#i love the curdle sisters i should draw them more
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i was SO excited at the idea of a third curdle nurse ( because believe it or not given my reputation as a jay enjoyer, i REALLY like the curdle bag sisters ), that- whilst we wait for their debut, i made MY OWN IDEA of what they would be like !!!!!
& my idea is surely! entirely off the mark & strange by all means but this is awful hospital so HERE GOES;
miss miley curdle - if she's not been horribly changed by the current decaying state of the hospital, is the third, " younger " sister to the curdle nurse siblings & currently the only one in a relatively okay state of operation; known as a nurse who... really doesn't want to BE a nurse - but took the job anyway because that's what her sisters were doing - & would much RATHER be living it up between zones, " partying " & having a good time, she administers less-than-reputable treatment to her patients ( usually those injured or sickened by living the life she'd rather have, lo the irony ) & does her job with all the reluctance of a spoiled brat teenager doing the bare minimum of what's asked of her. her sisters have TRIED to coach & better her, but it's been an oil to water type of process & she just refuses to listen & does whatever she wants, usually. however, with the hospital going under & with her sisters nowhere to be found ( as they're currently busy being fused together & spitting out horrible trash babies ), the terrified miley has taken to cleaning her act up & actually taking her job seriously, in the hopes that her feeble attempts at tending to the still-stable patients may somehow save the day & fix whatever's going on... or at least aid in keep things running smoothly. fruitlessly, as though she tries her HARDEST, she's forsaken the majority of what she's been taught, & while she's not necessarily making things horribly Worse....... you know. putting a piece of duct tape on a crumbling ceiling can't fix a whole lot,
so do you guys like my cool soon to be awful hospital oc /silly
#uwu art#bogleech#Awful Hospital#Awful Hospital: Seriously the Worst Ever#Awful Hospital spoilers#question mark?#Miley Curdle#Molly Curdle#Millie Curdle#her existence was revealed to me YESTERDAY & i just EXPLODED#i love the curdle sisters i should draw them more#// ask to tag#unsanitary cw#needles cw#POSTING THIS REAL FAST BECAUSE I GOTTA GO SOMEWHERE OKAY BYE
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Volumes (Amara x OC)
Summary: Chuck wants to do away with humanity, but Amara has grown fond of humans, one in particular, so Chuck will just have to start with her.
Word Count: 1,001
Warnings: Angst, threats of violence
Chuck didnât have to lay a finger on her in order to kill her. Both he and Amara knew that, yet heâd chosen to take her hostage, holding an angel blade across her throat, barring her against him. He could have just snapped his fingers and it all would have been over, but to him this was personal, as if it were some sort of betrayal. Maybe thatâs how he saw it. But thatâs not how Amara saw things.
Lena had been a wake up call to Amara, a light within the darkness she was made of, and lately, her very reason for being. Now it was left to her to save her light before her brother could snuff it out. With Lena as his prisoner, Amara froze, unsure of her next move. Chuck wasnât often entirely ruthless, but he was smart and calculating, so sheâd have to take that into consideration. This wasnât about killing Lena. If it was, sheâd be dead already. What Amara had to figure out was what this was really about for him.
"Let her go," she finally said, her voice rumbling low as she conveyed the threat behind her words. Let her go and this doesnât have to end in blood. Chuck shifted the blade in response, now angling its tip upwards, pointing it directly at her throat. He could run it through and leave Amara to watch her sputter and gurgle her way to a slow death, drowning in her own blood. Part of him wanted to. Heâd love to see his sister fall apart at witnessing the death of her beloved human. Humans were his creation, not hers, and heâd never been one to share.
"Youâd like that, wouldnât you," Chuck finally said. "Humanity is mine, Amara. When it comes to them, I can do anything I want. All you can do is destroy. Thatâs all youâve ever done. And yet you wonder why I locked you away, why I wouldnât let you play with my toys?"
Amara let out a dry laugh. "Humans arenât toys," she argued. Chuck cocked an eyebrow. This was the stance she was going to take? Surely not. But Amara didnât waver. Sheâd meant it. She was ultimate power and destruction personified and yet she cared about life forms far beneath her. "You may have created them, but theyâre not your puppets, Chuck."
The way she had said his chosen name, it stung a little. It was the most human part about him. He wasnât Light, wasnât God, but Chuck, a dreadfully human moniker which had been entirely of his own choosing. She really knew how to rub salt in a wound, but all he wanted was to start fresh, recreate everything in a new image. He couldnât do that if Amara was unwilling to help him. She couldnât have any attachments. And she may hate him for a while, but he had infinite amounts of time on his hands, so what was he waiting for?
He pressed the blade closer to Lena's throat, now pricking her skin and drawing blood, which trailed down her neck. Amara held her ground. Did she not believe heâd do it? Kill her in cold blood? How foolish. She should know him better than that.
Chuck removed the blade from Lena's throat, her hand reflexively going to the small wound to cover it. So delicate, humans. If he wanted Amara to ever forgive him, he better make Lena's death a quick one.
Just as Lena let go of her mounting fear at her own seemingly imminent demise, Chuck moved to deliver his final âfatalâ blow. Lena had barely any time to react. Sheâd only glimpsed the blade as it caught the light. The same one that had been at her throat was now speeding towards her heart. This was it. Lena braced herself for whatever death would bring, but it all came to a halt with a scream.
This was no horror-movie-heroine scream, but something altogether more guttural, a blood curdling noise that in and of itself felt like it had the power to kill. Lena covered her ears, but even that could not drown it out. The mere force of it sent ripples through the air strong enough to actually feel as they made their way past her. It was then she realized this sound, this inhuman warning call, it was coming from Amara.
When it finally ceased, the silence somehow felt more deafening than the scream itself. Lena had fallen to her knees, shaken, but alive. Chuck was gone, the angel blade dropped in the dirt a few inches from Lena. That feral, banshee cry had been her saving grace. However Amara had managed it, Lena found herself eternally thankful.
With the threat gone and the dust settling, Amara ran to Lena, clutching her up in a hug and pulling her to her feet. Lena clung to Amara as she regained her footing, her arms around her waist, her cheek pressed against Amara's chest as she tried to stop the tears from falling. Amara held her tighter with one arm, while she brought her other hand up to Lena's hair, stroking it in a reassuring manner. "I will never let him hurt you," she promised. The calmness in her tone held an underlying ferocity and protectiveness to it that, had Lena not known her better, she would have found frightening.
Finally, Lena let out her tears. Soft sobs were now the only sound in the clearing where the two of them stood and Lena thought for a moment that perhaps this place would forever be silent because of Amara. Maybe that was as it should be. When her tears began to dry, Lena looked up at Amara. "Take me away from here," she said. Amara smiled softly, nodded and kissed the top of Lena's head. In a blink, they were gone, just the supernaturally disturbed land was left behind, a marker of a showdown where love had triumphed over hate.
Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon, @baubeautyandthegeek, @foxesandmagic, @carmens-garden, @fawera, @themaradaniels, @that-demigirl, @iloveocs, @bossyladies
#oc: lena lucas#fc: florence pugh#fd: supernatural#lena x amara#amara#amara spn#amara x oc#supernatural#supernatural oc
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Hi there! This will be my first original post on this side blog I have reserved for Disney Channel related things. So this is just a little drabble I wrote out for this fic idea I have for Zombies. Iâll most likely never write this story in its completion, but I figured it wouldnât hurt to share here.
Feedback is appreciatedđ
She could feel the fear coursing through her bones. She knew Zed. She knew he would never ever hurt her. But this wasnât Zed she was facing. But maybe, just maybe, she could draw the real him out.
Or die trying. She will not leave here without him.
The feral creature was surveying the back wall, as if he was looking for an escape route. She saw him twist his head to the side, sniff the air, and turned toward her scent. The scent of his next meal.
It took everything in her to make herself calm when she called to him. âZed.â
At the sound of his prey, he fully turned his body around, his blood-curdling snarl growing louder. His eyes were so sunken in, so dark around the edges, she could barely make out his brown eyes in the dark. The veins on his arms and neck were so distinct, they looked like someone had taken a black marker and scribbled on his skin. The chains on his wrists clattered as he took a single step forward, almost as if he was giving her a warning.
âZed.â She couldnât stop the tremor in her voice now. She was terrified. Not of him, never of him. She was terrified of losing him. Of losing that sweet boy sheâd known for years now. So scared that if she took one wrong step, said one wrong word, heâd be gone forever. âZed, please.â
He took another step forward, unfazed by her obvious terror. In fact, she wouldnât be surprised if the scent of her fear was fueling his monster side. He bared his teeth and growled louder.
âZed, itâs me. Itâs Addison.â Her tone became the most gentle it had ever been. âYou know me.â
At her inflected voice, the group had noticed she had strayed back to him. Back to the deadly predator their friend had became. Elizaâs eyes widened. âAddison!â
At the sudden harsh noise, Zed roared in anger and lunged at Addison. She was standing just far enough away that the chains yanked him back. She didnât even flinch, but she worried the chains were making him so much worse. She held her hands out to him in a placating manner.
âShh shh, itâs okay. Itâs okay, Zed,â she said softly. Again, she was worried that any sudden movement would cause him to slip further and further away, his zombie consuming everything Zed ever was.
âAddison,â Eliza said again, a little softer this time. âGet back! You canât help him. Heâll hurt you!â
Addison ignored her, her eyes and attention still focused on Zed. âZed. Itâs okay. Just listen to me. Listen to my voice, okay?â
After being yanked by the chains, Zed had sunk to his knees in defeat, but still letting out long, low growls. Even as a monster, Addison could tell he was tired. Tired of fighting or tired of being so furious, she wasnât sure. But she could tell he was in pain and it made her heart hurt for him even more.
âZed,â she started. âWhat happened earlier today. That was not your fault.â
The zombie looked up at her now. He was still snarling at her, but it seemed like he was listening. She continued, âThey made you do it. That was not you.â
His growling seemed to go a little quieter. Every gentle word she spoke seemed to make him understand a little more clearly.
With a surge of bravery, she took one small step forward. When his growls didnât get any louder, she took another one, her hands still outstretched to him.
âI know you Zed,â she asserts. She shook her head. âYou wouldnât hurt anyone. Not on purpose. You wouldnât hurt a fly. Thatâs not you.â
Even with his sharp teeth still bared at her, his low, threatening snarls were barely audible now. The frown on his face seemed more confused than angry now. He looked as if he was trying to peel her apart with his eyes, trying to figure out why this human wasnât running away from him.
âI know you Zed,â she repeated in a whisper. She crouched down on his level and continued to slowly move forward. âYou care so much for the people you love. Like your dad and your sister. Your friends. Me.â Her voice was starting to break, she had to stop and swallow a sob that was threatening to escape her throat.
His small growls were gone now and his face switched from a look of confusion to slight apprehension. He didnât know this girl, but he didnât want her near him. He didnât know why though. He could smell her from here and she smelled delicious. He wanted to rip her apart and savor every bite of her warm flesh.
But...no. She needs to stay away. Somewhere, deep down, something was telling him not to attack.
âThe Zed that I know,â she continued, still speaking so softly to him. âIs loyal. And sweet and kind.â She gave him a small, weak smile. âAnd funny. And heâs brave. So stupidly brave.â
She was now close enough to touch him. She slowly reached out her hand toward him.
He seemed to panic and gave a low threatening growl. He tried to scramble backward but the clattering chains scared him and he looked down at them in a panic. She was coming closer, and didnât know what he should do. Part of him was wanting to lunge at her again and plunge his teeth into her. Another part was wanting to clutch her tight to him and never let go. And another, the loudest part of him, was telling him to get her away. Make her run far, far away from the monster that he was.
âThe Zed that I know,â she still spoke to him. She was still trying to get through to him. She couldnât stop now. Not when sheâs so close. âWould never give up on anything. Once your mind is made up on something, whether it be joining the football team or running for school president, it would take a whole fleet of people to stop you.â
She was smiling, but she could feel her eyes welling up. She loved this zombie boy so much. And it took him almost losing himself for her to realize it. She promised herself that if he made it out of this, she would never take him for granted again.
Addison, who was now close enough to Zed for their knees to be touching, gently placed her hands on either side of his face. Zed stilled at her touch as he was finally forced to look at her. Her eyes were so blue. He knows those eyes...
âThe same Zed,â she paused, tears streaming freely down her face now. âWho saw a broken, lonely girl, and still chose to be with her.â Her lip started quivering with her next words. âEven when I never came close to deserving it. Because thatâs who you are Zed. You never give up.â
Something seemed to finally click in his head. Some distant memories flickered in his zombie brain. His lips pressed against someoneâs forehead. Fingers running through luminescent white hair. A small, pale hand clasped in his, their fingers intertwined. A silhouette in a high school safe room, the human girlâs blonde hair visible in the low light.
No...she didnât have blonde hair. And she wasnât just a human girl. Not to him. She was...
âAddison?â He said in his zombie growl.
She gave him a wide, teary grin. âYes,â she cried. âItâs Addison. And your my Zed. And Iâm yours.â
She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his. And the two stayed there for a long moment, knowing that whatever comes next, no matter how difficult, they would get through it. Together.
Just like they always have.
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Briefly Lovers | Timothee Chalamet
M A S T E R L I S T
smut | vampire au part 1 requested requests info wanna be on my Timmy taglist? click here sorry if it takes me a hot second to write your request, Iâm kinda being flooded with them rn xx thanks for all the love and support guys!
It was harder than he was expecting, almost ten times harder than the last time heâd had to do this. Timothee had settled into his new life easily enough, it was always easy for him to assimilate, heâd sure done it enough times. This time heâd picked a house on the countryside of a small city heâd forgotten the name of. It reminded him of his own childhood home, though he could barely remember anymore. Those memories were locked somewhere deep in his mind, stored away in a lifetime from over 250 years ago. He was no longer that carefree child, throwing seed to the chickens. It doesnât feel like him anymore, now he spent every waking hour resisting his blood lust and now trying to push you from his mind. His chest constricted just at the mere thought of you, and his heart seized if he heard your name fall off a strangers lips. Why did you have to have a name so commonly used? He heard it everywhere. On mens lips that didnât deserve to say it. You awakened something from deep within his heart he had not yet mustered up the courage to face. It was raw, it was wild, it was passion, it was so painfully human. Something he had not been for longer than he could remember.Â
He thought about returning to the man he used to be, to the prowling monster clinging to the darkness that loomed as the sun set. There certainly wasnât a compelling reason to try to reclaim the man he used to be. Timothee never asked for this, he never asked to be turned. He would have rather been left to die in that hospital bed. Timothee knew she thought she was helping him, but dear Susanna was subjecting him to a lifetime of loneliness. All of that melted away when he was in your embrace, and he hated that he could still feel your nails dragging down his back. Your lips against his neck, your arms around him, the warmth you helped blossom in his chest. This sort of emotion was dangerous, it means that Timothee could start to care. The more he cared, the more he lost. Better to have nothing to lose, leaving your enemies with nothing to take away. So Timothee stayed holed up in his new home, far from other people. Far from you.Â
If Timothee thought youâd let him go without a fight then he was sorely mistaken. While it was true that you didnât know exactly how to find him, you were certain you could find a way to bring him to you. Now the plan you were beginning to concoct in your head was 7 flavors of crazy, but youâd fallen in love with a vampire. A vampire. You thought crazy was exactly you needed right now. If keeping you safe is what drove him away, then keeping you safe would also bring him back to you. Right? You chose not to question yourself or talk yourself out of what you were about to do. You couldnât go another second without him, every time you close your eyes you see him. His messy chocolate curls that he managed to tame, those eyes that shined like emeralds, his smooth voice he could use to coax you to orgasm. A shudder ran down your spin upon remembering that wild night you shared, no barriers between your bodies. No hesitation, no sadness, just you and him. Your body craved for that again, and what scared you more was that your heart craved it too.Â
This was crazy, it was beyond crazy. Mainly because of the fact that since Timothee up and left, your Dad has been borderline unhinged in his desperate search for him. He hadnât even attempted to hide the truth of the situation from you or your sister, practically saying it plain. You had no idea how he was going to react to what you were about to say as you descended the stairs. All you knew was that you needed to draw Timothee out, you needed him. When you rounded the corner into the kitchen you saw your Dad where he usually was. Hunched over the counter, with maps and books sprawled out in front of him. âStill looking for the runaway neighbor?â You ask as you move to stand next to him. He groaned, his eyes looking tired but his expression tight and he could do nothing more but nod curtly. You nibbled on your lower lip, the anxiety in your gut beginning to take over as your blood practically curdled in your veins at the level your anxiety had risen to. You straightened your back and reached for the sleeve of your shirt, youâd been practicing this for quite sometime. You wanted it to look perfect, and more than that you wanted it to look convincing.Â
âDad I have something to tell you.â You began, effectively drawing his attention as you rolled up your sleeve. You had sculpted a convincing enough bite on your forearm, using the powers of horror movie makeup and a bottle of fake blood. Your Dad immediately grabbed your arm and yanked it over towards him, a rekindled flame of rage in his eyes. âWas it him?â He asks and your body trembles from the sheer intensity of his voice. You nod, your palms beginning to shake- this might not have been a very good idea. âHe bit you?â Your Dad asks for further clarification, and by now it was unspoken between the two of you that you were aware of vampires. And that you were also aware that your neighbor is one. âYes he bit me, he said he wanted me to be his forever...â You lied, turning your eyes to the tiles of your kitchen floor. Your Dad releases you before turning to a kitchen drawer, yanking it open and searching for something inside it. When he turns around, heâs jamming a needle into your neck.Â
âSorry sweetheart but when the blood lust takes over I wonât be able to trust you. Donât worry- Iâll fix this.â He whispers as the world around you begins to blur. You reach out to grab him, but your movements are sluggish. His arms wrap around you to prevent you from falling as blackness spots at the corners of your eyes. He holds you to his chest when your body has slumped fully against him, and he lifts you into his arms before swiftly carrying you out to his van. He knew leaving the monster across the street unattended to would bite him in the ass, and it did. Except it bit his daughter, in the goddamn arm. Thankfully, as long as you havenât drank human blood- there was still a way to fix this. The bite on your arm looked pretty fresh, and your eyes hadnât turned quite yet so he knows you havenât had your first drink yet. As long as he can get a hold of Timothee, this can still be fixed. He just needs the blood of the vampire who bit you, and then this will all be over. If he couldnât cure you, then heâll do what needs to be done. By then, you wonât be his daughter anymore. Just another monster walking the Earth wearing his daughters face.Â
The contacts your Dad knew spread their ivy vines, probing for information regarding the young handsome vampire whoâd bitten his daughter. The drive to the warehouse just outside town was a longer drive then heâd anticipated but you couldnât be around people. He should have driven a stake through Timotheeâs chest when he first had the chance, itâs time to end this once and for all. Why did you never listen to him? He told you to stay away from Timothee and you disobeyed him, and now this is the position youâre in. His eyes flashed to you through the rear view mirror. Your arms are strapped to the wall of the van, and your ankles are held to the floor. Your head is slumped low and he can only hope you wonât wake before you arrive. When you arrived at the warehouse, you were still- thankfully, asleep. Your Dad lifted you into his arms and brought you to the warehouse, strapping you up inside it and placing a leather strap over your mouth. âWe found him.â A man says approaching your Dadâs right side. Your Dad pulls out a Polaroid camera and snaps a photo of you, handing it to the man. âGive him this, and the address.â He instructs and the other man nods before taking the photo and heading for the exit of the warehouse.
Timothee sat near his fireplace, his stubborn mind once again drifting to you. For the first few weeks his thoughts were purely animalistic, thinking of bending you over the back of his couch. Or on your knees in front of him, dick in your mouth and tears down your cheeks. But now, he thinks of nothing but your smile, how radiant and full of life it is. He thinks of the way you say his name, so soft, so intense, it runs shivers down his back. He thinks of your fingertips trailing down his arms, holding him so tenderly that you almost convinced him that he deserves a happiness like that. Timothee understands a truth that you do not, he understands that monsters like him donât deserve happiness like that. He didnât want to sully your pure heart with the darkness looming in his soul. He leans back in his chair, beginning to be consumed by his thoughts when a pounding on his door draws his attention. Timothee is on his feet, slowly making his way towards his front door but when he swings it open thereâs no one standing there. Out of the corner of his eye, something nailed to his door catches his attention. When he pulls the photo free, his entire world stops. Itâs you, tied up and gagged but itâs whatâs on your arm that constricts his heart the most. You were bit. At the bottom of the photo is an address written in sharpie, and heâs out the door.Â
Your vision is bleary as you slowly open your eyes, flood lights pointed straight at you. The lights blind you, hurting your eyes as you struggle to adjust to it. Behind the lights you see a figure sitting in a chair and when you feel the leather binds holding you to the wall, and the one placed around your mouth you know you made a mistake. Your vision clear enough to see your Dad sitting and observing you carefully, a dangerously detached look in his eyes. âSoon this whole mess will be behind us sweetheart. Timothee is on his way, and as soon as he arrives Iâm going to drive a stake through his heart and drain his body of every drop of blood in his veins.â He says smoothly and tears build in your eyes as panic rises in your chest. You begin to cry out against the leather strap, tears in your eyes as your desperate words come out muffled. You pull and yank your limbs against the restraints, your desperate cries ripping through your throat. Your Dad nods to someone to his left and soon the leather strap is removed from your mouth. You gasp for breath as you continue struggling against the straps. âDad, please donât hurt him! You donât have to hurt him!â You beg, tears staining your cheeks.Â
âI know heâs infected your heart, you think you care for him but itâs not real Y/N. Heâs bitten you, all you feel is loyalty because his blood runs through your veins.â Your Dad explains in an even voice and you pull harder, the straps cutting into your wrists. âI love him! Iâve loved him since the first second I saw him. Please donât hurt him please!â You plead, your eyes begging him as he stands and takes a few careful steps towards you. Your Dad kneels in front of you and brushes tears off your cheeks, âIâll never see him again I promise. Iâll do whatever you ask but please donât hurt him.â You cry, your voice hoarse as you look up at your Dad. He smiles, but the emotion doesnât reach his eyes as he looks down at you. âThis is not love, this is infatuation. Forced blood loyalty. Thatâs all it is, and once heâs dead you will be cured of the weakness in your heart.â He says softly, pressing a kiss to your head before securing the strap around your mouth again. You scream and try to bite at the leather strap as he turns and walks away. A flash of lights flood the room and a smile slides onto your Dadâs face as he reaches for a wooden stake. âHeâs here.â Another man says and your panic sky rockets. You sob, pulling as hard as you can even though you know youâre breaking skin.Â
Everything moves in slow motion as the door to the warehouse open and youâre trying to cry warnings to him through your muffled gag. When Timothee walks in, his eyes are on you before you see a stake driving through the middle of his chest. You scream, your eyes locked on him as you slump against your restrains- sobbing. Blood runs down the stake and wets his shirt as he looks at your father, and you can see the life leaving his eyes. Your Dad walks over to him, grabbing him by the neck before cutting his neck open and draining his blood into a bucket. You feel hollow as your eyes stay fixed on the cement floors of the warehouse, and you just feel numb. You close your eyes to will the tears to stop but they just keep coming. This isnât real, this isnât happening. Your Dad didnât just kill Timothee right in front of you because you pretended to be bit. Oh God this whole thing is your fault, and you choke through your sobs. Suddenly you feel your arm and leg restrains being torn and when you look over, your heart stops.Â
Timothee is crouched beside you, his eyes glancing towards your Father and the other men surrounding what you thought was him. When he pulls your mouth restraint off his palm is over your mouth, âshh.â He says and helps you silently stand. Your eyes stay trained on him, tears steadily flowing down your cheeks as you follow him through the building. You stay in the shadows, following his every step as his hand stays securely wrapped around yours. His eyes flicker to the bite on your arm and his heart breaks in his chest, he didnât want this life for you. Your other hand holds his arm, still not fully believing that this is real, that heâs stood in front of you. Eventually you make it to a side door and slip out into the night where you can breathe as you take a step away from him. âI- I just watched my Dad kill you, how are you..?â Your voice trails off, your heart hammering against your chest as you reach for him. Your hands smooth down his chest and his arms are around your waist. âItâs called astral projection. Something Vampires can do. Not very often, but itâs a useful distraction.â He says, his voice hurried as he grabs your arm- observing the bite.Â
âWho was it? Baby who bit you?â Timothee asks, his hands cradling your face as he looks into your eyes. There is panic in his eyes, and an immeasurable amount of fear behind them as he studies your face. âNobody Tim-â You start but he shakes his head as his hands gently wipe away the drying tears. âI will find whoever did this and I will kill them. Have you drank from anybody yet? I promise baby, Iâll fix this.â He stammers, holding you tightly. You reach your hand towards your arm and begin lifting the makeup, effectively pulling the âbiteâ off your arm. Timothee falters, his eyes studying your arm- no bite anywhere to be seen. âItâs make up Timothee. I just- I needed to see you badly and I didnât know how else to draw you out...â You trail off and he releases you, taking a few steps away from you. There is an unreadable expression on his face as he looks at you, âare you insane? You could have gotten yourself killed! Jesus you could have gotten yourself killed Y/N.â Timothee gasps, running a hand through his curls. Your throat closes in embarrassment as you avoid his gaze. âWhat the hell were you thinking? Have you ever considered that maybe itâs better for you, if Iâm not around? Look at whatâs happened to your life since you met me!â Timothee says, his voice strained as he watches you.Â
âI donât care! I love you.â You exclaim, catching both him and you by surprise. Tears are pushing at the corners of your eyes again as you look up to meet his gaze. âI love you Timothee, I donât care about how dangerous it is I just want to be with you. Please take me with you,â You plead as you take a slow step towards him. He looks up at you, his hands coming up to gently cradle your face again as he presses his forehead to yours. âYouâd choose a life on the run, a life like this...for me?â Timothee asks as your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders. You nod immediately, âyes. I want to be with you.â You whisper, your hands holding him tightly. Timothee pressed his lips against yours, salty tears mixing in as tears rush down both of your cheeks. âI love you, are you sure this is what you want?â Timothee asks, his eyes searching yours as he looks at you. You smile as your fingers tangle in his hair, âI want this- I want you.â You breathe and his hand wraps around yours before pulling you away from the warehouse.Â
When you arrive at his house, your back is immediately pressed against the wall as soon as the door closes. He grinds his hardening cock against you and you gasp. âBaby, if we do this thereâs one condition.â He whispers in your ear, and you nod desperately wanting him to just keep kissing and touching you. âIâll let you come with me, but I will never bite you. Ever.â Timothee says, his voice tight as he looks down at you. Your heart drops, the thought of spending forever with him is far too tempting to pass up. If he wonât bite you, youâll just have to find another Vampire who will. âFine.â You huff, your lips moving to find his again. Timothee hums, satisfied by your answer as his lips press to yours again. Your mouths move together, languid and slow as his hands reach up to pull your lips for firmly against his. You grind your hips against him, needing to soothe the throbbing between your legs. Timothee takes the hint and slides his hand down your front, under your jeans. His fingers find your slick lips and he smiles against you, âsoaked already baby? Youâre so ready for me arenât you?â He asks, his voice low and you nod frantically. His fingers gently toy with your clit, moving too slowly for your liking as he lazily rolls circles over your bundle of nerves. Your hips roll with his movements as you whine against his lips.Â
âPlease Timmy, more.â You plead and you hear him groan under his breath as he takes his hand from your jeans. Before you can protest heâs lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist as his hands hold you up by your ass. Timothee walks you through the house before gently laying you back against his bed. âCouldnât stop thinking about you baby,â Timothee whispers as his fingers hook into the waistband of your jeans. He pulls your jeans down your legs, âcouldnât stop thinking about your perfect little pussy.â He whispers, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. Timothee slides his hands up your bare legs, another groan escaping his mouth when he sees the black thong youâre wearing. âCouldnât stop thinking about how it felt to be inside you, so warm and so goddamn wet.â He breathes, his voice husky as his pupils dilate as he looks at you. Timothee continues pressing kisses up your thigh, pressing one light kiss to your clit over the fabric of your thong before moving to kiss down your other leg. âFuck,â You whine, your hips beginning to wriggle as the heat builds in your stomach. âBut mostly, I couldnât stop thinking about your smile, your laugh. Your beautiful eyes, and I couldnât stop thinking about how fucking much I missed you.â Timothee admits, his eyes looking vulnerable as he looks up at you.Â
Finally his fingers pull your thong down and he groans loudly seeing your pussy glistening for him. âGod, I missed you so much baby.â He whispers, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. He presses his tongue into you then, his fingers rubbing at your clit. Your back arches off the bed as a strangled moan falls from your lips. âFuck baby,â You moan loudly, your fingers winding into his hair to pull him against you more firmly. Timothee continues to push his tongue into you, moaning softly at your taste. Your cries come out more strangled as he continues to wind that coil tighter in your stomach. His cock is pressed against his pants so hard itâs beginning to hurt. No matter how much he jerked himself off, he could never cum. Only you can make him cum. He replaces his fingers with his mouth over your clit as he slides 2 fingers into you. Timothee changes the frantic desperate pace he just had for a much slower one. He very gently and sensually pushes his fingers into you and draws them out slowly, causing you to whine as the pressure in your pelvis builds. âPlease donât stop, please please,â You plead, your voice almost coming out as a cry. Timothee doesnât stop, he keeps his slow languid pace as he gently builds you up until youâre squeezing around his fingers. You cry out as you throw your head to the side, feeling your cum gush around his fingers.Â
Your heart races and your eyes are closed when you feel Timothee slide up your body, his nose brushing against yours. You open your eyes and your arms wrap around his shoulders, âplease baby. Make love to me.â You whisper against his lips and you feel him smile. His hands reach down to push his pants down his legs and off his ankles before heâs lining himself up at your entrance. You spread your thighs wider for him as he presses the head of his cock into you. Your face buries in his neck as Timothee gently slides into you, the warmth and tightness of your pussy overwhelming him as he releases a shaky breath. One of his hands cups your cheek and the other slides under your back as he slowly pulls out of you so that only the tip was inside you before pushing back in. The pace was slow, long deep strokes that reached places inside you that you didnât know existed. Your legs open further for him as he continues so slowly thrust into you, and you feel the heat spreading through your veins like fire. âI love you.â You whisper into his neck and you feel goosebumps spread over his skin as a shiver runs down his back. âSay it again baby,â Timothee groans, his pace increasing a little as your orgasms approach. You look into his eyes, âI love you Timothee,â You say again and he drops his head to your chest- taking a nipple in his mouth. In an instant that coil snaps and you cry out, squeezing around him and effectively sending him over the edge. He cums into you as you cum around his cock.Â
Both of your hearts are racing as he pulls out of you and lays beside you. Your breaths are heaving as he reaches over and pulls you into his chest. âI love you too baby.â Timothee says, his eyes closed as he squeezes you against him. You nuzzle against him, peppering soft kisses across his chest. âYouâre not gonna leave again are you?â You ask as your eyes begin to droop and he presses a kiss to your forehead. âBaby I promise Iâll still be right here when you wake up.â He promises and you relax completely against him, all anxiety leaving your body. You feel sleep beginning to take you as you cuddle into his side more. âI know you donât want me to be turned, but I want to spend forever with you.â You breathe into the silence and you feel his body tense. Fear courses through him as he presses another soft kiss into your hair, âsleep my love. We can talk about this in the morning.â He says and you nod, finally letting sleep take you.Â
***taglist*** @sflowervol6â @90sthemedsunsetsâ @newletasâ
#timothee chalamet smut#timothee chalamet x reader#timothee chalamet#timmy chalamet#timothée chalamet imagine#timmy chalamet imagine#lil timmy tim#au#vampire#vampire au#vampire smut#vampire timothee chalamet#timmy chalamet vampire
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The Last Night Part XI
(Authorâs Notes: Warning! Things will get slightly spicy in this section. No spicer than The Whispering Room scene (donât get too excited), but it is definitely heating up. I missed writing the romance and Iâm excited to be moving back into that-- even if it does end jarringly. Anyway, I hope you all had a lovely fatherâs day! Stay safe. Stay healthy! And thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this: please give it a like, reblog, comment, and hit follow for more updates. Next update will be here Sunday, 6/28)
All the other parts:
Here is Part I
Here is Part II
Here is Part III
Here is Part IV
Here is Part V
Here is Part VI
Here is Part VII
Here is Part VIII
Here is Part IX
Here is Part X
Part XI
Cordelia stood in the center of her room back at her home in London. The walls were still adorned with silver paper, decorated with old Persian artwork that her grandfather had painted himself and given to Sona to decorate their house with to remind her of home. The four poster bed was turned down; a thin white vail hung from each poster. The only light in the room came from the enchanting blue flames that burned in the grate; though, Cordelia could not feel the heat from it and she seemed to be deathly chilled.
She couldnât recall how sheâd arrived there. Come to think of it, she couldnât remember much of anything before and searching for the memories was like hitting a tall, very broad wall whenever she tried. She studied the books on the walls, drawing her index finger along the delicate gold letters stamped into the spines of the leather, but they were all written in a language she couldnât understand. The letters were familiar, but rearranged and jumbled around.
âDaisy?â
Cordelia turned around and her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of James standing in the doorway. He was dressed casually in a white button up collar shirt, black trousers, and navy suspenders over each of his shoulders. The shirt hugged the shape of his arms as he clasped his hands behind his back. The twists of his willful dark curls were pushed back away from his face, but still fell carelessly around his ears and grazed his neck. He smiled at her intake of breath and took a step closer towards her.
âJames,â Cordelia sighed and stepped towards him. âJames, Iâm afraid something terrible has happened. I canât seem to remember how I got here.â
James reached up and brushed a curl that had fallen from her braid back behind her ear. His calloused fingers grazed around the shell of her ear and down her neck sending prickles across her skin. His eyes were nearly solid black with just a circle of gold around the blown iris.
Before she could say anything, James drew her against him. His cheek pressed against hers, the skin already burning where they were connected. His mouth was not gentle, it became possessive and devastating in a way that she had never been kissed before.
