#i just think of jacob fighting with God as being the method that God used to rip satan out of him

[just-bible-musings]

*sigh* I get so sick to death of this worldly viewpoint that we manufacture our own thoughts and feelings. WE DON'T. Where do you think your "personal insecurities" came from? You think you just woke up one day and decided, "oh, I'm just gonna think of myself as a piece of crap"? No, you did not. Someone told that to you. And where did they get it from? Someone told it to them. All the way back to Adam and Eve. Satan tempted Eve with the fruit, and guilt seeped in because Adam and Eve knew they disobeyed God. And they continued disobeying God by not ever once saying, "yeah, I screwed up."

Satan has ALWAYS been whispering to us and telling us to sin, and then turning right around and telling us how bad we are because we do.

As for "why did God tolerate it," because He wants to fight the demons for us! It's because He doesn't want us to just "release our emotions" or whatever other worldly, New Agey, psychological bull you wanna try to spit out, like every other Christian out there does these days. It's because we're in a spiritual WAR. He wants to take our demons, rip them out of us, patch us up, clean us up, and wipe away our tears before He sends us back out into the world to do His work. But He can't- or rather, He won't try to- do that as long as we still hold onto them. Because He can do anything, but as long as we keep inviting Satan in, there's no sense in Him wasting His time.

And understand, I'm not saying "the devil made me do it" or any such nonsense. Satan suggests things, but he doesn't MAKE anyone do anything, any more than God does. We ALL have the power to choose, and we are all guilty of sin when we choose wrong. It doesn't matter who came up with the idea, what matters is whether or not we acted on it.

And I will admit: I, myself, am not entirely convinced that I'm not giving Satan too much credit for all my nasty thoughts and feelings. It may be that I am. But not because I'm trying to escape the responsibility of my own sin. My concern is that there's a flip side to this that IS 100% percent unbiblical: if we are capable of manufacturing our own thoughts and feelings, then aren't we capable of manufacturing good ones, as well? And the Bible makes it clear that, NO, we are NOT. I still remember how disgusted I was when my Sunday school teacher walked in one day and said, "You know, I've always thought people are basically good, but I just read in 1 John where it says we're not!" And all I could think was, You've been in ministry for 20+ years, you're the associate pastor, and you're teaching an adult Sunday school class, and you seriously bought into this Satanic worldview that people can be good without God?

(BTW, I didn't go to Sunday school more than a couple times after that.)

Personally, I don't believe in "original thoughts." I don't believe we can make up thoughts in our own minds. Like I said, I know the Bible specifically says that our minds don't create any good thoughts:

Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these; Adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness,  Idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies,  Envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like: of the which I tell you before, as I have also told you in time past, that they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God.  But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law. Galatians 5:22-23

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it? Jeremiah 17:9

Maybe it's just that I find it comforting to believe that Satan is giving me all my bad thoughts and that I'm not making them up myself. Maybe I just want to believe that humanity- and I, myself- is just as incapable of being evil on our own as we are of being good on our own. God forgive me if that's all it is.

But I have to wonder, if the mind is capable of creating its own fears and insecurities and negativity, then why did Adam and Eve have NONE of these until Satan told them to sin? Furthermore, the Bible calls Satan "the accuser." If it's not Satan telling us "you're a bad person, you'll never amount to anything, you should have never been born," then why does reciting Bible verses at him work so well? Why does saying "I'm a child of God and I'm forgiven and redeemed by the blood of Jesus" rebuke all those negative thoughts and insecurities and make them flee?

And don't try to answer that question with some psychological bull-oney about "rewiring the circuitry of our brains." Like, yes, that's exactly what happens, but do you even know why? Don't you think it's possible that all the psychological things we witness are nothing but our observing the effects of supernatural warfare on the physical world? Do you think the supernatural does not have an effect on the physical? If you claim to believe that God spoke the universe into existence, why would you not believe that the spiritual warfare going on all around us every second of every day would not have some noticeable, measurable affect on the physical world that we can see and touch?

You know what I think? I think people buy into "psychology" and whatnot because it's comforting. If our insecurities come from our own minds and not from Satan, then that means we're in control. We're totally out of control, but we feel more in control. We don't want to accept the truth of the Bible that we're really never anything more than someone's servant, whether a servant of Satan, or a servant of God. It seems to be easier, for Christians, at least, to say that their good thoughts are from God, than to say that their bad thoughts are from Satan. Like, Christians can accept that "oh, I want to cheat on my wife" is a temptation from Satan. But it's a lot less often that I see Christians say that "oh, I'm a failure" is a thought from Satan. It's always "psychological," "our own insecurities," just like sword said above.

Fear, sinful anger, rage, insecurity- these are all Satanic thoughts and feelings. At least, I firmly believe they are. If you think you can convince me differently, you better come at me with Bible verses to prove it, not some crap you got from a therapist or a self-help book.

Oh, honey. I don't think you understand what "wrestling with God" really amounts to. What do you think drove Jacob to do it? Fear and anger. A lifetime of either cheating or working his butt off trying to get his blessing when everyone and everything around him was determined to keep him from it. And it got him nowhere. Sure, he had 2 wives and 2 concubines, 13 kids (and possibly more daughters that we didn't hear about), and more livestock than you could shake a stick at, but he still didn't have what he felt God had planned for him. Granted, this is because he wasn't truly even trying to follow God until the night of the wrestling match; but the point is that he knew God had better for him and he couldn't understand why he didn't have it. And he was mad. And he was convinced that his own twin brother was gonna kill him the next day, without him ever seeing his promises fulfilled. So God came to him and gave him a chance to fight out all his frustrations and fears and anger.

And where do you think all that comes from? From Satan. He plants fear and anger and temptation in our hearts, and we nurture it and let it grow. It grows out of control and consumes us. The demons that whisper to us "you're a pile of garbage," "you'll never amount to anything," "why are you even alive? why were you even born? why do you exist?", we can't fight them ourselves. If we harbor them inside us, they make us bitter and angry. God wants to remove them from us, but they won't let go so easily. When Jesus exorcised demons out of people, the demons would usually scream and throw the people around and make them tear at their skin and hair as the demons left. No different when you give your demons to God. They come out in fighting, in tears, in all kinds of ways that most people think is blasphemous.

I had a very bad life up until a few years ago, and believe me, you would be shocked to hear some of the things I've said to God in prayer. You'd probably call it sinful and blasphemous. But you wanna know what's happened? In the four years since I left my hellish past life behind, I've finally grown and figured out at least some of who God made me to be.

The sin is not in fighting with God when you give Him your demons. The sin is in harboring them inside yourself in the first place.

Idk. Don't "oh honey" me. It's patronizing. I can follow everything you're saying about Jacob's life, but I lost you when you started talking about demons whispering to people. That stuff isn't literal demons, it's personal insecurities. This all feels very charismatic.

Actually, I lost you a little earlier. Why does Jacob need to fight God? Yes, I realize there must be a reason why that happened, but why does God tolerate it? Surely there must be a greater significance than a mere "emotional release" or he could have just punched a tree or something.

Anyway, you didn't really answer my question of WHY it wasn't a sin, and I'm not convinced you WEREN'T blasphemous.

Are there any non-charismatics who want to explain the story to me

[the-firebird69]

Thus Jacob says: "I, Jacob, who speak to you, I am also Israel, I am an angel of God, a ruling spirit, and Abraham and Isaac were created before every work of God; and I am Jacob, called Jacob by men, but my name is Israel, called Israel by God, a man seeing God, because I am the first-born of every creature which God caused to live.

And he adds: "When I was coming from Mesopotamia of Syria, Uriel, the angel of God, came forth, and said, I have come down to the earth and made my dwelling among men, and I am called Jacob by name. He was angry with me and fought with me and wrestled against me, saying that his name and the name of Him who is before every angel should be before my name. And I told him his name and how great he was among the sons of God;

Are you not Uriel my eighth, and I am Israel and archangel of the power of the Lord and a chief captain among the sons of God? Am not I Israel, the first minister in the sight of God, and I invoked my God by the inextinguishable name?"[6]

..

Jacob is not Trump or his clone or son and it's not woody. But it does sound like a rider.

...

My husband is falling asleep trying to do this and he got to do some nice sleep he is oxygenating and you can't tell I can tell because of certain skin tone and he says okay and it's true this is a story that we want to get out about Jacob and Jacob's ladder and it does explain what Max are up to and he did get it there's only a couple of points throughout the stories of his life and his statements. He went through life and he got four wives and had children and someone said this child of yours Joseph does not survive then you are not from the house of God and Jacob refused him and went on as if his son survived and didn't know if he was dead or not and he began telling people did he is the son of God and he was made from nothing and that he has been the father of everyone that's what the max wanted him to do by telling him this about his son they do drive people nuts with that so Jacob made a statement and it's the above statement and a few others that were not so long. The story is about his strange experiences and he is a vastly delusional person and he had an experience with a winged person and they call themselves angels and they're delusional as hell some of them know what they're saying and they know it's not true people are wondering what this has to do with the max and it's simply put that the man might understand his position and he's running around trying to convince people that he is God and that he controls everything and that he's invincible and these people are here sons and he's doing he keeps telling them and saying what it is and they don't believe him and he wrestles with him and tries to use Force and this is the idea that the max have not wrestling with us and foreigners are avoiding it and the max are calling for it. It's a method of kidnapping and these idiots have been running around yelling at people and we can just sit there and her son sits there with millions of people doing it.

That's my take on it and my husband says I'm right

Hera

The details of his life explain it as well because he is an adulterer and he's taking over someone else's house and that's what the max are I'm thinking over several houses and their wives and they're making a bunch of clothes with them fights with an Angel and I'm saying that it's kind of a real one or it's not and that's what they're saying and the angel of the pizza many times proving that he is real and they also looking for that

Thor Freya

Inside the several movies and some people got it and they're trying to do it and they suck real bad and they get beat by regular people so trying to see the max to it and they're trying to watch what happens but the max don't have that plan they have a different way of doing it and they're seeing it happen and they can't believe it they're being pushed out of the entire plan

Nuada Arrianna

Olympus

[tsukikoindreamsmp]

Dream SMP, But Make It Hardcore

Aka. What if you only have one canon live

This is written before 30 Days SMP, I know there’s no connection with DSMP but just in case XD

Before we start, we need to lay down several rule.

There should be at least one player death for each war/arc, with possible some exception.

In this au, there are majority two ways to cheat death: using the totem of undying and the resurrection book. Totem of undying can only be used if the victim is holding it when they on the brink of death. The resurrection book can only be used with equivalent exchange: a life for a life. Any methods outside of this won't be acknowledged temporarily. Except one that we’ll discuss later.

Thirdly, the existence of ghost. As far as I knew, the only ghost characters are Ghostbur, Glatt, and Mexican Dream. All of them are formerly death people. But so far, at least from what I know, there is no actual reasoning of how the three of them came to be. So, temporarily, we will pretend ghost doesn't exist.

Fourthly, if the characters have crucial role in the Arc, the role will be passed on to someone else. This is still in the juggling process, so there will be possible contradictions.

Lastly, I'm not versatile in Dream SMP lore. I only join after Tommy resurrection, but I have a vague knowledge of the previous season. Even so, I haven't watch all the POV, so I might mot know which canon death is important and which is not. I'll try my best and follow the wiki, you any of you can argue with me. I'm open for discussion.

Now with that out of the way, let's begin the body count.

Acknowledged Death

Fundy

Cause of Death: The Final Control Room

There is no denying that Eret’s Final Control Room is one of the most iconic scene in all of Dream SMP, thus any death that happens here would have bigger meaning: they died because of a betrayal, they died fighting for the independence of their beloved country. If they die here, they die as a revolutionary hero.

However, if we look in the L’Manburg gang, everyone has importance in future role: Wilbur with the Season 1 finale, Tommy with the Season 2 finale, Tubbo with the Manberg Festivavl, Eret with the Final Control Room, Fundy with the Schlatt Administration. But, if we hae to choose one, unfortunately, we have to choose Fundy. Wilbur and Tubbo has bigger role in the narrative of Season 1 and Tommy is the central character throught Season 1 and 2. However, knowing the future and Quackity lore, we don't know how far Fundy would go in depth. So we'll put a pin on this.

Tubbo

Cause of Death: Manberg Festival Execution

Canonically speaking, so far, Tubbo has lost two canon life: in the Final Control Room to Sapnap and the Manberg Festival Execution to Technoblade. Both events are crucial in the DSMP lore however I chose the execution because it kick-started the Manberg vs Pogtopia War even further. Tubbo’s death leads Nikki and many others to join Pogtopia and Tommy vs Techno Duel at Pogtopia. Unlike Techno, Tubbo doesn’t have the Totem of Undying, thus his execution is inevitable.

However, as we know, Tubbo’s role at the end of Season 1 and beyond is important. He’s the president of L’Manberg, he exiles Tommy, the Butcher Army, and the Disc Confrontation. If he dies very early in the story, many plot will be lost. So, temporarily, unless by divine intervention his execution is stopped, his lore will be given to Lani or Ranboo.

JSchlatt

Cause of Death: Heart attack at the the end of Manberg vs Pogtopia War

This is probably the first ever canon permanent death, so we had to put in here. Schlatt other two death are during the Manberg Festival, having caught in Technoblade fireworks, and Quackity assassination at The White House. Since we already have Tubbo’s death during the Manberg Festival, that only leave with Quackity assasination and his heart attack. But, considering his heart attack death ends the Manberg vs Pogtopia War, I choose this. I’m sure anyone would agree in this.

My only worry is the potential of Schlatt’s resurrection by Quackity. In rule two, you need one soul to resurrect another. Who would Quackity kill to resurrect Schlatt?

Mexican Dream

Cause of Death: Killed by Dream during Exile Arc

Poor Mexican Dream. The best character always die too early. But, according to this wonderful analysis video, Mexican Dream is very crucial to Tommy descend to depression during the Exile Arc. With Mexican Dream being the few people who visit Tommy during exile, his presence becomes quite importance to Tommy. Which is why when Mexican Dream dies, Tommy is left with no one else (but Dream) which leads him down a harsher path to depression and suicide. 

Tommy

Cause of Death: Killed by Dream in the prison

We know that Tommy is the main character throughout Season 1 and 2, so why is he chosen for death? One reason: Wilbur’s resurrection.

All of Tommy’s death are actually important in the history of Dream SMP, but as we know, his role in Season 1 and 2 are too important that I can’t think of anyone else who can replace him. His death in the prison is a shocking moment and I’m pretty sure everyone remembers that. The main character is killed by the antagonist. Tragic isn’t it? And going back to Point 2, with Tommy’s death, Dream can resurrect Wilbur for whatever he’s planning for the future.  A soul for a soul; Tommy death’s for Wilbur’s resurrection.

Antfrost

Cause of Death: Killed by Puffy during the Red Banquet

The Red Banquet is once again a staple event on the server. Even if it’s count as a side-arc, we can’t ignore any awesome moments surrounding this event (plus, nearly all characters that Quackity recruit in Las Nevadas Arc were invited to the Red Banquet). Thus, any death happening here will effected the Eggpire gang and the guest invited there. Back then, Antfront was the one suggesting that Foolish should be sacrifice first, which made him being a bigger target for Puffy and for her to gain revenge for the death of her son. Plus, Bad mentioned that the egg required energy gained from death to hatch, thus Antfrost (and Foolish) death will fed the egg more... 

Survived

Quackity

Currently, we have Las Nevadas Arc with Quackity as the central characters, this there is no doubt that Quakcity is an important character. Heck, even before this, his role is very crucial in history. He challenged Wilbur in the election, becoming the vice president of Manberg and New L’Manberg, conducting the Butcher Army, and in Dream’s imprisonment.

Quackity has one canon death: his duel with Technoblade (the one death on the Manberg Festival by Technoblade has been retconned). So, knowing the imortance of his role in future Las Nevadas Arc, he didn’t die after the battle with Technoblade.

Jack Manifold

Jack Manifold probably had the most unfortunate deaths of all. He was killed by Wilbur because the dude just felt like it. He was killed by Tommy because he was too surprise. And he was killed by Techno during Doomsday. He’s like the SBI kids personal victim.

Now, out of all the death he suffered, I can only count his death to Techno to be the most crucial. However, Jack and Techno doesn’t have that strong relationship except Jack thinking Techno was an enemy because of Doomsday. Heck, even Jack isn’t written in Techno’s relationship list. Thus, I can’t make Jack to have a battle to the death with Techno. Compare this to Quackity vs Techno which already lit up during the Butcher Army incident, thus making Quackity vs Techno much stronger than Jack vs Techno.

Dream

Skeppy-BadBoyHalo

Originally I was going to count this as a canon death. However, their death happened before the Red Banquet, which was a bigger event. But I won’t deny that Skeppy and Bad’s fight is heart-wrenching in a way. Both of them are very close and it’s just sad to see them had a big fight like this. You can blame the Egg for messing with their head, but it lead to Skeppy’s death and Bad soon followed. You can’t deny how Bad and Skeppy’s lives are connected is quite cute.

Because both of them are the main players of the Eggpire Arc, we need to keep them alive until the end of the arc.

Cheated Death

Karl Jacobs

Origin Cause of Death: Manberg vs Pogtopia War

Method of Cheating Death: Time travel power awakening

Karl is an interesting character regarding the lore in Tales of the SMP. It had been confirm that Karl is a time traveler, however I don’t think we actually know when he got that power. Thus, if we want to incorporate this in lore we can take his death in canon and make it he could time travel for the first time, only returning when the war is over or before he was killed to avoid it. So, this is the only resurrections outside the usual methods I’m willing to acknowledge. 

Technoblade

Origin Cause of Death: Butcher Army excecution

Method of Cheating Death: Holding the Totem of Undying

Canon, this is the first canon cheated death in the series so I’m keeping this, there’s no really a further connection. The execution, along with the whole Butcher Army is the start of Quackity Villain Arc, Tubbo descend into mirroring Schlatt, Bedrocks Duo, thus marking this moment as an important staple. Also, SAD-ist Hog Hunt, my beloved. But also, Technoblade is possibly the strongest member on the DSMP, seeing that even the strongest need to cheat to avoid death is interesting.

Foolish Gamers

Origin Cause of Death: The Red Banquet Sacrifice

Method of Cheating Death: The embodiment of Totem of Undying

Foolish is a god, the embodiment of the Totem of Undying, thus he has a personal connection with cheating death and resurrection. Same case with Technoblade but with more sinister condition. Even a god like Foolish can’t escape death and need to cheat to survive. But also, his death only fueled the Egg into hatching, which wouldn’t be good in the long run.

Wilbur Soot

Origin Cause of Death: Season 1 Finale

Method of Cheating Death: Resurrected by Dream with Tommy’s soul in exchange

Wilbur’s death is definitely an iconic moment considering this is the peak of his madness. The only problem is the existence of Ghostbur. Going back to Point 3 of ghost doesn’t exist, this would means Ghostbur doesn’t exist in this au. Which leads to Point 2 where you need a soul to resurrect another soul. If Ghostbur doesn’t exist, then who should Dream kills to resurrect Wilbur? Dream had only ever kill one person, and that’s Tommy. A soul for a soul; Tommy death’s for Wilbur’s resurrection.

[readingwithlemons]

The Training Scene

 Edited 8-21-21

Prompt Scene to the Series: Rising Sun

Description: Y/N and Jasper are in charge of training both the other Cullens and Uley Pack, how to fight an army of Newborns. Still on touchy ground, Paul realizes the cruel severity of his imprint previous life and the rest of the pack seem to gain more respect for the tiny leech.

Word count:1902

DISCLAIMER: I USED SOME OF THE DIALOGUE WRITTEN BY MEYER IN THIS PROMPT. I USED THEM AS A WAY TO FIX MY STORY IN WITH HER STORY MORE FLUIDLY.

Warnings: physical fighting, foul language, talk of death

a/n: Paul and the rest of the pack will be wolf form for most of this scene anything in Bold will be the conversation between the pack.

I avoided looking at anyone in the pack as they walked through the tree line. While my family gawked and stared at the large pack, I stood tensed, swallowing the pings and pangs of guilt I felt for not sharing this detail with my family. However this wasn't my information to give them.

Trying to refocus my thoughts towards helping Jasper with plans of training. It became hard to drift from the grey-silver wolf that held my shattered heart in his hands. Anger and Embarrassment still flooded through my system from our last conversation. I was hurt that he had thought so low of me and that he felt the need to scream at me in front of the whole pack.

I flinched as the memory of what I said popped back in my head. 

~

“Do you really think I wanted to be this monster?” I spun around to stare at him. Ignoring the eavesdropping teens behind me. Paul's face still held the ame disgust, as it did after Jacob told everyone of the newborn army.

“You honestly think that I asked to be this bloodsucking filth.” Paul's face flashed in shock at my phrasing.

" I had a life." I stressed the last word " A good life. With a doting husband, who I only recently found out, killed himself because he couldn't protect me." 

I never told Paul about Jonathan...or anything about my past because…Well he never seemed to care. Hell, Alice and Jasper are the only ones that even knew about Jonathan's suicide...maybe Edward but- \

Finally looking and registering the blank look that was Paul’s face now. I felt nothing but anger as I tried to bite my tongue from telling him anymore. He doesn't deserve to know about Jon. He doesn't get to use that against me like he uses everything else to attack me.

He just doesn't understand the fuckery that I've had to deal with. “ Did you know that one of the uhh-” I looked back at the ground “side efforts~” 

I almost laughed at my word choice. “Of being a leech is that you can’t kill yourself.” I could hear his heart skip a beat. “ Yeah... we can kill each other just not ourselves.”

A laugh escaped my throat, then another , then another. I shook my head, trying to pull myself back together. “And I know that because I tried every single method of the book."

“Even lighting myself on fire, did nothing but tickle me.”

"Y/n" I heard him breathe, then I felt the tiniest brush of a touch on the top of my shoulder. Jerking away from him, and looking back at his face. I saw the disgust that had laced in his expression and eyes were gone. In its place, was an expression of remorse. 

Full on laughing I tried to continue my speech, “It’s hilariously fucked up isn’t it” If I could cry I would be. I swallow the dry sob in the back of my throat. 

“Well my whole entire existence is fucked up actually.” I started to calm down. “ If it wasn’t, I would be 6 feet under right now.”  

“ Y/n” He started but I held up a hand to stop him, but he squeezed out “ It was a bad choice of word-.” 

"Of course!" I blew up. " Because you didn't know." I raised an eyebrow as he raised a hand to touch me again. He put it back down as when he saw the flames in my eyes. I continued "Because you never gave me the chance to explain to you what I went through. You just assumed that I asked for it ." 

"I'm done with having to defend myself, morally from you."   I turned and headed back to my vehicle, ignoring Paul's yells, as I slammed the car door. Bella would just have to get a ride from Jake. 

~

A wave of calmness hitting my system pulled me from the embarrassing memory. My eye shot up to Jasper, who was on the other side of her. He was still staring straight ahead. 

“Welcome” Carlisle spoke, I let my gaze settle on his relaxed stance out in the middle. My father has always amazed me with his calm appearance. 

"I know it must be a difficult thing for you to come." Then he went on to explain that Edward would be acting as a translator, so that way they don't have to phase if they don't want to.

“Thank you” Edward replied in a gruff tone. “We will only watch and listen, but no more. That is the most we can ask of our self-control.” I was thrilled more by that statement than I should be. I was hopeful that maybe I would be able to leave this place without a glance at a certain wolf.

“That is more than enough,” Carlisle smiled calmly. “My son Jasper” his right hand moved to gesture  “And daughter, Y/N '' his hand then shifting slightly to me, I nodded in acknowledgement to Carlisle gaze.

If I was still human, I would have had thousands of tiny goosebumps, up and down my arms right now. It felt like there were at least a thousand eyes on me.

"-have experience in this area. They will teach us how the newborns fight, and how they will be defeated. I’m sure you can apply this to your own hunting style." I heard a low rumble among the wolves 

“They are different from you?” asked Edward. Or Sam? This is getting confusing already. Carlisle smiled, “How about I let them explain.” again gesturing toward Jasper and me before stepping back to stand next to Esme. Jasper and I both walked up from the back to where Carlisle stood in the middle. 

I took a quick glance at Jasper and knowing, he would want to talk more than I did but I promised to speak mainly to the wolves if he explained more to our family. So that meant this question was for me to answer. 

Directing and keeping my attention to Sam, I tried to stay unfazed as I spoke “Yes, as they are still very new to this life. The Newborns will be full of frenzy driven by the brute strength given to them from the blood that still lingers in their system."  

"The newborns will fight amongst themselves. As of today we know that their numbers sit at 20. Ten for us and ten for you, with that it shouldn't be too difficult. but it's highly likely that their numbers will either lower farther or raise. ”  A rumble of excitement seems to run through them. 

“We are happy to take more than our share. If necessary” Edward translated, I notice the change in the tone. I smiled, “We will have to see.”

“ What makes you two more qualified on this matter than any of the others?” Edward spoke again. 

 There was a rustle next to me as Jasper took a step forward. Arms behind his back, his stance reminded me of my first meeting with him after I changed, posed and ready for a fight. 

“Y/N and I were forced into this life for the same reason as these newborns were forced. Except developed a conscience that our creator-" spoke with clear disgust in his tone. " -did not have control over." 

I heard a small gasp behind me and a small rustling of feet behind me. Clearly Bella did not know this strange detail. Jasper began to pace. I always picked on him when he did this. 'Your military is showing', I would say. But right now, it was nothing short of intimidating how he stood. 

“We know how to defeat them because we know what it's like to be them.” “Thank you” Edward quickly cut him off. “We will watch now.” Nodding Jasper turned to face back to our family. 

“There are 2 things you need to know, 1. Don’t let them get their arms around you; they will crush you instantly. 2.” He stopped turning back to face the wolves.

I flashed a look at Sam, the black wolf stood taller staring back at the ex-major. 

“ Don’t go for the obvious kill “ Jasper spoke clearly emphasizing each word wanting them to understand him. “ They will be expecting that. “ Jazz relaxed “ and you will lose. “ Sam let out a huff in response. 

“ Y/N and Emmett, you are up first.” I heard a mumble pass down the wolf line as everyone spread back leaving me and Emmett at different ends of the field.

