#i know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it could fix me

[mashbrainrot]

.

[look-at-the-soul]

Watching over us

Tommy Shelby x reader

This story has been in my drafts for a while… I wrote it for @peakyswritings 2K celebration 🎉 congratulations dear Reb! You’re probably way over by now… I’m sorry for taking so long!

But like I always say, each story has its own time… initially it would focus in that infamous scene between Lizzie and Tommy in the open field, I never liked how she approached Tommy in such vulnerable state so I decided to “fix it” 🤭 but it was so so dark that I doubted and never posted it, to portray Tommy like that, gave me chills beyond words, luckily after dreaming of my grandma after she passed away, I decided to mix both ideas and make the story a little less sinister… or at least I hope so.

Like always, my deepest gratitude to @blondie-22 for the remarkable work around the moodboard, I mean look at this?! It’s perfect!!! 🙌🏻👏🏻

Summary: Ruby has been having some dreams that make her feel uneasy while Tommy is away. Because how would you feel after dreaming of someone who already passed away but it’s trying to send a message?

You paced the open room from side to side, toying with the necklace around your neck. Patiently waiting for your husband to arrive.

It was only matter of time.

The sky went dark a while ago and you really couldn’t put this on hold. His daughter had questions, she wanted answers, an explanation… something to believe in.

Frances had asked a few times if you needed something until you guided her to her headquarters, longing for some peace, for a moment alone to try to rearrange your own ideas.

A part of you felt calm, looking at the bright side, it wasn’t something you should feel worried about. Another part felt uneasy about how to approach the matter properly.

Eventually, the sound of Tommy’s car approaching filled your ear sight and you rushed towards your husband.

“Tommy.” You called breathlessly.

“What’s the matter?” He asked right away, aware of your state.

“I’m so glad you’re home now, come… we need to talk. About Ruby.”

His heart stopped beating for a split second, worry shadowed his crystal orbs.

“What happened?” He tensed thinking of the possibilities.

Taking the briefcase from his hand, you placed it on the table by the door, to move then to get his coat.

“What’s the matter?” He asked bluntly trying to control his voice.

But you pushed him slightly until he took a seat, not knowing how he’d take the news. He was particularly protective over Ruby specially after she miraculously overcame pneumonia.

“Take it easy, she’s waiting for you in our bedroom, I asked her to sleep and assured her you’d wake her up to talk…” taking a deep breath, you placed your hands on his shoulders for reassurance. “She’s been dreaming of Polly, she only started this week. A dream per night, it’s very vivid and she remembers everything afterwards. But she’s scared.”

“Ruby, Ruby, my little Rube.” He mumbled getting rid of his leather gloves. Standing up, he skipped a few steps on his way to the second floor, you following him closely.

The abrupt passing was taking a toll in the Shelby family. It wasn’t easy to move on, specially as grief came in waves.

You saw him stopping on his tracks at the sight of his daughter sleeping on his side of the bed, her hair scattered over the pillow, her soft features relaxed.

Gently, you pushed him towards the bed, so he could get closer.

Sitting by Ruby’s feet, Tommy doubted of disturbing her sleep, he contemplated the small and fragile figure, his precious daughter. Touching her hand gently, he brought it to his lips, to place a feather-like kiss.

“Daddy?” Her eyes fluttered open.

“Yes, I’m here my darling.”

Ruby launched herself into his arms, finding the comfort she needed in his chest and embrace.

“I saw aunt Polly.” She explained rubbing her eyes.

Tommy’s eyes searched for you at the opposite side of the bed. Then, he caressed her face, noticing she was still wearing the Black Madonna around her neck.

“What did you see?”

Ruby then went on to explaining him all about her first dream. That first night she dreamed of Polly, there was a knock on the door and Ruby went to open it, even though it was always Frances responsible to attend, but when she saw her beloved auntie, she didn’t hesitate to give her hug. To which Polly only answered with a smile and wrapping her arms around Tommy’s daughter. The following night, Ruby dreamed she was using the swing by the big tree and as she started moving higher, she looked over her shoulder and found Polly pushing her, when the girl asked how could she do that, her aunt only gave her a lighthearted laugh and kept pushing her until Ruby looked back again and she wasn’t there anymore.

The first verbal communication came by the third night though. When Ruby prayed before going to bed for her aunt, You told her it was the best she could do, pray for her soul, for her spirit to find peace. That night her dream started when she was sitting by the fireplace, feeling someone close, Ruby turned her head and found Polly standing by the doorframe.

“I’m praying for you.” The girl started the conversation.

“Thank you.” Polly replied with a nod, wrinkles appeared around the corner of her eyes when she smiled at her niece. “I heard you.”

“How?” Ruby asked in confusion.

“Have no fear my sweet girl, I’m always watching over you.”

When Ruby tried to get up to be closer to Polly, she was gone, and that’s when Ruby woke up.

Tommy gasped by the surprise the dreams his daughter was having.

“Polly.” He murmured.

“Am I going crazy daddy?” Ruby asked with concern.

You already assured her that wasn’t the case, she should feel calm and thankful that Polly had chosen her to let them know she was alright. But she needed to hear it from her father.

“No, of course not. Polly loved you very much.” He assured her.

“She said she loves you too and that she’s sorry for never telling you that.” Ruby treated Polly’s message for her father, which sent Tommy to let out a choked sob.

“She told you that?” He asked shocked but treasuring her words.

Ruby nodded and then proceeded to tell her father another dream, she was walking in a beautiful open field full of flowers and trees, she could hear the river close, the sky was clear, it was a gorgeous day. A beautiful butterfly caught her attention.

“She told me to ask you to be careful.” Ruby expressed solemnly. “Don’t believe everything. That you’re not going to die.” His daughter sighed and then continued. “She said read the papers.”

Tommy’s head snapped to find you staring at him already.

Time stood still for an instant. Blood flew off his body, he had kept a secret the illness detected by Doctor Holford from both his children. After he set Lizzie free and signed the divorce papers, Charlie went to live with her and Ruby, but a few weeks later, Ruby asked to see her father and occasionally stayed to sleep there, you had welcomed her with open arms. You had accidentally found the diagnosis and since then you had supported him without a second thought. Convinced to help him live his last days as better as possible.

That was part of the reason why he rushed the wedding and asked you to go to courthouse in the middle of the day, he was afraid to leave you unprotected.

“Were you going to die daddy?” Her concerned voice brought Tommy back to reality.

“Ruby, remember when you asked me if it was a bad thing that you dreamed of someone who is already gone?” You asked the girl instead, walking around the bed to stand behind Tommy.

When she nodded, you smiled briefly. Going back in time.

“Sometimes it’s a signal our loved ones give us to let us know they’re alright, or guide us somewhere.” You explained softly.

Tommy cleared his throat.

“Y/N is right.” Tommy explained. “That’s how I met Y/N.”

Flashback

Your heart froze, you had seen everything. A man desperate screaming into the nothing, bringing a gun into his temple.

But it failed… thankfully.

Or at least you didn’t hear the shooting, but you saw him collapsing into the mud. As you were about to run towards him, a tall, slim woman approached him. She mumbled something and then let a few bullets fall next to him.

You would never approve how Lizzie approached the matter. Tommy was in a vulnerable state after failing the Mosley assassination, he needed someone to be there for him right there to pick him off the ground. Not a resentful wife giving him the bullets. You shook your head disapprovingly at the thought.

*

“Tommy…” it was his mother’s voice. Was he already dead? He had to. “Tommy it’s not your time yet.”

Again there was her sweet voice, just like he remembered.

“My darling you need to get up. You still have things to do.” She insisted. She looked beautiful.

Just like the morning before she drowned in the canal, her hair blowing against her face, her crystal eyes just like his shining.

But he was tired. Oh so tired of everything already.

She pressed down a kiss to kiss his cheek.

“Wake up and you’ll find what you need.”

“Don’t go mother.” He whispered just as he felt someone hold up his head.

*

“Mister? Can you hear me?” A woman dressed in a white gown kneeled before him, gently placing his head on her lap, trying to remove the dirt from his eyes and nose.

And he knew right away, what his mother meant in his dream.

When he saw that selfless woman taking care of him considering the state he was in, both physically and mentally he knew you needed to be in his life. You didn’t hesitate to offer her help genuinely, didn’t care your clothes got dirty, instead you focused on his well-being.

(End of flashback)

“You know the rest of the story, Lizzie and I got divorced and after that, Y/N moved in with me, she’s been taking care of me.”

“You’ve never talked about your Mum.” Ruby pointed out. “I didn’t know you dreamed of her too.”

Tommy nodded, moving one of his hands to his shoulder, to cover yours. Touched by remembering the events. Of course he decided to not mention Ruby that her own mother dropped deliberately the bullets next to him before you helped him. She didn’t need to know that.

“The night before that happened,” you spoke looking at Ruby, “I went to sleep early, I felt so tired but past midnight I started to feel uneasy. And out of nowhere, I found myself walking in a wide open field covered by fog, I kept walking and when I reached the river, there was a woman who asked me for help desperately.”

Taking a deep breath, you continued with the story. “I didn’t recognize her at all, she just kept asking for my help, calling for someone whose name was Tommy. When I saw the fear in her eyes, I followed her, we kept walking for a while until I saw a shadow standing in the middle of the field.”

Ruby’s eyes observed you intensely.

“Help him please.” She pleaded again. “After that I woke up, it was probably five in the morning just like in my dream, luckily I knew the place so I grabbed a coat and went outside to see if it was real… something indescribable was pushing me to keep going, until I found your Dad.” You sighed loudly at the memory feeling Tommy squeeze your fingers.

“That day, Y/N saved my life.” Tommy added, if it wasn’t for Y/N, he would have taken the bullets after Lizzie left him there in a vulnerable state and to end with his own life.

He couldn’t help it but shudder at the memory.

“I didn’t know back then she was Polly and that she had just passed away.” Y/N continued trying to explain everything to Ruby according to her age. “But as I helped your father back into the house, and days went on and we were talking about what happened, I told your Dad about my dream and described the woman I saw, when he showed me a photograph of your aunt Polly, I was surprised and shocked to know it was her.”

“Aunt Polly helped you save my Dad?” Ruby asked incredulously.

Y/N gave Ruby a reassuring smile. She had so many reasons to believe and be thankful for dreaming with Polly when Tommy needed help, that she found a way to communicate through her dream. Otherwise she wouldn’t have met him.

Tommy nodded profusely, and now he was sure Polly found a way through Ruby to let them know she was alright among other things.

“Sometimes Ruby, our loved ones know we need them and when they visit us in our dreams it’s a good thing after all. I like to think they do it because it’s the way they have to show us they’re still around, they’ll always be.” You explained lovingly.

“I’m not scared anymore then, I know aunt Polly is still around.” Ruby declared solemnly.

Even it had been months since her passing away, Tommy sometimes still called her name after a meeting or looked up in the sky to find an answer.

He wasn’t sure how the afterlife worked, sometimes he thought it might be a result of his desperate need to find a solution. But listening to his daughter’s dreams… he had no other choice but to believe it might be real.

Tommy nodded, with a lump installed in his throat. “You can be sure, she will always be watching over us.”

Kissing his daughter goodnight, Tommy tucked her in and then he guided you outside the bedroom.

Rushing downstairs, Tommy went straight to his office to search for the papers. You following him but decided to give him some space, his eyes scanning the pages. One after one, cursing in between, you could see frustration taking a toll on him until he stopped abruptly.

Walking around the desk without asking him what was happening you took a look over his shoulder, following what caught his attention. And there it was, a photograph in the social section.

“Is that…?” Confusion crept over you.

“That bastard.” Tommy murmured.

His doctor was posing at the wedding of Diana and Oswald, the doctor posing next to them. All this fucking time… he creased the newspaper hard.

He was determined to end it right there, to get revenge after realizing of all the lies he had been telling him. But as he was about to walk out the door with a loaded gun in his hand, a soft but firm hand stopped him.

“Tommy.” You called him softly. “Take a minute to think this through… I know he deserves the worst punishment possible, he’s the worst. But you’re better than this.”

Your words seemed to soften his eyes for a moment, when he looked at you his whole expression changed.

“You told me you wanted to be different… better.” You tried again noticing the internal battle he was challenging. “You’re not like them.”

When Tommy’s anger subsided, you took the chance and retrieved the weapon from his hand placing it over his desk.

“Listen to me, take this easy.” You suggested, terrified of the look in his eyes. Since the day he pointed a gun to his temple you have never felt so uneasy and worried about him. “Tommy? This is what they want, a visceral reaction. They want you to explode and act impulsively.”

You felt him shaking under your touch.

“All of the lies he told me…” Tommy finally mumbled. “That fucking son of a bitch assured me these were my last days alive.”

He pursed his lips in an attempt to contain his anger. Not against you, but the situation.

“I know, my love.” You felt on the brick of tears. “But look at the bright side… we’ve a long road ahead.”

That’s when Tommy finally broke down. Hearing you say those words meant a lot to him.

He gave in and his weight pulled you down with him still in your arms, his choked sobs shattered your heart. He was like a young boy crying for his favorite toy.

“Tell me it’s true. Tell me Y/N.” He pleaded between sobs.

Since he met you, he told you how unfair it was after two failed marriages to finally find his true love but after his diagnosis he was angry at how little time he would have to love you.

And you felt the same.

You rocked him gently from side to side, feeling a wave of relief as your eyes fixed in the flames flickering in front of you.

“You aren’t sick Tommy, they lied to you to make you weak.”

News like that it wasn’t easy to digest, not especially after making peace with the idea of death. But finding out that he was healthy gave the two of you the chance to live what you’ve been missing all your life.

It gave you hope.

Although grandma doesn’t make an appearance here, she’s always the main inspiration, follow the Grandma series here

A dark story like this is never easy, so if you feel up to, I’d love to hear what you think! ✨♥️

Master list

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[greentrickster]

Starting a new thread for the Great God Airplane AU (on the usual grounds (ie the original thread was getting Long)), because I've got more to say about it, because I'm me.

Was thinking about how having access to his god!memories would potentially effect Shang Qinghua, and I'm a little surprised to find that I don't think it'd make much difference, at least in this AU. I think the main, most noticeable change would honestly be that he's a lot calmer afterwards. The surprising part is that this isn't because he's not afraid of getting hurt or because he's got OP god powers or anything now, but simply because of how long he's been doing all this.

Like, one of the key features of Airplane's lives seems to be that he's always kinda hanging on by his fingernails when it comes to surviving, keeping up, managing to get by. He's busy busy busy all the time, and as a result of this he's not really aware of how impressive any of the stuff he does really is, because he's never had the time to really sit back and internalize it.

But that's what he finally got when he arrived in this world as a newly divine being with a perfect memory of both everything he'd written and his original outline, and only the instructions 'create it the way you wanted it to be.'

And he did.

He spent years upon decades upon centuries slowly, carefully crafting his world from the ground up, putting as much or as little thought into every single piece as he wanted to, no rush, no deadline, no obligations to anyone or anything but himself. The ability to lose himself in the pleasure of creation, consequence-free, the time to step back and take in everything he's made so far. Anything he needs, anything he wants, he can have, he can make, from snacks to assistants to handle the details he doesn't want to do but which the world needs in order to function, and in order to hold the story he wants it to tell.

And with all that time and experience came the gradual, quiet gaining of confidence. Because he's been doing all this for such a long time that not only the ability but the knowledge of having that ability has sunk deep into his bones. The ability to look at a task and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's capable of doing it and more.

Shang Qinghua still flusters and laughs and complains and grumbles and thirsts (oh how he thirsts), but instead of a basis of fear that he'll be overwhelmed and crushed beneath the demand, it's on a basis of 'if push comes to shove, he's up to the job.'

It takes him a little bit to notice this change in himself and, once he does, I think he goes and cries a little bit. Because his human memories are the predominant ones at the moment, so it's a strange, shocky sort of relief to suddenly realize that "Oh. I really am good enough. I've always been good enough. I don't have to be afraid that I'm not anymore."

