#i refuse to tag him or spell his name correctly

[doe-eye-oswald]

So... is it ever addressed in the show how Bourbon actively investigating Akai’s death and involving other BO members with it really put Kir in danger? Like, whether he cared or not, he must have realised that if Akai was still alive she must've helped fake his death.

Or did that just get swept under the rug like the rest of Kir's existence?

[kikitakite]

I saw your callout in the Gale tag for that one user (no comment on them, tho ty for the callout bc i'd seen them in the notes of my fics) and was curious if you could elaborate on some of the Mystra incidents you described towards the end of the post? I'm new to the lore of the setting and find it hard to research (which makes sense given its importance to dnd), so I've heard a lot of conflicting things about Mystra's portrayal in the wider series. No pressure, obviously!

No problem! And yea, I've seen her arguing in the posts of a few people I follow or just Gale-related posts I find interesting. Usually I don't get involved in stuff like this, but I noticed a constant pattern and then all the homophobic shit so I went off a little.

Unfortunately it's hard to find exact examples of the Mystra lore because certain modules aren't very popular or even free to access, but if you're interested the best way to learn about her is by reading the Elminster novels. There's twelve total, dating all the way back to 1994, and they detail Elminster's adventures. I'll be honest though, some of them are a hard read and written through the lens of a man who's admitted very creative, but also has a lot of problematic ideas.

In the first book Elminster is a child. His entire town gets wiped out by mages, thereby making him hostile toward magic. He sneaks into Mystra's temple to deface her statue one night, but she appears before him and basically gaslights him into learning magic and becoming her rare Chosen. He becomes a wizard and cleric basically overnight, until eventually he multiclasses into pretty much every class type in DnD. As you can imagine a lot of players aren't too fond of Elminster, as he's a well known self-insert of the author and pretty annoying to run into during campaigns. None of my dungeon masters like him anyway.

He also becomes one of Mystra's most loyal followers, but she fucks with him over and over, turning him into a woman to teach him a lesson and SLEEPING with him in that form, berating him when he struggles with the torture he endures when he gets stuck in the hells, making him reproduce without his knowledge and getting jealous when he gives his partners more attention. Because she's a very jealous goddess, which I think the game vaguely touches on but not really.

I wish I had the time to flip through all the novels and give exact citations but the best I can do is suggest them, because they're so eye opening. She's considered a neutral good goddess, but neutral gods often do terrible things for the sake of their domain. I think it needs to be noted that Mystra, as with all gods in the pantheon, only cares about her portfolio. She isn't wrong for that, but it doesn't mean she's blameless when she messes with people's lives. She's done a lot of good but she's also made horrible decisions, especially where her followers are concerned.

For example, Elminster having children he doesn't know about. He has a daughter named Narnra. Her conception was... pretty fucked up. Basically a song dragon named Ammaratha Cyndusk was an occasional lover of Elminster's (he has a lot of those because of course he does) and she wanted to bear his child, but since he's a Chosen of Mystra he can control his fertility. Magic birth control, basically. He didn't want a kid so Ammaratha went behind his back to learn a counterspell that would make him fertile during sex. The man she asked refused to teach her because...duh that's messed up, but then Mystra intervened and told him to teach her the spell because she wanted Elminster's "seed to spread". Ammaratha never told him and neither did Mystra. No matter what the reasons, that was NOT consensual on Elminster's part, and it happened two more times, resulting in two more daughters with different women. If I remember correctly Elminster did eventually find out waaaaay later when they were all adults, but it never amounted to anything.

The sisters I was taking about are the Seven Sisters, Mystra's "daughters". And I put "daughters" in quotations because Mystra possessed the body of a woman named Elué and impregnated her without her consent. She slept with the woman's husband (again, while possessing her body) and made them sire seven children. This of course lead to Elué's death because the constant flow of magic in her body was too much for her to handle. Her grieving husband broke after she died and eventually left, abandoning his daughters and earning Mystra's scorn...as if he was in the wrong. The sisters were then orphaned and raised by foster families.

That said, most of the awful things anyone can say about Mystra were the doings of her previous incarnations so ultimately it doesn't apply to the Mystra of BG3. In fact, this third Mystra is supposed to be a new and improved goddess who's nicer to her followers. So her portrayal in BG3 annoyed a lot of DnD fans. I should also point out that Mystra has two types of fans: ones who will defend everything she does, even when it's fucked up beyond all comprehension, and the ones who will tell you she's a true neutral goddess capable of good and bad. I'm the latter. There are plenty examples of Mystra sticking her neck out for innocents, but there's also examples of her doing the most horrendous shit imaginable.

A lot of veteran players, at least the ones I know, are upset with the portrayal of Mystra in BG3 because her plan to end the Absolute is, quite frankly, stupid. Your party is the best chance anyone has of ending the threat, but she asks Gale to nuke himself and possibly tens of thousands, which makes no sense because she could've just sent her mages/clerics to deal with the problem. And there was no guarantee the bomb would've worked anyway. She put all the responsibility on one man and it DEFINITELY comes off as vindictive. That isn't out if character for her but she's not SUPPOSED to be that bad anymore. For a lot of DnD players it felt like she was reverting back to her old habits.

I think there's also a part in the game where you can directly ask Gale why she doesn't just blip the Absolute out of existence and he says something like, "She could but Ao won't allow it." That was also really strange for a lot of veteran players to hear because Gale drops Ao's name like it's nothing. Most people (especially if they're new to the franchise) wouldn't know this but most people in Faerûn don't know who Ao is! Because he wiped people's memories of his existence! I suppose it does make sense for Gale to know that name, since Mystra probably explained the pantheon to him, but it's VERY unlikely tav would know it. So during that conversation all I could picture was tav tilting their head like, "Huh? Who? Whaaa?"

And on top of that......Ao absolutely WOULD allow it because the Absolute effects the Weave and every other god! It had the potential to ruin the balance of the universe, which makes Ao a very angry boy. Balance is one of the ONLY things he cares about. The Dead Three were stealing souls and worshippers, which gods needs to survive, and dying gods disrupts the balance. It's a whole circle of chaos. So the only conclusion left for me to extrapolate is this: Mystra just really, really wanted Gale to kill himself to prove his devotion to her. Which...isn't great. Bad look for her.

It's kind of like how Raphael thinks the Crown of Karsus is going to help him end the Blood War and take over the hells. DnD players laughed during his epilogue because...no it won't lol. He doesn't stand a chance even with the crown. He's arrogant and he's gonna get slapped by his daddy and all the other archdevils, the same way Gale gets slapped by Mystra if he ascends. Even the Absolute ending of the game wouldn't last long because the gods would go to war with the Dead Three, wipe them out and rebuild Faerûn, which has happened many times in past DnD campaigns. Mystra alone has torn worlds apart and glued them back together. The main crisis of BG3 is saving the world you live in or everybody dies. For the gods it's just a Tuesday. I mean look at how Withers owns the Dead Three with a wave of his hand at the end of the game. Mystra COULD'VE killed the Absolute, just as she could've removed the orb from Gale's chest the moment it happened. She just didn't WANT to. She wanted him to die. She wanted him to chastise himself. She wanted him to suffer and come crawling back to her as an obedient follower. She wanted him to learn a harsh and honestly unfair lesson, which is a terrible throwback to her previous incarnations.

[imbadatwrighting]

Sneaky Cat

Requested

I was going to write this as a songfic but changed my mind last minute so it took a little longer than expected. Anyways to the person who asked for this I had to smush some things together I hope that’s alright and the smut lowkey ain’t dat great. Also just started watch future man…do what you want with that information

Pairing: Selina Kyle x Male reader

Tags: NSFW 18+ at the end, sex with plot? (Idk I’ve never read a post with that), Wayne!reader, adopted!reader, sweet!reader, fluff, smut, Bruce and reader having tension, no use of Y/n, 2nd pov, soft dom!reader, brother issues, lowkey rushed to the sex half way through, oral (reader giving), unprotected sex, cream pie, missionary , prolly a lot of spelling errors

“Selina! Have you seen my tie?” Your voice boomed across the whole second floor of the house unintentionally.

“This tie?” your girlfriend of two years asked, holding up a gold tie. She leaned against the door frame staring at you with her classic cat eyes.

A smile plastered on your face, walking towards her. “This is why I love you,” you grinned, reaching down to plant a kiss on her lips and grab the tie.

You could feel the smirk she made through the kiss before breaking it off. “No other reasons?” she asked, a devious smile on her face.

You walked back to your mirror, staring at her through it while you put your tie on. “Not any I can remember I’m afraid.”

She swayed closer to you, wrapping her hands around your waist and maneuvering her head to be beside your shoulder. “That’s too bad. Here I was thinking you loved me for my brilliant ideas,” she pouted before hiding her mouth with your shoulder so you couldn’t see her smile.

A small groan left your lips as you ran your hands through your hair. “I wouldn’t say making me go to this gala was a good idea.”

“You own the most stocks and are a co-owner of Wayne Enterprises, I’m afraid you have to go.”

You turned around to face her, slowly wrapping your arms around her waist. Her hands moved up to your chest, smoothing out a wrinkle. “You only want me to go so you can steal valuables from the guests, my dearest.”

Selina huffed before turning away towards the door. Her hips swayed as she walked away. “Let’s not leave Alfred waiting much longer mi amor,” she grinned.

You stood still for a moment, unsure of what you heard was right. You ran towards Selina, observing her eyes for any sense of sarcasm or lying.

“Do not tell me Bruce will be there too,” you spoke slowly, walking down the steps of your mansion with Selina. The sounds of heeled shoes hitting marble, echoed in the area.

“If I remember correctly, your parents gave Wayne Enterprises to both you and Bruce and he still plays apart in it,” she replied hastily, not caring enough to make eye contact.

“When he’s not playing good guy in his bat costume, sure, but all he cares about is fighting crime over and over again, he cares little about what happens to Wayne Enterprises or even me!”

“If I remember correctly you fight crime too.” Selina walked faster, reaching the first floor before you, grabbing a necklace on the marble counter.

She stared at the black diamonds shinning under the light, eventually moving her hand with the necklace towards you, gesturing you to put it on her.

You sighed, grabbing the necklace. “When I was with his all I did was stare at the computers in his little cave.”

“You still do,” Selina hummed.

“That different,” you grumbled. “When I was working with him, no one even knew my name or I was a vigilante at all. You had no idea who Umbra Mortis was after I told you. Or that I was his brother.”

“I do now. People know who Umbra Mortis is now.” Selina turned to face your towering figure after felling the necklace be latched on.

“They still don’t know I’m his brother. He refuses to tell people I’m his brother because I was adopted.”

“That’s not true,” Selina said, following you out the door.

“How’d you know? You ask him?” You smirked.

“Maybe,” Selina replied, before grabbing you arm, only being a couple feet away from the limo containing your brother and his butler. “Listen be nice to him and you might even get a special treat,” she grinned, pulling you down into a kiss.

It felt longer that it was but you savored every second of it. You observed the taste of cherries that presented itself onto your tongue.

You hummed as she broke away from the the kiss slowly. You wished you didn’t have to go to the gala, instead staying home with Selina watching her favorite movie in bed.

You opened the door of the limo, letting Selina get in before you while you held the door. You could hear pleasantries given from where you stood as you desperately wished you would have to get in the limo with you older brother.

You could feel your brothers gaze on you as you entered the limo.

“Greeting Master Wayne,” Alfred nodded, quickly driving off. You smiled at the man, he always had called you by your last name since you could remember. It wasn’t that you weren’t close to him, he just wanted to always show his upmost respect towards you.

“Brother,” Bruce greeted. It didn’t seem like the type of greeting you would give your brother, more like a greeting to a stranger.

A curt nod was given to Bruce as you intertwined your hand with Selina’s soft hands. Your fingers played with her rings that she stole from multiple museums.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Bruce brought up, eyes still trained on your figure. Your eyes broke away from Selina’s perfect figure.

“Whose fault was that?” you murmured, rolling your eyes. Selina’s heeled foot quickly hit your leg in annoyance. Your eyes quickly looked over to your girlfriend before moving back to look at Bruce.

Bruce paid no mind to your comment. “I see,” he commented, not saying anything else.

A wave of awkwardness took over the limo as the two brothers or interact with each other, or at least one of them did.

“Talk to him, querido,” Selina whispered in your ear, running her nails down your suit.

You rolled your eyes not looking at your girlfriend. “What are you doing here Bruce?” you say bluntly, being forced to say something.

“I’m going to a gala, brother. It’s good for my image.”

“Alfred making you go?”

“It seems you know me too well brother.”

You hummed. “Well, after having to be around you, most of my life, it seems I have to. If not, I might have become a worse brother than you.”

Selena scoff at you as Bruce squinted his eyes. “I gave you no reason to say I am a bad brother.”

An irked expression fell on your face as you glared lightly at your brother. “You have multiple recent to being a bad brother! You left me on a mountain by myself, at fifteen!”

An annoyed expression fell on Bruce’s face. ���How many times do I have to tell you it was an accident, I thought you already left,” he said, fingers massaging his temple.

“How am I supposed to believe that when just an hour before you were screaming at me and wishing I wasn’t in your life,” you glared, feeling Selena’s hands down your back and comfort and also as a warning.

“Boys, enough of this, we’re already at this gala so pretend you like each other,” Selina smirked, an obvious fake smile before elegantly getting out of the limo.

You spared Bruce no mind as you got out after your girlfriend, you hand finding the perfect resting spot on her waist.

“Just talking to me and a couple guests won’t get anything you’re hoping for tonight,” she whispered, slowly pushing your arms off her waist, a smile still on her face. “Talk to Bruce or you’re getting nothing tonight.”

With that same grinning smile she walked off, most likely towards the bar full of drunk old fish man with pockets full of money.

With a sigh you slowed your walking, letting Bruce catch up to you. “My apologies for my inappropriate acts Bruce.”

“Don’t act like that,” he said, talking in a whisper, occasionally nodding his head at a couple men and woman.

“Act like what?” you ask.

“Like we’re not brothers. You haven’t talked to me like a brother since you were fifteen.”

“You throw me in the side Bruce, you always have. I had no reason to treat you like a brother when you were too busy to acknowledge me.”

Bruce looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face before taking a deep breath.

You went to scoff before he spoke up. “I’m sorry,” he said is a hushed voice. It almost made you stop in your tracks. Not once has your brother ever apologized to you. Not when he pushed you down the stairs, or when he played a mean April fools day prank on you.

You stayed silent for a minute smiling when contractors and other business partners walked by.

You didn’t care about them at the moment, your first thought was on your brother. Then of course Selina forty feet away at the bar.

“I’m sorry as well… brother,” you spoke, slowly walking away from Bruce towards Selina.

“I talked to him and even said sorry,” you smile, hand going up to her shoulders.

She turned around staring up into your eyes. “Considering Bruce looks like a kicked puppy I would say you did it like you were supposed to.”

You frowned at her words. “Listen it’s the best you’re going to get out of me tonight, now can we just go home?”

Selina digs a gold watch out of her purse, looking at the time. “We’ve been here for no more than ten minutes so unfortunately not mi amor.”

“You’re just being mean at this point,” you groan walking to wherever Selina sways to.

“At least an hour then we can leave,” she smirks pulling you to the dance floor. “For now, we dance.” She puts one arm around your neck and the other into your hand and she waltz’s to the relaxing music.

Your eyes met her sparkling black ones as waves of emotion overflowed your body. She made you fall in love with her every day.

“I can’t stay here Selina,” you growled in her ear.

She paid no mind to you as she twirled and danced. She was enjoying this and you both knew it.

“Selina,” you growled once again. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait. I’m not going home because you’re horny.”

Your hand traveled down her waist, lightly grazing her ass. Her subtly eyed you, eyes narrowing down. “Relax my love, no one is watching,” you whispered, softly biting her ear as you leaned down.

You could feel Selina get hotter as you continued to dance on the dance floor. Your thoughts were not on Bruce nor anyone else but Selina. You didn’t care about anything except Selina.

“You’re playing a dirty game baby,” Selina murmured in your ear, hands gripping your body.

“I wouldn’t have to if we left.”

Selina stayed silent once more, like she was contemplating the answer she would choose. “…fine,” she murmured.

A grin fell on your face before you dragged her out of the gala, you opened the door of a rentable limo. You didn’t have to say any words to the man. Almost everyone in Gotham knew where you lived. It was hard to miss it.

Selina sat down close to you, kissing your neck. You exhaled a breath, holding her waist. “If you keep it up, I’m going to get a boner before we get home,” you groan.

She seemed to only hum and that, keeping up with the original pace.

The drive home seemed longer than anything before. It felt like the limo driver was going slower on purpose. Selina didn’t let it stop her as she spread hickeys all over your neck.

The white limo stopped at the entrance to your mansion. Selina and you quickly rushed out, leaving behind cash for the driver. Poor man must have been a little traumatized.

You pushed Selina through the door into your room. Her hot breath could be felt on your face.

You unzipped her black dress before she reach for her necklace. “No,” you breathed out. “Keep it on.”

You could feel her lightly moan against your neck as you removed your tie and shirt.

You hoisted Selina up before gently throwing her on the bed.

“Fuck,” you moaned out. Crawling on the bed to be face to face with your girlfriend. “You’re so hot baby.”

Her hands reached up to your neck, pulling you down into her. The kiss was sloppy; full of lust. Her legs wrapped around your unclothed waist.

You head traveled down kisses her neck towards her tits. She grabbed onto your hair as you left a trail of kisses to her clit.

Your hot breath only made her wetter. You licked her clit slowly before making eye contact with her. She let out a breathy moan as you stared her down. Your mouth latched onto her clit sucking and licking like a mad man.

“Fuck,” she moaned, gripping your hair harder. You let out a quick sound before resuming your task.

“God I love your pussy,” you rasped, sticking two fingers into her drenched hole. Her shaky legs wrapped around your head.

Your fingers thrusted in and out of her as your teeth lightly grazed her clit. She could feel her orgasm already coming. “Baby,” she groaned, quickly tapping your head. You removed your mouth from her wet clit as you looked up at her.

“I need it in me,” she whispered, almost like she was embarrassed. She could hear you undoing your zipper as soon as the words came out of her mouth.

Her legs released you from her grip as she pulled you up to be face to face with her. She could feel your hard cock rubbing against her clit. A soft moan came out of her as her arms wrapped around your neck.

“I’ve wanted you all day, baby,” you groan, lips attacking her own as you slowly entered her wet pussy.

“I know,” she smirked out before moaning loudly as you thrusted in and out of her. “God, I forgot how big you were.”

Your arm traveled down to her waist giving you a better angle to thrust into her. “You’re so tight, honey,” you breath out, hair falling down on your eyes.

Nails grazed down your back as you thrusted harder into your girlfriend. Her girlfriend arched your back letting out a whimper. “I’m close baby,” she whimpered feeling her orgasm about to come.

“Just a little more. You can hold out baby,” you grunted, pounding into her at an inhuman pace. Your cock overwhelming her senses.

Her legs shook as her head turned to the side, giving you a better view of her neck. “I’m close, I’m so fucking close,” she panted.

Your hand gripped her waist tighter, feeling her slowly get tighter. “Let go baby,” you muttered, feeling your release about to come.

A high pitched moan left your girlfriend as her pussy tightened around you and legs vibrated rapidly. You gave a few more quick thrusts before coming inside her.

Your moved you hand to move your girlfriend face towards you. Her fucked out eyes looked at you as she panted hard.

You slowly pulled out of her before kissing the top of her head. “I love you,” you sighed, getting up to clean her up.

“Bath or no bath?” you asked, grabbing a hand towel from the bathroom.

“No bath,” she grinned weakly, pulling you towards her. “Just want you.”

“You got me baby,” you smirked, handing her one of your comfy shirts after cleaning her up the best you could.

She slipped on your shirt, it draped over her figure as she huddled towards your figure getting in bed.