“This should be good” Emmett spoke now, seeming to warm himself up, rubbing his hands together. 

“Emmett relies on his strength very much like the newborns.” Jasper said “ so he will be a good example for you.” He looked between Emmett and I. "Start whenever you are ready." I smiled at Em “Don’t hold back” cockily,  he let out a bearish laugh at ending it with a smirk. “Not in my nature” and he charged.

I felt the wind as he chucked me in the air, quickly catching myself in a landing spin charging back at him. It seemed not even a long second had passed before I had his large head smashed into the ground. 

“Again” Emmett growled. Smiling, I pushed away from him. I tried to ignore the huffs and snorts coming from the wolves' side.

“Don’t lose your focus” I told him “Following your emotions is only making your moves more predictable.” He nodded, standing up and heading over to his end of the field again. I nodded toward Jasper who agreed with my assessment, gesturing to continue with Emmett.

Taking my place again, Emmett charged and within the next minute he was already calling for another rematch. 

"Don't turn your back on your enemy." Jasper spoke with an eye roll. 

**Paul’s Pov**

"Y/n is kicking his ass." laughed Jared. Silently laughing with him I watched as Y/N jumped on top of the big Cullen twisting him mid-air and slamming him into the ground again. 

"That she is, " agreed Sam lightly chuckling.

Watching her first stand across the field from that large Cullen made my insides twist in worry; however, as I watched her pin him in no time flat, it seemed to bring a sense of pride in me. It only made me feel even more guilty. I shouldn't be happy to finally see her again. I didn't deserve it. Not after what I said about her.

"God, please just apologize to her already" spoke Leah, before I could reply Sam growled softly

" Leah," he warned.

"Shut up" I replied harshly. "I'll keep my thoughts to myself."

"What? I am only trying to help! Out of all of us. I'm the one who knows best how to handle the emotional range of a woman." Quick to defend herself, I realized Leah made sense.Before anyone could really respond to her statement. We watched as Gruff-man walked off the field. Leaving only Y/n on the field...undefeated. Edward stepped up, Jacob tensed as Edward's death flashed in his thoughts

"Jake" Sam barked

Watching all the Cullen's fight each other it was clear to anyone that both Y/N and Jasper were the only experienced ones. Either of them lost a fight with any of the others. It made me wonder…

"We're done for the day"

------

[since0202]

Chapter 13: Relief

The next morning when Grace woke up, Bella wasn’t in her bed. She looked around groggy and confused and checked her phone. Nothing. She was the least popular Spirit Bird ever. 

She threw her body back onto her pillows and let out a huge breath rubbing her tired eyes and face. With a groan loud enough to echo around her room, she tugged herself from bed and went to take a shower. Her hair was in tangled knots after dunking it in sink water to cool herself off, so Grace took her time letting the hot water run over her, combing her thick, black hair out gently in the shower. She washed her face and once out the shower, she brushed her teeth and put on face lotion. She felt semi-human again all things considered. 

Grace was methodical in her bedroom, choosing an outfit carefully and donning black skinny jeans, a black tank top with spaghetti straps, and a bright white cropped hoodie that just showed the underside of her chest. She wrapped Ti’Hal’s stone necklace around her neck three times so that the clung to her neck like a choker with the stone dangling off and refitted the bracelet Jake gave her to her wrist. She’d been leaving it behind in case she was called to the rez to help and didn’t want to lose it, but now it felt necessary to have on. 

Grace tousled her loose thick waves as she carefully blow dried them and when she was satisfied, she gently smoothed them so they were lustrous and shiny. When she looked at herself in the mirror she smiled--what she was doing, Grace wasn’t entirely sure, but it felt nice to look this way again and not the disheveled mess she’d been for the past month and a half. As she walked to the bedroom door, her eyes caught the warm plum lip gloss sitting on her desk. She quickly pulled some color on and walked down the stairs to pull on her boots. 

“Charlie?” she called out. “Bella?” As she tied up her laces, she glanced on the single pane window to see the truck missing. Charlie rounded the corner. 

“Bells isn’t here. She took off to the rez for something, she should be back soon.” He paused. “You look nice. Off to see Jake?” he gave her a soft smile. Grace internally flinched and strode across the small foyer to grab her heavy raincoat from the closet. 

“Ah, no.” she gave a hard laugh. “Just going to run a few errands and swing by to see Billy and Ti’Hal, probably.” She nodded. 

“Oh well, I could give you a ride. Let me grab my keys.” Grace nodded appreciatively and then bounded out to Charlie’s cruiser. 

Bella was at the rez? What for? 

When they reached Billy’s house, Charlie came inside with her to check in on him. Unsurprised, Jake was not home. But Bella’s truck wasn’t there either. She asked Billy if Bella had been by to which he nodded. Then discreetly, he motioned to the window. 

Grace looked out and saw that there had clearly been a fight, between who she wasn’t sure, but the broken trees and debris scattered everywhere indicated it was big. 

“I think they all headed over to Emily’s for some lunch.” Billy replied casually. 

“Oh, did you want me to take you there?” Charlie asked. Grace smiled and shook her head. 

“Oh no, I can get there easy! I’ll catch a ride back with Bells. Thanks Charlie!” Grace replied scooting out the door and heading into the trees to recast. 

On the front porch of Emily’s, she heard hoots and hollers within. Happy. She thought, relieved.

As she climbed the steps and crossed the threshold her eyes were automatically drawn to Jacob’s. He was leaning against the counter in the kitchen with a  black shirt and jeans on. Paul was rotating his shoulder and jabbing Embry who kept making quips about his ineptitude to dodge a phase on the fly. 

Grace walked in and pushed both her hands on Paul’s back making him lurch forward slightly against the table “I should have known it was you who started a fight.” 

“Ow! Injured here!” he cried back slapping playfully at her hand. “Oh wow, you look nice.” he said smiling up at her. Grace blushed furiously and ran a hand through her hair. 

“Oh, I do?” She responded embarrassed. 

“You do.” Jacob replied from his space leaning on the counter. Her gaze darted to his and held it there. She could still feel the warmth of blush in her face but instead of embarrassment, she swelled with a feeling that made her toes tingle. 

“Thanks.” She said, not letting her eyes drop from Jacob’s. He gave her a secretive smile and then looked over to the staircase where Bella was sitting and gave her a nod to follow him. Grace hadn’t realized Bella was there until this moment and she grounded herself immediately by placing a tentative hand on Paul’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” Grace murmured as Bella walked past. Bella looked unsurprised but still a little startled to see Grace standing there. 

“Hey.” Bella said as she walked by her and out the front door. Jacob followed and they were off down the beach together. 

Grace let out a long breath that she had been holding and then sank into the kitchen chair next to Paul. She shook her head laughing and said, 

“So what did you do?” 

“Me? I was just keeping the pecking order straight.” Paul retorted. 

“Wait, isn’t that my job?” Grace said. 

“I thought that was Sam’s job.” Embry said as he took a bite of a large muffin on the table. 

“No, that’s Emily’s job.” Jared countered. Sam laughed at this and kissed Emily’s cheek. 

“So what was all that about then?” Grace motioned to the door where Jake and Bella had left through. 

“Jacob found a way around Sam’s gag order,” Quil relayed. “Bella figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” Grace said alarmed. 

“About us.” Paul stated. “So you can see why I was pissed.” 

“Actually, I don’t, but also what the hell. How did he do that?” Grace queried the room. They all shrugged their shoulders and Sam simply said: 

“She just said she figured it out.” 

Good on Bells, Grace thought to herself. Sam gave Grace a measured look. “What?” she said when she noticed him staring. He shook his head and turned back to Emily. Weird. 

Grace’s gaze carried out the open front door toward the beach. The pulling sensation was back again. Paul nudged her from his seat next to her. 

“Hey,” to this she looked at him and gave him a smile. He reached out and grabbed her hand that was resting in her lap and she let him. It felt good to be so warm. 

When Bella and Jake returned from their walk, the pack was already deep into dinner, crushed around the table. Grace was throwing her head back and laughing as Quil tried to imitate a member of the tribe who had a tendency to give unsolicited advice to passersby. Bella squeezed in next to Grace and Jake joined the head of the table next to Sam and Jared before digging in himself. Bella nudged her shoulder into Grace and gave her a reserved smile. Grace leaned her head into Bella’s and touched her forehead to hers. To this, Bella left out an elated laugh, one mixed with relief and desperation to cling to the happiness filling this home. 

It was late by the time they left, having been subjected to watching the pack play an impromptu version of soccer/rugby/volleyball where the rules changed as the ball switched hands. On their way home, Bella looked over at her tentatively. 

“So do you turn into a wolf too?” Bella raised an eyebrow. Grace looked at her confused. 

“Jake didn’t tell you?” Bella shook her head at this. Interesting, Grace thought. How did Jake share the secret without including Grace. For a moment she felt a pang of insecurity that it was because he didn’t see her as a real member of the pack but then realized it was more likely that he didn’t want to share that with Bella if Grace didn’t. Grace let a smile creep across her face before saying. 

“Nah, I’m the Spirit Bird.” She looked over to see Bella’s reaction. She cocked her head to one side and opened her mouth as if to say something and then closed it again. “Pretty cool huh?” 

“Aaah, yah.” 

“You have no idea what I’m talking about do you?” Bella bust out laughing and Grace joined in. 

“No, no I don’t.” 

The pulled into their driveway and still pealed with laughter as they stumbled out of the truck together. They linked arms and heard a rustling sound off in the forest that made Bella jump. To this, Grace clamped a hand over her mouth and tried to repress another burst of laughter. 

“Bells, relax. It’s Paul and Jacob.” Grace pointed to where two glowing eyes were just barely visible in the dark trees. Bella held a hand over her chest and took a deep breath before continuing toward the front door with Grace. 

“Jeez, that scared me. Do that do that alot?” 

“Protection duty.” Grace shrugged. She only knew because she heard Jacob communicate to her just now. 

“Wait, how can you tell who it is?” Bella looked at her confused. 

“Spirit bird, remember? I’m psychically linked with them when their in wolf form. Paul says,” she paused and closed her eyes tightly trying to tune into Paul. It took more effort to pick him up. “Nice butt.” Grace’s eyes shot open. “WHAT!? PAUL!” 

“Oh my god,” Bella rolled her eyes and let out a guffaw. Grace could clearly hear an angry snapping sound coming from the tree line, likely Jacob in response. 

“Boys.” Grace groaned as they piled through the front door and up the stairs to their room. Once they were changed, careful to close the blinds to deter Paul “Nice Butt” Lahote from staring in, Grace laid on Bella’s bed and told her about being the Spirit Bird. Bella listened intently and stopped her when she had a question about her abilities. Grace was surprised at how not totally freaked out she was by all of this. 

Grace asked Bella how she had found out about the wolves with Sam’s alpha order in place and Bella explained about how Jacob told her about the legends last year walking on the beach. Grace swallowed hard at the mention of the cold ones, not sure if Bella had grasped the entirety of the legends. She had pieced it together when she had had a dream about Sam’s wolf form showing up in the woods to get her the night of the incident and again when she had went hiking in the woods. By the end of Bella’s explanation, Grace had a strange feeling that Bella was holding something back but didn’t press her. She was just glad to not have to sneak around anymore. She loved Bella and had missed sharing things with her. 

They fell asleep in Bella’s bed together, talking late into the night. Grace was glad for the company and she felt closer to Bella than she had been in months. 

They were woken up the next day by Charlie opening their bedroom door and shaking Grace’s shoulder. 

“Girls! Wake up, you’re gonna be late!” Grace opened her eyes, groggy, and Bella stirred a little. 

“Okay,” Grace said in the middle of a yawn. Charlie left their room and they heard his cruiser shortly after. 

“Ditch?” Bella mumbled. Grace nodded and gave a tired “mmmmhhmm” before rolling over and falling back asleep. 

They woke up again much later in the morning and Grace checked her phone. Two missed calls from Sam early this morning, followed shortly by a text from Jake: 

SMS Text—7:55 am: Jake 

Told Sam you were still sleeping. He’s freaking out about you telling Bella about being the Spirit Bird. 

Going home to sleep. Text me when you wake up. 

Grace held a phone to her head and gave a dramatic sigh. 

“What is it?” Bella asked as she pulled on her jeans. 

“Sam’s being fussy about me cluing you into the Spirit Bird thing.” 

“Why?” 

“You got me.” It wasn’t a direct order was it? If it was, she wouldn’t have been able to break it. She pressed Sam’s number in her phone and closed her eyes as it rang. 

“Sam? Yeah.” She could already hear it in his voice. Disappointed, livid wolf dad tone. Great. When she hung up, she turned to Bella. 

“So I have to go to the rez for a bit. You should stay here because–” Grace cut herself off, not sure how to conclude since she didn’t think Bella knew about the redhead vampire. 

“Yeah, of course, go. I’m going to catch up on some homework.” Bella responded waving her away. Grace raised an eyebrow at her nonchalance. That was easy. She pulled on a green flannel an orange t-shirt and some jeans. She threw her hair up in a messy bun and ran toward the truck. When she looked up at their bedroom window, she saw Bella watching her go expectantly. 

She didn’t give it a second thought though as she turned out of the driveway and pushed on toward the rez. Sam had said to hurry, he’d deal with her later, bla bla bla, but that the redhead was back and they were running rounds. Charlie was in the woods with some hunting buddies trying to find the animal that had been killing all of the hikers when it fact it was the redhead. They’re rounds would be more complicated with the hunting party spread out in the forest and Sam wanted her to run recon with Jake to better scout their path. 

When she pulled into Sam’s driveway, he was waiting arms crossed on the porch. Grace sank into the drivers seat away from his glowering stare. When she finally hopped out she held her hands up in surrender. 

“I know, I know. Irresponsible, ditching class, wow, Grace what would your father think?” Grace recounted. She was already privy to their inner workings so she had heard what they thought often about Grace’s father. At first it had been difficult to hear even his name, but soon it became a comfort. 

“Just get moving. Jake’s already on the northwest side.” Sam said as he backed away from the porch and headed east. 

Here we go, Grace thought as she recast, holding onto Jake’s figure in her mind and letting that familiar pull guide her to him. 

[dreamer213]

Broken Machines: Lights the Dark

Chapter 3 Evening In Atlas Part 3

At the sound of his voice Penny breaks free from her trance. She looks back at her hand remembers that they were still in a life or death situation. Somehow of the gravity of the situation had been lost in her fawning over him.

Penny: Y-Yes Of Course! I-I’ll Get You Up Right Away!

Penny, now flustered, grabs his other hand and pulls him back up onto the balcony. Once he’s back on his feet and dust himself off Penny gets a look at his full figure. He was two inches shorter then her in heels, he’d be two inches taller than her if she was in her normal shoes, he had a model’s figure very slim and elegant, and his limbs are long and delicate especially his hands. Long elegant fingers with clean manicured nails and soft palms. He was like painting come to life and Penny can’t help but admire his beauty. While she’s admiring him Whitley fully composes himself and speaks up.

Whitley: Thank the gods I thought I was done for. If it’s wasn’t for you I could’ve died! Thank you, thank you so much Miss?

Penny: My n-name is Pe-

“Good Heavens Are You Alright?”

A sudden shout interrupts them prompting both to reenter the ballroom floor. Once they set foot back in they are immediately surrounded by group of “considered” onlookers. Penny recommend the woman who screamed as one of the ladies she ran into early.

Woman in indigo dress: Whitley dear, I saw the commotion and ran over as fast as I could! Are you alright?

Short business man: Yes we saw you being pull up and were too shocked to move!

Woman in red dress: And to think your fate was left in the hands of a little girl. Gods you must have been absolutely terrified.

The crowd turns their gases towards Penny, watching her for a reaction. Penny could feel the stares on her and tried to think of something to say, she doubted her normal response of “ just do what’s right” would be taken well but she couldn’t think of anything else. It was only reason she did what she did but there’s no way this people could understand that. She starts trembling a bit but before anyone else can start questioning her Whitley takes her hand and pulls her close. She turns to asks him what he was doing but he just gives her a knowing smile. He knows where this is going and he’d be damned if he was going to let foulness be thrown at the person that just saved his life.

Whitley: Actually I was quite happy. When I fell I thought it would be the end for me but this brave young woman thrown herself into harms way to save my life without any hesitation. And after such a daring rescue I’m sure my savior must be very tired and I myself am still quite shaken, so of you’ll excuse us, We need to go find a place to rest.

Woman in red dress: But of course after such a harrowing experience who would need a rest. Here, let me watch over the girl while you get some rest.

Whitley: Thank you Mrs. Dahlia but I can’t possibly ask that of you especially when you already have some much on your mind already.

Mrs. Dahlia (red dress): What do you talking about? Our business is doing wonderful and I just bought a new fur I haven’t a worry in the world right now.

Whitley: But didn’t your son Jacob just return from his health spa retreat? Certainly he needs your attention much more the I do.

Mrs. Dahlia: How did you-

Whitley: He was gone for so long I thought he’d never return but it looks like he’s finally pulled himself together. Though it seems he still has issues with slurring his words and maintaining his balance. So I think it be best if you go and checked in on him first before worrying about us.

Mrs.Dahlia: Y-your absolutely right! I’ll go check on him right now! Excuse me!

Dahlia runs off, face as red as her dress completely shamed. The short man, a Mr. Aster, is about to speak up again but Whitley spots it and goes ahead of him.

Whitley: Oh Mr. Aster I believe there was a man in a tiger print suit looking for you earlier. I think he said some about some debts you owe and lead pipe-

Before he can say anything else Aster has already scurried away. With that the crowd grow silent, they know that Whitley wasn’t going to tolerate their behavior and soon the sea of people parts down the middle allowing Whitley and Penny passage. Once they’re past the crowd Whitley whispers to Penny.

Whitley: (whisper) I’ve never seen you before did someone bring you with them? If so where are they?

Penny: (whisper) Yes I was brought here but we got separated. The last time I saw him he was talking with a large group of people at the entrance of ballroom.

Whitley: (whisper) How many people?

Penny: (whisper) Thirty six people when we separated but there could be more they were still coming when I left.

Whitley: (whisper) Then he should still be there, I’ll take you back to him.

Penny nods in responses and they begin to make their way through the ballroom. On their way they encounter more elites trying to make conversation with Whitley. But Whitley is able to bypass all of them using his practiced social skills. His methods consist of redirecting their attention to someone else, giving them a quick response and promising to continue later, or subtly shaming them until they take the hit and run off with their tails tucked in. For him this was sort of thing was like breathing, in effortless function he did to survive, but to Penny, who was getting a front row seat of this, it was incredible. It was like combat in verbal form with the strategic weaponization of words, tactical use of information, and well timed retreats. In this battle Penny was just a civilian, lost on a battlefield she doesn’t know how to fight on being carried to safety by a veteran soldier while he strikes down enemies left and right to clear their path. It was remarkable.

They’re near the dance floor all they have to do is cross it and they have a clear shot to the entrance. As they near the edge of the dance floor Penny spot General Ironwood across the room. He was just a few yards away from the dance floor if they cut across they’d end up right next to him! Penny tugs at Whitley’s sleeve then points in Ironwood’s direction.

Penny: (whisper) He’s right over there we just have to get across.

Whitley: (whisper) Well then let’s not keep him waiting.

Just as they’re about to move forward suddenly music starts to play and couples make there way onto and around the formally empty dance floor. With all the people on the floor there’s no way to walking across and the crowd of onlookers was far too thick to see through. There was only one way to get across the floor. Whitley taps his feet to the music, a standard 3 step waltz a beginners dance. He looks over to his savior and meets her gaze.

Whitley: (whisper) Do you know how to dance?

Penny: (whisper) N-no I do not.

Whitley: (whisper) Hmmm, Okay then just stay close, hold on tight, and let me lead.

Before she ask what he means Whitley pulls them onto the dance floor, he takes her left hand and places it on his right shoulder puts his right hand under her left shoulder blade, and raises their joined hands up to a little above shoulder level, at standard waltz position. He starts slow until Penny gets the rhythm of his movements. Once she’s got it he speed up a bit moving them a bit closer to the other people on the floor. They’re closing in on the other couples dancing they just need to match their speed then jump in. Whitley looks to Penny and mouths “Ready? she think for a moment then nods. With that he speeds up to match the song and the other dancers, and throws them into the sea of dancing couples. Whitley leads them around the dance floor looking for openings to cut through the other dancers to get across. Meanwhile Penny is bewildered, she’s trying to get her body to go on autopilot and just match his movements but she just can’t! Her mind is a jumbled mess and all she can focus on is trying not to step on his feet. This whole night had been an insane mess, here she was supposed to be on a mission but somehow she ended up here on the dance floor with him. To be honest it was like a fairytale and she was the heroine dancing in the castle with the prince, how enchanting. No no no she couldn’t think like that she had to focus on getting back to Ironwood not her own fantasies. Whitley notices her attempts to keep up with him and is honestly amused by it. Her face is scrunched up in focus and her eyes are trained on their feet, it’s so obvious and clumsy that it’s actually sort of cute. Just enough so that it makes him laugh a bit and puts a little smile on his face. The sound of his laughter gets Penny’s attention and she looks back up but only for a second as the moment she sees his smile she goes bright red. She may have lacked an actual heart but something in her chest was pounding like a drum.

It only lasted around four minutes but it felt like an eternity, once the first song ended they had already made it to the other side though Penny hadn’t noticed she was still trying to unravel the odd new feelings she was experiencing. How could one person make feel so nervous but so happy it was so confusing. As she ponders a familiar figure approaches them.

Ironwood: Penny.

Penny: General!

Whitley: General Ironwood?

Whitley stood in shock as Penny ran to Ironwood’s side, he couldn’t believe this small sweet girl Penny was here with General Ironwood. Now most of Whitley know about coming from the dealing between Ironwood and his father. The relationship between them hadn’t been good for long time as Jacques was too money focused to see the bigger picture while Ironwood was straight forward, always had a plan of action, and dislike compromise with Jacques on anything. But with global communication down they were stuck with each other. He also knew that Ironwood was a workaholic and an antisocial especially since Beacon fell. The charity gala was his first appearance in high since the catastrophe and for him to be at another event so soon was off kilter but bringing an unknown young woman with him as well, completely abnormal. Ironwood was here for a reason and While had to figure out why.

Whitley: General Ironwood it would seem that I found your lost companion.

Ironwood: Indeed you did. And Penny isn’t just a companion she also one of my soldiers.

Penny: I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. I was going to introduce myself but that crowd at the balcony frightened me and could not finish my sentence.

Ironwood: A crowd? Hmm, We’ll talk about that later but first I should thank you for returning my soldier Schnee.

Whitley: Please General call me Whitley and honestly I should be the one thanking you. If you hadn’t brought her here tonight I wouldn’t be standing here right now. Getting this lovely girl back to you was the least I could do. In fact I’d like to offer you a lending hand in you’re endeavors as thanks for your soldier’s heroic actions.

Ironwood: Really? And why a lending hand? Isn’t gifting a nice car, summer home or some other luxury item the norm from your family.

Whitley: (chuckles) Oh General I think you’ve gotten a bit confused that’s my father’s style of gifting. He likes to give people pretty things because that’s what he thinks everyone wants. While it can be very effective it’s just not my style. No I prefer to look past simple glitz and glamor to see what they really want and from what I’ve seen General you didn’t come here for a good time.

Whitley had been reflecting on what had happened tonight and a few things stood out. Ironwood had come to this party which was completely out of character, he brought a naïve young woman with him, and said naïve woman was a soldier and if her actions earlier were any indicator of her skill, a damn good one at that. There was only few reasons a man like Ironwood would come to an event like this with such an gentle but very capable soldier at his side and all of them led back to one thing. Information. That what Ironwood wanted and if Whitley could give it to him then his plan for the future might go smoother the he thought. All he needed to do was reel him in.

Whitley: If there’s something you’d like to know or need help find out about something I’d be happy to help. But if you’re non interested I could also offer some etiquette lessons for your soldier, seeing as she such a hard time tonight some formal training would surely be of great use to her.

Whitley existents a hand to Ironwood.

Ironwood: This will be kept discrete?

Whitley: Of course, discretion is absolutely necessary when dealing with the military.

Ironwood: We’ll go over the details later but for now I accept. Your contribution will be greatly appreciated by myself and by Atlas as a whole.

Ironwood gives Whitley firm handshake, it hurts a bit but Whitley shakes it off. He puts his now slightly pulsing hand in his suit pocket and pulls out two business cards. He hands one to each of them. Penny takes hers with both hands, reading very carefully. The information on it was standard but somehow felt significant, specifically his number. It was like a link, a way she could reach him to for…well she didn’t know there was just so much she wanted known, wanted say. She still hadn’t even properly introduced herself! After all that’s happened tonight she couldn’t leave without doing the one thing she was supposed to.

Whitley: Thank you again General Ironwood. We’ll contact you about the details in the morning. Have a nice rest of your evening.

Whitley turns to walk away but Penny quickly steps up behind him and grabs the hem of his sleeve causing him to turn back. Penny stand straight up, with a bright smile and her signature salute finally speaks the line she’s been trying to get out all night.

Penny: S-s-Salutations! My name is Penny Poledina, it was a pleasure meeting you tonight!

There’s a pause, silence falls over the scene until a little chuckle escape from Whitley. Once he’s pulled himself back together he looks at Penny with an almost sincere smile.

Whitley: It was nice meeting you as well Ms. Poledina and I hope to see you again soon.

With that Whitley walks off to go find his father to inform him over this new opportunity he’s secured for them. Penny returns to Ironwood expecting to be scolded for her actions but instead he pats her head and give her a nod of approval. She did well tonight as she just secured a life debt from what could be considered the royal family of Atlas high society. Not only that but it was with the most level head and even tempered of the family. This was the golden key of contention and Ironwood couldn’t be more proud.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Informing Jacques had gone better than Whitley expected. Though that was mostly because Jacques was absolutely thrilled by the prospect of Ironwood own him a favor given their tumultuous business relationship and planned to milk the situation for all it’s worth. With that Whitley was dismissed for the night and retired to his bedroom while Jacques return to the party.