In contrast, I think the thing he has the most fun with is that now, if one of his martial siblings is being a pain about budgets or something, he can go, "You know what, maybe I should just go back to Heaven and let you deal with all this! I could be eating celestial melon seeds right now while writing wildly self-indulgent danmei between organizing my files, but instead I'm down here, dealing with the fact that you can't manage a simple monthly budget! Because, you know, one of these things sounds a whole lot more fun than the other-!!!"

And then his martial siblings get to go, "You know what, on second thought I was being unreasonable, maybe I should see if there's something else I could do to fix this problem instead of just trying to make you fix it..."

[n0cturn4]

Series In every universe - 9 . Tim Drake

Character: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: "Do you think we’ll find each other in other lives?" Word Count: 763 Land of Ancient Times.

Under the starry sky of a night that seemed endless, Tim found himself once again at the edge of the enchanted forest, where the moonlight softly illuminated a clearing covered with silver flowers. The knight, clad in his gleaming armor, carried in his heart the mystery of his quest, though his eyes sought her instinctively. He knew she was there, hidden among the shadows and mist, as she had always been.

And then, from the silence of the trees, she appeared. The mystical creature who belonged to the forest and time itself, her eyes gleaming like ancient sapphires, her steps light upon the ground. Her presence exuded a profound serenity, as if she were the very embodiment of the earth's magic.

"Here I am again, knight," she whispered, her voice as melodious as the song of a hidden stream.

Tim smiled upon seeing her, yet a melancholy, unintended, showed in his face. He approached with the care of one who fears breaking a precious spell, extending his hand, as if reaching to feel her ephemeral touch, once more.

"Tell me," he began, hesitant, his eyes fixed on hers, "do you think... we will find each other in other lives?"

She looked at him with a sweet sadness, as if that were the oldest secret guarded by the forest. Yet there was no doubt in her answer, only a promise that echoed beyond time.

"If it is up to my will," she replied softly, "I shall find you in every one of them."

And in that moment, with the soft breeze carrying her words through the air, Tim knew that their fate would never be undone.

Tim observed every detail of her as one who tries to engrave a secret deep within his memory. At each meeting, it was as if he tried to steal from time one more moment by her side, though he knew they inhabited different worlds. She belonged to the roots and the stars, as ethereal as the breath of an ancient legend; he was bound to the weight of mortal lands, the steel of his armor, and the duty of protecting a kingdom she would never see.

"Why do you look at me so, knight?" she asked in a melody that seemed to soothe his heart. There was a soft 7in every word she spoke, a tenderness that bound Tim in an invisible chain.

"Because I fear that each time I bid farewell to you, it may be the last," he confessed, feeling his chest tighten under the weight of his own mortality. "And though I wish to remember every trace of your face, I always fear that you... will fade, like a dream upon waking."

She then approached, a mystical gleam flickering in her eyes as she touched his face with gentle fingers, bringing an unexpected warmth. Tim closed his eyes at the feel of that touch; eternity seemed to fit into that simple gesture, and the world outside ceased to matter.

"Tell me, Tim," she whispered, so close that her breath blended with her murmur, "if your heart believes so faithfully, then what fear could there be? Are you not, indeed, the only one capable of finding me, even in the deepest darkness?"

The knight opened his eyes, meeting the depth in hers. There, he felt seen and understood in a way he had never known. As if she had known him before his very existence, as if their souls had crossed paths in past lives, somewhere beyond the veils that separated time and eternity.

"It is as though you have dwelled in each of my dreams, each sigh, long before I could even understand what longing was," he replied, his voice laden with emotion. "Nothing could keep me from following your trace, from finding you in every life that comes after this one."

She smiled, with a touch of sadness, as one who knows what he would never understand. On her face, the reflection of an ancient, immortal certainty.

"So it shall be, then," she said, resting her forehead against his in a silent gesture that spoke louder than words. "I will be waiting for you, Tim. In every era, in every sunrise, your spirit will find me, and I shall be the shadow beneath the tree, the wind among the flowers, the river's song at dusk."

With one last touch, she stepped back, slowly disappearing into the forest's dimness. And the knight remained there, knowing that at the end of all ages, in some other world or life, he would find her again — for so he desired, and that wish would travel through the centuries until they met once more.

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Chains of Destiny - The change (Ch.4)

Summary: I don't really know how to summarise this chapter, so please have this quote from this part: “You know you can tell me when I’m being a jerk, right? Call me out on it. I probably need it.”

Content warning: Angst, fluff, Logan actually has a heart in this one, supportive Logan.

Authors Note: So Logan isn't always going to be a jerk. He's actually a soft teady bear that secretly cares.

Tags: @danicl25 @mxrtiaxv @ayamenimthiriel @jinndesu

Eva's footsteps echoed faintly, a rhythmic tremor in the hollow quiet of the hallway. She stumbled forward, breaths shallow and broken, her heart hammering as if it might beat its way free. Each wall seemed to close in on her, the shadows pressing, darkening her vision until the way back to her room was little more than a blurred path. When she finally reached it, her fingers fumbled with the lock; her hands shook violently as if they carried the weight of all her failures. She pressed her back against the door, sliding down as though that fragile barrier alone could keep out the memories clawing at her mind—the pain, the gutting fear, the gnawing sense of unworthiness.

She sank to the floor, her vision splintering as she gasped for breath. Why am I here? The thought pierced her, sharp and unforgiving, stabbing straight to the heart of her doubt. What made me think I could change? She pressed her fists against her temples, willing the noise to stop, but it only grew, a relentless chorus of her insecurities. Each thought, each whispered doubt, pounded in rhythm with her pulse.

Then, in the quiet, she felt it—a presence just beyond the door. A soft knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts, followed by a voice, gentle yet clear. “Eva,” Charles Xavier called, his tone as calm as a hand on a storm-tossed sea. “May I come in?”

For a heartbeat, his words didn’t register, lost in her frantic haze. Her power stirred in response to her distress, and before she could contain it, a pulse of energy rippled outward, an unrefined surge that shoved Charles back. She recoiled, wide-eyed, her breath catching in horror. “No—no, don’t!” she stammered, backing away, her body tight with the dread of her own strength, as though it were something separate, wild and uncontrollable.

Charles steadied himself, his expression unshaken, radiating a patient understanding. He wheeled closer, undeterred, his gaze as steady as his voice. “Eva,” he said softly, “I felt your struggle. You don’t have to be alone in this.”

Her face twisted in a rush of anger and despair, her voice breaking as she spoke. “You all think you can help,” she choked out, the words brittle and jagged. “That you can just fix me, make me into some sort of—of project.” Her voice caught, and she bit down hard to keep from crying, her shoulders tight with the weight of it. “I never should have left that place. At least there, no one pretended to care.”

A shadow of sadness crossed Charles’s face, the fine lines around his eyes softening as he listened to her words, absorbing the pain in each syllable. “Eva,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “you’re here because you have a future far beyond what they led you to believe. But you have to give yourself time. One session doesn’t define who you are.”

She pressed a hand to her mouth, willing back the flood of memories rising like dark water, images of faces, flashes of voices, all drowned in her shame. “You don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice barely a tremor. “Every time I use my powers, I see them—all those people I hurt, the ones I couldn’t save. I hate it. I hate this feeling. I hate... who I am.”

From down the hall, Logan felt the force of Eva’s anguish like a heatwave, the sharp ache in her aura guiding him toward her. He didn’t need to hear her words to feel the depth of her despair, but her voice reached him just as he arrived, filling him with a pang that ran deeper than anger. He lingered at the doorway, silent, his rough exterior softened by the sight of her pain.

Logan stood in the doorway, watching her from a distance. The raw vulnerability in Eva’s voice—the way she bared her fears and self-loathing—hit him in a place he thought he'd locked away long ago. She was terrified; he could feel it in the air, thick and suffocating, as though her pain radiated from her in waves. It stirred something deep within him, a flicker of recognition, as if he were staring into a mirror of his own past.

Her voice grew softer, but the desperation in her words cut straight through him. “I don’t want to be a weapon. I don’t want to be someone’s victim, either. But I don’t know how to do what Logan expects of me.” She looked up at Charles, her eyes wet with unshed tears, shimmering with the weight of her doubt. “I feel his anger, like a force I can’t escape. Every time he’s near, it’s like he resents me. And I don’t even blame him. I don’t want to be the reason anyone else suffers—just by being around me.”

Before Charles could respond, Logan stepped forward, his presence filling the space. Eva’s head snapped up, her expression raw, startled. She looked at him as if he were another threat, yet her gaze held a faint glimmer of hope. Charles glanced between them, offering Logan a knowing nod before stepping aside.

“Mind if we talk alone?” Logan asked, his voice softened by an unfamiliar gentleness. Charles gave Eva one last encouraging look before quietly leaving the room.

Once the door closed, Logan took a step forward, but when he saw her flinch, he paused, letting the weight of her fear settle around him. Slowly, he lowered himself to sit on the floor beside her, careful to give her space, his posture relaxed, open.

“Look,” he started, his voice low, gravelly, though touched by an edge of kindness. “I know I’ve been… well, a bit of a jerk, to say the least. And I’m not about to make excuses for it. But there’s something I need you to understand, Eva—I’m not mad at you. Not in the way you think.”

Her gaze remained on the floor, her hands twisted tightly in her lap. “Then why do you look at me like that? Why does it feel like… I’m just a burden?”

Logan exhaled, raking a hand through his hair as he searched for words that wouldn’t come out rough. “Because, kid… you remind me of a part of myself I’d rather forget,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “The anger, the pain, the way you push people away to keep them safe—that used to be me.”

She glanced up, surprise mingling with the doubt in her eyes.

“When I first got here, I didn’t know who the hell I was supposed to be,” he went on. “I knew how to fight and survive, but not how to live. And controlling my own powers?” He chuckled softly, a dry, self-deprecating sound. “Let’s just say, I thought Charles was out of his mind for letting me through the door. But he showed me that maybe, just maybe, I could be something more.”

A tentative look softened her features, curiosity mixing with lingering disbelief. “But you know who you are now. You’re strong. You’re… not broken like me.”

Logan shook his head slowly, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Kid, I don’t think you get how broken I really am,” he replied, his voice rough but honest. “I may have figured some things out, sure, but I still screw up. You saw that today.” He hesitated, glancing at her fragile posture, the hurt still visible in her guarded expression. “And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were back with the people who locked you up. That was never my intention.”

She drew in a shuddering breath, her hands twisting in her lap. “I don’t know if I can do this, Logan. Every time I try to control it, it’s like… like I’m slipping. Like I’m losing control. And that terrifies me.”

Logan nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his gaze. “I get that,” he said, his voice calm. “But you don’t have to figure it all out at once. And you don’t have to do it alone.” He met her eyes, a hint of a smile breaking through his usual sternness. “You know you can tell me when I’m being a jerk, right? Call me out on it. I probably need it.”

A small, unexpected laugh slipped out of her, soft and hesitant, but there. Logan caught it, his own smile growing as he watched a touch of light break through the darkness clouding her face. For the first time, she looked at him without the fear that had shadowed her eyes.

“I’ll try,” she whispered, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips.

Logan leaned back, nodding with satisfaction. “Good. That’s all I’m asking. And if it’s any consolation, I don’t have all the answers either. But I’m here, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.” His voice softened, a rare vulnerability slipping through. “I hate seeing you afraid of me. That’s the last thing I ever wanted.”

Eva looked at him, relief softening her expression, a weight seeming to lift from her shoulders. For the first time, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to face her fears alone.

Logan settled back, easing into the silence that hung between them, content just to sit there beside her. And in that quiet, something unspoken passed between them—a silent promise, a shared understanding forged in the dark, where two broken souls might finally begin to find their way back to the light.

***

Logan walked beside Eva as they made their way back to the training grounds. His usual brisk stride was tempered, his expression calm yet intent. The frustration that had rattled him earlier was replaced by a steadfast determination to make things right. The room ahead felt different now, bathed in a softer light that seemed to lift the weight of tension hanging between them. He glanced at her, hoping to ease the tightness in her shoulders.

“Alright, kid,” he said, striving for a steady, even tone. “I think we got off on the wrong foot here. Let’s start over.”

Eva looked up at him, uncertainty flickering in her eyes, but she was listening.

“Let’s go back to basics,” Logan continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need to understand what you can do and how it feels when you try. No pushing yourself too hard—just give me what you’ve got, and we’ll work from there.”

Taking a breath, Eva wrestled with the tangled mess of her powers and the haunting memories of her training in captivity. “I… don’t know if I can do everything they wanted me to. They kept pushing me, pushing until I broke, just to see how far I’d go.”

Logan listened intently, his brow furrowing in concern. He didn’t press her; instead, he nodded, shifting his posture slightly to invite her to continue.

“They taught me to heal, mostly,” she said, her voice tremulous. “That’s what they cared about. If someone’s hurt or sick, I can… take it into myself. It’s like swapping their pain for mine.” She hesitated, the weight of her past hanging in the air. “And if I touch someone, I can feel their emotions and thoughts, like waves crashing over me. Sometimes it’s just too much.”

Logan’s expression was hard to read, but his gaze softened with understanding. “What about when you try to protect yourself? That… force repulsion thing, right?”

She shook her head, anxiety shadowing her features. “That one… it’s tricky. I couldn’t do it back there,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with embarrassment. “I try to focus, but then I get lost in… memories. I see the faces of people I’ve hurt. They taught me to use it to fight, but that’s all I know. When it really matters—” She trailed off, shame flooding her. “I’m afraid of it. Afraid I’ll lose control or that it won’t work, and someone will get hurt. Someone here.”

Logan absorbed her words in silence, realizing for the first time that her powers were not mere tools—they were landmines of pain and memory buried deep within her mind. “You’re doing more than you know just by admitting that,” he said, his voice resolute. “They wanted a weapon, not a person who understands her own limits. That’s why it’s so damn hard for you to use your powers on your own terms.”

She nodded, a hint of relief breaking through her anxiety. “It’s just… hard when I don’t know what I’m supposed to be capable of without feeling like I’m back there.”

Logan rubbed his face, recalling Hank’s words from earlier. “Look, the way I see it, we’re not here to make you into what they wanted. We’re here to help you find a way to control this for you. So for now, let’s focus on things that don’t pull you back into that place, alright?”

Eva met his gaze, a blend of doubt and hope dancing in her eyes. “Okay… I can try.”

“Good. Let’s start with the basics of your healing,” he suggested. “We’ll build up slowly. I’ll help you as best I can, even if I don’t have all the answers.” He shifted his weight, glancing over at her. “I’m not perfect, kid, but I won’t quit on you.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips, and Logan felt something ease inside himself, too. They still had a long way to go, but the flicker of trust growing between them felt significant. Maybe—just maybe—that bond would be enough to help her regain a sense of control, one step at a time.

They stood in the quiet of the training room, the usual intensity dialed down to something softer and more deliberate. Logan observed Eva, noting her quiet tension and the way she braced herself as if anticipating pain.

“Alright,” he said, his voice steady. “Let’s start with the healing. But this time, we’re doing it differently. No pushing, no forcing yourself past what you’re ready for. First rule: if it’s too much, you say no. Got it?”

Eva looked at him, surprise flickering in her eyes before she nodded hesitantly. “But… if someone’s really hurt, shouldn’t I try?”

Logan held up a hand to stop her. “You should do what’s right for you first. You’ve been asked to give too much of yourself for too long, and that has to change.” He softened his tone, almost awkwardly, not accustomed to offering this kind of patience. “If healing someone is going to tear you apart, you have the right to say no. It doesn’t make you weak; it makes you human.”

She absorbed this slowly, trying to let it settle. No one had ever framed her power in terms of her own boundaries. It had always been about whether she could do it or if she had failed. This was the first time she was hearing there was a middle ground.

Logan nodded as she processed his words. “Good. Now, let’s get a sense of what feels manageable for you. Start small. You don’t have to do much—just focus on what you can do without hurting yourself.”

He extended his arm, exposing a fresh gash across his forearm, inflicted during training. Usually, he’d let his body heal on its own, quick to recover even from serious injuries. But today, he let his healing stop, inviting her to take over.