You looked at the shirt, too big for your girlfriend. “God just looking at you turns me on.” You kissed your smiling girlfriend.

“You’re handling that issue yourself.”

You smiled harder at her. You didn’t care about Bruce in the moment or fighting crime, just caring about marrying the girl laying next to you.

[greenygreenland]

Dream A Little Dream Of Me: Norman x Reader

-MANGA SPOILERS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! 

-NOTE: YOU’RE BOTH AGED UP SO DON’T START TELLING ME FBI’S GONNA COME TO MY DOOR 😂😂

-THE TIMELINE IS A BIT MESSED UP SO JUST IGNORE IT COMPLETELY AND DON'T ASK ME LOL

-also, is it just me or do thick eyebrows look really cute??? Norman has pretty thick brows compared everyone else and I think they're cute 

WARNINGS: Kissing lol

Summary: You finally see Norman again.

Life had to be the scariest thing you'd ever faced. It threw the bad, the good, the everything your way until you could barely stand. Until you were left broken and mangled and shattered. Life was scary. It was cruel. Yet somehow, today was different.

You thought it was a dream. After all, how could it be reality when the boy in front of you died a year and some months ago? He had been shipped out, left for dead because it was a part of his stupid escape plan.

So how was it he stood before you? Breathing? Smiling? Living?

The office door closed behind you with a soft click. It bathed the room in silence, as if for a moment, the world decided to give you a second to breathe. A second to take in the wonderous sight before you.

The boy's name stuck in your throat. He had changed, not only in height, but stature and appearance. Norman was older, and he grew up to be more handsome than any runway model could ever be.

"(Y/n)," he gently said. "I'm glad you're well."

That was all it took. One sentence and you tackled him in the tightest hug your trembling arms could muster. "Norman...!" To have his arms around you, to hear the beating of his heart--it was a relief. A miracle sent by the gods. "You’re so stupid!"

No, he was more than stupid. He had to be the dumbest boy alive to think that it was okay to sacrifice himself for the sake of your family. You all were supposed to escape together just like Emma said. No one was supposed to be left behind, yet Norman--bless his heart--acted on his own.

You hugged him as if he would disappear if you let go. "We were all supposed to leave together. But you--I thought you--shipped out--and then--!" You chocked on your words. What more could you say anyway?

You buried your face in the crook of his neck. The muffled sob that ripped through your throat was more than Norman could handle. His knees went weak and you both slowly sunk to the floor in a heap. 

"I'm here." he gently said. "I'm not going anywhere (Y/n)."

Despite the steadiness in Norman's voice, his shoulders hitched, and he sniffled. "I'm here." he repeated. "I-I'm here." It sounded like he were reassuring himself that he wouldn't leave you so soon, as if he were scared too. Not for the way you sobbed and sobbed, but for the ache in his heart that seemed to beat in sync with yours.

Slowly, your sobs turned to quiet sniffles, which then silenced into nothing but tiny hiccups. You basked in Norman's warm embrace. He didn't hold you too tightly, as if he were afraid it would shatter you to pieces. Instead, he pulled you close to his side and leaned on his desk behind.

You rested your head on his chest, taking the time to memorise his scent. Parchment, the woods, and old books. You liked that, it was comforting to know he still smelled the same. On the other hand, his voice wasn’t as smooth or rounded as it once was. It was icy. No one seemed to notice that tiny sharpness that hit the end of each note he spoke. You wondered what could've made his kind heart harden.

Sure, Norman was still the same Norman you remembered, but something about the way he acted seemed off. He was clingy, much more than he ever was. Maybe he just missed you? No, that couldn't be right. Norman acted as if he were running out of time. He held you close and gently, as if these would be the last moments you'd see each other again. As if there wouldn't be a tomorrow.

You slowly pulled away to get a good look at Norman's face. His chin was slightly pointier, his cheeks less chubby and full. His lips twitched upwards into a comforting smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes because he looked so overwhelmingly tired. Your poor boy probably worked day and night to keep the hideout on its feet. It must be hard on him, you thought. Especially since he was revered as a god.

Norman's brows raised. "What's wrong?"

You took his thin hands in your own and gave them a good squeeze. "It's nothing. What about you?"

Ah yes, small talk. The perfect way to avoid any question thrown your way. Norman knew you well, sometimes even more than himself. When you asked simple questions such as these, that meant your mind laid elsewhere in a land he could never reach. Norman took that as a hint to drop the subject.

For now.

He wondered what invisible weight laid on your shoulders. Was it something as heavy as his? Perhaps your weight was worse and it ate away at you. Norman wished he could take that weight away and relieve you of that pain. He'd carry it all if he could, and it didn't matter to him if he'd die trying. This was you he was thinking about. He'd do anything for you.

"I've been okay," Norman vaguely responded. "But I have been busy, so I find it difficult to sleep sometimes.”

Norman liked to be honest, but you knew it was because that helped him figure out what was wrong with you. It was a game of tag. In this case being 'it' meant figuring out each others' worries through a back-and-forth match.

"You haven't been sleeping enough?" Your voice came out rather quiet as you traced invisible circles over the back of his hands. "Is that because you have so much work? Or do you refuse to get help?" Norman sat in a still silence and you sighed.

Of course. 

This was your Norman after all. He always shouldered a burden too big for his shoulders to carry. It was always something so heavy, so terribly hard to balance by himself. If that burden grew any bigger, it would collapse, and that would be his downfall. But you wouldn't let that happen to your Norman. No, no, no. You'd take that burden from him, steal it if you had to, and be his crutch.

"What have you been doing here?" you quickly added. "As 'William Minerva', I mean?"

Norman looked unbearably uncomfortable. That little frown tugging at the edge of his lips was a tell-tale sign. “I’ve been getting a lot done." he carefully said. "In fact, I’ve figured out a way to end this. Once and for all.” 

Norman began by explaining the first phase of his plan. The first phase had long been in motion. It started with the indiscriminate burning of cattle facilities, then the gathering of information, and continued on to pave the way for all the other phases you didn’t care to hear about.

The first few steps weren't too bad, but the final act in Norman's plan made your skin crawl. You half-wished you hadn’t asked him anything to begin with. Maybe it would have spared your appetite. Your grip on his thin hands loosened and loosened until your hands rested on your lap.

Norman wasn't so little anymore. He had grown up just a bit, but not in the way you wished to see. How could he think of something so cold-hearted and cruel? The extermination of all demons in Neverland was an act of genocide. If you re-called correctly, it was also considered a war crime.

Norman was smarter than that. He understood the consequence he'd have to face if that were the path he walked right? He understood that there were still other options right? Maybe you heard him wrong.

No.

You had to have heard him wrong. Norman wasn't ruthless like that. He was a ball of sunshine that made you smile whenever you were together.

"I see..." You tightly smiled. "So that's your plan on freeing everyone?" Norman nodded with a seriousness that took you back to the time he left everything to you and Ray and Emma. 

You weren't mistaken then. Norman truly meant everything he said.

"Yes, that is my plan. It's been taking me a little longer than expected to set it in motion. I've decided to officially start tomorrow."

Tomorrow? 

Your breath hitched. "Don't you think that's a bit hasty? What if...what if something goes wrong?" Norman smiled. It was hollow and wry and everything that he wasn't. "Don't worry. Fortunately, I've always been pretty good at getting what I want." You didn't return the smile, and you didn't want to say why.

Norman was quick to catch on. But of course he would catch on so quickly, this was Norman. Your Norman.

"Do you have a problem with my plan?" he inquired. You shook your head. "No, it's...it's not that." Yes, it was that. Your plan is dangerous even if it is good, you thought. Innocent lives wouldn't be spared, and that would spell an unfair fate for the demons who ate to survive.

You wanted to tell Norman why his plan was wrong, and why he didn't have to be so unforgiving about it. But then what? Why would he listen when you didn't have any better ideas? He seemed to have his mind set anyway, so no half-baked ideas would make a difference. And besides, he was the smartest person you knew. Maybe that was the only way out of the terrible fate all you cattle children faced.

"If you're okay with my plan," Norman said, "then what's bothering you (Y/n)?"

"It's still a lot for me to take in," you admitted with a plastic smile. "I guess I'm just shocked that you're, well, here." Norman smiled, this time with a genuine warmth. "I understand." He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. "I'll see you at dinner."

Your cheeks burned. How bold of him. "Y-yeah, I'll see you at dinner." Norman let out a cute little chuckle that made your heart beat a little louder than it was supposed to. You hauled yourself off the floor and made your way to the door. Norman followed.

You flashed him a nervous smile, one that mixed in with your muddled worry and anxiousness. You glanced at his bright eyes. For a moment, they seemed to dim like the setting sun. It reminded you of Mama. When no one looked at her, she didn’t smile. She always looked so sad when she sat by herself, and maybe that was because she was. 

"(Y/n)?"

Your fingers brushed against the doorknob. “Hm?”

"I want nothing more than to protect you and our family. I know you don't fully agree with me," his expression darkened. "But this is the way--the only way we can save everyone without spilling a single drop of blood."

For a moment, you forgot who you were speaking to. This wasn't the same boy you begged to run away with before he got shipped out. This wasn't the same boy who gently tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and sweetly complimented you. This boy--did you truly still know him? Was he still the Norman you grew up with and fell head-over-heels for?

You blinked and that dark look washed itself off his face. He strode up to you and placed a hand on your cheek--just like the day he was supposed to be harvested. Norman’s eyes were soft, softer than any blanket, and his lips pursed into a gentle frown. With his thumb, he wiped a stray tear away. 

Why were you crying?

"Norman..." You couldn’t find the right words. There were none that could explain the suffering you endured in silence. You worried, not only for Norman, but your family and all those other people in the world you didn’t know about. Norman’s plan--oh how stupid it was--had it changed him? Had it forced him to guard his heart to keep a still mind? 

You wondered what he endured while you went on your crazy adventures. At least you had your family, and Yuugo, Lucas, and all your friends. But Norman? He didn’t have anyone but himself. He carried the whole world. Alone. Had he been scared? Worried? Angry that no one came for him? Your heart clenched at the thought. 

"Smile,” Norman said. “It’s okay, I promise. I'm here." He gathered you in his arms and you didn’t have the heart to protest. “How?” you whispered. “How were you able to do all this on your own?” Norman helplessly shrugged. “You could say I have connections, either that or I’m just lucky.”

“What will you do after this is all over?”

Norman went still again, as if he couldn’t answer your question. You heaved in a shaky breath. If Norman wasn’t going to give you a straight answer, then you’d squeeze it out of him. “Did anything else happen to you? I’m sure there’s a catch, isn’t there?” 

It was like someone flipped a switch. One moment, you were a mess of tears, sorrow, and anguish. Now, something menacing laid in your voice. It was almost threatening, as if you were indirectly telling Norman to dare avoid the question. “I don’t want you dying trying to be everything at once,” you said. “Here you’re revered as a god, and if I know you, then it’s plain that you set yourself up like that. Don’t tell me you plan to die on us again.”

He stiffened.

“I know you Norman, don’t forget that. And because I love you, I don’t want to see you destroy yourself. I admit, I don’t know why you act like you’re going to leave again, but I’ll do everything in my power to stop you.” You pulled away and took his hands in yours. A small smile of reassurance made its way up your lips, but Norman didn’t return it. 

No, he couldn’t. And despite all he did, he couldn’t lie straight to your face. Not like this.

Dinner cheered you up. The smiles and laughter that your family shared with Norman made you feel just a little bit better. But how long would it last? And how long would those smiles stay present? All the questions swarming in your mind made you feel sick to your stomach. There was too much to think about, and too little time to answer them.

You forced down the last of your food with a sigh and brought the plate to its respectful place. Everyone was too busy chatting and catching up to notice, but that was fine. It was better that way. 

You made your way to a secluded walkway. It was in one of the calmer areas of the hideout that overlooked the lower levels. It was quiet, save for the distant chatter of Hayato and his friends. He let out a bright laugh that echoed through the vacant walkways. What a shame it would be to hear that disappear.

“So this is where you went.” 

“I told you she’d be here.”

You whipped around in alarm. “Ray, Emma!” 

Ray sharply looked you up and down. He raised a brow and you squirmed under his gaze. He gently bumped shoulders with you. “What’s wrong with you?” 

You absentmindedly shrugged. “Nothing.” 

“That’s what someone who’s not okay would say.” Emma noted. She settled by your side on the railing and flashed a bright smile. “You were so quiet at dinner today.” 

You shook your head. Que another absentminded shrug and plastic smile. “I guess I just wanted to make sure everyone was okay.” 

Ray sighed. “Everyone but you?” He leaned against the railing next to you. “Did you and Norman talk at all?”

You froze. ‘Yes’, was what you wanted to say, but no sound came out. The image of Norman’s matured face, the way his his soft lips hit your own, and his stupidly tall build crossed your mind. 

Emma let out a gasp and slapped a hand over her mouth. “Ah!” she cried. “You’re all red!” You covered your hands with your face, ignoring Ray’s curious stare.

“What did you two talk about in his office anyway? Or should I say, do?” The glint in Ray’s eyes had subtext you didn’t want to recite out loud. “Rayyyyy,” you grumbled, “shut up.” He sent you a teasing grin as Emma frowned in confusion. “I don’t get it.” 

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Yeah, it’s grown up stuff.”

You ignored the warmth spreading to your cheeks and elbowed Ray. “Don’t say it like ‘that’! Now you make it sound like something else!” 

He daringly raised a brow. “Like what?” You ran a hand over your scorching face. It was a miracle you weren’t on fire. “No, no, I’m not answering you!” 

You shared a good laugh and a comfortable silence began to settle, blanketing your shoulders in a lightness that you hadn’t felt in a while. 

Emma softly smiled. “I’m glad we found you.” she admitted. “You looked really sad all by yourself out here.” Ray nodded with a small snort. “Yeah, talk about depressing. But seriously though, did something..?”

Of course these two would see through your façade. Of course they’d understand something was wrong. They were your family, and they didn’t deserve your silence. Your smile shattered. “I don’t know if Norman told you about his plan yet, but it’s...it’s bad. Sure, the demons have done some terrible things to us, but that doesn’t mean all of them are guilty. I want to stop him, but I don’t know how.” 

Emma nodded in agreement. “He told us earlier and I don’t like it either.” she firmly said. “Ray and I talked it over and we have a plan, but it’s risky. Like, really risky. It has to do with the Seven Walls and...” 

You held on to every word Emma and Ray spoke. Risky was your middle name. Well, not actually, but it was something that became your friend. You and your family looked death in the face too many times to count. What would be another?

By the end of it, you were sure this new plan would change Norman’s mind, or at least convince him to give up the whole ‘genocide’ thing. It was decided by Ray that tomorrow, you’d all talk to Norman. Things seemed to be looking up. No, they had to be.

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

The halls were empty and you were alone. How was it you got lost in the first place? You made sure to have every twist and turn memorised, so why did you end up in the wrong corridor twice? Ray would surely tease you for getting lost. What an absolute--

You slammed into someone’s chest. A yelp escaped your throat as the person in question lost his footing. He sucked in a sharp breath and went tumbling straight into you. Your back hit the ground as the boy threw out his arms on either side of your head to brace himself. You didn’t need a name to know who you had tumbled into. Light hair, soft eyes, fancy waistcoat and suit. 

“Norman?”

He hovered over you with wide eyes. His lips were inches from yours and he was just so, so close. 

Thump, thump, thump.

Your heartbeat was so gosh dang loud. Could he hear it? Could he see the way your face burned red? 

“Uhm--I--I--uh--” 

Why wasn’t he moving? Why weren’t you moving? Why was it so hard to look him in the eyes? A nervous smile broke out across Norman’s lips. He pushed himself off of you and offered out a hand. You gingerly took it.

“Sorry.” Norman said, helping you to your feet. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay?” Your gaze darted from his lips to his dazzling eyes and then to his cheeks dusted in red. Your heart wouldn’t stop slamming against your chest. It kept going, and going until you felt like you were about to burst. 

“Sh-shouldn’t I be asking you that?” you retorted. “I’m not the one who--you know...gets sick all the time.” You weren’t sure why you said it like that, or why that made Norman smile so cutely, but he was smiling. That made your heart flutter. You glanced around the corridor a few times, and somehow, you kept finding focus on his lips. 

What was wrong with you?

Norman caught on fast--like he always did. “Oh I see,” he said with a low chuckle. You swallowed. His voice really did deepen (but you kind of liked it). For a moment, you thought he caught onto your staring, but instead of commenting on it, he intertwined his hand with yours and led you through the winding halls. 

“Don’t tell Ray I got lost.” you muttered. Norman laughed and it was like the sound of happiness itself. “I won’t.” 

The halls all looked the exact same: cream coloured paint, nature-like decorations, and numbered wooden doors. You forgot what number your room was, so that was probably why you got lost. Norman took a sharp left where you recalled should be a right instead. “Wait isn’t it that way?”

“I have something to give you, so we’re going to make a quick detour.” Norman’s cheeks dusted pink and he looked the slightest bit nervous. “What is it you want to show me?” He flashed you a contagious smile. “It’s a surprise.” 

“What kind of surprise?”

“I can’t tell you,” he said with a chuckle, “that’s why it’s called a surprise.”

When you got to his office, you were nervous. Surprises were fun, yes, but in a world where nearly getting eaten by wild demons fell into the category of ‘surprise’, you learned not to like them very much.

Norman closed the door behind you and it softly clicked shut. Okay, you thought. So he was locking the door and making his way over to his desk. Okay, that’s fine. Norman shuffled through a cabinet, that nervous look still on his face. Okay, okay, nothing wrong here. He gently shut the drawer, and as he walked out from behind his desk, you took note of the small little box he fiddled with. 

Okay. Okay. Box. Nervous. Locked door. Did he not want anyone to interrupt whatever he was about to do? 

Norman heaved in a deep breath. A really, really, really deep breath. “(Y/n), I have never met anyone else like you. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and you’re beautiful and kind.” He sunk to one knee and opened the little box. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

---------

You jolted awake with a start. 

“Sorry,” Norman said. He scribbled a few words down in his notebook. “Did I wake you?” 

Ah, that’s right. After you talked with Emma and Ray, you all met up with Norman and hung out for a bit. But when had you gotten to his office? Much less, fallen asleep? You rubbed your eyes with a shake of your head. Judging by the tired look on Norman’s face, it was way past bedtime.

The heavy cloak around your shoulders offered a welcoming warmth. It smelled like books. It smelled like parchment and ink. It smelled like Norman and it was comforting. 

He glanced up from his notebook and curiously met your gaze. “What are you smiling at?” The dream popped up in your mind and your smile grew. “I had a good dream.” 

“What was it about?” he inquired without looking up.

“You.” 

The scratch of the pencil froze and he met your gaze. “You had a dream about me?” Your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, and you proposed.” Norman’s back went rigid and he turned as red as an apple. “I-I pro--proposed to you?” he stammered. You snickered, a smug smile tugging on your lips. “It was really sweet. And if you’re wondering, I said yes. I was going to kiss you, but then I woke up.” You stood up with a sigh. “It was disappointing, but that’s okay.” 

You let out a small laugh and neatly folded Norman’s cloak. You left it on the couch and made your way across the room. “That’s a nice notebook.” you said. “What’re you writing about?”

Norman stilled and closed the book with a smile. “It’s nothing special.” He put the pencil down ever so quietly and stood. “Do you seek my affections?” he inquired. You settled on the wall. “Don’t you have work to do?” Norman looked down at you. His fringe brushed across his eyelashes, and he loosened his tie. Slowly.

Your heart steadily drummed against your chest. “What are you doing?” The false innocence in your voice caused Norman to chuckle lowly. He caressed your cheek with a feather-light touch. “Well, you did say you were disappointed right? Why don’t I make it up to you?” 

He rested an arm on the wall with a sly smirk. Your lips connected and it made your stomach flip-flop. The kiss was slow, it was sweet. You found yourself pulling him closer, running your hands through his hair and yanking him over. "Norman?" He met your gaze with half-lidded eyes. "Yes (N/n)?"