Happy but exhausted Whitley baths and changes into his sleepwear then heads to his bed where he quickly falls asleep. As his consciousness fades slowly the darkness of his mind is illuminated by a white light. Whitley finds himself on a cold floor, he looks around and sees that his in the middle of a circle surrounded by a circle of lights and armchairs, soon figures begin stepping out from behind them, each give a wave before taking a set in their respective chair. Each figure was the same but different, all where the same white haired blue eyed young man but each dressed in their own fashion and adorned their faces with unique animal masks. This is council of thought, a reacquiring lucid dream of his was the only place in existence Whitley could speak freely and full engross himself in his thoughts. Whitley stands and looks around, there are five chairs and five figures. The smartly dressed owl in a sweater vest and plaid pants, the smirking fox with rolled up sleeves and pants legs, the lion dressed in battle wear with a red cape with gold lace trim on his back, the peacock dolled up in his finest with his usual over the top suit and long feather coattails, and the wolf.

Whitley: Looks likes everyone’s here, it’s time to proceed. Owl! State of current affairs.

Owl: We’ve been formally announced as new the heir, preformed well at the party, had an near death experience which led to us to extending a hand to Ironwood. We now have in opportunity to start repairing our family’s relationship with the Atlas military. Father was pleased with our actions and our awaiting further instruction. That is all for current affairs, the floor is now up to commentary.

Fox: (Yawn) Gods keeping that stupid smile on our face was absolute pain. But watching those vultures squirm on their boots trying to keep up with us was priceless! I mean that Aster practically fainted when we mentioned the tiger suit (Laughs) too easy.

Lion: That’s because we had one hell of a bounce back! I mean what other elite could almost fall to their deaths then jumping right back into the fire not two minutes later! (chuckles)

Peacock: Let’s not forget about appearances Dears. You can’t deny that us staying prim and proper the whole night was key in our success. Especially with the General, gods knows he wouldn’t have taken us seriously if we let ourselves get disheveled.(giggles)

Whitley: Looks like we’re all in agreement, the night went well despite a few hiccups. Isn’t that right Wolf?

The last figure, Wolf, was a far cry from the rest, as apposed to sitting in his chair he squatted down in front of it, his appearance was just as odd. Long and unkempt hair, his only clothing were a tattered pair of dress pants and silver chains shackled on his wrists and ankles with a tight collar around his neck. Scars clover the skin of his biceps, feet, and back. And then there was his eyes. They were almost completely devoid of life, the only thing reflecting out of them was pure unbridled hatred.

This was the one part himself Whitley never showed but kept at the forefront of his mind at most times. This monster had grown from the depths of his once innocent heart after many years of suffering. it’s hungry was the only thing keeping him alive when things had got to their worst in the manor. No matter how tiring this game of playing good boy for Father was, no matter how painful interacting with his mother and sister became, and no matter how hopeless he felt at times the wolf’s hunger would always push him back onto his plan. It needed him to see this to the end HE needed to see this to the end! He’d never be at peace until then and until then the wolf remains waiting for that day.

Wolf: (growls) Why most we give more to that damn BASTERD!....After everything he’s done to us… what he’s done to our sisters….to Mother…….TO KLEIN! (Anger Growl)

Whitley goes over to wolf, he bends down to Wolf’s level and pets his shoulder.

Whitley: Shh Shhh, there there Wolf be patient. Just a couple more years, a little more boot licking, and plenty of good behavior and then we will strike. And when we do-

Whitley looks deep into Wolf’s eyes, that same look of pure hate now reflected back into Wolf.

Whitley: We. Will. Be. Freed. And. You. Will. Be. Fed. We just have to be patient if only for a little while longer.

The wolf growls in agreement, he smiles wide showing off his big bright fangs. Having pacified Wolf the meeting of thought had come to an end for the night and Whitley should be returning to a state of darkness before waking up. But instead of the room fading away into nothing the sound of a chair being pushed can be heard behind Whitley and Wolf. Whitley turns around to see another chair has been pushed into circle with a small rabbit mask place in the seat. He’s confused, this had never happened before, the dream had never changed against his will. The rules of this place were simple, this room and everything in it were all there was and that there should be here. And it was a always ALWAYS under Whitley’s control. So why? Why had that changed? Suddenly a new voice calls out from the void. It was soft and small like the animal the new mask mimics.

??????: …..That girl….she…was..so nice….Her smile was so….sweet….so..pure…so…..real…How long has it been…since someone smiled at us that way?..... How long has it been….since someone looked at us that way?.....I…want…..I want to see her….I want see her smile again.

Suddenly everything fades to white and Whitley wakes up.

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a sequel.

chapter four: advent

word count: 8.7k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, brief mentions of what could-be prenatal depression. elliot considers the logistics of murder. nothing new.

notes: i am so sorry that this chapter took so long to come around, but i hope it's worth the wait! we're finally getting somewhere with these two dummies, as well as a few little things starting to develop along the way. i'm really pleased with how this chapter finally came out, because it was giving me some trouble to start with, but thankfully i have some wonderful people around to help keep me motivated and not letting me get discouraged!

special thank you to my beta reader, @starcrier, for helping me with the barebones skeleton of this chapter and not letting me get too in my head about it. and a thank you to my loves, @shallow-gravy and @baeogorath, for lending me their eyes as well as i tried to muddle through the parts of this that felt so, so difficult. i adore you all so much!!

Isolde fucking hated Montana.

Maybe “hated” was a bit strong of a term, but all she could feel as she cinched her coat tighter around her and waded through crowds of milling, purposeless passersby in the airport was that she could not wait to leave—and she had only touched down minutes ago.

That she was even here at all was a miracle in and of itself: she didn’t owe John Seed anything. Not a favor, not the time of day, not the firing of her neurons to process her furious disdain for him. If anything, John owed her for up and fucking off for no good reason. If anything, he should be the one doing her a favor. Strapping him to a bed of nails on the hood of a car and watching him suffer while she drove over speed bumps in a mall parking lot during an earthquake would have been a good start.

I need your help, Sol, he’d said, like he didn’t have two fucking hands and eyes and a mediocre brain of his own to get things done.

“Fucker,” Isolde gritted out between her teeth. “Fucking—stupid—fuckface. Fuck I hate him. I hate him.”

But that wasn’t really true, was it? She didn’t hate John, not in the same capacity that she actually hated people, like the ex-husband that so rarely registered in her brain nowadays. For all of his posturing and Napoleon syndrome, John had been her only friend, the only person that she trusted, for a very long time.

Fuck me, she thought, I’m in a bad spot if that’s the case.

It was.

Isolde stepped out of the airport and into the frigid air of the outside pick-up area. Her eyes scanned the area, and while she thought for certain she saw a familiar redhead right away, he was leaned up against a beat-up, mud-splattered truck and surely Jacob Seed did not think he was going to put her in a metal death trap that looked like it wasn’t going to make it five minutes on the highway.

He waved to catch her attention. Isolde stayed firmly put, and she saw—with a little lick of amusement whispering inside of her—Jacob’s teeth flash in a grin.

“Sol,” he called, beginning to saunter over, “I know you can see me.”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” she asked tartly. “I was supposed to be getting picked up by an actual vehicle, not...” She leaned around Jacob’s broad-shouldered figure to peer pointedly at the beater truck, which had not miraculously become better in the last thirty seconds. “...three pieces of metal loosely held together by a shit welding job.”

Jacob’s wolfish smile did not dim. “Good to see you, too.”

“Hello, my darling.” She beckoned him with one hand, giving him a one-armed hug once he was within range. “I suppose you are the transportation John promised, then.”

“None other,” Jacob replied.

“Surely, no expense was spared.”

“Surely.”

Jacob relinquished her of the weight of her suitcase, lifting it with ease and beckoning with a tilt of his head for her to follow. She did, even though her reservations about getting into a fucked up Toyota had not abated; as the eldest Seed brother loaded the suitcase into the back “seat” (being used loosely in this context), Isolde hoisted herself up into the passenger seat.

“Hm,” was what came out of her once she was buckled in, a singular expression of her displeasure, and the redhead settled into the driver’s seat next to her.

He glanced over, his smile having relaxed into something more ambivalent. He said, “I love that you haven’t changed a bit,” and began to pull out of the pick-up lane.

“It is one of my most charming qualities, I think.”

“How did Johnny convince you to come all this way?” he asked, and Isolde stifled a long-suffering sigh that tried to worm its way out of her.

“He told me what helpless idiots you are without him,” she replied. Shrugging out of her jacket, she pushed it into the back seat and turned the heat in the truck down. “Did a whole bit. You would have found it entertaining, I think. It was all Sol, you’re so tall and threatening, please help me. I hate that he knows exactly how I like to be complimented.”

“Well, he’d have to really pull out the stops to get you to come back and help Joseph,” Jacob acquiesced, with the same kind of visceral, gut-punch perception he had always operated and which Soli had expected and still hoped he wouldn’t apply.

Isolde’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Fuck you, she thought, but there was no venom, because he wasn’t wrong. She wouldn’t have come back if John hadn’t really tried, if he hadn’t made it obvious that he was desperate. It did bother her, a little, to see John like that—haphazard and urgent, scrabbling for a foothold wherever he could get one. She just hoped he wasn’t overshooting his shot with the mother of his unborn child.

“Yeah,” Sol said after a moment, “I guess he did.”

Jacob gave her a look. It was a look that said, come on now, Sol, because if there was one unfortunate thing about having dated Joseph Seed and worked with the baby brother for years on end, it was that Jacob—arguably the most perceptive and intelligent of the whole brood—had come to understand her quite well. So annoying.

“I’m glad you’re here,” is what he said after a minute. “Be nice to have a fresh face around, all things considered.”

“You mean all the killing.” Her words came out clipped, but if Jacob felt any particular way about it, it didn’t show on his face.

“Well,” he acquiesced, and that was all that came out of his mouth for at least two heartbeats.

Isolde narrowed her eyes, watching the redhead move methodically as he hit cruise control and settled back against his seat a bit.

She prompted, tightly, “Well?”

“Don’t give me that, Sol,” he cautioned her. “You can use that tone on Johnny and Joseph, but you can’t use it on me. We neither fuck nor run a business together.”

“I remember now why you’re unbearable. How silly of me, to have forgotten.”

“I was going to say,” Jacob continued, as though she had not spoken at all, “that the killing really shouldn’t be a point of contention for you.”

And then, with the kind of spiteful accuracy that she truly detested: “Of all people.”

Shut up. The words sat there, on the tip of her tongue, threatening. Only Jacob would get away speaking to her like this. She supposed that made them hearty exceptions for each other, didn’t it? All the same, the things that she had done—or rather, the things that Joseph had done, for her —were in the past, and long-since buried. Literally and figuratively.

“Here I was, thinking you were my favorite,” she replied primly, and this elicited a laugh out of Jacob, short and barked out but nonetheless genuine. “Tell me you didn’t volunteer to pick me up just so you could start a fight with me. Is it that boring, out there in God’s Country?”

“I never said I volunteered.”

“But you did,” she countered, “didn’t you?”

Jacob glanced at her, then focused his gaze back on the road. “God’s Country is pretty boring, right about now. But there’s been a bit of excitement.”

“Ah, yes,” she replied, foregoing her irritation with his little jab. “Why don’t we compare what John told me with the truth, then?”

“Sounds like a fun game to pass the time.”

Isolde had the feeling they’d at least have a lot to fill the time, at any rate.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Eden’s Gate was not what she had anticipated.

The cult aspect—that was one thing. She could deal with a cult. She could deal with two cults, even, which if what Jacob told her was accurate—and she assumed that it was, because he had no motive to lie to her—sounded like it was actively happening, or had just finished happening.

The compound’s yard looked like a graveyard. As the truck, guided by Jacob’s hands on the steering wheel, rolled in, Isolde took a moment to sweep her eyes over everything as meticulously as possible. Small, meek buildings, the white wiring of a long trellis stretching over the yard, and—blood. Splattered across some of the buildings. Sins in their most classical names, graffitied here and there.

It was dirty. Nothing looked well-insulated. The media would absolutely have had a fucking field day with this. What few people she saw out and about, milling around and regarding the truck’s arrival with quiet, venomous curiosity, might as well have been plucked straight out of the homeless shelter.

When Joseph had told her what his plans were, when he had started dropping tiny scraps of information—because he wanted her to ask for more, wanted to pique her interest—he had never told her it would be...Well.

This.

“This is a fucking joke,” Isolde said, without thinking, turning to look at Jacob. The redhead regarded her with an even-keel gaze, putting the truck in park and tilting his chin, almost defiantly.

“What is?” he asked, and it was sort of there—a tiny, tiny little threat. A demand. What’s funny, Isolde? What do you think is a joke? Surely, the eldest Seed had regarded many defectors and insurgents with the same kind of look. Surely, she knew, he was waiting for her to say something that would make her regret having voiced her opinion.

Purposefully, Isolde replied, “This place.” When Jacob exhaled out of his nose, sharp and impatient, she watched the muscle of his jaw flex, his teeth clenching; before he could open his mouth, she plunged on, “Jacob, you’re not a fucking idiot.”

“Thank you,” Jacob snipped, not sounding very grateful at all.

“The media would lose their fucking shit over this place. It would be a madhouse .”

The redhead sucked his teeth. “You really aren’t getting it, aren’t you?” he asked after a moment of silence had lapsed between them. “There won’t be any fuckin’ media, Isolde. Not if Joseph’s right. And he’s been right about everything else. There won’t be fuck all left to care about beyond your own life.”

“Yeah, except I have to care about them like they’re going to be here!” Isolde snapped. “That’s the whole reason I’m here, you know. In case. John sent me to do damage control because he knows you and Joseph are so tunnel-vision you don’t have any kind of back-up plan.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s funny. A back-up plan, for the collapse of the world as we know it.”

“Finally,” she bit out, “you get my sense of humor.” She grabbed the handle of the door, but before she opened it, she said, “ If Joseph’s right.”

Jacob stilled beside her, head cocked as though he were really listening to her, taking in her words. “What?”

“You said,” Isolde replied tartly, “ if Joseph’s right.”

She turned her head to look at him, trying to discern anything in his expression that might have let her glean some insight on where it was that Jacob really stood. Of all of the Seed children, he had always struck her as the least fanatical—devoted, surely. Structured and disciplined and rigorous and devoted, yes. But not in the way that John had been about Joseph, and maybe was still.

Of course, she saw nothing that indicated Jacob was going to bite the bait.

“Just remember,” Isolde told him, pushing the passenger door open and feeling the bite of winter dig straight into her bones, “ you said that, not me.”

She slid out of the passenger seat, grabbing her suitcase from the back seat and hauling it out. Jacob sighed from the front seat, passing a hand over his face before he climbed out of the driver’s seat and came around the front, stilling her hands over the handle of her suitcase.

“Joseph doesn’t know you’re here,” he told her, glossing over her little barb as though it had never happened. He disengaged her suitcase from the back of the truck with ease, lifting it over her head and keeping it out of the snow. “Just as a heads up.”

“He doesn’t—?” She felt the incredulous spike in her voice. “Bloody fucking hell, did you not tell him?”

“Why would I?” the redhead replied idly, beginning to walk toward the chapel without waiting for her. The implication lay there— why would I, when it’s so much more interesting to have not? —reminding Isolde that in many ways, Jacob Seed was still a Big Brother that did not so often enjoy bending to the will and request of his younger sibling.

She picked her way across the yard, stomping the snow off of her shoes before she stepped into the chapel that Jacob had disappeared into. It was empty, and dark; a heater ran, fruitless and futile, in the far corner. That’s going to change, she thought tiredly. I won’t be losing my fingers for this shithole.

“Look who I found at the airport,” Jacob announced to the figure standing at the front of the church. Isolde felt her insides twist with a strange kind of dreadful anticipation, because the second the figure turned around, she recognized him immediately. Even dimly backlit by the cold winter light filtering through the symbol carved out of the front of the chapel, even after so much time apart. Of course, she thought, she would have recognized him anywhere.

Joseph said, “Isolde,” like he wasn’t at all surprised to find her there.

“Hello, Joseph,” she greeted, managing to keep the anxiety out of her voice. “I’ve only just learned John did not choose to inform you of my impending arrival.” And apparently, neither did God.

“No,” the man agreed. He was bundled up in a dark-colored sweater, high-necked, the hair pulled back from his face. “But I haven’t spoken to John recently. And what did he send you for?”

Isolde blinked at him, brows lifting on her face. “Pardon?”

“What purpose?” he reiterated. “To what end?”

It was so completely and utterly dismissive that Isolde thought she had hallucinated Joseph’s blatant disrespect. The Joseph she had known had, at least, more grace and tact when it came to being a thoughtless bastard.

“To what—?” Fuck you fuck you fuck you, that vicious, still-wounded thing inside of her whispered, furious. Fuck you, you stupid smug fucker, fuck you so fucking hard. To what end? He couldn’t have possibly descended into sheer stupidity as well as delusional grandeur, could he have?

Jacob said, almost in an effort to mediate, “Johnny thought we could use the support.”

“To what end?” Soli demanded, incredulous. “You’ve got half of Montana’s homeless population dragging their emaciated corpses through the snow outside, Joseph. What ‘purpose’ do you think I’m here for?”

Joseph’s eyes narrowed. His expression remained serene otherwise, no flex of irritated muscle that she could see. He’d always been nearly impossible for her to read—plenty of times she’d said things just to push his buttons, just to see him flinch, just to see what he’d do. It had both pleased and infuriated him, then.

Now, she hoped only for the latter.

“You’re here for PR, then,” is what he said, at last. “A fall-back. Because John has doubts.”

“Taking one quick look at your congregation, I can see why.”

“Faith and devotion are not always the easiest routes,” Joseph replied, lifting his chin in a tiny spark of defiance. “And they are. Devoted.”

“They are,” Isolde said tightly, “ filthy, Joseph.”

There was a tiny, almost imperceptible click, and she realized with a sense of satisfaction that it was Joseph’s molars, setting and grinding together. The moment stretched between the two of them like that, drawn tight and tense by her blatant disdain and Joseph’s refusal to acknowledge that they probably needed her, and finally Jacob cleared his throat.

“So glad,” he said lightly, rubbing his hands together. “So glad to have you back around, Sol. Why don’t I show you where you’ll be staying?”

Isolde sucked her teeth. “Fine,” she replied tartly. “And it ought to have a better fucking heater than this.”

“Whatever you want, princess.”

As Jacob swung her suitcase over his shoulder, heading for the door that led out through the back of the chapel, Isolde cinched her coat tight around her waist and followed.

“Soli,” Joseph said, the utterance of a nickname so few had ever been allowed to use for her grinding her movements to a halt. She took in a short, sharp breath through her nose, turning to look at the man over her shoulder.

He was regarding her curiously, his eyes taking a relaxed, leisurely sweep over her despite the unpleasant interaction they had just endured.

“What, Joseph?” she asked, her words coming out short and biting.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” The corner of his mouth ticked upward. “I’m glad you’re here.”

It wasn’t what she had expected or anticipated. Even in a perfect world where they were absolutely cordial with each other, she would haven’t expected this. The whole thing had to be some kind of game: already, the mental chess game had begun, and she had been caught lagging unpleasantly behind on the first move.

So she said, “Good,” and turned back around, marching devoutly after Jacob.

“You should be.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He had been this close.

John hadn’t intended on being as loud as he was, when he got out of his car. But the sight of Elliot wandering out of her front door, barefoot and in nothing but shorts and t-shirt, had inspired quite a bit of concern; he’d still waited, watching her. Watching her walk out to the fence that he knew led out to the pastures and eventually the woods, and then stood there.

Much like the other night, she only stood. He couldn’t see her do anything except be there—standing, watching the woods, her face relaxed and serene.

It filled him with the same kind of dread it had when he’d seen her do it through the windows, standing at the top of the stairs with her face lax and her eyes open. Seeing it again, he was now more certain than ever it was a recent development, and that she had not been sleep-walking back in Hope County; at the very least, not when he had been around her.

And red. Her hair was so red—the same kind of coppery-ginger that he’d seen the man in their family photos sporting, the man who had been entirely absent from any other photos past what seemed to be the age of eight. Her hair was so red, and so long, sprawling down to her shoulder blades and sweeping across the thin white cotton of her sleep shirt. 

When ten minutes passed and he saw no change, he thought, that just won’t fucking do, and opened the car door, shutting it behind him with a new sense of urgency. He hadn’t wanted to get her like this when something was so clearly unsettling her, but if that’s what it had to be, then—

But the front door of her house opened, and he heard the woman that he thought had to be Elliot’s mother calling for her, and he’d stopped himself. It would have been worse if he’d been halfway down the drive to her, but this far away he could duck behind the Honda he’d been calling his home and act like he hadn’t gotten out at all.

Somewhere down the street—down in the far end of the widely-spaced row of old money houses—the sound of a car starting and pulling away echoed.

It could have been nothing, he thought. It could have been, but what if it wasn’t?

What if it wasn’t nothing?

John listened to the sound of Elliot muddle through a response to her mother, words slurring tiredly as she stepped through the snow. It wasn’t until he heard the front door of the house close and the voices fade out of existence that he finally allowed himself to climb back into his car, turning the key in the ignition and cranking the heat up.

He had been this close to her. As he sat in his car, listening to the heat tick against the cold metal of the engine, John thought that maybe he would not be able to be as careful as he would have liked with this whole thing. Time was rapidly running out, and things were only going to get worse the longer he spent dallying.

Besides—if memory served him correctly, Elliot had always slept better with him there. Even if it wasn’t the most ideal reunion he could have pictured, he thought it was as close as he was going to get.

It certainly wasn’t how he anticipated meeting his mother-in-law, at any rate.

In the console, the rattling vibration of plastic on plastic broke him out of his thoughts. John fished around absently, eyes burning with exhaustion, until he could pull the cell phone out and regard the unregistered number for a moment. It had to be either Jacob or Joseph, given they were the only ones who had access to this phone number, but that thought was oddly uncomfortable.

He hit the green accept button, clearing his throat. “Hello?”

“John. How are you doing?”

It was Joseph’s voice, familiar but altogether strange, too. They hadn’t spoken before he’d left the compound, and Hope County—in part because Joseph had been deep in his singular loneliness, convening with God, and in part because John had not wanted to think about the conversation they would have had regarding bringing Elliot back. There was too much there to unpack, really; Joseph’s dislike (hatred?) of what she had done was abundantly clear, but his elder brother couldn’t find it in himself to deny, either, the importance of returning her back to the fold.

“I’m alright,” John replied, cautiously. He thought about whether or not to mention Elliot’s sleepwalking, and then decided against it. “How are things at the compound?”

“They’re good.” There was a pause. “You sent Isolde here.”

It was a statement, not a question. John pressed his mouth into a thin line. He wondered if Isolde had been polite—and then reminded himself that it was Isolde, and no amount of bad blood or past history would ever get her to shut up.

So he said, “She’s the next best thing, after me.”

“I see.” Joseph seemed to want to say something else, his voice lingering absently on the other end of their phone call: but if he was going to say what it was, he didn’t make any move to, and John felt that nervous, anxious energy pushing up high in his throat.

“It’s important to me,” John managed out after a minute, “that you and the others are well taken care of while I’m here dealing with…”

“Our wayward lamb.”

The tightness in Joseph’s voice was not lost on John, and he cleared his throat.

“Right. But I’m going to be—touching base with her soon, and we’ll be back on the road in no time.”

Touching base didn’t sound quite right. It didn’t feel quite as momentous as it was going to feel, he thought—but making contact also didn’t hit the same. It was going to be near-disastrous, he was sure, no matter how he went about it.

At first, anyway. And then she would understand, of course, that everything he had done had been for them; everything had been done for her sake, for her future with him, and she would finally, finally be fucking grateful.

“See that you do, and are,” Joseph said after a minute. “We need our brother here, John. You, and our sister and nephew.”

Our sister, Joseph said. Something about that didn’t feel good at all, John thought, but he swallowed back the uneasy bile in his throat.

“Of course,” he replied after a moment. “I understand completely.”

“Goodnight, John.”

The call clicked off before John could even open his mouth to reply, leaving him with only the dead air and the stifling silence of steady snowfall around him.

Good night indeed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Elliot awoke that morning, it was to the sound of conversation downstairs and Boomer’s frantic barking.

She struggled out of bed, eyes blurry from exhaustion. Her body ached, dull and faintly reminiscent of her late-night jaunt out into the snow; she pushed the door open, only for Boomer to instantly race down the stairs.

“Elliot,” her mother called, her voice pitching high with frustration, “ please come control your beast.”

Boomer was barking mad. He was barking angry, the kind of vicious alert noise he made when he saw someone he did not like. Elliot barely managed to collect herself to get down the stairs to apologize profusely to whoever it was her hound was currently yelling at when she stopped short at the end of the stairs.

It was John. John, sitting on her couch. John, coming to a stand when she came down the stairs. John, hair tousled out from its normally perfectly-gelled slick-back style, John in street clothes, John John John existing in her space and breathing her air and flashing her a stupid smile that she wanted to immediately punch in.

Her brain fizzed and sputtered to a stop. She had thought, should this moment ever come, that she would feel scared. Panicked. But she didn’t feel any of those things. She only felt—

Furious.

The kind of strange, quiet fury that arrived like death, sudden and violent and crashing over her in waves until all she could think about was getting her hands around John’s throat.

She was vividly, ferociously reminded of the drag of John’s finger along her sternum. Yours must surely be the sin of Wrath.

It felt something close to nirvana, though, in a strange, intoxicating way. All this time she had spent being worried that someone was hunting her, someone like Burke—desperate to Do Right by the law—or maybe even the Seeds themselves, because some kind of cosmic force had been on their side for reasons even she couldn’t formulate. But now?

Now, the man who had been the apex predator, the man who had dragged her through a drug-riddled nightmare, the man who had lied and lied and lied endlessly, ceaselessly, who had

(I love you, Elliot)

pretended to give a shit about the things that she wanted, was here.

Within reach.

It was a different kind of adrenaline rush, one that she hadn’t realized she had missed until her attention had zeroed in directly on John and the imminent threat that he posed. The things he could tell her mother, the things she had worked so hard to keep at bay and far behind her—John was the manifestation of all of those things, and she was fucking mad.