“Alright,” he murmured, nodding for Eva to begin. “But remember, you don’t push yourself for anyone. Not even me.”

Eva nodded, though uncertainty lingered in her gaze. Her hands trembled as they reached toward him. Slowly, she laid her fingers over the wound, her skin barely brushing his. She focused on finding her center as he’d instructed. The familiar surge of her power ignited beneath her skin—warm and comforting—but this time she held it steady, allowing the energy to flow through her hands and into him rather than rushing forward. A faint glow enveloped her hands, and Logan could feel the tingling warmth threading into the wound, mending tissue bit by bit. It was delicate and almost hesitant, but with each passing second, the pain subsided in measured waves, leaving a strange calm behind.

“That’s it,” Logan encouraged, his voice a low rumble. “Take your time.”

Her breaths grew deeper and steadier as her focus sharpened. For the first time, she felt a quiet control over her power, a sense of healing without the usual overwhelming drain on her own life force. She met his gaze for a fleeting second, surprise lighting up her eyes. In that moment, he saw the faintest glimmer of pride—a glimmer he’d never witnessed before.

“That’s good,” he said softly, even as the gash slowly sealed under her touch. “Keep it right there.”

When the healing was complete, Eva lifted her hands, her gaze lingering on the closed wound as if she could hardly believe it was real. She swayed slightly, not from pain or strain, but from a quiet sense of awe. Looking up at Logan, her eyes widened with wonder as she realized she’d done it. She looked at her arm, sure, she felt the wound on it while she healed him, but it was already healing on itself. Apparently, the smaller the wound the quicker she was healing as well. That was new and fascinating. 

“See?” he said, a rare warmth edging his words. “You’re stronger than you think. You just have to believe in that strength and protect it.”

Eva held his gaze, feeling something shift deep within her—a sense of validation she hadn’t felt in years. She took a step back, her hand still warm, that warmth grounding her in a way she didn’t fully understand but appreciated deeply.

When Logan spoke again, his voice was steady and sincere. “Now, I want you to remember what that felt like. You don’t have to bleed yourself dry to help others. Your strength isn’t just in the healing itself; it’s in knowing your limits. You deserve that control.”

Eva let those words settle within her, surprised at how they reshaped her understanding of her power. It wasn’t about sacrifice—it was about balance.

They practiced like this for a while, keeping everything gentle and within her control. The experience was new and oddly grounding; she realized that healing didn’t have to mean self-sacrifice. It was the first time she felt some agency over her powers. Logan noticed the change in her posture, the way she began to stand a little taller, and he knew they were on the right track.

After a while, Logan gave her a small nod, contemplating their next steps. “I also want to talk about that other power of yours—the touch thing. You mentioned you can feel people’s emotions?”

Eva nodded shyly. “Yes, but… it’s not always easy to control. It’s like I open up too much, and then I can’t close myself off again. Sometimes it feels like it’s swallowing me.”

Logan’s gaze softened, the usual gruffness giving way to something almost gentle. “Alright. This isn’t about powering through. It’s about getting to know yourself first and finding what grounds you so you don’t get swept up in everyone else’s feelings.” He gave her a small nod. “Hank’s been in my ear about this. He says you have to know what calms you down. So, before we train anything, let’s focus on that.”

Eva looked surprised, unaccustomed to having her own needs prioritized. “I… I’m not sure. I’ve never really thought about what calms me.”

Logan offered a reassuring nod. “That’s alright. Start simple—tell me about what you like. What have you enjoyed doing since you got here? Ororo mentioned you’ve been working on your reading. Any chance you’d read something for me?”

Eva looked up, startled, color rising in her cheeks. “I... I only have a few books in my room,” she replied, almost apologetically. “Children’s books mostly. I’m still… learning.”

Logan’s face softened, sensing her embarrassment. “Good,” he said, a faint, genuine smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. “Haven’t read a kid’s book in years. I think it’s about time I catch up.”

Hesitating, Eva studied him to see if he was serious. His expression was patient, without a hint of mockery. She nodded, a small smile escaping as she turned to leave the training room, hurrying to her quarters. A few moments later, she returned, clutching a slim, brightly illustrated book.

She glanced down at the cover, brushing her thumb across it as if smoothing out her nerves. “This one’s called The Giving Tree. It’s… simple.”

Logan nodded, undeterred. “Simple’s fine. Let’s hear it.”

She opened the book carefully, her fingers steadying against the pages, and began to read. Her voice was quiet at first, tentative, but the words soon flowed as she warmed to the rhythm of the story. Logan listened intently, his expression softening, a rare gentleness in his gaze as she read each line with careful, almost reverent attention.

Somewhere in the middle of her reading, Logan found himself drawn in—not just by the story itself, but by her unguarded effort. She had spent so much time locked away in fear and uncertainty. But now, with every sentence, he glimpsed someone discovering something simple and beautiful within herself, even if it was through the words of a children’s book.

As she finished the final page, Eva glanced up, searching his face for any trace of amusement or impatience. But what she found was Logan’s soft smile, a quiet awe in his expression.

“Thanks for that,” he said. “That book… it was worth the read.”

Eva blinked in surprise, smiling back. The moment felt like a small, unexpected gift. For Logan, seeing her like that—shy, sincere, open, and human—was worth more than he could have anticipated.

[pinkeoni]

Figuring Out Lonnie’s Whole Deal

(Or, assembling a timeline of pre-show events inspired by a culmination of theories centering around one Lonnie Byers)

After spending much time deliberating and theorizing, I’ve come to what I believe is a solid timeline of events relating to Lonnie Byers grounded in evidence from the show.

Now I don’t have all of the pieces, but also if I had all of the pieces then I wouldn’t need to be theorizing in the first place. Still, I’m fairly confident in my assessment. Maybe it would be wise of me to wait for The First Shadow to come out to give me more information, but for all intents and purposes of this I will only be looking at evidence within the text of the show. So no cast or crew comments, no supplemental materials, and as much as I love it, no speculation regarding TFS. Still, I think the show has enough evidence to support my assertion.

Things to establish:

A lot of what I’m about to talk about comes from a basis of these three things—

1. Will and El’s storylines mirror each other, which I charted out here. Their stories share a lot of differences, and a lot of similarities.

2. Powers are being used in this show to explore themes of sexuality through a sci-fi/supernatural lens. I talk about this in length here, but tl;dr El’s powers are used to explore the exploitation and reclamation of female sexuality, and Will’s powers are being used to show the demonization and repression of homosexuality.

3. Oh yeah, and Will has powers, by the way.

Surface Level Information We Are Given About Lonnie Byers:

It might be best to have a refresher of what we know about Lonnie Byers. Most of this comes from season one and all of it is displayed directly to the audience—

Lonnie is the absentee father of Jonathan and Will and ex-husband of Joyce

He left his family at an unspecified date that led Jonathan and Will to build Castle Byers the night of

He currently lives in Indianapolis

He used to call Will homophobic slurs

Joyce once argued with him about not showing up to a visitation with Will

Jonathan and Joyce do not speak of him fondly. Will’s feelings are unclear but seem positive “It’s fun to go with him sometimes”

Expressed interest in wanting to see Jonathan more

Referred to Joyce as “babe” despite being apart and having another girlfriend

Did not take Joyce’s calls to his house

Doubted Joyce, took down her Christmas lights and tried to repair the hole in the wall

Has unspecified debts

Likes to fix cars

Doesn’t like cops

Tried to use his “dead” son for lawsuit money

Was kicked out by Joyce and hasn’t been seen on screen since

Things to glean from just below the surface:

The following are things that are not stated directly, but can be easily inferred from clues given in show—

Lonnie is likely an alcoholic, shown through an abundance of beer bottles littering his house. Even if he splits it between him and his tiny girlfriend, it’s still an absurd amount of beer for two people. It’s possible he may have other addictions as well.

Lonnie was likely physically abusive towards Jonathan given his “You’ve gotten stronger” comment in the house. It’s possible that the extent of his abuse could stretch far beyond that for both Jon and Will.

Will likely used to hide from his dad. Jonathan and Will built Castle Byers the night he left, which Jonathan remarks that Will likes to hide in. Not to mention the “he’s good at hiding” comment.

The rest of this post is going to be much more speculative, but it’s all speculation that is grounded in what we see on and just below the surface.

Theory #1) Lonnie was involved with MK-ULTRA

This was an idea that I tossed around a while ago, that after spending time with and finding new evidence I’ve now grown more confident in.

Most of this confidence comes from this conversation between Becky and Jopper. Becky tells Hop that him and Terry would have gotten along, as Terry didn’t like authority or the government— “The Man , with a big capital M.” (which is ironic given Hopper is a cop)

When discussing who was involved with MK-ULTRA, Becky mentions “people like [Terry]”

So people like Terry, who maybe don’t like authority as was just mentioned?

It seems as though the Byers have always been down on their luck in terms of finance. Would it be hard to believe that, especially given the close proximity of the lab to the Byers house and Lonnie's willingness to get money in the show, Lonnie might have partaken in a paid study in the past? ("You were in it for the money!")

Above I mentioned the implication that Lonnie is an alcoholic. If he was involved with a study involving hard drugs, could he have developed addiction problems through the program? Furthermore, wouldn't it also make sense for Lonnie to gain a mistrust of authority after being taken advantage of by the government?

In my initial post about it I discuss how this could be foreshadowed through Hopper’s past as well. Hopper was involved with something government related that required chemicals, something that ended up affecting his child.

Theory #2) Lonnie was working with the lab during season one

Another part of proving Lonnie’s MK-ULTRA involvement is his connection with the lab. Everything that I’m about to list could align perfectly with Lonnie simply just being a shitty ex and father, but everything that I’m about to list could also align perfectly with the idea that Lonnie was working with the lab against Joyce the entire season.

1) Lonnie’s fishiness with Joyce’s phone call

I’ve already made an entire post about this here but I’ll recap all of the important bits.

Right before we see Joyce call Lonnie in the first episode, we are shown the lab spying on her conversation explicitly. Joyce is then sent to voicemail, which given the ordering of scenes makes me wonder if the lab purposefully intercepted her call.

Joyce also never actually talks to Lonnie on the phone. Cynthia picks up until their call is disconnected, which could have been Cynthia but also could have been the lab interfering again.

When Jonathan confronts Lonnie about not returning Joyce’s call, he kind of shrugs off his answer.

Why the hesitancy at first, Lonnie?

Lonnie tells Jonathan that he’s talked to police, which is likely, but then adds a comment that makes me question if he talked to any Hawkins cops at all.

Why do you need to ask if Hopper is chief, if Hawkins police came to question you, Lonnie?

2) The timing of Lonnie showing up in Hawkins

Even after being told this his own son is missing, Lonnie does not show up in town until after—

Will’s “body” is found in the quarry

Joyce refuses to sign off on the fake body

Joyce actually speaks to and is able to see Will through the hole in the wall

The next time we see Joyce is when Lonnie pulls up that night at the Byers house. Here is what Lonnie does while he’s there:

Tells Joyce that Will is in her head

Tell Jonathan not to feed into Joyce’s “delusions”

Takes down the Xmas lights that Joyce was using to talk to Will

Covers the hole in the wall that Joyce saw Will through

Unsuccessfully tries to convince Joyce to use Will’s "death" for money

All of these actions align perfectly with Lonnie’s character, do you also see how it also aligns perfectly with Lonnie trying to purposefully cover up the truth?

We don’t see Joyce call Lonnie to come over and I highly doubt that Jonathan asked him to come. Granted, Lonnie was most likely notified by police of Will’s death, why not come right away? Why wait until after Joyce refuses to believe that it’s Will’s body and after she actually sees Will alive in her walls?

Remember that the lab had likely bugged her house as well, given the scene where Hop finds a bug in his cabin.

Think about the timing of when the lab decided to place Will’s body in the quarry and have it found, something that we know for a fact was their doing. This comes after Joyce had discovered the ability to talk to Will through the lights and right after the writing on the wall scene, when Joyce was coming closer to the truth.

If a lab personnel showed up at the Byers, took down the lights and hammered over the wall, that would obviously draw a lot of suspicion towards them. But if the lab could get someone on the inside to do it, perhaps an ex-spouse that can be easily manipulated with cash and already had connections to them, that wouldn’t raise an eyebrow.

That’s also where the lawsuit comes in. If the lab is paying off Lonnie and his family, they can’t just give them the a ton of cash directly, it would likely have to go through a third party under the guise of something else, like a legal suit. I’m willing to bet all my money that the suit Lonnie wanted to file on the Sattlers was just another cover from the lab.

Theory #3) Lonnie was trying to hand Will over to the lab

Another note about Terry, if Will and El are mirrors then Lonnie and Terry may possibly be mirrors, too. If Terry was desperate to get El out of the lab then maybe Lonnie was desperate to get Will into the lab. Also the difference between Terry's daughter being taken from her/Lonnie voluntarily leaving his own son.

Something we know about Lonnie Byers— he was homophobic towards Will and did not want to visit him after he had left.

Something else we know about Lonnie Byers— he likes to fix cars.

We have confirmation that Lonnie was trying to “fix” Will, at least in a less aggressive manner, by taking him to baseball games. Jonathan says explicitly, “He’s trying to force you to like normal things.” This line is so incredibly loaded, what Jonathan is saying below the surface is "He's trying to force you to like girls."

The above scene is in the same episode where Jonathan goes to Lonnie’s Indianapolis house, and we get a line from Lonnie about him fixing up a car.

Yes, Will is being compared to a car. Lonnie wants to fix him.

And remember, Will has powers, and powers are being used as a way to explore sexuality.

So given Lonnie’s connection with the lab from MK-ULTRA as expressed before, along with Lonnie’s hatred of Will and homophobia, along along with powers as a metaphor for Will's queerness, it leads me to believe that Lonnie was trying to cure Will of his powers through the lab. This would essentially be the supernatural version of gay conversion therapy.

I want to talk about the word “mistake”

This word is so potent and really sticks out because we haven’t really seen it used in this way on the show before. The writers could have had Will say “monster” to relate to El's arc, or they could have had him say “freak” which would not only relate to Eddie but is something that Will has called himself in the past. But instead they decide to give him a new word that is different from the labels other characters give themselves.

The word mistake is unique to Will.

What do you do with mistakes? You fix them.

I have a lot of fun with Will-being-a-lab-kid theories, and nothing but absolute love to those who make them, but after doing a lot of my own thinking I’ve since come to the conclusion that Will didn’t grow up in the lab at all, but Lonnie was making an unsuccessful effort to ship Will to the lab. Part of El and Will’s narrative mirroring is Will coming from a normal background while El does not.

Which isn’t to say that the lab didn’t want Will, I think they very much did. I’ve seen the take that Lonnie tried to hand Will to the lab but he didn’t display powers at the time so they wouldn’t take him. But do you really think that that would stop them from wanting him anyway, especially if the boys father was giving him to them willingly? Do you really think that Martin “you wouldn’t stop” Brenner was gonna turn down another child? That someone was willing to give to him?

So then, if Lonnie was willing to give Will to the lab and the lab was willing to take him, what was stopping them?

For starters, I’m guessing that the process involved in receiving a new test subject, especially one that wasn’t born into the lab, would take patience. They can’t just nab Will off the street. They would probably have to surveil things for a while, gain intel from Lonnie, and come up with a strategy.

A strategy that may involve falsifying an accident, a fake body, and the funneling of money via fake lawsuit?

I’m not saying that the lab was the ones behind Will’s disappearance, at least initially. I think the mothergate opening was completely unpredictable from their end and instead necessitated the plan to be accelerated due to sudden unforeseen circumstances, as well as taking advantage of Will’s presence in the Upside Down to try and take him for themselves.

So why wait until now? If they had an airtight plan, why not act sooner?

Could there have been an incident, perhaps, with the lab, which happened prior to Will’s disappearance, that may have delayed this process?

I’m willing to bet that a mass death event of majority of the test subjects and personnel from the place that Lonnie was trying to send Will to, might be enough to put the brakes on this operation, if not on delay for a few years so they can regroup.