"Where did you learn how to do that?"

He smirked and it was hot. The fact that he kept his arm braced against the wall didn’t help either. "Why?" he lowly inquired. "Do you like it?" Your breath caught in your throat and you found yourself wanting more. 

Knock, knock!

Norman didn't look too happy about that. He ran a hand over your cheek and gently tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, that half-lidded look of his melting into warmth and love. He made his way to the door, tightening his tie and smoothing out his hair with a quick touch.

"Hello--?" Norman fell short mid-sentence. As soon as your gaze locked with the person on the other side, you understood why. Ray stood in the threshold, just as red-faced as you and Norman, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll come back later.” he muttered. 

Oh great. Had he been eavesdropping? You glanced at Norman and he glanced at you, then Ray, and back to you. Ray sucked his teeth and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Don’t have too much fun.” he said, a smirk twitching onto his lips.

You made your way to the threshold with a groan. “Rayyyy!” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” he coolly replied. “Do whatever, I didn’t see anything.”

PART 2 <--- READ PART 2

NOTE: I spent a WHOLE WEEK writing this. Please reblog so I know you guys like it :)

TIP JAR

[knickynoo]

I loved your recent post about Marty and his ADHD! It was soo spot on. And, I saw in the tags that you mentioned Alex Keaton and how you believe he’s not neurotypical either. Care to elaborate? Do you have any headcanons about neurodivergent™ Alex? I’d love to hear your thoughts! :)

Oh, hey, thank you! Marty having ADHD seems to be one of the most common headcanons in the fandom, so that post was a lot of fun to work on.

As far as Alex goes...yes, I will elaborate, BUT I'm putting it under a cut because ya girl is really going to E L A B O R A T E.

I've mentioned before that I think Alex's overall personality/demeanor comes from a variety of different places. Some parts of who he is are likely caused by all the pressure put on him to be a high achiever, due to being so academically gifted from a young age. Other parts are due to being overly coddled and spoiled by Elyse and Steven. Still, there's probably a part of Alex that genuinely enjoys being difficult and getting a rise out of people. Then, there's the obvious anxiety he struggles with, which even MJF has talked about in some interviews when discussing how he approached playing a guy like Alex.

"Giftedness" & anxiety are already included under the umbrella of neurodiversity but in Alex's case, I actually think there's even more to it than that. Yeah, Alex is a funny character whose actions/words are so often played for laughs. He can also be a really irksome character when he's dishing out the sarcasm and being selfish. But I also can't help but look at Alex and think, This guy is just so not NT and he is struggling, somebody Help Him. And since Alex P. Keaton is one of my favorite characters AND I love to analyze/ do deep dives AND the topic of neurodiversity is a particularly strong interest of mine... well, here you go....

Mans is autistic.

• Difficulty with social cues and "reading the room". Seriously, there are so many instances of everyone around him all being on the same page about something or dealing with something serious, and Alex walks in and just proceeds to miss every single cue people throw his way. Two scenes that pop into my head, in particular, are the Reflective Pajamas one and the Clam Puff one, lol.

• He frequently struggles with putting himself in other people's shoes: Alex is certainly shown to be a compassionate person. He can recognize when people are hurting and will do the right thing, but sometimes he needs some help to get there. It seems that a lot of the time, all he knows is how he feels or thinks about something, and it doesn't occur to him that another person could be experiencing it differently. Then, once Steven, Elyse, Ellen, etc, break the situation down for him and explicitly say things like, Hey, that person's feelings are hurt because... or Here is the exact reason this person is angry... Alex is finally able to connect the dots, which usually leads to him being like, I hadn't ever thought about that/ I didn't mean it. (Of course, there are also times where Alex is just purposely being a jerk, but I'm not focusing on those)

• Specific, intense interests: Politics & economics, obviously. It's made well-known that Alex has been completely fixated on these two areas since he was a toddler. He's prone to enthusiastic, overly detailed discourse on the topics and either doesn't care or can't pick up on when people are growing bored at listening to him.

• Also, can we talk about how it's established that Alex's favorite toy as a little kid was a box? Like, he carried it everywhere, played with it, slept with it, and was devastated when it fell apart. Idk, I know kids can be attached to random objects, but it's just interesting that Alex is noted as having been enamored with a box. I'm just picturing little Alex, ignoring all the toys he has in favor of just sitting and staring at a box, and his parents are like, Yeah, this is normal.

• Highly intelligent, bordering on genius/prodigy (He was doing long-division at like, 3 years old) but has difficulty connecting with peers & making friends: This is most prominently shown in "A, My Name is Alex," where we see glimpses of various events in his childhood. In the scene where Alex meets Greg, we learn that Alex spends recess inside, helping the teacher plan her lessons rather than going out to socialize with his classmates. He's bewildered at Greg's invitation to come play, meaning he likely spent the majority of his childhood on his own due to being considered an outcast by his peers and just generally relating more easily to adults. (He also mentions taking night classes at a local college at age SEVEN. So like. If the long-division story and night class thing are taken to be actual facts of Alex's childhood...we're looking at something similar to hyperlexia/hypernumeracy here. This kid must have been bored out his mind having to sit through elementary school if he was that advanced)

• Very literal at times/ misses sarcasm: Interestingly enough, APK is very fond of being sarcastic but doesn't do so well when he's on the receiving end of it. Someone will make a joke or spin the sarcasm towards him for once, and he'll either just stare blankly like ???? or smile/thank them and they're like, Yeah, that wasn't a compliment, or, I was kidding.

• Black and white/ inflexible thinking: This might be the biggest one. Alex is super concerned with rules and ensuring that everyone is following them correctly. There's right and there's wrong, with no gray areas or middle ground as far as he's concerned. My favorite instance of this is in the episode where the family goes to visit Steven's mother and Rob, Alex's uncle, is telling a story of how Steven got in trouble as a kid for refusing to put his name in the upper right corner of his test papers. Everyone around the table laughs...except for Alex, who is deeply troubled by the information.

Just...Steven's delivery. The way he pauses and stares at Alex before replying with a ridiculous punishment that obviously didn't happen, but Alex shows no signs of being aware of or amused at the joke and is just glad his father faced the consequences of his actions. It's great, and a prime example of Alex's preoccupation with "the rules."

Another good example (& one that crosses into the empathy category as well) is "Big Brother is Watching", where Alex exposes a cheating scandal at school (that involves Mallory) and then can't wrap his mind around why everyone is angry at him when he gets the students who were involved suspended. He spends half the episode saying things like, But cheating is wrong. It's wrong and I told the truth about it. I did what's right. You (Steven) told me to always tell the truth, which I did. WHY PEOPLE ANGRY???

And so Steven has to basically spell it out and be like, You got those students suspended, Alex. They are upset with you because of this. They were exposed publically, which embarrassed them, and people tend to not like being embarrassed.

And Alex is like, Oh.

• Repetitive behavior/movements: Most often seen when Alex is distressed or scared, his mannerisms definitely stand out in many scenes. He paces, taps his foot/bounces his leg, rubs his hands together or over his lap, rocks back and forth, and avoids eye contact. I made a post about this a short while back because it really is interesting (and a testament to how well the character was played). There are moments where Alex is completely confident and "calm", and you can see that reflected in the way he carries himself. But whenever he's upset or anxious, you'll start to notice a variety of the things listed above.

So. Yeah. All these things considered...I headcanon Alex as possibly being autistic?? Which is not a take I've ever seen anyone else mention (and I seriously doubt anyone working on the show had this angle in mind at all) but watching through the series, my radar just goes off when it comes to APK.

I have no idea how this will be received. (If anyone even reads it because wow, this got away from me).

Thanks for the ask. As you may be able to tell, I enjoyed being able to spew out my thoughts.

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Let It In

Gif for the celebration, my thought process is maybe instead of Niklaus being in Elijah arms it’s the reader. Maybe she switched her humanity off so Lijahs forcing her to turn it back on. I hope that all makes sense

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: Mentions of character death. 

Author’s Note: Here’s some angst for you. I’m still working on my 1500 gif drabbles. But even then it seems I can’t really keep anything under 1k XD This was submitted by the lovely @xxqueenofgamesxx​

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

“Stop trying to save me!” You yelled out as you turned to face Elijah. “I’m not some broken toy you can just glue together with your words.”

For the last year, Elijah had been trying so desperately to get you to turn your humanity back on. Any time he’d come even a fraction close to getting you to flip the switch back, you’d take off not wanting to deal with it. A trail of bodies left in your wake as you left.

This time he had you cornered, no doubt with the help of his sister. The barrier spell surrounding both of you in this small space was one of her specialties. And at that moment, you hated Freya even more than you had since you flipped your switch.

“I have never thought of you as some toy, Y/N.” Elijah said keeping his voice calm as he took a step towards you. “You are my wife and I made a vow to not only love you but help you and keep you safe. That includes getting you your humanity back.”

A dark chuckle passed your lips as you shook your head. “I have been safe. No danger has come to me in years. If I remember correctly, I asked you to join me on this side of things, but you turned me down.”

You hadn’t missed the fact that he had been closing you in even more. You hated that he was and that you couldn’t get away from him. Elijah knew why you had asked him to switch off his humanity. He was the only one that could get you to flip it back. Especially since he was the only one who shared the pain you shut out.

“You had your reasons for shutting it off, Y/N.” He said shaking his head. “It was a hard time for both of us. But you were the one that was hurt by it the most and I didn’t do anything to help you or to stop you from making that decision and I regret it.”

You huffed. “I’d say since then, I’ve been doing just fine. Better even.” You said as a smirk pulled at your lips.

“We both know that isn’t true.” He said as he took one final step towards you, having you stuck in the corner of the room with the wall against your back. The space between you minimal as you looked up at him. “Once you let your humanity back in, Arick’s death would consume you-”

“Shut up, Elijah.” You said cutting him off as you narrowed your eyes at him. “Neither of us has spoken his name since that night and I’d prefer it that way. Might as well let that memory go with all the hurt, right?”

At your words, it was Elijah’s turn to narrow his eyes at you. “Arick was our son, Y/N. You cannot just erase him. Yes, his death was tragic and I have done everything in my power to ensure those that killed him were killed by my own hands. But you will not be the one to make it seem like he does not exist.”

Elijah had tried to keep his voice calm as he spoke to you. But he couldn’t stop the anger that came out of his words towards the end. You hadn’t missed it either. And that part of you that was hanging on to that off switch couldn’t help itself.

You kept yourself calm as you leaned up and brought your lips right next to his year. A devilish smirk pulled at your lips. “It’s your fault he’s dead in the first place. If only you cared less for your brother, our son would still be alive.”

The moment Elijah pushed you back, you couldn’t help but chuckle. You saw the hurt in his eyes and it didn’t bother you one bit. His eyes searched yours the moment the chuckle subsided. All he could see within them was emptiness. The flicker of hurt he saw moments before at the mention of your son was gone. But that didn’t stop him from trying again.

“What would he say if he saw you as you are now?” He asked.

Between the three of you, you always assured each other that facing the pain was a lot better than flipping the humanity switch. Especially for immortals such as yourselves. Unfortunately, Arick wasn’t an original vampire.

While born before both of you had transitioned, it wasn’t until Arick was older that you turned him. His first several years of life had been hard for both you and Elijah when it came to your bloodlust with turning. But you somehow managed to control yourselves a lot better than his siblings had.

Arick hoped that he nor his parents would become bloodthirsty as his aunts and uncles. It was a promise that the three of you had made after you turned him. And if Arick had seen you now, he’d be disappointed.

You rolled your eyes as you pushed him back, attempting to get some room between the two of you before walking around him. His arms came around you and his hold tightened as you tried to fight him off. The strength between the two of you making it difficult for either of you to win against the other.

“You loved him, Y/N.” Elijah said as you struggled against his hold trying to block out what he had been saying. “Yes, it was my fault you two were in that position in the first place. You shouldn’t have watched our son die.”

A memory that you had longed to forget had made its way into your mind. The way you had watched as your son struggled to get himself free from his captors. But the vervain that had been running through his system had made him weak, just as the very thing had done to you. But watching as the enemy had staked him right in front of you, had broken you in ways that you hadn’t believed you could ever be.

“Let go of me, Elijah.” You said through clenched teeth as you fought against him.

His hold had tightened, and part of him believed because it had been because you were breaking. “I will not let go.” He said as keeping his own emotions in check. Bringing up his son’s death wasn’t the easiest thing. And while he would be willing to express those feelings, this was all about you. “I will never let go.” He promised.

You shook your head trying to get the thoughts in your head out. But no matter how much you fought, Elijah’s hold on you tightened. And at some point, he moved his hand on top of your arm, just enough to allow a connection between minds.

Memories flood your mind. The memories of Elijah seeing you with their son. The way you cared for and protected him. Everything up until he turned he brought it to you. And the last thing he showed you was how broken you looked when he found you holding your son’s body. There was hurt and hatred in your eyes as you looked up at him. Through the memories, the pain being relived though it.

A cry of pain left your lips the moment Elijah stopped. You had stopped fighting against him and you slumped against him. He never once removed his arms from around you, wanting to comfort you as you let in every emotion that you refused to acknowledge.

“I’ve got you.” He promised as he held you, wanting you to know he wasn’t going to leave your side any time soon. This was the first step in getting you back and he was going to make sure that you wouldn’t find yourself wanting to go back to the numbness you had sought out.

Always & Forever Tag: @taylordrunkonwhiskey​ @thewolf-and-thesheep​ @wayward-dan​ @neeadinghugs​ @fafulous​ @kenmen02​ @elizamonet​ @dora-the-grownup​ @mschellehitt​ @xanderling​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @buckysarm4​ @hi-my-name-is-riley​ @helenasingers​ @alka16555​ @hellotvshowtrash​

Stag Tag:   @elejah-wonderland​ @xxsovereignsarayaxx​ @asiaaisa77​ @astudyoftimeywimeystuff​ @marvel-at-stucky​

The Originals Tag: @zillahvathek​ @obsessedwithvampires​ @alien-sida @mikaelson-emma​

[iatethepomegranate]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences (for now)

Relationship: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast

Summary: After Aeor, Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha. For the first time in more than seventeen years, he has some semblance of stability. Caleb is not sure he's ready to handle it, but he's trying, and his friends are eager to see him live a good life, by force if necessary.

And then Soltryce Academy approaches him with a job offer, which could give Caleb the chance to protect the next generation of wizards the way he had needed at their age. Caleb's goal of preventing what happened to him from happening to anyone else, however, takes a far more personal turn than even he could have anticipated.

(In other words, here is a fic about Caleb settling down and learning how to be a person again. Also Professor Widogast will be a thing. Fic title is a lyric from I Have Made Mistakes by the Oh Hellos. Chapter title is a lyric from Mind by Sleeping At Last. More detailed tagging and notes are available on AO3.)

_____

Chapter 1: It's the first brush stroke of a self-portrait

Caleb had mixed feelings returning to Rexxentrum after spending so long in Aeor… and everywhere else he had been, including a fucking flesh city in the Astral Sea. Sure, he had popped back to Rexxentrum regularly to update the Cobalt Soul on his discoveries, and to testify at Trent’s trial, during the conclusion of which he had the satisfaction of turning down Da’leth’s offer to assume Trent’s position as the Archmage of Civil Influence. But now he was back on a more permanent basis.

He didn’t know what to do with that information. With this place, that was both so familiar and so foreign. Full of some of his best memories, and some of his worst.

Caleb had spent so long avoiding this place, or at least the challenging parts of it, and now Beauregard was dragging him and Yasha down the street, infodumping about a house she wanted the three of them to buy together.

“Caleb, don’t give me that look,” she said. “You’re gonna love this place. I know you like your space, dude, and this is the best of both worlds. It’s technically two houses, but there’s, like, a door between them so we can visit each other. Because you’re a fucking genius but you also forget to feed yourself.”

Yasha smiled at Caleb over Beau’s head. “She’s not wrong, Caleb.” Her soft tone made Caleb a little emotional, but he categorically refused to start crying in the street. “I like my space, too. This is a good balance. And there’s room for a garden.”

“Yasha’s not an Empire citizen,” said Beau. “It looks better if there’s two of us Empire kids on the deed so no one thinks any weird shit about her.”

Caleb sighed at her. “I will look at the house, Beauregard.”

Beau yanked them around the street corner. “It’s a great location. You can walk anywhere. I can get to the Archive, and you can get to the Academy.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Maybe. Astrid says hi.”

The implication that Astrid and Beauregard had been speaking to each other recently was of concern. Caleb was too tired to unpack it. He would find out what that was about eventually. It was not worth Beauregard’s sibling-level mockery if he tried to extract the information early.

“Oh, and Veth sent you this,” said Yasha, passing a wrapped package over Beau’s head.

“Yeah, I might’ve told her we’re buying a house together,” said Beau. “She made Yussa send that to the Soul so I could grab it for you.”

Caleb didn’t open the package, but he did shake and squeeze it a little. It felt like coins. A lot of coins. Oh, Veth. Still taking care of him from miles upon miles away. They’d both come so far from Veth sneaking coins into his pockets because he had felt strange about taking her money even when he desperately needed it.

“Danke,” he said softly. That was all he could say, before he risked bursting into tears again. That was happening to him a lot lately. It… wasn’t the worst thing. More of an inconvenience. He chose not to unpack it.

Beauregard was looking at him strangely. He elbowed her. It probably hurt his elbow more than it hurt her, but she was successfully distracted from his bullshit. She punched his arm. Even holding back like she did, his arm did go numb for a few seconds.

Yasha sighed. “Children, we’re almost there.”

Caleb had been down this street before. Rarely, as it was entirely residential. But sometimes he, Astrid and Eadwulf would explore the city to find excuses to get away from the Academy, especially after they had commenced their training with Trent. But, with Caleb’s memory, he could call upon the map he had drawn in his mind. This was a middle-income area on the southern edge of The Tangles, home to mostly professionals--well-off storeowners, any researchers who did not live in the Shimmer Ward or have access to quarters with the Cobalt Soul, some teachers, architects. Largely people looking to settle down with the money to stay out of the Mudtop Ward.

It was close to the Shimmer Ward, a little southwest from the gate, but not so close that Caleb felt an itch on the back of his neck. The Tangles were the oldest part of the city, with narrow looping streets with little logic to them. This area was slightly newer than most of The Tangles, but still old. Regardless, The Tangles were fairly central to the city and an easy starting point for any travel. If you didn’t get lost on the way out.

This far south in the area, the houses were a little more spaced out. A little more green space, more gardens. Duplex-style houses were common, mostly built of old stone or lumpy brick on the first floor and clay bolstered by wooden frames above that. Children were out in force, running and screaming through the narrow streets while their parents watched from the porch of their homes. Well, for those who had porches.

“There she is,” said Beauregard. They had stopped in front of another duplex-style building, newer than some of the others but still respectable in age. The first floor was made from dark reddish brick and the upper two floors panelled with dark wood to bolster the white clay walls. The first two floors were full in width, and the third consisted of two dormers peeking through the darkly thatched roof.

There were two entrance doors on the ground floor, each spaced a third of the house’s width from the outer corners. The rectangular windows were framed in white-painted wood, dividing the glass on each window into six little squares.

Before the three of them was a low wooden fence, also painted white. The paint was chipping a little, revealing the deep brown heartwood that Caleb suspected was oak. There were a number of oak trees in the Pearlbow Wilderness. Caleb had slept under them several times in worse days. Oak was rather expensive, if he remembered correctly. He usually remembered correctly.

“She’s pretty hot, right, Caleb?” Beau said, snapping out of his hyperfocus on the history of timber in the Zemni Fields.

“Oh… ja.”

“Cool, so the owner will be here in a few minutes to let us in so we can have a look. She wants to sell the place as a package deal.”