Cordelia reached out and slid her hands over his chest so she could feel the rhythm of his heart against her palms.
There was fire everywhere, because he was everywhere. His hands traced her skin, burning it. His lips tasted every inch of her face. The bookshelf slammed into her back, but there was no pain. She couldnât feel anything beside the burning.
Her hands continued to knot in his hair, pulling him towards her as if there were any possible way for them to be closer. With his help, she wrapped her legs around his waist, the wall giving her the leverage that she needed. The sound of fabric ripping was vague in her mind as his tongue twisted with hers, and there was no part of her mind that was not invaded by the insane desire that possessed her.
He pulled his mouth free and pressed his lips to her ear. âCordelia.â It was soft, barely a whisper. âYou must come back to me. Allow me the chance to win your heart properly.â
Cordelia gasped, itâs yours.
She wasnât sure if she just thought the words or if she had said them, but before she could, his mouth captured hers again.
Her hands fisted around the fabric of Jamesâ t-shirt, yanking it up from the hem of his trousers. She could feel the muscles of his stomach under her palms, her hands crushed between them. Jamesâ pulse jumped; his hand slid into her hair, tilting her head back so he could access the fragrant delicate skin of her neck.
Her eyes fluttered closed as his tongue slid over the curve of her jaw.
Somewhere at the surface of her consciousness, she knew this wasnât real. She knew it was only a memory. A way for her mind to torment her. Or maybe this was her judgement day; she was being forced to relive the most sinful moments of her past. If that were true, then the pleasure of the memory vastly outweighed the punishment.
He moved them away from the bookcase, half-carrying her, his mouth never leaving hers. He stumbled across the broad colorful rug, hands and lips frantic as he leaned over her on the bed. Cordelia arched upwards, her elbows supporting some of her weight, as James stepped away to shrug off his suspenders, letting them hang down from his hips.
When he came back to her, he picked up her bare foot and placed it on his shoulder, and began pressing light kisses to the inside of her smooth calf. Cordelia gasped, relishing in the new sensation and also terrified by it. Her empty hands clenched the thick down comforter as his lips traced a line up her inner thigh to her hip and continued over the fabric of her night dress.
All Cordelia could think to do was breath. Her mind felt cloudy as the heat and flames threatened to consume her to a point where it was almost painful. Beads of sweat formed along her brow and pooled in the dip at the base of her throat.
James continued to press sweet, delicate kisses up her stomach, over her breasts, and up her throat.
When he reached her ear, a voice that did not belong to James whispered into her ear. âItâs time to wake up, Miss Carstairs. There is still a need for you yet.â
Cordelia gasped and leaned away from James. His eyes remained wild and dark with desire but the color had changed to silver.
Cordelia screamed.
James grimaced at the sound of Cordeliaâs screams coming from underneath the door. Heâd been pacing the hallway for some time and was now standing outside the door with his forehead pressed against the cold wood listening to the blood curdling cries for help from the room inside. His hands tightened into fists at his sides to keep from reaching for the door handle again. Heâd already failed several times and he didnât want to risk Matthew and Thomas making good on their promise to tie him to a chair and lock him in there indefinitely.
âWhy do you insist on torturing yourself like this?â asked Matthew, who sat across from Thomas on the floor. âWe should all be getting some rest. None of us had any sleep last night and I believe itâs beginning to impair our judgement.â
âGo get some sleep then,â said Thomas without looking up from the spot on the floor that has held his attention for the last fifteen minutes. âNo one is stopping you.â
âTell me again, Thomas,â said Matthew accusatoryly, âwhat are you doing here exactly? Youâre not particularly close to either of the Carstairs and yet you look about as distraught as James.â
âIâm just tired,â said Thomas.
âPrecisely why we should all go get some rest.â Matthew reiterated. âWe canât do anything standing out here with little to no sleep. I suggest a quick hour nap and we reconvene in the game room with some fresh pastries and tea.â
Both James and Thomas looked to Matthew. Before either of them could say anything, the door to the infirmary opened and Brother Zachariah nearly stepped into James.
âMatthew is right,â said Jem and placed a scarred hand on Jamesâ shoulder. âYou should get some rest. Cordelia and Alastair have a long and difficult road ahead of them. There is no saying how long it might be or when the tide might change.â
âSheâs in pain,â said James, his voice broke on the last word. âWhat are they doing to her to make her sound like that? She sounds like sheâs getting worse, not getting better.â
Jem hummed in Jamesâ mind. âShe fractured two of her ribs and punctured a lung that slowly filled with her own blood that was compromised with demon venom from the tail of Diggoron demon. We have no idea how long it has been in her system, but long enough for it to spread throughout her entire body and compromise her heart.â Jem cupped Jamesâ face with a scarred hand. âJames, it is time to start preparing yourselfââ
âJames?â said his motherâs voice from behind him.
He looked over his shoulder to find her out of her night gown now and in a soft Oriental dress with her hair pinned back halfway. Her gloved hand held softly to Sona beside her. Their guest wore white as if she were already in mourning. The thought made James furious, but he put his head down and stepped out from in front of the door.
Sona held a handkerchief to her face. Her large round eyes, so similar to Cordeliaâs, were rimmed with red. She clung to Tessa as if to keep herself straight and if sheâd let go, sheâd fall over instantly like a structure that has had its bottom half completely taken out from underneath it. Sheâd always reminded James somehow of a plastic bird, beautiful and elegant on the outside, but with even the slightest pressure sheâd crumble apart. So unlike Cordelia, who appeared soft on the outside, but could withstand holding the weight of his sister for hours until help came. Who fought through the pain of a broken leg to help James escape his grandfather. Who stood up in front of their cohorts and peers and declared herself ruined to provide him with an albeit. She could not be easily crushed.
Tessa handed Sona to Jem who showed her inside. Before the door slid closed, James caught a quick glimpse of Cordeliaâs hair spilling over the pillow: a shock of red against the white of the linens. Her face and body were hidden by Silent Brothers gathered around her.
âJames,â said Tessa as she slid her hand over his shoulder. âHave you eaten anything? Have you had any rest?â
The door slid closed again just as Sona made it to Cordeliaâs bedside.
âIâm not hungry,â said James and stepped out from underneath his motherâs hand to lean against the wall.
âYou look exhausted.â
âIâm fine.â
There was quiet and for a moment James thought that she had left which seemed so unlike his mother, but then her voice cut through the silence. âMatthew, Thomas,â she said gently, âwhy donât you go to the kitchens and have some pork pies Bridget just made. I wish to speak with my son a moment.â
Matthew helped Thomas to his feet and the two left the hallway quietly.
Tessa came to lean against the wall beside her son. Â It had never bothered James that his mother was perpetually stuck in a certain state that made them appear almost the same age, except for the intelligence behind her gray eyes that showed to the strength of her character. Her hair retained a youthful spring as it threatened to escape from its carefully pinned rolls. Her skin remained flawless without any threat of cracking. For a while, Tessa tried to dress in a manner that she felt made her look older. She went to beauty shops and allowed the artists to paint her face in makeup to appear more aged, and no one said anything to her, because she thought that it made her somehow âfit inâ with the other mothers that had been touched by time. The truth was that James had always thought his mother was the most beautiful first thing in the morning. When her hair would spill down her back and her face pale and not yet painted. When she would smother Lucie and him with kisses without fear of smudging their face with lipstick.
One day, not too long ago, she threw out all of her makeup and changed her wardrobe to dresses that she liked. James wasnât sure what had changed and he never asked, but he was grateful. Even if the snide remarks returned about his mother's appearance from his peers around him. Heâd fight anyone that turned a bad word against his mother. Sheâd never say if someone offended her; sheâd barely bat an eye, but James would fill the Thames with anyone who tried.
âI know you must feel as if this is all my fault,â she said. âMost children hate their parents for normal reasons: they are too strict, theyâre controlling or absent, they wonât buy the latest things. To add to all of those things, you and Lucie must resent us terribly for having children knowing that I am the child of a monster.â
âMam,â James reached out and took her hand. âI donât blame you for this. I donât resent you or Da. You are not Belial. Believe me, you are the farthest thing from him. The only ones that I blame for what happened to Cordelia and Alastair is Belial and myself.â
âYou?â Tessa tightened her grip on Jamesâ hand. âWhat did you do?
James felt the quickening in his chest as the memory of Cordelia standing at the top of the stairs outside of Graceâs bedroom. The way the tears fell from her eyes when she told him how heâd broken a promise to her. A promise heâd intended to keep.
He knew almost immediately what his mother would say if he were to tell her what he had done to make Cordelia flee from the Institute that night. He knew that sheâd try to console him by telling him that it wasnât his fault. He was under the braceletâs curse. He had nothing to feel guilty about. And she would be right.
But he didnât want to feel better. He didnât want to be absolved of his guilt just yet. Because his guilt fueled his anger and his will for Cordelia to live, so that when she did wake up, he could beg her for forgiveness. He could make her see that he wasnât entirely himself that night.
As much as he didnât want to admit it, there was also a level of shame.
So he lied. âI should have gotten to her sooner. I should have been the one to go into the shadow realm, not Lucie. I should have killed Belial when I had the chance. I wonât fail next time.â
Tessa took a deep breath through her nose. âIâll tell you what I told your sister. I donât want you children involved in this anymore. Your father and I will manage it from here. We will conduct a search and find Belial. It is our responsibility, our burden, not yours.â
And as terribly as he wanted to give into the small child within himself and allow his parents to take the anxiety away from him, he knew that he could not. Belial wanted a fight. James would bring him a fight, but this time heâd be prepared to end it.
#The Last Night#jordelia fanfiction#the shadowhunter chronicles#chain of gold#the last hours#cassandra clare#james herondale#Cordelia Carstairs#Matthew Fairchild#tessa gray#lucie herondale#will herondale#thomas lightwood#grace blackthorn#jesse blackthorn#christopher lightwood#anna lightwood#alastair carstairs#jem carstairs#brother zachariah
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and I cough up my lungs (but I leave in my heart)
Summary: Adaine rolls a nat one on her panic attack check after Aelwyn hits her with Tashaâs Hideous Laughter in episode one. Title from Organs by Of Monsters and Men.Â
Something changes when Aelwyn redirects her sisterâs spell back at her. She doesn't know exactly what yet.
Something changes after Aelwyn throws Adaineâs Tashaâs Hideous Laughter back at her. Adaine doubles over, howling with mirth. Aelwynâs lips tug up into a smug smirk. Sheâs about to lord it over her sister, about to talk about irony and good spellcasting and why sheâs the only sister who can hold up the family name. Adaine raises her head, though, and the words die in her throat because--because Adaine is crying.Â
âA--Adaine?â She forces out through suddenly numb lips. âSister?â
Sure, crying doesnât amount to much since Tashaâs Hideous Laughter is uncontrollable for a reason. But her sisterâs eyes are darting around--looking for an exit, Aelwynâs mind supplies--and her pupils contract to pinpoints, the white showing all the way around. Thereâs sweat beading on her forehead. Her hands are trembling, grasping around air.Â
Sheâs seen her sister have panic attacks before. Sheâs never been the reason, though.Â
âAdaine, really, this display is very gauche.â Aelwyn says, groping for levity. She drops the spell with a twitch of her fingertips, the old, familiar sting of guilt snaking up her spine. Adaine will be fine now. The spell is over. Sheâs fine. âI simply must ask you to stop.â
âHah--hah--â Adaine gasps. She tries to take in a great breath as the spell fades, but her chest hitches violently and she clutches at her blazer with both hands, gagging. Her shoulders hunch up around her ears and she half turns from Aelwyn, looking ready to fall. She inhales again but canât seem to force any air past the back of her throat; Aelwyn watches the tendons in her neck begin to stand out as she struggles. Sheâs trembling harder now, like a leaf in a gale of wind and Aelwyn--doesnât know what to do. âAh--I--â
This isnât going to plan. Sheâs supposed to be convincing Adaine to steal the book from Aguefortâs restricted section. Sheâs supposed to be making sure sheâll take the next step on her way to being the elven oracle. Adaine isnât supposed to be having trouble breathing.Â
âI--I canât--â Adaine forces out, just to make Aelwynâs life all the harder. âI--canât--breathe.â
Sheâs curling in on herself, shaking so hard itâs almost like sheâs having a seizure, like sheâs convulsing. Panic attacks arenât usually like this, are they? Adaine usually just looks pale and upset, breathing hard but not like sheâs going to hyperventilate her way to unconsciousness. Hell, their mother had sent her into a second attack right after she failed the entrance exam and she hadnât been this bad. Exhausted and frail looking--sheâs so small, Aelwyn thinks, and tears at herself for it--but not like this.Â
It must be the spell then. But Aelwyn got rid of it! This shouldnât--this couldnât be--but Tashaâs Hideous Laughter, taking away Adaineâs ability to breathe after their fatherâs treatment and on the first day of school? Itâs enough to make even Aelwynâs breath short. Itâs no small wonder it's taken Adaine this long to snap.Â
âI--â She stops. Vitriol is always easier to access these days. It has been for a long time. But Adaine is curling in on herself and, against her better judgement, abjuration magic curls at Aelwynâs fingertips. Instinctively she glances around, searching for something, anything, some outside danger she can hex into oblivion to get rid of this feeling. She has to make this better.
You did this, you did this to her, whispers Aelwynâs mind. She snarls and steps forward. When she raises her hands, Adaine flinches slightly and Aelwynâs stomach drops to the soles of her feet. Why--
Sheâs never seen their parents strike her sister. Sheâs made herself watch what they have done to her, guilt not letting her turn away. Itâs all the penance she can offer--but sheâs never seen anything physical. She would know. She would know.
She tells herself itâs just the fear that comes with the attacks and slows her approach.Â
âAdaine? Adaine, Itâs me. Itâs your sister, Aelwyn. Youâre having a panic attack.â The words feel clunky, too heavy and strange on her tongue. She knows sheâs having a panic attack, you dolt. Obvious, much? âYouâre having a panic attack, okay? But itâs okay, youâre alright. You--â
Youâre the elven oracle, youâre the strongest wizard I know, youâre going to save the world some day, I can tell. Youâre my sister and I never saved you when I should have and now Iâm going to throw everything we ever could have had away because Mother and Father say I have to. I learned abjuration magic for you. I love you.Â
âYouâre alright.â She finishes lamely. âIâm--Iâm right here and Iâm not going anywhere.â Not yet. Her stomach curdles, acid rising in her throat. She swallows it down.Â
Adaine gasps again, but sheâs not curled so tightly into herself anymore. Her chest heaves as she raises her head, wide eyes searching Aelwynâs face. She struggles not to smooth her expression on reflex. Itâs a weird feeling to let her worry crease her brow naturally. âWh--what?â
âIâm right here,â Aelwyn repeats. She feels stupid and bumbling and useless. She raises her hands just a hair. âIâm going to touch you now. I--I should guide your breathing. It will help the attack pass. You can follow me.â
Adaine is still skittish, looking ready to bolt at the first wrong move. Aelwyn telegraphs her movements as much as she can and manages to lay one hand lightly on her sisterâs shoulder. She guides her sisterâs hand to her own chest and lays it over her heartbeat. She mirrors this with her other hand, feels Adaineâs heartbeat fluttering wildly under her palm. Aelwyn suppresses a wince. She hopes her own heart is holding steady. It doesnât feel like it. âListen. You need to breathe normally, Adaine. I heard those videos you looked up--youâve got breathing exercises, yes?â
Even if she doesnât know any, Aelwyn does. Aelwyn spent four hours looking them up after Adaineâs first panic attack. Sheâs had them memorized for years.Â
Adaine nods jerkily and Aelwyn makes herself nod back. Her mouth is filled with cotton. Her ears are ringing. She takes a deep, deep breath, exaggerates as much as she can, and begins to count. In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight. After a few moments, it starts to calm even her, and Aelwynâs eyes become half-lidded. The process is hypnotic and she breathes deliberately rhythmically, trying to push her calm into her sister through touch contact alone. Is there magic for situations like this? Sheâll have to learn it if there is.
âCome along now, sister,â she murmurs on her fourth exhale. âCome along.â
Adaineâs ribs arenât hitching anymore by the sixth exhale. By the eighth, her shoulders are relaxing. By the ninth, her pupils have expanded again and sheâs not clutching at her blazerâs collar like itâs choking her. By the tenth round, she pulls away.
The sense of loss Aelwyn feels is idiotic, and so she chooses to ignore it.
âThanks,â her sister whispers. Aelwyn feels her walls crumble just a bit more and has to bite her lip against the rush of emotions it brings. âEven--I mean, you're the reason it started but. You didnât mean to, so. Thanks.â
At least Adaine feels as awkward as she does. Aelwyn nods stiffly and adjusts her own uniform. Her pride is in tatters but she clings to the scraps. She has work to get done. A sister to manipulate. A dragon to trick. Parents to impress.
Adaine turns her face away and Aelwyn knows sheâs trying to wipe her tears away surreptitiously. She sees anyway. Thereâs a lump in her throat. Even as she lets the words flow from her mouth, as she draws Adaine into the web Goldenhoard and their parents have weaved around her all summer, Aelwyn feels the phantom beat of her sisterâs heart under her fingers. She mentions the book and almost tells Adaine to keep it for herself. As Adaine turns her back and marches away, something broken and cold and long dead in Aelwynâs chest perks its head up and watches her sister leave with--dare she say it--a warm protective feeling growing inside.Â
Something changes when Aelwyn redirects her sisterâs spell back at her. She doesn't know exactly what yet.
#cw: panic attacks#tw: panic attack#panic attacks#panic attack#panic tw#adaine abernant#aelwyn abernant#family feels#family fic#siblings#protective siblings#dysfuntional family#familial abuse#emotional abuse#tw: abuse#implied abuse#hurt/comfort#hurt and comfort#hurt little comfort#fantasy high#fantasy high sophmore year#fantasy high live#dimension 20#dimension 20 live#dimension 20 spoilers#fh#fhl#d20#fantasy high fic#fantasy high fanfic
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newfragile yellows [1062]
"Did you think it would be easy?â Mahanon pauses and corrects himself. "Did you think she would be easy?â
Bull doesnât need Mahanon to clarify what he means.
Loving Ellana isnât easy. It seems easy in the way that a rip tide seems calm. If you arenât vigilant, if you arenât careful, if you aren't constantly looking out for it and monitoring yourself, youâll be caught. And if you're caught youâll drown. Youâll drown looking at the shore, wondering where you went wrong and why you didnât notice until it was too late.
It seems easy and painless and the most natural thing in the world. Ellana doesnât ask for anything you canât give. And when she asks it feels like the most natural thing in the world to respond, yes, anything.
Until now it had been harmless things.
Well. In context.
In context of this -- everything she had ever asked of him before can be considered harmless. Nothing at all. She might as well have asked him for air to breathe or sun to stand in. Compared to this?
Bull has had the privilege of knowing Ellana Lavellan for a few short years. And the honor of loving her even less than that.
He wonders what Ellanaâs love has taken out of Mahanon. Does he feel as hollow and untethered as Bull does without it?
Only a few years of having it and Bull feels drained and empty. An entire lifetime without it stretches ahead of him.
It seems very dramatic for him to be so deeply effected by one personâs death. How many people has he loved and lost forever? How many people has he loved and called kadan died? How many did he strike down himself? How many did he willingly surrender? How many simply walked away?
He is stone. He is marble. He is statue made flesh made mountain made man. He should be used to this sort of loss. He should know how to anticipate the curdling of his guts and the cold ice-water dread that fills the spine. He should know how to take a hit like this.
It is an understatement to say that it hurts.
Hurt is not a word capable of encompassing the future stretching indolently ahead of him, mocking him with uncaring eyes and indifferent fingers.
âDid you think it would ever be this hard?â Bull asks, forcing his throat to become flesh instead of the unyielding stone it wants to be. Doesnât he owe Mahanon this much?
They air of the cellar is cold and damp. The lights of the candles bring no warmth. Gold turns to rust.
Bull wants his mind to trick him into thinking that the white shroud is moving, that underneath it there is a body that draws breath. A body that contains a soul. A body that contains, specifically, the soul of Ellana Lavellan.
But that is already gone. All that survives of her is memory. His, Mahanonâs â the rest of her friends and family. The people sheâs helped save. The people sheâs helped ruin.
Ellana Lavellan no longer exists in this world except as scraps and strands of memory. Tinted and dyed by bias and the wear of time.
He turns his eye to Mahanon, a living record of his sister. The closest Bull will ever find to the record that exists within himself.
Bull wants to ask him â
Would he forgive Solas this?
It was what Ellana had wanted before. What she had asked. And it seemed like such a tall order. Such an incredible thing to ask for.
If they had given into her then, even if it was just the two of them who could do nothing by themselves, would it have changed anything?
Or would her body still be lying on this stone table before them, waiting for burial?
Bull wants to ask, but cannot.
Mahanon would turn the words back onto him and ask it. And Bull would be ashamed to admit his answer â
Yes. He would forgive Solas if it meant Ellana would not be dead right now. He would forgive Solas and clasp his arm and welcome him into his life. If that was what it would take to keep Ellana in this world, he would do it. He would hate it. He would be furious with himself and seethe and probably resent both Solas and Ellana a little. But ultimately he would swallow his pride and his anger and he would do it.
Itâs such a fucking humiliating thing to admit. How weak he is. How vulnerable.
What stupid, stupid things he would do and what foolish depths he would sink to in order to keep Ellana Lavellan alive â too late.
Now, though?
Even if Ellana were to suddenly sit up and breathe and look him in the eye â sitting right there wrapped in her burial shroud â and ask him â
Do you forgive him for this?
He would say no. He cannot.
Even if it would bring Ellana back. The damage has been done.
Bull could never forgive this.
And â
He doesnât know if he could ever forgive Ellana for this, either. It is improper to blame the deceased, the murdered, for being murdered. The guilt lies with the one who did the killing.
But â
Fuck. It could have been prevented. It could have been avoided.
Ellana didnât have to â
Bull closes his eye. He has the rest of his life to think about what Ellana could have done, should have done. He has the rest of his damned life ahead of him to try and puzzle out the thoughts of a dead woman.
But he only has these few moments with her brother in front of him, and her body between them.
He shouldnât spoil this. The anger and the frustration and the guilt and the shame â all of that can be unpacked later. When the wound isnât so fresh.
âEvery time I think she canât become more difficult,â Mahanon says slowly, speaking as if his mouth was full of blood that he desperately doesnât want to spill, âShe has to pull the rug out from under me and shatter the ceiling. And some part of me thinks â well. Now that sheâs dead there can no longer be any more surprises, can there? Is that a cruel thing to think, the Iron Bull?â
Bull traces the shadows that hint at what was once Ellanaâs face, created by the dim candle light and the drape of cloth.
âTake the relief where you can,â Bull replies. âItâs the least you can do.â
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Welcome Back
INVOLVED: Roller Husser, Jennifer Husser, Desna Simms, Polly Marks, & Annalise Zayas LOCATION: D & D Salon; Sarasota, Florida TIME FRAME: - NOTES: Roller comes back to town, scoping out the business nearby the clinic and inadvertently Polly is arrested during his visit.
Roller stepped foot in D & D Nail Salon, which subsequently sat in the same plaza as Suncoast Clinic. He walked into the salon much like he owned it taking a look around at the staff, whistling softly at them. âWho open for a manicure?â he asked them as he stood in the doorway.Â
Jennifer looked up hearing the chime of the door and she smirked seeing her brother-in-law stroll in. She got up from her chair chuckling lightly at the man and said âthis is Bryceâs brotherâ hugging him gently to her side. âWhat are you doinâ here?â she asked amused. âWhen did you get back from Tallahassee?âÂ
Polly turned and smirked as a well muscled man entered the salon. âWell⊠well, we're all open sugar." She commented, the southern charmer accent strong in the red headed woman. Eyes rolling over the man, she laid her hand on the flat of her check swishing her hips softly to invisible music. She moved forward and offered the not so unfamiliar stranger the back of her hand. "I'm Polly. EnchantĂ©." She said, dropping into the perfect curtsey.Â
Desna chuckled as she held her hair back away from her chest, allowing Quiet Ann to spritz her liberally with water. Her laughter melted into a puddle, the moment the mini giant walked in.  Posing ass youngsters, she thought rolling her eyes. There was nothing worse than a white boy who had aspirations of being a rapper. Eh. Rolling back into an upright position, her back arched. Oh lord, she thought picking up a towel. It was worse than she thought. He was a Husser.Â
Quiet Ann lowered the spray bottle, slowly her lip curdling into a perfect scowl. She sized the newcomer up, Versace down. Gym rat. Cock sure. HUSSIER. Je vais devoir tirer sur ce gars dans les couilles. She thought moving back to her station.Â
âJust got back in townâ Roller said, paying Jenn no real attention as he eyed the thick framed woman picking up a towel before him. He walked forward a bit and licked his lips âyou gonâ take care of me baby?â He asked the chocolate skinned woman, smirking all the while.Â
Desna patted her neck then dabbed down deliberately across her chest before drying her hands with the towel. "Sure my station is right here." She said using the towel to point toward her spot. She tossed the towel in the cleaning bag and swayed over to take her seat.Â
âUncle daddy got you working at that clinic already?â Jennifer asked Roller, moving to follow up behind him as he sat down at Desnaâs station.Â
Roller licked his lips slowly as he moved towards the womanâs station. Hearing his sister-in-law he looked back at her as he pulled his pants leg up a bit and sat down in the chair. âYeah, he needed someone with my talents to run the businessâ he said smoothly. He turned to the pretty chocolate thing in front of him and smirked âyâall take cash or credit?â He asked her.
Desna hummed, taking the younger man's hand in her's. She ran her hand over his knuckles, the feel of them confirmed his Hussier lineage. While the massage of his palm proved more unclear. Smooth yet calloused. She grabbed the file, surveying him at his comment. Credit card this nigga was fresh out the joint⊠"We prefer cash and avoiding felonies".
Smirking lightly Jennifer walked past the two and said âthis is Desnaâ gesturing the woman, as she looked at Roller.Â
Roller smirked a little and said âall right Desnaâ in a calm tone. âMind if I call you D?â He asked her curiously.
Desna raised her eyebrows. Holding his hand in her's. "Honey, you can call me whatever you want. As long as you tip big" she said with a roll of her neck. "Okay.."Â
Polly snapped her finger, "oka_ah!" She said rolling her tongue.Â
Jennifer chimed with a âokayâ back to Desna as she sat in her station cleaning up the space.Â
Roller looked at Desna and then to the other women behind her chiming in. âShh shhâ he said slyly, telling the other women to shut up. âA lady âbout her paperâ he said looking back down at Desna âI like thatâ.
Desna rolled her eyes, lips twisted into a pout. She smooth the file over his fingernails filing them down. "So." She said glancing up at the man. "What were you doing in Tallahassee? Is that where you're from?"
Roller watched the woman file his nails before he looked at her. âSelf evaluatingâ he replied back to her slyly. â9 months of self evaluation and isolationâ he said, looking up at Jennifer. âIt was therapeutic.â
Jennifer looked at Roller and chuckled âis that what yâall do in the pen?â She asked him, giving him a knowing look as she moved to place various bottles of nail polish back where they belong.Â
Desna slowed listening then stopped her filing, cackling with amusement. Her chest rose and fell "Is that so?" She said, catching her breath. "Boy you play three much."Â
Roller eyes snapped towards Jennifer âaye, chillâ he said to her knowingly. She was telling too much of his business to the streets right now. He looked over at Desna âa smileâ he commented. âThis is light work, I usually play harder on dates.â
Desna pursed her lips. "On a date?" She resumed her filing, finishing his thumb she places his hand in the soaking bowl. "I thought you were on an isolated retreat." she said sticking out her tongue. Chucking as she started, his other had.Â
âWasâ Roller reminded her âmy mind was freedâ he told her so âso itâs open to wanderâ he explained as his eyes rolled over her mounds and curves again. He sat up a bit checking her out on the other side before he looked back down at her work.Â
Desna nodded her understanding, moving to pick up the cuticle pusher. She laid his hand in the bowl, then retrieved the one that had been soaking. âSo you out here wildin now. Already a working Hussier and living your best life. This explains the party Uncle daddy is throwing tonight.â She said, shaking her ass in the seat. âAfter the morning Iâve had I can wait.âÂ
Polly moved over to her chair bumping Desnaâs shoulder with a bony hip. âOhhh⊠I wasnât sure you were going to go sugar. But I have this new dress from Vera Wang. Iâve been dying to wear.â He squealed both hands going to her chest.Â
Roller chuckled âIâm pretty tamed actuallyâ he corrected her, lying through his teeth. âOh you gone come and shake yo thing huh?â He asked her with a smirk. âGood,â he said with a deep voice. As Polly moved over he looked up at her with a smirk on his face, Vera Wang, sure.
Jennifer chuckled as she moved around the salon freely. Shaking her head a little at Pollyâs comment.Â
Desna stilled her hand, and tried to keep the bitch please look off her face. âI canât wait to see you wearing either poly bird. Or shaking it, girl.â She said swatting the woman on the side.  Head shaking she went back to work on the younger manâs hands. âTame as a barracuda I bet.â Desna quipped, pushing back the cuticles on his ring. The deep rumble of his voice, viberated up through his large hands. Desna thought again how laughable the word tame was in reference to the grown boy in front of her. Giggling, swirling her more than ample hips in the chair again. âIâmma do a little something⊠something.â She winked. âAnd if it's an open bar we might teach the dancers a thing or three.â
Polly smiled warmly down at Desna. With a look of shock, âYou know Vera Wang?â She asked Roller, with a smile. âA man of many interests, I see.â She said moving over to speak with Quiet Ann.Â
âI should be asking you that Pollyâ Roller replied back to her, licking his lips slowly. At her comment he dipped his head hiding his dimples and amusement before he leaned his head back up, playing it cool. He nodded his head slowly. âWe will see,â he said to her.Â
Polly laughed, âRollerâŠâ She said exhaudrating his name. âIt's a fashion designer, silly.âÂ
Desna moved on to trimming his nails. She laid his hand out in front of her, and dug around in the alcohol solution for the clippers. âLove and Hateâ she read from off the knuckles of his fingers. âWhich one hits harder?â She asked, drawing up his right hand to begin the trim.Â
Laying his hand out for her he smirked at Polly nodding his head, duh bitch, swirling in Rollerâs mind. Looking back at Desna he looked at his knuckles âabout the sameâ he said easily âespecially these daysâ he replied.Â
âHe has a mean right hookâ Jennifer tossed out, as she began to file her own nails gently looking them over.Â
âMhmâ Desna hummed, doubting with her entire soul this man loved anything but himself. At Jennâs comment, her head swiveled in her direction and rolled her eyes so hard the socket of her eyes hurt. âShut up!â She said, before laughing loudly again. âNo, no now every tattoo has a story. So..â she said, eyeing her new client, âWas there a reason for these?â She asked, tracing his tattoos with her nails.
Roller looked at Jenn, looking around Desna then back at the woman. âUmâ he said, moving his shoulders from side to side before he said âthe two things that drive and divide the worldâ he shrugged. âDoesnât need an explanation honestly. Whose Dean?â He asked looking into her eyes.Â
Desna clipped his thumb and pointer finger then paused to listen to his explanation. âUntrue. It does need an explanation. Unless your dumb ass that just likes have random shit drawn into your skinâ she levied a searching look, then smiled sweetly. âBut there is some depth to your reason. Youâre not lying But -For a Hussier - I would have thought you would have put love and money. If thatâs not Uncle Daddies montra it should be.â She went back to work snipping down the rest of his nails. âDean is the love of my life.â She said with a moment of hesitation.Â
Roller listened to the woman as she spoke and he continued to watch her face as well. âMoney is good, yeahâ he agreed, leaving off his other thoughts about the topic. âI ainât uncle daddyâ he clarified with her simply. âLucky dude, Dean,â he said, eyeing her tattoo. âMust be a cool dude, you done tattooed his name and shitâ he breathed.Â
âPreach!â Desna chanted, âGive me enough cash and at this point I can buy loveâ She laughed. âNo,â She said, squinting at the man as she moved to his other hand. âI didnât mean any disrespect. And like you and I both know. Money is important. Getting it and keeping it.â As the words came from her mouth, Polly said the words allowed while Quiet Ann mouth along. âI should hope he knows so.â Desna went on after a moment. âLiterally the best man Iâve ever known. Second to none. Giving, takes care of me, and has always been my biggest supporter.âÂ
Jennifer looked to Quiet-Ann and Polly, smirking a little at the thought of Dean. Over the years heâd managed to become someone special to all of them actually.Â
Roller nodded his head at her âitâs coolâ he said ignoring everything else sheâd said âyeah keeping it can be a bitch and a half, I guess thatâs why people shouldnât bank so much on itâ he said. As she explained to him who Dean is he nodded slowly at her âhope he stays that wayâ he said sensibly.Â
âToucheââ Desna said, with a heavy and sober sigh . His words were a fever dream of the rich. âAnd easier said than done for most of us.â She said honestly, picking up the file again she evened out her tips, âHe has been that way for the better part of 20 years. I should be safe.â Â
âTwenty-Years?â Roller questioned âmarry that bitchâ he replied simply. âFuck yâall waitinâ on, God to return?â he asked her.Â
Desna burst out laughing. "Sir, who says I'm not married? She said side-eying him. "No. Dean is my brother. D and D in the shop name stands for us. Desna and Dean." Â
Roller jerked his neck âyour brotherâ he repeated âoh I seeâ he said nodding his head. âDean is your brotherâŠâ he said again. âSo I guess you not marriedâ he said.Â
"Not yet. I don't have time for a husband." Desna said, reviewing her handy work. "Did you want a clear top coat?"