“Elliot,” her mother said, breaking her from the strange, dreamlike haze her fury had plunged her into, “John tells me that he’s your...”

And then Scarlet’s voice trailed off.

“What?” Elliot bit out, crushing the bones of the words between her teeth. “ John says he’s my what, mother?”

John exhaled through his mouth. There was an infuriatingly charming smile planted on his face, but if she looked close enough, she could see lines of tension there, too; she wondered if he’d really thought her mother would be a safer bet than her. “Ell,” he began, the nickname grinding Elliot’s good nature to a halt, “I think it’s important that we—”

But before he could finish his thought, Elliot interjected, “Shut. The. Fuck. Up. ”

Boomer’s barking had dwindled into low, threatening growls, his hackles fully raised like little pin needles along his spine. He was laser-focused on John, with one ear cocked in her direction, waiting. On the couch, John shifted uncomfortably.

“Bunny,” her mother said, her voice tight and her mouth set in a prim line at the expletive she’d just barked out, “tell the hound to be quiet.”

“Sit,” Elliot ordered, which did not equate to quiet, but which Boomer obeyed anyway. She thought maybe she would have been more stressed about it if she were not fully confident in her ability to heel him, should the need arise.

“I only wanted,” John tried again, raising his hands like he was trying not to spook a wild bronco, “for us to have a moment—”

“It’s nice to want things,” she bit out viciously. “There are a lot of things I want, too.”

Her mother came to a stand, clearing her throat and instantly drawing their eyes.

“Mr. Seed,” Scarlet said, her voice mild, “please take a seat. You’re raising my blood pressure, looming in my vision like that.”

John took in a breath and then re-seated himself, planting a smile on his face. “John is fine, Mrs. Honeysett.”

Her mother gave him a scathing once-over before she said, very pointedly, “Mr. Seed tells me he is your husband.”

It might as well have been a slap to the face. Elliot was viciously reminded of their last interaction—the threat of murder, the oh-so-satisfying sting of her palm connecting with his face. The last well-and-true violation John had committed against their wobbly, new-born trust.

Her stomach lurched. The kind of nausea that came with rage welled up inside of her, and she blinked furiously, wishing for once that the adrenaline did not make her so very focused and hyper-aware and instead that she could actively choose to check-out of reality.

“He’s a fucking liar,” was what ended up coming out of her mouth, because it wasn’t incriminating either way. John Seed was a liar. A deceiver. And while they might —maybe, tenuously, questionably—be married in the eyes of the law (something which Elliot could, unfortunately, not prove one way or the other), that didn’t mean fuck all.

“At the very least, you won’t be having a baby out of wedlock,” her mother continued, her voice tight with some unreadable emotion that implied she was not pleased by this development at all. She was eyeing Elliot, studying her, and for once a scolding for her poor language did not ensue. “I imagine you’ll want a moment to discuss in private what our next steps are.”

There are no next steps, Elliot thought viciously, loosening the vice-clench of her hands and feeling the blood come rushing, stinging back into her palms. She watched the corner of John’s mouth tick upward, amused; infuriatingly handsome, per usual, so much so that she wanted to just punch his fucking teeth in. There are no next steps for John Seed, not with me.

“Yeah,” she said finally, eyes narrowing, gritting the words out between her teeth. “I would love to have a moment alone with John.”

The casual smile on John’s face downturned, just a little. It was the kind of uneasy expression that came with getting what he wanted so easily, too easily, that he didn’t know if it was really what he wanted anymore. Good. She wanted him to squirm.

“I’ll be upstairs,” Scarlet replied, sweeping past her. “And you just call if you need me, bunny.”

Elliot made a small noise of agreement. The tense, drawn line of her mother’s shoulders implied a distinct dislike, and she could already feel the judgments welling up—things that John would certainly deserve. Things that her mother would wait to slip into idle, polite conversation, if it ever got to that point. Which she would do her fucking damnedest to make sure that it didn’t.

As soon as her mother had drifted wraithlike up the stairs, a moment of silence stretched between them. John came to a stand, keeping his hands up and in plain view as he took a few steps forward, inspiring in Boomer a few short, vicious barks that reminded him their friendship had been temporary and fleeting.

“Ell,” John began, “I know that you’re—”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

He exhaled, once, out of his nose. “ Elliot,” he tried again, “a lot of things were said—”

Elliot felt the anger spike in her violently. “Oh, were there?”

“My God, are you going to let me finish a sentence?”

“I should rip your fucking tongue out of your mouth, you lying rat,” Elliot snapped viciously. “What are you doing here? Why are you here? How did you fucking—how are the police not—the government —”

John flashed her a half-cocked smile that she was sure had inspired homicidal tendencies before, and would do so again. “Are you really that surprised they weren’t able to keep us?”

“This is not the fucking time,” she hissed, pitching her voice low, “to be playing games with me, John Seed.”

“No game,” he promised as he mimicked her volume. “We found a way out. I’m presuming, not unlike the same strategy with which you found a way out, isn’t that right?”

She felt her teeth clench. Of course he fucking knows, something inside of her whispered viciously. Of course he knows, he’s not stupid about things like that. Just everything else.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said finally. “You have no way of knowing that Burke didn’t send me off to a therapist and let me go.”

“Sure, Elliot,” John murmured, his voice slick, “Cameron Burke, U.S. Federal Marshal, shipped you off to a therapist who found out you were perfectly well-adjusted after caving a man’s face in with a blunt object and now you’re here, living in bumfuck nowhere Georgia. How’s mama Honeysett feel about that, anyway?” He tilted his chin, eyes sly. “About all the killing—”

She swung without thinking. It was a knee-jerk reaction, no thought and no pre-meditation, only pure and unadulterated gut-instinct to impact her fist with his face. Unfortunately, John seemed to have been prepared for it, and stepped back just in time, catching her wrist.

“I’m a quick study,” John murmured, his voice pitching low into a threat, “and I’m not interested in losing any teeth.”

“Brave of you to put your hand so close to my face,” Elliot snapped in a hiss. She jerked her wrist out of his grip like it had burned her, and it might as well have—the contact of skin, not unlike the ways John had touched and grabbed her before, when he’d had a right to.

Regarding her warily, he dropped his hand to his side. “You ran away with our baby.”

“I would hardly call leaving you to your own devices as I made a leisurely departure with government officials ‘running away’.”

“You ran away with our baby,” he repeated, cocking his head to the side. “I think the exact words were ‘you should have considered that before you fucking came inside me, you cunt’.”

Elliot’s mouth twisted. She was trying not to smile, because despite the absolute absurdity of the situation—the punch of those words still felt satisfying, in a strange, twisted way. Even though it was for that exact reason that she found herself in this situation now: pregnant, and struggling to feel like she was really that, like she was anything more than a temporary vessel for the baby who didn’t quite feel real to her yet.

John’s eyes flickered. “Find that amusing?”

“Yeah,” she replied sharply, “I think it’s some of my best work. Short of slapping you in the face. I do wish I’d made it a closed-fist punch, if I’m being honest.”

He seemed pleased at that, as though the reminder of her Wrath was a comforting familiarity, and she wished she hadn’t fallen so easily back into their old cadence. Steeling herself, she said, “You need to leave.”

“I think I’m exactly where I need to be,” John assured her. “With my unborn child, and my wife —”

“Don’t you fucking—”

“—and my mother-in-law,” he finished demurely, “who surely knows everything about what we’ve been up to these last few weeks. Doesn’t she?”

Elliot stared at him. No was the correct and truthful answer. No, her mother did not know what had been happening these last few weeks, was blissfully unaware of the extent of Eden’s Gate and their evil as well as the things that Elliot herself had done. If her mother had known what she’d done—if her mother had known the things John had done—she would have been horrified. Disgusted. Repulsed.

I’m it for you, John had said, and

(maybe that was true, maybe he was the only person who would ever be able to get her, accept her, love her)

fuck him for saying so.

“The irony of you threatening me with pure honesty isn’t lost on me. And I don’t know what you’re hoping to accomplish,” Elliot said sourly, after a moment. “Blackmail isn’t exactly the way to a girl’s heart, and certainly doesn’t convince me of your qualifications as a father.”

“Desperate times,” John allowed, tilting his chin up playfully, “desperate measures. And it isn’t blackmailing, per se. You could have just as easily told your mother everything that had happened and I’d have nothing working in my favor.”

But of course, he had known her better than that. John had seen the way killing Kian had affected her, the way it affected her when she was faced with the mountain of bodies she had left behind her, the shame and disconcertion at finding something wretched and wrathful inside of herself and liking it.

So he hadn’t gambled at all, really, and she supposed that she wasn’t that surprised.

He paused, studying her for a moment, before he added, “Not to mention, you are carrying my baby.”

My baby, something hissed inside of Elliot, wretched and protective, something that had otherwise been dormant inside of her up until now; not your baby, my baby.

“All I want,” he continued as he kept his voice low, sauntering closer, trying to do that thing that he did where he crowded up against her and made her brain go fuzzy, “is a chance.”

“Fuck you,” Elliot snapped. “I should have throttled you the second you walked through my fucking door.”

“But you didn’t,” he pointed out. The arrogance bled through and into his voice, bright and sharp. “And you haven’t. And that’s because you lo—”

This time, Elliot’s swing wasn’t anticipated at all, and she landed a sharp, open-palm slap to the side of John’s face. He reached up, working his jaw, his eyes narrowed as that tell-tale anger colored his expression. Good, she thought venomously, watching the red bloom just under his skin, good, I hope it fucking hurts, you stupid fucker.

“Next time you presume to tell me how I feel about you,” she warned, “it will be closed-fist. And I won’t fucking miss.”

John’s eyes flashed with something dangerous and angry. But he said, “I’m glad I didn’t break that wrathful streak out of you,” with no absence of affection-tipped venom.

“Elliot?”

It was Scarlet’s voice, drifting down from the stairs. Elliot gave John one hard, vicious look before she turned to see her mother standing at the landing where the two stairways converged at the top of the main staircase, regarding them with a critical eye.

“Have you sorted it all out?” she asked after a moment. “All of this…business?”

“I’m going to be in town for a while longer,” John said, before Elliot could formulate a response, inspiring in her yet another bout of homicidal rage that she had to quickly reel in. “I’m determined to make this work, no matter how long it takes.” And then, in what he surely thought was a very charming gesture: “I’m very pleased to get to know my mother-in-law a little better, as well.”

“Ah,” Scarlet replied. She then refused to elaborate. 

“I hope,” John continued after a moment, “that’s alright with you, Mrs. Honeysett.”

Her brow arched upward, looking between Elliot and John expectantly, making it clear that was all she had to say on that. It was satisfying, to watch her mother operate as she always did without even knowing the true nature of John Seed. It was the least he deserved

“I really think you should just go,” Elliot said tightly as she turned her attention to him. “Back to Hope County, I mean. Your brothers probably need your help.”

“They’re fine,” John said, feigning sweetness despite the red sting of her slap still fresh on his skin and her mother's very apparent disdain, “and nothing is more important to me than you and the baby, Elliot.”

Saccharine and venomous. Fuck, I hate him.

“I’ll get a room in the motel here,” he continued, brightly. “That way we’ll have plenty of time to spend together. Catch up. Has Elliot told you much about Hope County these last few weeks, Mrs. Honeysett?”

"Fine," Elliot bit out, just as her mother cut in, "That won't do at all," and they looked at each other with the same amount of wounded incredulity.

"He'll stay with us." Her mother's voice was decisive. "Not in that run-down motel."

"Mother," Elliot bit out.

"I won't have a man traipsing in and out of my house at all hours of the night, living like some vagabond," Scarlet asserted. "Especially not the father of my grandchild. And you certainly don’t expect me to explain that to people."

Elliot could feel the headache blistering behind her eyes. She didn't even need to look at John to know he was grinning, ear to ear, like a fucking Cheshire Cat. It was the blatant and unimpressive downside to her mother remaining completely in the dark about what had happened in Hope County—and if John had thought he had leverage over her before, he certainly thought so now. There was no way Scarlet would have insisted he stay if she really knew.

This was bad. Devastatingly, infuriatingly, chop-her-hair-off-and-run-away bad. The kind of bad that only happened in horror comedies. Suddenly, she thought that dyeing her hair had been the most reasonable thing to do, and that her margin for acting out had increased exponentially.

"That's so kind of you," John said pleasantly from behind her. "Thank you."

"It is kind of me," was her mother's clipped agreement. "Make sure you move your…" Scarlet gestured vaguely with one elegant hand. "Vehicle behind the garage, Mr. Seed. I do not need my driveway looking like a scrapyard." Her head tilted, eyes narrowed. "Bunny, help me prepare the guest room."

She resisted the urge to sigh, knowing that if there was one thing her mother would not tolerate, it was an insolent child. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Her mother gave the two of them one more leisurely, scathing sweep-over with her eyes, making a noise that bordered skillfully between discontent and acquiescence before she departed up the stairs to leave them alone once again.

“Do we really need separate rooms?” John mused, as though he had not hunted her down five states away and showed up unannounced at her home after systematically lying to her. “I mean—you are carrying my child.”

There it was, that little spark again, pure defiance: my baby, I’m carrying them, you’ve done nothing, like all of a sudden this baby had become more hers than it had ever felt before the second John tried to stake his claim on it. “I’m going to punch your fucking teeth in,” she hissed, “if you don’t get the fuck out of swinging range.”

“I did so miss our rapport.”

“Final warning.”

He flashed her a grin that was all teeth, and she regretted, in fact, having given him a warning at all; it seemed that even though their time together had been short, old habits did die hard.

The brunette swung around on his heel, pulling the keys out of his pocket and sauntering toward the door. He truly did embody the cat that had caught the canary, more so than Elliot would have liked to admit, turning to look at her through playfully narrowed eyes. “In case you were wondering—”

“I’m not.”

“I like the red,” he finished, voice bleeding with self-satisfaction, “bunny.”

It was good, for his sake, that he had waited until he was out of reach to say so.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“ That one, Elliot?”

“Mama,” she gritted out, her fingers digging viciously into the fabric of the sheets, “please, I do not want to have this conversation.”

“I just think,” her mother amended curtly as she passed a scathing look over the brunette Elliot was currently considering shoving through the stained glass of the front door, “you could have at least picked the tall one.”

Elliot stared at her mother from across the king-sized guest bed, blinking rapidly. “You mean...Jacob?” Ugh, she thought, remembering the way John’s eldest brother had grinned at her when she’d threatened to kill him and said, yeah, you think you can, little girl? Fucker.

“Is that the redhead?”

“Yes.”

Scarlet nodded sagely. “You have to be mindful of who you pick to build a life with,” her mother intoned dutifully. “Genes, and the like. Both your daddy and I are tall, and you’re so short, honey. You want to set the baby up for success, don’t you?”

“I’m not—” Absurd. Absolutely absurd, this conversation she was having, not only that her mother thought she would just have her fucking pick of Seed brothers to be impregnated by, let alone that she would ever fucking want Jacob Seed that close to her. “I’m not discussing whether or not I’d let Jacob Seed into my bed, mother.”

“Well,” Scarlet replied primly, smoothing out the comforter meticulously with her hand, “John’s quite...alternative, anyway. I just never knew you liked...” Her voice trailed off again, and she gestured vaguely.

Elliot arched a brow at her. “Liked?”

“That,” her mother finished after a moment, and then sighed, like it had been excruciating for her to say so. It wasn’t as though they’d had many heart-to-hearts about what kind of boy Elliot liked, anyway. “You know, the—tattoos. And whatnot.”

“They don’t bother me one way or another, mama.”

“I find your taste in men quite eclectic. What happened to that nice young man you went to high school with? And all of those school dances? He was nice. Didn’t you two work together at the sheriff’s office?”

The last person that Elliot wanted to discuss in terms of a romantic relationship was the one man she’d dated in high school. Staci Pratt had been evacuated with the others, and was hopefully living his life with a steadfast therapist somewhere far from Hope County, just like the rest of the Resistance. She cleared her throat.

“I’m not having a baby with Staci Pratt.”

“I know that.”

“Can we please,” she started, “can we please stop talking about this? I really don’t even want John staying here, but you insisted, and—”

Scarlet crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. “Well, why not? Don’t you like him? Enough to marry him and have a baby with him, anyway.”

I don’t, that vicious little voice inside of Elliot hissed, I didn’t say yes, I didn’t want to marry him, I don’t think I even want to marry anyone, stop talking about it, please.

It made her sick to her stomach, to think about John being her husband, to think about the fact that she was having his baby, and maybe that was why she hadn’t been able to feel quite so much like herself as of late; maybe that was why she had been feeling so disconnected from the baby, because she hadn’t quite reconciled how they had come to be in the first place.

She hadn’t reconciled that she had been so, so, incredibly, wretchedly stupid.

“Is there something you aren’t telling me?” Scarlet asked after a moment, watching her from across the bed, her mouth turning into a firmer, more deep-set frown. “You seemed awfully unhappy to have him here.”

“We didn’t leave on good terms,” Elliot muttered, clearing her throat and busying herself with pulling pillowcases onto the pillows. Fuck, she couldn’t believe she was doing this. Making up a bed in her guest room for John fucking Seed.

Her mother moved around to the foot of the bed, stepping carefully over Boomer so as not to disturb him where he lay. She paused at the door, just long enough without saying anything to draw Elliot’s attention back to her, before she exhaled softly.

“It’s Christmas next week,” her mother said after moment, completely ruining the illusion she’d had of her mother actually asking her something meaningful. “The perfect time to practice patience.”

Elliot felt her mouth twist viciously, turning away and dropping the pillows on the bed so that her mother wouldn’t see. The last thing she needed to give John Seed was patience. Least of all Christmas-spirit-induced patience. He deserved far, far less, and much worse, than that.

“Don’t forget about your doctor’s appointment,” her mother called as she departed the room, “and hurry down to eat something before you run your beast.”

It was better this way, anyway. To have John here. If he wasn’t in the custody of Federal agents, the next best place he could be was where she could see him—keep tabs on him, keep aware of what kinds of shit he was up to. And maybe he’d get so tired with her mother’s particular brand of vitriol that he’d fucking leave.

I should be so lucky.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“What is this?”

Kajsa’s voice broke her out of her reverie. She had been watching the snowfall, flecking against the window in crystalline geometrics, methodical and variable all at the same time—but the surprise peaking in her harbinger’s voice was enough to draw her eyes away.

The heater in the car rattled, straining against the cold temperatures. Kajsa’s dark eyes had narrowed, and when Helmi followed her gaze, it was to the front of the mother’s house. Their little interloper was heading up the front steps, having apparently come from behind the two-story shop and garage to head back inside.

And then he let himself in.

“He is moving quickly, this little snake of ours,” Kajsa murmured, her voice flecked with amusement. “I thought he’d be exercising more caution.”

Helmi made a low noise. This was...displeasing, to say the least. They had been counting on John’s interference being minimal, given that he was away from home and all of his little pets. Apparently, it had only made him more bold.

And that just wouldn’t do at all.

“You will go back,” the black-haired woman beside her announced, decisively.

“What?” Helmi asked, brows furrowing together at the center of her forehead. “Back to Hope County? But—I should be here, with you. My place is—I belong with you. What about...”

Kajsa leaned back against her seat, her eyes never once having left the house. As Helmi’s voice trailed off, unused to presenting distress or dislike of a decision made by her superior, the woman’s jaw worked absently, the brush of her dark, sooty lashes caressing the top of her cheekbones. Singularly devastating and beautiful, as always, though in moments like this Helmi wished it weren’t so distracting.

“I can open our mother to the influence on my own,” she said at last, and finally turned her slate-gray gaze to Helmi. “I want you to return to our family back in Montana. Do whatever you would like, but make sure you are making them sweat. ”

She turned in her seat now, so that they were facing each other, taking Hel’s face in her hands. The pads of Kajsa’s thumbs swept across her cheeks, affectionate.

“Strangle them,” Kajsa murmured. “I want you to be my tourniquet. Stop the bleeding where you can. Tighten so ferociously around those apostates that John Seed will have no choice but to abandon our mother and leave her to me.”

I don’t want to leave, Helmi thought, watching the woman’s dark eyes—so dark, so dark, faded and distant while her pupils ate away at her irises. I don’t want to leave you.

“It is best.” Her voice pitched, soft and low, almost lulling. “For the end. For our winter, Helmi. I do not want you to go, and I will grieve, just like you will.” She tilted her head, drawing Helmi’s eyes to the wisps of dark hair spilling like black moonlight against the porcelain of her throat. “And what do we say to our grief?”

“Sorrow shared,” Helmi whispered, “sorrow halved.”

“That is exactly right.” Kajsa leaned back, the curve of her dark mouth, feline and sharp, wrenching right on Helmi’s resolve. “You will go for me, won’t you?”

I don’t want to, she thought again, the idea of leaving Kajsa alone to sit in the dark, to peel apart the mother’s layers one by one, unthread her, a distressing one. They had never been so far apart. I don’t want to be away from you.

“Helmi.”

“I will,” she managed out at last. “For you.” I would do anything, for you.

Kajsa’s smile widened, razor-sharp.

“And that is why," the woman murmured, "you are perfect to me."

[foxtophat]

hello hello hello

i got thrown off my groove for a month there doing irl shit but i finally sat down and posted this piece of mercy fic that i’ve been sitting on for like a month. it’s all about john and kim hanging out and bonding so that’s fun!!!

i have a couple of ideas for stories but i’m not QUITE SURE how many of them are going to actually get posted. i might do like a yearly synopsis and put it in the series, writing out what happens between stories and stuff so when i reference shit it isn’t out of the blue, BUT ALSO i am lazy and it’s a miracle mercyverse has gotten this much from me, so lets not try to rock the boat huh???

anyway this is a story about john and kim falling into a cave. it’s like a bottle episode except the bottle is like a large intestine.  i hope you like it!!! if you do, consider reblogging this post, or sharing the link, or kudosing or commenting or liking or subscribing or SMASHING THAT BELL

as usual, the story is under the cut for those of you who want to stay on tumblr for some godforsaken reason

Kim had thought that she was doing Nick and John a favor when she first offered to go cache-hunting with them. After all, Grace and Carmina had their hands full working on the yard's shooting range, and there hadn't been anything better to do than dig a couple of holes out in the woods. She'd figured, why not? An extra set of hands could speed things up, and she could keep them focused on digging instead of bickering.

Of course, now that she's out here with them, she regrets ever having offered. As it turns out, their method of cache-hunting involves incessantly goading one another into a fight, trading places between aggressive pessimism and irritatingly fake optimism whenever it might serve to piss the other off more. She's given up on trying to stop it; after all, it's not too much worse than what they say while mending fences and hauling scrap. It's just that the distance between them means that they're arguing at a headache-inducing level.

At the very least, Kim had hoped for some kind of method they could fall back on, but at three hours in, they've all but given up. She supposes the first two caches had been pretty easy to find, being in areas where the terrain hasn't changed much — but this neck of the woods has definitely seen some shifting. Between the rock slides and massive knots of collapsed trees, the steep hillside looks more like a beaver dam than the picturesque hiking trail it probably used to be.

"I'm starting to think that Jacob was full of shit," Nick says, as if he hasn't been reiterating the sentiment for the last thirty minutes. "There's no way we're gonna find anything out here."

Nick might be right, but Kim isn't about to gang up on John right now. She's been mostly staying out of it as the two of them argue about Jacob's map coordinates; why get involved now?

She ignores them and instead picks her way up the hillside towards one of the many uprooted trees nearby. Just like the last dozen trees she's checked, this one doesn't hold a barrel in its roots, nor do any of them have any damn sign indicating where they should be looking. Whatever marker Jacob might've left, paranoid bastard that he was, it's definitely been destroyed by the apocalypse.

"I told you that this wasn't going to be easy," John says. "There's half a mile of trail to search, and there's only three of us. This isn't some pasture outside town —"

"When I asked you if we should bring Grace and Carmina along, you said they would just get in the way! Now here you are, telling me we need more people!"

"If they were here, who do you think Grace would blame if Carmina got a goddamn splinter or scraped her knee? How do you still not get that she is actively looking for a reason to shoot me?"

"At this point, I'm looking for a reason, so I don't know what you're expecting!"

Kim has to admit, they're both making pretty good points. She just wishes they wouldn't make it sound like the start of a fistfight.

John's sigh is especially theatrical, and Kim hears the leaves crunch underfoot as he begins to stalk up the hill after her. He's probably going to try passing her, just to get space from Nick, but he really shouldn't bother. They should at least stop for something to eat and some water, and then they can figure out whether or not expanding the search zone is a good idea. They should probably reconsider their current "poke around and hope" method, too.

Setting her sights on a stout, dead tree with its roots partially torn up, Kim decides to make that the last straw. If she's got any luck at all, the cache will be tangled up in the tree's roots, and she'll be able to gloat about finding it for the rest of forever.

"Don't get too excited," John says, catching up to her as he runs away from Nick.

"Too late for that," Kim teases. "My hopes are at an all-time high. I'm about to be crushed by the disappointment."

"Fantastic," John grunts, rolling his eyes.

He lets her take the first approach on the tree, which juts awkwardly out of the ground at an acute angle. Its scraggly branches are covered in dry needles, and the partially exposed root system seems to have rotted from rain. There are no other trees for a good couple of yards in any direction, so this tree must've gotten the brunt of the worst nuclear weather.

"We should take a break," Nick shouts from halfway down the hill. "I need a goddamn drink!"

"I told him this would be a waste of time," John grumbles. "We could have taken any other location, even the one at the goddamn compound, and had better luck than out here."

"Well, we're here now," Kim replies. "Come on, maybe the cache is tangled up in the roots or something."

John reluctantly follows Kim as she tests the spongier, damp soil around the rotting tree's base. It's clear he's already given up, but that only makes Kim more determined to find something worth the trip out here — at the very least, so that she can rub it in John's pessimistic face. He can't be a sour bastard forever.

No barrel in the root system, of course. All Kim finds is molding wood and the flash of exposed rock. It's just muddy enough that Kim's going to have to scrub her boots when they get back. From here, she can see the slope of the hillside, and the trees that slump with their tops pointed in her direction. It's like they're telling her, go back!