While we’re here, I wanna talk about Will’s similarities to Henry Creel

The comparisons between Henry and Will aren’t something hidden under the layers for only die hard theorists to find, this is something that everyone and their mothers were discussing on twitter. The similarities were noticeable even from casual viewing.

Image via Reddit

We know from his monologue that Henry’s mother knew he had powers and wanted to send him away to a doctor, a doctor that we later learn was actual Papa Brenner.

If Will and Henry are similar, is it possible that their parents wanted similar things? The main difference being that Will actually did evade Dr. Brenner.

Furthermore, is it possible that Will has powers similar to One’s and that the lab could have been knowledgeable of this? If that is the case, it may stand to reason that they might be hesitant to bring in someone with similar abilities to the guy who just killed a bunch of people.

I used to think that Will and Henry had to have completely different sets of powers, and while I do think that Will may have abilities unique to himself, given how they are compared I do think that Will may have similar powers to him. In fact, we may have already seen Will display a traveling into the mind ability in season one.

Theory #3.5) Lonnie’s departure correlates with the Hawkins Lab massacre

If Lonnie was desperate to get rid of the son he hates, and then was told that there was an unexpected delay, it would make sense for him to give up and leave town.

There’s been comments from cast and crew in the past regarding when exactly Lonnie left, but it’s never been confirmed in show.

Evidence for why I think it coincides with the massacre actually comes from the shed scene.

Joyce first mentions Will’s eighth birthday, which would have been in March of 1979. The massacre was in September of 1979.

Mentioning his eighth birthday specifically places emphasis on that age. Jonathan then follows Joyce by talking about the night dad left.

We don’t get an exact timeframe or age, but the fact that this follows the story if Will’s eighth birthday does create a correlation with that age. We then switch timeframes when Mike brings up kindergarten.

Think about it, if their dad had left when Will was eight, bringing up his age again would be redundant because Joyce just mentioned it. Mike mentions kindergarten to let us know that this is a different time and age that we’re talking about.

Let’s talk about Lonnie’s debts

What exactly these debts are that Joyce brings up is never specified. And it could be anything. Maybe a loan he took out, drug or gambling debts, since nothing is stated it’s all possible. But here’s my take:

Will is Lonnie’s debt. That’s what he owes.

Remember that the exact way that Lonnie was going to pay back these debts was with Will. He is linked with this debt conversation.

It is Joyce who brings up the debt, but since she doesn’t specify there’s a reasonable doubt that she herself doesn’t know the specifics. She could know that Lonnie is indebted to someone but not know what/could have been lied to.

I’m imagining the lab giving Lonnie some kind of advanced payment for Will, with the promise that they’ll eventually have him. It would be a way for the lab to control Lonnie. He now owes them, and the lab expects to collect their debts. Despite the lab and Lonnie having similar goals, there is definitely a power imbalance.

Lonnie does want a family, just not one with Will in it

More thorough post here, but in season one we get indications in Lonnie's dialogue that he does want to be around his family, like expressing interest in seeing Jonathan more and calling Joyce "babe," which seems to contradict him living in another town, or hell even leaving his family at all.

When Joyce gets mad with Lonnie over the phone about not coming to visit, it was specifically a Will visitation day. It's seeming more and more that Lonnie's departure is centered on Will. (Which doesn't take away from any of the potential abuse he hurled at Jonathan or Joyce. He doesn't care about their interests, only his. Furthermore, I'm not placing blame onto Will for Lonnie's absence. That is all Lonnie's doing)

Am I saying that Lonnie has powers?

Well, maybe.

That is something that I’ve been wondering if Lonnie had powers, which granted is something that relied heavily on speculation regarding TFS which I said I wanted to stay away from for this post. Since I don’t have all the pieces yet, I want to consider as many options as possible.

Option A) Lonnie was born with powers, and MK-ULTRA was simply how he became acquainted with the lab/his powers were repressed and MK-ULTRA activated them

Option B) Lonnie received powers from MK-ULTRA and passed it on to Will

Option C) Lonnie was not born with powers nor received powers from MK-ULTRA but it did give him super-powered sperm

May I remind you of Lonnie's comparison to Terry from earlier in the post, and the fact that Terry herself does have powers.

I oftentimes see the theory that Joyce herself has powers, and I myself even theorized that her Aunt Darlene may have had powers. However I'm more inclined to believe that Joyce is a carrier of this gene rather than having powers herself. Most of the evidence used to suggest that she has powers comes from Joyce reacting to what Will is showing her. There's also no indication that Jonathan has any powers.

If Lonnie participated in MK-ULTRA after Jonathan was born, then it could explain why Will would have powers and not Jonathan. Moreover, having both a mother who is a carrier and a father with powers/nuked balls would likely have a higher chance of having a powered child. (That's how genetics work, right? Please forgive me if my science is wrong.)

Notes on Lonnie's character

You'll note that there are multiple times in this post where I acknowledge that I lot of Lonnie's actions are explainable because of his identity as a shitty guy, and maybe that's all this is. However, I want to explain why having this type of character is actually perfect for a reveal like this.

In order to pull off a successful reveal, you have to hide the truth while also giving enough information so it doesn't come out of nowhere. Lonnie's personality allows for the truth to be hidden in plain sight.

Let's say that Lonnie was actually an upstanding man. Jonathan and Joyce both had fond memories of him, but he left in the past for some unknown reason. Lonnie was always a great husband, but for some reason he's doubting Joyce and taking down her Christmas lights even when she asks him not to.

Do you see how that would create a huge plot hole? How season one would feel incomplete? How it would create a giant unanswered question that needs answering?

Why didn't Joyce know about any of this?

Unfortunately we are told pretty explicitly in season one as to why something like this could have been happening under Joyce's nose. We are told in the first episode that Joyce works long hours, leaving early in the morning and not coming home until later in the night. Jonathan is expected to get Will up, make breakfast, and take him to school. My guess is that Lonnie may have been in charge of such tasks when he was still home.

If Lonnie was, say, taking Will to the lab for some preliminary tests or meetings, he could have easily done this while Joyce was at work or while Jonathan was in school.

We even hear from Joyce herself that she hasn't been keeping up with Jonathan, she isn't in the know how with her sons. (This is not me calling Joyce a bad mother btw, this is definitely a symptom of capitalism rather than bad parenting.)

Why doesn't Will say anything?

If Will was being taken to the lab for appointments in the past, wouldn't he say something about it? Especially to El, who grew up in the lab?

Well, there's a chance that Will doesn't remember this.

Longer post here, but we are given a scene in season four where Will expresses not remembering something from his childhood very well.

Which I could write off as Will being too little to remember this small detail, but this is also coming from the same season where we just got an entire plot line about memories from El's past being erased. (El who, as I stated in the beginning, has a storyline that mirrors Will's)

The Final Timeline

Tl;dr, or, the timeline written out chronologically:

Lonnie marries Joyce and has Jonathan. Jonathan is born without powers

Lonnie becomes involved with MK-ULTRA sometime prior to Will's birth as a way to make money

Joyce and Lonnie have Will, who was born with powers

When Will is very young Lonnie knows that he has powers

Lonnie begins taking Will to the lab in hopes of curing him

Lonnie and the lab strike a deal that involve taking Will in exchange for money

There is a plan to take Will involving a fake accident. Lonnie will file a fake lawsuit in order to exchange the money and avoid suspicion

The Hawkins Lab massacre happens and the plan is delayed

Lonnie leaves

Mothergate is opened by El and Will is taken

Upon realizing that Will is in the Upside Down, the plan moves forward with Lonnie in on it

Things don't go as expected and Joyce is on to Will being alive, so the lab asks Lonnie to come home in order to help with coverup

Joyce is infuriated about the lawsuit and kicks Lonnie out

The rest of the season follows as we see on screen and the labs plan unravels, some of the personnel is killed by El and the demogorgon in the school

[childotkw]

Um, not sure if you've been asked this before (I could've sworn that at one point you had, but i can't for the life of me find the post) but do you have any thoughts about genderbent Regulus Black?

I can see there being a much more different sibling dynamic between them and Sirius as there isn't an heir and backup dynamic with Walburga and Orion no doubt seeing Regulus as a tool to be married off. Not to mention they'd be much more strict with Sirius without a backup heir to replace him.

Not to mention it would be interesting if Tom saw Regulus as a chance to better win the loyalty of the pureblood community, after all having a bride from one of the most prestigious pureblood families would raise his standing by a lot.

I absolutely love your female Harry AU's especially "I pray(death parts us)" and "Serpent In These Still Waters ", and I love the marriage dynamic between Tom and Harry.

However I do wonder about the arranged marriage dynamic that Tom could have. Especially with someone who was born into the world of pureblood politics.

No pressure obviously to answer if you're not interested, but yea I was just wondering.

Ohh yes I know the one you're talking about! I ended up with Rana Black being the fem!Regulus name - you can read the original outline here.

I do have many thoughts about it - mainly how Ran would have grown up shaped by society's expectations and how she would eventually grow to cast those expectations off.

In my idea, Rana manages to convince Orion to ship her off to Beauxbatons. Orion, because his daughter is his favourite child, agrees to do this one thing for her, despite any objections from his wife. Rana actually eventually moves permanently to France with Kreacher as her ""guardian"" (because let's be real, the wizarding world has a pretty broken view on how young children should be raised and this isn't that far out of the norm for them). So Rana misses a large portion of the bullshit that is brewing in Britain.

But...

Walburga sees, Walburga knows. In the brief instances she actually interacts with her daughter (who seemed to grow up between blinks, who turned from a slim and silent shadow of a girl into a calm and confident young woman far from her mother's influence), Walburga learns.

Rana is not some demure wife-to-be. She is a...liberationist. A young woman with incorrect and damaging opinions on what her place in the world should be. Her time in France, in that school, has warped her understanding of her duty.

So, Walburga must fix this. As the new heir to the Black legacy, Rana has a responsibility to their House. She must bring in the next generation, and she must accept her place.

Walburga looks at Narcissa, at Bellatrix, and knows she must find her daughter a husband that can curb her radical views.

She also decides, rather firmly, that it's time her daughter learns deference. Learns to bow.

Orchestrating an encounter between her daughter and the Dark Lord is easy enough. Walburga is one of the few that still sees Tom Riddle in the face of Voldemort, and that tenuous childhood connection gives her enough leverage to push her daughter into the man's space with the implied permission to teach the girl how to drop her chin.

Only...that's not what happens.

Voldemort sees Rana's spark, sees her potential and her ideas and her biting cynicism towards the structures of their society; sees the way her eyes constantly drift towards the horizon, towards France, and finds himself a little curious at this until-now unknown Black.

(Voldemort is, after all, a radical himself. Why Walburga thought he would dismiss Rana's ideals or find her foolish is beyond him.)

Marriage isn't the first or fourth or even twentieth plot he envisions with Rana Black - but eventually it does creep into his purview.

And that intrigue, the future he could see forming with everything Rana Black brings with her, is enough for him to kick things into gear.

The biggest problem - the only problem, really - is that Rana Black does not want to marry.

Anyone.

Not even the Dark Lord.

[embras-grace]

I am excited to learn more about the Order and Majiri culture as a whole (once they fix the bugged welcome party quest, I hear some folks can't access it).

This is a lot of rambling so its under a cut plus there are some plot spoilers in here.

So far, we know that Majiri choose Paths at a certain age (most likely a certain point in adulthood since Kenyatta hasn't chosen hers but, but Nai'o has) and that Path decides what you do... forever. If you change it (unless you are a solider and retire, per Ashura) or stray from your parent's Path then you're an outcast and many consider you a failure (see: Reth).

So you are basically stuck doing what your parents were doing, and their parents were doing, and face societal rejection from the majority... so it seems fair to say that Majiri society is run on a strict class system. Governors stay governors, farmers stay farmers. Some can be rich (mentions of Farming being a good Path as it can be very lucrative, but Badruu's family has been noted to be unable to pay their raised taxes). Straying from what you are meant/born to do is unforgivable... but Kenyatta is considering a Healer Path instead of Governing. Kenli even mentions he choose Farming as his Path but he was forced to go into Governing.

Some Majiri seem very happy with this though, like Najuma, who mentions her disappointment at Auni for wanting to stray from his family's Path and not learn from them. She also mentions she can't imagine human life without Paths because "how can you know you will help anyone?"

On one hand, it seems nice that some Majiri find comfort in their Paths, choosing what they want, much like choosing a college major. On the other, they can end up very unhappy or regretting their decisions, or worse, being considered a pariah.

But we ALSO know the Majiri live in a world where their government, the Order, get to burn and ban books. As we all know, no good guy in history burned or banned books. The Order says they ban Flow and magic to protect people because the humans went extinct because of something happening with Flow--but the library also mentioned shadow being/creatures which could have aided in the downfall.

But the Grimalkin aren't beholden to Flow rules due to the trade wars and, therefore, neither are humans. In fact, humans aren't banned from using magic either because they weren't around when the laws were made. Does this mean the Order will try to enforce this rule on humans without fair representation in the Council?

Is the Order representing a strict police state Majiri live under? The Order hire mercenaries (like Sifuu) when monsters are involved or work with the military (per Ashura) and some look on them very positively (Hassian) yet others are very wary (Caleri cause of her banned books the Order will burn and Elouisa being distrustful of officials in power, and for good reason, I assume).

My theory is that the Order are, 100% beyond a shadow of a doubt, the bad guys.

They ban a normal part of the world (Flow) from every being used and ban magic--while using magic themselves!

"To keep people safe" yeah right, that's what all fascist police states say. "We learn about this to protect you from it, we ban and burn books because this is too dangerous for you" what is too dangerous? Knowledge? Tamala used to be part of the Order (I don't believe her "grandmother" excuse for a second) and yes, she used them and their knowledge to make herself younger, but okay?

There would be ways to ensure Flow and magic stay well-controlled and safe without burning and banning books, encouraging the eyes of children to join the Order for some mysticism in their lives...

The Majiri to me seem like a people whose culture is very stifled and knowledge is held away from them. Not even Jina, who is a researcher, can research human Flow without potentially getting in trouble!

The Order are the bad guys. And while Paths and the like don't make Majiri society bad, it does make it very divided, especially for people like Reth.

I think Embra brought humans back to bring some honest joy back to the world. No Paths, no bans, just being pure creatures happy to be alive and without the pressures of ancient culture bearing down on them. Humans can do anything and everything! They can join every guild! Why should Majiri be able to do so, too?

I don't think humans are a "savoir" thing either, I think Paths are good and Majiri society has so many positives and its so rich in its culture... but it fails some of them. It failed Reth and Kenli, Kenyatta is feeling forced to go to Governance but will choose Healing, and its failing Auni (pressure to become a Farmer despite him wanting something more out of life) as well as Jel (his own mother hasn't accepted him into the family name yet).

I think humans are Embra's way of trying to show these people--who haven't heard from Maji (per Chayne) in hundreds of years--that the Phoenix and Dragon are still here, and they want their creations to live life to the fullest and love their world. Humans got it wrong before, but with the aid of the Majiri they can live in balance with nature and each other. And with the aid of the humans, Majiri can live in balance with themselves.

After all, you can pick one Path and stick to it... but what's the harm if you stray? Its a big world out there and people are always changing as they grow older... why not explore all your options to the fullest?

I just think the Order is the main bad guy and I don't like them.

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Let Me Be Your Light

Phantom of the Opera/Romantasy AU ~ 3.4 k

Explicit Excerpt from my ongoing fic Charlie and Vaggie explore escape the castle for the glowing gardens of Morningstar Castle, and a little time alone~

-------{--(@

Charlie led Vaggie by the hand out into the gardens as the last vestiges of the sun cast a warm, red-pink glow over Morningstar Castle. 

The hellish scarlet sky seemed to have softened just for them—though it always turned a little rosier during the sunset and sunrise. 

Which meant now was the perfect time for Charlie to take a romantic stroll with her not-girlfriend—and show her something amazing. 

Vaggie, her white hair catching the golden light, sent a speculative glance over at the princess. “Is this going to help you with your singing, hon?”