Caleb had, in some ways, trained himself out of being too attached to places or most material things (with a few exceptions such as his spell components, spellbook, and the letters he had written to his parents). Unless there was something horrifically wrong inside, he didn’t care where Beauregard and Yasha wanted to live. It was practical that they live together, after all. Caleb had healed immensely this past year, but he was self-aware enough to understand he probably shouldn’t live alone. Of the Nein, Beauregard knew how to call him on his bullshit and Yasha understood him pretty well and knew he needed space sometimes, so it was a reasonable arrangement.

“I am really not picky, Beauregard.”

“Yeah, because you still don’t care enough about yourself to give a fuck about this. We know.” Beauregard looped her arm around his neck, dragging him down to her level so she could rub her knuckles across his scalp, ruining the two narrow braids Essek had worked from Caleb’s hairline to his messy ponytail that morning before they had parted ways beside the secret entrance to Aeor. Caleb talked himself out of getting upset with Beauregard over it. She couldn’t have known, and she was being affectionate like he really was her brother.

Once he was free, Yasha fixed the braids, and Caleb had to stop himself from crying again because she had noticed it bothered him and just… fixed it without making it a thing. Beau straightened her expositor’s garb, clearing her throat.

“Sorry, dude.”

Caleb conjured a mage hand to tug on her ponytail. Beau swatted at it, but her hand went right through it. She gave him the finger. Yasha finished fixing the braids. Everything was normal again.

The owner, a half-elf woman with long blonde hair coiled into a bun that looked like a cinnamon scroll, arrived and immediately shook Caleb’s hand.

“Mr Widogast, a pleasure. These ladies have told me a lot about you. My name is Alphira Winterheart. I teach evocation at the Soltryce Academy.”

Caleb still felt a spike of anxiety when he heard the name of that place. At this point it was ingrained, even if he held out a small amount of hope he would get to teach there one day. It would be easier to fight corruption if he had some say over what the Academy put into those children’s heads.

“A pleasure,” Caleb replied, a little flatter than he had intended. He mentally shook himself, remembering to actually grip her hand for a proper handshake. “Evocation? I used to specialise in that area.”

“Ja, Ms Lionett told me you are now a Transmutation specialist but still frequently partake in the Evocation school in your travels. I’m glad to hear you intend to put down roots here in Rexxentrum. I would love to exchange theories over coffee.”

Beauregard smirked. Caleb remembered a conversation with Essek where they had agreed to return to Aeor and exchange theories. They had meant that literally. But it had indeed sounded like a euphemism to someone like Beauregard. Well, she hadn’t been wrong in the end, but certainly the intent at the time had been more about a meeting of minds than a meeting of…

Caleb concentrated on the conversation in front of him instead.

“Ja, I would enjoy that,” he replied. “What level of Evocation do you teach?”

“Oh, I teach the beginners.”

“And you live here in the Tangles?”

“I did,” said Alphira. “Archmage Beck has offered me lodging on her estate, so I am selling this house. It was always a little large for one person, and it seems you three could make better use of it than I did.” She leaned closer to Caleb, as if to tell him a secret. “The place on the left is where I prefer to experiment and study. I would recommend you look at that one in particular. The dormer is slightly larger. You could even put a teleportation circle up there if you were so inclined, given your need to travel.”

“Danke.” Caleb still felt a little weird about Rexxentrum mages not wanting to kill him, but he didn’t sense any untoward motives from this woman. She seemed genuinely friendly. “How… is the new Archmage settling in?”

“I have no complaints. She seems competent, if a little terrifying. I am uncertain if that is her past as a Volstrucker, or a necessity of the job. She has been nothing but kind to me, and I would certainly prefer to be her friend than her enemy.”

“Ja, we are familiar with her,” said Caleb.

“Caleb most of all,” said Yasha.

Beauregard had to turn away before she burst out laughing.

“We should look at the house,” Caleb said before the conversation could go anywhere strange. Gods, he missed Aeor already.

Alphira unlocked both front doors. They checked the one on the right first.

“This one has a larger living area,” said Alphira, leading them through the entrance. “I am offering the furniture as part of the sale. I have already taken everything I need.”

Beauregard threw herself onto the large couch in the centre of the room. “Yasha and I call dibs on this side of the house. Since you’re gonna spend so much time here with us anyway. We’re taking the larger living area.”

“Beauregard, we have already established that I do not mind.”

The floor underfoot was a pleasant hardwood, probably more oak, and a large rug occupied much of the space. They would have to purchase candles for the evening, but it was well-lit during the day. Caleb followed the women through each of the rooms on the ground floor on this side, largely going through the motions. The kitchen was equally large, and had a good oven for Yasha to practice baking. They would need to purchase a larger dining table.

There was one large bedroom upstairs and two smaller ones, alongside private areas for bathing and other such activities. This was where they found the door between the two houses. The top floor dormer was full of assorted furniture and household items Alphira didn’t need, but they would likely use. Beauregard and Yasha discussed the possibility of turning this into another bedroom for when they had friends over. Or perhaps converting one of the lower bedrooms into a workout space and using this as a replacement. Caleb did not need to contribute much to the conversation, aside from promising he would help move furniture with telekinesis.

Truth be told, Caleb was having a hard time concentrating on the whole thing. He hadn’t really had a home in a long time, and he could not wrangle his mind into understanding the change. The Xhorhaus had been easier to stomach, as nobody had expected to live there forever. But this? Putting down roots? Real , long-term roots?

Maybe Caleb had been homeless for too long. It was beyond his comprehension at this point. And maybe it frightened him a little. He could not afford to inspect those feelings, not right now.

He pulled himself together in time to inspect the other side of the building. His side. His house. Scheisse .

The living area was a little smaller, but could still easily welcome the Nein (just in rather cosy quarters). The kitchen, also smaller but still respectable--a little larger than his childhood home in Blumenthal. There was less furniture on this side; Alphira had evidently used this side more and therefore had more furniture to take. There were two bedrooms on the second floor, one slightly larger than the other. Caleb found himself thinking that he would probably take the larger one just so there was enough room when Essek was over, or maybe he would take the smaller one so Veth could bring her family with her. Fuck. He didn’t know what to do.

And then they visited the dormer. It was indeed larger than the other one. There was a table in front of the window, with a few dark ink stains, and plenty of floorspace to spread out notes or create a teleportation circle. A few chairs were stacked in the corner, seemingly in good condition, and one wall was lined with empty shelves.

Caleb had always been partial to a tower, and this was pretty close. It would make a great study.

He was genuinely excited over a house. In Rexxentrum. A short journey from where his childhood home once stood. He was going to hyperventilate if he thought about this too hard.

“There are already plenty of shelves in my new house,” Alphira said. “These are all yours.”

Caleb nodded slowly, pulling his mind back into his skull. “Wundervoll, danke.” He took a calming breath. “This is a nice place, Professor.”

Alphira smiled. “Yes, I did not make nearly enough use out of it. But I hear you three have a lot of friends from out of town.”

“Ja, we do not see them enough.”

“Perhaps you will see them more once you have a place to welcome them.” Alphira led them back downstairs, and into the other side of the house where they could sit around the small dining table. Alphira already had the paperwork they needed to sign; Caleb got the impression Beau and Yasha had already decided to buy the house before they spoke to him about it. He was glad the decision was out of his hands.

He signed the paperwork, using both his legal name and the name he now wore (Alphira had apparently been briefed on this, and had consulted a contract lawyer on how to make it work on a binding document). Caleb had needed to sign various statements as part of Trent’s trial, so signing in Bren’s name was not as strange as he feared it would be. He was relieved. Beau and Yasha had insisted on finding a way that his new name would also be included, given he had not gone through any legal name-change process. The money Veth gave him more than covered his part of the cost. He needed to hug her. He needed to hug all of them.

Alphira gave them three copies of the contract and handed over the deed to the property. “I will head to the housing authority and file the paperwork immediately.” She slid the keys over the table to them. “Congratulations on your new home.”

She left. Caleb traced the shapes of the letters on his copy of the contract, over and over, letting reality sink in. He had a house. A house in Rexxentrum. A house in Rexxentrum with two of his best friends. It wasn’t at all what he imagined he would have when he was seventeen, when he thought he and Astrid and Wulf would one day have done their duty for the empire and settled down together.

But this was good. This was right .

He cried. Yasha was probably crying, too, but he couldn't see. The three of them hugged across the table, the edges jabbing their ribs.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Injured Brat- Malcolm Bright X Reader

Fandom: Prodigal Son

Pairing: Malcolm Bright X Reader

Summary: you get into an a small argument with Malcolm after the incident with the Junkyard Killer

Warnings: spoilers ig? Not a lot, cursing, mentions of injuries, fluff, some whump because I know y'all love whump

WC: 2k

Tag list

A/N: yes omg fucking finally!!! I wrote a Malcolm one shot. This is my first Malcolm related work so this is kinda shit probably. I’m not exactly sure if I even portrayed Mal correctly. But I tried and I had fun writing it. So, hopefully you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Ps, I didn’t have anyone other than me proof edit so if there are any mistakes or spelling errors, my apologies

Not my gif @malcolmbright

When Gil’s name popped up on your screen in the middle of the night, you knew something was up. You knew Malcolm had gotten himself into trouble, that would be the only logical explanation as to why Gil had to personally call you instead of Malcolm himself.

“Is he dying? Or do I get to kill him myself?” Was your immediate response to Gil telling you Malcolm was injured. After making sure he wasn’t in any danger of course.

“He’s got a few broken bones and some bruising, a severely damaged ego, but he’ll make it.” Gil responded with a small chuckle.

You sighed, nodding to yourself in relief. You were obviously glad Malcolm was okay, but god did you want to strangle him at that moment. “Alright, I’ll be there in a few. Don’t yell at him too much. That’s my job.” You said as you maneuvered around to slip on a pair of sweatpants and shoes while holding your phone to your ear.

“Sure thing kid, see ya in a few.”

Once Gil had hung up, you properly slipped up the fabric up your legs and quickly tied your shoes. You had already been wearing Malcolm’s Harvard sweater so you didn’t have to worry about that. You looked like a train wreck to say the least. But you had been home all day and had no plans of leaving Malcolm’s loft. Guess that wasn’t gonna happen now was it.