"Please talk Nick into giving this up," John insists, lingering right behind her and scowling at the roots that have betrayed both of them.

"I mean, we've only been out here for two hours. There's plenty of time to find something." Kim crouches down to check the rocky substrate for anything interesting. "Look on the bright side, at least we don't have to dig."

"I think you two are blinded by that bright side of yours." John sighs, leaning against the tree and glaring down in Nick's direction. "You know that the interstate is only a half-day hike from here, right? This is the exact sort of place Jacob would've stashed passports, money — bug-out kits to abandon the county, that kind of thing. It's not like he buried more coffee and rice out here."

"So is that your new theory? Jacob was planning escape routes for you guys?"

John frowns. "It's one of them."

Kim stands and comes around to join him by the trunk. She debates on invoking Jacob's memory any more than she already has; he seems to have a habit of upsetting John even from the grave. She gives the tree trunk a little kick as she considers pressing him, knocking some mud from her boot tread.

Her curiosity takes a backseat as the world lurches uncomfortably beneath them. She catches herself against the trunk and looks towards Nick, who's picking his way up towards them. Only now does she notice that the trees in this direction also lean inwards, towards the lone tree they're currently beside.

John catches on at the same time, hissing under his breath before hollering a warning. "It's a goddamn sinkhole, Nick, watch out!"

The inconvenience turns into real fear as Kim considers the terrain. With all the caves littering the mountains around here, there's no telling how deep the void beneath their feet might be — five feet, twenty? Or, God help them, more?

Kim struggles not to panic as Nick makes no effort to hide his own. "Come on, you guys," Nick calls from between two jutting evergreens, "Just cut across before the whole damn thing gives out!"

There's not a second to spare, but even as Kim starts to move she knows it's too late. She gets one last look at Nick's horrified expression before she, John, and the dead tree crash down into the empty space below.

Kim lands hard on her side, her arm taking the brunt of the blow and blossoming in radiant, white-hot pain. The world around her, suddenly dark and unfamiliar, tunnels alarmingly out of her vision, her blood rushing into her ears until she can only vaguely hear her own pained crying. Trying to move only causes daggers of pain to shoot right up her arm and into her brain, but she only finds that out as she rolls off of her definitely broken arm. At least, Kim's pretty sure it's broken. She's terrified of looking over and seeing her bone poking out, or something even worse — she knows that she won't be able to stand it, that she'll pass out, and she can't do that down here in this goddamn cavern!

Vague, warped voices vibrate through her as John appears abruptly by her side. The left side of his face is covered in a smear of blood from a deep wound scored over his brow. His mouth moves like he's trying to speak to her. God, her fucking arm!

"Take a deep breath," John commands once again, and this time Kim hears him and abides. The pain doesn't subside, but at least the panic that comes with it is softened as she struggles to calm down. As she does, the background noises begin to come into focus; the crumbling rubble settling, the sharp, birdless silence of the air, and most importantly, Nick hysterically shouting her name from above.

John puts a hand on the shoulder not currently delivering mountains of pain. "Another one," he says, and Kim obeys. It's while she's trying to catch her breath that John steps away, cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting up, "Kim's broken her arm!"

"God damn it, what happened — never mind, just —! Stay put! I'll go get help!" Nick's voice cracks as he realizes aloud, "Shit, there's nobody to get help from!"

Kim sucks in a deep breath. There's no way that John is going to be able to handle Nick's mounting panic by himself, and so she steels herself and tries to steady her voice. "It's gonna be okay!" she shouts. "I'm fine!"

"Bullshit you're fine, that looks like a two-story drop from here!"

John swears under his breath. "I don't have time for this."

"He's going to try and jump down if we don't talk him out of it," Kim hisses, closing her eyes as a wave of painful pins and needles washes up her arm. She keeps accidentally moving it, and the feeling of the bone scraping is enough to make her want to vomit.

John clearly decides she's right, changing tactics as Kim desperately tries not to start sobbing again. "It isn't bad, Nick!" he shouts, "But I need rope if I'm going to splint it! Get the cord from the glove box!"

Nick is quiet for a moment. "Y-Yeah," he calls down shakily, "I... I guess you got plenty to work with — hold on!"

Kim lets out a breath she hadn't meant to hold, then bites back the scream that threatens to rip from her throat. "Please tell me you can do this," she moans as John crouches down beside her broken arm. "I can't look — is there bone?"

"There's no bone," John replies. His voice is tight and unhappy, but at least he isn't lacking in confidence when he tells her, "I know what I'm doing. Try to stay conscious, and don't move. The last thing I need is to be stuck alone with Nick."

"Excuse him for worrying," she groans, staring up at the sky through the fifteen-foot-wide hole above her. She counts down the seconds until Nick gets back, if only to focus on something other than the pain.

John leaves her to it, making his way over to the tree that's joined them here in the cavern. There isn't much else down here besides them and the vegetation that came down with them; the sinkhole must have joined with a cavern somewhere along the way. The rock here probably hasn't seen daylight before — when she glances around, she spots a dark crack in the wall that implies there might be more, unlit caves to explore beyond.

Boy, she really does not want to go into that creepy tunnel, and she especially doesn't want to do it with a broken arm. Thankfully, Nick returns before that worry turns to panic.

"Everything okay? Actually, never mind — look, I got the rope, and the first-aid kit!"

Anything Nick decides to throw down is going to stay down here, and so Kim quickly stops him. "You keep that, Nick! If you get hurt up there, you'll need it!"

"We need it more," John points out, returning to her with a few branches that he clearly intends to use as a splint. He's not wrong about the medkit; the cut over his eye is a nasty one, and Kim could use all of those expired painkillers about now. Not to mention, there might be more injuries they've missed.

Still. "I'm not leaving Nick without supplies," she says.

John doesn't reply, but his scowl speaks volumes.

After a minute or so, Nick is ready to throw the cord down. They coordinate the hand-off just fine without her, which is great, because Kim needs to reserve all of her strength for what's to come.

Nick's bundled a few of the medical supplies into his worn-out flannel, along with the crank flashlight and one of the ultra-dry military rations, all tied off with the paracord. Kim is both touched at the thought and horrified at the idea that they might be here long enough to get hungry.

"This is good, Nick," John calls. "We're in a cave — there's got to be another way out nearby!"

"I'll go look for a way in!"

"No," Kim shouts, her voice cracking, "You might get hurt, Nick!"

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do, Kim! I'm not gonna leave you down there!"

Kim has never in her life imagined that she would say her next words, but that doesn't mean she doesn't mean it. "I'm going to be okay! John's down here with me, I'll be fine!"

John doesn't seem to have expected her to say that, either, boggling at her with open confusion. But... well, come on! If John can trust her enough to gun down Peggies trying to kidnap him, then she can at least trust him to help her limp out of one of Hope County's many caves. Sure, it's not an ideal situation by any means, but Kim's just happy not to be stuck looking for a way out by herself.

"Are you sure you can even walk?" Nick calls uneasily.

"I can handle it, Nick," John replies for her. "We'll look for a way out — if we don't find anything in an hour, we'll come back here and try something else!"

"What the hell do you want me to do!"

John pauses long enough to look at Kim, but since he seems to have more ideas than she does, she defers to his judgment. "Circle west around the hill and look for any entrances to call from! There's going to be a cave opening somewhere nearby!"

"I don't like any of this, Kim!"

John pinches the bridge of his nose, leaving Kim to answer, "It's the only plan we've got!"

The silence from above stretches out. "We don't have time for this," John mutters, abandoning his attempts to reassure Nick. "There's no telling where a way out might be, and I'm not wasting more time because Nick can't trust me."

"It's not about trust," Kim snipes in return. "He's trying not to panic."

John only grunts in return, settling on his knees next to her as he prepares to do the hard part for her. That leaves it up to Kim to encourage Nick to get a move on; she really doesn't want him sticking around for the painful part. "Nick, be careful, I don't want you to fall in another sinkhole! We'll be okay!"

Nick is frustratingly silent for another moment, but eventually, he relents. "Okay, fine! Remember to mark your path! And don't trust any ropes or ladders you see! And stay outta any water you find, you don't know how deep it is!"

"Jesus Christ," John mutters.

"Oh, shut up," Kim tells him, lifting her strained voice to call back. "Alright, Nick! We'll be careful! We'll see you soon!"

Kim makes John wait another minute after Nick leaves before she lets him at her arm. Despite his sour expression, John manages to be nothing more than stern, and surprisingly gentle. "Careful," he tells her, as if she needs a warning as he adjusts her broken arm. She's unable to decide if the burning sensation or the stabbing sensation is worse, but they're both vying for the spot as John examines the fracture. God, she hopes he knows what he's doing. She hopes it heals clean. She doesn't know what she'll do if she loses the thing.

John jostles her a little too abruptly, and a gasp of pain tears her from her downward spiral of worst possible outcomes. If John notices, he doesn't comment.

"It's not so bad," he says, although Kim's still not sure if she trusts his judgment on the matter. "It seems like a single fracture. I'll splint it, and... Well, there's somebody in town with medical experience, isn't there?"

"I don't know," Kim gasps, head reeling, "Maybe?"

John sighs. "Well, at least you'll survive."

"You better hope so," Kim jokes, or tries to anyway.

John rolls his eyes, but thankfully he's not in a vindictive mood as he prepares to set her arm. "You'll want to scream," he tells her. "Try breathing through your nose instead."

He sure isn't wrong. Kim can't think straight for a minute after he's finished, her face wet as the pain forces her to tears, but John is utterly detached and methodical as he binds her arm to one of the branches. It's reassuring at first, but Kim can't help but wonder just how many people suffered broken bones and serious trauma at his hands, only to see the same dispassionate bedside manner afterward? God, assuming they even survived what he put them through.

"Catch your breath," John tells her once he's done, standing and turning back to further investigate the tree. "The cave systems go on for miles down here, but there are dozens of openings in the hills. As long as we stick to the larger tunnels, we should be able to find one of them."

Kim watches him pick through the tree, sizing out larger branches and dismissing them one by one.

"I'm surprised you're not more freaked out," she says as he picks out a four-foot branch. "You know, being underground and everything."

John furiously breaks the branch from the trunk, then roughly cleans it of dead sprigs and foliage. "Thank you for reminding me."

"Sorry, I just meant —"

"I know what you meant," he says. "It's fine. I'm not... Like I said, these tunnels are hardly inescapable." He strikes the branch against the ground and seems satisfied by the sound. "I spent a lot of time studying the cave systems out here. We considered using them for passage between the gates, but that plan never went anywhere. It left me with enough useless knowledge that I'm not prone to panic down here."

"Useless until now," Kim points out. "Now help me up and let's get the hell out of here."

John helps her to her feet with her good arm, careful not to jostle the splint as she tests her balance. The world heaves for an uncomfortable second or two before righting itself, although it's mostly shock and adrenaline keeping her moving. She's not sure how long that's going to last, but she sure hopes it's long enough to reunite with Nick.

"I should probably lead," John says, looking unhappy about her tentatively upright position.

"Yeah, I don't think I'm in the position to trail-blaze."

"You're barely in the position to walk," he replies. Casting one last look around the sunlit cavern, John turns towards the dark crack in the wall that leads further into the system. "Try not to pass out."

"No promises," she says, staggering her way to their only exit.

She can feel the cool, musty air from here, oddly relieving against her sweaty face. She wishes she hadn't watched The Descent so many times before the apocalypse, because that is really coloring her perception of this situation. Of course, they're more likely to run into a wolverine or bear den than they are to be hunted by a pack of cave-dwelling mutants, but that doesn't stop her from considering it.

John starts forward. Kim, anxious and trembling in pain, tries to joke. "Just avoid stepping on any weird symbols carved into the ground, okay?"

"Christ," John groans, the same way he does every time somebody tries to rope him in with a pop-culture reference. He winds the flashlight up and the beam of light cuts a sharp swath across the dark tunnel "Will you two please let that Hollywood bullshit die already?"

"Oh, relax," she replies. "Tropes are older than L.A. and you know it. They aren't going to disappear just because civilization got nuked."

"One can dream," John snipes dryly in return.

Of course, even with the attitude, John keeps close to Kim, sticking to her uninjured side. Kim imagines her slow pace must be irritating the crap out of him, but he impressively manages not to sigh or stomp like a passive-aggressive toddler. He's been getting a lot better about letting his exasperation get to him, although she bets it's got a lot to do with exhaustion and survival instinct right now.

The silence stretches for a time between them. Kim imagines John is lost in his thoughts, but she's been hyper-aware of every distant sound of rubble shifting or oddly-shaped rock formations that are easy to mistake for humanoid shapes in the dark. The tunnel is only about eight feet across and somewhat taller than that, but that's plenty of room for Kim's imagination to play tricks on her.

"I always thought your anti-Hollywood thing was some kind of shtick," she admits. "Maybe you got scorned on a screenplay or something, I dunno. But you really believe that all of the entertainment industry deserved to get firebombed out of existence?"

"It deserved a reckoning," John replies.

"You mean something like nuclear annihilation?"

John's frown deepens. "Maybe," he says stiffly.

Normally, Kim would try to dig into that more, but she's not in a position to make much sense of it right now. Honestly, the conversation is irrelevant — she just needs something to keep her from fantasizing about monsters in the dark. Or, you know, passing out. Whichever would be worse.

"So I guess you don't have a desert island five, then."

John huffs loudly at that. "I wouldn't be able to remember it."

That just tells Kim that he does have one. She bets American Psycho or Fight Club was on it. Maybe Fear and Loathing?

"Okay, well... say you had to pick a movie to watch as soon as we got home. What would it be?"

Even without looking, Kim knows he's rolling his eyes. "Seriously? Is this really the time?"

"Humor me."

He groans in annoyance, but Kim doesn't miss the short stretch of silence that follows as he thinks it over.

"I don't know," he finally grumbles.

"Come on, you've got to have something."

"I only ever saw a handful of movies growing up, and I lost interest in the medium in college."

"God, you must have been a pretentious bastard."

Despite himself, John chuckles at the jab. "Oh, you have no idea," he replies.

The conversation dies, just like John had probably hoped it would. Kim tries to find something else to distract her, but there's really not much to look at. They've only found one offshoot that John had been able to fit in, but it had ended only a few yards in. They've been exploring for maybe fifteen minutes, though; there's still time for a miracle. Until then, she's got moss to look at, and the distant trickle of water from somewhere far away. With the way the land's shifted, there may be a new river forming somewhere up on the surface. In a few decades, it could swallow these caverns entirely.

"How does your arm feel?" John asks, his voice bouncing off the walls and breaking the silence.

"Not... great," she admits, still trying not to focus on the numb agony of her arm. "I wouldn't mind lying down and sleeping for a few weeks right about now, but I think I can keep it together until we find a way out."

She hopes, anyway.

"Good." John takes a moment to crank the flashlight before it can go out, then picks up the conversation as though Kim weren't even there. "There's nobody in town that I know of that has serious medical experience. With the gates destroyed, there's no telling where the experts we'd vetted for the Project wound up. Dead, probably. Or worse, still involved with Joseph. Hell, even a vet would be better than nothing."

He's definitely more anxious than he wants to let on. Kim doesn't believe for a second that being in this endless, dark tunnel is any better than being trapped in a bunker, save for maybe the space. At least in a bunker, you know which way is out, and you know what's going to kill you.

Now Kim is the one who starts to ramble. "I mean, there's got to be an eagle scout out there somewhere. And there were a couple of doctors still working when I had Carmina — one of them might've survived, right? Somebody out there will know enough to check your handiwork. For the record, though, I think you did a pretty good job for a guy stuck in a pit."

John shakes his head. "I've set plenty of broken limbs." There's a weird sort of challenge in his voice as he says, "Of course, I was the one who broke most of them."

"And I think you feel pretty shitty about it, so I don't know why you sound so smug."

"I'm just reminding you of who you're trying to compliment."

Kim rolls her eyes, her exasperation carrying over in her voice. "I know exactly who you are, John. Quit trying to rile me up like you do with Nick, it isn't going to work."

He huffs. "Sure," he says, then promptly shuts up. Of course he does. No wonder he only ever wants to talk to Nick — it's like he doesn't know how to hold a conversation without trying to start a fight.

Well, Kim needs something to distract her, so she'll carry on with it herself. "I've sprained my ankle a couple of times, but the only time I've ever broken a bone was in soccer camp when I was... thirteen, I think? It was my big toe, and the humiliation was way worse than the pain."

"I can't imagine," John drawls, distinctly unenthusiastic.

Kim opens her mouth to ask the obvious question, then catches herself. Asking about John's past is essentially opening Pandora's box; every time Kim has gone digging, she comes away with something new she wishes she could forget about. The breadcrumbs of information he's given her over the past year or so have honestly kept her up some nights. She probably doesn't want to know anything about the number of broken bones John's had. She definitely doesn't want to know how.

John looks over at her, daring her to ask. It's only when Kim manages to contain her curiosity that he parts with a few terse details. "The first time was when I was eleven. It was a powerful learning experience. One I... try not to revisit."

"Sure," she says. It sounds reasonable enough, anyway.

The flashlight's beam cuts across the wall further ahead, revealing the first major fork that they've come across. They're forced to take an impromptu break as John tries to determine their best way forward. John scowls at the darkness in either direction, but it doesn't seem to help make a decision. Meanwhile, Kim takes the opportunity to rest against the cold stone, swallowing down the nausea that's starting to build. It's a miracle that she's made it this far without fainting, but she doesn't think John's in the mood to hear that.

Frowning, John turns the flashlight back the way they came, sweeping the light down the forking path. "Strange," he mutters.

"What?"

"It's nothing," he says, sweeping the light down the way they came. "Except... see this?"

He steps closer to highlight a uniformly rectangular notch in the wall, just about hip-level. Moving the light reveals more, equally spaced notches, continuing along the wall of the newest fork in their road.

"There were guide ropes installed at one point or another. It doesn't seem to be an active mine, though — it must've been for dumb tourists, just in case of lawsuits."

"I hate to tell you, John, but right now, we're the dumb tourists."

"Unfortunately so. I guess that means we should take the left."

It's smaller, and it looks just as untouched as the rest of the cave has so far, but John's made a compelling point about the seemingly man-made notches.

"You're the expert," Kim says, "I'll take your word for it."

"Alright," he says, not as enthusiastic as Kim would have hoped for. He eyes her somewhat critically, then asks, "How are you doing?"

It's probably the pain making her delirious, but she's surprised at John's concern for her wellbeing. She really shouldn't be. Of course he cares; even if he weren't actively trying to be less awful, he's too smart to leave Kim down here and risk Nick finding out. But still. She's pain-addled enough to be touched by the sentiment.

That doesn't mean she's in the mood to sugarcoat the truth. "I'm surprised I'm still standing," she says. "Let's just hope we find Nick before I pass out."

"I'm sure he'd enjoy seeing me carrying your limp body out of the abandoned mine."

Kim laughs, regretting it as it sends an ache jolting through her body. "Oh, I bet. Just don't be surprised if I tap out at some point."

"You're stronger than that," John remarks. "Follow me."

Now, following John Seed through a dark cave tunnel with a broken arm seems like it would be a bad time. If this were ten, eleven years ago, Kim's sure she would be hunting for a weapon or looking for her own escape route. That is, of course, assuming he hadn't left her to die down here. No doubt that her survival would've banked on how much he would have needed her.

She's glad that's not the case now. John is a reliable navigator, slow-going and cautious as he leads the way, testing suspect rock formations and ducking into narrow crags that don't go anywhere. Honestly, he's probably being more cautious than they need to be. It's already been a half-hour or so, and they're going to need to turn back before much longer.

John has other concerns to bother him, though. "I wonder what happened to the anchors," he says at one point. "You'd think we would have found one by now."

"Maybe they took the rope down before the Collapse," Kim points out. "Lots of tourist traps weren't exactly up to code. Earl probably got here way before we did, back when he was trying to crack down on these kinds of things."

John frowns thoughtfully. "Maybe."

"It's not like people are down here renovating for the next season."

"We don't know that," he points out grimly. "Survivors might've hidden from the radiation down here. Or maybe some angels got lost after Faith was killed."

"Come on, John," she groans.

"Nick's always wondering where the mutants are. Maybe we'll be the ones to find them."

Kim side-eyes John just in time to catch the remnants of a smirk on his face, and she can't help but elbow him with her good arm. She tries to admonish him, telling him, "Knock it off," but she can't help laughing as she does.

"You're probably right about the code violations," John chuckles at last, lifting the light to check the ceiling ahead as it dips low enough for them to need to duck. "Not a lot of these cave systems were what I'd call safe. It's one of the reasons we decided against using them as tunnels. The work involved was too expensive, and the chance of cave-ins was too high. And, as we've found out, they weren't guaranteed to stay underground."

"So, what was going to happen instead? Were you guys going to rely on radios, or what?"

"It doesn't matter what we decided," John points out, more weary of the conversation than irritated. "The gates were barely finished before the Deputy destroyed them, and we never got to find out what might've happened."

They follow the notches through two more forks, and Kim starts to worry that they're only going deeper into the old attraction. Well, at least they're taking the easy way. With a smooth floor and a ceiling that rarely drops lower than eight feet, Kim gets the impression that they're in a manufactured mine, and not an organic one. For all they know, some crazy prepper dug this tunnel out to make a quick buck for his bunker-building hobby. Of course, if that's the case, it's a miracle that nothing's caved in yet.

They pass underneath a lower segment of the ceiling, and the tunnel abruptly opens up into a massive cavern. Defunct light rigs are scattered amongst the stalagmites, with several hanging stalactites covered in chipped fluorescent paint. The rest of the rock outcroppings are covered in lichen, which disappointingly fails to glow in the dark. As John sweeps the flashlight across the large, empty space, Kim gets a good idea of the cheap edu-tainment that was offered on short hikes through the mines. Somewhere in here, there's probably a storage closet full of Halloween decor waiting to liven up the otherwise boring cavern.

"Well, this wasn't worth the twenty dollars it cost to get in," John grouses.

"Don't forget the thirty-dollar iron-on tee-shirts they print off at home," Kim reminds him with a laugh. It's enough to make her lightheaded, and she doesn't quite regain her balance, even after she braces herself against the wall.

"We can only rest a minute," he warns her, sweeping the light in the direction they need to go. Any more huffing and puffing on his part is diminished as the light glints off the rounded edge of something metallic. When John refocuses the light on the object, neither of them really know what to say.

Lying amongst the rocks, battered and dirty, is one of the dark green bliss containers they've been looking for. Kim looks up, but the ceiling is rooted in darkness, and she can't see any sign of another cave-in or sinkhole. The idea that Jacob might've come this far himself crosses her mind, but if that were the case, why is it sitting out in the open like that?

"John, wait," Kim calls as John steps off the path. Suddenly, all her jokes about booby traps seem tasteless, especially with John charging into the unknown like he is.

Of course, this isn't Indiana Jones, and there's no pit of spikes or tripwire to trigger. John doesn't wind up with a face-full of poison darts as he picks up the dented canister; the only thing he's forced to sacrifice is a good grip on the flashlight, which shines at an awkward angle and only illuminates a useless part of the floor. His slow pace and the bad lighting leave Kim to imagine what he's found inside — remnants of supplies, or a dead animal? Indications that something chewed through the rubber sealant, maybe?

John drops the barrel between them, the clanging metal causing Kim to jump. John doesn't notice as he reorients the light, leaning over to illuminate the barrel's contents. The interior is flaked with rust, and whatever sealant had been used is all but completely worn away. The only thing left inside is an empty, smashed bottle of liquor and a few wrapped, moldy packages of cigarettes.

"I don't know if I'm disappointed or not," Kim says.

"I know I am," John replies, grimly reaching into the empty barrel to check for a false bottom. The screech of metal rises up into the cavern, bouncing off the far ceiling and turning into an ugly birdsong. Kim leans back against the wall; if she keeps looking down, she's going to end up toppling over like a broken Weeble-Wobble. John glances her way after a moment, before lifting a clump of wet paper out from the depths of the barrel.

"Of course he buried documents here," John mutters. Kim can't quite pin down whether he's upset or resigned to the bad luck at this point.

"Anything salvageable?" she asks.

"Doubtful. I'll... bring these along, I guess." He checks again, digging out what he can. Other than the loose papers, there's a water-logged manila envelope and an equally soaked box of ammunition. John tucks the box away in his front pocket, holding the papers uncomfortably in his hand. "We'll worry about what these are once we're out of here."

Despite the pain in her arm giving her full-body tremors and John's dismal mood, Kim is nearly upbeat as they exit the cavern. They're still in civilization, after all, even if it's a defunct tourist trap, and the knowledge that they're clearly on their way out is the main thing keeping her moving. If they're lucky, they aren't too far from the truck — if they're really lucky, Nick will have found the entrance before them.

They eventually find a few anchors that are still moored to the walls, a knotted bit of rope still attached, and Kim breathes a sigh of relief. The sigh quickly turns to a groan of pain as she rattles her arm, but at least it isn't enough to knock her off her feet.

John hesitates in front of her, slowing just enough so that he can offer his arm to her. "We can't stop now," he tells her.

"I know," she pants, wiping sweat from her forehead that she hadn't realized was gathering. "Okay. We're nearly there."

She gives up on pretending entirely, leaning heavily against John as they continue forward. Lying down and resting for, oh, a hundred years or so sounds great right now, but first, she needs to make sure Nick hasn't had a heart attack waiting for them. He's probably convinced himself that they've gotten killed somehow, and John isn't going to be able to talk him down on his own.

They approach what will hopefully be the last fork in the tunnel, only to find that both directions have anchors. The newest offshoot seems to curve pretty severely downwards, though; it's clear even as they stop that they should stick to the path they've been on.

"I don't like this," John says, looking first behind them and then ahead, down the new path.

"Fine," Kim groans, "You can choose the next tourist trap we get stuck in."

"I'm serious, Kim." John turns the flashlight down the new path. The air coming from that direction is thick and stagnate — Kim's imagination unhelpfully supplies a few images of killer clowns and deformed mutants to lurk down in the dark that way. God, why did she have to like horror movies so much? Why couldn't she have enjoyed normal, safe entertainment that wouldn't have filled her imagination with monsters and a deep-rooted fear of the unexplored dark?