“I mean it can’t hurt, right?” Charlie grinned, her tone playful, if not a little mischievously as she swung their arms and pulled them around the glistening fountains. 

The shadows from the castle gathered on the veranda behind them, but seemed to pool and halt right at the edge of the open marble porch—unable to follow Charlie out in the garden with the last dregs of the sun still up. 

Charlie hummed happily as they strolled into her mother’s lush green garden. It was comfortable, familiar, a sanctuary with walls and barriers separating it from the chaos of the Kingdom of Hell beyond. 

“Suuuure it is,” Vaggie teased, openly flirtatious for the first time. And thrilling the princess as she stretched out her white wings and took in the warm air between her pristine feathers. 

She loved making her angel happy. Charlie just wished that they could always be like this—alone and together. Able to be who they really were, if only for a little while. 

She knew that they would have to return to the castle soon, back to the roles and scripts they were born into. but for now, she was content to simply enjoy this moment.

She squeezed Vaggie’s hand, feeling a surge of affection for the angel by her side.

“I’m so glad you’re here with me,” Charlie murmured, her voice barely audible over the rustling of the leaves.

 Vaggie looked up at her, her eyes finally softened “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” she replied, leaning in.

Charlie wanted to kiss her angel then and there, right now. But she felt the unease as she leaned close. Vaggie’s gaze darted towards the castle doors, still in view around the fountain. 

No doubt thinking about her fellow angelic guards they passed on their way outside. 

Charlie settled for pressing a sweet kiss to the back of her hand, and pulling her further into the garden. 

The princess’s excitement was palpable, and she practically bounced on the balls of her feet as she led Vaggie towards a hidden corner of the green space.

“I know you’re probably wondering why I dragged you out here,” Charlie said, giggled.

“You didn’t have to drag me.” Vaggie protested. 

“But trust me, you’re going to love it.” 

Vaggie raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

As they rounded a corner, Charlie came to a sudden stop. Vaggie nearly collided with her, but just ended up brushing up against her crimson skirt. 

Charlie’s eyes were fixed on something in front of them, and the angel quickly followed her gaze.

Nestled within a tranquil glade was an awe-inspiring sight—a topiary, meticulously crafted to resemble the beautiful Queen Lilith. The evergreen figure stood tall, her figure lovingly carved from living leaves, her lush hair etched in verdant foliage cascading down her back. 

Even more enchanting, was the radiant light that surrounded Lilith. A warm, golden aura emanated from within its leafy veins, casting an ethereal glow that bathed the entire clearing in an otherworldly light.

Charlie knew that was what her father had created. That he had trapped some of his glowing angelic orbs inside the image of his beloved wife. So she would shine forever. 

“She’s beautiful,” Vaggie breathed, her strong voice gone soft with awe. “This is your mother?”

Charlie beamed. 

“Yeah, it is! It was my idea to make it, and it enchant it so it’s always in full bloom.” The princess looked up at the image of the first Queen of Hell, her own eyes starting to get a bit misty. “It’ll never fade or wither away, no matter what time of year it is.”

“Oh Charlie, that’s beautiful.” Vaggie murmured. 

“Yeah, she really was.” the princess murmured, filling her eyes well up as she looked up at her mother’s enchanted image. 

It felt so lifelike, and yet so still. Never to change again. It filled her with a heady cocktail of emotions—pride and sadness. But more than anything, there was this longing ache for her mother. 

Like the memories from seven years ago had already faded far too quickly. 

A frown drew across Vaggie’s lips as she pulled the other closer. 

“It’s okay, Charlie,” she whispered, her breath warm against the princess’s ear. “I’m here for you.”

And finally, finally, Charlie felt the angel’s warm arms slipping around her middle. Pulling her in close. Her wing just starting to drape over the half-demon’s shoulder. 

Charlie leaned into the hug, feeling the softness of Vaggie’s white and gold feathers against her cheek.

“I just miss her so much,” Charlie said, her voice choked with emotion. “It’s hard to believe she’s really gone.”

Vaggie squeezed her tighter, her wings enveloping Charlie in a protective cocoon. “I know it’s hard,” she said. “But she’s still with you, in a way. She’s a part of you, and she always will be.”

 She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the garden around them: the rich earthiness of the autumn leaves, the sweetness of the roses, the faint metallic tang of the castle’s distant fires. It was a comforting smell, one that reminded her of home.

The blonde turned and pressed close to her companion, resting her chin against the top of Vaggie’s head. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.” She repeated, her voice turning low and heated as she murmured against the other’s ear. 

Vaggie gave a giggle, turning her head towards the princess. “You said that already, hon.” She teased lightly, turning towards the other woman. 

“I just wanted to emphasize that—”

Vaggie cut Charlie off by finally pressing their lips together. She cupped the younger’s cheek, pulling her in close to sweeten the kiss. 

 Charlie’s eyes fluttered closed, and she felt a wave of pure happiness wash over her. This sense of belonging, of something that was so right despite all the walls between them. And as she kissed Vaggie, she knew that she never wanted to let her go.

Vaggie’s wings fluttered around them, creating a soft, feathery cocoon that blocked out the rest of the world. 

Charlie’s heart raced as her hands wandered over the stiff fabric of Vaggie’s soldier jacket, her fingers itching to undo the golden ties and fastens and feel the soft blouse and skin underneath. 

But….someone from the castle could still wander their way, and catch them. 

Suddenly Vaggie grabbed Charlie’s shoulders, pushing her back to separate their lips. “What was that?” She asked, eyes narrowed as she peeked out between her feathers.

The princess pulled back, looking around, but all she saw was that the sky above them had turned from its deep pink to a dark, reddish purple. Hinting at the first sparkling stars. 

“I thought I saw…some sort of shadow.” Vaggie murmured, her lips pressed tight in a frown as she lowered her wings to have a better look around. 

“It’s just a guard, I’m sure,” Charlie said, trying to reassure Vaggie. “We’re safe.”

Vaggie gave an unconvinced grunt, her grip on Charlie tightening. “I’m not sure,” she said, her voice laced with concern. “Stay close to me.”

Charlie nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel Vaggie’s wings expanding slightly, ready to take flight if necessary. 

But nothing manifested from the growing darkness. 

“Come on,” Charlie urged, taking the angel’s hand in hers. “Let’s keep exploring—I want to show you one more thing.”

Vaggie stayed still as a sentinel statue for a long moment, before he nodded. “Lead the way.”

-------{--(@

“You’re going to love this,” Charlie trilled with purest excitement. 

Unfolding before them was an enchanting secret sanctuary, veiled from prying eyes by a towering hedge of thickly woven ivy leaves, their glossy surfaces shimmering in the dark purple night. 

The plants were not ordinary greenery but living lanterns that painted the night with their soft glow. There were tall stalks of moonlit ferns standing like sentinels on either side of the path, their fronds unfurling into delicate lacework patterns that glittered with a supernatural silver sheen.

Clusters of midnight roses lined the edges of the path, their dark petals brushed with strokes of starlight, casting a gentle sapphire radiance that danced upon Vaggie’s awestruck face. 

Between these spectral beauties were beds filled with bioluminescent lilies and irises. Their vibrant hues were amplified by their inherent glow—purples so deep they mirrored the twilight sky and blues so bright they rivalled the ocean’s depth on a sunny day. At least, so Charlie had seen in her father’s old story books. 

A carpet of luminescent moss spread across patches on the ground; it was like walking over constellations trapped beneath your feet, each step sending ripples of light across the verdant canvas. 

The entire garden was bathed in a soft, bioluminescent glow, a living tapestry of light and color that transformed the night into a celestial dreamscape.

“Wow,” Vaggie breathed, her eyes wide with wonder. “This is amazing.”

Charlie grinned, pleased with her companion’s reaction. “I discovered it a few weeks ago,” she said, her voice filled with pride. “I come here sometimes to escape the castle and clear my head. Politics is exhausting sometimes.”

As they walked through the garden, hand in hand, Charlie felt a sense of peace settle over her.

She glanced over at Vaggie, who was smiling up at her 

“Thank you for showing me this,” the angel hummed. 

Charlie’s smile grew wider. “I’d do anything for you,” she said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Vaggie’s lips.

“Anything, huh?” the angel guard teased into the kiss. 

The glow of the bioluminescent plants seemed to cast a spell over the two, a secrecy that pulsed with anticipation. 

A surge of desire welled up in the Princess as their lips met again, kisses turning feverish as she felt her own heartbeat quicken in time with Vaggie’s. 

The subtle rustle of feathers cocooned back around them, closing Charlie in the warmth radiating from the angelic soldier in her arms. Until the world around them, outside of the glowing garden, faded to nothing.

Her fingers slid down the front of the uniform, undoing the jacket, as the pristine feathers turned fluffy—with arousal. 

Charlie practically jumped into Vaggie’s arms. Sending them both tumbling over into the starry moss beside the midnight roses, both laughing as they fell. 

“Charlie!” Vaggie tried to admonish, but it was ruined by her musical laugh. 

“Whaat?”

Without breaking the intimate embrace, the half-demon lifted herself to straddle the angel’s hips. Her hands came to grip the dress bunched at the princess’s thighs as Vaggie eagerly leaned up into another kiss. 

Slowly, Charlie eased open the uniform jacket, revealing the ruffled white blouse she wore as she trailed kisses along the gray skin of her companion’s neck. Feeling the divine pulse fluttering underneath. 

The princess dragged her tongue along the purplish vein, feeling the edge of her horns wanting to peek out from her blonde hair as she dragged the loose collar of Vaggie’s shirt away from her breast. 

“Charlie…” 

Her name sounded like music on the angel’s tongue. 

Vaggie’s fingers slipped into Charlie’s hair, making the princess have to focus on pulling back her horns as she dropped her mouth to her companion’s chest. Her forked tongue lavished attention on the dark grey nipple, working it taught as the angel squirmed beneath her in the soft grass. 

Which just made her want to give more attention to the other side of her chest. 

“Charlie, please.” Vaggie whined, her back arching off of the moss and pressing more into that sinful mouth. “Let me touch you.”

“You can always touch me,” She hummed, though she refused to let up. 

Charlie felt it the moment Vaggie’s fingers found their way under her hitched skirt, clawing at her lacy under garments. 

The princess was already soaked—she had been from that first heated kiss. She’d missed her girlfriend so damn much. It didn’t matter that Vaggie was stationed in Hell—the few days she returned to Heaven durning the equinox were always too long. 

Vaggie dug her heels into the grass, pulling Charlie into her with her puffed up wings, finally getting into her undeerthings. 

“Vaggie,” Charlie moaned breathlessly as fingers finally touched her, just brushing over her clit before sliding inside her. Making her shiver with desperate need. 

They knew each other well now. Had spent countless nights in the Princess’s chambers exploring each other, loving each fluffed up feather and Charlie’s eagerly flicking tail. 

But now wasn’t the time for hours and hours of adoring. 

Charlie’s fingers fumbled with the buttons on Vaggie’s slacks, even as she rocked her hips onto the angel’s curling digits, desperately grinding into her palm. 

“Honey, let me—”

“Please,  don’t stop.” Charlie begged, her eyes cloudy with her pleasure, chasing desperately as the heel of Vaggie’s hand rubbed against her clit. 

The half-demon’s tail slashed out behind her. Colliding harmlessly with the wings surrounding her. 

Charlie tried again, nearly tearing at the white pants, desperate to feel her, to please her beloved companion too. When Vaggie lifted herself from the ground, and pushed the princess over into the grass. 

The laugh bubbling from the blonde’s lips before Vaggie’s mouth was back on hers, tasting her tongue as her hand was back under Charlie’s skirts. Pushing her pale thighs open as she pinned her to the ground. 

Vaggie was never this…assertive. And Charlie trembled eagerly under her, tugging at her short hair as she took everything the angel gave. 

Those heavenly fingers curled back into her pussy, driving her closer and closer—as Vaggie ground herself against Charlie’s trapped thigh. 

“Baby—” the princess barely had a chance to whine as she tumbled over the edge at last. Her head throan back by a keening moan as she clenched around Vaggie’s fingers. Curling into her walls, dragging out every ounce of pleasure, until she fell limp in her lover’s hold. 

The soft glow of the bioluminescent garden cast an ethereal light on Charlie’s flushed cheeks as she pulled away from Vaggie’s lips.

 She was panting, her chest heaving, and her her hands newly determined to get those damn pants off of the angel

.Vaggie’s wings were already puffy with arousal above her, blocking out the deep sky sparkling with stars, the feathers shimmering with a golden iridescence that seemed to mirror the light of the garden.

Charlie’s own demon tail swayed back and forth between her, growing in eagerness again. She could feel the slickness run down her thighs, the wetness that Vaggie had caused with just her fingers. 

She wanted more.

“Vaggie,” Charlie breathed, her voice husky with desire. “I want...I need...”

Vaggie’s hands were still inside Charlie’s lacy underwear, her fingers teasing and rubbing in all the right places. Charlie moaned, her hips bucking against Vaggie’s hand.

“What do you need, love?” the angel hummed against her ear, kissing her flushed pink skin. Making the princess squirm when she said that name. 

“I need, to touch you, too.” Charlie whined as kisses were making their way down the neckline of her dress.

 Vaggie was already asking, “Can I taste you, Charlie?” as her lips landed between the Princess’s breasts. 

Charlie’s heart skipped a beat at the question, and she could only nod her head in response. Vaggie’s eyes sparkled with desire as she lowered herself between Charlie’s splayed legs.

Her wings stretched out above them, casting their golden shadow over the princess as Charlie thrashed and whined beneath the angel. Feathers brushed her bare skin, their softness sending shivers down her spine. 

Her fingers grabbed desperately for Vaggie’s hair, as her tail wrapped around her waist to keep her close. 

Vaggie was good at distracting her. Clearing her mind of politics and court drama—but she was also good at keeping Charlie from reciprocating. Like the angel guard didn’t deserve to feel the princess’s hands on her. 

But, Vaggie wasn’t entirely out of Charlie’s reach. 

 Charlie’s tail twitched and writhed, worming dexterously around the angel’s waist—until it finally slid into those damn tight pants. 

The angel was soaked. Her undergarments drenched as Charlie’s tail found Vaggie’s folds. Sliding between them to collect her slick, before rubbing at the other’s swollen clit. 

Vaggie’s delighted cry vibrated against Charlie, making them both squirm. 

“Not…not fair.” the angel panted against Charlie’s core. 

“More than fair.” Charlie laughed, twitching the tip of her tail to tease her further. 

Vaggie gasped out a curse against Charlie, grinding her hips forward, before blindly delving back between her lover’s legs. 

 Charlie gripped Vaggie’s short hair, pulling her closer as she bucked her hips against her companion’s face.

The world around them seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in each other, their bodies moving in a perfect duet. 

Charlie could feel the pressure building inside her, the tension coiling like a spring. And then, with one final flick of Vaggie’s tongue, Charlie couldn’t hold back anymore.

Her body convulsed as she cried out, her magic bursting off of her in a flash of red light. Vaggie followed soon after, her golden magic mixing with Charlie’s as they came together.

The Princess lay panting and spent in the grass. Vaggie lay beside her, her wings wrapped around them like a protective cocoon once again.

“I love you,” Charlie whispered, her voice barely audible.

Vaggie stiffened in her arms, her soft wings gone ridged around them. 

“You don’t have to—”

“You mean the world to me Charlie, you know that.” Vaggie murmured, leaning up, pressing a kiss to her lips. That Charlie couldn’t help but think tasted just a little bit…like sorrow. Or regret.

Like she would never be able to have all of the angel, not all that she wanted. 

But the princess tried not to think about that. 

She closed her eyes, letting the sound of Vaggie’s heartbeat lull her for as long as the spell would hold. 

But as the night wore on, and the garden began to fade into darkness, Charlie knew that they would have to return to the castle. To the responsibilities and duties that awaited them. But for now, they had this moment. And that was enough. 

Charlie wanted it to be enough. 

Vaggie’s wings rustled as she sat up, the golden feathers shimmering as they faded back to white. 

Charlie groaned, her body still humming with pleasure as she buried her face and tried to stay a little while longer. 