As you somehow attempted to fix your hair you grabbed your purse and keys, and you were on your way to yell at your boyfriend for the next three hours.

~~~~~~~~

You were quick to arrive at the precinct. Passing any and all speed limits in the process. When you arrived at the precinct, you were instantly met with Gil’s voice echoing through the halls, even with the door closed. You exhaled deeply as you passed Dani and JT, who were sitting at their desks doing some paperwork. They sent knowing smiles your way as you twisted the doorknob to open the door.

Gil was in the middle of scolding Malcolm, accompanied by shouts when you walked in his office. Both males turned your way when you made your presence known. Malcolm instantly looked down, much like a child that had been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to.

You eyed him for a minute. His shirt was unbuttoned revealing his most definitely bruised body and the gauze that was wrapped around his torso. His arm was wrapped around it as well as he was clearly in a lot of pain. You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“You’re so lucky Gil called me and not your mother.” You said to Malcolm as you stepped in front of him, eyes narrowed into a frown and your arms rested on your hips. Much like a mother who was scolding her naughty child.

Malcolm chuckled, “Well, you’re going to yell as me as much as she would so, I don’t see the improvement.” He said with a sigh, rolling his eyes a bit.

You gave him an ‘oh really’ look as you narrowed your eyes even further, “well I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t such an irresponsible dumbass.” You whisperer yelled, not wanting to make a scene.

Once again, Malcolm rolled your eyes at your words, knowing you were mostly right, but of course, he wasn’t going to say that, nor admit it. He was going to argue, “Y/N,”

“No,” you quickly cut him off before he could even start, “what the hell were you thinking? Going after a killer like that! He could’ve killed you! Hell, he almost did!” Now you were yelling. In any other situation, you would never yell at Malcolm, but knowing he was purposely putting himself in that kind of danger, that really pushed at your buttons. You knew you would feel bad about it later. You’d make sure to apologize to him later. But now was the time to yell.

Malcolm shook his head, wincing a bit, the slightest movement causing all sorts of pain. “He wasn’t going to kill me. He knows I’m my father’s son. He doesn’t want to kill me, not yet anyway.”

You couldn’t believe how lightly Malcolm was taking this whole situation. You were beyond frustrated to say the least. You were honestly trying so hard not to snap out on him right then and there “Malcolm, you can’t just run off after a killer on your own. You are not a cop, you are unarmed and you’re a civilian. You need to wait for backup.” You emphasized your words as much as you could, even using your hands as you spoke.

“See? She agrees with me.” Gil spoke in, cutting right through the tense air that filled the room.

Malcolm couldn’t look any more guilty. He looked like a kicked puppy, his blue eyes were big and dead staring at you. Almost as if those puppy dog eyes would soothe your altered state. “Darling I-”

“Malcolm, we’re not having this conversation right now,” you cut him off again, rubbing a hand over your face slightly as you turned your attention to the older man who was witnessing your domestic dispute. “Can I take him home?”

“Please, take him, and keep him home. I don’t want to see him here for a few days.” Gil said, eyeing Malcolm sternly. Who, like the injured puppy that he was, simply nodded with a sigh.

After thanking Gil one more time for calling you, you were both on your way. You were still very upset and frustrated with Malcolm, as it was extremely obvious due to the way you refused to exchange a single word with him. He didn’t push it though, he simply followed after you like a lost puppy, his head hanging a bit low as he walked.

The ride back to his loft wasn’t much different. It mainly consisted of Malcolm, sitting on the passenger’s side looking at you with his big blue puppy dog eyes, hoping you’d talk to him. But you didn’t. You’d figured it’d be best to just drive in silence. You didn’t want to say anything that would hurt him while being upset.

Once you arrived at Malcolm’s loft, he instantly freed himself from all the clothing on his upper body, leaving him with the gauze around his bruised and shirtless torso. He eased himself down onto one of the chairs by the kitchen island, a moan of discomfort leaving his lips as he did so.

A deep heavy sigh left your lips as you freed yourself from your shoes and sweatpants, because, fuck wearing pants at home. Your bare feet made the wooden floor creak as you stepped into the kitchen. You grabbed a bag of peas from the freezer and walked around the island to give Malcolm the bag. You placed it not so subtly against his ribs, a groan leaving his lips as a result of it. “Thank you,” he smiled through the pain as he held the cold bag tightly against his bruised ribs, hoping to ease a smile into you and sighed when you only half nodded in response.

Deep down, you truly felt bad about the way you were reacting to this whole situation. You should maybe be more understanding, more supportive. But the fact that he continuously put himself in harm’s way without caring about anything else truly frustrated you. And despite what you might have to say about it, he continued to put himself in danger with extreme carelessness. Maybe you shouldn’t be so harsh with him, but the fact that you were so upset wasn’t exactly helping.

You walked around the island once again and reached for the cabinets where Malcolm kept his pills. You grabbed all the bottles you figured he might need and filled a glass with water. You placed all items on the island in front of him and stepped around it to walk away, but his voice stopped you in your tracks. “So are you just going to give me the silent treatment forever?”

“Are you going to continue to put yourself in danger?” You asked rhetorically, a sarcastic smile claiming ownership of your lips as you stood beside Malcolm with a hand over your hip. He let out a heavy sigh and rubbed the back of his neck slightly, not really having a response. “There’s your answer then.” You turned on your heel to walk away, but stopped when Malcolm lightly grabbed your arm.

“Darling,” he said softly, gently pulling you close enough to where he could hold you without straining his already sore muscles. You stood there, allowing him to rest his hands on your waist, but the annoyed look on your face remained. “I can handle broken ribs, I can handle being sore. I can even handle a broken ego. But I can’t handle you being angry with me,” he said, his big blue eyes staring at you with a gentle gaze, eyes begging you silently. “So please, don’t be angry with me.”

The eyes. The fucking eyes. You couldn’t stay mad at those puppy dog eyes. You groaned with annoyance, stomping your foot slightly as you were starting to fall back under his charming spell. “Mal,” you finally cracked. The moment you used the nickname, all the anger and annoyance you were feeling began to fade. The moment that nickname slipped through, Malcolm knew he had won this battle. “I’m sorry. I just worry so much. I can’t stop worrying about you. And when your dumbass gets hurt, I panic. I just don’t know how to handle it.” You finally said, your eyes getting a bit glossy. You weren’t crying, but your eyes were a bit watery from the accumulated frustration and worry.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” He carefully ran a hand over your face, his smooth fingers gracing over your skin gently. “But that’s okay. Because that just shows you love me.” He smiled stupidly at you, dimples showing. His smiles were always so contagious you had to smile too.

“Of course I love you. ‘Cause unfortunately for me I’m in love with your dumb ass.” You playfully rolled your eyes, but you just couldn’t hide the smile on your lips.

“And I’m forever thankful for it.” He chuckled, leaning in for a kiss, “can I get a kiss?”

You nodded, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his rosy pink lips, both of you smiling into the kiss, “you’re still not off the hook though. If you ever pull something like this, I will hurt you.” You shot him a playful glare his way when you pulled away.

Malcolm had a knowing smile on his lips as he leaned back on his chair, his hands returning to hold the forgotten bag of beans to his torso, “did I ever mention how incredibly beautiful you look with my sweater?” He was obviously trying to be extremely charming and seductive, that was kinda his natural thing.

You let out a breathy chuckle as you looked down at said sweater, tugging on the ends of it with a bit of shyness, “charming. Real charming.” You pecked his lips another time before you stepped around the island to the fridge, “go laid down. I’ll bring you something to eat.” You nudged at him as you pulled out Malcolm’s favorite kind of cheese and grabbed the bag of bread from the counter.

“You’re the best.” He smiled brightly at you, knowing just exactly what you were going to make him and carefully hopped off the chair.

“I know.” You blew him a kiss and smiled before you turned your attention to the only meal your boyfriend could handle eating.

He was limping his way over to your shared bed, but he stopped mid way and turned around to look at you. “Hey darling,” he called out. You turned in his direction and nodded at him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too Mal.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Malcolm Bright Tag list: @fueled-by-fanfic​ @missscorp​ @coollllllduse​ @while-the-world-sleeps​ @twistnet​ @thatesqcrush​ @im-a-mess-that-works​ @chengukargbo​

[lowkeyaesthvtic]

Evil Karma - Chapter 14

Chapter 1 - Chapter 13

Word Count: 4,007

Summary: Now that the group has everything they need for the magic elixir, how will they react to giving the Isle of the Lost a little taste of magic?

Pairings: Harry x OC, Uma x OC, Harry x Uma x OC, platonic!Gil x OC, a little bit of platonic!Gil x Harry, past!OC x OC in a flashback scene

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild profanity, descriptive threats of murder, a flashback scene that kind of shines a light on how much of a dick Sofi’s dad was and how much she deserved better, also a little bit of sexual tension at the beginning but honestly not much

Tags: I honestly feel like people have stopped paying attention to this fic so I’m gonna stop with the tags for now but I’ll start them again if enough people ask.

Author’s Note: I am really sorry about the long pause, it’s been kind of hard writing for this fandom when the content for it has started to dwindle. I’m going to try my best to keep the Descendants fandom alive since I really love it but considering it’s been almost a year since the last movie came out, it’s going to be hard.

“How do we know the Doctor’s not going to flake out on us? He’s done it before.” Harry asked as he shifted into the sofa. The four of us, now permanently deciding to include Gil on our plan, had gone back to the room where the plan first became set in stone. I had sent out a sort of distress call to the Doctor himself telling him that the hairs were ready to be mixed into the elixir, which was incredibly hard without any magic, but somewhat possible nonetheless. I looked over to Harry and leaned my head on his shoulder as a small, bored yawn escaped my lips. 

“He won’t flake on me. Dr Facilier has worked with my family before. He’s well aware of how powerful my father was; and, if I am anything like my father, he’ll know I’m not a force to mess with either. Unfortunately, my father and I have more in common than I’d like to admit.” I ran a thin finger through his black, matted locks as the four of us sat and waited not so patiently for the doctor to arrive. Noticing my physical affection towards Harry, Uma moved closer next to me and leaned in to whisper to me.

“You know, you’ve been latching onto Harry a lot today, you two didn’t play without me, did you?” Due to our vicinity, both Harry and I heard her words. A small shiver ran up my spine as her voice sent warm air across my skin. 

“Of course not, Captain. If a game is what you want, though, I’m sure the two of us would be happy to oblige.” Harry smirked, interjecting the tension between Uma and I. The two looked as if their lips were about to lock when they were both blocked by a lock of blonde hair. 

“Not to interrupt, guys, but I hear footsteps.” He was definitely interrupting. But, it was for good reason. Harry, Uma and I moved slightly farther apart as Harry quickly grabbed his hook and I readied my hand on my dagger, prepared in case it was some unwanted visitor walking through the door. 

“Will you put your hook down, pirate boy? It’s just me. Sorry if I’m late, but I had a bit of a run in with one of Cruella’s goons.” My eyes quickly widened as I stood and ran towards him like a wild, hungry tiger.

“What the fuck, Doc! What did you tell them? You didn’t see Cruella, did you?” Before I could get close enough for the Doctor to feel the steam from my ears, Uma and Harry interjected the space between. Harry put an arm out to block Facilier from defending himself as Uma moved closer to me in an attempt to calm my anger.

“Relax, babygirl,” Uma calmly spoke, using the pet name that seemed to work on me like a magic spell every time. Yet it only worked when it slipped from her lips. “Cruella’s been indisposed since she saw Maleficent get turned into a lizard at Ben’s coronation. Jafar’s been hiding from the embarrassment of his son becoming a good kid and the Evil Queen...Well I don’t know what’s happened with her. Rumor has it she changed her name to Regina and drank a potion transporting her to some different dimension where Auradon doesn’t even exist. Wherever she is, she’s not here. None of them care about themselves anymore to worry about some little trinkets getting stolen.” With a deep inhale, I took a step back and watched as Uma turned toward the Doctor. She somehow seemed so confident, so professional, no matter the circumstances. I very rarely let somebody else dominate me both in and out of sensual situations. But with Uma, it was like disobeying her meant taking away every ounce of oxygen in my body. I needed her like a fish needs water. “I’m sure they were taken care of? Tell me, Doc, how’d you do it? Choke them until their faces turned blue? Slashed them across their necks and watched as their blood spewed like a fountain? Then again, I guess that would’ve messed up your clothes.”

“I left them unharmed.” Facilier replied after a slight hesitation. This must have been his first time meeting Uma. Otherwise he would’ve been prepared for her high-handed attitude and body language. “Getting my hands dirty would have perked some ears around the Isle. I assume you want this plan to remain secret until the time is right?” Uma nodded her head and turned around, leading the two of us back to the sofa we sat on before. She fixed her eyes on the black, still cauldron in front of us. 

“You’d assume correctly. Now, do you have the ingredients or not?” Facilier stood still, looking through his large, black satchel for what we were hoping were the ingredients. Uma, however, was not going to accept silence as an answer. “Now, Doctor. We mustn't lurk in doorways...it’s rude.” She chuckled as she watched Facilier hesitantly walk into the room and towards the cauldron. Then, like a child tentatively unwrapping a present, he started to take the ingredients out of his satchel and placed them on a nearby rickety desk. 

“I know you said enough for two gulps. But, I figured it’d be best to take everything instead of leaving some behind and risk getting caught. Should be enough for five elixirs. One for each of you kids...and an extra in case things go sideways.” It was laid out like a buffet. Eight dog bones, a large bowl of dust from Jafar’s stolen lamp,  and five apples with exactly one bite taken out of each. “How many hairs did you get?”

“Ten. The recipe called for five but...I may have gotten carried away. There’s something succulent about hearing his pain, especially since he deserves every single bit of it.” I stated, keeping my voice and face as blank as possible. Despite the Doctor knowing what Ben had done to the boys on Neverland, I refused to let him see me emotional or otherwise affected by it. 

“Showing any kind of emotion, especially towards men, is weakness. The second a boy or man sees a tear fall down that wretched face of yours, they’ll know what I’ve known since the day you were born. You could never be a leader.” I heard my own father’s voice echo in my head. I couldn’t help but feel my surroundings grow fuzzy and mute as I only heard his voice. “If you can’t stand up to a measly wolf cub, how could you ever lead these boys in the case of battle?” His one remark to me when I came to him with bite marks and gruesome scratches. He’d sent me into the jungle to hunt for dinner. While walking back to camp with some fox meat, a couple of baby wolves had attacked me and stolen the meat. I came to my father looking for comfort, or at least some kind of potion that would heal the wounds. The only thing I was given was ridicule and mockery. In a way, he was right. The entire island was ransacked, murdered, ruthlessly slaughtered. I couldn’t save them. I can’t bring them back either. Maybe this wasn’t Ben’s fault, or even Mal’s. Maybe it was mine.

“Hey, kid. You still with us?” A dark hand waving in front of my face brought me back to reality. Uma, Harry and Gil had all sat on the sofa while I still stood, my eyes locked on the table of ingredients. “You having second thoughts?” I looked back up at him and quickly shook my head. Was I lying? A little. If I couldn’t help my boys back then, how am I going to help them now? They’re already gone, and there’s no magic in this entire realm that could bring them back. But, this far into the plan, I’m starting to realize that this plan isn’t just for me anymore. It may have started that way. I may have befriended Uma and Harry for the sake of numbers and people that share a common enemy. But, I know now that these people can have some serious potential if they had enough power. This elixir and the succession of this plan could give them that potential. “Alright then, let’s get this started! This elixir ain’t gonna make itself!”

One by one the ingredients slipped into the cauldron. The boiling water shifted colors as each bone was dunked, as each fingerful of dust was sprinkled in, as each apple slice was slowly dropped in. By the time nearly all the ingredients were mixed together, the bubbling water had changed from clear to a murky, dirty dark brown. Harry looked up in confusion, nearly disgusted by the color despite being surrounded by it. “Isn’t the elixir supposed to be gold? Or green? Or...something not so disgusting?” 

“It’s because we haven’t put in the key ingredient.” Uma replied, everybody’s eyes shifting towards me. I took the vial out of my pocket and watched as the hairs glimmered gold.

“Wow, and people say Rapunzel has magic hair.” Gil chuckled, amazed by the sparkling shimmer inside the glass vial. As I go to open the vial, Gil interjects with his voice once more. “Wait, um...Doctor F?”

“Facilier, it’s Doctor Facilier.”

“You said there’d be enough of this potion thing for the four of us to drink it but..Harry and I don’t have magic. What’s going to happen to us?” Everyone paused where they stood. For once, Gil had actually made a good point. This was only my third time making this elixir, the past two times making them for some sick fairies who needed the extra push to fly again. I had never tested them on people not Neverland native, much less a person not born with or capable of magic. 

“Well, if you really think about it...magic is basically taking your strongest traits and making them unstoppable. Even without my abilities, I’ve always had a good read on people, making it easy to manipulate their opinions and emotions. Uma’s never been able to use her mother’s magic, but she still feels better when she’s close to water. Don’t you, Captain?” Uma shrugged and nodded her head. “So, maybe you’ll be strong enough to lift the whole ship with just one arm. Imagine how cool that’d be.” Gil gasped and smiled, surely encaptured in that concept. I looked to the cork on the vial, then back at everyone else. “So, shall we?” Everyone nodded eagerly and I could hear a small cackle of excitement from Harry as I opened the cork and dropped the royal hairs in one by one. By the time all ten hairs were mixed in, the potion had turned a glimmery, sparkling gold just as we thought it would. Uma grabbed a ladle she had snatched from the Chip Shoppe’s kitchen and scooped enough to fill the glass vial to the top. 

“So, who’s drinking first?” There was a small silence in the room. Whether it was from fear or from not wanting to sound too selfish, nobody vocally volunteered themselves to take the first sip of the elixir.

“You should, Uma. You are the Captain, after all.” Harry mumbled, a hint of his sincere admiration and affection peeking through a small smile. Uma looked to me, as if wanting my consent to be the first to indulge in this magic elixir.

“Go on, Captain. Don’t worry, if it tastes anything like the Neverland elixir, it should be easy to swallow.” I slowly took the empty ladle from her hand and placed it on the empty desk that once held the elixir’s ingredients. I held onto her empty hand with both of mine and let my fingers caress over her skin. After a deep inhalation, Uma chugged down the sparkling potion and swallowed it whole. A few seconds of silence and slight fear went by before Uma took in a quick gasp, gripping tighter onto my hand to keep herself balanced. I could see her eyes flash a bright, ocean blue for just a moment before returning to their near charcoal shade. Harry and Gil immediately stood up from the sofa and rushed to her side, ready to lift her up if she were to feel faint.

“Uma? Are you okay? What happened?” Harry asked, leaning in to make sure the look on her face wasn’t too pale or otherwise sickly. A second of silence scared everyone else in the room, but after she started to let out her infamously wicked and alluring snicker, we knew she was okay.

“I’ve never felt more exhilarated in my entire life! Nothing was happening at first and then, it felt like my entire body was this massive tidal wave crashing onto shore. And now, I feel like there’s something different going through me. Not blood or thoughts but, something more.” I smiled and helped Uma stand up fully, taking both her hands in mine.

“That’s how magic is supposed to feel. Here, I’ll pour the next one. Go ahead and sit down, you may feel a bit woozy if you stand too long.” As Gil led her down to the sofa, I took the ladle and scooped yet another vial full of the delectable potion. “Does anyone want the next one?” Again, there was silence. As I was about to take the second swig myself, I felt a strong hand take the vial out of mine. I looked up to see Gil holding the potion in his hand, eyeing it in a longing sort of way. “Go ahead, Gil. I promise we won’t let anything bad happen to you.” Gil took a quick nod, certain of our promise, and downed the potion in a single gulp. 

This time, Harry and I waited more in excitement then in fear. Gil’s reaction wasn’t as huge as Uma’s but there definitely was one. One second, Gil was standing with the empty vial in his hand. The next he jumped high and shook away a bunch of energy coursing through his body, as if he had just taken his first shot in a long night of drinking. “Holy shit, that was awesome! You really think I could lift the ship, Sofi?”

“Easy there, Gil. Save the strength for tomorrow, okay?” I laughed as he started to roughhouse a bit with Harry. The two had a relatively short round of horseplay before Gil suddenly had Harry over his shoulder. Considering the two boys’ relatively similar weight and muscle mass, we never thought that was possible. Then, we had realized that my theory had turned out to be correct. Gil’s new spout of magic had brought a whole new meaning to him being ‘the muscle’ of the group. 

“Okay, okay, okay, now I want some of this action. Pour it up, duckling!” Harry near shouted like an excited child on Christmas morning. I grabbed the ladle and poured a third portion of the elixir into the glass vial. With no hesitation, Harry took the vial and lifted it high as he poured the potion down his throat, letting the last drop linger on his tongue. He felt a rush immediately, but from what I could see, there was little to no physical change showing that he now had magic. He was potentially on a rush of adrenaline, meaning whether the elixir had given him magic or not, he definitely felt a physical rush of change. There was only one way to know for sure if the potion had worked on him.

“I guess it’s my turn.” I quietly huffed as I poured another portion of the elixir into the empty vial. A part of me was fearful of the outcome. I knew the potion would work correctly, but I had no idea the effect it would have on me. These past three months were the first time I had ever gone without using my magic. Three months of no magic after who knows how many years of near constant magic was wild enough. But taking all that magic back in at once? I was diving into the ocean without knowing whether or not I’d drown. But, if it would help my Uma take Mal down and claim the leadership she deserves, that’s a risk I’d be willing to take. I slowly tilted my head back and let the elixir slide down my tongue. The taste was oddly familiar. Tangy like a fresh orange with a hint of something herby and earthy. It tasted like home. As the elixir was wholly consumed, I laid the vial and ladle aside as I put my hands on the nearby desk for support in case of any sudden dizziness. 

What I felt next was both euphoric and catastrophic. The thoughts of others didn’t slowly slip in through my ears. They rushed inside my brain, nearly knocking me out with their speed and intensity. I could feel my eyes burning with an emerald flame, something only the kids on Neverland had seen. By the time it was all over, I was electrified with the magic I had once called my home. 