It certainly doesn't help as John says, "I keep getting the feeling that we're being watched."

"Okay, that's it," Kim snaps, desperately trying to bury the surge of fear the suggestion fills her with. "I'm done being creeped out."

"I'm not trying to scare you —"

"Well, you're naturally gifted, okay? Look, let's just — we know that's the way out," she says, nodding towards the safer route. "Let's just go that way. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"Agreed," John grunts.

John adopts a brisk walk that Kim has some trouble keeping up with, but she's not interested in slowing down for anything. She feels vindicated by their choice of exit as they pass a faded safety sign lying on the ground, as well as the decidedly fresher air coming in from what Kim expects to be the exit. There are a few moments where John has to resist breaking out into a jog; Kim can't exactly blame him, but his jitters are amping up her own anxiety, and now she's trying desperately to listen for chasing footsteps behind them. It's hard to hear much of anything over the blood pounding in her ears.

It's a massive relief when John finally slows down. "It must have been an animal," he says at last, casting one last look behind them. "God, I fucking hate being underground."

"Well, let's hope we aren't leading the mutants to the surface world," Kim jokes. It probably would land better if she didn't sound completely wiped.

John frowns at her, but the dark makes it hard to pin down his expression. "We're almost there," he says, which sounds alarming like a reassurance.

Her spirits lift as they pass an overturned rail barricade, but the wind is immediately taken out of her sails as they find the path blocked by a chained and padlocked gate. The thick gauge chain-link fence has been welded to brackets on the wall; the bottom has been bent outwards, likely from some angry animal forcing its way through. Unfortunately, it's too small for either of them to get through.

"For fuck's sake," John hisses between gritted teeth.

They're not going anywhere, and Kim's nausea forces her to find something more solid than John for support. She manages to stagger to the nearest wall before falling against it, but it's enough to make her regret moving at all.

At least she manages a weak thumbs up when John anxiously asks, "Are you alright?"

"Just — giving you room to work," she gurgles, staggering a few feet back down the path before throwing up.

John swears under his breath as Kim tries to coax her headache back to something more manageable. She can hear him tearing at the gate behind her; if she weren't feeling so miserable, she'd probably be flipping out on it, too. As it is, she takes her sweet time to turn around and start back for the fence, watching as John tries to widen the gap left behind by some tenacious wolverine. It's going to wreck her arm to try and weasel through the hole, but Kim is willing to try anything at this point.

"How far are we from the truck?" Kim rasps. "Maybe Nick can hear us?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" John snaps, well past the end of his rope. Kim has to admit, she's surprised he made it this far. "God damn it, I don't know where we are any better than you!"

"Okay, point taken," Kim says — after all, she's in no position to argue with him. As it is, it's taking most of her focus to keep from sinking to the ground. As soon as she's sitting, she's going to pass out, and she's not in any position to be doing that yet.

Thankfully, Nick's voice reaches them before she can give up. A tidal wave of relief floods Kim at the sound of him calling her name; she staggers forward, gripping the chain-link with her good arm.

"Nick!" she shouts. The sound of her own voice bouncing off the walls only amplifies her pounding headache, but it doesn't stop her from shouting his name a few more times in desperation.

John grabs her good shoulder. "Careful," he says, "Take it easy."

"You take it easy," Kim snaps as Nick's voice bounces off the far-away cave entrance. Trying to glare at John is a mistake, as vertigo nearly sends her to the floor. The only thing that keeps her upright is John's grip on her arm, easing her back until she finds the wall for support.

"Let me handle it," he says.

Kim has no choice but to follow his orders, reeling against the wall as he picks up the impromptu game of Marco Polo. She's not sure how much time passes between her slow, long blinks, but all that matters is the moment that she sees Nick appear with the lantern held high. It's enough to bring her to tears — well, that and the dizzying pain — and from Nick's tearful shout, it's having the same effect on him.

"Oh, thank Christ," he gasps as he reaches the gate, rattling it with his free hand as if he could just pry it back. "Kim, you're alive! Are you okay?" He turns the full force of his relief on John, concern furrowing his brow. "Jesus, John, are you okay? We needa get that cut looked at."

"It's fine," John says. "You didn't see any keys anywhere, did you?"

"Let me go check the ticket booth," Nick replies. "Don't worry, you guys — I'm not about to let a goddamn padlock stop me."

Nick jogs back down the tunnel and Kim finally sags, sliding to the ground with a tired groan.

"Okay, John," she sighs, "Mission accomplished. Wake me up when we get home."

"Kim, hold on," John replies, but frankly there's no stopping her now. This was as far as she'd hoped to get on her own two feet, and honestly, she's surprised that she made it that far.

She does rouse briefly as Nick begins wailing on the padlock with a steel pipe, but that's something the boys can handle without her. Here and there, she registers hands on her, and dappled light flashes over her face as they finally escape the caves. The fresh air brings her back long enough to help Nick get her settled in the truck, but she's already dozing off by the time John and Nick start arguing again. The rest of the trip, for better or worse, is completely lost on her.

————

When Kim finally comes to, she's immediately met by the familiar sight of her room at home. She can't tell what time it is, only that it's late enough for the lamp to be lit. Judging by the voices downstairs, everyone is still awake — and going by the sling and bandages, they've had some company since she was last conscious. She allows herself to imagine the whole thing was all a horrible nightmare, just for a second, but the throbbing in her arm is already reminding her of the unfortunate truth. At least she can check "escape mutants in a tunnel" off of her bucket list.

She doesn't have long to focus on the slowly returning pain; it's not even a minute later that she hears boots on the stairs, and Nick pokes his head in not long after.

"Hey," is about all she can muster up before she has to clear her throat, but it's enough.

"Christ, Kim!" he exclaims, throwing open the door as he rushes to her side. The worry breaks on his face as he crouches beside her, careful not to jostle her broken arm. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"Uh... not awesome," she admits, shifting in an attempt to sit up. Nick hurries to help her, and she can't help but smile at him as he piles the pillows behind her. "Better now, though."

"That's what I'm here for," Nick laughs, "That and making everybody else uncomfortable. They kept tellin' me not to worry, but you know how hard that is."

"They?"

"Well, John mostly, until Jerome and Grace showed up. Then I had to keep it together for Carmina, so that helped. Uh. How much do you remember about gettin' back here?"

"Not much," Kim says. Now that she's more conscious, she's able to discern the late evening light for what it is; it's been hours since she was last aware of where she was. "I... remember getting into the truck, I think? And then... Nothing. Why? What did I miss?"

Nick shakes his head, smiling fondly at her. "Nothing much, honest. Most of the ride back was me and John arguing about what to do. He radioed Jerome for help while I got you up here and settled in, then I called up Grace so she could keep Carmina busy until Jerome showed up with some help. I guess Winona, y'know, down at the Eagle? She was getting her nursing degree, or license, or whatever, so Jerome brought her over here to help out. She said it looked like a clean enough break, and John did a good job setting it, so we just had to make sure you wouldn't be accidentally moving in your sleep." He chuckles. "You know, real exciting stuff."

"Oh, boy," Kim groans, "I bet I scared the crap out of Carmina. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Worried about you, obviously, but Grace gave her a pep talk and we kept her busy downstairs. Figured you oughta be awake before she came to see you."

"Good call." Kim briefly debates whether or not getting out of bed is worth it, but she quickly decides against it. Even if she weren't wiped out, Nick looks like he'd fall apart with worry if she tried to exert herself. "You might have to go get her, because I don't think I could move if I wanted to."

"Don't even think about it," Nick says, pointing at her as he gets back to his feet. "You're on bed rest until tomorrow at least. I'll be right back."

Kim dozes for the few minutes that stretch between Nick leaving and Carmina coming up the stairs. It's impossible to fall back asleep, but the rest is good enough on its own. She makes sure to perk up when she hears Carmina coming up the stairs, smiling wide as her daughter enters the doorway.

"Hey, honey," she says, her voice rougher than she'd expected it to be.

"Mom!" Carmina exclaims, careful to avoid jostling Kim as she climbs into the bed on her good side. "I was so worried!"

Kim folds her arm around Carmina's shoulders and gives her a squeeze. "I know, sweetheart. I didn't mean to spook you."

"What happened? Dad said you and John fell into a cave!"

"That's pretty much it," Kim laughs. "We fell through a sinkhole into an old cave system. It used to be a place people could visit, though, so it wasn't hard to find our way out."

Carmina frowns, picking at a loose thread in the comforter. "But it was probably really dark. And your arm was broken, and John busted his head open, and..."

"First of all, his head wasn't busted open," Kim says, reaching up to ruffle Carmina's hair. "He probably needed a few stitches, sure, but he knew what he was doing, and we both made it out okay. And your dad got the flashlight to us, so we had plenty of light to see by."

Obviously, Kim never wants to go back to that awful place, but she needs her daughter to learn not to panic now, in case she ever has to go into those tunnels herself. There's no summer camp to enroll her in that will teach her how to be mindful of caves, so Kim's going to have to do it herself... She just wishes she'd gotten to it before she'd had her own scary experience.

Carmina huffs, frowning briefly at the door. "You were lucky John was there," she says.

Kim bites back on her knee-jerk reaction to scoff at the idea. "You're right," she admits, a little more reluctant to do so than she really should be.

"Nobody else thinks so," Carmina grumbles. "Grace got mad dad left you two down there and then Jerome got mad at John for getting you hurt and Winona was really mad that she had to give John stitches. I wanted to say something but dad wouldn't let me."

"That's because they have good reasons not to trust him," Kim points out, although that excuse is starting to wear a little thin, even with her. "They just need time."

Carmina groans. "I guess. I'm... just really glad you're okay."

Kim squeezes Carmina's shoulder. "Me too."

Carmina sighs. "So... what was it like?" she asks, unable to resist her curiosity any longer.

That's okay by Kim — she could use the distraction. "Well... it was dark, and chilly. It was really quiet — the only thing we could hear was water dripping on the walls and our footsteps. The tunnel wasn't very interesting... but there was a big cavern in the middle where we found the cache, covered in stalactites and stalagmites. You could see where they used to have lights rigged up, and they'd painted some of the rocks to glow in the dark."

"You didn't see any animals?" Carmina frowns. "I always thought animals would hide in the caves."

Kim absolutely will not be telling her daughter about John's creepy sense of danger, thanks. "You know, we didn't. There isn't a lot of food for rabbits or cougars in there, though. I think they usually prefer little caves, not big ones."

There are plenty more questions for Carmina to ask that Kim only barely knows the answers to. Thankfully, geography and natural history are easy to teach hands-on; while she's not about to go back to the cave they just escaped, there are a couple of old attractions she remembers visiting that might do the trick. Places with good gift shops and little museums and educational plaques everywhere to help Kim explain how basic geology works.

"If you want, we can do some cave exploring of our own one day," Kim offers. "I'll need some time to get better, first. And I'll have to find the right place. But when we have some free time..."

"That sounds fun," Carmina says. "Just don't fall into another one first?"

"I'll do my best. We'll, uh, teach you what to look for so you don't make the same mistake."

They talk for a little while longer about the cave systems that litter Hope County, but it's not exactly Kim's favorite topic right now. It's a relief when Carmina declares that she needs water; even more so when she offers to bring some up to Kim. She considers asking Carmina to relay her thanks to John, but it can honestly wait until morning. Hopefully by then, she'll have adjusted to the makeshift cast, although she suspects she'll have plenty of time to get used to it. How long does it take a broken bone to heal, she wonders? Probably a few months, at least. She's really going to have to take it easy, and hope that nothing catastrophic happens while she's down one working arm.

[atiny-piratequeen]

*Image of Jongho and Whiro posted is a paid commission from twt artist Hizu with permission. Please respect both Hizu and I and do not repost or use the artwork anywhere else. Thank you

Character Analysis: Choi Jongho, the 'Great Evil'

Languages: Māori, English, Samoan (Modern Day), Tahitian (Modern Day), Hawaiian (Modern Day), Japanese (Modern Day),  Korean (Modern Day), Icelandic (Modern Day), Haitian (Modern Day), Thai (Modern Day)

Crew Position: Gunner

Powers: Umbrakinesis/Darkness (Inherited from Maori God, Whiro)

Compass Position + Arrowpoint Stone: South West, Right Hip (Mirrors Yunho’s), Obsidian

Eye Color: Brown (Natural), Red (Whiro/ Full Demonic Form)

Hair Color: Black, Blonde (Demon Form)

Piercings: Jacob’s Ladder

Tā Moko: Along his left  pectoral, a complete ta moko from his buttocks down to his ankles,  along his face and arms (Situational, using his Umbrakinnesis and Whiro himself)

Likes: Fighting (Specifically with Whiro Nowadays), Being in Wooded Areas, Showing Off His Tā Moko, Having His Lovers Run Their Fingers Over His Tā Moko and Scars

Dislikes: People Being In His Space, Whiro’s Complaining, Excessive Amounts of Affection, Bell Peppers

Jongho, Māori warrior of Aotearoa.

The son of the village’s tohunga tā moko, Jongho lived most of his life in comfort. He had the honor of being one of the village’s most promising warriors, excelling in his training and being loved by all of the members of his village. 

They were all close, a family. 

No one is closer to him than Mateo, the chief’s son. Together, the two of them are inseparable. As long as they stay together, nothing can touch them, not even the rival tribe threatening peace as they know it. 

As long as they stay….together….

Bounty Hunter Jongho.

Loss shapes a man. Hollowed out and gutted of most emotion other than fury and rage, loss burns away all that you once were. Revenge is his mission now. Redemption. 

Redeeming himself is just a matter of bringing down more and more of the world’s lowlifes. The more people he takes out, the closer he is to redeeming himself for his past errors.  It’s just that simple. 

Life is simpler when you don’t have to think. 

Gunner Jongho.

Through some chaotic and unorthodox circumstances-though, at this point, its to be expected-Jongho is now surrounded by Hongjoong and co. He’s by no means welcomed by all, but as long as he can make amends for his mistakes, he’s willing to deal with the scrutinizing and disapproving glances cast his way. 

The winds of change are blowing for the young gunner. Though bullheaded and stubborn, Jongho will soon realize just how valuable he is to the crew. 

Ah, as soon as he can quiet that annoying asshole, Whiro first. Gods, he really doesn’t shut up, does he?

-Mythology-

Whiro-te-tipua (Whiro the demon) is the Maori god of all things associated with evil, darkness, and death. It is said the reason why people have darkness in their hearts is his doing. 

Whiro’s story begins somewhat at the same time as his siblings. As their father, the sky itself, Ranginui embraced Papatūānuku, their mother, earth, all of their offspring became trapped between them. This created a divide between some of them. 

For some, they enjoyed the darkness and crampedness that came from being so close together because of their parents. 

For others, namely Whiro himself, the dark and dreary conditions were ideal. 

The conflicting ideals lead to a struggle, as Tāne-mahuta, the god of forests and light came up with a plan to separate their parents. The amount of offspring that were against the idea and stood with Whrio were outnumbered by the ones who wished to be free and sided with Tāne, and as such, Tāne separated their parents, forcing their father Rangi up and away from Papa. 

Whiro despised the mere thought of separating their parents, for reasons ranging between not liking how cold and vast the outside would be if they did so, to disagreeing with the method of separating their parents being to sever their limbs. His words, however, were not as convincing as Tāne’s, and thy proceeded with the younger god’s plan.

As such, the sky was separated from the earth, and the offspring were allowed to finally separate. 

...and evil himself, Whiro, was also unleashed into the world, as well.

The ills of the world-including sickness and disease-are said to be Whiro’s doing in his constant mission to destroy man and mankind, as they are the creation of Tāne after he separated their primordial parents. 

In one of their neverending feuds, Tāne began an ascent to the heavens to obtain the Wananga (important and sacred knowledge and lore) on behalf of Io. Whiro, once again, flew into a jealous rage, as he offered himself to ascend to obtain the knowledge, but his method of ascent was shot down, while Tāne’s method was preferred by their siblings, and he was chosen over Whiro-again. 

Fed up with being bested, Whiro took matters into his own hands and decided to try beating Tāne to the heavens, getting a head start to try and obtain the knowledge all for himself instead. 

This did not go unnoticed, and Tane was accompanied by the Whanau-puhi (the Wind Children) to aid in his ascent as Whiro began sending animals and insects to try and slow him down. Flying insects, reptiles, and carrion-eating birds were all sent Tāne’s way to hinder him as Whiro tried to best him, even drawing blood from the god to be used later in potions that destroy life itself.

Getting cocky, Whiro didn’t utilize his advantage and stopped several times to taunt Tāne, waiting for his younger brother to continue before sending another horde after him, reveling in the fact that he had the upper hand for once. 

Whiro’s cockiness cost him the opportunity to get the knowledge he had set out to obtain, as Tāne somehow beat all the odds and got to the top, regardless. 

During his decent from the heavenly mountain, Whiro-now pissed once more at yet another loss to Tāne-sent another horde after him. The Whanau-puhi stepped in again, taking some of the horde as captives and bringing them to our world. 

Because of this, we have mosquitos, sandflies, mantises, hawks, bitterns, bats, owls, parrots, and keases. 

The two continued to feud, eventually breaking out into a full war.

One of which, again, Tāne won.

Whiro now resides in the underworld, and is considered one of the most active of Māori deities. His persistence is ruthless and neverending in his mission to destroy man.

He is represented by a lizard and other reptiles native to New Zealand, and as such, the creatures were both feared and incredibly respected. A lizard is said to be an emissary of Whiro and a harbinger of death. 

Some said when the gods themselves are ready and decide to destroy a man, they place a lizard inside of his body, allowing the creature to devour his vitals, ultimately killing him.

For now,  a mere fragment of the great god resides inside of our Jongho.

He really likes Yeosang’s cooking, so I doubt there will be any vital eating lizards anytime soon.

-Power Applications/Demon Transformation-

Jongho was born and raised a Māori warrior, and as such, is a force to be reckoned with even without Whiro’s assistance. Through training games such as ti rākau, poi rākau, tītī torea, and te whai wawewawe a Māui, his eyesight has been sharpened to pick up even the most minute of bodily or environmental changes in battles in an instant. His body is incredibly nimble and his footwork in battle far surpasses the others.

Before being paired with Whiro, Jongho could hold his own with his weapons from home and his bare hands. He carries three weapons on him at all times, at the very least. 

The first of these weapons is his taiaha, a weapon made of either whalebone or wood that is very similar to a quarterstaff and a spear. Feathers were attached to the neck of the weapon, just below the sharpened end of it used for stabbing. The purpose of the feathers was to cause a visual distraction in the form of the ruffling feathers, be it from a sharp or subtle movement from the wielder to catch the attention of an opponent. Once distracted, the wielder would use both their footwork, flexible wrists, and speed to strike with the other end of the weapon and either go for a bludgeoning shot with the blunt end or a stab with the sharpened one. 

The second weapon Jongho usually keeps on his person is a blunt weapon that sports intricate carvings in it. It, like many Māori traditional weapons, was made either by whalebone or wood. They are striking weapons used for close quarter type fighting and with the right amount of power and force, can break bones or dislocate shoulders. 

They are also used in important meetings as a tool to command attention and punctuate important points to pay attention to. 

The final physical weapon Jongho carries on him at all times, even in Modern Day AtT, is the mere pounamu he took on when Mateo passed away from battle wu.  Highly prized and considered to be one of, if not the most sacred of Māori weapons. It is a weapon passed down generations and used as a sign of chieftainship. The weapon is teardrop-shaped, and made from jade stone. There is a hole drilled into the base of it for a wrap to be attached to the wrist to keep it from slipping during combat. He used it faithfully to honor Mateo after his death until Yunho gifted him with a mere he and Geb crafted themselves created from charoite. 

Though the two of them butt heads, Whiro and Jongho come together for combat, with Whiro often forming beside Jongho as a mirror image of him, sans the tā moko that covers his face and his hair taking a blonde color. Both of their eyes turn a crimson red, and when they are further attuned to each other, Jongho also gains a tā moko across his face, the most sacred type of tā moko (though all of his tā mokos that are formed from Whiro’s umbrakinesis are temporary and can be dispelled at any time). 

Though the two don’t get along at all when they first merge, they fight in unison, with both of their warrior instincts tugging them through battle with the combined strength and knowledge of a warrior and a god. 

Jongho’s shadows can fluctuate and are one of the stronger of the powers the crew members has. He can still create shadows in a completely lit room from nothing, though Whiro thrives even more in darker conditions. They can be solid forms, forming powerful tendrils to lash out with, or be shot at like projectiles, but they can also be used for reconnaissance, with the shadows able to go under doors and the like. 

Though, recon isn’t Jongho or Whiro’s thing. 

When not in combat, Jongho uses his powers, even when resting, keeping Whiro’s shadow form stretched across his arms like a tā moko. At first, this was solely because Jongho didn’t trust the god not to try and strangle him in his sleep (despite him being immortal) or inconvenience him if he fully let his guard down, but the more the two spend time together, the more it seems neither minds each other’s presence as much, and it comes second nature to them.

Maybe there’s even a base level of fondness and respect forming. Though you didn’t hear that from me. 

-Character Song Breakdown-

All of the main boys have a song assigned to them in the AtT playlist to go alongside their origin chapters. Jongho’s character song is Lose My Life by Papercut Massacre. I will go over some spoiler things, but if you made it this far, you may know this already.

Trigger Warning: Jongho’s self-destructive behavior, while not intentional on his behalf, is borderline suicidal, so please tread with caution when reading the short character song breakdown, if not, feel free to skip to the character blurb and take care, everytiny.

Jongho’s song breakdown will be on the shorter end, but the song was chosen because of Jongho’s disposition during the majority of his chapter after Mateo’s death.

As a warrior, losing your life in battle is the highest honor one can have, but Jongho takes the full brunt of the blame for Mateo’s death for not being with him when he was fatally wounded.

-Don’t fret, they’re coming

They’re lining up to join me

To save us all

Which ones will fall

They don’t even care we’re here

How do you save someone without fear?

The voices screaming

Stop!

Look what we started

The heroes falling

Could you say that you would give your life tonight?

The sky is burning

The fear consuming

I’ll live forever if I lose my life tonight.-

Jongho spends years of his life completely uncaring if he lives or dies, as long as he can redeem himself for, in his own mind, being the one who let Mateo down and lead to his death. This develops a form of dark hero-complex within the warrior-turned-bounty hunter that persists after Wooyoung and Hongjoong save him and take him aboard the ship. 

In his mind, for a while, he’ll be redeemed if he can give his life protecting or saving someone else, and it isn’t until he does so and is saved by being the last man turned by Hongjoong that he lets go of the self-destructive behavior and learns to be more cautious when protecting the people around him.

-Character Blurb-

Jongho stared out at the waves, the black lines on his arms shifting every now and again as he stared at the horizon. The air was good today, and he breathed in deeply before he stiffened ever so slightly when the wood behind him creaked. 

“It’s just me.”

His shoulders relaxed marginally as Wooyoung appeared at this side, watching the horizon with him. Jongho sent him a look before he turned his head back towards the ocean. 

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

“No, I get it. I should know better than to come up behind you like that.” 

The two fell into silence again, just enjoying each other’s presence. Jongho pursed his lips for a moment before he looked down at Wooyoung. 

“Why did you save my life back then? Why didn’t you let me get what I deserved?” He inquired. Wooyoung sent him a look, opening his mouth to rip him a new one when Jongho waved his hands, slightly flustered. 

“No, no, I don’t mean it like that. I mean, at the time I did but like. Ugh just, why did you save me?” 

Wooyoung stared at him for a moment before he laughed lightly and looked out at the sea.

“You reminded me of San. Just...you kicked my ass a bit more than he did. But you reminded me of San so much when you actually listened to me...well, when you read what I had to say. I thought ‘well, if we could save San and bring light to his eyes, maybe we can do it to this dude too, y’know, if the others don’t kill him for crushing my windpipe and shattering my voice box.’” he chirped nonchalantly, despite the way Jongho cringed. Whiro barked out a laugh in his head, but he ignored him for the time being, running a hand through his long hair.

“The same eyes, huh. That’s something.”

“Yeah. I may have been naive, but following my heart lead to me saving another piece of myself so I think it’s okay.” Wooyoung mused, a soft smile on his face as he reached down to hook his pinky with Jongho’s. The younger man looked at their hands and fully pushed them together, lacing their fingers together as he gave him a squeeze. 

“I’m glad for your naive heart, then.” 

“Ew, all of these soft ass emotions are going to make me barf. I’ll do it, you know. Right in your mind. Mind barf, everywhere. Dunno if I can actually do it, but I’ll find a way.” 

“Whiro, shut the fuck-”

-M.List-

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Pain Relief (Jacob Frye x Injured!Reader)

Hope everyone is doing okay and being safe! Will probably do this in two parts so it’s not too long!

PART 2

You knew going into a gang fight was always risky, but the outcome would always be rewarding. Having ignored the Fyre twin’s pleas, you get out of the situation very poorly.

“Absolutely not. That is the final warning.”

You were beyond seething, arms hunched and crossed, you glared back over at the oldest Frye twin with the fury that Hell could never hold. 

“Are you to expect us to allow them to hold that borough whilst your own allies die in your pettiness?”

“I have said what is needed to be done, Y/N.” Evie - as usual - was collected, methodical and orderly; never quick to raise her voice or that of her temper. “Our numbers are low, we’ve already barely survived the war against them in Southwark, and I’m not going to allow more to be lost.”

“The City of London will perish under Bloody Nora’s fist. She laughs in our anguish and watches us fail.”

“The City of London can be taken within days once we have recruited.” Henry Green added from the sideline, behind Evie as a supporter. “Have we need to wait, our numbers will have flourished.”

“Yes, whilst she gets more of her own to add to the army awaiting us when we arrive.” You snapped. “Had you remembered, she was certain of our strategies. If we can take it back now, she will not have the chance to regroup or engage in expanding, and the borough can be ours.”

You were pacing by now, and you were certain everyone on the train could hear you, even maybe those feeling the seething rage from the upcoming station. You were usually never one to show your fists or get into fights, but if it mattered to you a lot, it could get your blood boiling.