“We should get back to the castle,” Vaggie said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Charlie’s tail twitched in protest, wrapping itself tighter around Vaggie’s waist. 

“Just five more minutes,” she pleaded, her voice muffled against Vaggie’s clothes.

Vaggie sighed, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on Charlie’s back. “Charlie, we can’t stay out here all night.”

Charlie sat up, her eyes meeting Vaggie’s. “Why not?” she asked, her voice filled with longing. “I want to stay here with you forever.”

Vaggie’s expression softened, her wings curling protectively around Charlie. “I want that too, Charlie. But we can’t..”

Charlie’s shoulders slumped, her tail drooping between her legs before it finally vanished. “I know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Vaggie leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Charlie’s forehead. “But we’ll come back here again. I promise.”

Charlie’s eyes brightened, a small smile playing on her lips. “You promise?”

Vaggie nodded, her wings fluttering softly. “I promise. Now come on, let’s get back before someone comes looking for us.”

Charlie reluctantly got to her feet. 

As they walked back towards the castle, Charlie couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadness wash over her. She knew that they couldn’t stay in the garden forever, but it was hard to leave a place that felt so perfect.

Follow the Fic on Ao3

[stardancerluv]

The Past Follows Like a Shadow

Part Eight

Summary: Gator and reader visits the past.

Notes/Warnings: Implied bullying, mention of the tire iron moment referenced in the show, angst, implied post sexual activity.

❤️s feedback & reblogs are appreciated!

“I told you, I’d get you into bed.” A soft chuckle came from him.

You glanced back at him from where you rested your cheek on his chest.

“I didn’t doubt it.”

He chuckled, his arm was draped lazily around you, his fingertips grazed lazy patterns on your hip.

Silence laid over the two of you, as you heard him take a pull on his vape.

“My life took a turn after that night.” His voice barely above a whisper.

You pressed your lips together. “We don’t need to discuss it.”

You truly did not want to. A strong sense to flee over came you. His finger grasped your hip, stilling your urge to resist. They dug into you.

“No you need to listen. By the time I was strong enough to reach out, you had run clear out of town. I barely caught sight of the dust clouds in your wake.”

“After you became a winner. I couldn’t stay around any longer.”

Now it was him you felt still. His grip grew firmer, you bit the inside of your cheek, so you didn’t gasp discomfort caused.

“This is exactly why you have to listen.”

He paused taking a pull on his vape.

“Overnight, the chores on ranch increased and he chose a fitness routine with one of his military buddies. Except a few I had already stashed away, he removed the books from my room.”

A chill came over you.

“With the leverage he had, I got onto the teams at school. I sucked as an athlete.” A chuckle came from him.

You glanced back at him. He looked grim.

“So the fights began, I wasn’t horrible.”

He paused, to take a pull on his vape. You shifted and rested on your elbow. He pushed himself back so his back was against the headboard.

“One day a bunch feeling tougher as group, ganged up on me like the old days and broke my leg. I got benched and Roy was beyond pissed.”

Your insides were churning. He had always seemed so much happier better off without you.

“I had recovered from my broken leg, when the final straw happened. I fixing up my pick up truck. I knew best to not stick around and try and make friends. They hated me, they hated and feared Roy.”

He paused to pull once on his vape.

“This guy the size of a good wardrobe; drove to the edge of the ranch’s driveway.”

He glanced down at you, you couldn’t read his eyes.

“I will never forget how I heard the crunch of his shoes on on gravel before everything slowed down and the violence that would come, accelerated.”

He pressed his lips together.

“I had only passed him a glance from where I was under the hood of the pickup. I had a few hours of peace; Roy wasn’t going to be home till late and Karen was getting the twins fitted for their christenings. I’d let him shoot his insults my way and then he could turn around and drive away.”

“That’s not what happened.” You managed to whisper.

“Nope. He slammed his hand onto the hood, startling me and the insults began pouring from his damn mouth.”

He took another pull from his vape. The smell of it fought with the scent of him or even the aftermath of the two of you. You noticed, it was like calming agent for him.

“I hit my the back of my head on the hood. Chuckles soon replaced the insults. And when I reached for whatever was closest to me, your name came from his lips.”

Your brow furrowed.

“And I don’t know it woke me up a d reminded of us, what we had what we had become and I lost it.”

A tear escaped one of your eyes, it had already been almost a year at that point. You had packed your backpack and left shortly after the story reached you. But it had sounded completely different.

“Oh, don’t cry.”

Shifting, the bed creaked under the two of you as he reached over and brushed the tear aside.

Distantly, you knew that hand that just comforted you was the one he used to hold that tire iron. You nodded and looked at him from under your lashes.

A smirk curled his lips.

“After Karen’s father got rid of the tire iron,” He continued. “He and Roy made all the right phone calls and all who knew happened are all stilled zipped up about it. And they never bothered me again.”

He chuckled. “Even Roy laid off me for a bit.”

“Good.”

You don’t know who moved first whether it was yourself or him. But once against you were against his chest and he had an arm around him. You knew deep down, if Nadine had never disappeared that would have never happened. Heck, the two of you could actually have ended up together.

********

Sunlight danced on your eyelids making you stir. Realizing, you were against a pillow and not him made you press your face deeper into the pillow. Sure now you knew more but what did that truly get you.

The sudden buzzing of your phone on your nightstand made you flinch. Blindly, you reached for it.

Blinking, it read YOUR GATOR.

It made you giggle despite waking up to him gone making you sour.

“I see you added yourself to my phone.”

His chuckle filled your ear but then it was cut short. “I did.”

You heard him say something garbled.

“Listen, we had a tragedy at the department. That’s why I left. I’ll call you later.”

“Alright.” You barely answered and he cut the call.

@keerygal @delikaitxx

[qilingxiong]

The first fic idea I ever had for MLC occurred sometime between the airing of episodes 8-14. I used it as a dialogue exercise by writing all the spoken parts first, then going back to fill in things like actions and thoughts. This never got completed as I stopped being as interested in exploring that segment of canon in writing (and I wanted to watch more of the show to ensure I got character voices right). However, I still think this concept was engaging, so here's what I did get finished before my mind wandered away.

"Would it be worse if I let Fang Duobing die in front of you, or just stole him from you?" Di Feisheng asks, stirring a bowl of soup he can't taste, and watches Li Xiangyi freeze.

He's gotten better at controlling his reactions, these last ten years. Harder to get a proper rise out of. The half-second of his entire body locking at Di Feisheng's words, though, before he drops his shoulders, forces himself to untense, is impossible to miss.

"If you can get that nuisance to stop following me around then it'll be a blessing," Li Xiangyi says, too casually, and swallows down a mouthful of wine from his bottle. "I need some peace in my house."

"Interesting." They're jammed close enough sitting together at Li Xiangyi's kitchen table that even by dim lamplight Di Feisheng can read his expression, see the urge to wander away from the topic spelled in his eyes.

"Honestly, I'd be surprised if you could make him leave me alone," Li Xiangyi continues, quick in the silence. "I've already left him by the road twice and he still manages to find me. I say, he's even more stubborn than Huli Ji—"

"Li Xiangyi. Don't pretend to be obtuse, we're both smarter than that. Or I hope you are." Di Feisheng sips at his own wine, and thinks, idly, that there are some things it's better not to sense the flavour of anymore. The smell of wine is off-putting enough; at least drinking like this is finally worth its effects. "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt that you've somehow gotten more perceptive about things since Qiao-guniang."

"The past is past. Both A-Mian and I have moved on."

"Right. You've grown beyond that, or however you word what you're telling yourself. Congratulations." He raises his bottle in mockery of a toast. "So you've noticed how that boy acts around you."

Li Xiangyi sighs, lets the sound fade into the night. "He's not being subtle."

"Look at him. Have you never considered it?"

"What... have you?" Li Xiangyi frowns.

Di Feisheng lets himself smile, the one reserved for heralding challenge. "I'm more interested in whether or not you have."

"He's Shan Gudao's son."

"And that's what would hold you back? He's still his own person."

"How many years are there betwe—"

"Even if you don't know what you want, he does."

Li Xiangyi falls quiet.

"He's young. Whatever he thinks he wants, he's wrong," he says, gaze tracing the worn wood of the table. "And whatever it is, it's not really you, anyway."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that."

"Then why think of trying anything?"

"It would be amusing. Amusing," Di Feisheng says, "depending on how you answer the question you're dodging, Li Xiangyi. Was it a yes or no? How much have you thought about him?"

Li Xiangyi just eyes him before tipping his head back, pouring wine into his mouth instead.

"Although even if it's yes that doesn't amount to much, since you'll never say anything to him. He'll be left making hopeless eyes and promises at you." Di Feisheng laughs, the shadow of it wound in his voice. "That didn't change after all this time, did it? Li Xiangyi, the perfect elusive hero, forever chased after but never held. Who will ever really know his hea—"

"Fine. Yes. Once." Li Xiangyi slams his bottle down on the table. It's a proper glare he fixes Di Feisheng with now. Familiar. "Are you happy now?"

"That's all?"

"What else do you want?" He crosses his arms. "I'm not giving you details. You used to be creative, if I remember. Fill in the blanks if you care that much."

Di Feisheng scoffs. "Next question, then." He pushes aside the wine. "You wouldn't like it if I were to go have my own fun with him, would you?"

"Aren't you already enjoying yourself with all this?"

"You call watching you give up on yourself fun?" Di Feisheng snaps before thought, leaning closer, and oh, maybe he's had one sip of wine too many. "You think losing— no. This isn't fun."

Li Xiangyi stares at him. "You don't care about Fang Duobing."

"Never pretended I did, in this. The point is that you do."

[raineandsky]

#64

tw: implied violence, blood

The concrete is rough against the henchman’s hands. He makes a naive attempt to get back up, but the blossoming pain of the hero's shoe connecting with his side is enough to keep him down. Tears are making his surroundings blurry, his voice trapped painfully in his throat.

“Look who I caught lurking in the shadows,” the hero spits coldly. “Outside. One of [Villain]’s playthings, no doubt.”

The superhero hums approvingly. “Good find. Maybe this one can actually tell us something.”

A moment of silence follows, suddenly unsure. “Are we doing it now?” the hero asks. 

The superhero tilts her head thoughtfully, regarding the henchman shivering at her feet. “Would you like to?”

“No, no.” The hero lets out a flat laugh. “Just wondering.”

The superhero turns to throw them a pleased smile. “He won’t be leaving any time soon. No rush.”

The hero nods shortly, and she waves them off a little dismissively. “You’ve done a splendid job this evening, [Hero]. Take this thing to a cell, and we can discuss what we’d like to know in the morning.”

The hero wordlessly heaves the henchman off the floor, shoving him past the superhero and into the corridor beyond. His footsteps stumble irregularly, cutting through the hero’s own perfectly rhythmic step. Their united shuffling echoes dully off the walls.

The hero stops him in a seemingly random corridor, gently nudging him into the bathroom. He points his gaze down to avoid the mirrors against the sinks, but he catches a glimpse of his reflection all the same—dusty, bloody, a bruise blooming cruelly against his cheek. He never knew the hero could be so vicious. Not to him.

The hero pulls a cleaning sign out from behind one of the stalls, glancing into the corridor outside before placing it on the floor beyond the door. The henchman doesn’t even look at them when they move back towards him.

“You’re a damn good actor,” he snaps, and he can’t keep the sharpness out of his tone.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” the hero says softly. “I– I didn’t mean to do this much. Here, let me clear you up a bit.”

The henchman scowls, but he doesn’t stop the hero from running a wad of tissue under one of the taps. Their hand drifts under his chin, carefully tilting his face towards the shabby overhead lights. “You’re so beautiful,” they breathe after a moment, and the henchman scoffs.

“I’m covered in dirt and blood.”

“And yet you still shine like the only star in the sky.”

The hero gently takes the tissue to his face, their touch purposely delicate. They sit in silence for a minute, the hero diligently wiping at his skin and the henchman trying not to scrunch his face up at the earnest attention he’s getting.

“You know I didn’t want to do this,” they continue once they’re satisfied with their work. The tissue in their hand is dotted with crimson stains.

“I know. I saw the camera.”

The hero sighs as they toss the tissue into the bin behind them. “I’ll make it up to you, my love. I promise.”

The henchman nods shortly and they take his face in their hands, gentle as to not disturb the wounds they’ve caused. He really is a pretty thing—they couldn’t believe their luck when he asked them on that first date along the river. They were both in too deep by the time they realised who the other was.

“Safe to say your boss doesn’t know?”

The hero snorts amusedly, tracing a thumb idly over the freckles splayed over his face. “Safe to say yours doesn’t either?”

“[Villain] was never one for romance.” The henchman graces them with a lopsided grin, but it dies down after a moment. “I feel like this is the closest we’ve been in weeks.”

The hero’s schedule has taken up most of their days; the henchman’s has taken up most of his nights. Their shared flat is feeling lonelier and lonelier every time they have to arrive home to no one.

“I’ll fix that,” the hero says certainly. “I’ll get you out, and I’ll come home.”

The henchman gives them another wonky smile, hopeful if not a little pained, and they can’t help but kiss him. It’s soft, like he’ll fall apart, but they feel his hands on their waist all the same, pulling them into him. The hero can only hope it says everything they wish they had the time to say— I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you, I need you, I miss you, I love you, I love you, I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you.

They pull back from him after a moment, offering him a content grin and getting one back. The way the lights dance in his eyes looks like stars. “I should probably lock you up for the crime of coming here now,” the hero points out quietly, and the henchman barks out a short laugh.

“That’s fair.” His hands move away from them, much to their disappointment. “I only came here for one reason, anyway. I’ve nothing else to do but go to jail now.”

The hero sighs, planting one last kiss on his forehead. “I’ll get you out by morning.”

“I love you,” the henchman says, and the soft smile he gives them feels like they’re staring into the beauty of the rising sun.

[intosnarkness]

hi I love your writing!! what about 61. “I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married.” with kanej?

Come off anon and say that to my face so we can kiss because I need more Six of Crows friends to scream about plot ideas with. Also I hope you wanted 2500 words. I may post this on AO3 in the future, who knows.

This had to go this way or I would just be recreating "come to me in red" which is a fucking killer story and you should read it if you like this trope. Forgive typos, written and not proofread. (1 2 or make up your own) (ask)

It's not Kaz's fault. It's not anything wrong with him that made her start to doubt. He had been nothing but willing to try, to fight, to concede steps for her needs.

But it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for either of them to have him on land and her at sea. It wasn't enough to spend a week together every three months. And when that last week - their fifth week together in over a year - had gone so badly, well.

"What are we doing?" she asked, after the second time she woke up with his arms around her and he woke up with her knife biting into his throat in defense.

"What are we doing?" she asked, after a brush of her fingertips had sent him spiraling, retching in the corner in a blind panic for the third time.

"What are we doing?" she asked, watching Jesper and Wylan hold hands as they walked through the streets, unafraid to be tied to each other. Neither of them frightened or fighting or hurting each other. Healthy. Whole.

He had no answers for her. No reasons that they should keep going beyond that he loves her. And she doesn't know if them loving each other is enough.

"Marry me," Kaz had said, on his knee in his bedroom, the night before she was due to leave again. "We'll get through it. It's hard now because we're just starting. It will get easier, and I don't want it to get easier with anyone else."

Somehow, it hurt that it wasn't a question. It hurt that he thought a couple of bands of gold could fix all the things that were broken in them. It hurt that she knew - she knew - that he could get past his issues. He was too stubborn, too determined not to. What she didn't know was if she could. If she would ever be well. If she would ever be able to accept the limitations that life and tragedy and trauma put on them.

It hurt that she loved him. And it hurt that he loved her, too.

"No," she told him, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She didn't tell him he deserved better, because he would fight her on that. She didn't tell him that he was insane to think this would change anything, because he probably knew. She didn't tell him that she wasn't going to stay in Ketterdam and he wasn't going to leave, because he wasn't asking her to. All Inej knew was that she had to stop this before it destroyed them both, so instead she closed her eyes and bit her lip and lied.