Roller nodded his head at her and said âis the work complete without it?âÂ
Desna placed oil in the palm of her hand and began to massage the man's arms. She needed his forearms lightly, reading the word as she went. "Nope." She said, shaking her head. "Carpe DIEM? What does that mean?"Â
At her question Roller looked at the tattoo and then to her âseize the dayâ he said to her, giving her itâs simplest meaning. His phone buzzed and he looked down before he looked back up at her.Â
Desna reapplied oil to her hands and nodded "okay" She thought, moving over to his free hand. "I like thatâŠ" she finished then laid his hand down and used a cotton ball to go over his fingernails. picking up the bottle of clear top coat she knocked in the palm of her hand before twisting the top off the bottles.
âOh yeahâ Roller said to her as he looked around the place, it wasnât bad but it could have been better. âYou the boss huh?â he asked her.Â
Desna started with his pinky and lovingly began to apply an even coat of polish. She glared up and looked around the shop and the women in it, before going back to her labors. "Yes sir." She sang with a proud smirk. "It's our place. But yes, I'm the boss."Â
Roller around again nodding his head at her as she explained that she in fact owns the stop and that the other women worked for her. Just taking note of that in his own head.Â
Desna worked in silence for a while. Taking care not to get polish on the flesh around his fingertip. "Would you like a pedicure as well."Â Â
âWhy notâ Roller said to her simply âyou kinda good with your handsâ he complimented.Â
Desna grimaced, rolling her eyes. Â "Mhm" she mouthed, finishing his nails. "Quiet Ann, would you set him up for me?"Â Â
Roller looked over at the dyke and he tilted his head, looking back at Desna. He pursed his lips however, it would do he guessed.Â
Quiet Ann flexed her chin towards Desna acknowledging her request. She rose to her feet, returning Rollerâs gaze. Trouble. Was written all over this Eminem what to be. The quicker he was out the shop the more comfortable she would be. Ann unshouldered the bat, resting it by door, then cracked her knuckles. She moved to the pedicure chair, turning on the tap. She would normally do the pedicures herself, but look at the undercarriage of a set of balls wasnât on her to do list for the day. She let the water run over her hands, checking the temperature, then smirked as she threw in two over large handfuls of tavender scented water softener. Hell, he might actually like.Â
âDesna.â Polly sung, a wide smirk on her face, she rubbed her hands together. âI have got something for you. I picked up last night. I saw it and it had your name written all over itâÂ
Desna rose from her station, smoother her hands over her waist, beaconing Roller to follow her over to the pedicure station. She swayed across to the bowl, bending to check the temperature herself. âI hope you like it hot?â She threw back at the man, but for turning to face Polly. âPolly, I don't need anything -â She said matter of fact knowing the wicked ways of her friend. âWhat do you mean it had my name written on it? They havenât started making Desna dollars yet?â
âDesna Dollar, Sug. That will be the day. No.. Itâs an air conditioner for Dean.â She giggled.Â
âOhâŠâ Desna said voice lighting, she moved to Rollerâs side to help him remove his shoes. She went down easily in the stilettos, she wore, undoing his laces. âThank you Polly. Do I even want to ask where you found it?âÂ
Roller followed behind the thicker framed woman, watching her as she assisted in preparation of his pedicure. He looked at the woman who was assigned the job again before he stroked his beard and looked towards the owner and the redhead. As she moved to unlace his shoes he lowered himself in the chair stretching his long legs.Â
âIt just happened to be a gift from one of the seniors I work with.â Polly rang her hands together, eyes shift noticeably under Desnaâs questions.   Â
Desna removed the manâs shoe and sock. The cupped the foot in her hand, rubbing over it lightly then, worked his pant leg up over his well formed calves. She had to give it to the boy. He worked out. Lowering his foot in the water, she chuckled darkly, pivoting on her heels, she glanced over at Polly. âI had it right. I donât want to know.â She interjected, cutting off any further explanation. âThank you, Polly. Dean will love it. You know how hot his room gets at night.â âBe careful your nails are still wet.â She chastised, returning her attention to her client, She patted the side of his leg softly, then repeated the process of removing his foot wear and added his other leg to the water. She went back up to a standing position easily, âShit Polly, you know I have to pick up my car. Where is the air conditioner? Did you need me to pick it up?â She adjusted the arm of Rollerâs chair, laying his arms on the rest, as she inspected his fingers, âmassage?â She asked the over-sized man satisfied he hand messed his nails.Â
Roller watched the attentive way the woman removed his shoes and rolled up his pants and he smirked to himself. He only looked up to Polly when he really started to overhear the conversation they were having with one another. He looked around slowly before he looked back at Polly amused. When Desna asked him if he wanted a massage he said âwhy notâ easily.Â
Polly swatted her hand dismissively at Desna. âSug. Iâll keep at my house until you can get by. âBy the way⊠how much you think itâs going to cost to get your car running- â
Desna smirked, pushing the buttons of the massage chair the man was seated in. âThe magic finger will take good care of you.â The chair came to life, the mechanisms behind the leather cover, moving up the manâs back. âNo-â Desna turned, snapping her sharpened manicured nails at her longtime friend. she turned and snapped her perfectly sculpted nails, âNo- Not today, yesterday or tomorrow. You want to help me Pual? Letâs see how we can get more but in these empty seats.âÂ
Roller smirked at the woman lightly, offering her a head nod as the seat began to do its job. He began to relax a little more as he looked down at the one they called Quiet Ann. He looked back up at the other women as they spoke, intensely listening.Â
Jennifer looked between Polly and Desna, shaking her head a bit as she stood upright from her chair, sitting her nail file down against her station. âCome over hereâ she said, gesturing the women towards the office, before ushering them towards it.Â
Quiet Ann eyes widened with an innocent that seemed real enough to the untrained eye. "What?" She asked a dainty run towards the private office entrances.Â
Desna rolled her eyes and sighed as Jenn stepped in to meditate. She moved over to her station grabbing her bag before swaying into the close space of intersacom. "Jenn what was all that about?" She asked, dropping her bag by the corner of her desk. She picked up the huge pile of past due stamped bills. She riffled through the mail playing her favorite game of who gets paid this week. Settling on the light bill, she dropped the rest and slid into her office chair.Â
âWe canât get people in chairs because of conversations like thatâ Jennifer said to the two women as she sat down in a chair looking out at the nearly empty establishment. She looked at her brother-in-law and said âbesides, I really wanted to say that Rollerâ she smirked looking at Desna then back at her brother-in-law âsees something he wantsâŠâÂ
Quiet Ann entered the office. The insistent ushering hadnât included her directly but when did it ever. She closed the door to the room, with a firm push, then moved over to the blinds, raising them up to better keep an eye on the salon floor. The best idea she ever had. The one way glass let them see out while keeping prying eyes at bay. She thought folding her arms over her chest, she kept her eyes firmly planted on Roller.Â
Desna cackled, clucking her tongue. âPlease- that is a lie from the pits of hell. Most of these heffas love some good gossip.â She said, opening the check book on her desk. She wrote of the check, pausing over the date line as she contemplated putting the wrong date on the check on purpose. She felt more than saw Jenn looking towards her, she pursed her lips and mumbled, âA mix tapeâŠâ Â
Polly moved over to stand beside Quiet Ann. Surveying the new addition to the strip mall. âMhm..â She said with a sly smirk, agreeing with Jenn. âHeâs a big boy Desna⊠A real big boy.â
Jennifer looked at Polly and chuckled âmhm, a real big boyâ she replied back to her. âAnd I am not even going to comment back to that mixtape jabâ she said pointing a perfectly manicured nail at Desna. âWhatâs wrong with roller?â she asked her.Â
Desna groaned, then filled in the correct date. The bill had to be paid, there was no use in dodging it. She cut her eyes at Jenn. âA Hussier through and through. For starters his name is Roller.â She said, shaking his head.Â
Polly folded over laughing. âOh.. Desna. I canât believe you. Itâs the pnk dick. Isnât it.â She said her tone smug.Â
âWhatâs wrong with a pink dick?â Jennifer asked looking over at Polly.Â
Ann dropped her arms, eyes still on the younger man. âShe wants a black dick.â She said, once again having to state the obvious.Â
âWoah .. Woah.â Desna said, waving her hands. âI am right here. I can hear y'all. And donât tell me what kind of dick I want.â She told them, âI just donât have time for thug love wanna be.âÂ
âAs a woman who has experienced a rainbow of pensisesâ she said with a sly chuckle. âAll of them are black once you turn the lights offâ she mused, before she began to laugh.Â
Desna gave Jenn a withering look as she rose to her feet. âThat maybe but I am a business woman. And in the cold light of day. That wanna to be Hussier ainât gonna take me where I wanna go.â She told the girls, eyeing the man suspiciously.Â
âWe could double date,â Jennifer said playfully back to Desna.
âOr we could not.â Desna said back, turning on her friend, as she moved back towards the door.Â
âIâd snuggle to that pink dick, if it got me a gold watch.â Polly told the room, no hint of playfulness in her voice.Â
Desna swat her with the papers in her hand and chuckled as she pulled the office door open.Â
Quiet Ann shook her head. Sighing as she stepped up and lowered the binds. Hiding the one way glass from sight. No one knew about it and she wanted to keep it that way. Â
âPollyâ Jennifer said with a shake of her head as they walked out of the office. She moved back to her station and began to organize to pass time.Â
Roller looked up as the woman returned, shifting in his seat as he looked Desna up and down slowly. He needed her, preferably in his bed but in a perfect world at his side and beckoning call like the other chicks in his life.Â
Polly smirked looking back at Desna as she moved past her. Eye going back to the salon floor she ran directly into the over predatory stare Roller. She chuckled a bit more, licking her lips as she slipped back into her perfect southern accent, âDid you need anything sugar?â She asked Roller looking towards her best friend and boss.Â
Quiet Ann smiled at the womanâs antics as she left the office. She took the Newports from her top pocket, slipping one of the squares between her lips. She was almost to her perch by the door when she caught sight of the 3 black and white cruisers just outside the shop's doors. â5 - 0.â She hissed, pointing at the windows. Â
There was only one person they could be here for. Desna rushed towards the door, eyes widening. She didnât even look back as she barked instructions. âPolly Go!â She yelled, pointing towards the back of the shop. âGet out of here now.â She ordered, only concern heavy in her voice.Â
Pollyâs hand covered her mouth as cold recognition came over her. âIâm sorryâŠâ She said, apologize eyes watering as she looked between the women. Quiet Ann, Jenn, then back to Desna. âIâm so sorry.â
âPolly Go!â Both Desna and Anne screamed trying to get the woman to move.Â
Polly started, and rushed towards the back door. Only she was too late. Two large cops came in the back way. âPolly Marks, you are under arrest.â The biggest of the two cops said, taking the woman by the arm. Polly squirmed and turned futally to go back the other way, Only the cops were coming in the front of the shop by this point, pushing past Desna and Quiet Ann. Hot tears were falling now as a bone deep fear set in.Â
Desna yelled, move towards her friend, âyou donât have to grab her like that. Polly. Donât struggle.â She said, trying to calm the woman. âDonât worry Polly Iâm going to get you out. Okay.â She said, trying to keep the womanâs attention focused on her and not the men pulling her out of the shop. âI promise Polly we are coming to get you.â She promised again, even as they bodily pushed her out of the shop door.Â
Roller looked at some of the items that were displayed near him and he sat a bottle back down before he looked up hearing the words â5-0â leave one of the women. He watched as the officer drug the red hair out of the building and he said âdamnâ with a headshake. âYâall some real gangster up in hereâ a smirk on his face.Â
Desna hand went to the side of her head. How was she going to get Polly out of jail? Was already the most pressing thought on her mind. She swirled back to look at the smirking giant still propped up in the pedicure chair. âShut up!â She hissed, not finding a damn thing funny.Â
Jennifer licked her lips âwhat are we going to do?â she asked her curiously, eyes moving over to Roller and the few other people in the building. âYou and quiet Ann should go..â she suggested âand Iâll stay and run thingsâ she told them. They all couldnât go and leave the shop closed for the day they needed whatever theyâd make.Â
Desna moved towards Jennifer grabbing her hand for support. âI donât know Jenn. âUmmmâ She said, hand going to her forehead. âThey have to set her bond first. Then we can get her out. If I can find the money..â She tossed around her option mentally for a moment, sighed, frowning as she made the only decision she could. Squeezing Jenn hand, she let the woman go and moved off towards her office. âFor right now, Ann, take me to Willy,I need to ask his ass for a favor. Â
Jennifer looked at the woman and nodded âokayâ she told her simply what else could there have been said in the moment. At Desnaâs words she moved before Roller and sat down, she placed a pair of gloves on and looked up at him. âHere, let me get you out of hereâ she breathed as she prepared to complete his pedicure herself.Â
âYou know they ainât let her ass goâ Roller said looking down at Jenn, he relaxed more. âNot off that shit yâall was talking âboutâ he told her in a gruff voice. âDamn I need one of these chairs at homeâ he said looking down at it. âHit me up with you girl thoâ he added looking back down. âLet me take her up out this tied ass shitâ he said gesturing to the building.Â
Jennifer looked up at Roller and she sighed âdo you think I need that right now?â she asked him seriously. She smacked her teeth at him and shook her head âI tried, sheâs not biting. She knows whose family you belong toâ she told him as she began to scrub his feet. âBesides we will be out of this building one day and into another, watchâ she replied.Â
Roller chuckled at that âhard to getâ he said to him as he stroked his beard and leaned his head back. âI like a chaseâ he smirked to himself as he thought about it. âWeâll seeâŠ.âÂ
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GF + OH - Fallen Owls pt.1
Summary:Â What happens when the milf of The Owl House meets the dilf of Gravity Falls? Find out in this multi-chapter crossover fic.
pt.2
~~~~~~~~~~
Episode Placement:
GF = after finale (S3?) OH = between S1E5 and E6 It was late, passed the gremlinsâ bedtime, but it was summer, meaning the term âbedtimeâ had very little meaning unless Stan was tired and needed to make the kids quiet. But as of right now he was content sitting in his old armchair, boxers and undershirt and slippers and all, munching on popcorn with his family, sitting around telling stories. Stan and his twin brother, Ford, had just finished telling Dipper and Mabel more about the sirens they had faced a few months ago. While sailing around the world was a dream come true, it was nice to take a break to spend the summer with the niblings.
Dipper, having just heard how Stan had been charmed by the sirensâ song, chuckled and asked, âSo, did you ever have any luck finding âbabesâ?â Stan rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. âNah, but thereâs always next year.â âYeah, donât worry about it, Grunkle Stan.â Mabel said as she popped some popcorn into her mouth. âYouâll find some pretty girl that is everything you deserve!â Stan, turning red, waved the subject away. âThanks, sweetie, but itâs fine.â Ford, sitting on the dino-skull, elbowed him lightly and teased, âHeâs still heartbroken over Carla McCorckle.â Mabel blew a raspberry. âIf I ever find her Iâm gonna give her a left-hook and break her nose!â Stan laughed and ruffled her hair. âThatâs not necessary, kid. Iâm over her.â âAnd it only took you forty years.â Ford added, earning him a punch on the shoulder. âIâll have you know Iâve been with plenty of gals after Carla!â Stan quipped. âHeck, I was married once when I was traveling the country!â âWait, what?!â The whole room gasped at the same time. Ford blinked like a confused owl. âI⊠I didnât know that.â âMe, neither.â Mabel said and leaned on Stanâs knee. Dipper, meanwhile, was silent, a memory coming to mind. âTruth is Iâve been divorced once and slapped more times than I can remember.â âWhat happened? GASP! Do I have a secret Graunty you never told me about?!â Stan barked a laugh. âHah! No, sorry pumpkin. I was actually married for less than a day. Vegan situation. We reached for the same slot machine handle and it was love at first sight. Marilyn. Had hair like a airline stordis and a neon pink shirt that said âOver thirty and very flirtyâ. Man I was, I was putty in her hands.â Stan said lightly, recalling the most romantic evening he ever had. âYou shouldâve seen the way she threw dice. One time right at my head. Turns out she only married me to distract me while she stole my car and my winnings. I guess her name was fake and, hair was fake. But ya know, the love was real.â Stan added with a casual shrug. âShe was really the one that got away. Like, literally, it was a proper get away. She was chased by cop cars for a mile out of Vegas before ducking out of a door and into a canyon and making off with my loot. Sometimes I still think of her.â The old conman admitted. âThat pale bingo hall skin. That one weirdly sharp tooth.â Stanâs face dropped at the sight of his family and he quickly said, âSorry, Iâm getting nostalgic.â âMore like love-sick.â Dipper teased. âAW!â Mabel squealed. âThatâs so sweet! Maybe youâll find her one day!â Stan laughed and shook his head. âI doubt it, sweetie, but hey. Who needs stealing babes when Iâve got you three, right?â Mabel yawned and stretched her arms over her head. Ford chuckled and stood up, popping his back. âI think you two should head to bed. Itâs getting late and weâre going camping tomorrow, remember?â Mabel gasped happily and stood. âYouâre right!â She hugged both her uncles and wished them goodnight and then walked with her brother up the stairs for the attic, then Ford left to go finish packing, leaving Stan alone. He leaned on his knuckles, elbow on his armchair, and he remembered Marilyn. ~~~~~~~~~~ Mabel was grinning from ear to ear as she skipped ahead on the trail in the woods. âFinally, a real family camping trip!â Grunkle Ford, Dipper, and Grunkle Stan were right behind her, the Pines family heading back to the Mystery Shack after a fun night sleeping under the stars around a campfire. They were all smiling and happy to be reunited for the summer. While some things drastically changed and some things hardly changed at all, the Pines in appearance changed a little since Dipper and Mabel and turned thirteen. Mabel had always been nothing but smiles in the past, but if it was even possible she grinned even more now, proud to show off her braces-free white teeth. She still sported amazing sweaters with colorful headbands and skirts, today wearing a brown skirt and a yellow headband with a light-brown sweater with an owl on it, claiming she wanted to match the woods and her Grunkle Ford; he only proved her point when he blushed. Dipper and Wendy switched hats again when they saw each other when the twins came off the bus, but over his orange t-shirt he wore a green flannel unbuttoned and he matched it with blue jeans. No longer out in the freezing Arctic, Stan left behind his long coat, but he kept his white t-shirt, dark pants, red beanie, and water-proof boots for the hiking trip. Ford, the easily cold twin, still wore red turtleneck and dark pants and boots, but his smile was much more genuine and the crack in his glasses was gone. Grunkle Ford patted his nieceâs shoulder. âIt is nice to have some quality family bonding.â âNext time I say we go fishing.â Stan injected. âNot as many creepy spider-fires or whatever.â âScampfires.â âI still say whatever.â Dipper chuckled and continued to sketch in his pinetree journal, shading in trees of his drawing of the woods. But he was pulled from his pleasant thoughts by his great-uncle. âSeriously, kid, youâre gonna walk into a tree and then Iâm gonna laugh. You need to get your head outta book and see the rest of the world.â âGrunkle Stan, how do you think people shared the world back in your day? You know, when dinosaurs roamed the Earth?â Dipper quipped. âOh, ho! Wise guy, huh?â Stan wrapped an arm around his neck and rubbed his knuckles on the top of his head. âAlright, Poindexter JrâŠâ âNo! No nuggies!â âYes nuggies!â âFord!â Dipper laughed, calling for backup. Mabel, meanwhile, was slowly being pulled away mentally from the touching scene of guys being dudes as the internet would have called it. Distracting her, a tiny brown owl with cute round eyes was hopping. Not just hopping, appearing from behind one oak tree to the neck, but hopping with a sack clamped by the beak. Mabel watched it with wide eyes, hoping for another look, and the second glance she got of it was so brief she didnât know how much faith she should have in her eyes, but it looked like that sack had things like a Cubic Cube, a newspaper, a floppy disk, a basketball, and other items that could be classified as junk. Mabel decided not to wait for another glance at the owl and to go look at it for herself. Mabel wandered off the path animals had made and moved in between trees and bushes quietly. Her brown eyes eventually landed on the little owl and she followed it; the clattering of the owl or itâs determination to finish itâs job must have been the reason why it didnât hear Mabel and try to hide or lose her. The young Pines lady watched, walking farther and farther away from her family, and the owl hopped behind a tree and never emerged. Mabel smiled, thinking she was about to find an owlâs nest in the tree or a stash of human things by the treeâs roots, but when she turned to look behind the tree, she gasped to find a doorway that glowed white. Mabel looked around her for anyone that might have an answer or for any clue as to why this doorway was here, but she was alone. Gravity Falls certainly was where this sort of thing might happen, but that did not guarantee that this was safe. Maybe she should have the guys look at this thing. Mabel turned around, her back to the doorway, to leave, but she saw something above her and took in a sharp breath. Stan had Dipper pinned on the grass now, both of them laughing, with Ford shaking his head and scolding lightly. âStanley, thatâs enough.â âDonât worry, Grunkle Ford, I promise not to break such an old man.â Dipper teased as he lightly fought back, âOld man?!â Stan repeated in pretend offense. They were interrupted by a blood curdling scream that made their hearts drop. Stan immediately got off of his nephew and stared ahead, terrified. âMabelâŠâ And he ran for the direction he heard the scream with Ford and Dipper at his heels. Mabel pulled her grappling hook out of her hiking-backpack and tried to calm down, but it was hard to with the dangerous anomaly liking itâs chops at the sight of her. It was like a gray lizard, but ten feet long, including the tail, and only on itâs four legs it was seven feet tall. Itâs eyes were red and narrow and cold, and it had long sharp claws like a dragonâs and a long snout like a crocodile. Mabel shot her grappling hook at the monster and it hit it on the snout, tossing its head back. The lizard hissed but did not back down. It advanced, getting closer to Mabel, and she wanted to back away, but she was careful not to touch the spooky doorway. Stan saw the scene first, appearing out of the corner of Mabelâs eye. âMabel!â âGrunkle Stan, what do I do?!â She asked, her eyes glued to the giant lizard. Ford and Dipper caught up. The younger moved to jump between his sister and the monster, but Ford stopped him with a firm six-fingered hand. âNo! Listen to me, Mabel. That thing is called a Stone-Reptilian. They're excellent at camouflaging into mountains and can hang onto a one-hundred-and-eighty degree wall for hours, waiting for its prey. It actually has two tongues: one for licking its eyes since it doesn't have eyelids, and one for paralyzing itâs dinner and dragging the meal into its mouth.â âSo what do I do?!â Mabel begged, shaking a little at the idea of being paralyzed and then eaten alive. âMabel, stay calm, itâs alright.â Ford soothed with a voice as soft as silk. âStone-Reptilians have excellent eyesight, but theyâre deaf. Notice how itâs isnât reacting to us. Now, I want you toâŠâ The Stone-Reptilian suddenly whipped out itâs long, thorn-covered tongue to paralyze Mabel, but she was too quick and leaped through the doorway to survive. As she did, it disappeared, and the Pines men were left to scream and then fight for their own lives. ~~~~~~~~~~ âWhoops, canât have another stowaway, can I?â A voice said, and then before Mabel knew it, her way back home was gone. She observed her new surroundings. Misfit things like a refrigerator, a grandfather clock, an old mattress, and cardboard boxes full of items cluttered what looked like a big tent, judging by the cloth walls and such. Mabel smiled with wonder at the things. âWow. What a collection.â She whispered. Her eyes landed on a small glass ballerina on top of a music box. She turned the ballerina around with a finger to catch a few music notes. Mabel smiled, but was once again distracted. âRight, letâs see here⊠Nope. Garbage. Garbage. Another one of these? Oh, well. Good thing the potions have been selling. I should really thank Luz for helping me take out that competitor. Or not.â Mabel covered her mouth with both hands to keep from snorting; that sounded like something her Grunkle Stan would say. Her heart sagged a little and she turned to look back at where the magical doorway once was. Despite what he might pretend, Mabel knew Stan would be really worried about her. She needed to find a way back home. She crawled on her hands and knees out from under the tent and then got up to explore. âOkay, letâs seeâŠâ Mabel looked around to find herself outside in the open air. She raised an eyebrow. âThe⊠Crawlspace? I thought it was underground? Maybe thereâs more to it! Wonât Grunkle Ford be surprised!â Mabel cheered and looked around for anything familiar, but the longer she looked, the more she realized nothing was like back in Gravity Falls. She stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking an odd city of some kind. Giant monster hands with no body stood like trees. Smoke rose from chimneys of medieval-looking houses. A small herd of cat-sized dragons flocked by the clouds. A mammoth roared like a lion and then walked into the ocean. Something resembling an orange nun was selling bags of oozing red stuff to tiny red monsters with teeth and fangs for a face. People were riding a giant caterpillar from inside its mouth and then kissing it for a toll. Mabelâs heart was racing from excitement and fear. Nothing here was familiar, but she was familiar with the unfamiliar. She grasped the straps of her backpack and took a deep breath. âOkay, Mabel, youâve obviously discovered another rift and came to another dimension. Just remember what your grunkles taught you. Donât touch this dimension's version of yourself or everything will explode. I just gotta live long enough for them to find me. Easy.â Her stomach suddenly growled. Mabel clenched her stomach on reflex, but then remembered her bag of marshmallows, pulled them out, and began to munch on her fluffy sugar pillows. She turned around and walked away from the tent she had left, saw she was in some sort of market, and walked down the street to explore calmly. ~~~~~~~~~~ âAnd remember to apply it twice a day for the best results.â Luz said friendly to a blue monster made out of goo as she handed her the small bag of dust and the customer closed the door on the human. Luz wiped her sweaty forehead with her wrist and groaned. âMan, itâs so hot today. Ready to head home, King? King?â She looked down to find that the king of demons had found the perfect spot on the porch to nap in the sunshine. Luz smiled, scratched his back, and scooped him up one-armed while her other hand carried the empty sack. âEh?â King woke up, angry and cute. âLuz! I was having the perfect dream!â âAbout what?â âWhat could be more perfect than sleeping?!â âYou were dreaming about sleeping?â Luz clarified with a confused smile. âDonât you?â Luz snorted a laugh and walked through Bonesburrow. Compared to the rest of the Boiling Isles, the apprentice had learned that this was the quietest neck of the woods. Kingâs nose caught a delightful scent, but the demon was unsure if he should believe it. He sat up in Luzâs arm and smelled the air. âWhat is it?â Luz asked. âHm, itâs sweet. Really sweet.â King commented and shivered. âLike, really sweet. So sweet itâll put anyone in a sugar-induced coma.â âWell, why donât we just go home and we can have some of Edaâs strawberry jelly instead.â Luz suggested as they turned a corner. She immediately saw the one really really weird thing in the Boiling Isles, apart from her. Another human. After being away from home for about three weeks, Luz didnât think she would be so happy to see another human girl or see human food that wasnât red, but here she was, eyes sparkling with happy tears over the sight. Mabelâs eye eventually landed on Luz and the two stared at each other, a good twenty feet away from each other. After a few moments, however, they both shouted, âANOTHER HUMAN!â And ran towards each other, King clinging onto Luzâs arms in order not to fall. âWait,â The brunette said and looked worried. âIs this your first time seeing another human here? How long have you been trapped here?!â She apparently had drawn the conclusion that there was no way out of this place. âOh, no,â The Latino smiled and shook her head. âIâm not trapped here; I can leave whenever I want, I just choose not to.â âOh. Cool! Hi! Iâm Mabel!â âHi, Mabel.â Luz greeted. âIâm Luz! So⊠how did you get here?â Mabelâs face dropped a little and she looked around. âYou know, Iâm not really sure. One minute I was camping with my family and the next Iâm falling through a door that disappears and takes me here.â Luz giggled and shook her head. âYou must have fallen through Edaâs door. Donât worry, I can get you back home.â âYou can?!â Mabel hugged her tightly, squishing King in between the two girls. âThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU!â Luz, who was quite the hugger but lived with two hug-haters, grinned and relished in the hug, until a high-voice yelled, âAH! What is with you humans and this tight holding ritual?!â Mabelâs eyes got wide and she jumped away, looking around wildly; that voice sounded too familiar for comfort, but when she saw the king of demons, she gasped with a huge grin and shining eyes. âOH MY GOSH! How cute!!!â She squealed. âThanks.â Luz giggled and rubbed his belly. âThis is the King of Demons.â âThis little bundle of joy?â Mabel asked, happily smoothing over his skull and scratching his back. âThatâs what I said!â âHey, hey, easy with the merchandise!â King complained. âWhat makes you think you can⊠oh! Oh! Right there, yup, right there.â Mabel had found the right scratching spot, just between his shoulder-blades, and King relaxed in Luzâs arms, almost asleep he was so comfortable. Mabel giggled and asked, âSo, how can you get me back to my family?â Luz gave it a momentâs thought and said, âWell, I guess we could take you to Eda and have her send you home, but sheâll be going home soon and itâs kindaâŠâ The girls screamed as a huge guard jumped in front of them. He glared down at the humans and said, âHuman previously associated with Eda the Owl Lady, youâre hereby under arrest!â âNot today, sucka!â Luz yelled, threw down one of Edaâs smoke bombs, and grabbed Mabelâs wrist. âCome on! I know where to go!â âCrazy monsters, criminals, smoke bombs, demons⊠I LOVE IT HERE!â Mabel cheered as she was fleeing with her new friends. ~~~~~~~~~~ Stan huffed, catching his breath, with his hands on his knees. Ford helped Dipper up cautiously, scanning him over for broken bones from when the monster swung his tail at the boy and slammed him against a tree, but apart from being shaken up, he was fine. Now that the Stone-Reptilian was gone, the Pines men were free to worry about the most important thing in their whole world. âMABEL?!â Stan screamed and looked around wildly for the rift that took her away. âMABEL! MABEL, SWEETIE!â âMabel!â Ford called out. âMabel, can you hear us?!â âMABEL! MABEL!â Stan screamed and ignored his stinging eyes. Dipperâs own brown eyes were aching, too, but he refused to be seen as weak and he powered through. âDid⊠did that thing⊠g-g-get her?â âNo.â Ford said firmly. âI saw it. She fell through⊠some sort of door, or a rift.â âA-A door?â âIt was rectangular like one, but it was hard to tell.â âThe Crawlspace!â Dipper gasped and slapped his forehead. âDonât the entrances change randomly through Gravity Falls? What if she fell through and is down at the black market?â âWhat, you mean sheâs probably surrounded by dangerous monsters in some freaky market?â Stan asked. âItâs a likely possibility.â Ford speculated, holding his cleft chin. âScour the area. If it was an entrance to the Crawlspace, one will show up again soon.â The three men split up, relatively close, and searched for an anomaly. Maybe a hole in a tree or in the ground, what might have been passed as a birdâs nest or a groundhogâs home could actually be an entrance. Stan was checking some bushes when he thought he heard a strange noise and he looked ahead. A rectangular white light appeared on an oak tree and soon an owl with an empty sack in its beak hopped out. Stan gasped and thought that this was the doorway that took his little girl. Ford saw his twin run out of the corner of his eye and then disappear through the hole. âStanley, wait!â He called and ran towards him, disappearing, too. Then the doorway was gone. Dipper looked around nervously. âHello? Guys?â He paused, letting it sink in that, once again, he was alone. âI swear if sheâs at MAB3L againâŠâ ~~~~~~~~~~ Stan had stopped. Ford then accidently ran into him and they both fell forward. âSixer, get off!â âShh!â Ford slapped a polydactyl hand over his brotherâs mouth, which made him grumble, but before Stan could lick his hand in response, he heard what Ford was hearing. âIâll give you fifty snails for the whole lot.â A laugh-filled snort followed. âItâs seventy-five, kid. Take it or leave it.â That voice⊠something was familiar about that laugh. There was grumbling and what sounded like items being collected. Stan and Ford exchanged looks and slowly got up. After looking around the tent, they peered out of the crack in the curtains to see an odd market. They awed at the sight of dozens of weird creatures. One looked like a turquoise hairless-cat. One looked like a pig with green eyes and it breathed fire on a piece of meat on a stick to cook it for a snack. A kid with pointy ears dropped a basket full of eyeballs and scrambled to pick them up. Ford grinned excitedly like a dork while Stan winced at the sight of an ice-cream eating a customer. Stan glanced to his left and he had to hold his breath to keep from gasping and blowing their cover. Wearing a tight-fitted, torn maroon dress and matching boots, gold on her chest and ears and fingers and a sharp tooth, her eyes sparkling like gold coins, a woman with big gray hair and pointy ears leaned against a table full human things and flicked through a Gold Chains for Old Men magazine with a skeptical look on her face. Stan was nearly as pale as she was when she snorted another laugh and flipped a page. âHah! Not a bad read. Better than that kindling Luz keeps around.â She mumbled and made herself comfortable in her chair, waiting for another customer, one leg crossed over the other and she lightly kicked it as she read. Stan swallowed. There was no way. No possible way⊠then again, given everything weird thatâs happened to him, from freaky portal, to demon triangles, to gnomes and unicorns and sirens and krakens, even to a full-blown Weirdmageddon, should he really be all that surprised that faith would bite him in the butt like this? Ford glanced down at his twin and found he could read him like an open book. âStanleyâŠâ He hissed. The lady straightened in her seat and looked up from the magazine, listening. Now it was Stanâs turn to cover Fordâs mouth. They were still, waiting for the ady to find them, but she shrugged casually and continued to read. The men backed away, out of sight, and were each on one knee, facing each other, as they whispered. âSixer, where the heck are we? The Crawlspace?â âIâm not sure.â Ford hissed. âI have never seen these types of anomalies before. I suppose itâs possible they hide here during the day and I had never seen them at night, but⊠this place feels off. To summarize, I have a feeling weâre not in Kansas anymore.