“Let me take some Rooks into the area, we’ll have it by that same afternoon.” You were adamant on taking it.

Evie wouldn’t back down, her blue eyes studying you like a hawk. “There is no way we’re allowing you to go into this gun’s blazing. Have you been taking Jacob’s example in all of this?”

The younger Frye was not on the train - thank God - and you were certain hearing his words on the matter would really irritate you to high heaven. 

You jeered, rolling your eyes. “Now I can see who is better with strategery.”

“Enough. Miss L/N, I would take your leave before you decide to wreck havoc on this train.” Henry moved in once more, pulling you away guardedly by the arm like trying to move off an irritable bull.

You yanked your arm out of his coldly. “I will not watch London go down like this.” Before swerving to get out of the carriage and head to your own room. You slammed the door shut in emphasis, sinking to your bed like a heavy lead weight on your back, gazing up at the ceiling.

“Well, that went well.”

You keened, pinching your nose as you closed your eyes tightly. “Do I want to know how long you were standing outside for?”

Jacob Frye was lounging in the loveseat facing to your bed, legs crossed and his hat laid on the table beside. His body language read relaxation, but the shifting in his hazel eyes told you otherwise.

“Enough to of caught your entire wants and needs. You know, I do appreciate your words, I knew it wouldn’t take long before I would finally be called the strategic sibling.”

“Oh hush,” you rolled your eyes, rolling onto your stomach. “One Frye was bad enough tonight, I don’t want to hear anymore from the other.”

“So, what now? My sister wants one thing, but you’re clearly wanting to go against her.”

You straightened yourself up, suddenly more aware of the circumstances. Whatever words you would say now, you wouldn’t know exactly how Jacob would react. 

“Bloody Nora is holding against the City of London with as much hold than Starrick over the Templar Order. What good is it to stand watch and allow the borough to be kept under an iron fist?”

Jacob gave you an unknown look, one that was practically unreadable in contrast to the charismatic and confident man. Clearly, you knew there was something that was trying to agree with both you and Evie.

“My sister... she won’t understand our brasher sides, but I-- we cannot allow you to go in with such a high risk of succeeding.”

You scoffed once more, going to move to sit on the end of your bed. “You’re siding with your sister? The Jacob Frye, siding with his sister over something so complicated?”

“Love, this isn’t just some child’s play, this is over life and death!” Jacob voiced, and as quick as a deer to get to your side, and before you, he stood at his full height, now trying to get you to stand down.

You listened, silently juggling whether you wanted to kiss the assassin or shove him out. It was certain there were some unrequited feelings shared for him. But, knowing whether the kindled spark was reciprocated was something that made you fear for rejection.

Gingerly and with little hesitation, the younger Frye moving forth to grab onto your hand, taking it into his much large one, stroking your knuckles almost with concern.

“Please don’t do this. You’re a valuable asset to us. And I don’t want your arrogance getting you killed over nothing.” His voice fell lower than you had expected, almost a whisper as his head fell forward, guarding his eyes.

You thought quietly, thinking, and for a moment, Jacob had believed he had managed to get you to accept, but as you slowly rose to your own full height before him, he could only see the fierceness and passion that endured within you. 

You stood just inches below him, the way the dim light caught the shade of them, and how amazing they looked; the man was something else. He was truly beautiful. 

For a moment, you watched his facial expressions: the way his hazel eyes flickered around your face, wordlessly urging you to not go ahead and do this.

And it absolutely terrified him for once.

Your lips were chapped as well as your words. “I would rather burn myself than see my city be in the hands of them. And you know that.”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it and accept that your words of fury were keeping you hot-headed, he knew that the underlying factor was allowing you to want it to be the case.

For once, Jacob thought for once that he wasn’t that rash when it had been just him and Evie against the world.

-

“I can’t believe you let her do this. You didn’t follow after her either.”

“She’s brash, Evie. What can you expect? Her to hold my hand? A gentle scolding like I’m her father?” Jacob sulked, in retreat to the desk as he tried to shut his eyes, blocking the little light already coming in.

“You’re her friend, aren’t you? You would allow me to risk bloody castration?” He argued. Evie resumed her pacing in the same spot you had been in when you had been arguing with her and Henry.

Evie shot him a look over her shoulder. “She is, but I’m sure your... unrequited feelings for her might’ve helped to make her give in.”

Jacob had wished he may have been drinking in this instant, craning his head back to answer a remark about her and Greenie, but the realisation to his sister’s words had hit him smack in the face. “How... when-”

“I see how you pine for each other. I wasn’t born yesterday, Jacob.” Evie retorted, rolling her blue eyes as she chortled. “To put matters to worse, she’ll be throwing herself into a warzone.”

“She won’t, our Y/N knows what’s sensible and what’s not. I’m sure she wouldn’t have gone all that way, still raging.” Jacob frowned solemnly. “She couldn’t of.”

Evie caught onto her brother’s dower appearance, coming to assure him. “She’s the bravest person I know, maybe more impulsive than you yourself, but I know she would be on her wit’s end.”

Jacob chuckled dryly in thought. “You sound a lot like father right now.”

Evie hummed with satisfaction. “You know, he would’ve liked her? The two of you.”

Jacob could’ve felt more at ease when the strength had died down, a female Rook bursting through the door to their carriage, slicked with sweat and panting. “Boss, it’s Miss Y/N. We got ambushed by Bloody Nora’s men, she got away, but Y/N got shot!”

Jacob’s heart dropped lower in his chest at the news, and he wasn’t sure on how he was reacting truly to the news. He felt like part of him wanted to sink to the floor and crawl into a ball and die himself, but the other part was already dragging him out in a rush of adrenaline, a distressed Evie calling back for him to stop.

There was only thought, and it was getting Y/N, his love, out of there.

-

The blood was sticky and matted, half drying on her clothes and fingers as she lay like a dying fish in a dark corner; having dragged herself across the mud and dirt to get out of the firing line.

The wound stung in the side of her stomach: an easy shot from the side of her taken by the woman herself, taking her and the rest of the small group fo Rooks out within seconds, before fleeing. It was only when you were crashed and laying in the mud that you felt another beside you.

You clutched at your side with a sting, the call of your name over and over again, and when you had thought you had been killed and this was the afterlife already awaiting you, you had seen the flash of green and mustard yellow; a female Rook with the name of Alice trying to keep you focused.

“Miss! Miss! Are you okay? Oh, bloody hell! What do I do? I can’t just leave you?”

You hissed in agony and defeat from the situation, only being able to pull one name from your dry lips before the need of passing out fell upon you.

‘J-Jacob Frye... get Jacob Frye.’

You laid there motionlessly, blinking in and out of closing your eyes, forgetting where you were and only craving the darkness. It wasn’t cold nor warm, just welcoming, and you were losing track of time from where you were laying there for.

A noise sounded in the background, growing closer, and your free hand, instinctively went to try and grab at your sword-cane, but a hand came to stop you gently, almost delicately.

Your eyes focused once more, the blurry shape standing over you before coming down to kneel in front of you; another hand coming to support your side.

You cringed in more discomfort, screwing your eyes tight as you felt your eyes water. “I’m sorry,” you gritted your teeth, “I should’ve listened.”

“Hush, love, save your energy.” Jacob’s voice was soft and whispery, as he came to lie back behind you, holding you close to his chest as you leant into him. He cradled you in his broad arms, not bothered by the blood seeping into his fingers, the blood never seemed to stop flowing.

“You need to get to a hospital, to get the bullet out.”

You flinched sourly. “This is what I deserve,” you yelped at a sudden touch of your skin, feeling on fire. “I went against you all... and I deserve this agony.”

Your breathing was growing fainter, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried keeping your head from rolling back. “Just... let me close my eyes for a bit, Jacob.”

“No, I won’t let you do that.” He shook you gently, seeming to coax you in and out of consciousness. “Stay with me, Y/N. Please.”

You attempted to nod your head, your bloodied hand coming to rest of top of his larger one holding your wound, trying your best to squeeze it. “I’ll... I-- “Has anyone ever told you how lovely your eyes are?”

Jacob sourly bit his lip, moving round to see your facial expressions turn more neutral. He sighed, kissing your hairline. “No, you never have.”

“They’re so beautiful,” you cooned, your voice rather peaceful and collected for your state. “I just want to look at them.”

Jacob sighed at your requests, allowing you to crane your head back to allow your face to meet his, and you could directly stare up into his lovely hazel eyes.

“There they are.” You smiled softly, almost melancholic, a hand hesitantly coming to cradle the side of his face, stroking his sideburns with tenderness. “Thank you... Jacob.”

Your eyes fluttered shut: finally feeling at peace as all you wanted to do was welcome darkness, finally allowing yourself to be in the arms of the one you loved and cared for the most.

-

This sucked a bit, but I’ll be writing the second half of this! See you soon!

[iamtwilighttrash]

My Breaking Dawn

*warnings: mention of sex, minor cursing  

(Stephenie Meyer owns this series and it’s characters)

Chapter Two

Jacob dropped me back home at 7:30. The sky had begun to change from overcast blue to a muted pink, and together we watched from my small front porch as the sunset blossomed.

“You have fun tonight, Bells. I mean it. I’ll see you tomorrow!” He was eager to go to the Bachelor Party— I could see the anticipation shining in his eyes. He turned to rush off but I gripped his sleeve, stopping him in his tracks.

“Our last normal human day and I don’t even get a hug goodnight? Asshole.” Thoroughly chastised, he grinned and ducked his head before swooping me up in a crushing bear hug.

“Sorry, Bella. Love you like crazy.” I laughed when, at last, I was able to breathe again.

“Love you too, Jake. Get outta here you crazy wolf,” I teased, sticking my tongue out. He rolled his eyes but jogged to his bike. I was barely inside the house when the engine roared to life and he was tearing down the street.

“Was that Jake?” My dad’s voice, so close, startled me so much that I nearly jumped through my skin.

“Agh! Dad!” Charlie, soda in hand, leaned against the entryway to the kitchen and patted my head as I scowled at him. “Why are you still home?” He had made arrangements to stay over at Billy’s so that my party could take place at our house; Alice had nearly hugged him off his feet when he’d grudgingly agreed. 

“Sorry, Bells,” he said gruffly. “I just wanted to make sure that you got here safe, wasn’t tryin’ to give you a heart attack.” There was a little smile peeking on the corner of his mouth. I rolled my eyes, but felt deeply touched by the notion that he had wanted to make sure I made it safely.

“It’s okay. Yeah, that was Jake. He swung by the Cullens earlier to, er, spend time with me before I...got married.” But it was so much more than that. Soon, I would no longer be human. Neither Jake nor I knew what the future would hold after I was turned. 

“Well, I hope you too had a nice time. I know you promised me this before, but I just wanted to make sure that tonight-” 

“No drinking, no strippers, no damage?” I teased. Charlie reddened, all too easy to embarrass, and I giggled in passing as I veered towards to fridge. It was dinnertime for the human. Imagining that in Edward’s voice made me smile bigger in remembrance, and then blush at the thought of what was soon to come. Silly, silly girl. Ruled by your hormones. After rummaging through the fridge, I turned to assemble a grilled cheese and tomato soup. Comfort food. Comfort food for the fear of my wedding, but also to ease the anxiety of the party Alice was about to subject me too. Charlie watched me as I methodically sliced cheese, oiled a pan, and butter bread. 

“Do ya think you could make me one of those to go?” I flashed him a grin. 

“Going to miss having me around to cook?” 

“A little.” He seated himself at the table. The realization hit me hard; this was it. This was the last time I would be human, eating dinner with my father in his shabby kitchen. I would no longer be able to hug him without wanting to kill him. 

My dad, my biggest supporter, and he would have to fear for his life around me.

“Bells, what’s the matter?” The tomato soup was started to scald to the pan. I quickly moved to stir it. 

 “Just nervous.” With my back turned, I hoped he could accept the lie. 

“Bella.” The firmness made me turn to look at him, our eyes locked. “I know I might not have acted the right way, you know, when you first told me. But I...” Both of our cheeks were on fire. The pregnancy accusation. “I want you to know that I’m happy you’re marrying Edward. When I see you look at each other, well,” he got a sad look on his face, and swiped a hand through his hair, “I remember how I used to feel when I looked at your mom.” My vision blurred through surprised tears. “Me and your mom didn’t work out, but I know what it feels to be in love. And you’re not like me, Bells, or her. You’re strong, and determined, and if you and Edward have a problem you’ll fight to fix it. He’s different too. I can tell...well, aside from when I almost killed him for running off... that he’s going to be a good man to you. I just wanted you to know that.”

I walked over, bent down to hug him tight. I had not spent enough time hugging Charlie; I knew that now that my human life would soon be over. But, I resolved to not feel guilt, and instead served up our grilled cheese, listened to my father talk about his day, and spent a few precious last moments with someone I loved. 

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

Angela threw her pillow towards Alice in disbelief, shocked but giggling at the question. Alice feigned an OUCH! at the pillow’s impact, and cast me a sly wink. I was flushing just as hard as Angela, and the question hadn’t even been directed towards me. 

“Alice! So not fair to put me on the spot like!” 

“Asking if you and your long-time boyfriend have had sex is not an unfair question! It’s a Bachelorette party!” Rosalie let out a little laugh as well, and Leah smirked from her perch on the arm of my love-seat. 

“Agh, alright. Yes. We have.” Everyone let out a girlish squeal of excitement. I was a little shocked; was I the only virgin I knew besides Edward? Not that virginity mattered much to me, but it was still a little surprising. I was no prude, and I fully accepted that people in high school had a lot of sex; I had heard all of the almost comical story of Jessica  losing her virginity to Mike, which Edward had complained about to me in his car after school-- The details were so much worse in her head, love. You have no idea how lucky you are. -- but I still had not heard about Angela and Ben. 

“How was it? When was it?” 

“About a month ago. And it was,” she gave us a lewd eyebrow wiggle, “phenomenal.” All of the other girls, myself included, let out obnoxiously loud laughs. “But enough about me. Bella.” Oh no. I knew it was coming. “What about you and Edward?” 

“Ah...well...we both decided to wait. Until after...marriage.” I had struggled for a moment, fumbling on the words. I thought that my skin was ablaze. 

“Oh man, I don’t know how you guys managed!” Alice teased. I gave her a look. Angela gripped my hand.

“Does that mean that tomorrow...the honeymoon...” As my cheeks darkened and I bobbed my head in a shy nod, Angela smiled. “That’s so romantic!”

“Nervous?” asked Rosalie. Her gentle fingers were busy braiding Leah’s shoulder-length hair, but both of them gave me their full attention. Leah was flipping through the pages of an old magazine that my dad kept on the coffee table. I knew she would rather be out in the woods, out with her pack, but the fact that she chose to be with me made my lips curl on their own accord.

“Rose...” I scolded, half-serious. She gave me an innocent look. I sighed, taking a sip of the soda to my left. The carbonation had all but evaporated, but the liquid soothed the dryness of my tongue. Soon, human food would mean nothing to me. I indulged in another watered down sip. “I guess...” I looked around. These were my friends. I had to stop being so embarrassed about sex when I was the one who had begged Edward to have it. “Yes. Yes, I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be,” said Leah. There was always a bite to her tone but I knew she meant the words with kindness.

“Yeah, Bella,” Alice scooted over to give me a one-armed hug; as always, the coolness of her body settled me. “You’ll be okay. I’ve packed some...um...helpful things in your suitcase.” The blush came rushing back with a vengeance. Angela guffawed into the crook of her elbow. Rosalie smirked, tying of Leah’s braids skillfully.

“Oh my God, Alice!”

“Oh, don’t panic Bella!” My almost-sister-in-law nudged me. “I can almost be certain you’ll thank me later.” The wink almost pushed me over the edge.

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

It was hours later, alone in my own bed, that the true gravity of my situation hit me. I was about to be married woman, say goodbye to my human family and friends, lose my virginity, and become a vampire. Isabella Swan was being shredded to pieces and rebuilt: Bella Cullen. Beautiful, hopefully graceful, and bloodthirsty Bella Cullen, who could wrestle with mountain lions and play baseball during thunder storms and race werewolves. Newborn Bella Cullen, who would have bright red eyes and uncontrollable thirst.

Was I ready to say goodbye to Isabella Swan? Was I ready to walk away from my parents and Angela and possibly even Jacob?

On my desk, I could just make out the photograph of Edward and I that we had taken over summer. Even with my dull human senses, his beauty stood out in the darkness. My heart thumped.

Yes. Yes, I was ready. For an eternity with him, there was nothing I wouldn’t do.

[theeeveetamer]

(1/6) I don't think you're interested in Smash Bros at all, but I got Smash Bros Ultimate pretty recently and I'm fascinated at the specific choices it made for the Fates-characters. (Note: there are fighting characters, who you can actually play as, and "spirits" who power the characters and give you advantages. Corrin is a character, while, say, Jacob is a spirit, and you fight the spirits to obtain them)

(2/6) So first thing is, Elise and Sakura both picked Isabelle from Animal Crossing. Arguably the least threatening fighter in the entire game, since at least Kirby has actual attacks while Isabelle just whacks people with a net. Elise and Sakura are also the ONLY ones who share a fighter across the Nohr/Hoshido divide, the others are all unique. However, Sakura offers poison immunity as a support ability, while Elise instead has Autoheal, which is where they differ significantly.

(3/6) The character that Leo picked as his fighter is Robin from FE Awakening. Also a squishy magic-user, general tactician, and avid reader, so Leo probably figured it was the closest to himself he could get. Takumi, meanwhile, mains Pit from Kid Icarus, for similar reasons -- Pit's primary method of attack in his original game is a bow, later specified as a bow crafted by his goddess herself, so it's a Fujin Yumi-analogue. Interesting note: Leo has weapon-triangle-advantage over Takumi.

(4/6 oh god I'm so sorry) Camilla's fighter is f!Corrin, which ties into her personality of getting a wee bit too attached to Corrin. Notably though, the specific colour palette for Corrin in this fight is black, implying a Nohr-aligned Corrin. Hinoka meanwhile picked Lucina, also a strong female fighter, and the stage she's fought on is Japan-inspired to represent Hoshido, plus it has strong winds because of Hinoka being a pegasus rider in Fates.

(5/6 I'M SO SORRY) The most interesting thing though is how the game treats Xander and Ryoma. Ryoma is fought before you can get him (he mains Chrom, btw, which is an interesting choice since that's a main FE character), and afterwards opens a dojo for your other spirits to get stronger at. Xander, however, is not fought in the game at all -- you need to summon him instead using Camilla, Leo, and Elise, his family. Also, Ryoma has a Neutral attribute, but Xander is an Attack spirit.

(6/6 FINALLY) There are a lot more things to talk about wrt the choices in what stage and circumstances they're fought in and what moves they prefer, and I didn't even talk about Jacob and Azura and Garon, but in addition to Tumblr's character limit choking me this was the most interesting bit so I had to share!

I can already tell how much thought you put into this just based on the fact that you sent these in reverse order lmao.

I’ll admit that I don’t care much about Smash (other than as an excuse to assert my dominance over my friends, because seriously they all suck) So I’ll admit that I don’t know much about the new game.

That is pretty neat, though. If I didn’t have six million games to buy then I might consider picking it up, but alas I a broke and there are other games to play at the moment. Thanks for sharing anyways, though!

[iri-lynx]

(slams hands on table) TELL US ABOUT JACOB CASEMENT AND HIS PARTNER AND THEIR DYNAMICS WITH THEIR SON! (is this what you meant?) [wilhelminafujita]

Your wish is my command! 

So, Jacob is pretty psychologically damaged and traumatized after the events of the cursed vaults, not just because of the vaults but also because he became a death eater, in a misguided attempt to take them down from the inside, and he saw and did a lot of horrible things (but that’s a story for another time). He moved to Ireland to where his mum grew up, so he could get away from everything and re-connect with his heritage. He moved in with his aunt and started to work in her pub. Because the community was so small, nearly everyone came into the pub at one point and that’s where he encountered his future partner, Cathal O’ Connell (pronounced Caw-hull)

Cathal is from a prominent old, Irish magic family and is the teacher in the local magic school (He comes from a long line of magic teachers). He was instantly interested in Jacob when he first met him, not just because he found him very attractive but because Cathal’s quite a powerful empath and feels people’s feelings and emotions very strongly. When he met Jacob, he was hit with this wall of pain,grief, guilt and profound sadness and he just thought, “Oh my god, I need to help this guy because if I don’t he’s gonna destroy himself”. 

He started to invite Jacob out to show him around the area and to come to and sit in on some of his classes, so Jacob could learn more about Irish magic. Jacob was reluctant at first, because he had developed deep trust issues, but eventually he accepted Cathal’s invitations just so he would leave him alone, but he found he actually enjoyed spending time with him. Jacob was still very closed off though and it took him a very long time to properly open up to and fall for Cathal. Cathal on the other hand, fell for Jacob very quickly once they started hanging out, which seriously surprised Cathal.  Cathal had been confused about his sexuality for a long time, mostly due to growing up in small, rural community in Ireland which wasn’t very accepting of anyone that was different, but when he started to fall for Jacob he was like, “wow, ok, i am really, really gay”. Cathal was the first person that Jacob felt properly at ease with since before the vaults partially because Cathal could literally feel exactly what Jacob was feeling and could understand him, and was the first person he actually opened up to about the traumatic stuff he had been through.

To talk about Cathal a little more, he’s literally a walking meme:

He’s basically Gilderoy Lockhart, but if Lockhart was actually smart and somewhat bearable and not a crook, but he is equally as chaotic. He’s a very impulsive person so if he feels like doing something, he just does it and doesn’t care what others think, which often creates absolute chaos in the classroom. He’s also a brutally honest person and just says the first thing that comes to his head, which combined with his impulsiveness doesn’t mix well, so he’s not the most professional teacher ( he will fight a kid, he doesn’t give a fuck). But he is actually a very good teacher and his students love him, he’s just a little unorthodox when it comes to his teaching methods. Watching Cathal try and teach his class was the first time Jacob genuinely laughed in years and Cathal’s heart literally melted when he heard him laugh. It derailed the whole class, cuz Cathal became so flustered he could barely teach and everyone knew exactly why apart from Jacob. Also, Nobody is sure if he is a fashion icon or a fashion disaster. 

As for Jacob and Cathal’s dynamics with Darren:

Cathal was one of the first people to come across the aftermath of the attack on Darren’s family and instantly decided to take baby Darren home until they found his next of kin (they never did). Jacob was away at the time, maybe visiting Dana or something, and he wasn’t too pleased when he was welcomed home to Cathal with a random crying baby.

Jacob was pretty hesitant about taking care of baby Darren, because he was still only learning to look after himself again and neither of them had been in a long-term, healthy relationship before, so adding a baby to that equation was almost too much. But Cathal managed to convince him to let them look after Darren until they found someone else to look after him. But pretty soon, Jacob’s old protective instinct kicked in and they both fell for Darren entirely. 

They are not the most responsible parents tbh, which isn’t surprising since they’re both pretty young and they’re walking disasters, but they are so loving and so caring. 

They kinda had absolutely no idea what they were doing when they were raising Darren, and Darren’s childhood wasn’t exactly normal but Darren definitely wouldn’t have changed it for anything. Darren has an extremely close relationship with his dads and loves and respects them a lot, especially because they gave him a lot of privacy and freedom. (seriously, sometimes Darren would just disappear and leave a note being like “gone to see Cillian and Evie, see you in a few days xx) and they’d be like, “cool”). Sometimes, Jacob finds himself just watching Cathal and Darren and he just feels overwhelmed with joy and happiness because he can’t believe how lucky he was to find so much love in his life, especially after so many years of despair and hopelessness. 

[callmederok]

All Answered: 49 Not so Nice OC asks

1. What is one word to shut them up?

Just ignore him...or act like the conversation is over...

2. What is the thing they feel the most guilty about?

Trying to resurrect his mother with Alchemy

Extra:

Being too much nice to his friends(to the point that he feels that now they can’t even standing up without his help)

3. What is the worst pain they’ve ever experienced?

Is not about physical pain, but being trapped in a body incapable to feel his touch of things/people, for four years(due his punishment from God/Truth) for him was like suffering from a Cruciatus Curse but aimed to torture only his psyche 

4. Describe their worst nightmare.

His nightmares in general are more based on psychological things rather than things with scary monsters…in general in year 1 to 3, he dreams mostly about his mother in a form of a wraith and simply torments him with flashbacks, fueling those 3 fears he had during the Fear Vault(Her, God and his father). After Year 4, his worst nightmare is being continually backstabbed by his friends. After Year 5 is more about having nightmares where he is incapable to save anyone...

5. List 3 fears; one “surface level” fear, one “repressed” fear, and one “deep dark” fear.

Surface fear: Losing control over his rage

Repressed: Being so nice and selfless to not having time to take care of himself

Deep Dark: Losing himself(like changing so much to not feel himself anymore)

6. What is something that never fails to make them feel sick?

People smoking, Rape jokes, anything that resemble how the broodmother are made in Dragon Age(i can’t explain it decently, but it’s like a mix of: rape, cannibalism, torture and disgusting mutations), hypocrisy 

7. What feature (physical or otherwise) do they hate most about themselves?

His scars, Penny finds them hot and the proofs of his braveness, but David even though is quite proud of them, he hates them because they make him more scary

8. Do they have anything that triggers them?

I dare you to call him liar when he is telling the truth...he literally starts a verbal fight for the sake of convincing you that he is not lying

9. What is their greatest physical weakness?

His stomach...is very delicate, he doesn’t even like to fight when he feels bloated or have some random cramps...basically his worst enemy is himself...

10. What is their greatest mental weakness?

Trust issues with quick to anger...

11. Do they have any vices?

I always described him as a shy moderate guy...like the classic anonymous guy’s personality in the body and mind of a “natural born hero” but he loves two (probably) vices: food(give him some sandwich with salmon and you have a guy willingly to help you).

12. Have they ever done something illegal? What was it?

Technically transmuting random junk in pure gold and use it for buying stuff, is illegal in his family, like also transmuting his mother’s dead body trying to resurrect her...David actually breaks many Hogwarts’ rules, but actual laws? I don’t think he ever did that...at least during HPHM, then in the cursebreakers!AU the laws are blurry, because for the sake of breaking a curse, David always uses some unorthodox methods...so...it’s hard to fully answer this question.