"I don't want to marry you. I don't want to be yours," she had swallowed the tears that welled up in her throat, forcing herself over the edge. "I don't want you to tie me down."

It broke her heart, but she knew it was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. It was all she could do.

"Inej--" it was too hard. It was too painful. It was too much.

She left before he could beg her to reconsider, and went back to her ship. And when they left the next morning, Inej pretended not to see the glint of silver in the shadows, watching them head for the horizon.

---

The letter is in a drop at Bhez Ju, but Inej assumes there are identical ones in Os Kervo and Shriftport and every other place the Wraith makes supply stops. She doesn't get much mail from Ketterdam these days, not since she walked out on Kaz. There had been a time when they were always waiting, neat lines of prose that she could imagine were full of longing. Letters inscribed by that careful hand that had held hers, that had bandaged her wounds.

But those stopped years ago, and now she gets occasional life stories from Jesper, or sweet missives from Nina, or business updates from Wylan, who has taken over Kaz's job of surveilling the merchers for slave activities.

She writes back, but she never asks what she wants to know.

How is he? Is he happy? Is he healing?

She doesn't get to know things like that anymore. It isn't fair for her to ask.

But the letter she picks up, six years after she went to sea and five years after she last saw Kaz, has that same careful handwriting that she's missed so much.

To his credit, it's not an invitation to the event. It's just an announcement. And it breaks her heart all over again. Because Councilwoman and Mrs. Radmakker are pleased to announce the marriage of their daughter Annemieke to the Honorable Kaz Brekker.

Her world doesn't end. It seems like it should, but Inej doesn't feel anything but numb at the words in front of her. Had she thought he wouldn't move on? Had she thought he would wait for her to come back? She never planned to come back, why would he be carrying that torch? That's never been who Kaz was.

But she hasn't moved on. She has waited. She hasn't loved anyone since him, and she isn't sure if she ever can. If she's just to twisted up and ugly inside to ever give herself to another person, after so much of herself was taken from her. She might have planned to let him go, to let him find his happiness in arms that aren't hers. But now, faced with the truth of it, Inej knows she can't. She can't let Kaz marry some mercher's daughter without at least telling him how she feels. She owes him that.

The heart is an arrow, she thinks as she walks back to the ship and tells Spect to recall the crew and set a course to Ketterdam. They have two weeks before the date on the announcement, and she doesn't intend to miss the love of her life walking down the aisle.

------

Summer storms on the true sea delay their return, and Inej finds herself sprinting through the streets of Ketterdam on the day of Kaz's wedding.

Someone at the docks had known about it - a plus to coming in to Fifth Harbor. He's getting married in the Church of Barter. Saints. What the Kaz she knew would say about that.

Still, at least it's not some roadside chapel where the pomp and circumstance would be done by 10 bells. Weddings at the Church are all-day affairs. It's perverse, to Inej's mind. There are all kinds of caveats; the wedding party has to clean the space in the morning to show their industry. The bride and groom have to hold an auction before the ceremony, selling something together to symbolize their intention of being a profitable union. Then they have to make a purchase of either land or goods from a fellow parishioner, which they tithe back to the Church.

In bigger cases - and this will be a bigger case - the auction can last hours, rich merchers elbowing each other out of the way to show their devotion, raising bids a cent at a time. The sale can last just as long, depending on who shows up to sell what. Having your offering chosen by the couple is an honor. It will be in the paper tomorrow, who the Brekkers gave their kruge to.

Only after that will they sign the contract and seal the union.

Capitalism as a religion is weird, and even after all the years she spent living in it, Inej knows she will never understand anything about the Ghezenite church.

But at least there are breaks between the auction and the purchase, and before the contract signing. Time for the couple to reflect and thank Ghezen for their prosperity. There's a chance. She's holding tightly to the chance that she will be able to get there in time to see Kaz.

She arrives, out of breath and sweating, on the steps of the church as the auction is wrapping up. The doors are open, and she sees Kaz next to a beautiful blond woman, as tall as him and just as pale, at the front of the room.

He's wearing gloves. Its the first thing she sees, his hands are covered. They're white, and they go with his tuxedo, but they're gloves. He isn't standing next to his bride bare-handed, like she had always imagined he would with her. They they'd stand knee-deep in the flowers her family would throw at them, his fingers bare against hers, as they pledged their lives to each other.

But she gave that up, years ago. She gave up the right to even imagine it.

Still, she climbs.

The groom's suite is hidden in one of the fingers, which is no challenge for Inej to scale and slide in the open window of.

In fact, part of her wonders if the window was left open for her. If he wants her to come in. But it seems more likely that he wanted air, because every room in the Church is either too big or too small; there's no concern for comfort in the world of profit.

Inej waits. She doesn't bother to sit, or to hide. She just stands in the room and waits for him.

It probably takes an hour before she hears voices - and she knows those voices! - coming down the hall, laughing and chatting happily. It's Kaz, she can hear his low rumbled laugh at whatever Jesper is saying in his smooth lilt. They're coming, and she's standing here and she doesn't know what to say.

When he enters, he does so alone, apparently having sent Jesper on somewhere else. He doesn't look at her. He just takes the silly top hat from his head and lays it on the dressing table next to the door before speaking.

"Hello, Inej," he says. His voice is a practiced neutral

After all these years, it's a dagger through her. He still sees her. He still knows where she is.

"Hello, Kaz," she replies, and neither of them moves. He doesn't look at her.

But it's now or never. It's now or he goes downstairs to make his purchase and sign his contract and live in bliss with his new bride. He goes to forget her forever.

The words bubble out of her mouth unbidden, the arrow that is her heart pulling them out and firing them at him. "I love you," she says. "I'm completely and utterly in love with you. Please don't get married."

Kaz has the audacity to laugh, bracing both of the hands on the table in front of him. Almost doubled over from how funny he finds it all.

"You lost the right to say any of that to me five years ago," he tells her, when he's done laughing at her. Inej feels heat in her face, but she knows he's right. She has no business being here.

"That action will have no echo," she offers, but it's not enough. What could ever be enough to erase what she did? The damage she caused by walking away and staying away. "I was 18, and I was scared. I thought I'd never be better for you. I--" she swallows the lump in her throat. "I was wrong."

Kaz finally turns to look at her, his eyes as cold and dead as they ever were for his enemies. She misses the warm brown of fresh dirt, the way he used to look at her like she was something special. Something worth having.

He probably looks at Annemieke Radmakker like that now. Inej hopes the other woman knows how lucky she is, to be on the receiving end of those eyes.

"You left," he says, his voice rising. "And you never came back. You left and you never answered my letters. You left me, Inej. And now you think you have the right to show up and ruin this?"

His anger has always been frightening to her - she was trained very specifically to respond in certain ways to a man's anger. She has worked very hard to not cower and cry when she's faced with an irate man these days. To not behave like Heleen forced her to.

"I did," she agrees. "And I was wrong. And I don't have the right. But I-- but you sent me the announcement, Kaz. What did you think I would do?"

His eyes betray him for a bare moment, emotion flickering through them that she can still read. He's angry, yes. Very. But he was hoping she'd come.

"Why are you marrying her?" Inej asks, her courage roaring in her ears like the sea in a storm. She even dares to take a step towards him.

Kaz shakes his head. "It's political," he admits with a shrug of his shoulders. "She knows it. She doesn't-- she doesn't care. She's in love with her maid, and I have no problem with the two of them carrying on as long as they wish."

Inej dares to reach forward and take his hand. "Do you want to marry her?"

His anger wins, and Kaz snaps his hand away from her with an injured noise. "None of your business," he hisses. "You left."

"And you called me back," she says. "Kaz. Don't go through with it. Don't marry her."

"What do you suggest?" he snaps. "That I go tell the councilman that I don't want his alliance? That I don't want his help in shutting down indentures in Kerch? That I changed my mind because the woman who broke my fucking heart five years ago just showed up and I'm going to let her hurt me again?"

Inej feels the words like a blow. shutting down indentures in Kerch. He's still trying. He's still working on her mission, after all this time. And he's willing to marry someone he doesn't love and who doesn't love him to get it done.

"There has to be another way," she says, but before she can go further, there's a knock at the door, and Jesper's voice is ringing through it.

"Boss? Time for the purchase."

Inej reaches for his hand again, and this time he lets her take it. "Please," she breathes. "I-- please. I won't run away again. I won't hurt you, not on purpose. I won't. I won't."

She's desperate, her voice thin and reedy. She's begging, and she thinks in any other situation it would be humiliating. Kaz hesitates, looking between the door and where her hand is gripping his.

And then it's like a dam breaks, all the things that Kaz has been holding back erupting out of him because he takes a single step into her space and his hands are cupping her cheeks and he's kissing her with so much hunger, and anger, and passion that Inej thinks if it's the only kiss they ever get to have again, it might be enough.

She starts at the contact, but the shock and the memory it brings passes; she grabs his lapels, pulling his body flush with hers. It feels so right, so good, that she can’t remember for a moment why they ever stopped doing it.

And then he breaks away, his eyes scanning her face and his breath coming in soft little pants as he tries to maintain composure. Jesper knocks again, and Inej starts at the noise.

"Kaz? You okay?"

"Please," Inej whispers again, leaning into the warmth of him.

"Do you mean it?" Kaz whispers back, letting his head fall so their foreheads are pressed together. "Do you love me?"

"Yes," Inej says, and nothing has ever been more true in her entire life. She loves him. She has always loved him. "And if you want I'll go down there myself and complete that terrible ceremony with you right now. Please."

"Okay," Kaz says, stepping back out of her grasp and straightening his jacket. "I-- I'll go and I'll put a stop to it. But we are going to have a talk."

Inej can't help the tears that spring, unbidden, to her eyes, and run down her cheeks. "Really?"

"We'll end indentures another way," he says, and he squeezes her hand once before he turns to the door. "Wait for me?"

She nods. "Always."

[chaifootsteps]

Pilot and episode 1!Stolas are both more terrifying than any overlord or villain shown on screen, now that I think about it, hell, episode 1!Stolas was COLD. Striker and Crimson's weird satam cartoon villain scenes and Stella's "2000s female anime character in fanfic" vibes are really nothing compared to Blitzo running and fighting for his life in a dark forest, pursued by an armed and dangerous cannibal, all while some prince rambles alone in a luxurious bath, gleefully describing all the ways he wants to fuck Blitz while holding method of his livelyhood over his head.

I think what seals it for me, is how he casually goes "anywhoo" after clearly hearing a gunshot, knowing good and god damn well that could have been his favorite imp's head being blown off.

God, even reading it like this is enough to give me the chills. It's easily the darkest, most threatening scene in the entire series and everyone just handwaves it for the sake of their soft yaoi fix.

For me it's always been "Then let me keep it simple," the way the smile just vanishes from his face. It's a reaction that lets you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he could have heard the sound of another gunshot followed by the phone hitting the ground and just...gone on with his bath. C'est la vie.

Pilot!Stolas was threatening and unhinged, but episode 1!Stolas was a stone cold predator.

[realm-sweet-realm]

Enemy of my Enemy

This is the story of Volo first making contact with Giratina. Though their friendship quickly blossoms, the help of a deity does not come without a price.

---

The further Volo traveled into Turnback Cave, the more sure he was that this was the place he'd been seeking. The tome he'd bought off a merchant from his homeland had described a cave in which the physical realm lay dangerously close to the realm beyond. This cave certainly felt otherworldly with the way the rocks and earth shimmered and the dry ground yielded slightly too much under his feet, and how much bigger it seemed on the inside than the outside. And both the Celestica runes he'd investigated and the local folks had told him of the labyrinth within that had earned the cave its name. When one found themselves in Turnback Cave, the only way to survive was to turn back immediately.

Volo's growlithe barrelled towards him and rubbed against his legs, whining and looking up at him in hopes of getting fed, or at least getting a treat for keeping the wild zubats and geodudes at bay. "Sorry, little one," Volo said, "I don't have anything to give you."

They'd been in this cave for three days, and Volo's supply of food had run out yesterday. He was in so deep that turning back had left him just as lost. Maybe he should have heeded the warnings of the clan members when they'd told him to turn back. Maybe he was about to become one of the many lorekeepers who'd died here, hungry and deceived by how small the cave looked from the outside. But there was one thing left that he was willing to try.

"Giratina?" Volo called out, "I've come seeking you out. I want to make a deal."

A rumble sounded from within the cave, followed by a deep voice that Volo could hear within his head. Tell me your intent, it demanded.

Volo waved his lantern around, but it illuminated nothing but empty tunnel. "Well, I want to meet Arceus," Volo explained. "I want to know why the world is as unfair as it is, and if there isn't a good reason for it, I want to overthrow Arceus and fix it. I heard that Arceus locked you away for a very long time, so I thought you might understand. You do understand, don't you?"

Hmm... came the voice. Then there was a pause that to Volo seemed to last an eternity.

Suddenly, a tunnel opened up before Volo, perpendicular to the one he'd been hiking down.

Come, said Giratina.

Volo started down the path at a jog, his growlithe running ahead of him. The further he went down the tunnel, the more the rocks shimmered as though covered in a plasma veil, and the more the ground gave beneath his feet.

The tunnel then opened up to a room with a high ceiling and a sight Volo would never forget. Against the far wall and behind what looked like a purple force field, an enormous worm-like creature floated a few feet above the ground. A golden crown making up its face, the grey and red serpent was decorated with golden rings of armour. Black tendrils of shadow stretched from its back, each tipped with a blood-red claw. It didn't look exactly like the creature Volo had seen depicted in ruined temples, but was similar enough that there was no mistaking it. And its beady red eyes were focused on him.

Volo dropped to one knee before the creature. "Giratina. At last we meet. I've come seeking your service. I'd like to collect the eighteen plates of life so that I can converse with Arceus, and if you would help, I would be eternally grateful."

You need not kneel, Giratina said. I do not seek worship. It seems as though we are natural allies. I doubt that you will find the answers you seek in Arceus, but I will gladly help you reach It if it means I may have a chance to dethrone It. However, there is something I need help with first.

Volo rose to his feet. "And what would that be?"

As you have heard, I was banished to this realm. You must help me to escape it. There is a golden stone in this room- the griseous core. Pick it up.

Volo peered around, found a jagged golden rock, picked it up, and looked to Giratina for further instruction.

Now, you must touch me, Giratina ordered, pressing his shadowy tentacle against the barrier.

“Will do,” Volo replied. He returned his growlithe and set down his pokéballs- no need for his Pokémon to get hurt if this turned out to be a grievous mistake. Then, he took a deep breath and touched the barrier.

The barrier felt like several inches of thick wax, but with effort, Volo forced his hand through it. He grabbed onto Giratina's claw and was pulled through with ease.

Volo regained his footing. Now that he was past the barrier, he could see the environment in which Giratina dwelled- a strange world of endless purple skies, floating islands with strange geometries, and no life as far as the eye could see save for some bare trees and sickly flowers. "My..." Volo said. "So this is the place you've been spending the past few centuries, huh? It hardly looks like a pleasant place to spend such a long time.."

Not centuries. Millennia, Giratina corrected. But I would guess that you're much the same. Of all people I expected here, a Celestica was not one of them. Has Arceus wronged you as well?

"It certainly seems so. I'm one of the last Celesticas."

Giratina straightened up in surprise.One of the last? When I was sealed away, they were thriving. They were Arceus' chosen.

"Yes. Apparently not anymore." Volo laughed bitterly.

Ha. Then we do have something in common. I am Arceus' child, and yet he treats me worse than he treats his creations. No matter how many times I try to apologize, it's as though he doesn't hear.

"And I keep doing what the old faith tells me to, but it hasn't gotten me anywhere. It's as though he forgot all about us."

Sometimes, I wonder if he has. But your plan to gather the plates... that will work. I am sure of it. At any rate, the task at hand...

Giratina touched the griseous core with one of its tendrils, but nothing happened.

Hmm… it seems that Arceus put a seal on the stone as well. That is... unfortunate.

Giratina paused for a moment as it seemed to consider its options. Then its eyes fell upon Volo.

Would you do anything for your goal? Giratina asked coolly.