â âFine, but when what do we do about Mabel?â âOur objection is still the same. Letâs just keep a low profile and try to find her.â The twins froze when the curtain was thrown open and the lady stood before them. She immediately sneered down at them. âIf you amateur pickpockets think you canâŠâ But then she stopped, for several reasons. One: these creatures were clearly old, about her age, and so unless they had a sudden career change, they were not amateurs. Two: as a human expert and a teacher and hostess of a human, she instantly recognized these two big-eared creatures as humans. Three: something about the one in the white shirt and red hat was very familiar. âNo⊠wayâŠâ She narrowed her golden eyes. Stan was now confident that his memory wasnât flawed; the way she reacted to seeing him, recognizing him, confirmed that he knew her. Before he could do anything, she grabbed each twin by the ear and pinched; they were at her mercy and receiving flashbacks from when their mother was angry with them. âYou two got some explaining to do.â The lady sneered. âGah! Let us go, crazy old bat!â Stan barked as she dragged them out from the tent and made them sit on barrels for stools. âWho are you calling old, human?â The lady sneered and crossed her arms over her chest. âJust tell me what you think youâre doing here.â âBegging your pardon on our introduction,â Ford said coldly, but then softened as he and his brother did have an important mission. âBut our grandniece is missing. We believe she came through here.â And he pulled out a picture of Mabel hugging a stuffed-penguin from his wallet and showed it to her. The lady peered down at the photo and said, âSorry, old-timers, I havenât seen anyone like that around here.â âNow, how can we trust you, Marilyn.â Stan sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. Fordâs eyes widened as he pocketed his picture. He was rendered speechless for a moment. âOh, like youâre one to talk about honesty, Stan.â She deride. âYou two know each other?!â Ford gasped, looking from his brother to the stranger rapidly like a game of tennis. âSheâs your ex-wife?!â The lady snorted a laugh and sighed happily. âAh, good times, huh?â âNot really.â Stan sneered and stood. âYou still owe me five hundred bucks!â âAt least you got your car back, Grumpy.â The lady teased and patted his cheek; he swatted her hand away in response and growled like an angry pitbull. âIf you want my help finding your girl then play nice.â âSo, you honestly didnât see her.â Stan repeated with a raised eyebrow. âHey, I may be a conwoman, a pickpocket, and the most powerful witch youâll ever meet, but I wouldnât lie if it was gonna endanger some kid.â The lady snapped her fingers and all of the human collectibles floated and gathered into a green cloth, tied up like a hoboâs luggage. She pulled out a staff and put the bag through it, making it easy to carry. Eda whistled and the little owl flew to her and landed on her staff and turned into wood. âCome along, humans, weâll find your niece and get you two home.â Ford followed the lady and decided to be the âniceâ one since Stan was obviously too salty to be one; someone had to be nice to the lady that was going to help them find Mabel. âThank you, Marilyn.â âOh, right. Thatâs not my real nameâŠâ âKnew it.â â... youâre a fool to give your real name to a casino in Vegas. Itâs Edalyn, but just call me Eda. Or your worst nightmare.â âWhatever you say, toots.â Stan growled as they walked down the street. âSo, Eda,â Ford cut in to try to cut the tension between the two. âWhat exactly is this place, and what are you?â Eda stopped suddenly and turned around, wearing a proud grin. She stabbed her staff on the ground with a small bang, making the owl come to life, the sack hanging by her fist, and she proclaimed, âI am known as the Owl Lady, the most powerful witch here on the Boiling Isles!â âA witch?â Stan laughed. âMore like a bâŠâ âI am a feared, respected, vigorous force to be reckoned with!â Eda went on and let go of the staff so it floated like a witchâs broomstick. âCome on, old-timers, letâs get a birdâs eye-view to find your girl.â They each grabbed the staff when Eda sat upon it and yelled with fear as she had them fly up in the air, leaving the old twins to dangle in the air. âGAAAAAAAH!â âEDA!â Stan yelled. âPut us down!â âThat can be arranged.â Eda said cunningly and swooped down quickly. With the air drying Edaâs eyes and forming tears and the brother holding onto the staff (and each other) for dear life, all three were yelling, one with delight, two with fright. âSTANLEY!â Ford shouted. âPLEASE try not to piss off your ex-wife!â Eda laughed and at the very last second, right before the men would crash into the ground, she flew them up into the sky. âAh, donât worry, I wonât let you two knuckleheads get hurt.â They flew softer and calmer above the Boiling Isles and the humans awed at the scene. In the carcass of a monster, by the sea, the Bones of the Isles sat snug in the midst of chaos. Eda floated to allow the men a moment to take in the scenery, smiling down at their round brown eyes. âItâs beautiful.â Ford admired. âYup, not too shabby.â Eda commented casually. âItâs not much, but itâs home.â âWe know what thatâs like.â Stan muttered. âSpeaking of which,â Eda said casually. âWhere did you two say you were from?â âWe didnât. Gravity Falls, Oregon.â Ford answered, keeping an eye out for Mabel. âOh, Iâve heard rumors about that place.â Eda said as she flew calmly over the town. âMy door has a bad habit of appearing there way too often. I need more variety in my human collectibles.â âSo, you steal our junk and try to sell it for a great price?â Stan asked; he sounded a little impressed. âThat and I sell potions on the weekdays. When Iâm not mentoring my student. Enough chit-chat, see your girl down there?â The men took a few more minutes to look, as well as Eda, but there was no sign of her. âNo.â Fordâs voice dripped with concern. âEda, what are the chances she was kidnapped or hurt?â âOh, that probably didnât happen to her.â The witch said calmly. âIf sheâs not safe she probably got eaten or taken by Warden Wrath.â âWHAT?!â âRelax, Sixer,â Stan said, confident in his pumpkin. âSheâs our little fighter, sheâll be fine.â Eda snorted. âSixer?â âItâs Stanford, actually.â His face was a little red over the fact that he couldnât hide his six-fingered hands, too busy holding the magic staff to keep from falling. âMeh, Iâve seen weirder.â Eda looked like she truly didnât care how many fingers he had; Ford appreciated that. âWell, Iâve got a great tracker at home.â The Owl Lady said and started to fly towards the red forest. âWhy donât we go pick him up and see if he can help us out. Got anything the girl held?â âYes,â When the men landed on their feet and Eda hopped next to them, Ford pulled out his wallet again and took out a folded-up, hand-drawn picture of Stan and Ford on a boat, a gift from Mabel while they were apart that she had mailed to them. âAw, thatâs so cute.â The witch cooed. âWho knew all Pines men were putty in girlsâ hands.â She laughed at her own joke and shook her head. âAh, keep moving, boys.â Stan hurried to catch up and he walked next to Eda with narrow eyes, ignoring the way her odd golden fang sparkled, how her eyes gleamed with spunk, how she held herself up high with pride. âSo, youâre gonna answer some questions for meâŠâ âMaybe I will, maybe I wonât.â âIf youâre a witch, what were you doing in Las Vegas?â âHey, a witchâs gotta make some gold, too.â Eda shrugged as she smiled. âI havenât exactly kept a clean record here so making a living takes a bit of extra effort, but itâs much for fun and unpredictable, the way life's supposed to be.â Stan raised an eyebrow at two things: the fact his ex was a criminal in this world too, and her philosophy. âI can respect that, seeing how I was there for the same reasons.â âI know.â Eda rolled her eyes teasingly. âYou wouldnât shut up about how you were gonna make it big and show the world what this big lug could do.â And she elbowed Stan, which he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. âHeh. Yeah, what can I say, Iâm a real loud-mouth. Say whatâs on my mind.â âHey, nothing wrong with being brutally honest to make up for lying, am I right?â Eda said with a shrug. âSo, was your hair fake back then, orâŠâ âNo, no, it was real. I was really proud of my hair back in the day, flaming red and wild.â âLooks pretty good now. Love it, in fact. Big and bold, hard to miss.â âHey, you aged pretty well yourself, handsome.â Ford smiled as he watched the exes tease and pick on each other. If a compliment was given, it dripped with sarcasm and there was no guarantee that it was sincere, but they must have seen a gleam in their eyes or felt a âvibeâ that Ford didnât experience, because the conversation progressed well as they walked through the forest. Ford was happy to see Stan get along fairly well with this woman and wondered if this would go exceptionally better than the whole McCorkle incident. They emerged from the woods and found a large house standing by some cliffs leading to an ocean. It was about as far from the seas as Pines Pawns was all those years ago. The house was big, maybe bigger than the Mystery Shack (probably not if counting the basement-floors) with a big stain-glass window that reminded Stan of a catâs eye and Ford of Billâs eye, but then they both individually remembered Edaâs title and realized it was probably representing an owlâs eye. A weather-vane with an owl sat on top of the house, a broken-down tower stood behind, and an owlâs head was on the door. The humans were startled, but they quickly recovered, again having experienced much weirder than a live owl-head on a door. âGirl knows how to keep a theme going.â Stan commented as they approached. âOh, boy!â The owl on the door hooted. âMore company! Maybe they wanna hear some of my stories!â âNot a chance, Hooty.â Eda quipped. âIs King still home? We need his help, and we might want Luzâs too while weâre at it.â âTheyâre both telling stories to that new human. The one with the pretty owl sweater.â âWait, what?!â The three old people asked and Hooty swung open the door. Luz was holding King on her lap on the couch, sitting with Mabel as all three were laughing. Even King was rolling around and holding his little fluffy body with glee. Mabelâs back was to the door and she resumed her storytelling as she wiped a tear under her eye. âSo then I look down at Dipper and see that heâs still got his socks on!â Luz cackled a laugh and held her head one-handed, her other arm still holding King, but it was to no avail as the demon fell off from all the laughing. Eda, Ford, and Stan smiled as the girls were having fun. They had no idea how they found each other, but it was better for them to be here, safe and happy, than to have the newbie be someoneâs meal. Luz fanned her reddening face and finally noticed the company. âHi, Eda. Sorry, but she was lost and needs our help.â Mabel turned, on her knees on the couch, but grinned with a gasp. âGUYS!â And she hopped over the arm of the couch for her grunkles. âMabel!â They opened their arms and got on one knee for their girl. Mabel ran into their hold and they hugged her tightly, relieved to be with her again and to find her more than okay. âWhat did I tell you about scaring me like that, pumpkin?!â Stan asked as he held her with all of his might. âYou didnât tell me, Grunkle Stan.â âOh, right.â âWeâre just so happy to find you alright, my dear.â Ford loosened his grip just enough to look up at Luz, who was smiling admirably at the reunion. âAnd I see youâve made some friends.â Mabel let go and nodded. âYeah! Thatâs Luz! Luz, these are my grunkles! Stan and Ford!â âNice to meet you guys.â Luz said and waved politely. âMabel said youâd come, but how did you two survive out there?â âThey nearly didnât.â Eda lied easily. âWere in the mouths of a giant giraffe when I saved their butts.â âYeah right!â Stan barked a laugh. âAnyways, weâve been through worse, kid.â Luz gasped excitedly. âWorse than giant bugs and centaurs with eyes on their chest and man-eating slugs and fire-breathing eye-less fangs and jealous witches?!â âWorse. Iâve punched a pterodactyl in the face and a few zombies, fallen down a Bottomless Pit, lost my hands to a witch, fought off eagles and explosions, survived giant man-eating spidersâŠâ âStanley, that is all impressive, but have you fought a talking chair, battled in four wars, conned an abominable snowman, outran a volcano, examined floating eyebats, been turned to goldâŠâ âI find that hard to believe.â Eda snorted. âI believe them.â Luz said with a shrug. âYou always said weird stuff leaks from this world into theirs.â âSo, if you donât mind me asking,â Ford said, stepping forward. âWhat exactly is this place? Iâve heard rumors of a place called the Boiling Isles, but I just thought it was a little hiding place like the Crawlspace, not an entirely new dimension.â âNope!â Eda corrected happily. âThis whole world is the Boiling Isles, a world full of despair, monsters, gross-stuff, demons, and magic.â âThis place sounds so cool!â Mabel cheered. She looked at Luz and said, âNo wonder you wanted to stay here. Wait! Do you have your own room?!â âYeah! Câmon, Iâll show you!â And the girls ran off with Luz scratching Kingâs tummy and leaving him to nap on the floor, tired from laughing. Eda plopped down on the couch and gestured for the men to do the same. âIâd offer refreshments but all we have is apple blood and some disgusting beverage Luz likes called orange juice.â Stan looked up at the wanted poster of Eda and the reward promised for her capture. He smiled, impressed and interested. âWeâre okay, thank you, Eda.â Ford said. âIf you donât mind me asking, our niece said something about Luz choosing to stay here?â âYeah, thatâs right.â Eda reached under her couch-cushion and rummaged as she spoke. âKid came through my door when Owlbert brought over some little treasures to sell. Sweet girl. Kinda naive and gullible, but clever in her own right and sheâs a fast learner. Stubborn with the forces of positivity.â Stan snorted. âHeh. We know someone like that.â âShe said she didnât fit in at home.â Eda finally found what she was looking for and pulled out a wrinkled, crumpled up pamphlet at read, Reality Check Summer Camp: Think Inside the Box. âDonât really understand some of this human stuff, but I figured it must be pretty bad if it made a kid not wanna go home, so I read over it and this place sounds awful! Totally squandered any creativity or individualism! Her own mother was sending her here!â Eda let Ford look it over and she shrugged off the rant. âAnyway, she said she wanted to stay and she was willing to work for it, so I took her in as my apprentice for the summer and now sheâs learning how to be a witch.â âHm, sounds a lot better than kidnapping.â Stan approved with his arms crossed over his chest. âThis place is completely horrible.â Ford commented about the summer camp. âThey teach kids how to appropriate public radio!â âAM or FM?â âBoth.â âOuch.â âSo, what exactly are you doing with such a cute girl, Eight-Ball?â Eda asked, getting Stanâs attention. âAnd what is a grunkle?â She snorted with a smile. âSheâs our grandniece.â Stan said proudly, puffing out his chest. âWeâre her great-uncles. Her grunkles.â âAw, who knew you were such a softie?â âI am not!â âYou watched over five hours of video-tutorials on how to braid hair.â Ford said behind the pamphlet. âShe asked me to braid her hair and it bothered me that I couldnât do it!â Eda cackled and touched Stanâs shoulder. His eyes followed and he smiled at her cute laugh. âAw, youâre worse than King.â King peeked an eye at her and sneered, âOne more passive aggressive comment and IâllâŠâ âThatâs not a passive aggressive comment.â Eda said as she picked up the little goofball. âI can do better than that.â âHuh, and here I was thinking that was just one of Luzâs toys.â Stan teased. âHey!â King stood on the couch by Edaâs side and pointed a bony paw at the old man. âSince youâre a human, Iâll let you walk away with a warning, but have it be known that Iâm the King of Demons and shall one day drink the fear of those who mock me!â Ford folded the pamphlet and observed King cautiously. He didnât like⊠his voice. His voice sent shivers down the old scientistâs spine. Stan snorted. âSorry, pipsqueak, but Iâve faced worse demons than you.â âOh, yeah, like what?â King asked. The girls came back, smiling and holding hands, and Luz asked, âEda, can we please please PLEASE have a sleepover?! I want to show Mabel the new light spell I learned and show her how to properly scratch a demonâs tummy.â Ford chuckled and stood. âIâm sorry, ladies, but we really should be heading back. Iâm sure Dipper is worried sick.â Mabel gasped with horror. âOh, NO! Dipper!â âOh, hey, donât worry.â Luz eased. âYou two are totally welcome here anytime you want.â âAw, thanks, Luz.â Mabel hugged her and said, âI promise Iâll bring Dip-Dip next time. Heâd love it here! And he could tell you all about the Manotaurs and the weird copy-machine.â Eda and Stan stood up, too, and the Owl Lady had her arms crossed over her chest. âWell, looks like weâll be seeing each other again pretty soon. You okay with them hanging out?â Stan shrugged and pocketed his hands in his jeans. âYeah, sure. Good friends are kinda rare these days. Gotta hold onto âem and never let âem go.â âAgreed.â Eda said and saw them exchanging those odd codes on their glowing rectangles. âWell, have your girl tell my girl when to open the door and Iâll see what I can do.â And she held out a hand to Stan. He hesitated (not just because of whose hand it was, but because shaking hands always seemed to lead to something bad, but maybe this time will be different), but he took it and shook it gently. âYeah, and if your girl never needs a break in the human world, have her tell my girl.â Eda smiled at Stan and shook Fordâs hand, as well. She pulled the key out of her hair and unlocked the door, making it appear and swing open. Mabel skipped to her great-uncles and waved goodbye to Luz, who waved back, and she went with Ford through the door for home. Stan stole one last look at Eda, who winked at him, and he disappeared with a pink face.
~~~~~~~~~~
Authorâs Note:Â OKAY, first things first, when it comes to fic, I personally don't really like crossovers. Crossovers can be a fun NON-CANON crossover for animation or actors. I get more enjoyment over fun fanart than I so of fics, because I like mine more plot-driven and it's hard to get a good story going just because you wants certain characters to mingle. HOWEVER, I find Gravity Falls and The Owl House just fit so well together! Why? #1: Alex Hirsch and Dana Terrace (the creators) are dating and Dana Terrace is responsible for the awesome Ducktakes reboot (season 1, anyway) AND the famous Not What He Seems scene. So having such a strong connection creativity wise of the shows is very apparent, more so than the other shows. #2: Evidence that supports these connections. Both shows have referenced each other and a theory goes that Eda and Stan were once married for less than a day. (plz check this video for more) And #3: ... I ship it pretty damn hard, okay? So I hope you guys will enjoy this fun little crossover as much as me! And thank you so much for reading!
#gravity falls#the owl house#eda the owl lady#stan pines#luz noceda#mabel pines#ford pines#dipper pines#king of demons#crossover#fallen owls#fanfiction#oh boy#plz don't hate me but i had to#im shipping trash#its official#remember bitches love comments#and yes i am taking suggestions#what trouble should these silver foxes get into?
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Lionâs Pride: Chapter Twenty-Three
25. Â Â
It would be a lie to say that Aedion isnât nervous, not that he would ever admit it. His pack is heavy over his shoulder, filled with unnecessary items that Gavriel demanded heâd bring. The forest rustles around them, the sounds of the camp drawing closer. Caiusâs letter crinkles in his pocket as a thin and creased warning.
âAedion,â Gavrielâs warm voice, tinged with humor, rings out. âYou do realize that I am not marching you to your death, yes?â
The Lion receives a piercing glare in return. âIâm meeting a fae army.â
âMy fae army.â
âYou say that as if itâs supposed to calm me,â Aedion growls. âYour brothers and Caius will be there, along with all your soldiers. These males have marched under your command. I have followed your every order. And now theyâll be meeting me.â
âYou are a general,â Gavriel says with strong certainty. âMany of them will try to push you, yes, but I believe you will more than be able to hold your own.â
âAnd if Iâm not?â
Gavriel sends him a dry look. Aedion chuckles and flashes a sharp grin.
~~~
âYouâre a little short, arenât you?â
Aedion blinks at the slightly grey-haired fae female in front of him. Her hands are planted on her hips, frowning as she looks up at him. Gavriel himself cocks his head in question, Caius snorting from his position from the fire.
âYou come up to my chest,â Aedion flicks his brows up.
âStill,â the female clicks her tongue. âCompared to the Rowan and Gavriel youâre not exactly the longest stick. Do you eat enough? Iâll get you some dinner. Sit down by your father.â
Aedion blinks once again, watching the female stride off in the direction of food. Both Caius and Gavriel cover their mouths to hide their amusement, obviously enjoying the commentary.
âWho,â Aedion turns back to Gavriel, âwas that?â
âThat was Caiusâs sister,â Gavriel chuckles, easing himself down onto a log besides Caius. âTerella.â
âBe prepared to be pampered,â Caius grins. âSheâs been desperate to meet you.â
Aedion rolls his eyes, settling onto the log beside Gavriel. They chat for a few minutes, a circle on warriors gathering around their fire. At one point Terrella manages to wedge herself between Aedion and some fae male that decided to join them. She and Aedion quickly sparked a conversation between the differences in their amour and weaponry. Gavriel watches them chatter with a smile sneaking up, eyes glinting in amusement and pride as several males lean forward to hear Aedionâs stories.
âYou do know that your brothers are coming, yes?â Caius murmurs, leaning in. âThey should be arriving tomorrow at daybreak.â
âIâm aware,â Gavriel nods. âThey had the forethought to send an early message this time. Aedion and I look forward to seeing them.â
âThatâs good,â Caius lowers his voice further. âThereâs something I would like to discuss with you in my tent first.â
Gavriel flicks his eyes over to examine his friend. An unusually grave look has settled upon Caiusâs face, the usually dapper male solemn and grim as he stares at Gavriel. Then his eyes flicker to Aedion, something like rage and fear appearing. The change makes something in Gavrielâs chest jolt and in response, he immediately nods and stands.
Aedion looks up at them and grins. âTired already?â
âCaius is going to show me where our tent is,â Gavriel smiles easily. âIt should be right by his. Iâll be back later.â
The night is loud. Half from the warriors laughing around their sporadic fires and half from the crunch of twigs and leaves snapping under the feet of invisible creatures. Gavriel steadily follows Caius to his tent, golden eyes scanning the area and glad to see it devoid of company. Most have set up their fires by the lake off to the side, one of the many rivers that flow from Doranelle. Caius ducks under the tent flap, Gavriel following suit. Inside is a simple chest and bedroll. Both males opt to stand.
âSome bastard has been using âAdarlanâs Whoreâ an awful lot,â Caius reports bluntly. âMost of the army dismisses it since Aedionâs true alliances to Terrasen are now well known. Many respect him for going to such lengths to revenge his court. However, some believe it would have been⊠expected of someone like him.â
Of course. The sick knowledge rises up in Gavrielâs throat like a curdled mass of tar. That twisted sense of loyalty that so many fae and courts still have. That he once had to Maeve. So many would nod their heads at the idea of a demi-fae doing such a thing. It would be expected that such a half-breed would be used that way. Unimaginable for a pureblood fae, such a thing would be a disgrace. But a demi-fae? Expandable. A sick way of thinking that Gavriel has encountered many times over the years and never ceased to be disgusted by.
âItâs not only that,â Caius continues. âWhile some see it as an expectation, others see it as a disgrace. They believe Aedion has no honor, whoring himself to a country he takes an oath to while all along planning to stab them in the back. They see the deceit as dishonorable.â
The words clang through Gavrielâs chest. âHe was a child. He did what he needed to do to survive.â
Caius hesitates. âYes. But he also swore himself to a king he continuously betrayed and plotted to kill.â
âYou agree with this?â Gavriel bares his teeth, anger cracking through his usually endless resolve.
âNo!â Caius holds up his hands, horror flicking across his features. âGods above, no. You know me better than that, Gavriel. Iâm just trying to make the situation clear to you. To many of the people here, in terms of fae culture-â
âAedion is dishonest, disloyal, dishonorable andâŠâ Gavriel trails off, the words ticking through his mind like a persistent clock, ever-steady and unending.
âAnd used,â Caius adds quietly, flinching at Gavrielâs growl. âIâm sorry! I dislike this situation as well, Gavriel. But being whored out, used, taking an oath under false claims and planning betrayal against the king whom he offered services⊠We know Aedion. I justify everything he has done and your child I see him only in the best light. But there are people here who do not know him. Who only see him as a weak, dishonorable male. I needed to warn you of this before you heard anything yourself.â
âI⊠I understand,â Gavriel swallows back his anger, hands clenching at his sides and shoulders squaring. âThank you for alerting me of this.â
âWill you tell Aedion?â Caius eyes the male.
âNo,â Gavriel slowly shakes his head. âI will allow Aedion to defend himself if the need arises. The people here shall face the Wolf of the North if they wish to slander Adarlanâs Whore.â
~~~
âIâm not sharing a bedroll with you.â
Gavriel huffs a small breath of laughter as he and Aedion walk towards their tent. âWe each have one, Aedion. Caius isnât that cruel.â
âI am, actually,â the male clicks his tongue, stopping outside his own tent. âEither way, if you bastards hate each other by the end of the night then one of you is sleeping outside because Iâm not allowing anyone in my tent.â
With that he ducks inside, the flap falling shut behind him. Aedion blinks.
âHe reminds me of Kyllian,â Aedion murmurs to Gavriel, eyes narrowed.
Brows raised, Gavriel turns away. âHe reminds me more of you, and I more of Kyllian. Iâd have to say that the positions are reversed in this situation, son.â
Snorting, Aedion follows after Gavriel, chuckling quietly. âYou think youâre more like Kyllian? Kyllian, who once fell off a tree while drunk?â
âYou didnât know me in my youth,â Gavriel clicks his tongue, holding open the flap of their tent as Aedion ducks inside. âYou can ask your uncles once they arrive.â
âI fully intend to,â Aedion smirks, collapsing on his bedroll. âWell, goodnight.â
âTake off your shoes first, and your knivesâ
âWeâre in a war camp. Everyone is armed.â
âFine,â Gavriel relents. âJust donât accidentally stab one of your uncles if they come early tomorrow and sneak in.â
They settle down, both familiar with sleeping in tents and on bedrolls. In some cases just sleeping on the bare earth. The heat of Wendlyn presses upon them in a way the cold chill in Terrasen never did. Unlike the quick, sharp knives of frost and ice, the heavy humidity bears down on them like a blanket coated in cement. Smothering their breaths and collecting sweat at the napes of their neck.
âAre you alright?â Gavriel murmurs, noticing Aedionâs displeasure. âI donât know how you survive with this humidity,â Aedion sighs, wiping the back of his hand against his face.
Gavriel hums. âIâm interested in seeing how you will handle training in it. The environment here is wholly different from Terrasen.â
âHere Iâm drowning in my own sweat,â Aedion snorts, shifting.
A comfortable silence drifts across both of them. Gavriel closes his eyes.
âSo, does it snow during winter here?â
The corner of Gavrielâs mouth turns up no matter how hard he tries to repress it. âNo, it does not.â
âI see.â
Gavriel waits a moment.
âTeralla is nice.â
âSheâs lovely.â
âShe gave me a knife.â
It takes Gavriel a moment to process the words. Another to compute the happy, simple tone Aedion states this in. A final moment is needed to contain a sigh. Of course, his son would be given weaponry. If he was five years old they would all probably still be handing him swords and shield and the gods know what else.
âAnd Caius gave me a mace. But thatâs not here right now.â
There it is.
âWould you like to show me?â Gavriel asks wryly, asking the question Aedion was obviously waiting for.
His son immediately hands him the blade from Teralla. Gavriel carefully pulls it out of its sheath, even in the darkness of the tent the iron gleaming with its menacing edge. Constellations have been etched into the blade, small and simple yet adding a piece of the night sky into the weapon.
âItâs beautiful,â Gavriel hands it back. âVery finely made.â
âIn return, I gave her a knife from the fangs,â Aedion tucks the blade away. âWhile common in Terrasen they seem to be quite rare here.â
âShe would have loved that,â Gavriel closes his eyes. âTomorrow be sure to tell her about your shields history.â
Aedion hums in agreement. Silence bestows them once more.
âThere was also this female that told me she once-â
They stay up for at least another two hours, Gavriel listening attentively to the stories and interjecting when appropriate. He couldnât help but smile at certain parts, his chest flooding with warmth. Yet when sleep finally came it was a blessing.
~~~
âWhy are you so tired?â Caius frowns at Gavriel and the marks under his eyes. âAedion is awake. You knew youâd be up early.â
âMy son contains an ungodly amount of energy that I cannot fathom,â Gavriel rubs at his face. âThe youth of today is terrifying.â
âYou sound old.â
âWe are old, Caius,â Gavriel raises a brow. âWeâre two of the oldest individuals here.â
The other male mutters denials under his breath, squinting into the distance. Gavriel smiles at the reaction, turning to watch where Aedion sits atop a boulder to watch for his uncles' arrival.
âAre you sure you wonât tell him?â Caius mutters.
âIâm sure. Heâs already impressed half the people here.â
âYet the more⊠old-fashioned fae are still stuck in their ways.â
âI donât care,â Gavriel swallows back a growl. âAedion can and will handle himself. Iâll only step in if necessary.â
Caius raises his brows yet says nothing. Gavriel ignores the incredulous look, choosing instead to focus as Aedion jumps to the ground. He flings out an arm to point towards a cluster of trees. Two lions prowl forwards from the undergrowth, their muscles sliding under their golden coats and claws sinking into the earth. As soon as they clear the trees a flash of light shines out, two males standing in their place. Marco and Heiral both grin, striding towards them with a purpose. Heiral immediately breaks away to sling an arm around Aedionâs shoulder.
âThereâs my favorite nephew,â Heiral grins, jostling Aedion. âHow are you holding up with the warriors?â
âNothing compared to the Bane,â Aedion smirks. âI thought the lot down here would be harder to handle.â
Marco watches them bicker and shakes his head. âHow have things really been?â
âSome tension, but otherwise fine,â Gavriel crosses his arms. âThe holiday season is repressing conflict.â
âYet sometimes,â Marco hums, âit put extra pressure on that conflict.â
Gavriel eyes his brother, uncomfortable with the truth in the words. âAre you here to stir that conflict, brother?â
âNo,â Marco admits silently. âNot at all. But Iâve heard the rumors. Heiral hasnât.â
Surprise springs from Gavriel. He glances at Aedion and Heiral, at how they laugh and jostle at each other. If Heiral were to find out blood would spill, not just on the land they are standing on but in Terrasen also. There is no doubt to Gavriel that Heiral would gladly hunt down all offenders that dared to lay their hands on Aedion. If Heiral did decide to hunt so would Marco. Gavriel would have hesitation, if only because he would need Dorian and Aelinâs permission to kill members of their nations. He doubts they would hesitate to give him clearance.
âKeep Heiral away from the dissent creators,â Gavriel orders quietly. âWe need to avoid as much confrontation as possible.â
Marco nods, yet doubt clouds his eyes. Gavriel understands, really he does. How long will it take before the strain in the camp snap? Heâs seen the way Aedionâs shoulders stiffen at times when his sonâs smirk turns threatening instead of jovial. No doubt insults have already been flung. All that can be hoped is that they avoid a full out brawl.
~~~
The answer to Gavrielâs previous question is seven hours. Seven hours later, into midday, is when the shouts ring out and Heiral roars with blood covering his fist and spraying across his chin.
It took three minutes for word to reach Gavriel on the other side of the camp.
One minute for him to tear through the crowds to his brother.
Thirty seconds to haul Heiral off the cursing fae guard.
And ten seconds to register Aedionâs shocked expression, his son standing off to the side.
âWhat happened?â Gavriel growls, spinning Heiral to face him as soldiers drag the injured fae away.
âHe said that Aedion whored himself for the king of Adarlan,â Heiral trembles with his rage, spitting the words. âThat he lay with whoever he needed to succeed.â
âHeiral-â
âThose lies-â
âJust-â
âItâs true,â Aedionâs voice slices through them, the younger male pushing forward to claps Heiralâs bicep. âI was Adarlanâs Whore. I had to sleep with many people, both by choice and otherwise.â
Stuttering in his movements, Heiral turns to look at Aedion, something in his eyes softening immeasurably. âOh, boyo. Iâm-â
âWe need to go somewhere more private,â Marco interrupts, eyeing the muttering fae around them. âIn case you all forgot, everyone here can hear you quite clearly.â
âI donât give a shit,â Aedion shrugs one shoulder. âTheyâve heard the stories and come to their own conclusions. They donât deserve any concern.â
âDamn right,â Heiral growls, tawny eyes flickering over to the bleeding fae. âJust let me-â
âNow, Heiral,â Gavriel tugs his brotherâs arm. âTo the tent. We need to keep a full fight from fermenting.â
Indeed, many of the fae are teetering amongst themselves. Whispering stories and rumors to another, some starting small arguments as they look to Aedion than away again. Gavriel mutters a quick word to Caius, who calls out to the warriors and starts to disband them, making his way to the bleeding fae and leading him away. Relenting, Heiral allows his brothers and Aedion to drag him to where their tents stand.
âI didnât realise thereâd be such a fuss over me,â Aedion leans against a tree, arms crossed. âIn Terrasen most people just mutter about this shit then move on.â
Gavriel almost feels like calling Aedion out on the lie, on pointing out all the slurs and accusations his son's faces but stays silent. The bravado is there for a reason.
âNo one here blames you for what happened in Adarlan,â Marco holds Aedionâs gaze. âNone of us do.â
âSome of it was my choice, you know,â Aedion flicks his brows up. âI did make the conscious decision to fuck my way up the ranks at times.â
Gavriel captures his breath in his chest, waiting for his brotherâs reactions.
âOf course you damn did,â Heiral frowns. âWho wouldnât? I remember when Gavriel first started in the military and had a tizzy with his commander, a lovely female named-â
The Lion is immediately shooting his brother a ferocious growl, cutting him off as Aedion whirls around to stare at his father. Marco shakes his head, sending his eyes upwards to the stars.
âWhat Heiral means,â Marco drags back the conversation, âis that we accept everything that occurred. We are proud of you, not ashamed. For the things that were your choices and the things that werenât.â
Aedion looks away, mouth set into a hard line as a not-quite-steady breath flows through his chest. All males stand in silence, allowing the weight and emotion of those words to pass through them all before continuing.
âThatâs the reason for distaste in the camp,â Heiral shakes his head. âSome people here feel for you while others scorn you. â
âLike usual,â Aedion snorts. âI shouldnât have come.â
âDonât be ridiculous,â the words leave Gavriel in a rush. âMany here already love you. Terella dotes on you, and Caius sees you as a nephew already.â
A smile tugs at the corner of Aedionâs mouth, joy sparkling in his blue eyes. Gavriel knows that they arenât the only fae Aedion had connected with, his son meeting many young demi-fae like himself, finding solace in being around people with the same abilities as his for once. Itâs been a joy to find his son sparring with others so similar to him in species, build and abilities.
Yet in Gavrielâs opinion his son outweighs them all.
âCaius and Terella are taking care of the male,â Gavriel frowns at Heiral. âThey will sort out the situation. For now, itâs best that everyone retires for the night and we allow all this to rest.â
Thoughts swirl so violently through Gavrielâs head that he barely registers how quiet Aedion is. His son collapses on the bedroll and stares at the roof of the tent in contemplation. Gavriel finally notices this when he sits down, realising after five minutes that Aedion hasnât started a conversation right when they are about to sleep.
âAre you alright?â Gavriel asks quietly.