13. Which of the 7 Deadly Sins best describes them?

Wrath. He has problem in managing his anger, he enjoys fighting a bit too much for being a duelist, at the same time his angry to himself for liking it so much, and he is angry to his biological family for taught him the ways of violence and fighting. He never been violent towards his friends(love interest included) and family(aside Jacob, but it’s like a sibling-rivalry, they don’t hate each other but they communicate through duels and physical fights), but sometimes between the Vaults, the favors he asks to his friends, and trying to actually enjoy Hogwarts like a decent random student, he doesn’t have time to deal with his mental health, having constantly postponing himself for the sake of the people around him...and this, makes him even more angry and stressed...in a ideal hogwarts(where Jacob never been trapped) David would be the most calm and quiet(to the point to sound boring or a “wanna-be Rowan”) Gryffindor/Slytherin (i say Slytherin because my Jacob is a Slytherin but David negotiated with Minerva for being a Gryffindor without being sorted by the Hat...and if the Hat puts family member together...David would be a Slytherin if Jacob was never trapped in the Vault)

14. Are they prone to outbursts (of violence, extreme emotion… exc… )?

Yeah but never being violent on friends or family...only yelling...if David will be violent on someone who is a friend...it means that David is quitting on that friend and he is having the last outburst with them..and it’s not like actual violence...but my David when Ben begins with his “i wanna be brave”-thing, he got mad, enough to pull Ben against a wall and after showing his many scars on his body explains the difference between being brave and being reckless.

15. Who do they hate the most?

Hard to say...the top 3 is: Merula, Snape and Dumbledore

Reason to hate Merula: Literally everything she did in the game, bullying, hate-speech, indirectly attempted murder(TWICE), stealing, lying, racism and attempted emotional manipulation...

Reason to hate Snape: Worst teacher ever! (the kind that makes you hate a subject), insults, the classic list of bad things Snape does in the books...

Reason to hate Dumbledore: Too old to actually understand younger people(like students), his wisdom fails in compensating his huge lack of common sense...

16. Is there anyone who makes them feel inferior?

His friends, by expecting David being able to do everything in any possible moments(but mostly being able to save Hogwarts all by himself) raised up quite a lot the “bar” of the minimum expectations for David to the point that if David fails in one thing maybe for a distractions or for the sake of enjoying something without feeling bad…

Short Version: His friend made him feel inferior and yet because his achievement he feels superior(but without arrogance) to anyone else while still having a low self-esteem, in a paradoxical loophole that would end soon as David becomes an adult and quits on his friends...

17. What sound always gives them a headache?

People yelling(and the room is small, so the sounds it’s like resound/rumble and it seems even louder), a baby crying, nails on a blackboard.

18. Is there a certain flavor that disgusts them?

Eggs, they’re his food-nemesis, he can’t tolerate the small and the taste, he cooks them when his friends ask for them, but it’s like being tortured.

19. Do they consider themselves ugly?

Only scary...but not ugly(scars aside)

20. Do they consider themselves unloveable?

He still doesn’t understand how and why Penny can love him, because he thinks is “very hard to love”, there are days when they’re sleeping together and he is having thoughts like “How the hell i did it? i can’t believe she loves me!”

21. What is something that causes them great anxiety?

Deadlines, like “you have three days for doing [this thing] or [this other thing] will happen” and the idea that R is around keeping his friends as hostages.

22. Do they have any mental illnesses?

Ptsd, Anxiety...anger issues...those counts as mental illness?

23. Have they ever been assaulted/abused/raped?

Verbally assaulted and verbally abused, yes...and the only thing close to rape...it’s complicated and this blog is for everyone so i can’t really say...but it should count as “being overly passionate” for 4-5 seconds because a misunderstanding with Penny

24. Do they fear the possibility of being assaulted/abused/raped?

Big, Strong, Scary-looking, when he was very young yeah...but now? You’re either stupid or you like pain for trying to assault him...

(40 years old David)(for the sake of how big and strong he looks like):

25. Have they ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust?

You can’t betray David, i mean you can, but i mean in a “bold of you to assume that David blindly trusted you all along and he didn’t have a plan for this situation”, you can surprise David by doing something unpredictable but he is so paranoid and anxious about anything related to the Vaults/R/Cabala that the moment you think to betray him, he probably already had a plan to deal with(a stupid plan, like always hiding a few knives on the internal side of his clothes, like hidden pockets and stuff)

26. Have they ever been seriously injured?

Let’s see:

- At least two scars on his face(one of them near the eye, made by Greyback)

- Many scars on his body(most of them made by the Chimaera)

- One missing arm(replaced with a metallic prosthesis that combines magic and muggle technology)

27. How many times have they been in the hospital?

Like Kettleburn, David has a bed with his name in the Hospital Wing

28. Is there a certain type of person that disgusts them?

Liars, cheaters, people loyal to nobody and that they feel superior to laws, Merula.

29. Does what they cannot see scare them?

It depends on the situations...but in a fighting situation is more stressful than scary...

30. Have they ever been bullied?

HPHM has Merula...and Snape being mean for the sake of being mean...so yeah!

31. Do they have self-confidence or self-image issues?

Yes he has, mostly about having scars and looking scary(during HPHM).

32. Do they have a bad relationship with their parents?

Bad relationship is an euphemism...with his father there are moments when during his teenhood they both get violent to each other, mostly because Father want him to save Jacob soon as possible and he gets mad for being so slow, and David gets mad at him for his inability to understand that he is trying hard.

With his mother(or her ghost) is just verbal abuse, with her praising him as the Voldemort’s second coming, like the ultimate muggleborn-killer(she died as a crazy pureblood supremacist)

With his foster-family/neighbors(also known as Badea’s family) everything is peaceful and nice.

33. Have they ever been in a relationship that didn’t work out so well?

David’s only relationship is with Penny, and they’re doing good, thanks for asking u.u

34. Have they ever self harmed?

Only when he tries to do some very complicated acrobatics on the broom...so it’s more accidental self-harm.

35. If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?

Removing his ability to feel anger/rage.

36. Are they in control of their emotions, or are their emotions in control of them?

David is quite controlled by his emotions and instincts, that’s why every plan he has before a duel/fight is based on how much prepared he is, like brewing potions, prepare some rope, cleaning his knives, studying the weak spots of his next enemy and stuff like that, because he knows that he will be hardly able to improvise soon as the fight “becomes emotional”(this, during HPHM, as an adult, David will change quite soon)

37. Have they ever had their freedom taken away?

Not long enough to be problematic.

38. Have they ever been imprisoned?

In the AfterHPHM...a couple of times during his days as cursebreakers...mostly misunderstandings and in the worst case scenario he freed himself and byebye forever!

39. Have they ever been accused of something they didn’t do?

More times than he can count...in the end the truth came out and everything was fine...sort of...

40. Do they often blame themselves for other people’s problems?

He blames himself for caring too much for other people

Year 1 to 4: Being nice is wonderful, their smiles are so beautiful that makes worth all the pain and fatigue i had to deal for helping them!

Year 5: I really need more time for myself...my friends are being quite clingy.

Year 6-7: These little shits can’t even talk without me helping them to move their lips and tongues! I guess i just learned why being a hero sucks!

41. Do they get sick often?

Not to often but the humidity/rainy days are painful for him because his metallic arm and the phantom pain...and the pain is like a cruciatus curse focused on the arm.

42. Are they comfortable with where they are in life?

Only because there are a few things in hogwarts that are worth of the shit he is dealing with(Penny, Rowan, Pitts’ sandwiches, Quidditch)

43. Do they wish that they could change their pasts?

Of course...losing the sense of touch for like almost five years because you tried(and failed) to resurrect your mother, met God, receive the punishment, makes you quite regretful 

44. What’s one thing they wish they could do more often, but can’t?

Trying to break every rule in Hogwarts for the sake of making a new record...but he is too busy with Vaults, Friends, Love and Sport...

45. What is the emotion they most commonly experience?

Rage...everyone in some way does that right exact thing that may ruin David’s mood or plans or everything else, like David gets angry(but he repress that rage) everytime that Tulip or Tonks ask to assist them for a prank in exchange of precious infos related to Vaults. David gets angry every time Merula or Emily Tyler is around, David gets angry every time Snape put his eyes on him, or every time his friends are insensitive and tell him that he is obsessed with the vaults. Yeah there are many occasion where David is quiet and happy, but in HPHM(thanks maybe to Jam City bad writing) it seems like that everyone and everything likes to put MC of the verge of a rage-madness, like everything is eager to see him doing the magic version of a mass-shooting. That’s why the Cursebreaker!AU exist...David is so done with his friends, to basically quit on them and leave Britain and be a travelling cursebreaker so he can deal with his stress and repressed rage, and Penny understanding the situation in Hogwarts/Britain chooses to go with him(there are other reasons for David and Penny to be cursebreakers togethers but this one is related to Rage)

46. Have they ever contemplated suicide?

A couple of times...he was also planning to kill himself before the end of year 3...

47. Have they ever gone so far as to attempt suicide?

He tried to attempt, then he changed his mind, after some thinking...

48. Is there anyone that they would willingly kill?

Anyone who harms Penny(and her family), Rowan, Badea(and her family)...

49. If [name] was put into ______ situation, they’d rather die than live to see it through.

I can’t answer this one...we go to a whole level of angst, a level of angst where i’m ashamed to even think about it...we go in the “deep web” of angst...like Hespith of Dragon Age, explaining how the Broodmothers are made...i refuse to answer!

[iknowyoubutyoudontknow]

Jealousy Edition

Request: How would react if there S/o had a male best friend who they talk to and about all day and half the night (Jealous edition)

Note: I don't know if it fits their character perfectly, gomene.

Here ya' go, hope ya' enjoy it, lass/lads!

Altaïr:

Altaïr was happy at first, if something happens to him you had someone to rely on, but after a time he felt rather jealous since you won't stop talking. So now here you where, a hand on your mouth and pinned against the wall by Altaïr who watched you with an slight angry scrowl on his face. His eyes narrowed as he begins to speak in a low husky voice;

"I'm your men, aren't I? So stop talking about someone other than me.."

Connor:

When you started to talk endlessly about your friend, Connor was kind of hurt, so Everytime you look at him you saw those big round puppy eyes watching you. But God no, he forbid himself to disturb your ranting. But may have someone mercy on your friend, if not the stare Connor gives him, everytime they meet, could kill. After all, you were his wife!

"You can be happy that she likes you, personally I wish you the baddest luck anyone can have, fancy meeting you, sir."

Edward:

After two hours Edward couldn't take it anymore, he was quite angry, even those little kisses he gives you wouldn't shut you up! How he hates the name that keeps flowing out of your mouth and if little kisses won't help, then Edward might as well just make a heated session out of it. For his sailors pride, and his feelings, be sure he won't take it easy on you.

"I don't like sharing things, even thought it would be great sharing your voice screaming my name.."

Ezio:

As soon as Ezio understood that you won't stop talking about a friend, a name he doesn't memorize duo the fact they were practically rivals, he wouldn't leave your side. Craving your attention with kisses and cuddles, maybe even being a bit more pervy as normal, there's no way Ezio would let an other men your attention without fighting for it, all in one you were his ragazza.

"Bella~? You're my *moglie, can you stop talking about some *Stronzo..?"

Evie:

Even if Evie doesn't likes it when you talk about an other men in front of her, she can't change it, so the only thing is to talk with you. Make here and there a sneaky comment and clearly show her dislike on that person. Glares at every male you both meet, even at her brother, and kisses you when you start to talk again. It isn't really hard for anyone to notice that she's jealous.

"Oh? Me and jealous, stop joking, as if I would be jealous of someone I barely know.."

Haytham:

He wouldn't show it but he clearly wasn't happy that your attention was on an other men, so don't worry too much if said other men was a little scared when Haytham was near. Yeah, Haytham tries to be friendly to him, but still every glance he gives him was a warning, even shaking hands was like a compatition of strength -something Haytham is a master in.

"My, my.. What pleasure to meet you, don't you think?"

Jacob:

Whining, all day long, louder Everytime you tried to talk again, he just wouldn't stop. He won't even let you hug him, it confused you, sometimes you even see him staring at other girls. He tried to make you jealous, with every method he knows, and God Jacob it damn good at it too. So you stopped talking and tried to get the attention of your husband, maybe a little unfair.

"That's your own medicine, darling."

Shay:

If you won't stop talking he would take it upon himself to make you forget what you were talking about, a simple way. Kisses to interrupt you, random compliments, hints and all that, it left you confused. One kiss longer than the other, in the end you don't even wanted to stop talking if you always got kisses for it. Still you shouldn't take it too far, would be bad if you couldn't walk for a few days.

"Ya' could just 'ave asked if ya' needed some tension between us~"

Moglie => Wife

Stronzo => *censored*

_____________________

Extra ending: (Edward/Shay)

"Maybe I should talk more about my friends.." smirked the [H/C] women as she hugged her husband from behind. "Stop thinking about it, lass. That was damn unfair from you." groaned said male and crossed his arms, not wanting to talk about it anymore. So the female, also known as [Y/N], looked curiously over his shoulder and looked at his face. A few second later her hand was on his cheek and squeezed it slightly, small giggles escaped her mouth. "Are you pouting? Come on, don't be such child!" "Am not!" "Surely, wait till your crew hears about that!" were the last words before the female pushed herself away from her husband and ran, as quickly as her legs could carry her, out of the shared room. "DON'T YOU DARE, [Y/N]!"

[bartsugsy]

What’s your favourite Robron moment ?? 😊

OK YOU SENT THIS DAYS AGO AND IT’S BEEN STRESSING ME OUT BECAUSE HOW DOES ONE (1) HUMAN CHOOSE A SINGLE MOMENT???? answer: they do not choose a single moment

ANYWAY RULES ARE FOR LOSERS HERE’S 20 RANDOM MOMENTS I LOVE:

20. THAT TIME DURING THE AFFAIR ERA WHERE ROBERT WAS LIKE HEY AARON AFTER I’M MARRIED WE’RE STOPPING THIS I’M BREAKING UP WITH YOU AND THAT’S THAT AND AARON WAS LIKE ok but what if we didn’t AND ROBERT WAS LIKE OK GOOD POINT WELL MADE GUESS WE SHOULD MEET IN A BARN AND BANG ON THE DAY OF MY WEDDING THIS CAN ONLY GO WELL

19. THAT TIME WHEN ROBERT PAID AN INSANE AMOUNT OF MONEY TO HELP AARON FIND SANDRA BC HE NEEDED HER FOR HIS CASE AND THEN REFUSED TO LET AARON GO TO SEE SANDRA ALONE AND WAS JUST GENUINELY QUIETLY SUPPORTIVE. AND THEY STILL LOVED EACH OTHER AND AARON FELT THAT AND FELT LIKE HE HAD TO KISS ROBERT THEN AND THERE BECAUSE HE DIDN’T REALISE THAT ROB WOULD WAIT FOR HIM TO SORT HIS SHIT OUT FIRST BUT ROB EXPLICITLY CLARIFIED FOR HIM THAT HE WASN’T GOING ANYWHERE

18. A LITTLE EARLIER IN THAT ERA, WHEN AARON WAS HIDING OUT IN IRELAND AND ROBERT WOULD JUST WALK INTO EVERY SCENE DEMANDING TO KNOW WHERE AARON WAS. EVERY SINGLE SCENE.

17. THAT TIME AARON SPOKE HORRIBLE FRENCH (HE LIVED IN FRANCE FOR Y E A R S HOW DID HE COPE) AND ROB WAS LIKE ........i’m dating the hottest man alive?

16. THAT TIME ROBERT LITERALLY GAVE UP HIS COMPANY AND HIS ENTIRE FUCKIN HOUSE JUST TO GET AARON BACK BC HE WAS SO TERRIFIED FOR HIS SAFETY

15. THAT TIME DURING THE AFFAIR WHEN ROBERT FINANGLED IT SO THAT ALL OF THE WHITES WENT ON HOLIDAY AND HE JUST FULL ON MOVED AARON INTO HOME FARM AND THEY ACTED LIKE A FULL ON MARRIED COUPLE FOR THE ENTIRE WEEK, LIKE THE MOST INSANE PREVIEW OF THEIR FUTURE EVER DESIGNED

14. THAT TIME!!!! LACHLAN THREATENED ROBERT!!! SO AARON JUST FUCKIN???? KIDNAPPED???? HIM?????????? A LITERAL TEENAGER???????????? AARON KIDNAPPED A FUCKIN TEENAGER BC HE THREATENED TO PUT ROBERT IN JAIL (and yes used methods that hit v close to home for aaron to do so) BUT HONESTLY HE SHOVED A TEENAGER INTO HIS BOOT BC??? SURE?????? they’re both insane

13. OH YEAH THAT TIME ROBERT BURNED 100K BECAUSE AARON, FEELING ANNOYED AND PETTY, INSINUATED THAT ROBERT LOVED MONEY MORE THAN AARON AND FRANKLY AARON IS ONE OF THE ONLY PEOPLE ROBERT DOESN’T PUT MONEY AHEAD OF (or he used to, before he Grew As A Person tm) (i’m sure that won’t stick

12.THAT TIME THEY GOT MARRIED

11. ROBERT JUST WANTED TO THROW AARON THIS MASSIVE SYMBOLIC SHOW OF LOVE AND DEVOTION BEFORE HE WENT TO PRISON AND HE WANTED IT TO BE PERFECT AND WHEN IT WASN’T HE WENT OFF IN A STROP BUT AARON COULD LITERALLY GET MARRIED TO ROBERT WHILST STANDING IN A PILE OF LITERAL RUBBISH AND BE HAPPY BC AARON DOESNT CARE HE JUST WANTS TO BE MARRIED (ROBERT ALSO JUST WANTS TO BE MARRIED BUT HE HAS STANDARDS OK) AND SO AARON WENT AFTER HIM AND TALKED HIM DOWN AND THEN THEY JUST SAID FUCK IT AND GOT MARRIED ALONE, IN A PLACE THAT WAS SPECIAL TO THEM, BECAUSE IT WAS LITERALLY JUST FOR THEM AND ABOUT THEIR LOVE FOR EACH OTHER??? AND IT WAS ABOUT KNOWING THAT AFTER PRISON THEY’D STILL COME BACK TO ONE ANOTHER????? AND THAT TOOK LONGER THAN EXPECTED (WAY LONGER) (AND WAS A LOT MESSIER) BUT IT STILL HAPPENED BC THEIR FUTURES ARE WITH ONE ANOTHER AND THEY EARNED THAT AND BOTH FOUGHT FOR EACH OTHER MASSIVELY

10. THAT TIME AARON WAS IN HOSPITAL DURING SSW AND ROBERT SAT IN THE WAITING ROOM WITH CHAS AND LOOKED DEVASTATED BC HE COULD LOSE THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE NBD. ROBERT WAS SO SAD BUT ALSO SO FRUSTRATED WITH HIMSELF AND HE FINALLY GOT TO EXPRESS HIS REGRETS OVER THE AFFAIR ERA AND HOW MUCH ~TIME HE WASTED FUCKIN AROUND BC HE WAS SCARED AND ALSO LBR WANTED THAT WHITE MONEY AND POWER WHEN INSTEAD HE COULD HAVE JUST BEEN FUCKIN HAPPY AND LIVING HIS LIFE WITH AARON, WHICH IS ULTIMATELY THE ONLY FUTURE HE WANTS FOR HIMSELF AND AALDHSDFOH THE JOURNEY!! ROBERT SUGDEN!!!! HAS BEEN ON!!!!!!! IS SO GOOD FIGHT ME

9. SPEAKING OF HOSPITALS, THAT TIME ROBERT GOT HIT BY A CAR AND AARON FUCKIN RACED TO THE HOSPITAL AND CRIED AT ROB’S BEDSIDE DESPITE HAVING OSTENSIBLY MOVED ON FROM ROBERT BC HEY NEWSFLASH AARON NEVER STOPPED LOVING ROBERT JACOB SUGDEN. AND THEN THEY PROMISED TO BE FRIENDS AND ROBERT TOLD AARON HE’D BE THE BEST FRIEND HE’D EVER HAVE AND I DIED.

8. THAT TIME THEY JOKED ABOUT ANAL SEX IN THE SCRAPYARD #GAYCULTURE

7. THAT TIME!!!! ROBERT WENT TO A GAY BAR!!! TO TRY AND GET OVER AARON!!!! BUT BECAUSE AARON IS A FUCKIN LUNATIC WHO, AGAIN, NEVER STOPPED LOVING ROBERT JACOB SUGDEN, AARON FOLLOWED HIM AND THEN JUST SORT OF LURKED IN THE SHADOWS LOOKING SAD AND ESSENTIALLY WAS PREPARED TO TORTURE HIMSELF WITH WATCHING ROB PICK UP A DUDE BC HE COULDN’T STOP ROBERT BUT ALSO, INTERNALLY, HE REALLY WANTED TO STOP ROBERT

6. OH AND THEN AARON SAW ROB GO OUTSIDE ALONE AND TOOK HIS CHANCE TO SAY SOMETHING AND THEY JUST SORT OF SADLY FLIRTED WITH EACH OTHER BECAUSE THEY BOTH DESPERATELY WANTED TO BE TOGETHER??? AND FELT THAT THEY COULDN’T BE???? BUT STILL COULDN’T NOT FLIRT WITH ONE ANOTHER????????

5. THAT TIME AARON WAS LIKE HEY ROBERT DON’T COME TO COURT WITH ME AND ROB WAS LIKE .....YEAH WHATEVER AND THEN SHOWED UP IN COURT ANYWAY AND AARON WAS LIKE ??? BUT ALSO :’) AND ROB WAS JUST LIKE LOL SINCE WHEN DO I EVER LISTEN TO U

4. THAT TIME THEY TOOK THEMSELVES OFF TO A HOTEL AND THEN LEFT IT IN A LITERAL STATE??? AND THEN JOKED ABOUT IT???? BC THEY SPENT ALL NIGHT BANGING????? AND AARON HAD LITERALLY FORCED ROBERT TO TURN HIS PHONE OFF BC CLEARLY ROBERT HAS A PROBLEM #relatable #me (oh and meanwhile gerry was dying but yk we’re talking abt robron here)

3. GDI THAT TIME WHEN ROBERT LITERALLY THOUGHT HE HAD GOTTEN AWAY WITH SLEEPING WITH REBECCA AND STILL TOLD AARON THE TRUTH ANYWAY BC HE JUST??? COULDN’T LIE TO HIS HUSBAND???????? ROBERT, WHO LIED ABOUT EVERYTHING??? AND AARON UNDERSTOOD THAT GROWTH DESPITE OBVIOUSLY BEING HEARTBROKEN AND DEVASTATED RIP, BC AARON KNOWS ROBERT. THEY KNOW EACH OTHER SO WELL!!!!! 

2. THAT TIME WHEN AARON WAS SO ANNOYED THAT HE COULDN’T BONE ROBERT IN PEACE THAT HE DECIDED TO SUGGEST THEY MOVE IN TOGETHER AND THEN THEY (ULTIMATELY) FUCKIN DID AND THEN ROB WAS LIKE HEEEEY TIME 2 PROPOSE AND PLANNED THIS INSANE PLAN INVOLVING ALL OF THE BREAD IN THE VILLAGE TO SHOW AARON JUST HOW MUCH HE LOVES HIM BC HE DOES

1.5 WAIT I HAVE TWO MORE HOLY SHIT THAT TIME!!!!!!!!! THEY LITERALLY!!!!!!!!!!!! BOTH PLANNED TO PROPOSE TO ONE ANOTHER????? AT THE SAME TIME????????? IN THE EXACT SAME WAY?????????????? WHO ARE THEY WHAT IS THIS???? DID THEY LITERALLY LIKE.... HAVE THIS CONVERSATION MID-BONE???? WHY WERE THEY BOTH THINKING ABOUT PROPOSING AT THE SAME TIME WITH THE SAME PLAN TO GO BACK TO WHERE THEY FIRST KISSED???? AND THEIR FAMILIES, WHEN THEY FOUND THIS OUT, WERE JUST LIKE ....oh lol AND THEN NEVER MENTIONED HOW FUCKING INSANE THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS THAT THIS IS WHAT THEY DID gdi who are they. OH AND THEN THEY ACCIDENTALLY??? ENDED UP AT THE LAY-BY ANYWAY????? BECAUSE ROBERT’S CAR ACTUALLY BROKE THE FUCK DOWN BC GOD CLEARLY SHIPS IT OR SOME SHIT AND THEN AARON WAS LIKE lol where are we never seen it before x EVEN THOUGH NOT 24 HOURS EARLIER HE WAS WAXING LYRICAL TO LIV OVER HOW ROMANTIC IT WOULD BE TO TAKE ROBERT TO THAT VERY SPOT AND FUCKIN ASK HIM TO MARRY HIM. AGAIN. BECAUSE THEY’RE ALREADY FUCKIN MARRIED?????? god they’re lunatics. OH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND THEN ROB WENT TO PROPOSE AND AARON LITERALL GOT ANNOYED BC HE WAS LIKE NO IT’S MY TURN BACK OFF SUGDEN AND THEN THEY SAID IT AT THE SAME FUCKIN TIME bc they’re literally just insane i can’t deal with them.

1. that time aaron made a speech about how robert jacob sugden, knowing every terrible thing he’s ever done and having been victim to his stupidity, manipulation, hunger for power and money and general terribleness, is still a good person who deserves love bc as much as aaron knows the bad that robert’s done, he also knows all of the good and just how far he’s come - and robert knows now, bc he’s done so much to try and be a better person for aaron and for their family and now he literally is actually sort of proud of the person he’s become and so much of that is aaron’s influence and like... aaron makes robert a better person by loving him as much as he does and robert in return loves aaron more than anything and they both recognise this love within each other and does it literally go beyond common sense? yes. are they basically a cautionary tale as to why maybe there is such a thing as too much love? u know they are. but are they perfect for each other? RIP YES THEY ARE THIS ISN’T GOING UNDER A CUT READ THIS ENTIRE POST AND SUFFER WITH ME GDI