“Is she okay? She looks a little faint. Maybe I should check on her? Should I ask Uma to check on her?”

“Wow, that looked like a lot. I wonder if she felt everything I felt when I drank it. Or maybe she felt more since she’s used her magic before? Maybe Harry and I should check on her.”

“These damn crazy kids. I wouldn’t be doing all of this if those Auradon bastards didn’t kill my boy. But nobody messes with my kids. If they even lay a finger on Celia I’ll have all their heads.”

“Can you really curl your hair with your finger? I see Uma and Sofi do it all the time...maybe it’s just a girl thing.”

Their thoughts began to slow down enough for me to thoroughly listen to them. “You guys don’t need to check on me, I’m fine. I’m more than fine.” I stood up straight and wiped some dust off my shoulders before sitting next to Gil and Uma on the sofa. “Also, Gil, Uma and I don’t curl our hair with our fingers. Our hair is just naturally curly. If you wanna curl your hair so badly, I can give you a ride to Lady Tremaine’s.” Gil’s perked up, confused brow caused a small rise of laughs throughout the room. The thoughts in the room began to quiet down as I slowly gained control over my magic again, putting the minds of others in the background of my brain. As we all grew adjusted to the elixir and its effects, Facilier poured the final scoop of the elixir into the vial and corked it shut as he handed it to Uma. 

“Keep this close with you. The elixir ain’t permanent. You may need this if those Auradon bastards come at you with something strong.” As he saw Uma slip it into her jacket pocket, he walked over to me and glared at me sincerely. “I don’t know what kind of second thoughts you may be having, but you’re going through with this. If not for me, then for Mateo. He would’ve wanted you to keep going.” 

I thought back to the moment that I knew Mateo was going to be a really close friend. It was the same day I had gotten attacked by the wolf cub. I sat alone in my tent, attempting to dress my wounds with palm leaves and hold back the pained sobs when those attempts had failed. Suddenly, I heard the flap of my tent wave open. “I heard someone’s got some new battle scars..can I see them?” I kept my mouth shut and attempted to close him off, knowing that the second I said a word, tears would rush down my face. “I brought something from the med tent that may take the edge off. Do you want it?” I turned and nodded my head, still keeping quiet to keep too much ‘weakness’ from peeking through.

As Mateo dressed the wounds correctly and sprinkled on some healing pixie dust, the pain from the wounds began to subside excluding a small sting from the pixie dust. But the emotional pain, the ping in my chest from my own father telling me I could never be a leader, that’s what was hurting me the most. “Mateo...do you think I made a mistake?”

“Made a mistake? Doing what?”

“Choosing to age, to grow up. I thought it would help me become stronger, faster, smarter. But I don’t think it’s doing any of that. I couldn’t keep a wolf cub off of me!” A shred of my anger began to shine through as everything my father had said came rushing back.

“Well, to be fair, your hands were a little full with all of that fox meat. Pan probably should’ve sent someone out with you.” Mateo chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood as he always did.

“It’s not funny! I couldn’t fight off a wolf cub, my swordfighting is total shit, this new magic I’ve been developing lately is completely out of control...I can’t do anything! What if my dad is right? What if I’m just not fit to be a leader?” As Mateo dressed the last bite mark, he shifted closer to me and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me in for comfort.

“Okay, your swordfighting isn’t the best. And yeah, you’ve got some new powers that you don’t really know how to control yet. But, who threw a dagger so far and so well that it pushed an apple off of Reggie’s head and into a tree?”

“...I did.”

“And who taught Felix how to use the tidal waves to tell if a storm was coming?”

“...I did.”

“And who saved a Lost Boy’s life by catching an arrow that was heading straight for them with her bare hand?” That Lost Boy was him. My dad was angry and drunk and thought killing him would be a good way to piss off Facilier and get a good bloodbath going. But something in my gut clicked fast enough to move Mateo out of the way and catch the arrow to prevent it from hitting anybody else. It could’ve killed me, but I didn’t care.

“I did.”

“So you have some things you need to improve on. That’s fine. But do you know what you’re best at, Sofi? Your strongest skill is helping the other boys. Whether you’re keeping them happy, keeping them safe, or helping them grow in the areas that they need improvement. You never back down on an opportunity to help the Lost Boys. If that’s not a sign of a good leader, I don’t know what is.” 

As my mind came back to the present day, I realized that I shouldn’t be having any sort of second thoughts about this plan. Succeeding in making Mal suffer and taking over Auradon would not only be giving the Lost Revenge crew the potential and inclusion they deserve, but it would be avenging the deaths of everyone I’ve ever cared about. It’d be another instance of me not backing down on an opportunity to help those I loved. This plan will prove that I am, in fact, a good leader. As I watched Facilier pack up his satchel and begin to leave the room, I stood and shouted towards him. “I’m going to make him proud, Doc. I promise.” At the sudden yell, Harry, Uma and Gil all stood to listen. “We were all brutally wronged by Auradon. Their system has been suppressing us, starving us, killing us for far too long! Tomorrow, we will take Auradon into our hands and give every single kid on this Isle the chance they deserve! If we have to spill some blood to do it...then let the blood spill. Rest up, everyone. Because tomorrow, we fight!”

[mithranqueersmusings]

Before This Dance Is Through II

Chapter: 2/16

Rating: T

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo was just about to get into bed when a notification rang out from his phone, it was charging on the other side of the room because that was the only way he could get himself out of bed in the morning. It was almost 2 o'clock in the morning which meant the text could only be from one person.

        you up???

This was far from the first of these texts that Ringo had received from John, they were almost a weekly occurrence by this point but more often than not Ringo had already fallen asleep.

        was just about to go to bed. why?

        do you have work tomorrow????

        not until 12         do you?

        fuck off

John was a writer, a poet more than anything, which meant that he was always working which really meant that he was never working. Ringo was a drum teacher, had been for almost 7 years at this point, which wasn't as exciting as it sounded; he mostly worked for rich families who had a child who was trying to do something edgy or was brought into schools for one of those strange activity days. Drumming was Ringo's passion and while he was glad that he was able to earn money doing something he loved, he dearly wished he was able to drum for himself rather than spending several hours a week just trying to get a kid to hold the sticks correctly.

        i was about to take a little ride down the helter skelter         care to join me ;)

Ringo stared down at his phone for a moment. It had been over a week since John had dragged him out to that strip club, and while he'd like to say that he'd forgotten about the whole thing it was far from the truth. The sight of Spike dancing on that stage had plagued his memory almost every night since, leading to more than one occasion of late-night indulgence. Ringo had felt guilty touching himself thinking about the other man, but he couldn't pinpoint the reason; he supposed it must've been the guilt he'd felt when watching him dance, and the shame that followed from having to run away into the bathroom like a scared, little kid. His thumbs were frozen in place hovering above his phone screen while his mind was racing. The sensible part of his brain told him to just go to bed, if he indulged this desire tonight it would make the last time more than a one-off and he wasn't sure he was prepared to accept that. Yet the deeper part of his mind, the one he often tried to ignore, urged him to go back just for the opportunity to see Spike again - after all, the current wank material he was providing was getting a little stale.

        have you fallen asleep you twat

        no no im still here

        well do you wanna come or not?? i can pick you up

        are you sober?

        mostly

        mostly?

        fuck sake         ARE YOU COMING OR NOT

        fine         but ill drive

        whatever makes you happy

As much as he wouldn't like to admit it, Ringo spent a ridiculous amount of time - by his standards - choosing what to wear. Even though he knew the club was dangerously dark, and even though what he wore shouldn't really matter, that voice in the back of his mind told him to look nice for him. For the stripper he'd seen for about 5 minutes, the stripper whose real name he didn't even know, who probably didn't even remember Ringo in the slightest. He'd tried his best to not read too far into the obsession his brain seemed to have with Spike - trying to separate himself from his thoughts as though they were two separate beings had been a vital step in this - but as he stood in front of his mirror comparing two near identical jumpers, he supposed he wasn't going to be able to ignore it for much longer. His heart even felt heavy at the thought that Spike might be working tonight; he couldn't tell if it was just a strange fixation that his desperation had conjured up but the only thing he knew for certain was that he wanted to see him again.

Ringo arrived at John's place later than he would've liked but when the front door was opened to revealed a very ruffled, very drunk man, Ringo figured John wouldn't have noticed how long he'd been.

"Mostly sober?" Ringo scoffed at the sight of him, his cheeks rosy and a satisfied smile spread across his lips.

"You're not my mum and you're not the police, so fuck off." John was leaning against the door-frame, Ringo supposed partly for support and partly to look cool.

It was a common occurrence for John to get like this, far more common than Ringo would've liked. John drank a lot, at first Ringo figured it was just something everyone did when they got old enough to drink with almost no consequences, then as it continued he tried to explain it away as just something artists did. Years had passed since Ringo had first noticed it and nothing had really changed, it had gotten worse if anything, but there was nothing he really felt he could do. He debated whether he should cancel the plan altogether, to insist that John stayed home and got some sleep, but things were never really that simple. He was almost certain that if he refused to drive them, John would only find another way. He'd tried multiple things over the years: dragging him along to AA meetings, swearing to give up alcohol alongside him, even refusing to hang out with him if he'd been drinking, but nothing seemed to work. John had been through a lot, still was going through a lot, so Ringo figured the best thing he could do was simply to be there for John, it was both the most and least he could do.

Before they headed out Ringo at least managed to convince John to eat some leftover Chinese food he had in the fridge in an attempt to soak up the alcohol somewhat - and to ensure he'd had at least one semi-decent meal that day. They then slid into Ringo's car, it was a little beaten up but it served its purpose, and drove off to the place Ringo was almost certain would be the death of him. It was a Saturday so unsurprisingly the club was a great deal busier than it had been last time, there were several small groups of people smoking outside, some of them clearly workers and how they weren't risking getting frostbite Ringo didn't know. Any hopes of John sobering up a little on the journey there were dashed when he immediately hurried over to the bar as soon as they walked in the door. Ringo tried to stick to his side as best he could, his nervousness from the first time felt like it had tripled with how busy the place was now, so he aimed to keep in John's gravitational pull as much as possible. The music seemed louder but Ringo was certain that was just his imagination. They had to elbow their way to the front of the bar just to get noticed, luckily John had no qualms doing it, which resulted in a few glares from the other customers.

With their drinks in hand they couldn't sit - or hide as Ringo saw it - at the bar like they had done last time, instead they moved further into the club in search for a place to sit. There was a booth near the bathroom that was empty, for obvious reasons, which Ringo pulled them towards desperately. Maybe this was a bad idea. What was he really expecting after all? At most he'd catch another glimpse of Spike, almost have a heart-attack then have to run home less than ten minutes later. Anxiety began nibbling away at his mind, it had a nasty habit of doing that, and the claustrophobic atmosphere wasn't helping. John seemed right at home, as he did almost anywhere, craning his neck between people in search for someone.

"Looking for your Paulie?" Ringo asked in an eager attempt to calm his nerves.

"He's hardly mine." John chuckled, not turning to look at Ringo but continuing his search "Might not even be working tonight."

"Don't you have like his schedule or something?" Ringo sipped his drink.

"That'd be making things a little too official. Not really my style." John sat back in his seat with a small huff, clearly he didn't find what he was looking for.

From where they were sitting they had a fairly obstructed view of the stage but from what little Ringo could gather he wasn't too interested: a muscular man dressed as a policeman was gradually getting undressed while making crude use of a prop baton.

"Any sign of your guy?" John shouted to be heard over the music and it made Ringo jump.

Ringo paused for a moment looking into John's eyes, he considered playing dumb but decided there was no use "Afraid not. Maybe he's not working tonight either."

"That'd be some rotten luck." John clicked his tongue in his mouth "Let's check the back."

"The back?" Ringo raised an eyebrow "That sounds unbelievably dodgy."

"It's not! Well..." John broke his sentence with a laugh "It's just where they do the more 'alternative' stuff, you know?"

"No I don't know, but I suppose I'm gonna find out." Ringo chuckled rather weakly.

John raised his glass in the air a little and Ringo clinked his own against it, they downed the remainder of their drinks and slammed the glasses down on the table unnecessarily hard. John then led them around the edge of the stage, they managed to get another drink at the second bar before they headed down a suspiciously narrow set of stairs which led to an even darker corridor. They then passed through a squeaky door into a small room, barely lit excluding a spotlight focused on a stage at the other end. There were several people scattered across the limited space, a few resting against a makeshift bar which consisted of planks of wood connected to the walls and the rest sat to face the stage.

And there he was. Spike was sat on a stool onstage with an acoustic guitar in his lap and absolutely nothing else. It wasn't a sight Ringo had been prepared for, as much as the erotic gyrating and tear-away clothing had been a shock to his system this was completely different.

Ringo stopped in his tracks when he computed the sight: his pale, lean body curled up around the guitar that he was playing beautifully. His hair wasn't coiffed this time, rather it fell down across his sharp face in waves with faint curls. John turned around when he'd noticed Ringo's absence beside him, a sly grin curled on his face as he grabbed Ringo's arm and pulled him down to the front where they sat.

"What did I tell you?" John whispered "Sexy art."

Spike didn't seem to notice them despite how close they were, he seemed completely immersed in the music he was playing. Ringo hadn't recognised the song at first, perhaps he'd been to busy focusing on other things, but now he could tell it was 'Heaven' by Talking Heads; he made a happy note in his mind that it seemed like the two of them had a somewhat similar music taste, although he couldn't really admit that such a thing shouldn't matter. Looking around at the other customers, it looked like they were mostly taking refuge from the chaos of the main room, many of them resting their heads against the bar for some comfort and the others bordering on unconscious.

Somehow this occasion made Ringo feel even more nervous, even though their previous encounter had been extremely closer and inherently sexual, it was more personal therefore way more uncomfortable. He could hear his voice now, another piece of the puzzle he was shamefully building in his mind, and it was beautiful. It was a little husky but still gentle, an accent poking through in places. Ringo could get a better look at his face now: the dark eyelashes, the hints of hair between his two eyebrows and sharp canine teeth protruding from his open mouth. His eyes focused on the slender fingers playing the guitar strings, veins showing underneath the skin. Ringo felt like he was watching something very private, as if Spike was completely unaware of everyone's presence and could see nothing but his guitar. A quick way to Ringo's heart was through music and it was looking like Spike had bought a first-class ticket.

Ringo hadn't even noticed that the song had ended at first, not until John began clapping and cheering loudly in his ear. Spike seemed similarly out of it, the sudden sound of John snapping his attention away from the music and he gave a small smile in response. They seemed like completely different people: the strutting, confident man from a week ago and the soft, vulnerable one in front of them now. Sparse claps followed shortly after John's, the lack of energy caused by alcohol wearing off was very evident.

"You're pretty good." John almost shouted, Ringo wasn't sure if it was because he was drunk or he still hadn't adjusted from the other room.

"Thanks." Spike replied, his fingers still wrapped around the neck of the guitar "Any requests?"

Ringo had thought his singing voice was beautiful, but the way he spoke somehow had even more of an effect on him. The accent was thicker now and judging by how such a small amount of words could excite him so much, Ringo knew he was in trouble.

"I dunno... What do you think Ringo?" John nudged his friend beside him, embarrassingly emphasising his name which just about managed to shake Ringo from the daze he was falling into.

"Oh, er-" Ringo stammered for a second, Spike looking right at him wasn't helping his nerves in the slightest "Know any Bob Dylan?"

Spike laughed at this and for a moment Ringo cursed himself but before he could chastise himself too harshly, Spike smiled again and spoke "He's one of my favourites."

John nudged Ringo again but he wasn't paying enough attention to him to get embarrassed. He was far too focused on how Spike's fingers began to play the guitar once more, the way his lips moved over his teeth and how his bare feet tapped against the footrest of the stool as he began singing 'Just Like a Woman'. Once again he seemed to disappear into the music which Ringo was very grateful for, for if his eyes began to wander and met his unfaltering gaze he was certain he wouldn't be able to take it. For the majority of the song Ringo had completely forgotten his surroundings, the faint pulse of the loud music from upstairs or the drooling men strewn about the room, he'd even forgotten that Spike was naked while he played. John seemed similarly impressed, although he was considerably more inebriated than Ringo was, and he could see John passing him a few sideways glances during the song.

When the song ended John enthusiastically applauded once more, Ringo followed suit with a slight delay as he found his mind shutting off everything around him. Spike looked down at the two of them with a smile, shuffled in the stool then stood up.

"Well that's all from me." He spoke "Thanks for listening." The words were directed purely at John and Ringo, while there were others who appeared to be barely listening in the back nobody else seemed to be paying much attention.

"Wait!" John called out, startling both Spike and Ringo "Are you done for the night?"

Spike chuckled softly "No, they're gonna close this room in a little bit though, so you might wanna clear out."

"Will you give my friend a private dance?" John asked and now it was Ringo's turn to nudge him.

"Not dressed like this I can't." Spike gestured with his free hand to his nakedness, his guitar was the only thing upholding his modesty.

Ringo was glaring at John now, who only gave him a quick glance before returning his attention back to Spike "How about we come find you upstairs in a few minutes?"

"Fine by me." Spike replied and turned his gaze to Ringo "But your friend doesn't seem too keen."

He didn't give either of them time to protest, which was probably for the best because Ringo was having trouble articulating any coherent thoughts, as he turned his back and walked off the stage. Ringo fought the urge to not look at his arse as he left, and failed entirely. John giggled at the sight which broke Ringo's absentmindedness. The nudge evolved into a harder shove which only intensified John's laughter.

"I hate you." Ringo hissed but he couldn't stop the laughter from breaking through.

"What did I do?" John held his hands up helplessly and Ringo gave him another shove which rocked the chair sideways.

A bouncer walked into the room at the moment, calling for everyone to head back upstairs; Ringo envied the unconscious drunkards that were unable to return to the main room. John's laughter didn't subside the entire time they made their way up the stairs, only being silenced when he took a sip of his newly ordered drink. The room had thinned out a little, Ringo supposed the closing of downstairs only signalled that most people were going to start heading home now, but there were clearly many people who were aiming to stay as long as they possibly could. They managed to get two seats at the bar which allowed Ringo to look amongst the crowd nervously for any sight of Spike.

"What are you so worried about?" John asked, leaning his elbow on the counter.

"Honestly I don't know." Ringo chuckled "It's a bit pathetic, huh?"

"You said it, not me." John grinned "No, no it's just strange. I know you're not the world's biggest slut but you're no prude either."

"I don't think it's a prude thing." Ringo suggested.

"Then what?" John pried, he ran his finger around the rim of his glass.

"It's just him." Ringo lowered his voice a little.

"Well shit. Ringo's in love with a stripper." John matched Ringo's volume but enunciated the words enough that he may as well have been shouting.

"Shut up." Ringo shook his head "You're one to talk."

"Don't bring Paulie into this, that's a strictly professional relationship." John pointed his finger in Ringo's face which made him laugh. "This isn't about me anyway, it's about you. I'm not leaving here until you get that dance."

"You might be waiting a while then." Ringo said a little sadly.

"Nope, I refuse. You'll thank me later, I swear to it." John had moved his hand to Ringo's shoulder now.

"I'm just scared." Ringo mumbled.

"Of what? Ringo, these people have put up with the weirdest, creepiest fucks you can imagine. He'll probably be over the moon that you don't look like you belong on a register." John shook Ringo lightly, forcing him to look up at him.

Ringo let out a huff "Fine, if it'll shut you up."

"Sure if that's the line you wanna go with." John chuckled "You want it Ringo, stop denying yourself the pleasure. Be more like me."

"I dunno if I wanna take it that far." Ringo looked out amongst the room again and caught sight of a familiar face.

John followed Ringo's line of sight and beamed when he spotted Spike "Come on then, time to pop your cherry."

"Please don't put it like that." Ringo rolled his eyes as John pulled him up from his seat.

It wasn't really nervousness he was feeling, it was difficult to pinpoint exactly what it was. Ringo knew that he if he didn't want to this then he didn't have to, it would've been as simple as that, but he did want to. It was probably exactly how much he wanted it that scared him. Like the feeling that happens right before getting up on stage or before revealing good news to a loved one: excitement so intense it can turn into sickness. And Ringo was excited; he was very, very excited.

[jamiebluewind]

Character Descriptions for Fantasy High 2.9!

***

As always, let me know if I need to edit or add anything and tag/ask/PM me about art and stories so I can check them out!

Warning: trauma, abuse, mental abuse, neglect, starvation, manipulation, memory loss mention, dark themes, isolation, imprisonment, fantasy racism, vomit mention (please let me know if I missed any)

All pronounciations typed out have a rolled R.

***

Facts

The party is currently at 44,100 exp. each. Next level is at 48,000 (which will probably take 3 more big battles, 2 if Brennan is super generous with RP awards).

Abernant family had all their land and wealth reclaimed by The Court of Stars for their treachery and failure to prevent a war with Solace. Elianwyn committed treason and betrayal as well.

To save Adaine, the group decided to break up into 3 teams: Pylon 1 (Ragh, Tracker, Cathilda, and Sandra Lynn), Pylon 2 (Gorgug, Fabian, and Riz), and Recovery (Ayda, Fig, and Kristen). Team 1 and 2 would simultaneously take out the pylons. Then, the recovery team would go in (invisible and/or disguised) and gets Adaine and Aelwyn. They would all meet back at Van where they would most likely use Ayda's teleport to leave Fallinel (or regroup to plan their next move).