âI was foolish enough to think it would be different here,â Aedion snorts, folding his hands on his stomach. âThe only place I donât have to put up with this bullshit is when Iâm with the Bane.â
âWe can go back if you want,â Gavriel ignores the pang in his chest, at the idea that his son is as uncomfortable around his fatherâs own army, own comrades, as he is everywhere else.
âNo,â Aedion frowns, sitting up. âFuck, no. Iâm enjoying myself. Itâs just a few bastards pissing me off.â
âYour language becomes appaling when youâre in a war camp,â Gavriel allows a scolding tone to seep into his voice.
Aedion seems to turn just a little sheepish under Gavrielâs stare. âForce of habit.â
âBreak that habit.â
âI will when youâre around,â Aedion grins. âSo⊠Caius and Terella are looking after that fae male?â
âThey are,â Gavriel agrees. âAll though I wouldnât say they are âlooking afterâ him. No doubt Terella is tearing into him.â
âSheâs terrifying,â Aedion agrees happily. âShe taught me yesterday how to remove a person's spleen and spine in the same move.â
âReally?â Gavriel perks up. âDid she show you with the dagger she gave you?â
âShe did,â Aedion smiles widely. âWe should invite her to Terrasen for the holidays next week. Caius too.â
âThatâs right,â Gavriel realises it suddenly. âWeâre going back tomorrowâŠ. Iâll ask if they want to come with us.â
~~~
Thatâs how, five days later, the great hall in Terrasen is filled to the brim. Tinsel across the windows, taels laden with food and fine clothes flashing as people dance to the musicians. Evangeline laughs as she dances with other children, Fleetfoot running around her feet and flowers are woven into her hair courtesy of Aedion.
The cadre members, Lorcan, Vaughan and Fenrys all talk by a large fireplace, drinks in hand as Lorcan scowls and Vaughan smiles slightly at Fenrysâs story, the male drawing in a crowd with his tales. Off to the side, on the dance floor, Rowan and Aelin sway together. The queen keeps one hand on her mates chest, the other holding his own as his broad palm presses against her waits. His silver and green suit matches perfectly with her dress that flourishes out from the waist. Aelin mutters things in his ears that cause him to smirk and others to drift away.
Elide stands next to the buffet with a group of witches and Manon, laughing loudly with her friend. The balcony where Abraxos resides is right next to the table, the giant beast sticking his head in to sniff at the meat only for Manon to growl him away. From time to time Lorcan glances over at them, drifting over to allow Elide to pull him onto the dance floor. He glares at everyoneâs laughs, only smiling when Elide tips her head back and booms out laughter when he swings her into the air, pounding in mock anger at his shoulders.
Caius, Terella, Marco, and Heiral stand with Aedion and Lysandra. The shifter holds a deep conversation with Terella, the two of them debating furiously over the benefits of claws versus knives. Marco watches on in fascination as Gavriel and watches Heiral and Aedion poke and prod at the giant pile of presents piled in the corner of the room. The two go so far as to pick some up, Gavrielâs gaze the only thing stopping them from shaking the boxes.
Five days until Yulemas. Yet the party, and company, is already flourishing.
______
Special notice: So itâs been about two years and Lionâs Pride has gone on for so long. On AO3 itâs just reached over 10,000 hits, making it one of the most popular fics in the fandom on the site. All of that is because of how well received it was by tog lovers, and I canât thank you guys enough. This was my first fic and it honestly wouldn't have made it past the first chapter if it wasnât for you all xxx â€ïž
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Lionheart chuckled. "No, you're supposed to respect them as dangerous opponents to the work we do. Five of these tribes still operate in Anima today, though their influence is nowhere near what it once was. You may find this lesson a little more⊠practical than most."
Gods. It had to come up eventuallyâHuntsmen didn't just fight Grimm. They knew when they signed up there would be lessons on⊠on killing bandits⊠But the second month of school? Some luck.
Qrow watched the professor through his bangs as Lionheart set the chalk on the tray and folded his arms behind his back, tail swishing slowly behind him as always.
"They're just bandits," the same girl said.
Follow the Beacon QrowâDoomed to Repeat It
[Link to Masterpost]
[TW: child abuse, abuse, PTSD, anxiety, panic attacks. A lot happens here. I think I got all relevant warnings. Summary at the bottom as always.]
[In Volume 5, Yang mopped the floor with the cousins Branwens without breaking a sweat, but in World of Remnant Qrow also described the bandits as being surprisingly competent. This is why I have a few good fighters leading the tribe, and the rest are just opportunistic a*holes.Â
 Anyways, here you go! Have a pile of my angstiest headcanons...]
"âŠletting Vale rebuild the southern wall. On to Animaâdoes anyone know what was happening in Mistral during the Xan Era?" Lionheart asked, glancing over his shoulder as his chalk hovered an inch from the board.
"The Bandit Queen!" someone shouted. "I love that movie!"
Qrow's pen froze in his notebook. Had he misheard? But no, Raven stopped too.Â
"Yes, well, I'm afraid the film embellishes some details," Lionheart chuckled, writing THE GREATER BANDIT WAR on the board. "But yes, that is the general idea. Bandits have always been a problem in Anima, much more than in Sanus. Any ideas as to why?"
"âŠWell, Anima has a lot more villages outside the main kingdom than Sanus."Â
"It does. Animaâs climate is far milder and more predictable. Homesteading outside of the kingdom has always been easier, and sadly in the case of banditry more prey means more predators."
The pen shook in Qrow's hand as he copied what Lionheart was writing on the board. He'd been having an okay day until now...
"Historians agree it was actually a drought that began the war. Crops failed, and people began to congregate in the citiesâespecially in Mistral. As Marin mentioned, there were six major tribes roaming Anima at the time, and they quickly found themselves with no one to take food from."
"What, are we supposed to feel sorry for them?" someone grumbled from the third row.
Lionheart chuckled. "No, you're supposed to respect them as dangerous opponents to the work we do. Five of these tribes still operate in Anima today, though their influence is nowhere near what it once was. You may find this lesson a little moreâŠÂ practical than most."
Gods. It had to come up eventuallyâHuntsmen didn't just fight Grimm. They knew when they signed up there would be lessons on⊠on killing bandits⊠But the second month of school? Some luck.
Qrow watched the professor through his bangs as Lionheart set the chalk on the tray and folded his arms behind his back, tail swishing slowly behind him as always.
"They're just bandits," the same girl said. Tiffany? That was her name, right?
"Bandit tribes are the second-best fighters on Remnant, after Huntsmen," Lionheart warned. "And you cannot afford to take them lightly. I am from Anima, I fought plenty before I took up teaching."
"What makes them so dangerous?" someone else asked.
Lionheart smiled. "That is precisely the sort of question you should be asking to get the most from this subject. But to answer itâbandits are just as practiced in the use of aura as any Huntsman or Huntress, and every single one has had their Semblance unlocked since the age of five."
The class broke into astonished mutters and whispers, and Qrow looked down at his notes again. "How's that possible?"
"The tribes have some⊠unique practices. Some anthropologists go so far as to call it a religionâthey justify their actions through a simple code: 'the strong live, the weak die'."
Qrow's stomach curdled.
"Most of you found your Semblances in a moment of need, or intense emotion, correct?" Lionheart continued. "In order to make their people stronger, they do not train their children to generate a defensive aura until after their Semblance is unlocked." More shocked whispers from the students. "As Semblances frequently manifest during times of duress⊠if a bandit has not found theirs by the age of five, they face a trial of some kindâmost often beatingsâuntil they do, or die trying.â
He dropped the pen and folded his hands under the desk so no one would see them shaking. Next to him Raven continued to scratch out notes. But it had been easier for herâRavenâs portals were obvious, showy, and manifested within a few minutes. It hadn't taken the tribe any time at all to figure out what she could do.Â
...Maybe if he'd been allowed to discover his Semblance naturally, he'd be able to control it.
âThatâs barbaric!â
"True, but remember their code, 'the strong live, the weak die'." Lionheart's voice dragged his attention back to the current danger. "If a bandit does not have a Semblance, the tribesmen see them as unfit to survive. And while cruel, it is effectiveâthe practice is one reason the tribes persist to this day.âÂ
His tail lashed as he began to pace in front of his desk. "Another is their hit-and-run tactics⊠raiding a village generates a lot of negative emotions, and will almost always draw in the Creatures of Grimm. Huntsmen sent to aid the town are frequently too occupied fending them off to catch the bandits before they disappear into the wilderness."
He turned to the other chalkboard, the one with the permanent map of Remnant, and began to draw lines across Anima. "The tribes each have their own territory, bordered by natural barriers just like the kingdoms, preventing them from fighting with each other too much. Since the Great War and the founding of the Huntsman academies, the territory that contains Mistral was cleared when the Mathon tribe was wiped out."
Bones had been furious. The tribe burned three villages to the ground without even taking anything, and Qrow and Raven earned their brands a year early.
Please. Please, just let the bell ring.
"The other tribes have weakened considerably as well, particularly those close to Mistral. As technology has improved, so have our response times. The current council is hopeful that the rest of the tribes will fall before the end of this era, and have dedicated significant resources to fighting them. âŠMister and Miss Taupe, you are from Anima, correct?"Â
Qrow's blood froze. Every eye in the room was staring directly at them.
"Do you know which tribe was active near your home?"
He didn't look up. The question hung in the air, demanding an answer. Raven was shaking, he could feel through the bench. He swallowed and croaked out, "Branwen."
"Ah, hem, yes," Lionheart said. "In the Xan Era, the Branwen tribe was the largest of the sixâŠ"
* * *
The bell rang, mercifully cutting off the discussion of battle tactics during the sacking of Mistral. Lionheart glanced at the clock in surprise, finally returning to the present. "We got a little off-track there, didn't we?" he chuckled, finally setting down his chalk.Â
Qrow and Raven hurriedly shoved their things into their bags as he continued. "Make sure you've read chapter three in the textbook. Instead of a write-up, let's do an essay comparing the modern tribes to their Xan Era counterpartsâyou'll find some information on the contemporary tribes in chapter seventy-eight, but use at least a few additional sources and cite them appropriately. Iâll set the due date at the end of the monthâ"
"How about after Halloween?"
"Ah, yes. I'll post the specifics online tonight. Class dismissed."
Raven took off, almost running for the door and disappearing through. None of the other students seemed to notice as they gathered their things, but Lionheart was staring. Qrow just busied himself with writing the assignment down.
"I'm sorry." Qrow jumpedâthe professor had moved right in front of his desk. "I didn't consider whether you may have encountered the tribes before."
Qrow stared at him, frozen, uncomprehending.
âBut, I suppose everyone in Anima's lost someone to bandits or the Grimm attacks they cause. Particularly the HuntsmenâŠâ
"âŠOur parents," he lied.
He nodded, eyes closing for a moment. "The Branwens are particularly vicious.â Qrowâs hand tightened on his bag. âIf I may offer a word of advice, young man⊠if you came here to get revenge, do not underestimate them."
His mouth went bitterly dry. "Have youâŠmetâŠ"
"A very long time ago. Probably before you were born. Please, pass my apology on to your sister?"
"Yes, sir." Qrow slung his bag over his shoulder and headed down the stairs, but Lionheart caught him as he passed.
"It's good to have you here with us." He gently squeezed before letting go and turning toward his desk.
Qrow forced himself not to run from the room, and went to find Raven.
[Summaryâ Lionheart has a history lesson on the bandit tribes of Anima and triggers Qrow's PTSD while also terrifying Raven. Bones was not a good person. Lionheart assigns an essay, due at the end of the month, on the difference between the historical tribes and the modern ones.]
Next Chapter: TaiyangâHATCHING a Plan
#rwby#rwby fanfiction#qrow branwen#raven branwen#leonardo lionheart#bones branwen#follow the beacon#this chapter's a bit dark tread with care#whump#im so sorry#MIND THE WARNINGS
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face to the wind, eyes to the sun (pt. five)
part one
part two
part three
part four
so today is the day.
october 13th.
the sad day.
hereâs some angst to exacerbate your sadness.
***
two.
Anne looks up at the grey sky as they walk through the park on the way back home.
The snow has started to fall in earnest now, wet, heavy flakes falling down from above.
It likely wonât last. In London, snow never really stays, it typically melts within the day.
Anne remembers when she was very little, at her family castle near Kent, there was always at least one huge snowfall a year. Sheâd sneak outside after dark with her brother and sister, and together all three of them would play games in the snow, the vast grounds lit in sparkling silver by the moonlight.
She can remember seeing her older sister Mary, walking just ahead of her, raising a finger to her lips to signal that they should keep quiet as they went inside, because their father was throwing a party. Giggling when they slipped past the open door to the drawing room, filled with extravagant ladies and gentlemen. Carrying an exhausted George and brushing the snow from his hair.
She smiles at the memory, but another one, unbidden, floats up from some dark recesses of Anneâs mind, and she can see Maryâs face, twisted with disgust and shame as sheâs roughly shoved into a kneeling position. The executioner adjusts his grip on his sword, and she can hear his gloves rubbing against the leather handle.
Itâs like sheâs back there, kneeling on the scaffold, trying not to let her fear show even as her heart pounds in her chest, her prayer book clenched in her fists, the slight breeze blowing her hair into her face.
She remembers everyone claiming she had slept with George, but that wasnât true, it wasnât true, and disgust curdled in her gut at the mere thought of it, so why did everyone believe it so easily?
She can feel her breathing getting shallower and her eyes getting glassy, both telltale signs that sheâs disappearing into a panic attack, but at this point she doesnât know how to save herself.
Adrenaline spikes in her body, rushing through her veins and causing her heart to race while her limbs lose feeling.
As the demons in her subconscious get closer and she falls further and further away from reality, Anne becomes aware of someone holding her hand.
âI need you to breathe for me. In and out, okay?â
The voice is faint, and Anne can barely hear it from the numbness sheâs trapped in, but she tries to comply anyway.
âEasy, right? In and out. Everythingâs all right, Anne. Youâre safe.â
Youâre safe.
Her vision slowly clears, but her heart is still beating at approximately eighty million times its normal rate and sheâs numb all over.
She registers that sheâs sitting on a bench on the edge of the park. All of the queens are watching her with concerned looks on their faces, giving her a bit of space so she doesnât feel crowded by all of them at once.
âHow bad is it, scale of 1 to 10?â the voice that had brought Anne back asks.
â6,â Anne answers quietly.
âSheâs coming out of it,â the voice says, and when Anne looks to her left, itâs Parr whoâs talking, resting a gentle, steadying hand on her knee.
Fuck, she curses internally. Anne tries not to let anyone see her panic attacks. She knows that in her old life, her symptoms would have gotten her locked away for good, or even executed.
And even though itâs been 500 years and things have certainly changed, a part of her still feels deeply flawed whenever she has a flashback in public. An even smaller part wonders if maybe the other queens will abandon her if she shows them all of her darkest moments.
She remembers one night at a hole-in-the-wall bar after a show, when sheâd had to sprint out the side door after it got too loud and sweaty and cramped.
Jane had found her after a while, sitting against the wall of the alley next to the dumpster with smeared mascara.
âWhat are you doing here?â Anne had asked softly, feeling pathetic and tiny when she looked up at the blonde woman.
âI noticed you werenât at the table anymore,â Jane said gently, sitting down next to Anne on the sticky concrete and pushing her hair out of her face. âIt wasnât hard to guess where youâd gone.â
âIâm sorry, I know, Iâm sorry, I just couldnât-â
âAnne, sweetheart, slow down,â Jane had said, effectively cutting off Anneâs rambling apology. âYou donât have to apologize, darling. You should never have to apologize for recognizing when you need to remove yourself from a situation.â
Theyâd gone back inside after a while. Jane had given Anne a pack of tissues and sat next to her all night, keeping a grounding arm around her shoulder.
Anne never talked to her about it again. Jane clearly wanted her to, and had even tried bringing it up to her a few times, but every time Anne just changed the subject.
Hiding her true feelings has been a survival strategy all of her life. If she stops now, the people closest to her might abandon her when she needs them most.
Realizing this, she stands up abruptly, jolting out of Cathyâs space.
âWe should get home,â she announces, fighting to keep her voice steady. âCome on, slowpokes.â
âAre you sure youâre all right, love?â Jane asks, and Anne loves Jane with all her heart but that is a very stupid question to ask right now.
Sheâs dying in twelve hours and something minutes (Cathy could probably tell her the exact number, but knowing that wonât really help anything). Sheâs definitely not all right.
But she nods anyway, forcing a grin. âIâm fine. Geez, Janey, donât smother me.â She groans dramatically for effect, walking forwards with her back to the group so that they wonât see her bite her lip to keep from crying.
Her bloody animal crackers are still in her pocket for some reason, so she eats handfuls of those as she walks.
She hears quick footsteps behind her, and then Katherineâs there, falling into step with her.
âI donât want to talk about it,â Anne says, knowing her toneâs too harsh even as she starts talking. âI donât know if I even can.â
âI wasnât going to ask you to,â Kat replies gently. âI just wanted to walk with you.â
They fall into silence after that, and Anne knows the other queens are following a bit further back, but sheâs glad they arenât trying to interrupt the quiet.
The branches overhead form a sort of vaulted ceiling, a breeze coming through every few minutes and shaking down a dusting of snow.
âIt kind of looks like weâre getting cocaine dumped on us,â Anne jokes, ruining the stillness of the moment.
It was purposeful, though. If she was left alone in the silence, she might have another panic attack, and two of those so close together might leave her spent and vulnerable.
It was better to sabotage your own life before anyone or anything else could do it for you.
Katherine nudges Anne with her shoulder. âPenny for your thoughts,â she says, and she looks so young in her multicolored scarf and pink hat, but Anne thinks her little cousin might be the smartest out of all of them.
âTheyâre not worth that much, Kitty,â Anne says softly, kicking up some old leaves into the gutter, where the slushy snow has started to pile up.
âWell, they are to me,â Katherine responds, making eye contact with Anne so she can tell she means it. âWhatâs on your mind?â
âJust⊠considering some things, thatâs all,â Anne replies vaguely, shoving her hands in her pockets. She shouldâve brought gloves.
âI think we all are. Todayâs certainly a day for considering things.â
Anne appreciates that she doesnât interrogate her about her feelings, like some of the others mightâve done.
âDo you believe in an afterlife?â she asks, looking determinedly at the sky and not at Kat next to her, trying not to cry. âMaybe not heaven or hell, but something? Like, was there one when you died the first time?â
âI want there to be one,â Katherine says, running her mittened hand over the slats in a fence as she walks next to Anne. âI donât want to say goodbye to any of you tonight, and I canât lose-â Her voice breaks before completing the sentence, but Anne knows sheâs talking about Jane. Katherine takes a shaky breath and continues. âBut no matter how much I want there to be an afterlife, believing in it is a different story entirely. I donât remember anything happening after the first time I died, so why should something happen now?â
Anne nods, and then she laughs, causing Katherine to look confused and a little hurt, so she rushes to amend it.
âSorry, itâs just- you put it in words. Exactly. Thatâs how I feel too. A few more fucks sprinkled in there, maybe, but you just somehow vocalized what Iâm feeling right now. Thank you, Kitty.â
âYouâre welcome, Annie,â Katherine says, smiling.
They make easy conversation for the rest of the walk, the rest of the queens catching up to them for the last few blocks. Jane looks up every so often at Anne, clearly still worried, and Anne tries to be as jovial as possible to alleviate her concern.
The effort is tiring, though, so she heads straight to her bedroom when they get back to the flat and shuts the door behind her, sinking to the floor and sitting with her back to the wood.
At that exact moment, though, pulling her knees up to her chest to make herself smaller, Anne sees blood on her hand.
Itâs a small cut, really. She probably got it in her rush to take her shoes off, or mightâve scraped her hand against something accidentally.
But the sight of blood sends her plunging into memories, and her scar throbs, and for the second time that day Anne Boleyn is left helpless, completely at the mercy of her past.
Some time later, the door opens, but itâs not Kitty this time.
Itâs Jane.
âHey, love,â she says, coming over to the bed, where Anne had moved once she realized she was slipping into an anxiety attack.
âHi,â Anne replies, and it takes an immense amount of effort to get the word out. She doesnât turn away from the wall.
âYou donât have to talk if thatâs too much. I just wanted to check up on you,â Jane explains softly. âI brought you some water, itâs here on your nightstand when you want it.â
Anne nods. âThank you,â she whispers, her voice near-silent.
âThe rest of them are very worried about you, darling. Can I tell them they can come up?â Jane asks. âThey just want to know that youâre all right.â
Anne gives another small nod, feeling guilt at having worried them over something so trivial.
The door closes, then opens, then closes again, and Anne can hear the shuffling sounds that mean someoneâs sat down on the rug.
â1 to 10?â
Anne recognizes Cathyâs voice and hesitates, but chooses to be truthful.
â8. Maybe 9.â
âOh, Anne,â Cathy murmurs.
âIâve had worse,â Anne responds, in a hurry to ease Parrâs mind. Itâs true. Their first week of reincarnation, she didnât leave her room, constantly trapped in a state of complete terror.
âJust because youâve gone through something worse than this doesnât mean that this doesnât matter,â Cathy states firmly.
The door opens again, and light footsteps enter into the room.
Still curled up and facing the wall, she hears the bedsprings creak as Jane sits down on the edge of the bed.
âIs this okay?â she asks quietly, and in her peripheral vision Anne can see Jane reach out and lightly rest a hand on her back, making sure that Anne can track her movements and pull away if she needs to.
âYes,â Anne whispers, feeling the tension in her shoulders relax at the contact.
Cathy sits there for a few more minutes before moving to stand up and walk away, and Anne whimpers before sheâs even aware that sheâs doing it.
âPlease donât leave,â she says in a small voice as she finally turns to look at Cathy, hating herself for how cowardly she sounds.
Jane hears her first, and because Jane is Jane, and because at this point she probably knows Anne better than anyone else alive, she lays down on the bed next to her and pulls Anne close, making sure not to grip her too tightly.
Itâs exactly what Anne needs. She can feel herself melting into the hug, clinging to Jane like sheâs about to get swept away in a flood. Cathy lays on the other side of her, so Anne is sandwiched between two of her best friends as she finally lets herself break.
She starts crying, whispering âplease donât leaveâ over and over again, and she feels absolutely pathetic but Cathyâs still there, rubbing a hand up and down her back and telling her to breathe.
âI wonât leave, I promise you, Anne,â she replies softly. âI wonât ever leave, donât worry. None of us will.â
âBut you will,â Anne protests, sitting up, panic overtaking her again. âYouâre leaving me tonight, and so are you-â-she looks at Jane-âand so is everyone else, and I donât know what Iâm going to-â She breaks off, afraid of revealing too much, but Cathyâs looking at her with some sort of understanding in her eyes.
Anne breathes in, and breathes out, and decides something.
A survival strategy doesnât really matter if youâre going to die anyway.
âIâm scared,â she says honestly, letting the tears sheâs been holding in for so long finally fall.
Catherine nods, giving her a smile laced with worry. âI am too,â she replies softly.
It gets quiet again, but then thereâs a light knock on the door and Katherine comes in.
âAre you okay, Annie?â she asks, trembling a little bit as she stands in the doorway.
Anne shifts her position on the bed so Kitty can join them, gesturing for her to come closer, because she knows that Katherine does best when sheâs got some sort of grounding contact in these situations. So does Anne, honestly.
She never gives an answer to Katherineâs question, and neither does Parr or Jane, because the response is fairly obvious.
They sit together on Anneâs bed, two-thirds of Henryâs wives, trying not to fall apart.
#six#six the musical#six the musical fanfic#today is gonna hurt like a motherfucker#they're all leaving#face to the wind eyes to the sun#i'm just sad#but also happy for them#but also sad
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Chapters: 11/26(?) Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Dragon Age: Awakening Ensemble Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Blood Magic Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one shackled next to you, save for the chains that bound you both?
She didnât ask, Loriel would tell herself, after. She never asked.
But that was later, much later. For a long time, everything was fine.
After the bloody clearing, Loriel fell into her work the way one might fall down the stairsânot all at once, but once the process had begun, it became almost impossible to stop.
It was almost like being back in Kinloch. She spent all day surrounded by stone, studying magic. Only now it was on her own terms, something she was doing because she wanted to. Her freedom looked an awful lot like her prison, but it didnât matter what it looked like. What mattered was what it was.
And of course she still had Yvanne.
Most days she woke later than she liked, with the whole morning having slipped away from her. The guilt of having done that was enough to rattle her out of any desire for breakfast, so she would go without. She would spend the day at her work, following one idea and then another. It went intolerably slow. Sometimes she couldnât tell if an experiment had failed because her idea was bad, or because sheâd done something wrong. It was just so hard to do this alone. But asking Yvanne to help was unthinkable (though she had promised, hadnât she? She had promised to help.)
And when she could no longer stand going back and forth with herself about whether her ideas or her methods were bad, she would go back to her bedchambers. Yvanne would be there, along with a dinner in any possible condition between âslightly cooledâ and âstone cold and beginning to curdle.â They would talk, or rather, Yvanne would talk. Loriel would nod along and eat her congealing meal, hardly tasting it. Her mind would be on the project sheâd abandoned downstairs, churning with ideas for new ways to try it, if maybe she should return to an earlier form, if maybe she was struggling fruitlessly and Avernus had figured it out decades ago and it would have been faster simply to ask him.
Yvanne would finish telling her about her day, and ask her about hers, and Loriel would shrug and report that it had been pretty uneventful, really. Just work. And theyâd maybe break out an aged bottle of red, and go to bed, and have sex, and afterwards Loriel would lie awake and think of blight and blood and spirit, and eventually, often when the dawn rays were already beginning to break over the horizon, she would sleep.
And then it would begin again. And again. And again.
â
Her library grew, as she requisitioned books from distant libraries, or else copied treatises herself. Her quantity of notes multiplied precipitously, until she could no longer easily keep track of them herselfâand it wasnât as though she could hire an assistant. Nobody else could understand her shorthand, anyway.
Letters from Avernus werenât frequent, but always illuminating. Rarest of all were cryptic scrawls coming from the Architect. These generally raised more questions than they answered. She wondered if he wrote them himself, or if Utha or Seranni scribed for him. Perhaps Velanna would recognize her sisterâs handwriting if she saw itâbut Loriel never showed her. The thought of going out and talking to people, of being seen by them, turned her stomach.
She still had the opaque black crystal the Architect had delivered to her with Velanna. It had seemed so exciting at first, like it was surely the answer to everything. But the longer she tried to puzzle out its secrets the less she understood it. The rare times she had contact with the Architect, he was less than helpful. He kept assuming that she knew all sorts of things that she didnât. When she asked in writing, his response WOULD explain the parts she already thought were obvious. Useless. Avernus, being nearly two centuries old, was bad enough, but the Architect was not old but ancient, and his humanity was further behind him.
She left the crystal on her desk, until looking at it made her sick with anger at herself. Then she shoved it in a drawer where she couldnât see it anymore.
Probably she would have made more progress if she kept things better organized, but sheâd never needed to be particularly organized before, and now she had no idea how to do it. Nobody had ever taught it to her. Every time it occurred to her that today would be the day she put things in order, it only took a minute of looking around at the mess for her to despair and give up.
It was pathetic. It wasnât as though sheâd never done original magical research before, but the Calling was another beast altogether. There were so many moving parts, and the more she learned the more confused she got. She needed a break, but a break simply wasnât possible.
Because the clock was ticking. Every day she didnât understand the Calling was another day that the unthinkable might happen. That one of them might begin to hear the song.
Alistair had said thirty years, but that had been at most thirty years. And even if the average was twenty, twenty-five, that didnât mean it couldnât be as few as five, for some people. Was it written down somewhere, how long each Warden lasted before the Calling claimed them? Where would she find such a document, if it was?
Yvanne still had awful darkspawn dreams. Did that mean she was more vulnerable to the Blight than other Wardens? Did that mean the Calling would come to her sooner? Did sooner mean twenty years rather than thirtyâor as few as five? How much time did they have?
What made one person vulnerable to the Blight, and another one hardy to it? What made one person survive the Joining, and another one perish? What made one personâs blood different from anotherâs?
Or was it in the blood at all? Maybe it was something else. Some quality of the spirit, the same thing that made some children mages and spared others, perhaps. What made spirits different? Maybe Justice would have known, but Justice was gone. Justice was gone because of her. She and Yvanne pretended like it was because of Anders, but really it was because of her. Anders was gone because of her, too. What a farce. What a ridiculous, ugly farce. It was a wonder Yvanne didnât hate her. It was all such a wonder, the fact that they still loved each other, such a wonder. It made her exhausted.
But what else was she going to do, with the time left to her? This was all she was good at.
Deathâs child could do this one thing. She couldnât do everything that was asked of her, not even most things. But maybe she could do this. Just this one thing. Just this one.
â
The thing about their arguments was that they really werenât all that frequent. Most of the time they got along fine. Most of the time they lay down together, and rose up together, and kissed each other fondly. And it was not the most exciting of all possible lives, but wasnât that what theyâd fought for? Most days, when she was with Yvanne, Loriel could half-believe herself happy.
The problem was that it was always the same argument.
Yvanne would drink too much, and Loriel wouldnât say anything, because it wasnât her place. Yvanne would always do exactly what Yvanne wanted, and all attempts to prevent her would be ultimately fruitless. It still put Loriel on edge. So every time Yvanne brought it upâshe only did it when she was drunkâLoriel was already on edge, so who could fault her for reacting the way she did?
âWe could leave all this behind,â Yvanne would say. It was what she always said, as though wheedling would do it, as though she could wear her down. And usually Loriel would demure and conciliate. Sheâd always been so good at it.
But today she lost her temper. âThat is not an option,â she snapped. âIâm not like you. I donât give up on things.â
As soon as she said it she held her breath, waiting to see Yvanne draw back in hurt and offense. But instead she just rolled her eyes.
âThatâs not even true,â Yvanne said. âYouâve given up on lots of things. Youâve given up on almost everything.â
Loriel stiffened. âJust what, exactly, have I given up on?â
Yvanne made a broad, flicking gesture around the room. âWhat havenât you given up on?â She started counting off on her fingers. âThe rest of the world. This Keep. Everyone we ever knew.â
Her mind went instantly to Anders. You gave up on him, too, Â she thought poisonously. Faster than I did. But Yvanne wasnât done.
âYou know you keep accusing me of running away,â she said sardonically. âBut notice how Iâm still here. I stayed. I never ran, I always stayed with you. It was always, only, ever, you.â
You wanted to run, though, Loriel thought. You wanted to.
âAll I ever wanted was a home in the world, with you,â Yvanne said. Sheâd said it before. Many times. âBut youâre not with me.â
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â Loriel said, exasperated. It was a lie. âI havenât gone anywhere.â
âYou have, though.â
No more than you have, she thought. It was almost as though Yvanne didnât see her at all, when she looked at her. What did she see?
âAll I ever wanted was to be with you,â Yvanne repeated distantly. âThere wasnât room for anything else.â
But I am with you! She had to say it out loud, but her throat was so tight. She had to say it. She had to. If she could justâ âBut I am with you,â she echoed. âIâm here. Iâm not gone.â
âNot yet.â Yvanne put her hands over her face. âMaker, Iâm so afraid. All the time Iâm afraid.â
A cold pit of ice dropped into Lorielâs stomach. This was not a standard part of The Argument. âAfraid. Youâre afraid of me.â Was it so shocking? Everyone else was afraid of her. She had made herself frightening. She had done it on purpose.
Yvanneâs head snapped up. â Of you? You bloody idiotâIâm afraid for you! Iâm afraid Iâm going to walk in on you in a pool of your own blood and wonât be able to bring you back. Iâve researched so many advanced healing spells, just in case, but it might not end up mattering. You canât bring back the dead.â
âIâm not going to die,â Loriel scoffed. âNot any time soon, anyway.â
âYou canât know that.â
As many as thirty? As few as five?
âI know it as much as anyone can know anything,â she retorted. âI know what Iâm doing. Iâm not taking any undue risks.â
âNow thatâs rich!â Yvanne said scornfully. âThat might be the boldest thing youâve ever said to me.â
Now that got under Lorielâs skin. What right did she have to say that? And to say it as though it was self-evident. As though Loriel were simply being obstinate in not acknowledging it. As though it were anyoneâs business but her own what she did with her own life and her own body.
âYou donât own me,â she said, too harshly. âI own me.â
âWasnât saying I did,â Yvanne muttered.
âNo, I rather think you were,â Loriel said icily. âIt isnât what you said, but it is what you meant.â
Yvanne huffed, threw her hands up slightly. âExcuse me for suggesting that people with lives as tangled up together as ours might owe each other something!â
Then maybe they shouldnât have gotten so tangled.
âAnd I owe you what, exactly?â she said instead. âTo do with myself as you will, simply because you donât trust me?â
Yvanne took a long time to respond. Then, quietly, âI donât often ask you for things. But Iâm asking you for this. Please.â
Loriel wanted to ask her what in the Maker-forsaken void she was talking about. Did Yvanne think Loriel would be any different outside the comfortable confines of Vigilâs Keep? Did she think the poison was in the flagstones?
For a brief moment she considered it. Abandoning her work, come what may. The Calling would take them some day, and she would never know which dayâonly that when it took one of them, it would take them both.
She thought about the great wide worlds, its endless sky, its infinite varieties. It choked her with its vastness. Who would she be out there?
âNo,â she said eventually. âNo, Iâm sorry. I canât do that.â
âRight,â Yvanne muttered, in the tone that meant the argument was over. It was the answer sheâd been expecting. âCourse you canât.â
Loriel shrugged helplessly. She couldnât. She was sorry, she was. But she really, really couldnât.
â
Her newest idea was to test everything on rats. Surely it would have better results than trying to recreate the Blight in a glass vial. The Wardens had a vial of Archdemon blood, which had to be added dropwise to darkspawn blood, along with a dozen other things, to function in the Joining. She could infect the rats, and study them, try to cure them. She would regret their deaths, but it would all be worth it in the end.