Volo met Giratina's eyes nervously, not knowing what to expect. But he'd come so far, and he had so little to return to. "Yes, of course, anything," he said.

Very well, Giratina said. Then, it touched Volo between his mouth and nose with one of its tendrils. The frigid smoke-like substance began to seep into Volo's nostrils, and then within seconds Giratina turned to smoke and entered Volo through his nose, mouth, eyes, ears, and pores, overwhelming him until he was knocked flat on the ground, spasming from the sheer amount of power and substance his body had been made to absorb. He felt simultaneously like he was being frozen from the inside and as though his body might burst like a burlap sack stuffed with too much cargo.

Go to the physical world, Giratina instructed.

Volo tried to think past the pain and understand what that meant.

Your world, the other side of the barrier! Giratina explained urgently.

Volo rose unsteadily to his feet and staggered to the boundary between worlds. It was harder coming through this time, as though the wax had thickened. As he permeated the outer barrier, he felt something begin to shatter around him- like a thin sheet of ice.

Evidently, Giratina had felt it, too. Yes, YES! the creature roared, a vibration that Volo could feel from within.

Once on the other side of the barrier, Volo dropped to his hands and knees. The griseous core he'd been holding tumbled onto the ground beside him.

Giratina tore out of Volo's body through his eye and touched the griseous core, brushing away the damaged barrier with ease before he'd even come out of its origin form, halting the process. Another touch allowed it to transform him into his worldly, altered form. Oh, yes! It worked! Giratina roared, dropping onto its new legs. The barrier is broken! My thanks, Hu-

It was then that Giratina looked back at Volo and saw the sorry state he was in. He was nearly unconscious and laying on his side, groaning as he held a blood-stained hand over his left eye. Volo pulled his hand away for a moment and saw that it was covered not just in blood, but a jelly-like substance that moments before had been contained in his eyeball. And he screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

"What did you do!?" Volo shouted, rising to his knees and looking up at the diety with terror.

Giratina struggled to find words. It knew what had happened: in its rush to see if the barrier was broken, he'd put too much pressure on a small, delicate part of Volo's body, and this had been the result.

I... I was reckless. The barrier is broken, so we will not have to do that ever again. Please, let me help you, human, Giratina replied.

Volo tried to rise to his feet, but stumbled. "Go ahead," he said weakly, probably feeling as though he had no other choice.

With its beak-like mouth, Giratina picked Volo up by his backpack and placed him on its back. It opened up a path straight to the outside, gently flew out, and plucked a branch full of sitrus berries from a nearby tree. It craned its neck back to hand Volo the berries.

It is these that heal you, right?

Volo opened his eyelids weakly. Giratina hung its head when it saw again the bloody mess it had caused.

"Yes, that's the healing stuff," Volo said, putting some enthusiasm into his tired voice. He picked two of the sitrus berries and ate them, juice running down his face. Giratina put down the branch and took a bite of the sitrus tree as well.

Mmm... not bad! Much tastier than antimatter. Are there any other berries in this area?

Volo slid off of Giratina's back, looking haunted but a little more energetic now.

"Indeed there is," he said, surprisingly calmly given the situation. "You don't know much about this world, do you? Well, I'll just have to show you, then. But... not right now. Going through that barrier tuckered me right out. Can you make sure that no one disturbs us?"

Yes, Giratina promised. I will make sure no one comes near enough to see us.

"Thanks."

Giratina laid down in the shade of the trees and watched as Volo dug through his backpack, took out some bandages, and wrapped them around his head to cover his bleeding eye. When Volo was done, he laid against Giratina's side, intending to fall asleep. Giratina wrapped in his head and tail and prepared to do the same.

I'm sorry about your eye.

Volo was quiet for a long time before he responded, but he kept a casual tone when he did. "It's quite alright. I didn't expect that the help of a deity would come cheap. And once we meet Arceus, I'm sure that restoring an eye will be the least It can do."

Ha. Can, perhaps, but will It? That I doubt.

"In that case, once we enslave It and use Its powers to recreate the world, making a new eye will be the least of our concerns."

Now that, I can see.

[blackjackkent]

No liveblog today (although I'll be streaming BG3 druid playthrough later), but here's some random character stuff I've been percolating on. I've commented before that none of the companions have really had any in-game commentary about Karlach and Hector finally getting together. But through the power of fic, we can fix that!

-----

Hector is sort of afraid Lae'zel will take it badly. She did, after all, express on more than one occasion an interest in..."tasting" him, and while he's quite sure that was purely in the interests of physical lust and not romance, she is very young, very fiery, and fully capable of sticking her sword through anyone she feels has wronged her.

To his surprise, though, she's remarkably matter-of-fact about it - in her usual blunt way. "Karlach speaks highly of your prowess, she'lak," she says without any warning or preamble, the sharp hiss of her voice melding with the scream of her blade on the whetstone.

Hector blinks, coming to a halt with his hand in one of the camp packs, where he has been fishing around for some of the dried meat they picked up the day before. "Oh," he says, somewhat thrown by this conversational opener. "Does she?"

She lifts the blade from the spinning stone and examines its edge thoughtfully. "The physical discipline of your 'monastery' has prepared you in all ways, it seems. Training worthy of a githyanki creche."

He coughs awkwardly. "I, ah...do my best to make sure she is satisfied, certainly."

"Oh, no doubt." The heavy rasp of her voice is dry as sandpaper, an uncrackable deadpan. It is hard to discern if she speaks from amusement or irritation. "Of course, to study only under one teacher is to see a muted view. Karlach's skills and yours both, I fear, suffer under a lack of practice. Should you wish to...expand your horizons, there is much, I am sure, that I could teach you of bliss."

Heat crawls up his neck to settle around his ears. "I...am well aware of your interest, Lae'zel," he says, his voice cracking just slightly. "But what I have with Karlach is...something rather beyond simple exercise." A pause. He feels oddly embarrassed, but why should he be? "I love her."

"Chk," she mutters, pressing the blade back to the grindstone. "Human sentimentality..."

He's about to turn away when he catches just the slightest hint of a smirk on her face. "Wait." He blinks again, and then grins. "You're messing with me, aren't you?" He didn't know she was capable of it.

"Your perception, as always, is incomparable," she says dryly. "A worm poked to see it squirm is the amusement of children - but an amusement it is, nevertheless."

-----

Wyll is sitting up one night, looking at the shadowlands' endless swirl of shadow in lieu of stars. Hector sits in companionable silence nearby, slowly attuning to a new quarterstaff.

After a little while, the Blade turns slightly to look towards him. "I wanted to say, my friend..." he says softly, "you have seemed quite happy of late. It is good to see."

Hector smiles wryly, absently tossing the staff in his palm in a slow rhythm. "Happy across the board might be a bit of an overstatement, given what we saw in Reithwin..." he says.

"Yes, yes, terrible shadow lands aside, of course," Wyll says with a quiet laugh. "I mean Karlach, of course."

"Ah." Hector's smile softens. "Yes. In that I am very happy indeed."

Wyll nods. "She's right for you, you know. Brings a light to your eyes." He hesitates. "I wasn't right for you, too. I see that now. It was...a momentary madness, the night I asked you to dance."

Hector glances at him sidelong. "You're a good man, Wyll," he says soberly. "I wouldn't hurt you for the world."

"And you didn't," Wyll confirms, squaring his shoulders slightly and rubbing at the base of one horn. "I...was afraid. I felt lost. And you were the only beacon I had to hold onto. I thought that meant something that it didn't - that you felt something that you didn't. But what I needed, truly, was your friendship, while I find out what it means to be me again."

"You'll have that, always," Hector confirms. A slight pause. "What if I asked you to teach me?"

Wyll looks startled. "What could I possibly teach a sage of Selune's archives?"

"Dancing." Hector resists the urge to smile sheepishly, keeping his expression completely earnest. "She...sings, a lot, when she thinks I'm not listening. Wherever that music's coming from...perhaps I should learn to dance to it."

Wyll hesitates a moment, and then his shoulders relax and he grins. "If you can fell those shadows out on that desolate moorland, I imagine you can handle a galliard. We'll see what we can do."

-----

Shadowheart has been very quiet towards Hector since his outburst towards her in the House of Healing. But he sees her watching him and Karlach often in camp, when they sit together by the fire before drifting off to sleep.

For his own part he is also hesitant to make the first overture of reconciliation - he's embarrassed about how he acted but also still angry and it has made for a confusing muddle of emotions. In the end, though, he is indeed the one who speaks first, one night when Karlach (sleeping off a particularly nasty wound) has gone to bed early.

"Need something?" he asks her, not unkindly, catching her eyes on him again through the smoke of the fire as she sits down across from him.

"Just thinking," she says, avoiding his gaze in favor of looking down at the flames. A long, somewhat awkward silence stretches. "How did you know?" she asks abruptly.

He blinks. "How did I know what?"

"That you loved her."

"Oh." He has to think about that for a moment. It came on so gradually. "I'm not sure." His instinct is to be reticent, draw away from the Sharran's questioning...and yet she seems to be asking in good faith, from sincere curiosity. "She told me one day, back in Grymforge, that her engine was getting worse. That it might be the end, if we couldn't find the mechanic. And I realized the world that lay down that path was far too empty for my liking."

She considers this in silence, prods one of the logs deeper into the fire with her boot toe. "I see."

Another long pause. "We don't--" she begins, then stops, tries again. "It's not encouraged."

Hector grunts. "Your Lady's passion for a blank world of shadow leaves little room for such things, I imagine," he says.

She shrugs.

"Well," he adds after a moment, "it wasn't encouraged at the monastery either, to tell true."

"Really?" Her tone is automatically disdainful but her eyes have drifted back to him with sudden focus.

He hesitates. "Where your Lady looks for emptiness, mine looks for...self-reliance," he finally says slowly. "Which is itself...not conducive to..." He trails off. "I have not ever felt this way before."

She studies him through the smoke thoughtfully. "There are many kinds of solitude, aren't there?" she finally murmurs. "And our Ladies truly are sisters after all..."

She frowns, then stands up abruptly. "I'm happy for you, Hector. I am capable of it, you know."

He tilts one eyebrow up, bemused. "I never doubted you were."

She nods sharply. She seems almost as perplexed by her own behavior - and whatever thoughts are going on behind it - as he is. "Good," she says curtly. "Good night."

-----

"There he is, our romantic hero of the hour!" Astarion smirks, expanding his arms like a showman barker on a stage. "Miraculously unsinged and, dare I say it, as unwound as a pocket watch in a mausoleum."

Hector rolls his eyes at the elf, trying to ignore the playful gibes as he moves past Astarion's tent.

Astarion, of course, is the consummate hunter, not so easily shaken loose from his prey. His grin widens teasingly, seeing Hector's discomfiture -- it's not malicious, particularly, but like Lae'zel, he is enjoying seeing the usually buttoned-up monk squirm. "Well, go on, don't leave us in suspense. Was it everything you hoped for? Nothing important burned off?"

"It was lovely," Hector says over his shoulder. "It was also none of your business."

"Oh, darling, everything is my business," Astarion says brightly. "We're all in this together - isn't that what you keep saying? Perhaps next time we should all open up the tadpole lines while you're--"

"Don't even think about it," Hector says, suddenly sharp, turning back towards him fully.

Astarion's head snaps back and he looks slightly startled at the unexpected burst of irritation. "No," he says, more seriously, a flash of the sincerity that Hector can sometimes sense lurking under the surface of his cocky facade. "I wouldn't, of course. Your mind is your own. But you can't begrudge me a little curiosity!"

Hector's expression relaxes. "I can, I do, and I will," he says dryly with the hint of a grin.

"Hmph." The vampire's smirk is fixed back in place, and he gives Hector a lascivious wink. "Well, lucky as Karlach may be, we had our little moment first, you know. Delectable. I think I will count that as a victory for myself."

Hector flushes slightly, involuntarily putting a hand to his neck where the two miniscule puncture scars still sit under his jaw. Astarion laughs. "Don't worry, darling - your secret is safe with me."

-----

"In softest spring climbs light from shadows fall'n,/love's sweet warm bliss arising from the snow/and turning chill wind's touch to light caress/'til all is joy, and fear is long forgotten."

Gale quotes this piece of poetry with a mildly sardonic air, given that he is speaking while clambering his way through a bit of shadow-touched air so thick that even the pixie's light is struggling against it.

"Very pretty," Hector comments. "Something you wrote?"

"Hah. Hardly," Gale grins. "That is from Doreth Halamar's Canticle of Sune - a rather extraordinary work if you have never had occasion to indulge yourself in it. A celebration of love in all its forms, in a series of five volumes; that one, specifically, marks a digression into an extended metaphor regarding the movement of winter into spring, as analagous to the rising of a new love." He purses his lips thoughtfully, squinting into the dimness. "If you ask me, I think Halamar belabors the point about forty-five stanzas too long, but who am I to question the wisdom of such a master craftsman of the written word?"

Hector hides a grin. "And what brought it bubbling up out of your brain just at present? We have not felt further from spring in a long time."

"I have always said, Hector," Gale says, taking on the professorial air that always heralds his more bombastic rhetoric, "that if a man is not provided light, he would do well to remember that which he can muster within himself. Halamar's words are the quintessential reminder of the inevitable truth that the sun will rise again - a reminder more imperative now than ever."

His lips twitch. "That - and you and our tiefling companion are making quite a spectacle of yourself lately, so I thought you might appreciate a bit of artistic commentary."

"Spectacle?" Hector looks amused. "A few kisses hardly counts as spectacle."

"Oh, please." Gale smirks. "If you think your constant glances in her direction are anything even remotely in the neighborhood of subtle, I have a bit of disagreeable news for you."

Hector pauses, turns more fully towards the other man. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were upset with me, Gale," he says, tilting his head questioningly.

"Why?" Gale lifts his eyebrows mock-ingenuously, his smile fading. "Because you have found a tract of happiness in these barren wilds while I, itinerant explosive, wend my way towards a death ordained by the only creature I ever loved? What possible cause could I have for resentment?"

The sarcasm is unexpected, uncharacteristic, and Hector takes a sharp step back as if slapped. Almost immediately, though, Gale frowns, then shakes his head and looks away. "I'm sorry," he goes on. "You...did not deserve that." A slight pause. "I found myself caring for you very much, and after our interlude together in the Weave I thought you might feel the same. It was...a hope of a lonely mind, and one that was misplaced. I hope you will forgive me."

Hector hesitates. "I think perhaps I ought to ask you to forgive me," he says quietly. "There were-- and still are-- many steps along this path that I have not handled as I should have. I was...very confused for quite some time, and very afraid, and perhaps my actions betrayed too much."

Gale looks at him in silence a moment, then glances back down the path where Karlach is just clambering over a fallen log. "We should all be lucky enough to find our way to such certainty one day as you now possess," he says gently. "And for that...my friend...I am truly happy for you."

-----

"Copper for your thoughts, Soldier?" Karlach is half-asleep against him, her head resting on his shoulder against the slant of his chest; her voice is drowsy as her eyes flicker open to see him wide awake and staring at the ceiling of the tent.

"Nothing particular," he says, brushing his fingertips idly through her hair. "I was thinking how lucky I am."

"Mm. Smoothtalker," she mumbles.

"I'm serious," he says, rolling over carefully so he can keep his arm supporting her head while turning to face her.

She comes a little more awake and looks at him curiously, tipping her head forward until their foreheads touch. "What's on your mind, Hec?"

A pause. "We've been through so much. It hardly seems fair that you and I are so happy, amidst it all. I think...we've a lonely little group." He frowns a little. "I hope the others all find someone like you, one day."

"There was a time when I would have taken that as a suggestion to branch out," she says with a yawn. "Luckily, I have my hands full with just you." She chuckles, stretches lazily and snuggles back into his chest. "I told you before - you worry too much, Hec. Maybe they don't have this, not right now - but they en't alone. You've seen to that."

He nods slowly. "Yes. You're right, certainly."

"Course I am." She pokes his chest gently. "Now go to sleep, Soldier. Don't make me knock you out."

"As if you could," he murmurs with a slight smile, letting his eyes drift shut.