***

New Characters

Tell-ah-mine Low-men-el-da

Fabian's grandpapa

Tall elf with regal green robes, a silver circlet, long platinum white blond hair with a widows peak, and shimmering blue eyes

Crinkle in the corners of his eyes shows his age in sort of an Elrond way. He look of a dude in his late 40s/early 50s who took excellent care of his body and kept it tight

Moves with supernatural grace

Can turn into silver sand and float away

Has no concept of what time means

Obsessed with the fact that his grandson will die before him (Your human blood has brought mortality to this family. You will one day die.)

Offers to send word to an elf who is a fabled eye smith who lives on the high mountains at the heart of Fallinel that can craft a working eye (from songs, whispers, beams of moonlight, jeweled edges of the blue of the sea, and shimmering poems pulled from the ether itself) for Fabian, but has no clue how long it will take (a moment, a year, or a hundred years).

Can't pronounce words in common very well, especially words he's never heard before (which delights Fabian and pisses off Gorgug)

Calls Fabian Aramais Seacaster fa-bee-ahn ah-rye-ah-my-ess Seacaster (which might actually be the proper pronouncations of his name in that region as "Seacaster" was said correctly and that's how all the other elves say his name as well) and calls Hallariel ha-lair-ee-el

Weeps without moving his face, but also sometimes makes a soft eeehhhh sound when he cries (at one point he cried over a drop of water)

Gifted stewardship of Khy-low Meh-new-rah 3000 years ago after he crafted The Sword of the North Star (he was the smith of fung-dran-ghoor) for the ancient king of Fallinel Th-wrist-win Eversong.

"Without the Elven Oracle, we are lost."

Saw the Abernants as power hungry and cruel and can't understand why they would leave Fallinel. He found Anguin in particular to be a crass and small man with no nobility, only a thirst for power.

Thinks Riz has a harsh energy, is "a little dick", and calls him "a strange green mouse thing"

Got physically ill when a gun was explained to him, calling it gross and some dwarven kind of thing before vomiting which he turns into a flock of white crows

Vhan-lair-ee-el

Fabian's aunt

Tried to heal Fabian's pneumonia with elvan singing

Said "I have failed" when her singing doesn't work before she fades into starlight and vanishes

Hal-door-in and [unnamed youth]

Elven teens in white linen shorts arguing because [unnamed] believes Hal-door-in took his lute.

Calmed by a distant song which stopped their fight.

Faf-threth-riel

Lithe elven youth (around 17 or 18 years old) with a blond mop of hair covering one eye

Bakes elven whey bread

Lived a sheltered life

Ragh was the first half-orc he met

Mostly into Ragh due to Ragh being half orc, excessively talking about his green skin (like the boughs of a tree leafy, my leafy man), being big and beefy (your legs are like the mighty trunks of trees), was really into rage (like when Ragh punched a seat cushion) to the point of it making Ragh uncomfortable

Sang in bed

Treth-thren-ren

Elven youth who does morning dance yoga

Tried to get Fabian to eat a grape

Oak Warriors

Elemental plant based automaton soldiers made of pure magic

Look like 8 foot tall green men with leaves coming from their faces

***

Changes to Established Characters

Aelwyn

Matted long blond hair

Dry skin, chapped colorless lips, and thick bags under her eyes

Severely dehydrated and trance deprived (probably hasn't been allowed to trance for nearly a year)

5 points of exhaustion. Only magic is keeping her from going to the 6th level and dying.

Her "room" is a large large beautiful elven chamber with silver and marble. Ambiant light glows from the white stone.

Trapped inside a 15 foot diameter orb that's constantly turning so she can't trance

Crawling on hands and knees while trapped, shaking with the effort

Doesn't give Adaine up to Kear

Can still remember how to cast the message cantrip

Feels strange and addled (unable to think clearly; confused), can't remember what's real or imagined anymore, doesn't clearly remember what happened in her past (including what she did to get imprisoned), and forgets what she and Adaine have already talked about (causing a lot of reputation).

Thinks her parents "tried their best they could" and that "they expected quite a lot of us, but isn't that what- doesn't that... didn't that make us great?" (possibly due to something her father said or did since her imprisonment as it echoes a few things he's said)

Gilear

Looks scruffy (from not shaving), dirty, and has pit stains

Somehow didn't mess up being diplomatic with Fabian's grandpapa

Unbuttons the top button on his shirt when he "lets loose"

To Fig about Sandra Lynn and Garthy: Are you aware of such... hanky panky?

Learning of Sandra Lynn's infidelity with Garthy "Honestly? Perhaps this is... fucked up. It makes me feel... like there wasn't something uniquely wrong with me. Maybe a tiny little w for Gilear."

Spent the night walking through the forest with Hallariel's father, reciting poetry (badly)

To Fabian after Hallariel's father threw up "You're low and he's low. It's Gilear's day baby! It's Gilear's day."

Tried to ask Hallariel's father for her hand, but even though Fig gave him bardic inspiration and Riz helped by covering Fabian's mouth, he failed... so much. ("Lord Tell-ah-mine of Khy-low Meh-new-rah I like you am-" *makes himself throw up* "We get it. We both get it. We... We're the throw up boys." *passes out*)

Ayda

Hid in the van the entire visit

Might have rejection sensitive dysphoria (which is common in those with autism or ADHD)

Did a sending spell to Zelda for Gorgug for 150 gold (after reminding him that she very much does not like anyone in her debt or visa versa)

Offered to exact vengeance on Zelda for Gorgug

Is powerful enough to know teleport and learn plane shift (so level 13 or higher)

Stated that Adaine is her best friend and decides that since Fig is also Adaine's best friend, by the transitive property she is best friends with Fig as well (and Fig agreed). Learning this, she says "Fantastic. I grow richer by the day. I'm emotional." before starting to cry fire "I'm emotional. I'm gonna fly away." She then flew away, returning after she had calmed down.

Ragh

Ate grapes and started burping musical notes after he left Khy-low Meh-new-rah.

Lost his virginity to Faf-threth-riel who then got creepy and kinda racist, making Ragh very uncomfortable (and want to get out of there asap)

Fabian

Lost both points of exhaustion thanks to the 8000 thread count elven sheets (did they get to keep the sheets or at least one sheet for help with exhaustion?)

Felt really good when he tried out dance yoga, even wondering if he should be some kind of yoga dancer instead of a fighter (how about a whirling dervish dancer like Cathilda?)

The grapes he put in his pocket (after refusing to eat them) turned into song

Indifferent towards saving Aelwyn and doesn't want to be on the retrieval team

When he started feeling anxious about the Aelwyn stuff, Riz told him to lose himself in dancing again to feel free (Riz: You are the only one that I wanna see dancing right now.) It made him feel much better.

***

Other Characters

Adaine

Taken by Court of Stars

Her jacket and spellbook were taken

Trapped in an orb which is soft and doesn't hurt her, but the constant movement of its slow turning doesn't allow her to be still or trance

The walls of her room glow with runes and there are many perminant magical effects, making her captors capable of some crazy things (like prepared directional counter spells), but the setup wouldn't counter cantrips

Escaped the orb with dispel magic (dc 15) which makes a couple counter spells go off and an alarm sound

Hid in Aelwyn's room. The sister's spoke before she was recaptured and placed back in her orb. Adaine told Aelwyn that she was going to get her out

Discovered that her room was close enough to Aelwyn to talk to her via the message cantrip

Repeatedly cast Ray of Frost to turn her orb into a slip and slide to stay entertained

Instead of speaking to her father in elvish, she responded in common. Also cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter on him.

Anguin and Kear said she would be executed for treason for staying in Solace and refusing to cooperate. She demanded a lawyer and then the Ambassador to Solace, citing her age and being a student at Augefort Adventuring Academy which summoned a recorded hologram of Arthur Augefort.

Arthur Augefort

Has a recorded hologram that is activated when a student claims the need of his diplomatic help in foreign affairs.

It threatens the listeners with graphic and terrifying violence and doom, giving them the options of either rectify the actions that summoned him (Yes) or refuse and welcome the aforementioned punishment for their actions (No).

Gorgug

Fabian's grandfather called him Jhor-judge

Finally got a message to Zelda via Ayda using her sending spell (Zelda. Safe in Fallinel. Gonna finish cell tower soon. Sorry about everything, but hope your break is going well in spite of this. Miss you.) and got a reply the next morning a little while after waking up (Sorry. Was at a party. You don't have to build a cell tower. That's crazy. It's all whatever Gorgug. I don't blame you.)

Didn't sleep well, but still got the benefit of a full night's sleep due to elven sheets.

Kristen

Got in a fight with Tracker and then got 3 nat 1s on persuasion checks when she tried to make up with her.

Slept in Adaine's room

Doesn't know how to make a cell tower

Took one of the 40 to 50 foot long diaphanous silk scarves with her

Gave (inspiring?) speech ending with "Friendship is thinker than water and we need water to live." which gave everyone 11 temp hit points

Accidentally called Pok a "smiling elf" and then blew it off as being due to her being human

Can now see Shadow Cat in the picture (along with Tracker, Sandra Lynn, Garthy, Riz, and Sklonda and possibly the dead cambian, Pok, Jace, and Adaine's mom) and reacted by saying "Was I spooning the cat all night in the milk!?"

Sandra Lynn

Dropped out senior year and got her diploma after the fact to join an adventuring party

Joined as a replacement member for an existing adventuring party that was already active in the world and included an older much more powerful married couple.

Fresh out of high school, fell in love with one person from the couple (nonbinary or gender intentionally hidden) who "did not treat her very kindly"

When it all came out, she was ejected from the adventuring party, her romantic partner took great pains to smear her name (so no one would accept her), no other party would take her as a replacement, and she was forced to become a Celesian Ranger

Gilear knows who the couple were, but doesn't want to tell Fig (could she know the people involved?)

Key-heir/Khear

Child-like elven maiden with long brown braided hair, a white gown, and a large staff.

When confronted by Arthur Augefort's hologram, she chose to not heed his warnings.

***

More from 2.9!

***

Previous

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

FANFICTION.NET

TUMBLR CHAPTER INDEX

QUEST 05: MISSING, PRESUMED DEATH

QUEST SUMMARY:

Sliske invites all of Gielinor’s returned gods to his ‘grand ascendency’, claiming godhood. Instead, he uses the platform to pit all the gods against one another in a free-for-all that threatens to tear Gielinor apart. Their incentive? The sole survivor will be awarded what every deity is desperate for - the Stone of Jas...

CHAPTER 1: UNDYING

It was a good three weeks before things calmed down in the war hospital enough that Ozan and Jahaan were dismissed from their duties. They’d been immersed in such a chaotic environment for so long that when they suddenly stopped it was a shock to the system, and both men felt rather displaced. Since Ozan decided to go and reunite with Ariane and Coal - who he had been separated from since the war began - Jahaan thought to tag along and see if he could assist in any of the rebuilding of Lumbridge before he settled upon what to do next. That was the issue after having left the Imperial Guard - finding purpose in day-to-day life. Up until now, life had done a pretty good job of throwing him into adventure, for better or for worse. Being directionless wasn’t his strong suit.

I’ve always wanted to see Prifddinas for myself, Jahaan toyed with the idea in his mind. Though it’s the other side of the world. I can’t walk it. Fuck that noise. I’d need a teleport. Maybe Ariane could get me close…

The two men walked through the remains of Lumbridge, pleased to see just how well the rebuilding effort was going. A lot of structures had four walls now, some of them even a sturdy looking roof. They hadn’t witnessed the destruction at the hands of the gods themselves, but if it was anything like the stories the wounded had told them, then the progress they've made in rebuilding this much was incredible.

After getting some directions from a knight, they were told Ariane would likely be found in or around the mill at the northern end of the town where the Saradominist camp had set up a base of operations. As they approached, Ozan saw Ariane alternating between hand-feeding the chickens some grain in the neighbouring field and ushering Coal away from eating the chickens whole. His face broke into a picture of happiness.

“I’m going to see Sir Tiffy,” Jahaan gave his friend a pat on his back, but Ozan was too captivated to hear him or notice the gesture. “I’ll catch up to you later.”

“Hm, what?” Ozan drawled, dreamily. “Oh, right. Catch you later.”

With that, he made for the field, and Jahaan watched him go, feeling like he was watching a romantic play in action, overdosing on the sappiness of it all. After forcing himself to stop grinning like an idiot at the sight, he made for the mill entrance.

A white knight stopped him, asking for his credentials. After giving him his name, the knight retreated inside, and moments later, a cheery old voice called out, “Come in, my boy!”

A warm grin spread across Jahaan’s face. Sir Tiffy’s voice never failed to cheer him up.

The mill seemed a lot bigger on the inside than it did outside, fitting desks, armour stands and enough of Saradomin’s top knights with room to spare. When he caught Sir Tiffy’s eye, he bowed in greeting.

“Forget that son, come here!” Sir Tiffy motioned him in for a hug. Knowing it would be rude to refuse, Jahaan forfeited his personal space long enough to allow the old knight to give him a tight squeeze, one with the amount of enthusiasm only reserved for drunk people. It was made worse by the fact the knight was wearing armour.

Finally releasing the man he was suffocating, Sir Tiffy motioned for Jahaan to sit opposite him and exclaimed, “I haven’t seen you in so long, lad! Would you like a cup of tea?”

Politely, Jahaan declined. Sir Tiffy ordered one for himself before asking, “How’s Al Kharid? It was a shame you didn’t stay and fight - we could have done with your help - but I understand, my boy.”

“It was nice to be back in the desert,” Jahaan replied, dancing past the whole ‘abandoning Saradomin’ debate that Sir Owen had brought up when he first left. “Congratulations on your victory.”

“Ah, it was marvelous! Such an honour to fight under the lord himself, what?” Sir Tiffy took the piping hot cup of tea and sipped it delicately.

“Sir, the priest has an issue with the placement of his new church,” one of the knights barged into mil, sleepless eyes that told the world he’d ‘had it up to here’ with everyone and everything. “He says that the river is too-”

That was when his eyes caught Jahaan’s, and in a flash, his sword was drawn. Instinctively, Jahaan shot up from his chair and drew his own, backing himself up into a wall. Like dominos, other knights drew their swords and pointed them at Jahaan.

Oh shit. He remembered.

Sir Tiffy shot up from behind his desk. “What is the meaning of this here, what?”

“It’s him,” the knight spat. “The one that killed Sir Tenly at the Al Kharid border!”

Sir Tiffy looked heartbroken, sorrowful eyes resting upon a panic-stricken Jahaan who looked like a cornered animal. “Is it true, lad?”

“It… it happened so fast!” Jahaan felt the weight of disapproval and anger directed at him, heavier than any armour. It broke his own heart, the thought of disappointing one of his heroes. “I didn’t mean to. I just-... he just-...”

His defence was as flimsy as papyrus, and worth as much too.

“Jahaan, I didn’t take you for a… for a murderer,” Sir Tiffy choked. “When I heard about the incident, never in a lifetime would I have thought it’d be you to murder one of my boys…”

“I’m not a murderer!” Jahaan protested, but it was in vain. He knew it was too late for him.

With a long, painful sigh, Sir Tiffy announced, “I have no choice. Until this here matter is cleared up, I am arresting you in the name of Saradomin. Put down your sword, lad.”

Fuck that.

Jahaan pressed himself backwards even further, the wall greeting him like an unwelcome house guest. Seeing how he was outnumbered, without armour and in the middle of Saradominist territory, he didn’t fancy his chances in a sword fight. Instead, he subtly reached into his pocket and clasped his hand around the runes Gypsy Aris had given him all that time ago, thanking the gods he’d thought to keep ahold of them.

Runes came with certain charges infused into them; for this particular spell Gypsy Aris wanted him to use, he needed two of each element, so two charges were placed into the runes. The tiny stones felt warm in his palms, buzzing with hidden energy.

Taking a deep, measured breath, he tried to calm himself and focus on the centre of East Ardougne's market square. He tried to picture all the stalls, the guards patrolling the premise, the people rushing about the place, desperate for a deal. If he had a clear enough mind and focused correctly, he should be whisked away and planted in the market square. At least, that’s what he thought. The wizards that tried to teach him teleportation didn’t really go into much detail, and honestly, he had no idea how or why it worked. So many people use it as an effective means of transportation, but magic really wasn’t Jahaan’s cup of tea. He felt more comfortable with something tangible in his hands, and while the rune stones were technically tangible, the energy and magic they exuded was far from it.

Though he knew it wasn’t ideal, and he’d be making an enemy of just about Saradominist knight for doing so, Jahaan decided upon ‘fuck it’, and tried to channel the spell.

Exhaling slowly, Jahaan concentrated so hard, focused so much on trying to block out the chaos surrounding him, until eventually he was whisked away, furious knights shouting at him in his wake.

When he opened his eyes, many people were standing over him, a lot of them laughing. He felt something very uncomfortable beneath him, jagged and sharp, but right next to it was something undeniably soft and squishy. When he managed to examine his hand, he noticed it was covered in jam.

“GER OFF ME STALL!” came a loud, bellowing voice, followed by rough hands forcing him to his feet. He tried to gather his bearings, quickly trying to shake off the wave of nausea that always accompanied his teleportation attempts.

Well, at least I made it to the market...

Behind him was the collapsed remains of the cake stall he’d landed on, accompanied by the very cross looking stall owner. Guards were enclosing on him, looking equally cross.

He briefly opened his mouth to try and explain himself, then thought better of it, instead deciding to follow the philosophy that had served him vaguely well for the last couple of hours:

Fuck it.

With that, he took off running, bolting out of the market square and through the smaller streets of the outskirts of East Ardougne, not even looking back to see how many guards were on his tail. Oh, he was definitely being pursued - he could hear their footsteps and panting behind him - but Jahaan had the stamina advantage, and after enough ducking weaving between side streets, he lost the guards.

Straightening himself out, Jahaan took a long gulp of water from his waterskin, caught his breath, and tried to look as non-suspicious as possible as he left through the city gates.

Well, that didn’t go as well as I’d hoped, Jahaan huffed, not dawdling around the city’s walls for more than a moment’s breath. Instead, he kept running north, wanting to put as much distance between angry guards and himself as possible.

Once he was sure he wasn’t being pursued any longer, Jahaan all but collapsed on the grass, doubled over and fighting for breath. Damn, I need to work on my cardio…

Suddenly Gypsy Aris’ vision seemed to make a lot more sense. How did she know? Jahaan wondered, And why couldn’t she have foreseen a destiny with less being chased by angry men with swords?

Another thought popped into his head - Ozan. Word would have gotten around by now, so hopefully he’d at least know he was safe, but Jahaan decided to send a letter next time he saw Postie Pete roaming around, just in case.

Picking himself off the could and wiping dry the grass stains he’d accrued, Jahaan examined his surroundings. Well, what little there were.

Trees. Trees as far as the eye can see. The rough outline of a structure to the north-east Jahaan deduced would be the Legends’ Guild, and thus knew to stay far away from that. Seeing as the nearest civilisation (that wasn’t Ardougne) was Seers’ Village, he decided to make his way back up there, hoping they’d allow him back in the pub after the ruckus he created last time, and figure out what to do after a few drinks and decent meal inside him.

So, using the sun as a compass, he started walking.

And walking, and walking.

A lot of this adventuring lark really is nothing but walking.

Then, breaking him out of his daydream-like trance he’d found himself in as he lumbered onwards, a weak voice called out from behind him, “Kind sir, please wait!” 

When Jahaan turned to the west, the origin of the cry, he saw a bloodstained monk stumbling towards him. “Please... Oh great Saradomin please help me!”

It wasn’t every day you saw a monk in such a frenzy; Jahaan’s concern peaked, and before he knew it, he was trailing after the monk, who ushered him to follow. “What's going on?”

It didn’t take long for them to reach what he was being led to - three bodies, bloodstained and lifeless, cloaked in monk’s robes. But this wasn’t like any other corpse he’d ever seen. No, these ones had a pool of grey mist floating above them, twisting and turning, weaving and bending in place. And the awful wailing they made… it sent chills down Jahaan’s spine. It looked like their souls were detached from their bodies.

“I-It all happened so fast,” the monk quavered, “Please protect me. Please! Oh no - what if they come back?!”

“It's okay, I can help you,” Jahaan softly reassured, asking, “Try to calm down. Can you tell me your name?”

“Samuel. B-Brother Samuel,” the monk introduced, his breathing slightly more collected now. “Someone... m-murdered my brothers. Th-they left me alive. Why didn't they take me and not them?”

Jahaan studied the corpses, his eyes unable to draw away from the tortured souls floating above them. “Something’s wrong with them. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“I-It only happened after their murder, I-I don't think it was the killer that caused it. They just look so tormented, like their souls cannot pass onto the afterlife…”

The souls will not rise… Jahaan remembered the haunting words of Gypsy Aris, causing him to visibly shudder.

Not noticing this, a whimpering Brother Samuel continued, “I keep racking my brains, but it's all a blur. Damn my old age - I can't remember anything of the attacker!”

This desperately disheartened Jahaan. “Really, nothing?”

“I-I only saw the attacker flee in darkness, like the light had been sucked from the area! But I did not get a good look at them. P-Please, I beg of you... help me search for evidence so we can find who killed my brothers and bring them to justice.”

“Of course I’ll help you,” Jahaan assured. But then, his mind darted back to the last time some out of the blue stranger requested his assistance. Fortunately, he remembered Wahisietel’s advice, and with all the conviction he could muster, he declared, “Okay, I’ll help you, but on one condition. You have to let me touch your forehead.”

Unsurprisingly, this didn’t go down too well with the monk. “Come again?”

“I want to touch your forehead.”

“But… but why?”

“You don’t get to ask questions,” Jahaan maintained, standing firm. “It’s that or I walk.”

“...”

“...”

“O-Okay, fine!” Brother Samuel caved, awkwardly leaning forward. Like it was the most natural thing in the world - despite feeling desperately embarrassed internally - Jahaan reached out and placed two fingers between the man’s eyes, sighing with relief when he noted the normal temperature.

“Thank you,” Jahaan straightened his shoulders, trying to recollect his dignity and forget that ever happened. “Where should we start?”

Brother Samuel suggested, “I think it would be best to start by searching for clues that point to the killer. You're bound to find something in the surrounding area. Y-you should check th-the... bodies, too. I need a moment to collect my thoughts…”

Brother Samuel walked away, giving Jahaan room enough to examine the crime scene unhindered by the monk’s quivering. The poor man looked ghastly. Perhaps it was his first corpse...

As Jahaan investigated the first corpse, he noted that the monk had been impaled with several small crystals. His arms were pale, like all the blood had drained from them, and there were scrapes on his knees, as if he was kneeling before being killed.

There was a faint murmuring coming from the floating essence above the body. Leaning in closely, Jahaan could hear the tortured words, “Bound… shackled… free me... mercy! Oh Saradomin, mercy…”

Another slaughtered monk had arms that were splattered with blood, but didn’t seem to be wounded. Instead, his heart had been pierced by a sharp blade with pinpoint accuracy.

With this soul, Jahaan could only make out the words ‘Saradomin’ and ‘light’ amidst the garbled mumbling.