A part of her knew she didnât understand the Blight well enough to even bother with the rats. But she was so tired of failing. After all, Avernus had most of his success with live subjects.
Catching the rats was the hard part, requiring an elaborate series of paralysis glyphs and sense crystals. Then there was the matter of keeping them contained, fed, and watered. She spent weeks figuring out some way to manage the rats, all the time her mind wandering, such that the work of a few hours stretched into a full week.
In the end it didnât matter. All the rats she infected with Blight died right away, and she didnât know why. Had she miscalculated the dose? Were rats fundamentally different from people, in some way? But animals could be blighted, so that couldnât be the case. Could one of the lower animals be made into a broodmother? Could rat-darkspawn be created?
The thought of trying to get more rats to try and find out was more than she could bear. She sat splayed in her chair, wondering if perhaps she could find a breeding pair and have them produce offspring for her, but in order to make that work she would need to figure out some kind of accelerated growth spell. It was surely doable, in theory, but it would involve creation magic, a field she knew nearly nothing about.
(Yvanne knew about creation magic. Yvanne had promised to help her with this, once. She had promised.)
So she abandoned the idea entirely, and returned to glass vials. Months of effort, wasted.
She sat back in her chair, closed her eyes. Tired. So tired.
You donât have to do this, Yvanne had said. Iâm doing this for you, Loriel had said. So many times she had said that.
And it was true. It was! She was doing this for her, for the both of them. For all the Wardens. For all the people of Thedas. Because she was the Hero of Ferelden, and a piss-poor one at that, and she owed this to them. And to her Wardens. And to Yvanne, and to herself.
It was true. Wasnât it? It was. It was! She was doing this for her. For everyone, but really just for the two of them. Who gave a damn about anyone else? The world had turned its back on them, over and over. Loriel had struggled so hard to save them, and were they grateful? They werenât. Was it so wrong to want to do something for the one she loved?
(If Yvanne really loved her she would have been grateful. If she really loved her she would have supported her. If she really loved her she would have been able to seeâ)
â
That year had been a late winter followed by an early summer, and Loriel nearly missed the whole spring.
Months later (who knew how many). The same argument.
Yvanne had said: How do you think I feel?
How you feel, Loriel thought scornfully. âHow you feel!â she said, not nearly as scornfully. âItâs always about you, somehow. Always about Yvanne and what Yvanne wants and how I can give it to her, thatâs always been the story. Maybe if you really loved meââ
She broke off. That wasnât fair. It wasn't fair and it wasn't true. Yvanne loved her. Loriel loved her back. That much was true. That was the one eternal constant of the universe.
It wasnât fair and it wasn't true, and when Loriel could think straight she remembered it. But she was so tired, so exhausted that the world bent and twisted before her eyes and she couldn't tell truth from darkspawn blood.
She pinched the bridge of her nose . âIâm...Iâm sorry. Iâm not thinking straight. I didnât mean that.â
Yvanne seemed to soften. More than anything Loriel ached for comfort. Not even magic. A touch would do. She was reminded of the time at Redcliffe, when she had first done blood magic, and all she had wanted was reassurance that everything could be alright. Yvanne hadnât given it then.
âYouâre right. You arenât thinking straight,â she said, not giving it now. âSo let me know when you are.â
Usually at this point Loriel would storm off in a huff to go work, and in a few hours she would come back and everything would be forgiven. Because that was what love was about, wasnât it? It was about pain. It was about forgiveness despite the pain. It was about the choice to love and forgive and forget the pain. But this time it was Yvanne who managed to storm away first, except she didnât storm. She walked calmly and closed the door quietly, not in anger, but resignation. Loriel was left alone in their chambers, the last place where they still shared a life.
(Maybe if you really loved meâ)
No, that wasnât true, Yvanne loved her. ( But she couldnât see her anymore .)
Loriel needed to sit down, but there were so many articles of clothing on the nearest chair that she sat on the bed (their well-used bed, that had so delighted her when this had all begun) instead. And even sitting took too much energy, so she lay back. Maybe she could sleep for a while. Just a little while, so she could think straight.
But sleep didnât come. Her racing thoughts were wide awake, and hungry, and had no pity for her.
She had always been afraid that she wasnât good enough for beautiful, vivacious, lovely Yvanne. That one of these days Yvanne was going to figure it out and leave her. For a long time sheâd been holding her breath, waiting for the blow.
But maybe that wasnât it. Maybe it wasnât that she wasnât good enough for Yvanne. Maybe it was that she was just all wrong for her ( wrong wrong wrong, it slithered through her mind like crawling worms in the dirt), maybe they only fit together at all because theyâd grown together like the intertwining roots of trees. She thought of vines twisted together so tightly they had fused ( parasites, living off each other, sucking the life out of each other, unable to survive any other way)
Now theyâd traded the Circle for the Wardens. And love born of terror, perpetuated in bondage, what was that worth?
What did they have in common, anyway? Their whole lives. Their magic. What else?
She stared into the darkness, wishing she knew some spell to end all thought.
(What else? What else? What else?)
â
It wasnât about the blood. It was about the sacrifice.
In that sense, to call it blood magic was a misnomer.
You canât get something for nothing. This was the oldest rule in the book, from back before there were books, before writing, before language. It was as simple as anything, and it was as true of entropy magic as of blood magic.
Loriel knew all about entropy. The rule of entropy was this: you canât get something for nothing.
That was why it was impossible to draw her own blood, store it, restore herself, and use it later. Blood stored in a vial, divorced from the pain and loss it had caused, had no power. The blood itself was inert. It was the pain that mattered.
She had to suffer. It had to be this way. It could never have been any other way.
Life was pain. It wasnât all pain. But it was pain, sure enough. And pain was life, for only living things could suffer. For every sting of the blade, she knew herself to be alive. Here she was in the depths of the underground, nearer to the deep roads (the darkspawn) than to the sunlight, but while she hurt she lived.
Yvanne didnât understand that. Yvanne was a healer. She didnât understand the necessity of pain. She never had.
But you canât get something for nothing. That was the rule. (Loriel knew all about rules. She had always been so good at following the rules. So, so good, and what had it gotten her?)
Her current project involved attempts to refine blight from bloodâher own, a darkspawnâs, and an archdemonâs. Each Warden-Commander was entrusted with a vial of Archdemon blood, a single drop of which was used in the Joining cup. Loriel had it here, a measly quantity of it. It ought to have been refilled when Urthemiel had fallen, but nobody had been there to tell her to take its blood. She hadnât known she was supposed to do that, and now here she was wasting the small quantity she had away on her useless experiments. (But that could be a good thing, that could mean that when she used it all up there would be no more Wardens and if there were no Wardens that meant there was no Warden-Commander and if there was no need for a Warden-Commander then Loriel couldâgo where? Do what?)
She wanted to understand what made Wardenâs blood different from darkspawn blood, and what made both of them different from archdemonâs blood. She had for days now been heating, distilling, refluxing, heating again, countless hours spent staring at glassware full of the murky stuff, ( half-wondering what it would feel like to take the vials and smash them on the table and feel the shards of glass in her skin ), because surely it couldnât be a matter of mere concentration. Darkspawn were not Wardens with more Blight inside them. And Archdemons were something different entirely.
Why were all the archdemons dragons? What did dragons have to do with Blight? But no, not dragonsâold gods. But why were the old gods in the form of dragons? The Chantry would say that they were false gods of no significance, but even if that were true, why would beings clearly much more powerful than mere animals take those forms? Urthemiel had been the god of beauty; the Architect had been his high priest. Loriel had slain Urthemiel. She had driven a swordâ
( she barely knew how to use it, it should have been Yvanne, it should have been her, none of this was meant for her, that was why she was down here in the dark, because she had taken what rightfully ought to have been somebody elseâs, because she had transgressed, and now she was being rightfully punished )
âthrough its skull. She remembered how its bones had cracked. It had already been most of the way to dead by the time she finished it off. Sheâd hardly contributed to its killing at all.
(sheâd picked up the sword, nearly as long as she was tall, because she happened to be nearby, it had just happened, she hadnât meant toâ)
Did the Architect know that? Did he know she had slain his god? Did he still regard the archdemon to be his god? It was no more corrupted than he was. (Would that be Lorielâs fate? Was that the fate of every Warden, to someday become the monsters they fought? What was the difference between them and the monsters, anyway? That wasnât so bad. Sheâd been a monster all her life, what would be the difference?)
The bright blade bit into her scarred skin. The veins there were weakening. She would have to pick a new place to cut, soon. Her blood ran hot and warm down her skin. Loriel incanted. Nothing happened.
(What was the Architectâs name? What had he looked like? Who had he been when he had been a man?)
She changed the words of the incantation, then the pronunciation. She changed how she held her fingers. She cast again and again. Nothing happened.
(He deserved it though, thatâs what he got, for breaking the rules. Rule-breakers had to be punished, that was the rule. Thatâs what he, what she deserved. Thatâs what she deserved, for expecting something for nothing.)
Her blood clotted and the flow stopped. It still hurt, but was that enough? No, it wasnât, she could tell. The pain was necessary but not sufficient. She needed to bleed to cast spells like this, or else theyâd always fail, and sheâd have no one but herself to blame.
The knife bit into her flesh again.
(Yvanne didnât understand, of course she didnât, how could she?)
She didnât feel the knife slip from her numb fingers, and though she felt herself slipping, felt herself fall, by the time she hit the floor she had already slipped into something like sleepâbut not peace.
She dreamt herself in the Black City, wandering its winding streets and high towers. She knew only that she was desperately searching for somethingâsomeone?âthat she couldnât find. When she looked down at her hands they were claws, the bulging veins there black with the same Blight that ran through the gutters and oozed down the walls. It flooded the streets and rose higher and higher, up to her hips and shoulders, in her mouth and her eyes and over her head, and all was black.
â
Loriel woke slowly. First she became aware of her body and the bed it was lying in. At first she didnât notice anything unusual, and then she didâthe absence of pain. Nothing ached or throbbed or stung. She felt better than sheâd felt in many months. She was suffused with the vague sense that whatever dreadful thing had been happening, it was over now, if it had ever even happened. Perhaps it had only been a terrible dream.
For a while she let herself float peacefully in the dim twilight of half-sleep, aware enough to relish the glorious lack-of-pain. But finally she had no choice but to open her eyes, and remember everything.
Yvanne sat sleeping in the wooden chair besides the bed. Her cheek pressed against her shoulder, her chin on her chest. It looked singularly uncomfortable. Â Loriel wondered why sheâd sat there instead of getting into bed with her. She reached out and touched her gently on the elbow.
Yvanne started, her eyes flying open, then relaxing. There were dark circles under her eyes, and they were red-rimmed; sheâd been crying, but had stopped some hours ago, presumably when sheâd fallen asleep.
âYouâre awake,â she managed, âThatâs good.â
Loriel coughed hoarsely. Her throat was dry. âHow long was IâŠ?â
Yvanne glanced out the window. It was dark, with no trace of either daybreak or sunset. The candles were all extinguished, and all that illuminated the room was a trio of Fade-wisps fluttering around Yvanneâs head like a halo, casting her in an eerie greenish light. âI donât know. Most of a full day, I think.â
A glass of water stood on the bedside table. Loriel drained it, leaning on her elbow. She opened her mouth to ask what happened, and then closed it. Some of her memory was trickling back, as though after a hard night of drinking. You bloody idiot, Iâm afraid for you! Iâm afraid Iâm going to walk in on you in a pool of your own blood and wonât be ableâ
Instead she lay back. She knew better than to insult her by apologizing. The fact that she was even thinking of apologizing annoyed her. Iâm the one that almost died, and somehow I need to comfort her ?
Eventually Yvanne said, âHow do you feel?â
Loriel thought about it. âGood, actually,â she said. âBetter than Iâve been. Much better.â Whatever exact combination of healing spells and potions Yvanne had administered, it had really done the trick. She felt like she could think clearly for the first time in...she didnât even know how long. She was herself again.
She had the sudden traitorous thoughtâall along Yvanne could have helped her like this, and for whatever reason, she hadnât.
âThatâs good.â
What a funny path life took. Only a handful of years ago their positions had been reversed, and it had been Loriel sitting and fretting at the bedside, feeling helpless and afraid. She didnât feel helpless or afraid now. She just felt tiredâclear-eyed, but so tired.
âThank you.â
At that Yvanne couldnât take it anymore. She drew a rattled half-sob of a breath, and suppressed a hiccup. ââ Thank youâ? What was I supposed to do, leave you there?â
It occurred to Loriel how exhausted Yvanne looked. Not just tired, but...older. It could have been only the flickering Fade-light, butâsome of the lines on her face looked new. Were they really new, or had Loriel just not been paying attention? Would she have turned to her, years down the road, and been surprised to see an aged face looking back at her?
All at once the guilt crashed over her, so intense it made her nauseous.
It would have been easier if sheâd loved her any less.
Did you love me for me , she thought, or because there was no one else? And that thought hurt.
Then she thought, did I love you for you? And that thought hurt much worse.
âLoriel, IâŠâ Yvanne swallowed, staring at her laced fingers between her knees. âLoriel, I canât do this anymore. Something has to change.â
Youâre right, Loriel thought, deciding. It does.
She struggled into a sitting position, and then realized it wasnât much of a struggle. She was only stiff from sleeping so long. She scooted out of bed and found herself shivering in only a billowing nightgown. She didnât have to look long for her robe; Yvanne had put it in the top drawer of the northmost chest of drawers. Her feet were cold on the stone floor, but she could live with that.
She went to her desk, rummaged for parchment and ink and quill. It was really more Yvanneâs desk these days, and she kept it in order. She stood as she wrote; the document would not need to be long. It only required her signature, and her seal.
âDo you know where my signet ring is?â Loriel asked.
âUpper right drawer,â Yvanne said automatically. She hadnât spoken or moved, had only watched Loriel move about the room with uncertain eyes.
She found the ring. âThank you.â Sealing wax lay in the same container, dark burgundy stuff; blue was more fitting for the Warden-Commander, but red would do. She dripped the wax onto the bottom of the document and pressed her ring into it, leaving an impression of the double-headed griffon symbol of the Wardens. The ink had had time to dry while sheâd fumbled with the wax.
She read over what she wrote, once, twice, thrice, just to make sure. But her mind was clear, and short of letting it sit overnightânot an optionâshe was sure sheâd covered all her legal bases.
Yvanne finally rose. âLoriel?â she said hesitantly. âWhat is that?â
Loriel rolled up the parchment and handed it to her before she had a chance to lose her nerve.
âIt is a legal document, signed and sealed by the lawfully appointed Warden-Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine, and Lady of Soldierâs Peak,â said Loriel. âIt states that Warden-Lieutenant Yvanne Amell is abroad on official Grey Warden business of highest priority, and that any attempts to impede her free movements will be met with swift reprisal by the Grey Wardens of Ferelden and the Ferelden Crown. And thereâs some more legal jargon at the bottom if you want to review that.â She raised her chin. âI canât promise it will keep you safe from anything out there, far from it, but it should make public life as a mage on her own a much easier prospect.â
I canât do this anymore, Yvanne had said. It was her favorite gambit. It meantâ Iâm doing as Iâve decided. Do whatever you want, but my course is set. Most times in their life it had been a bluffâuntil Amaranthine.
Well, no more.
âI donât...what?â Yvanne looked at the parchment, then at her. âI donât understand.â
âThatâs just it, isnât it?â Loriel said tiredly. âYou donât understand. And you never will.â
She knew it for the truth as she said it. For the nearly twenty years that they had known each other, for all the things they shared, for all that they had walked within each other's very souls, Yvanne would never understand. What did Yvanne know about darkness, about decay? Yvanne grew gardens and built castles in the sky, content to pretend that the world ( their bodies (them)) werenât falling apart. Yvanne would never understand Loriel, and Lorielâit had become now blindingly obviousâwould never understand Yvanne.
Loriel would never understand Yvanne, and she was tired of trying.
For an endless, awful moment they stood suspended in time. Yvanne stared at the parchment, the wheels in her head turning and creaking as it dawned on her, the full significance of what Loriel meant. In that long moment, it dawned on Loriel, too, the magnitude of it. She was standing on a shore, beholding a massive wave rising up to swallow all that she knew, and it had not crashed down on her head yet, but it would, any second now, it would.
âAre you telling me to go?â Yvanne said. Just to make sure. Just in case sheâd misunderstood.
Ask me to come with you, Loriel thought then, desperately, as though that was going to save them. If she only asked, Lorielâs resolve would break, and she would have said yes. She would have followed her to the ends of the earth, if only because the prospect of living without her had now become terrifyingly real.
But Yvanne didnât ask.
She didnât ask, Loriel would tell herself later. She never asked.
Loriel would remember for the rest of her life the sight of Yvanne clutching the parchment and tearing out of the room. Loriel didnât know why she would go after thisâonly that it would be far away, and that she was unlikely to ever see her again. Because she understood as well as Loriel did, what this meant for themâthat the farce was finally over, the soap-bubble of their shared dreams well and truly popped. As it had always been destined to be.
For Lorielâs basic nature was that of entropy, and that meant she understood the nature of all things was to, eventually, cease. Every mechanism must someday wind down, and every life must eventually extinguish, and every love must eventually fizzle. You could run and run and run, but entropy would always get you in the end. Loriel had tried denying it, had tried cheating it, but it was no good.
Because you couldnât get something for nothing. That was what Yvanne couldnât seem to understand.
And that was why it had to be this way. That was why it had to end.
#dragon age#dragon femslash#amell#surana#dragon age: awakening#please read my wizard lesbian fanfiction
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The Chosen: All the notes and answers to shit you wondered about for years
Hey. Hi there. How are you? Iâm good, thanks for asking.
So, you remember when, at the beginning of the year, I said I was officially retiring my Buffy the Vampire Slayer continuation, The Chosen? If this is the first youâre hearing of it, a) SORRY TO DROP THAT ON YOU, and b) you may want to read this post first.
All caught up? Awesome.
I told you guys Iâd share my stuff. This right here is that. Iâve searched through countless backups, terabytes of data, the remnants of three computers, AND MY SOUL (not really my soul; it doesnât have a convenient find option), and I think this is everything. If thereâs anything left of The Chosen that isnât contained here, then itâs almost certainly lost to time and I wave it a fond farewell.
But donât worry. Thereâs a lot here.
What I have for you are all the notes, plans, and ideas that I had written during the time when The Chosen was pretty much my entire world. From late 2003 to mid 2005, I was on my Buffy creative shit, and OH THE PLACES I WANTED TO GO. Iâm not sure Iâll ever not be sad that, in the end, I couldnât do it the way I wanted. Still, Iâm glad to finally be showing you where we were heading.
Iâll try to give this as much order as I can, but my notes were strewn across a mass of files, and in some cases, I straight up canât remember what the fuck I even meant any more. Feel free to ask if you have questions! Just be prepared that the answer may have to be an apologetic shrug.
Iâm not sure what to wish for you all in the reading here. Closure, of some kind, I suppose is what weâre really all after. So closure it is! Happy closing, friends.
Thank you so much for allowing me to have captured your interest and attention, and for accompanying me and these characters I loved on the journey toward the ending I hoped for them.
** Any comments from present-me will be marked in this format. Otherwise, everything is untouched from how I wrote it whenever-the-fuck ago. Section headers are either as I named them at the time, or taken from the file name.
S8 Ideas
General Ideas
Rogue Slayer girl ' 'Full Circle'; Faith-centric.
Possessing demons ' personification of control ' W&K breakup episode.
Xander gets powers, but in exchange for his humanity. Comes to realize that his humanity is what his friends need, and he gives up the power.
Dawn's key powers are reawakened ' ability to unlock and enter doorways to parallel dimensions/realities and back again. Episode where this happens and she visits a parallel world (where she is the Slayer?). Possibly triggered by Doc, seeking to reawaken Glory?
Monster that eats body parts to rejuvenate them.
Emotion sucker.
Incubus that tries to seduce Buffy in her dreams.
Siren/rock group ' playing in club.
Faith/Buffy/other Slayers hunted for sport.
Super Slayer, enhanced by the DC. Big Bad? Guinea pig.
Legion of Super Slayers, created from life force of girls who reject the offer to join the DC.
Things to Name and Figure Out
The name of the new town.
New town is in center of three-Hellmouth triangle, consisting of Cleveland, Ohio, Syracuse, NY, and Washington DC. The gang is settled in a fictitious town in Pennsylvania, not far from Williamsport.
Name derived from three? Trinity, Trillium, etc.
The name of the Bronze replacement. (The Vortex?)
The name (and personality) of Kennedy's new Watcher.
The name (and personality) of the turncoat (the girl Giles talks to in Ep #1)
The name (and personality) of the girl Faith recruits (future cannon fodder)
Better name for the Dark Council.
Better name for the Dark Coven.
Assorted Ideas and Quotes
Scene: Someone shopping at a local bulk warehouse place. How much to Slayers eat? A LOT.
Possible use for the drug from "Helpless" that neutralizes Slayer powers?
Scene: Junior Slayers fighting monster. One says "You ARE the weakest link... Goodbye!" The others make fun of her for using such an outdated pop culture reference. She pouts that they should add a class about banter to the Slayer curriculum.
QUOTE: "D'you ever think sometime we should, you know, run AWAY from the blood curdling screams?"
QUOTE: Buffy doubts Tara's return. Willow: "What, you hold exclusive resurrection rights?"
QUOTE: Tara and Dark Coven guy. Tara: "She'll kill me. After I do this...Buffy will kill me." DC: "After you do this, will you care?"
QUOTE: "Excessive? I think you and excessive have already met in a head-on collision and exchanged insurance information."
QUOTE: Tara talking about doing stuff with Dawn: "You know, shopping, getting our hair done ... girl things." Willow: "I like your girl things."
QUOTE: Someone's sick, but denying it. They cough, get an accusing glance. "I just have something stuck in my throat." "Yeah, it's called ILLNESS."
QUOTE: Faith to somebody, possibly a young Slayer, who goes on at length about what they're going to do to a bad guy or deal with some serious challenge or something similar. "You're full of crap, you've got no idea what you're talking about. (beat) But you mean what you say, so that's gotta count for something."
Notes
1st ep
fate of SS's
Dawn's powers
X taking Watcher's courses
G distancing
W going to grad school
B/T going back to school
prophecy bits
G gets ring
Buffy bit - blood
Ante released
Season 9 Ideas
based on 7 samurai - group of people want to come in and hire the seven to clean something out
something happens where buffy or dawn disappears and the other goes to find them
core four have notoriety as evil forces (four horsemen) with some other community
sdhs reunion episode
"Demon that draws strength from guilt, hate, love, etc. Especially bad if it gets hold of Faith..."
---
I had a really cool thought about Buffy and relationships while I was in there though, which I think I'll have to work into The Chosen.
A common thread in each of her big relationships (Angel, Riley, Spike) is that when she tells them she loves them, they don't believe her.
Well Angel does, but he doesn't think she loves him enough. When he leaves, it's despite her telling him over and over that she loves him enough that him being a vampire and them not being able to do "normal" things doesn't matter. He doesn't believe her, and so leaves.
Riley tells Buffy during their big pre-him-leaving fight, that when she says she loves him, he "doesn't feel it". His disbelief in her and her words causes him to leave.
Then there's Spike. Final episode, Buffy finally tells him that she loves him. "No you don't. But thanks for saying it." And then he dies.
At this point in Buffy's life, there are a lot of reasons why Buffy wouldn't want a relationship in my opinion. But not the least of which is the fact that she MUST be able to answer the question of why none of these guys she loves ever believe her? (Even if you don't think she did love Spike, to Buffy I doubt that would matter -- HE didn't believe her EITHER [and how dare he not believe me, by the way!]).
It's a concept I just managed to sort out (in the shower, of course), and I don't think it's an "obvious" connection, but I do think it's an extremely valid one. I think before I'm done, I'll have to work this into the story somehow. And not resolve it, because I don't think it's easily resolved, and I think it's an issue outside the scope of what I'm trying to do, but I think the issue should be raised.
Season 9 Episode Ideas
Episode where everybody speaks in rhymes. Possible reintroduction for Faerie character?
De-aging episode, Giles' 50th birthday. Courtesy of Ethan Rayne. ("Many Happy Returns"?) Zaps Giles, Willow, Buffy and Xander back to four or five or so, leaving Tara, Faith and Dawn to look after them.
Episode dealing with the murderers in the group: Faith, Willow and Giles. Finch's son/daughter hunts down Faith to (confront? get revenge?) for his death. Sub-plots for Willow/Warren and Giles/Ben. Interesting to note that Faith is the only one who has ever shown any regret for her murder.
Herculean labors parallel. Xander? ("Labor Day"?)
Seven deadly sins with each main character embodying one of the sins? The one least like themselves?
Buffy: Greed
Willow: Sloth
Xander: Pride
Giles: Envy
Tara: Wrath
Dawn: Lust
Faith: Gluttony
Some other Slayer in the past, fighting an enemy that arises today. The gang have to read through the old Watcher's diaries to learn about him and how she defeated it. Shows this old Slayer and her Watcher via flashback. Maybe our Big Bads?
The characters get sent into Faerie Tales where they're forced to sort of act out the tales they're in.
Inanimate creation of some sort (puppet like) who makes other inanimate objects come to life. Specifically mannequins, by switching them out for real people. Some Scoobies, of course, fall victim to this.
Xander getting set up on blind dates. Amusing segment where Xander explains to date after date about what happened to his eye, each reason becoming more and more outlandish. Finally he just gives up and tells the truth - "It was gouged out by a crazy preacher man." The date laughs: "You're so funny!" Could end with Xander getting fixed up with the girl we introduced in S8 and possibly have seen a few times since then - Xander's love interest.
Revisit ideas: nameless, faceless army for the good guys, what are we doing with our army?
Tara dealing with family issues. Why am I back? Madrigan as new father.
Banan the collector
Alt world where Core4 seen like 4 horsemen (Title: "The Four"?)
Conversation where some characters are guessing who would've been the next successor to the Slayer line.
"Other side" episode with dead characters
Buffy/Dawn ep about Buffy's role in Dawn's life. Seeing the others intreract with her, wondering what her place is in Dawn's life. Parallel with flashbacks about VS and her sister. Starts with Buffy finding Grip and Dawn making out, leads to Buffy giving Dawn "the talk" and failing miserably. ("Sometimes, after you and a guy ...... they CHANGE.") Dawn learns nothing, goes to Tara from there, who knows nothing about having sex with a guy, but is supportive and encouraging. Buffy overhears and then begins to try to find how she fits into Dawn's life. We learn at the end that although B/D are vastly different from the VS and her sis, the bond is still just as strong.
Willow (and Tara) meeting up with Willow's parents again.
Big Bads
Vampires, return to the simpler times a bit. Not apocalyptic, but personal. Female vamp with a real mad-on for Buffy. Pissed because Buffy failed to save her? Also possibly some sort of vampire army. Fem is a modern-day Sun Tzu, right hand to this guy in charge of everything.
Addition (3Jul04): After some discussion, we're leaning toward making the femvamp a Slayer who was turned waaaay the heck back when. Possibly held or captured by some other vampire later on in life, and she was released by the head of the army, thus earning her allegiance. Maybe she's Japanese and thus very honourable? If we take her from 1600 or 1700's Japan, that might work out well. Might also give added weight to why her soul has no bearing on halting her quest for vengeance - honor demands that her sister's death be avenged. Possible imagery: maybe she was tortured by whoever held her? The mental image of big ol' cross scar over her eye is intriguing.
Season 9 Episode Chart
Notes
Need to work out (soon!) everybody's hell stuff so it can be incorporated into earlier episodes.
Willow versus hacker vamp idea. Why? What's at stake? Possible fill for humour ep at 9x16?
Corollary: Replot Willow's arc through S9 and possibly into S10.
Get new prophecy for Giles.
Work in at least one other prophecy stanza this season. Important to figure out soon. Who, when, how?
** This was a chart which doesnât translate well to Tumblr, so Iâll break the cells apart and show column separation with ||
Updated - 22 June 2005
Ep # || Monster/Conflict || Plot Developments || Focus
9x01 || Vamps || Buffy kills Hitakno || Group
9x02 || Dante || Faith comes home || Faith
9x03 || Slone || Sunnydale HS reunion in LA || Group
9x04 || Vamps/Demons || Yuugana arrives in Trillium, Xander quits the Council || Xander
9x05 || Belastung || Tara goes home. || Tara
9x06 || Ethan || Giles birthday, Scoobies regressed  || Giles
----------------- NOT YET AIRED -----------------
9x07 || Slayer || Demon girl on run from Slayer. Buffy and Slayer at moral odds. Dawn key powers awaken fully. || Buffy/Dawn
9x08 || Amy || Amy cashes in on Willow's debt. (Fake) Buffy accompanies. || Willow
9x09 || D'Hoffryn || Xander makes a wish that Anya hadn't died. || Xander
9x10 || The Furies || The Furies drive Finch's child to revenge. While they're here, they decide to spread the love. || Faith/Giles
9x11 || ??? || Funny episode - Camping trip? || Group(??)
9x12 || Yuugana || Faith visits Hazel's parents (Xander accompanies). Upon return to Trillium, is attacked and nearly killed by Yuugana. || Faith/Xander
9x13 || Yuugana/General || Sister's parallel. Buffy and Dawn, Yuugana and Hitanko. Yuu's backstory. General arrives, drains Willow and Dawn. || Yuugana/Buffy
9x14 || Yuugana/General || Buffy insists that the gang re-ensoul Yuugana. They do so; it makes no difference. Buffy attacked, put in coma. || Buffy/Group
9x15 || Antediluvian || In an effort to save Buffy, Tara, Xander, Dawn and Kennedy go in search of Ruth, and the Antediluvian. || Tara/Group
9x16 || ??? || Funny episode - ??? || Willow(??)
9x17 || The General || The General's plans come to fruition. || Group
9x18 || Giles' Demon || A demon Giles thought defeated years ago comes back to continue their arrangement. || Giles
9x19 || 7 Sins || The Seven Sins are unleashed on the Scoobies. || Group
9x20 || The General/Yuugana || The General releases Yuugana and they formulate a new plan involving Dawn. Yuugana kills the General and takes Dawn as bait. || Group(?)
9x21 || Yuugana || Part 1. Yuugana takes Dawn into the Private Hell place where she was recently kept. The Scoobies must follow. || Group
9x22 || Yuugana || Part 2. The Scoobies fight their way through their personal hell. Buffy vs Yuugana. || Group
Original Chart
** âVSâ stands for âvampiric slayerâ, so Yuugana before she had a name.
Ep # || Monster/Conflict || Plot Developments || Focus
9x01 || Vamps || Buffy kills the VS's sister || Group
9x02 || Serial killer || Faith comes home??
9x03 || ?? || Sunnydale HS reunion in LA || ??/Group(?)
9x04 || ?? (vamps?) || VS arrives in Trillium || ??/Group(?)
9x05 || ?? || Tara goes home. VS denied immediate revenge. || Tara
9x06 || Amy || Amy collects on debt. Wants Will to help her get a book. || Â Willow/Buffy
9x07 || Ethan Rayne || Giles birthday/regression || Giles
9x08 || Doc || Dawn & Doc - Key powers fully awoken || Dawn
9x09 || Finch's child (furies?) || Murderers haunted by past || Faith (lesser: W, G)
9x10 || D'Hoffryn || Xander's wish (Anya) || Xander
9x11 || VS/?? || Sister's parallel episode || Buffy/Dawn
9x12 || Monster in woods || Camping trip (Tara and blade of grass) || Group
9x13 || VS || Buffy vs. VS -- VS ensouled, Buffy drained || Buffy
9x14 || VS minions(?) || Buffy injured. Group goes after Antediluvian || Tara/Group
9x15 || ?? || "Labor Day" (Kenn still around) || Xander
9x16 || artifact || 7 Deadly Sins || Group
9x17 || Computer Program || Willow and the computer program || Willow
9x18 || ?? || Faith visits Hazel's parents || Faith/Xander
9x19 || Demon || Demon that's possessed Giles. Comes every 10(?) years. || Giles
9x20 || General || Fight with General - General loses || Group
9x21 || Demon Dimension || Four Horsemen ("Four"?) [Abortive attempt by VS to separate Buffy from her strongest allies?] || B/W/X/G
9x22 || VS || Big battle -- Buffy vs. VS || Buffy/Group
Yuugana
need: how does Buffy come to believe what she does about Yuu? Conversation beforehand? Difficult. Why doesn't Yuu just kill her? Could make threat, but then Buffy is gambling with everyone, and makes no sense why Yuu nearly kills Buffy later. (Especially as threat will come when Buffy falls unconscious.)
Buffy must be able to draw conclusions ahead of time. Paint picture of Yuu that Buffy will be privvy to. Draw parallels b/w Buffy's life and Yuugana's life. Buffy will internalize.
NEED: When/How will gang find out that she is Yuugana? When will this name be dropped? How? May be good if we can draw General as being very, very powerful. They're afraid of him. Getting Yuu on their side would be huge in fighting him.
Idea: General nearly kills Dawn, draining key powers. Yuu saves her. Buffy thinks it is because Yuu knows what it's like to lose a sister. In truth, Yuu isn't ready for Dawn to die yet - that will be the most painful blow of all.
buffy believes -- utterly believes -- that Yuugana will be good if given her soul. Spike was good, Angel was good ... maybe all vampires can do good if given the chance? Who is she to be judge, jury and executioner?
Internalized: this could be me. What would I do if someone killed Dawn?
** I found two sets of Season 9 character arc notes. The first set are what I think what I was mainly working from, but Iâm not 100%.
Character Emotional/Plot Arcs â Season 9
Season Theme: Consequences
Buffy
Will be target of the Big Badâs wrath as a consequence of killing the BBâs sister early in the season. Buffyâs primary emotional arc will be in the realization that every action, even the most seemingly natural or inconsequential, has far-reaching repercussions, that affect not just Buffy but those she loves.
