into boss fights, which are (with the exception of one) wholly satisfying. Each scuffle has a hidden tactic, a way to get one over on your foe, and in a stroke of design genius, dying actually offers up a hint as to how to beat the boss for those willing to look deep enough.

 The exception? The final boss fight.

 The first two acts are near-faultless and the first six hours justify the cost of admission. But then, act three kicks in, and the game barely holds it together.

 By act three, all the tension, all the fear, has diluted. Even with less of an arsenal the player becomes too confident for any of the roaming horrors to ever be anything more than fodder; a walking annoyance to be avoided. The problem is confounded by the fact act three is a no more than a walkabout. All you do is run from point A to point B then back to point A then back to point B again in search of items. Nothing of value is added to the experience. Plus, in a baffling twist, you’re given a vastly overpowered gun. Are we back in Res 6? Is Resident Evil a game about shooting oddities? Has Capcom learned anything?

 It’s as though Capcom had a really, really strong six-hour game then someone decided it needed to go to eight or 10 hours. The story conclusion in act three is fascinating, but the two-to-four hours extra the final sections add is painfully dull and repetitive. For a game that literally has you jumping at your own shadow, boring isn’t how you want it to end.

 Worse still is the final boss fight, which attempts to be an epic finish but is all teeth and no bite. There’s no skill, no thought, just trigger-pulling. Then comes the ending, which just doesn’t fit with the past eight hours.

 Act one and two are comparable with the first Resident Evil, while act three is closer to Operation Raccoon City. A shame, then, such a mighty behemoth would repeatedly stumble over the same shortcomings time and time again. Especially considering just how frightful and gripping the majority of the game is.

Conclusion

Resident Evil VII is the best in the series, despite its perplexing flaws. The unrelenting fear is second to none. The Baker Family, always stalking and taunting the player, are a fantastic addition. The deliberately obtuse controls are a way of making the game harder to play without feeling cheap. The stunning, grimy backdrops are easy to get lost in. Resident Evil VII is a must for fans of the series and horror fans alike and reignites the series in a meaningful-yet-familiar way. Fear is Resident Evil VII’s calling card, but after a quick shuffle, fear turns to tedium. Sometimes six hours is more than enough.

Score: The best 7/10 you’ll play all year.

Not tested: PlayStation VR functionality.

Note: All screenshots come via GamesPress, so while Res VII does look great on a standard PS4, it doesn’t look anywhere near as crisp as the early promotional material would have you believe.