Willow
Willowâs emotional arc returns to one that was never resolved or given enough attention (or mangled thanks to magic=crack) â control issues. Throughout Willowâs history on BtVS, sheâs exhibited time and again a deep NEED to control the things around her. Her need for this never changed, save for her becoming so paranoid she was afraid to breath for fear of killing everyone in S7. Her catalyst for these deep-seeded emotional problems re-emerging stem from a few basic changes. 1) Taraâs back, and Willow doesnât think she can take losing her again. 2) The Big Bad has made things very, very personal. And Willow remembers only too well what happened last time a Big Bad vampire took things personal. 3) This Big Bad is smart. Really smart. In some ways, even smarter than Willow. And for all the enemies theyâve faced, Willâs never had to go against someone whoâs been able to out think her before. And she freaks.
Weâre going to have to be careful with this one, though, because we donât want a return to âWillow Uses Way Too Much Magickâ again. Weâre therefore going to have to find others ways in which Willow exercises that control trigger finger. Her computer skills could certainly help out to a degree, as well as her smarts, but weâre going to have to be careful. We definitely donât want a rehash of S6âs problems. Willow is â or very much should be â wiser than that now. And while Will has sort of always had a bad case of âthe ends justify the meansâ, we donât want a rehash. So care is needed.
We could help to show this by maybe having Willow do something like casting a really powerful protection spell that somehow backfires. What will be vitally important here is taking care to make it very clear that Willow isnât relying on magick for every little thing (no spells for decoration or closing curtains) ⊠the magick is simply her most powerful tool for keeping everyone safe. This should NOT be about black magick, but about a need for control.
NOTE (4Jul04): After discussions, will probably meld Will's character arc with the fact that Buffy and others (Tara and Giles probably excepted) don't fully appreciate or realize the pressures they put on Willow to come up with the answers and be the big gun, while simultaneously not wanting her to go too far. Magick is bad, except when they need it. They don't accept their own consequences for the actions they push her toward. This still feeds into Willow's character flaws above - her need to protect everyone, to be the best, to keep the nasty stuff at bay.
Xander
Xander, being the human element, will have the root of his emotional arc derive from one of the most basic of human desires: to live forever. Not in the biologically immortal sense, but by wanting to live on long after heâs died. Xander realizes that of all his friends, he is the one that history is least likely to remember. The odds on him being studied in school centuries from now are next to nothing. Buffy will be recalled as the worldâs most successful Slayer. Willow as the witch whose spell changed the world. Giles as the founder of the new Watcherâs Council (and new world order?) Any history mentioning Willow is almost guaranteed to include Tara as well. Dawn and her Key potential is fascinating and going to be mentioned ⊠but Xander? Thereâs nothing so remarkable about Xander, he feels, and thus begins his quest to somehow ensure his own immortality to history.
This might somehow be triggered by the emergence of a new sort of threat. With Slayers all over the world, thereâs absolutely no way that NOBODY is going to notice them. Even if people in the Buffyverse have shown time and again that theyâll simply ignore what they either canât or are unwilling to understand (gang related, PCP), not everybody is so willing to pull down the veil. Thus begins the emergence of a conspiracy theorist, someone who somehow has managed to trace his story to Slayer Central. In doing so, he somehow manages to put a level of importance on each of the Scoobies ⊠except Xander. Which stings.
Xander would eventually come to realize that while history may not remember him, those he loves certainly will, and when allâs said and done, thatâs enough for him.
Giles
Gilesâ arc will come out of an inevitability â his age. One of the earliest episodes will be reflecting on the fact that Giles is now 50. Heâs done such a good job with the Council that much of the bureaucracy continues without his direct involvement. Heâs not really keen on that side of things anyway, so heâs not sorry to see it go. But what he does want to do instead is get into the thick of things physically. But, unfortunately, he simply canât anymore, and itâs a lesson he very much doesnât want to learn. Giles will ultimately come to realize, however, that while he canât swing a sword to match the Slayer, what he DOES have is his incredible mind, which will certainly be put to great use in the confrontations with the Sun Tzu-like Big Bad. The fight could not be won without Gilesâ intellectual input.
Tara
Tara will spend much of her arc wondering about her place. When she was alive, she had some difficulty in fitting in. And it wasnât until just before her death that she really started to come into her own. A year and a half has passed now, however, and things and people have changed. Tara aspires to be more than just an extension of Willow, and as voiced in âFamilyâ, she wants very much to feel useful to the Scoobies.
But Taraâs need to find where she fits extends beyond simply within the Scoobs. Tara has a very definite sense of nature and balance, and her being brought back from the dead is something of an abhorrence to her. She canât quite shake the feeling that in order for her to have been brought back, something had to go out in her place to keep the balance. What that may have been disturbs her beyond words.
How exactly these issues become resolved is currently unclear. Tara should certainly remain the moral and emotional center of the Scoobies. She has more power now, but power was always Willowâs contribution, not Taraâs. On the death thing, perhaps something mystical helps her? Maybe the big Wicca chick we bring in at the end of S8 can help somehow? Show that Taraâs coming back was, in its own way, as natural as her passing was UNnatural. Her return is, in and of itself, a righting of the scales.
Dawn
This is a big year for Dawn. Sheâs a senior in high school. Sheâs turning 18. Sheâs becoming an adult. Oh, yeah, and sheâll finally figure out that sheâs got all those Key powers still. Dawnâs story will be about transitions. From childhood to adulthood, from being just a normal (as normal as she could be) girl to having all those powers as the Key and whatever that implies for her. We will also need to decide this year where Dawnâs going to college (her awakening Key powers could be a good excuse to keep her local).
Faith
Faithâs story is going to be about guilt. Hazelâs death at the end of the previous season happened right before we ended the whole thing, so at that point we will have gotten to see precious little carryover. This is the time to dwell on that. Faith would feel tremendous guilt over Hazelâs death â Faith is the one who recruited Hazel, who brought her there. She was Hazelâs mentor, and Hazel sacrificed herself for Faith. We donât want to retread over the âdo I belong here?â line, since weâre dealing with that in S8, but Faith should certainly be questioning whether or not she should be leading little girls into dangerous battles. Itâs one thing for Faith to risk her life night after night, but another entirely to be responsible for the lives and deaths of others. Unsure how this will resolve, but it seems the logical arc for Faith given the closing of the previous season.
Big Bad
NOTE: Weâre going to have to come up with a really good reason why Willow just doesnât ensoul the vamp chick ⊠or she does and it makes no difference at all. Could be an interesting commentary about vampires and souls. Hm.
The more weâre discussing this, the more weâre liking this idea. The notion of souls in the Buffyverse has always been sort of hazy at best. Loosely, they seemed to be of the opinion that getting a soul somehow made you good ⊠but there are countless number of humans in the world (and the Buffyverse â look at Warren) who are human and, one therefore assumes, have a soul. Yet they are still capable of great evil. Even more so than some demons that they encounter. So despite however neat and pat Buffy likes to make it sometimes, a soul does NOT automatically mean that someone is going to be good. And maybe that throws her for a hell of a loop. Willow ensouls the BB, but it doesnât make one bit of difference. Vengeance is, after all, as much a human emotion as anything else, and the BB still wants Buffy to suffer horribly for what sheâs done. At most, the BB may feel some measure of guilt for the people that sheâs had to kill over the past 300 or 400 years (however long sheâs been vamped), but as it turns out, she doesnât. She looks at it with the detached, cold impracticality possessed by Slayers â she did what she had to in order to survive. Maybe she wasnât a fan of torture (weâre painting her very logical and such, so this should work okay), and simply did what she needed to. The Slayer in and of itself is very predatorial and most definitely a survivor â thereâs not necessarily much difference between them, and this will further demonstrate that fact.
This could also further add to Willowâs continued feeling of being out of control. This SHOULD have worked and didnât.
Season 9 Character Arcs
Buffy:
Buffy's arc will deal with a continuing gray area between what is good and what is evil. What is a soul really? Does having a soul make you good by default? The vampiric Slayer will prove that's not necessarily the case. Additionally, Buffy will be trying to sort out a few things about her life. What does she ultimately want to do? She could very well be the first Slayer in history to die of old age. Does she want to be involved with that all her life, or does she want more? Would Buffy maybe like to return to school? (Might be fun to have her and Tara going back to school together.) Around midway point, Buffy is nearly drained to death by vamp Slayer, she must rely on others to take care of her - doesn't always have to be the strong one.
Willow:
Willow will come to the realization that her magick is of no use against the Big Bad this year. What is Willow without her magick? What else can she contribute? Progressively, other things may fail as well, so that Willow is systematically deconstructed and having to find her true purpose and how she can contribute outside of her raw power.
Xander:
Xander will explore his roles this season. He's said that he won't be forgotten or shoved aside, so then the question becomes, how will he contribute? It's up to Xander to answer this question. He tries his hand at a variety of roles - maybe a Watcher, maybe a husband (though he's already "failed" at that one). Come the end, he realizes that his role is support, and it's the role he's always fallen into naturally.
Giles:
Giles is pulling away from the others. He's beginning to see the Slayers as nameless, faceless people. He realizes that he'll have to sacrifice them - and some part of himself - again at some point in the future, so he's subconsciously distancing himself from the pain. He's slowly becoming the Old Council. Comes to realize that while he may have to distance himself from the body as a whole, it doesn't mean he shouldn't have any attachments at all. And that he can be those two people - the one that can love them, but still sacrifice them for the greater good if necessary (which will work, as Giles will ultimately sacrifice himself, NOT for the greater good but because he doesn't want them to die). ** Which may be a good time to point out that I was going to kill Giles next season, kisses.
Tara:
Tara's quest this year will be for her place. She's died and come back, but this isn't "right". There is a balance in things, and she feels she's upset that balance. She'll explore her past and her family to find out why, in a grander sense, she's back and how she fits in now.
Tara and Willow:
Tara discovers that Willow has somewhat enshrined her as a result of her death and return. Willow caves to Tara almost constantly, and it's beginning to affect them both, but Willow can't bring herself to fight with Tara as a result of what happens every time they fight. She doesn't want Tara to go away again. They must fight, they have to learn that it's okay. Tara pushes it with Willow and makes it happen. Maybe when Tara goes to visit her family, that's the catalyst.
Dawn:
Dawn becomes victim of the time-old adage, "be careful what you wish for". She's always wanted to be a Scooby, but now that's beginning to conflict with her other desire to be a regular teenaged girl and her other big desire: to be an adult. All these worlds are colliding and Dawn's not sure which is more important. Blows off Scooby things for friend-things sometimes. Blows off friend-things for Scooby-things.
Re Grip: They're getting closer, but she keeps having to put off things with him due to Scooby situations. Grip notices and (kindly) confronts her, wondering if she really just doesn't want to see him anymore but doesn't know how to tell him. When he finds out about the baddies, he'll back away, needing time to process. Poor Dawnie.
Faith:
Faith will spend the season getting back onto the redemptive path she's been on for years. She doesn't feel bad that she killed Judith and is wondering what the means (somewhat like when her mother died). She'll learn that just because she's stumbled doesn't mean she's fallen. She begins in England, hiding out from Trillium. Thinking she should go solo, it was easier when she didn't have anyone else to worry about. Doesn't want to go back, but Kennedy pushes her. Once back, Faith avoids everyone. Should Giles maybe get Faith into therapy?
Buffy agitated that Faith isn't really being punished. Faith points out that a lot of people around Buffy are killers and they've never been punished either. Buffy needs things black and white, Faith is another shade of grey and it's getting harder and harder for her to do her job.
Xander gets to the heart of things too much, and Faith doesn't want to deal with that. Finally it's Willow who lets Faith know that there's someone who DOES understand. It's the first step in getting Faith back into things, but she still doesn't want to teach.
Maybe at some point in the season, Faith takes off? If so, Xander should probably pursue. (Might tie in nicely to Xander's "what's my role?" arc. Perhaps he has a job interview or something that he can't miss out on that will further define him, but he misses it because he has to help Faith, and that's the choice he makes) Could be where Hazel's death gets resolved. Goes to Hazel's house and parents for that?
Faith's murder issue will probably come to a head when she's face-to-face with Finch's child. Kid wants revenge, and Faith understands that. States how it won't make anything better, but gives up and says that if s/he wants it so bad, just take it. S/he doesn't, of course, which would probably disappoint Faith to a degree.
Maybe show Faith just starting to teach again at the end of the season, rather than some big culmination. Maybe she's forced into it when the VS keeps the other Slayers occupied? Buffy would be elsewhere at the time.
 The Big Bad
** These are some of my earliest notes, as reflected in how Iâm using my placeholder names like âDark Covenâ. A lot of it deals with what happened in S8, but it outlines the larger arc, which would have come to a head in S10.
What the Bad Guys Want
The Dark Coven is seeking to reawaken The Old Ones. As per Giles in âWelcome to the Hellmouth", the Old Ones were driven out when the lost their "purchase" on this reality. The last vestiges of the Old Ones fed on a human, mixed their blood, and created the first vampire. This proves that humans were around during the time of the Old Ones. He also states that vamps, demons and some magicks are leftovers from the time of the Old Ones.
The Dark Coven is a group that has been around since the time of the Old Ones. They are in allegiance with them, and are currently seeking to free them. In their current incarnation, they are very, very close (comparatively speaking). The Old Ones are sealed away somewhere by a series of extremely intricate locks, well nigh impenetrable. But they actually are already well on their way to opening them.
More than anything else, the DC is a master of manipulation with OODLES of patience. They've been working on freeing the Old Ones since their imprisonment. As is eventually revealed, they have been twisting events with the Scoobies for years, bringing them to the point where the Old Ones are ready to be freed.
When the Old Ones Roamed
They were, quite simply, lords of their domain. They are few in number, but unfathomably powerful. As with many nigh-omnipotent beings, however, they became bored and complacent. They began to tinker with things and began creating demons, unleashing them on the world. The demons, however, were little more than slaves, and no matter how evil, nothing much likes being enslaved. The demons, together with humans (quite possibly including the Shadow Men from "Get it Done") were able to ensnare the Old Ones -- you can't kill them, but they were imprisoned. Once the Old Ones were gone, their power slowly vanished, diminishing their partners/lackies/etc. (like the DC), and leaving the created demons and humans to fight over the rest of the land.
Season 6 Manipulation
The DC, although powerful, are themselves, collectively, unable to open the remaining locks (if they could ever open any at all). However they soon discovered one girl, Willow Rosenberg, who had the innate ability to channel the energies necessary to set things into motion. She just needed the right motivation to get the power.
Exactly how far their manipulation into these events goes, we don't know. What is for certain is that they fixed it so that Tara would be shot and killed by Warren's stray bullet. (The reasoning for this idea: there's absolutely no way the bullet could have possibly killed Tara in the way it did. Warren was in the backyard, running away and shooting upwards. Tara was standing by the bedroom window on the second story. The bullet shot through the glass, and through her, at no angle at all. Obviously in-show this was done for dramatic purposes, but they left a door open for outside creative interpretation and Iâm going through it.)
As they knew it would, this prompts Willow to become hell-bent on revenge and absorb enough power to destroy the world. She goes to Kingman's Bluff, raises the effigy of Proserpexa, and begins to funnel her energies into it. Had she done this enough, she would have raised one of the Old Ones herself (or Proserpexa could have take the next step in unlocking one of the doors), however Xander interceded and saved Willow before this could happen.
NOTE: Perhaps Xander's interception is what was actually needed here? I always found it interesting that he completely blocked and seemingly absorbed all that power Willow was throwing at the effigy without even blinking. Was this maybe super-charging him for something? Could this maybe be key to what they will need to save him from later on? (S10 stuff.)
The Proserpexa angle maybe have been removed, but the DC didn't mind -- Willow had now unlocked enough of the power within herself to open another lock.
Season 7 Manipulation
This stems from a whole lot of S7 never really standing up to much scrutiny. Take, for example, the scythe. Caleb and the First spend SO much time and energy in uncovering the scythe, claiming to know how very important it was to NOT allow Buffy & Co. to get it -- when if they hadn't even been trying to get it, Buffy wouldn't have ever known it was there. This in and of itself seems to make ZERO sense, particularly since it never seemed to be that the First could use the scythe himself -- it was all about keeping it from the Slayer. So, very stupid to not only sit on the darned thing, but to ACTIVELY BRING YOUR ENEMIES TO IT (the "trap" in "Dirty Girls" leads Buffy and the Slayers to the vineyard, They never would have bothered going there otherwise).
My reasoning: The First is also an Old One. And he set his plan up specifically to fail. He himself is immortal, he cannot die. And he doesn't really give a crap about ubervamps and Bringers. Their plan all along was to make the Scoobies unleash the scythe to awaken all the Slayers.
Why? As mentioned in "Get it Done", there is a well of Slayer power. That well is usually filled nearly to capacity. It was, after all, only being used by Buffy, and then Faith. The fact that the emergence of a second Slayer did nothing to diminish either's power indicates that it's not shared on that kind of level. In addition, the awakening of all the Slayers at the end of "Chosen" didn't seem to cause any sort of power drain. Instead, we theorize that the well is deep, but has a finite capacity. When Willow did the spell, she in essence pulled the stopper on the well and drained it dry. This well, however, happens to be one of the keys to freeing the Old Ones, and once it drops to a certain level, the "door" that it locks is open.
Moving on -- The Chosen
When Slayers die now, one is not called in their place. There is a finite number of Slayers in the world now. When they die, their Slayerness returns to the well. Only once it reaches a certain level (presumably it's "default" state, pre-spell) will the "natural" process resume. The DC obviously don't want this to happen, as once it "refills" to a certain point, the door will close again. Hence their working with the Assemblage of Merodoch (previously, "Dark Council"); by harnessing and funneling the Slayerness into an already existing Slayer, it does not return to the well, hence no refill.
But that isn't the only reason the DC are working with the Assemblage. The AoM also has another key: an angel that they're keeping chained up in the deepest sublevel of their headquarters. This angel has, perhaps, been around as long as the Old Ones themselves. Perhaps he even aided in imprisoning them. He was captured shortly thereafter, however, and has remained that way ever since (we're talking pretty close to pre-recorded history here, as long as the Slayer line has been in existence, possibly longer).
Idea: The angel can only be freed by a descendant of one who imprisoned him in the first place. Maybe a Giles?
He is a key -- maybe something he says? His true name, perhaps? The DC want him, but the AoM have him and won't give him up. They have said, however, that once Order is restored to the world, they will provide the DC with the means to do whatever they need to do with him. The DC is okay with this -- they're currently getting something from the Council (someone to alert them to the need to funnel Slayer energy and someone to keep all that tiresome business together while they focus on the really important stuff).
Like good ol' Willow Rosenberg.
They call Willow "The Sangerand" ("the bloody"), and they should absolutely not be done with her yet. Willow's independent further role, we don't yet know, but she commands their greatest amount of attention. Her, and Tara. ("The Curat", or "the pure"?)
When they resurrect Tara, it is ostensibly under the guise of killing Willow. However the true reason is to fulfill Tara's part of this prophecy (which includes her death, resurrection and making the choice to not kill Willow), possibly including the sharing of power that Willow will need to do to save them.
Thinking on it, it would be cool to have each Scooby play an important role somehow in all of this. Sort of like their being together in this way was a fated thing. "The Chosen" indeed.
**ADDENDUM** I really like this idea of each Scooby playing a particular role. This could still lead up to the eventual death of Giles, which in and of itself will provide the beginnings of the Coven's downfall. They do whatever they're doing to Xander, which will kill him - but that won't matter because his role in unlocking the door will be done. Will is going to be doing the spell to save him, which will kill her in turn, but that's okay too because her part is also played in releasing the Old Ones. Giles, however, has NOT yet done his part, and he completely surprises everyone when he takes Willow's place, thereby saving both Will and Xander. This totally throws the Coven for a loop, though obviously they must still be able to do what they need to without Giles, else their plans are over with right then and there. It's crucial that his sacrifice NOT be part of the DC's plans, else it takes away from its poignancy.
Will need some sort of prophecy-type thing detailing what is needed to be done to release the Old Ones. Should be nice and vague, but with meaning once you figure it out.
Scooby Designations
Willow: The Sangerand ("the bloody")
Tara: The Curat ("the pure")
Xander: The Vedere ("the sight"), The Asar ("all-seeing eye") -- "The Baani" ("The Architect" - Urdu)
Buffy: The Kusari ("the chain"), The Revenire ("the returned"), The Gula or The Bau ("Lady Who the Dead Bring Back to Life")
Giles: The Verhaal ("the history"), The Shoukin/The Infria, ("redemption"), The Shin'ar ("Land of the Watchers")
Faith: ("the dark"), ("the restrained"), ("the wild")
Dawn: ("the cherished"), ("the gateway"), ("the portal"), ("the key")
The Prophecy
Opening Quatrain
Buffy :: The Trimarga :: Three Path A heartbeat thrice begun A death mark thrice given All roads lead to the town of three When her spilled blood shall spill again
Willow :: The Sangerand :: The Bloody Blood flowing, blood taken Forces awoken, decline and ascent Blood given, life exchanged Freely, she will fall
Xander :: The Baani :: The Builder Grief and rage, life's destruction Mind and body, life's cohesion Heart and spirit, life's devotion Melding, merging; essence anew
Giles :: The Tezan :: The Way Forger of paths, the first and his kin The demon wields the plague of black Summoner, banisher Pierce the barrier, paths renewed
Tara :: The Curat :: The Pure Birth and rebirth, the cycle complete Connected to evil, untainted Power innate and power borrowed Through the light she will free the ancient one
Dawn :: The Amelatu :: The Gatekeeper Living energy made flesh and form Younger in life, older than death Truth altered, life shed And the walls will fall
The Slayer Well Solitary hunter, night's enemy She alone will stand When the well is drained and strength is shared One becomes Many
Closing Quatrain And so it is written Seven locks hold fast The masters expelled, the world cleansed Until the Chosen play their part
Seven keys for seven locks From the first to fall, five score and one If all locks turn, the door lay open And the Old Ones shall reclaim the Earth
Buffy: The Trimarga ("three path" :: the triple path of Knowledge [jnanayoga], Devotion [bhaktiyoga] and Action [karmayoga]). Three times her heart has started beating, three times she's been marked by a vampire (Angel, Dracula and the Vamp Slayer [yet to happen) and in town of threes(??). Something to do with blood - some of it needed to open the lock. Blood of a Slayer is already potent, and Buffy's was obviously enough to close the portal in place of Dawn.
Willow: The Sangerand ("the bloody"). Willow will cast a blood-sacrifice spell, that will enable her to willingly exchange her life for another. It has to be this spell based upon how Mads and the others are killing Xander. Very, very powerful, only she can do it. The flow of the energies will open the lock.
Xander: The Baani ('the builder"). Xander is the "incuabator" for two very powerful magicks. They don't impact him directly, but it is his nature - his very self - that will enable them to merge within him to create something new. The first blast came from Willow on Kingman's Bluff. The second, from the orb destroyed in "Win, Lose or Draw". Madrigan will take Xander around the mid-point of S10 to extract the magicks from him. It will kill him in the process, but that's of little concern.
Giles: The Tezan ("the way"). Giles' role is to obtain a ring that has been in his family for generations upon generations. Unknown to those recently, the jewel of the ring actually contains a demon - a demon that was the original cause of the Black Plague in the 1330's. Giles' ancestor, a powerful warlock for the Council, was the first human to pierce the barrier between this dimension and a demon dimension where he summoned a demon and bound it to his service. The demon was sent to China, where it was supposed to take out a group of other demonic creatures trying to open a Hellmouth there. It did indeed do that, but not before starting the plague. The Council, rather than destroy the ring and banish the creature, said "We'll control it better next time." The ring's purpose was eventually lost,. Giles is supposed to release and then banish the demon, again piercing the dimensional barrier and opening that lock. ** He dies instead, sacrificing himself to save both Willow and Xander. Oops.
Tara: The Curat ("the pure"). Tara's lock will open upon her freeing the Antediluvian. The Antediluvian is an angelic creature that was captured by Robespierre's ancestors. Its imprisonment means the lock is sealed - its freedom opens it. Tara is able to free it due to her lineage as a witch, her purity of spirit, her completed cycle of birth and rebirth, and (by binding with Willow) her immense white magick power creating the necessary conditions. Ruth, Tara's grandmother or great-grandmother, was also thought at one time to have been the Curat, but was not. However she does recognize the qualities within Tara. (Perhaps the Antediluvian, despite its imprisonment being a good thing, can do great good if it's released?)Â ** Later in S9, Tara and Co. would have freed the Antediluvian to save Buffy after Yuuganaâs attack.
Dawn: The Amelatu ("the gatekeeper"). Dawn herself is able to open the lock. Not a lot of detail here. We'll need to sort out somehow or another that Dawn will do this ... or perhaps she already has? There seems to be little better time for Dawn to have opened the necessary lock than when all the dimensional walls were coming down.
Additional Lock: The well of Slayer power being drained. This was done by Willow in S7, but is not Willow's specific key.
Additional Info: Once any lock falls, there is a "timer" of 100 years for the rest to fall, or they all lock again.
** It may not escape notice that Faith is not part of this prophecy. That became by design, not oversight. I loved how this idea of âThe Chosenâ worked into the larger series theme, but I also hate the ideas of fate and destiny being controlling factors. Faith was going to be my argument against all that. When all the prophecy pieces were revealed, Faith would (rather defeatedly in her Faith way) note that she had no part to play. But she is the embodiment of being Chosen, as the characters choose to have Faith by their side and fuck prophecy anyway. Their unreserved acceptance of Faith, and Faithâs acceptance of THAT, would have been the culmination of her character arc in S10 (and my series).
S10 Ideas
Something to do with tarot cards, with each member maybe being a particular card?
Several characters get thrown back in time to an earlier season. Dawn especially should go, as she wasn't around then.
stained glass idea. couples. Buffy left free. Valentine's day ep.
"The Impossible Dream" - Man of La Mancha lyrics
Faith having conversation with Kendra -- result of illness, injury, or prophetic dream
** An episode I was definitely going to do, but frustratingly canât find any notes for (making me feel there must be SOMETHING else out there somewhere but fuck me if I know where) had Willow and Tara going to Los Angels and visiting Lorneâs bar, Caritas.
S10 Ending
Everyone ends on a thematic note, their actions in the final battle bringing together 10 years of development:
Giles's sacrifice makes victory possible - by finally following his heart rather than his duty he saves the world.
Xander, by virtue (and surprise) of simply being Xander, strikes the final blow.
Willow succeeds only by keeping herself in check, refusing to break and believing that she can win.
Buffy's victories come from not only sharing herself (mentally to Willow and physically to Faith and Kennedy) but truly, finally, accepting that she's not in this alone.
Dawn makes the sacrifice she was destined to make from the moment she was created.
Tara is the touchstone, giving the strength and support to everyone else and the lifeline that ultimately saves Dawn.
Faith has no greater role handed to her by fate -- but she's here and kicking ass so screw you, fate.
(work on Kennedy, she ends up fighting w/ Buff and Faith, but does she start there? maybe she and Faith start with Tara and Dawn?)
IDEAS
Seneca final battle. He's winning. Standing over Buffy, gloating smile. Then he finally speaks. Something like, "I've waited a long time to--" Then he gets skewered (Faith or Kennedy, maybe both.) He can't say anything else, just gurgle. Â He dies, and the Slayers stand over him.
Buffy: "Blah blah blah. You know, just once I'd like to meet a bad guy who knows how to keep his mouth shut."
Kennedy: "No lie. Still, I wonder what he was going to say?"
Faith: "Who the hell cares?"
Buffy HAS to be part of final Madrigan fight. She goes initially with Xander and Willow. Xander gets struck down by Mads, seemingly dead. Buffy gets nailed too. Willow needs Buffy to get through this though, and Buff gives Will her strength (flashback to "Same Time Same Place" as well as early Chosen w/ Willow and Buffy being so attuned -- see, not a throw-away plot point! Planned all along!) Leads to good "final" conversation/bonding with them as they search for Madrigan in the mental plane.
Earlier in the season, Madrigan extracting the magick from Xander. Very painful for Xander. Madrigan talking to him though, very chatty, very casual. Xander trying to dig for info, Madrigan clearly seeing through it. He likes the cliche though (exposition while acknowledging how clunky and stupid it is to have exposition here). Mads being real bastard (passively though) to Xander this whole time, noting how Xander isn't even really important in and of himself, it's only what others do with him that counts (maybe include little side wink-nudge point, it's what's inside Xander that matters). Mads ends the conversation by apologizing. "Sorry dude, this has gotta suck for you. Hey, you know what I like to do when I'm down? TV! You like 'Murphy Brown'? I've been Netflixing it." He and Seneca proceed to sit down and watch while Xander is essentially tortured behind them. Mads just turns up the volume.
Season 10 Final Fight
Buffy, Kennedy and Faith will go after Seneca.
Willow and Tara will be walking along in the facility when they're attacked. Tara is thrown away from Willow, who is then going to be caught behind an impenetrable shield with Madrigan. He wants to face her alone on an astral plane of sorts. Tara can't join her. Willow is depowered somewhat as a result of the spell she was casting to save Xander. Madrigan wants to fight her, however. Will surprises him - she thought like him and figured he would do this. As a result, Xander is piggy-backing with her, and she's not alone. Madrigan says that he knows Xander, and Xander won't kill him. He's wrong. X: "He don't know me very well, do he?"
Meanwhile, the door to release the Old Ones is opening and they can't stop it. Or they think they can't. Dawn realizes that she, being the Key, can. She begins to do so, but it's taking so much power, it's essentially killing her. Dawn is reverting to pure energy form. Buffy screams at her, tells her not to, but Dawn says she's spent the past five years wondering - feeling, even - that she should've died on that tower. Now she knows that she wasn't supposed to die, she was supposed to live to do this. "This is the job that I have to do." Buffy can't stop her. Tara fights though, won't let Dawn go. Tara eventually passes out and Dawn disappears. The energy is gone and so is Dawn, but the door is closed and locked again.
Not long after, Buffy goes home. Willow and Xander are with Tara at the hospital (sheâs drained but okay). Buffy seems to be alone. She's completely dispirited - Dawn is dead. She enters her room, only to find Dawn there. B: "What are you doing here?" Shades of Dawn's first appearance. Turns out (as we'll learn in the final episode) that Dawn has given up all of her Key powers - for real this time. She is now, completely and utterly, a very real, very normal girl.
** And finally, I give you all with this. Itâs a rough sketch of the scene after Giles has died, so would have come about 2/3rd of the way through Season 10. I wrote this in 2004, about a week after the death of my grandfather. I like to think that, if Iâd gotten that far, this would have been one of those moments that would have stuck with you. I certainly wouldâve tried.
Giles Death Reactions
These are a sequence of silent scenes.
We first see Faith in a darkened training room. She's punching a punching bag.
We're in Giles loft, the lights all dark. The door opens, and Hannah's standing there, on the threshold. She doesnât enter.
We're in a hospital, private room. There are two beds. The one on the far left contains Xander. He looks gaunt, pale, near death. But breathing. His heart monitor gives a steady readout. Dawn sits next to him, inbetween the two beds. Tears are streaming down her cheeks â simply falling, she's not sobbing. She watches Xander with a fearful, worried expression, then turns to the next bed. There's Willow, also pale and drawn. She doesn't look well either, though not quite as bad as Xander. Tara sits on the other side of the bed, as close to it as she can possibly get. One of Willow's hands is held up in both of hers, Willow's fingers resting on Tara's lips. Tara's eyes are red â she's obviously been crying too. She meets Dawn's gaze. Neither smile.
We're in Giles' office. Buffy is standing in the doorway. Her face is blank.
We're back in the loft, Hannah's position mirroring Buffy's. She walks inside and finds herself drawn toward Giles' stereo system. She runs her hands over the CD collection, full of albums and songs from their past.
Faith's punching of the bag increases. She's venting, her jabs more vicious, more focused. Over her shoulder, we see Kennedy watching.
The hospital. Dawn runs a hand through her hair and wipes her eyes after watching Xander intently. She turns to Willow and watches as Willow opens her eyes and blinks. Dawn watches in surprise, and Willow seems to sense the scrutiny. She turns to Dawn and smiles â just a small smile, a pained one, but it's something. Dawn's face breaks into an expression of pure joy and relief, and she says something. Tara has either been locked in thought or asleep, Willow's hand clutched to her forehead, but her head jerks up at Dawn's words. She focuses on Dawn for the briefest of moments before her eyes go back to Willow. Willow is already looking at her, and she smiles again, a bit stronger this time. Willow says something too, and it causes Tara to laugh. The laugh turns into a sob of relief though, and Tara kisses Willow's hand several times then leans over and kisses her forehead. Will is weak, but is able to give Tara a one-armed hug, kissing her on the cheek, then turning to Dawn and extending her other arm. Dawn is there in a heartbeat, also crying in relief.
Giles' office. Almost trancelike, Buffy moves further into the darkened office, which is lit only by the lamp on the desk. As she walks, her eyes are drawn to things. The rows and rows of books that Giles surrounded himself with. The bookcases that Xander built, not only filled with books but also decorated with knickknacks â various small statues and effigies and an Owl plushie. She looks to the opposite wall, where hangs a variety of pictures, but dominating them all, easily the biggest and with the proudest placement, is a picture of Giles, snapped at a moment none of them were expecting. He was obviously the victim of a random group hug attack â Buffy, Willow, Xander, Tara and Dawn, all hugging him fiercely. Giles has that look on his face where he's trying hard to be annoyed with them, but is secretly loving every moment. Buffy's movement into the office hasn't halted, hasn't slowed from its already snail's pace. She's at the desk now. Bathed in the warm glow of the lamp, she sees a cup of tea, only half-drunk, as though Giles will be returning any moment to finish it. Most prominent, however, are the sealed envelopes on the desk, several of them, each bearing a name. We see Buffy's name on the top one, and can see hints of other's beneath: Willow, Xander, etc. Giles' glasses rest nearby.
Faith is almost in a frenzy of kicks and punches now. Her teeth are clenched and she looks like she wants nothing more than to have the bag turn into the Grim Reaper himself so she can pound the crap out of him. A hand rests on her shoulder, and Faith whirls around to see Kennedy there. Faith looks like she might just start beating the shit out of Kennedy as well, but then Kennedy takes Faith's hand and puts a stake in it. Faith looks down at it questioningly, then looks to Kennedy. Kennedy holds up her own stake. Faith's eyes narrow and she nods, just slightly.
Hannah's by the window in Giles' loft, simply looking out, looking at nothing in particular. She hugs herself and her head drops as she starts to softly cry.
In the hospital room, Willow casts an anxious look at Xander still motionless in his bed. She looks first to Dawn, then Tara, who says something that causes Willow to relax considerably. She smiles, but soon realizes her smiles aren't being returned. She again looks questioningly from one to the other, but neither speak. She's getting really worked up now, scared, and Dawn starts to say something. She doesn't get far, though, before she can't speak any more. Willow turns immediately to Tara, who picks up where Dawn left off. Willow watches, still afraid. Then the fear turns to disbelief. She's starting to cry now and she shakes her head in denial. She looks to Dawn, looking for someone to tell her that what she's heard isn't true, but Dawn can only cry. Willow looks back to Tara again and says something, begging for it not to be true. Tara can only look at her with sympathy and matching pain as Willow dissolves into tears.
Giles office. Buffy is sitting in the corner, her back against the wall, curled in on herself. We can't see her face, but her shaking shoulders tell us all we need to know. She's hugging the Owl plushie for dear life.Â
CUT TO BLACK
** And that, my friends, is that.
#jw writes stuff#btvs: the chosen#IT TOOK ME LONGER THAN I THOUGHT#and now i'm officially drained and exhausted goodnight
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Title: This Time Author: @timetravelingarchaeologist Fandom: Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire Pairing: Arthur Dayne/Lyanna Stark Rating: G Word Count: 2216 Summary: This time things are different. Notes: Unbetaed and posted far later than I meant to. Secret Santa gift for @thatgirlnevershutsup for the @asoiafrarepairs Secret Santa. Iâm so sorry this wasnât posted on time. I hope it hits the mark nonetheless.
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He is tied to her through his oaths, but even if he were not, she has his sword and his affection.
He wasnât supposed to want her as he did. More than just having sworn an oath against such things. Lyanna Stark was his princess, wed to his prince⊠his once would be king. He was sworn to her by extension. Protector to her and the Targaryen child that she carried. But Rhaegar left her there in Dorne, with Arthur and two of his brothers, and Rhaegar never returned. Cut down by Robert Baratheon, usurper of the crown, and with that Lyanna could never go home. It didnât matter that she had made her own decision to leave, had her own plan and alliances made, her fate was sealed the moment Rhaegar fell dead on a muddy riverbank, and again the moment the boy she delivered came screaming into the world.
But it happened without warning, and without permission anyway. In the countless days between ravens, with few others for company. Theyâd shared stories for their childhoods and siblings, and their dreams and fears. Finally, they shared sorrow. Somewhere in between it all theyâd found a common ground and a friendship, and something that Arthur would not name, could not allow, for it had no place in the lift of a man who had sworn Kingsguard vows.
-
Lyanna stood at the window and looked at the dry landscape of Dorne. This was never a tower filled with true joy, in Rhaegarâs absence, it should have been even less so. And yet, it was the start of something that she had not known would bloom, and for that, she would forever remember it fondly.
-
She had wanted nothing to do with marrying Robert Baratheon, though what she wanted mattered little where most men were concerned. It was a good match as far as the alliances it would make and that had already been made. Robert seemed devoted to their betrothal, to her, but she could not help but think that it wasnât her he was devoted to at all. Lyanna was simply the closest thing there was to Ned who was closer to Robert than his own blood brothers. But he would never appreciate her for the woman that she truly was, a wild northern girl with dreams or her own and the determination to make her own fate. She was nothing like her brother at all.
Her hands cupped her belly, the weight of pregnancy strained her back and tight ripples of labour coursed through her all that morning. She was already exhausted, but the midwife that had come with the wet nurse from Starfall, the one that Arthur had finally argued to send for, had told her that pacing the room would help, and so she stayed on her feet as long as she could manage.
Theyâd had little fresh news of the war, one started for her, made of lies sheâd never intended to create, but then she hadnât anticipated Rhaegarâs actions. When she had left and married him she had seen an opportunity for a future she couldnât have had otherwise. Rhaegar found delight in their shared disinterest in what the world thought they should be,  he had shared with her his secrets and plans to take the throne from his mad father , and though she did not love him as a wife should love a husband, she was captivated by  all of this and of his stories of prophecy. It was the easiest choice for her to make, to offer him herself as the wife heâd need to give life to a third child with his blood. To play a part in his story, and to decide the fate of her own. As a second wife she could have the freedom she would never have with another, sheâd build an alliance of her own, stronger than any other, and with a man who did not paint her as someone she was not. And Robert would never be able to go against his prince, his king. But she had not accounted for so many things.
Rhaegar setting aside Elia, though few would know that still. Â Robertâs claims that she had been kidnapped, the deaths of her father and brother as they demanded she be returned. Not that she had known at the time. She had been in Dorne already, likely abed with Rhaegar as they made the babe she had offered him with such hope. A babe he had left her with while he marched to meet his death on a muddy riverbank.
It was selfish and it was not and none of it mattered anymore. The only thing that mattered was that she could never go home now. To go home would mean that her child would likely be taken or slaughtered like the rest of the Targaryens had been and that sheâd be marked ruined.
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When Eddard Stark and his companion showed up with swords in hand and demanded his sister back, Arthur could not stand by and let him take her. Not just because Lyanna did not wish it or because it would be dangerous for her, but because the babe she carried was his king. Arthur would give his life to protect the child, ensure that Baratheon never could do what he knew a usurper must. And he nearly did give it, he didnât realise how close he had come to doing so until he heard the clatter of a blade behind him as a blood-curdling scream filled the air.
He was faster than Stark as he ran towards the sound, though the man was on his heels the whole way up the stone steps, both leaving Starkâs companion in the dust.
Inside the room at the top of the tower, the heavy copper scent of blood did not abate. He moved to the head of the bed, even though he knew there was little that he could do besides stand. But the midwife was too busy to shoo him away and so he stood guard without the ability to truly protect either of those he must from the situation they were in.
When he looked back to the door, Dawn in hand, Stark had frozen at the threshold. It had become clear that the screams were not of torture, but of a woman in the birthing bed. Lyanna screamed again, and this time she reached out and grabbed his hand, and the look that Stark gives him is one of pained confusion.
They make a truce.
-
Lyanna barely could recall the final hour that it took to push her son out. Dizzy from the pain and only wanting for it to be over. She had nearly assumed that Nedâs sudden appearance was a fever dream. One moment she had been alone with the midwife and the next her hand had found Arthurâs, and then Nedâs. Ridiculous because men did not attend births, and Ned wasnât in Dorne. And then the babe finally slipped from her body. She was so exhausted and cold, and she closed her eyes.
When she woke she felt as cold as before, weak-limbed and as if she hadnât slept at all. The midwife would later tell her that she had lost too much blood and that she may never bear another child. And it is a surprise to find that Ned was real after all.
-
Ned had tried to talk Lyanna into returning home. Heâd claim her baby as his own bastard, Robert will never find out the truth and she could have a life as queen. Instead, she makes her confessions about everything. And knowing what Robert has done already, and Lyannaâs truths, eventually they agree to part ways. Ned will spread the news of their deaths and Lyanna and Arthur will take her son away and raise him far from Robertâs reach and knowledge.
The babe is named Jon, not what Rhaegar would have chosen, but itâs what she likes. He will never be a Targaryen king, but she will name him after a Stark king. When a few days have passed and she is strong enough, they leave the tower and Dorne thereafter.
-
They avoid news of Westeros as best they can and eventually they settle outside of Braavos. Near enough to the city, but far enough to draw minimal attention. They tell people very little about who they are when they can, and when they have to Lyanna and Jon pose as Arthurâs wife and son. When their coin runs thin Arthur findâs work on the docks, and then there are no questions at all. They are simply like any other family as far as those they interact with are concerned.
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No, he's not supposed to want her. And perhaps that would have mattered more if things were any other way. If she hadn't wanted him back.
At first, it was easy to ignore, there were more immediate concerns, worries of where they were going to go, the journey theyâd taken to get there, their basic needs once they did settle, countless things to occupy them both. But it was just them and the babe and he could not help the overwhelming feeling of want for them both. Â He wanted her love, not just her body, wanting everything else she is, and to claim Jon as his own for real too, not just pretending. The brave and bold woman he has come to know. And the babe that is his king and almost his son. Perhaps he would never hold a throne, but he held as much of his heart as Lyanna has come to.
-
It would be impossible to not have developed a closeness. They do not live the way they once had. In their modest dwelling, they have little else but each other. No servants to discover who they once were, and one another for the bulk of their company. If they thought that they had gotten to know one another in the tower in Dorne, they find that they barely had known each other at all.
They have no more secrets. Itâs no secret that they care for one another and that they both want more. Arthur still makes no moves and Lyanna knows that he never will.
-
When Jon was just past his first name day Lyanna pressed the first of her kisses to Arthurâs mouth. He reluctantly pulled away with a sigh.
âI took vows to-â Lyanna cut him off. âYou took vows for a king and a prince that are no more.â
Arthur looked at Jon where he lay sleeping in his cradle and took in his tiny pink lips and dark curls. âJon has my vow now.â
Lyanna let out a laugh that lacked humour. âHeâll never be king, Arthur. He doesnât need a Kingsguard. He needs a father. And I need you.â Her eyes were sad and she left him alone in the room and didnât return until it was nearly dawn. He sat there thinking about what could be his, and when Lyanna returned he prayed that the gods would understand and forgive him for his choice.
-
Theyâre already married as far as anyone they know are concerned, but on a warm morning, Arthur and Lyanna took vows in a temple in front of a god that neither were raised with. They followed rituals that were not their own, and as they drip blood into a brazier the priestess dressed in red gripped their hands and gave them a sharp look.
âThe Lord of Light blesses your union. Your sonâs birth was foretold in the flames by Râhllor. When we meet again he will do great things. One day he will wield the dawn and vanquish the dark night.â
She let go just as strangely abrupt and finished her ritual. Lyanna held Jon closer, wary of prophecy even as ridiculous at that had seemed. When it was over Arthur pressed a kiss to her face and then Jonâs too. The priestess was forgotten soon after.
And then, though they lack a heart tree, they take vows again in the privacy of their home, speaking those familiar to Lyanna and hope that her gods will hear them.
-
When he first went to Lyannaâs bed he was hesitant, not because either was unsure of each other or inexperienced, but because it was far too much like a dream he could wake from. Â Nothing tasted so sweet or as much like home as Lyannaâs lips on his, their bodies laid out on rough homespun bedding, in a tiny home on the shore of a foreign land.
She quickly chased away all hesitancy with the boldness that he had come to love so easily.
It did not matter that their love had sprung up in a tragedy. That their paths had been altered in ways they hadnât originally chosen. As a husband and a father, he found a greater service, one that he thought was gods given after all. And Lyanna was never forced into anything she had not sought out of her own will.
-
In the flames, the red priestess watched a young man, a prince, wield a sword made of light, of the Dawn, and knew that sheâd gotten it right this time.
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It's Good To Be Alive Ch.1
Story Summary: After her death, Mileena was granted a second chance, as her journey to look for allies for her new rebellion lead her to Earthrealm where she was saved by the Shirai Ryu. Having no other choice, Mileena joined the clan and became somewhat of a student to Hanzo Hasashi. Meanwhile Havik has returned and is assembling an army to get revenge on Hanzo and plunge the realms into chaos. Check it out on Fanfiction: www.fanfiction.net/s/13285792/âŠ
Note: Originally, the story was going to be a bit different. But, I then decided to change it a bit at the last minute. If you saw the tags, obviously the story is going to be mainly about Hanzo (Scorpion) and Mileena, with fate bringing the two villains/anti-heroes together. Along with a redemption arc for Mileena. Also, this takes place after the events of MKX and if you haven't read the MKX comic or at least know the summarized version of it, your going to be a bit confused. As stated before the events of this story take place a bit after MKX and goes in a different direction from the main storyline in MK11. Accept the events in this story as an alternate universe. Enjoy.
Outworld: 5 Months Ago
In Kotal Khan's throne room, Mileena was on her knees with her hands tied behind her back, along with several guards, Jacqui, Cassie, Kung Jin, and Takeda standing behind her. Kotal walked up the steps to his throne and sat down with D'vorah standing next to him.
"Enough of your prattle. Finish me, that I may join my father." Said Mileena with venomous eyes.
"You do not deserve death by an emperor's hand. Instead, I give the honor to my worthy First Minister." Said Kotal as he gestured his hand to his left where D'vorah was standing. Smirking, the Kytinn walked forward. She stopped as she stood over Mileena. Mileena just glared back at D'vorah grabbed Mileena by the face and held her steady for her execution. She then grabbed her face with both her hands to hold her completely still, as she then bent down and delivered a kiss of death to Mileena.
With thousands of tiny insects spilling into Mileena's mouth and onto her face where they started to strip the flesh off of Mileena's face. Many such as Cassie, looked away in disgust. Only a second later was the process complete as D'vorah let go of Mileena's face as the half-tarkatan fell to the floor with her face stripped away revealing her skull as she let out one final blood curdling cry of pain, before dying.
D'vorah looked back up and smiled before turning around and walking back to her masters side.
"The rebellion, is over." Stated Kotal.
"Well... thanks for that, I know I'll never eat again..." Stated Cassie as her team began their business with Kotal Khan. Right as he betrayed them. But while all that was going on, Mileena's soul exited her body as it began to travel to the afterlife.
It's a strange thing when one's soul is out of their body... it's very lucid and much like a dream. Mileena could barely even think of what the after life for her was going to be like. Although she did manage to think up a few questions like... was she going to see her father in the afterlife? Perhaps her sister and her friends as well? Were the stories true about the afterlife? Can they all just be one big happy family? Like what Mileena wanted when she first woke up in Shang Tsung's Flesh Pits and met her sister? Or was she going to just go to the Netherrealm and suffer for all of eternity? As she was trying to brace herself for what was waiting for her in the afterlife, she noticed that her soul changed directions.
It was hard for Mileena to explain, especially when she was in this very lucid and dream-like state. But it was like her soul was connected to a physical form. But... that was impossible, was it not? Her body was destroyed in Outworld, and everyone only gets one body. If her body was destroyed and her soul was not headed to the afterlife, what else was there.
Mileena continued to fall through the ethereal plane, as her soul continued to fall and fall. But just as Mileena believed that her fall was never going to end... everything went black.
Everything was black as Mileena was just about to come out of unconsciousness. Like she was waking up from a deep sleep. But as she finally reached consciousness, she slowly leaned up and opened her eyes. She rubbed her head with her right hand as she looked around where she was. Her vision was still blurry, still unable to tell where she was. Eventually after a few more seconds, her eyes started to adjust as she looked around once more.
She was in what appeared to be a lab. Filled with mutilated bodies, large tubes filled with fluid with deformed figures floating in them, tables with flailed skin and dried blood, surgical tools scattered everywhere, bloody hooks hanging from the ceiling, candles and occult symbols everywhere, and more dark imagery. As Mileena looked around, she remembered this place. This is where she was born. The Flesh Pits.
"Uhh... What... what am I doing here? Why am I back in the Flesh Pits?" Asked Mileena as she looked all around, searching her memory banks for the reason she was here and what was going on. But much like waking up from a deep sleep, everything was fuzzy for her. But much like her vision, her memories started to return.
"I was... Tied up by those Earthrealm brats and that Osh-Tekk fool's forces..." More of Mileena's memories started to return to her. "That insect walked up to me, and... and... by the Elder Gods... I'm supposed to be dead."
Mileena regained all of her scenes and memories as she looked around the flesh pits once more, before looking back down at herself. She was wrapped in gauze bandages covering up all her private parts, like her breasts, her crotch, and her rear end. She rubbed her head once more, it felt like she just woke up from a horrible nightmare. She slung her legs over the slab she was laying on as she stood up on her own two feet again.
Mileena looked at her hand, bending the fingers and turning it around, still being exceptionally hard for her to believe. "What sorcery is this? This... this is IMPOSSIBLE! I should be dead!"
Mileena started to slowly walk forward and look around as she saw all the failed and deformed experiments that were either mutilated, hanging on hooks, or floating in the large tubes full of liquid.
"Still as horrid as the day I was born here... I can't even remember why I loved this place so much 25 years ago... I was only born a few days ago along with not having as much common sense as I have now..." Said Mileena looking around.
"Ugh! Nevermind that! Think Mileena! Think! How in the name of the Elder Gods have you come back from the dead? It is not possible!" Said Mileena as she looked around the lab once more, spotting several bodies that looked just like her with no deformations on them. Exact copies.
"Then again... There was that specter that fought for Quan Chi... and those revenants Quan Chi crafted out of the souls of the fallen Earthrealm protectors... Perhaps, if all these... clones are exact copies of me, perhaps my soul just moves on to a new body after death?..." Thought Mileena for a few seconds. Until she shook her head.
"Nevermind that! I must get revenge on that worthless usurper! I will have his head on a pike when I'm done with him!" Growled Mileena in fury as she walked towards the exit, leaving the flesh pits in a blind rage.
After leaving the pits, the half-naked woman wandered the woods for hours on end. Already getting sores on her bare feet as she tracked through the mud and sharp stones on the path.
Eventually after walking for a few hours, she realized her bandages started to become worn out as they started falling apart. Mileena quickly tried to hold the bandages in place so they wouldn't fall off and leave her completely naked. She started to walk faster and faster until she looked up and saw a house only a mile away. She walked towards the house and sneakily maneuvered her way over to the house in the middle of the Outworld forest.
Mileena hid behind the bush as she peered out from over it. She looked and saw that behind the home was several clothe lines with several articles of clothing strapped to the lines. Mileena smirked as she scanned the area once more to make sure none of the home owners were still there. As she thought, nobody was home as she walked out of the bush and snatched several articles of clothing from the clothing lines. She grabbed a violet shirt and ripped it, making a veil for herself in order to not draw any unwanted attention.
She then left the house and made her way to the capital of Outworld, the city her father Shao Kahn lived in and ruled his subjects with an iron fist. Mileena was stalking around an alleyway between two buildings as she looked around as the many Outworlders either walking or doing business with the merchants. As several guards were standing on each block.
"*Sigh*... Wonderful. Just wonderful." Said Mileena sarcastically as she walked down the street in robes and clothing that covered most of her body and face. She walked passed the guards and let out a sigh of relief, the guards were completely clueless as Mileena just walked past them. Mileena continued to look around the streets, getting more and more angry of how she was unrightfully usurped by some foolish Osh-Tekk wannabe Kahn. If she knew of this treachery, she would've killed him in a heartbeat. She grew even angrier as she looked around and saw all the posters with Kotal Kahn's face. It infuriated Mileena to have to even look at an illustration of that traitors face.
"Once I find him... I will skin him alive. I will make him suffer..." Growled Mileena as she continued to walk down the streets of Outworld. Nearly speedwalking, but then slowed down as one guard looked at her.
After a bit more of walking, she made her way to the Kolosseum that once belonged to her father. The true Kahn. She managed to sneak in remaining unseen. She then made her way to the upper levels of the Kolosseum where she heard hundreds of Outworlders cheering at what was going on in the middle of the stadium. Mileena looked down to see that Kotal Kahn was sitting in her fathers chair, watching a fight between two warrior who were battling for the Kahn's amusement. To the left of Kotal stood the Earthrealmer Erron Black and to the emperors right stood Reptile and Ermac.
Mileena tightened her hands into fists, as her nails dug into the palms of her hands and drew blood. All she wanted to do was kill all of them for what they've done to her. Besides Kotal himself, the one who he wanted to kill the most was that disgusting insect D'vorah. But unfortunately for Mileena, she was nowhere to be found.
Mileena might have been mad, but she wasn't stupid. She knew before she could even get within twenty feet of Kotal Kahn she would be killed on the spot.
"Hmm... I will kill you. All of you for your betrayal... but not today, maybe not tomorrow... but I will make you pay..." Growled Mileena under her voice, but luckily for her, nobody heard her due to all the cheering in the crowd.
Mileena took one final look at the emperor sitting in his throne, glaring at him before turning and walking out of the stadium.
Outworld: 1 Week Ago
'My name is Mileena, the daughter of Shao Kahn and the rightful ruler of Outworld. And I am alone. I was overthrown by those who I have once trusted, some Osh-Tekk fool who led a rebellion against me and stole my rightful place. I led my own rebellion afterwards to try and regain my rightful place. But, it wouldn't go as planned. I would be captured and executed by Kotal. Either a lucky stroke of fate or an unlucky curse from the Elder Gods would resurrect me in a new body where I was originally born into the world. I was unsure how it was even possible, but regardless when I returned at least a month had passed by during my departure from the living realms. Shinnok tried to conquer Earthrealm with MY amulet, feeding off Earthrealms life force, along with that coward Kotal instantly started fighing for that fallen Elder God when he discovered what was going on. Shinnok was defeated and everything returned to normal. But when I returned, I was completely alone...'
'My two closest allies Tanya and Rain were gone. Tanya completely fell off the map with Rain being very skillful at covering his tracks. Many of the Tarkatans who supported me and who have fought for me had their numbers severely decreased by Kotal's slaughtering of them. The survivors fled to the farthest reaches of Kotal's regime and want nothing to do with fighting the false emperor any longer. I was alone. I was once a princess, and Empress... But now I have to dig though the trash just to survive and take any odd job I can just to survive. Like any commoner I lived on the streets, with most nights sleeping in the woods, the streets, or an abandoned building. After looking for around 5 months, I knew I had no allies left in Outworld. For now at least. There was nothing left for me. But I made a solemn vow that I would return to claim my throne. Some day...'
'Luckily, I would meet an old sorcerer and pay him everything in my savings to create a portal to allow me to crossover to Earthrealm... I absolutely despised Earthrealm, just like Outworld I was surrounded by enemies on all sides. Along with being the home of my fathers murderers, but I had no choice. My father was an ally to the Black Dragon, along with myself when I hired Kano to fight for me. Of course, he was a snake who would work for anyone that would pay him the highest price and not hesitate to stab anyone in the back. That coward... but, I had no choice. I arrived in Earthrealm, from what I know about Earthrealm geology, I believe I was in a region known as Japan. I would've paid the sorcerer to create a portal directly to the Black Dragon home base, but with the pitiful amount of money I have gathered, I could only take what I could get.'
'I made my way through the woods of Japan, doing everything I could to avoid high populated areas, every now and then walking through a small town when I had no other choice. I did everything I could to look for the Black Dragon, but unfortunately I stumbled into the wrong town. A small town surrounded by miles and miles of untamed wilderness I traveled to was completely controlled by a crime organization that I also once hired known as the Red Dragon. The Black Dragon were indeed nothing but a pit of vipers, but at the very least they didn't stab me in the back like the Red Dragon did. And since they were involved in slave trade and weapons trade between Earthrealm and Outworld, it was in danger. Most likely just like everyone else, the Red Dragon probably thinks that I'm dead as well. But I can't take any chances. I was foolish enough to walk through the town in a completely unsuspecting manor. One of those Red Dragon's must have identified me when I was walking down the street, reporting me to their higher ups. I had no idea if they thought I was just some female Tarkatan wandering through Earthrealm for some unknown reason. Or if they thought I was indeed the fallen Empress of Outworld, Mileena. Red Dragon thugs chased me all over the town, but luckily I killed several of them as I fled away into the woods. I had no other choice, I ran.'
Earthrealm: Japan, the Forest
Mileena ran through heaven knows how many miles of woodlands to escape her pursuers. She stops to catch her breath as she leans up against a nearby tree, and pants heavily.
"This way! I think she went this way!" Yelled a member of the Red Dragon. Mileena looked back only to see several Red Dragon goons chasing after her.
"Damn!" Yelled Mileena as she charged up one of her sai's and tossed it at the men, hitting one of them in the shoulder as Mileena took this opportunity to run as fast as she could. She was getting farther and father away from her pursuers, just as she thought she would finally give them the slip, she would feel a jolt of extreme pain in her right leg after she heard a gunshot.
Bam!
The ex-empress fell to the ground, her left leg having a nasty bullet hole in it that was just gushing with blood. Mileena growled in pain as she brought her knee up and clutched the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
"No need to try to stop the bleeding, babe. We won't let you die." Mileena looked up to see the leader of the Red Dragon thugs were standing over her, around 23 of them in total. All carrying firearms. Mileena just looked up and glared.
"What do you worms want from me!?" Growled Mileena as she looked up as them, the leader took off his mask and bent down to address Mileena.
"Your Mileena, right? The fallen empress? We heard Kotal Kahn killed your ugly ass... guess that was nothing but a rumor. Can you imagine how much he would pay us if we brought you to him in chains?" Said the lead thug.
"I would rather die by your hands then die to that usurper! You'll have to kill me in order to drag me to him! Either way, I promise even with a hole in my leg I will take as many as you bastards down as I can!" Yelled Mileena as the thugs just laughed at her, the lead thug walked forward, lifted up his foot, and stomped down on Mileena's wound, as the half-tarkatan cried in agony. As the Red Dragon thugs continued to laugh.
"No, here's how it's going to go down, honey. You come with us peacefully, and ALL we will do to you is cut out that nasty tongue of yours so you can't use that naughty language around me or my pals anymore. What do ya say?" Asked the lead thug as he bend down to meet Mileena's face, only to be met with Mileena spitting in his face.
(Puh!)
"Burn in hell, you disgusting Earthrealmer." Growled Mileena as the lead thug remained silent and stood back up with a frustrated look, he wiped the glob of spit away from his face as he spoke.
"I couldn't say I didn't tried to be nice..." Said the lead thug as he looked over at his friends and nodded.
All of the Red Dragons then bent down, grabbing Mileena's arms and feet as they held her down. All the while, the thugs were laughing and talking amongst themselves as Mileena viciously thrashed here and there. Trying to break free of the men's iron grips. But it was no use.
"Hey, before ya do it... sure we can't... have 'fun' with her?" Asked one of the men in the most slimy way possible.
"First we take her to Daegon. And ONLY if he allows it." Said the lead thug as he pulled out a survivors knife and looked down at Mileena with a dark smile.
"What are you bastards going to do to me!? I swear I will rip your throats out one by one, and make you watch as I eat them!" Threatened Mileena as one of the men slapped her across the face.
"Will you just shut the fuck up? Fucking Christ man, are you ready yet? I'm getting tired of this bitch's chatter!" Yelled one of the men in frustration. The lead thug stared down at Mileena silently as he finally spoke.
"Hold her mouth open. You should've kept your mouth shut, sweetie." And just as he commanded, several Red Dragon thugs reached forward and pried Mileena's mouth open. Mileena tried her best to bite down and chop off all their fingers, but with four men holding her mouth open, it was too much for the muscles in her mouth.
"Now... Open wide." Said the lead thug as he move closer, reaching into Mileena's mouth as he grabbed her tongue and held it out as he brought his knife closer.
Mileena thrashed as hard as she could, trying to get away. But it was not use. "GUA AWAI!" Yelled Mileena, unable to complete her sentence being unable to move her jaws. As the knife was only a few inches away from cutting out Mileena's tongue...
The lead Thug heard the noise of a chain moving, looking up in confusion, a spear pierced through his skull as Mileena and all the Red Dragon thugs instantly stopped, with the lead thugs blood, bits of skull, and brains splattered all over the ground and everyone else.
"I WARNED YOU TO NEVER COME BACK!" Yelled the voice of a man as the man who was clad in yellow pulled the lead thug up in the air and used him as a weapon, swinging the man back down and knocking all the other thugs away from the terrified Mileena.
Scorpion continued to swing the man around and knocked several more Red Dragon thugs aside. As Scorpion continued to swing the blunt instrument corpse around, he saw one of the Red Dragon thugs on the ground, the one who suggested the horrific act to perform on Mileena after they brought her to Daegon.
The bleeding thug looked up at the yellow clad ninja as the ninja swung the body of the lead thug straight down onto the bleeding thug with such force, it splattered both of the men in a gory spectacular way with bits of gore, bone, arms, legs, and tons of blood flying everywhere.
The yellow clad ninja then pulled back his spear and chain as it instantly wrapped around his hand.
"I told you this ten years ago you Red Dragon scum... this is Shirai Ryu territory... We let you go last time out of the kindness of our heart. But after trespassing a second time along with the vile act you were about to perform, you will die." Growled the yellow clad ninja as the Red Dragon thugs aimed their weapons at him. The thug in front of all the rest spoke.
"You think we're stupid or something? We came prepared this time! What's going to happen now is all of you assholes are going to die and me and my friends are going to take this ugly bitch and leave." Said the thug with a slimy smirk on his face.
"No, you won't." Said a younger man with a chrome skull deigned mask on his face, standing next to the yellow ninja, dragging one of his whips as he activated the blades on it. And just like that, dozens of Shirai Ryu appeared from the shadows, surrounding all the thugs.
Just as the thugs were looking around, a rope spear shot forward yet again and pierced his chest.
"GET OVER HERE!" Yelled the yellow clad ninja pulling the thug who just spoke forward as he pulled out his sword and swung it down as the man headed towards him. Slicing the man in half vertically. With blood flying everywhere as the two halves of the man falling to the ground.
"So, who's next?" Asked the yellow clad ninja.
The battle didn't last long, it shouldn't even have been called a battle as the Shirai Ryu mercilessly slaughtered and tore apart the band of criminals. Leaving their bloody remains for the birds.
All the while, Mileena lost consciousness due to her blood loss. After the the battle was finally over, the yellow clad ninja and the young man walked over to Mileena who was lying on the ground unconscious.
"Why was the Red Dragon after this woman? What did she-..." But the young man stopped in mid sentence as he got a much clearer look at the woman in front of him.
"Mileena!? Wait! How is that even possible!?" Yelled Takeda as his master Hanzo looked over at him.
"What?" Asked the yellow clad ninja.
"Master Hanzo, this is Mileena! You know, Shao Kahn's crazy daughter! Me Jacqui, Cassie, and Jin all saw her die! This can't be possible! It's like the Twilight Zone or something!" Yelled the young man.
"Mileena? I only heard of her by mouth... If you really saw Mileena die, it doesn't matter. She's here and she needs help." Hanzo declared as he scooped the unconscious woman up and held her in his arms.
"Takeda, alert the medics back at the temple. And call Commander Blade, she will want to see this." Ordered Hanzo holding Mileena in his arms as he walked off.
"Yes, Grandmaster." Replied Tekeda as he followed.
Earthrealm: Japan, The Rebuilt Temple of the Shirai Ryu
Mileena was lying in a bed with sheets covering her figure, unseen from an observer standing over her bed was the thick cast surrounding Mileena's leg where she was shot. Mileena was just starting to come out of her unconscious state, still delirious from the extreme stress and blood loss, everything sounded fuzzy and distant. But just like waking up from a deep sleep, Mileena started to groan and hear voices.
"Are you serious Hasashi? That can't be right, our reports specifically state that Mileena was executed by Kotal Kahn. This has to be some kind of impostor." Said a female voice.
"I know it sounds hard to believe Commander Blade, I saw Mileena die myself. But here she is, alive and breathing." Said a younger male voice.
"And you saved her from a bunch of Red Dragon goons? I wonder why they were chasing her." Said an older male voice.
"As I stated before, Cage. I do not know. My best guess was that those snakes wanted to kidnap Mileena and sell her back to Kotal for a high price." Said the voice of a man with a Japanese accent.
"Why is she in Earthrealm out of all places? I thought if she would return she would try to kill Kotal and his followers." Said the voice of the young man again.
"I doubt she would have any of her followers left. After what Kotal did to the Tarkatans and the rest of her followers, she would be totally alone. I still want to know why she came to Earthrealm out of all places." Said the voice of the older woman as Mileena's groans and moans started to get louder, she tossed and turned as she started to come out of her unconscious state. Mileena slowly opened her eyes and looked around. Her vision was still blurry as the four voices stopped talking.
"Well, well, well, speak of the devil. Looks like ButterFace finally woke up from her beauty nap." Said the arrogant voice of the Earthrealm actor known as Johnny Cage.
"Quiet down, Johnny. She's probably scared and confused. We must approach this delicately so we won't come off as a threat." Said the voice of the special agent Sonya Blade.
"Come off as a threat to her?! We're not the ones with daggers as teeth here." Said Tekeda as Mileena's vision and hearing fully returned as she looked around. She saw Commander Sonya Blade, Johnny Cage, Takeda, and the ex-specter known as Hanzo Hasashi standing there and looking over her. But as Mileena tried to move, she felt something around her right wrist holding her back. She stopped and looked over to see that her right hand was handcuffed to the metal bed frame and that she was changed into a new pair of white clean clothes.
"What the-!? What is this?! Where am I?! What do you Earthrealmers want?!" Growled Mileena as she looked over to the four Earthrealmers who all remained unphased, except for Takeda. Commander Blade retained a stern look as she took a step forward at Mileena and spoke.
"Mileena, we need to talk."
Note: As a quick sidenote I'd like to state that this story is meant to be as accurate to the story and characters as possible. So that doesn't mean Scorpion and Mileena will get together in the very next chapter, or Mileena having the child-like seductive personality that the internet likes to portray her as so often. She will be more of a bratty and aggressive spoiled princess, but later on change and develop to a more well-rounded, kind, and understanding character. Also, a few minor OC's MAY pop up, for no other reason then for plot development. Don't worry, if they do pop up they won't take over the story. Anyway, leave a review and tell me what you think. Thanks for reading.
#Mortal Kombat#fanfiction#Hanzo Hasashi#Scorpion#mileena#hanzleena#scorpionxmileena#red dragon#johnny cage#sonya blade#takeda takahashi#kotal kahn
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