The last corpse had wrists and hands covered in blood, like he was desperately trying to hold his wound closed. There was only one clean wound to his heart - the work of a skilled assassin.

This soul cried out louder than the others, though its words were broken up by agonised wails. “It was… the masked face… trapped me… release me, Saradomin…”

Masked face? This did not bring joy to Jahaan’s heart; instead, a weighted sinking feeling engulfed him. Still, he had more of the crime scene to investigate.

The nearby tree caught his eye next, and arrow protruding from the split bark. Pulling it out, Jahaan examined in closely, noting its fine craftsmanship and sharp crystal tip unlike any he’d ever handled before. Then, in his peripheral vision, a shiny silver ring glimmered in the sunlight. When Jahaan picked it up, he saw it was engraved with a dialect he could not decipher, but recognised as elven.

Making his way back to Brother Samuel, who was caught in the middle of hurried prayers, sorrowful eyes staring into the sky, Jahaan called out, “Brother Samuel, I’ve had a look around. Check this out.”

Handing over the ring and arrow, Brother Samuel squinted, examining the two very closely, like he was studying a museum artifact. “Strange. Most peculiar. It could have been an elf who did this, as the ring and arrow seem to be elven craft. I just can't remember - it was all over so quickly…”

“It must be horrible, but try to focus,” Jahaan softly encouraged.

“I'm sorry. I have seen much in my many years, but I never thought to stare evil in the face as I have done today. Let me think. My only knowledge of the elves comes from tales and legends I was told as a child. I vaguely remember the tale of their goddess, Seren. She was ridden with guilt, and shattered herself into thousands of crystals to always be with her followers. But she was supposed to believe the different races could live in peace. Why would an elf want to do this to us?”

Jahaan shook his head. “It doesn’t make much sense…” he bit his tongue, deliberating internally whether to share the ‘masked face’ observation with Brother Samuel. It could have just been a coincidence, a throwaway remark from a tortured soul...

Tearing up, Brother Samuel exclaimed, “I just want to know why! Why would someone do something so horrific to innocent monks? We’re pacifists! And their souls… why can’t they leave their bodies? Why can’t they be liberated into Saradomin’s embrace?”

“I believe I may be of some help, mortals…”

The voice came from all around them, and simultaneously nowhere at all. But there was something about the voice that Jahaan recognised, and his heart warmed at the comforting familiarity in amongst all of this horror. “Icthlarin, is that you?”

“Yes, it is I. Do not be alarmed. My arrival on the surface world is imminent…”

Brother Samuel didn’t seem to calm down, especially since the ground started rumbling.

A crack in the ground appeared beside them, growing rapidly, tearing the earth apart. From it, glorious white light shone from the depths, so bright that Brother Samuel land Jahaan had to cover their eyes. Once the light subsided and the earth had healed, the two uncovered their eyes and saw that Icthlarin had arrived.

The canine deity stood at just under six feet tall, muscled and imposing, with sharp teeth that could cut through steel. Majestic turquoise and golden robes were draped over his shoulders and around his waist, light and infrequent enough to be suited to the desert climate. His shins and wrists were armoured in guards of the same colour, and atop his head was a two-pronged crown that couldn’t help but look like large ears. In his left hand was a long staff with what seemed to be a goblet atop; from it, green energy seeped constantly into the air.

With a warm smile, Jahaan cheered, “It’s good to see you again, Icthlarin. How’s Amascut? Any news?”

Sighing heavily, Icthlarin regretfully informed, “I am afraid my sister’s madness has not subsided. She still summons creatures to devour the souls that I strive to protect. But I have not lost hope, my friend. Neither should you.”

“Excuse me, who are you?” Brother Samuel piped up, his voice cracking slightly.

Turning to Brother Samuel, Icthlarin addressed, “Forgive my rudeness, mortal. I have yet to properly introduce myself. My name is Icthlarin, God of the Underworld.”

Now, Brother Samuel’s fear transitioned swiftly into confusion. “Umm… no, not ringing any bells.”

“Ic...Icthlarin… I guide souls to the Underworld...? I am part of the Menaphite Pantheon...?”

Brother Samuel shook his head. “No, nothing I’m afraid. Are you a new god or something?”

Icthlarin’s embarrassment turned to a mild form of indignation, though he did well to compose himself. “No, I am not a ‘new god’. I was on this planet long before your deity!”

“Then how come I’ve never heard of you?”

“I-!” clenching his first, Icthlarin took a long, deep breath, trying to shuffle off the urge to shout the priest down. “We do not have time for this. World Guardian,” he turned to Jahaan. “I had sensed many dead here, souls that passed at the hands of another.”

“Yeah, but why are they like… this?” Jahaan emphasised, pointing to a tortured soul, struggling to shuffle off its mortal coil.

“That I can shed some light to,” the deity informed, “The reaper of souls, whom you know as ‘Death’, has gone missing. Without his scythe, there is nothing to sever the tie between souls and their physical shells. Their souls are in limbo, shackled to these lifeless husks. I have travelled across all of Gielinor bearing witness to the same thing. I cannot help them all.”

Gasping, Brother Samuel cried, “That’s awful! Is everyone who dies trapped now?”

“Only on the realm of Gielinor. Other realms are not governed by the same principles of mortality. Death does have fail safes in place, helpers that are able to use shards from his scythe to release souls, but they are unable to keep pace with the flow of souls. I am assisting by transporting the deceased to them. But I am tired, mortal - there is much that needs my attention. I have never known Death to neglect his duties - not once in thousands of years. There is something more sinister afoot.”

“Then we need to find Death,” Jahaan asserted. With a heavy sigh, he decided to confess his suspicions to the jackal-headed deity. “I’ve an idea as to who might be behind these killings and, by extent, Death’s disappearance.”

“Who, my friend?”

Jahaan’s shoulders sagged; wincing, he said, “I believe you’re familiar with the Mahjarrat Sliske?”

“Sliske…” Icthlarin shuddered at the name. “I am all-too familiar with that particular rapscallion. This business of torturing souls does seem to fit his modus operandi.”

“That, and one of the trapped souls mentioned a ‘masked face’. Brother Samuel also said something about the attacker’s way of teleporting, where the spell absorbed light instead of emitting it, like the spellcaster-”

“...was escaping to a darker rift or dimension,” Icthlarin finished, his heart heavy.

“Pardon me,” Brother Samuel cleared his throat. “Who is this Sliske character?”

“Sliske is a Zarosian Mahjarrat,” Icthlarin solemnly explained, “He and I have a tumultuous history. Once he fought with his brethren in my armies. Then, he betrayed me and turned the Mahjarrat’s allegiance to Zaros. I wonder if he is trying to garner my attention by taking Death captive?”

“If it is indeed Sliske, then it looks like he’s trying to pit the gods against one another,” Jahaan gravely added. “Seems like Sliske’s trying to make it look like elves butchered these Saradominist monks. The crystal tip arrows are a dead giveaway to Seren’s followers.”

“As I pointed out earlier,” Brother Samuel piped up, “Seren and Saradomin have always had a peaceful relationship. There would be no reason for her followers to perform such a heinous act.”

“I agree,” Icthlarin concurred, gripping tighter onto his powerful staff. “Something eludes us still. But what is clear is that he is setting in motion dangerous events, and we cannot let him continue. I would like to ask for your help, Jahaan. You have seen the evil at work here, and have first-hand experience in dealing with Sliske.”

Humbly, Jahaan replied, “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Thank you, my friend. Our highest priority is- wait... something is wrong.”

Icthlarin sniffed the air, his body going tense and rigid. “Prepare yourself, Jahaan. I sense the approach of the undead.”

Beneath them, the ground began to shiver and shake, eventually breaking away all together as six skeletons with flesh barely clutching onto their limbs arose from the dirt.

Drawing his two short swords, Jahaan crouched into a fighting stance. Beside him, Icthlarin’s staff glowed as he did the same. He made a motion with his hand, and then seemed very perplexed afterwards. Meanwhile, Brother Samuel cowered behind them.

Fortunately, the skeletons were just as brittle as they looked; Jahaan charged forward and slashed straight through the torso of one without breaking a sweat. Icthlarin’s staff made short work of another two, while Jahaan took out one with a decapitating strike.

The last two were felled with ease, and from the remains of one of them, a tiny box materialised.

Sheathing his weapon, a curious Jahaan picked up the box from in amongst the pile of bones. “Huh…” was all he said. It didn’t seem to have a keyhole, and when he tried to prise the lid open, it wouldn’t budge.

“Well fought, mortal,” Icthlarin praised, his staff returning to its regular state. “I am not accustomed to the undead withstanding my power.”

“Why did they withstand it?”

“Ordinarily I would dispatch tens of wights with a wave of my hand, but these… it seemed almost as though they were attuned to my power. Like something was protecting them,” his eye then caught the box Jahaan was holding. “What is that in your hand?”

As soon as he said that, murky grey smoke began to seep from the mysterious box, and in his shock, Jahaan dropped the box to the ground, stepping back in surprise. “Is it meant to do that?”

Gradually, the smoke began to take the shape of a mask, a typical theatre style accessory with a menacing grin plastered onto it. “Boo! Bet you didn’t see this coming.”

Icthlarin regarded to mask with apprehension. “What in the Underworld are you, creature?”

“For starters, I am no creature. I’m just a little message - or, rather, an invitation - from my master. You have the honour of being invited to the greatest event in all six ages!”

“Speak clearly, mask,” Icthlarin demanded. “Who is your master? What event do you speak of?”

“Why, the grand ascension of Sliske, of course!” the mask exclaimed, his voice full of wicked laughter.

Jahaan crinkled his brow. “Sliske’s ascension?”

Icthlarin’s shoulders sagged. “In light of recent events, the bastard must now believe he is worthy of godhood. But the treacherous snake must be mad to think I’d respond to such an invitation…” the words caught in his throat like bile.

The Mask sighed. “Poor Icthlarin. So easily frustrated by a talking box. My master believed you might react this way, but in light of a certain someone’s disappearance, we thought you might be amenable to accepting our invitation...”

Icthlarin’s eyes grew wide. “You would have the audacity to kidnap Death himself?!”

“Calm down Icky. All you need to do to save your precious Death is open this box, and you will be transported to the Empyrean Citadel. Oh, and bring the World Guardian with you. I have a feeling he won’t want to miss this either. Now, come along. My master won’t wait forever…”

With that, the smoke dissipated, and the box returned to its mundane appearance.

“The situation is apparent now,” Icthlarin’s tone was grave. “Sliske's plan is as evil and manipulative as I have come to expect from him. With Death gone, Sliske knew I would come to the surface world to deal with the trapped souls. After killing the people you see here, he predicted my arrival and left his wights to ambush me. But they were just a show of his power. The real purpose was to deliver his invitation. Kidnapping Death leaves me no choice but to attend his ascension.”

Jahaan added, “I bet he’s hatching similar schemes to force the other gods into attendance.”

“Then the situation is more dire than I first believed. To what end, I do not know. But I must go to the Citadel and release Death. Still, I cannot bring myself to trust this box.”

“If there’s one thing you can trust, it’s that you can’t trust Sliske,” Jahaan parroted Wahisietel’s wise words from the Ritual Site, biting the inside of his cheek.

“E-Excuse me…” Brother Samuel meekly raised his hand, hunched over slightly. “B-But if you do not get Death to return, does that mean my brothers will never be free?”

“Your brothers will be free,” Icthlarin assured. “I will transport them to Death’s Mansion myself. Death’s helpers are there. They will release the trapped souls from their bodies. However, if we do not find and release Death from his captor, things will never go back to normal.”

With a wave of his arm, and a low bow of his head, Icthlarin caused the bodies faded away.

Straightening his stance, Icthlarin declared. “I must go to the Citadel. It appears Sliske requests your company as well. Will you attend alongside me, World Guardian? I need an ally, and am not sure who, or what, I shall encounter upon my arrival.”

Jahaan’s stern expression allowed a wry smile to creep through. “For you? Wouldn’t miss it.”

Picking up the box again, Jahaan and Icthlarin took a good few strides away from Brother Samuel - just in case he was caught in the teleportation spell due to his close proximity - and this time, Jahaan managed to open the lid. Light attacked them, rendering their vision blank and white, but they could feel movement. Unsteady, directionless movement, but movement nonetheless.

When Jahaan managed to open his eyes, he was inside the Empyrean Citadel.

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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[ma-lemons]

citrus 🍊

so I just wanna give Muriel all my uwus. He’s so cute, when he gets shy or when he’s defensive. This takes place before Asra sees the OC in Muriel’s hut.

(by the way, my apprentice’s name is Aisha, which is somehow Asra’s mother’s name)

. Read the tags, sometimes I say stuff there :)

———————————————————

Muriel stared at Aisha, who had resorted to petting Inanna after he rejected her offer to help heal him.

Muriel didn’t live near people, but when he went to town, he glanced over everyone, and continued on his way. People would take notice of his strange attire and hulking figure, but as soon as they passed him by, he had slipped their minds. He was just a memory forgotten.

Aisha’s skin was a warm brown color, like cinnamon, her dark hair, like a lion’s mane. She seemed innocent enough, and she was Asra’s apprentice... but he could never be too sure. She wasn’t the same Aisha from before.

A sharp pain shot through his chest, and he let out a small hiss. Placing his hand on his chest, he attempted to stop the blood, if only momentarily. He was about to stand up to grab a cloth when Aisha left Inanna’s side and marched up to him.

She got down to her knees, her face unreadable. A blush crept onto Muriel’s face as he realized how close the apprentice was to him. She smelled of citrus. It seemed to suit her. Muriel tried to scoot away, but found his back touching the wall of his hut.

Aisha pouted, her bottom lip sticking out. Muriel’s lips quirked up a bit, but he got ahold of himself before revealing his amusement.

“Muriel... you’re clearly in pain... let me help you,” Aisha begged, her dark eyes pleading. She was staring him down, and Muriel felt his body heating up. He was getting weaker. He avoided her gaze and directed it towards his wolf.

“I don’t need your help,” his gruff voice came. He refused to let Aisha help him. If anyone, he would wait and see if Asra would come to his aid.

Aisha’s eyes flashed and she lunged forward at him. Before he could move away, she placed her small hands over his body, one on his chest, and one next to his injured eye.

Aisha could feel his heartbeat. It was rapidly beating, as if Muriel was nervous. She was unaware that she was the one who was causing this.

“Please... get away from me,” Muriel pleaded with her. Aisha sighed and scooted back. Without another word, she stood up and grabbed a rag from the table, and soaked it in water. She came back towards Muriel, and gently wiped away the blood.

Muriel grimaced in pain. The blood kept coming, but Aisha kept insisting she could clean it. She dabbed at the gash in his forehead. The cool rag was a relief to him, but the pain was still there.

“There’s no use, the blood won’t stop coming,” Muriel muttered. Aisha sighed and tossed the bloody rag away. Her hands were stained with red, and Muriel felt guilty. The apprentice looked at him and placed her hands on Muriel’s forehead and chest again.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Aisha stayed quiet, and recited indecipherable words. Muriel’s injuries were deep and it was going to take a while for them to completely heal.

Frankly, Muriel thought the situation was awkward. His head was settled upon the walls of the hut, but his body was sloping down. Aisha was hovered over him, her hands placed steadily on him. He wasn’t used to being touched like this... no one touched him at all. He tried to steady his heart, telling himself that after she healed him, he would kick her out.

Inanna seemed to howl, as if she had read his thoughts. Muriel looked her in the eyes.

She cares, the wolf seemed to say.

Muriel hissed from pain, his eyes flickering back to the soft glow emitting from Aisha’s magic. She quickly apologized, her face flushed. Her face was an interesting sort. It wasn’t a marvel, but a kind of beauty that drew you in. It was a fierce, but delicate look she had.

The man closed his eyes to avoid looking at her directly. The pain was slowly fading away, but occasionally, it hurt enough to grant him a yelp.

A little while later, Aisha had finished, and had washed her hands. His skin looked dewy and all that was left behind was some scars. She was good at what she did.

“Thank you,” Muriel muttered, his head turned to the side.

“You’re welcome.”

It was quiet now. Muriel supposed it was time to allow her to leave. He glanced at Aisha as she let out a loud yawn and rubbed her eyes.

“I’m so sleepy,” she murmured. Muriel noticed how her head hung, and her curls would fall over her face. His lips quirked up again. She must’ve been really tired. He couldn’t send her back, not now when she was sleepy and vulnerable. Lucio could easily attack her.

“You can fall asleep.”

Aisha’s head perked up, as if she hadn’t heard correctly. “What did you say?”

She was looking at him again. He avoided her gaze, before muttering, “you can sleep here if you want to. Then you can go.”

Inanna let out a howl, seemingly of pleasure, before coming around the table and sitting near him. Muriel petted her glossy coat before nodding at the apprentice magician. She was already far ahead of him. She had taken a spot near him, and was already dozing off.

It was so peculiar. Inanna had been looking for Asra to help him, and found Aisha instead. He never thought he’d see or talk to Aisha again, and he knew that when she woke up, she’d forget all about him.

Maybe it was for the best.

Muriel sighed and sat up where he was. He figured the apprentice would be hungry after waking up. It was the least he could do for her healing him. He stood up, and headed to the small kitchen, where he started to cook some eggs.

Inanna kept watch at the door, and Aisha slept soundly on the floor. Muriel felt kind of bad, thinking she was uncomfortable, but he was too shy to disturb her sleeping.

As the eggs were frying, he looked at her sleeping face. He had seen it a dozen times, but he found himself wanting to memorize it. Every line and crease and quirk of the face.

Shaking himself out of his daze, he spooned the eggs into plates and set them on the table. Now he’d have to wake her up. He had no choice, really.

He edged towards her, feeling uneasy. He crouched down next to her and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. The citrus scent filled his nose again. His heart thudded against his chest as he slowly rocked her. She shifted away from him, mumbling, “I don’t wanna go... I don’t wanna go...” She sounded frantic and Muriel wondered if she was having a nightmare.

“Wake up,” came his deep voice, shaking her again. Her arms stretched, and Muriel stood up and got out of the way. Any second now, the apprentice would be questioning her surroundings.

He sat back in a chair and watched as she raised her head and looked around, confused.

“Where... where am I? How did I get here... Asra? Asra?” she cried frantically. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on him. Her eyes widened. “Who are you? Why am I here? Do... do I know you?”

Maybe it would be for the best if she forgot you again, he thought to himself.

Inanna let out a yip and made her way towards the apprentice. The girl backed away, confused at the situation she was in.

“Please...who are you?” Aisha begged. She looked as if she was going to cry, but he didn’t want that. He wasn’t sure what he would do if she did.

Sighing, he stood up and went to his shelves. He took a satin pouch, one of emerald green, and handed it to her. She took it cautiously and looked inside.

“Myrrh? What will myrrh do...” she began. She blinked twice and shook her head.

“Muriel! Muriel! What happened to me?” she cried.

“You fell asleep and forgot about me.” Saying it pained him a little, even though that was the intention of the spell. Somehow, he didn’t want Aisha to forget him again.

“Why did I forget you?” He looked into her curious eyes, for the first time.

“It was a spell. People forget me after they fall asleep or pass me by. Myrrh helps to remember.”

A sad smile graced Aisha’s face. “Thank you. I wouldn’t want to forget you, Muriel. I’ll keep it on me wherever I go.”

Muriel’s face was warmer than usual. She had just admitted that she wanted to remember him! He wasn’t sure why, but it brought him some satisfaction.

“Uh... well, we have eggs. If you’re hungry.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh yes, please!” She pocketed the myrrh and went to the table.

Two plates were on the table, one on either side. Muriel sat down. Aisha looked at the chair and back at him. She then proceeded to drag the wooden chair to the other side, next to him, and plunked herself down.

“What are you doing?” Muriel growled. His green eyes held anger and confusion inside.

“I just think it’s kind of lonely on the other side,” Aisha smirked. Muriel lowered his eyes; was this some attempt at humor? Was she trying to make him laugh?

“If you want me to go back, I can,” Aisha teased. She started eating her eggs, a smile on her face. Muriel sneaked a glance at her. It couldn’t be too bad, could it?

He decided to stay silent.

“I’m taking that it’s alright if I stay here, then.”

Silence.

“You know Muriel, I’m glad I won’t have to forget you.”

Muriel’s heart stopped. He wasn’t sure why, but Aisha’s words touched him in some way.

He grunted and started to eat.

The two ate in silence, but Aisha swore that when she snuck a glance at Muriel, he was smiling.

Just a little bit.

—————————

yeah so the ending wasn’t that great. But I’m going to write more of these cause I’m really excited for Muriel’s route, and I can’t wait to learn more about him.

[darkdreamer253]

JayTim Week - Day 1: Magic AU

Title: How to Summon a Friend

Rating: Teen & Up

Fandom: Batman, DC

Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake

Warnings/Tags: Mild Language, Magic AU, Dark magic, Demons, Demon Summoning, Demon Deals

Summary: Tim Drake has never really fit in with people. He just wants a friend who will respect him. Jason Todd is a demon who just came to fuck shit up. He wasn't expecting to make friends instead. Neither of them got exactly what they wanted.

Notes: I'm super late, but I'm trying my best. I started writing this for JayTim week, but it quickly became much more. It's going to be multi chapter, but you'll have to check it out on AO3 if you want to follow the plot. I’m only posting chapter 1 here on Tumblr.

External Link: Archive of Our Own

“Jesus Christ, kid, are you fucking serious?” Jason is still trying to wrap his head around the whole thing. He was brought back to the land of mortals by a summoning spell, only to learn that his 'master’ doesn't need him to kill anyone or ask for anything. 'Just wanted a friend’ were the exact words that came from his mouth.

“You do realize that summoning a demon to make friends is just about the stupidest fucking thing you could do, right?”

The kid seemed to be aware now at least as he refused to look Jason in the eyes. “There's no one here who likes me. I just… I don't know, I thought it was a good idea at the time.”

Jason could see that. The kid was short and scrawny looking, hiding muscles that most kids his age wouldn't see. He looked like the bookish type, which probably didn't help. The room around him was full of books and electronics. Not exactly attracting the best attention, Jason couldn't help but think.

However, the kid didn't look that old. Jason's form he used for visits to the mortal realm probably didn't look that much older. This kid still had a whole life ahead of him, why would he summon a demon for something like making friends?

“Look, kid, I usually come here to fuck shit up, not make people like you. Yeah, I've done a few contracts where some scrawny nerd asks for muscles or some shit, but they have the dick personality to match and that changes their image. I can't just make people like you, changing emotions isn't something I can do.”

Jason shifted, now leaning against the barrier of the summoning circle. At least the kid knew what he was doing enough to add a barrier to the spell, so Jason couldn't leave until the contract was finished or the circle was broken.

The kid was silent for a good long while, which made Jason heave a sigh to break the silence. He pushed himself off the barrier before responding. “Look, kid, just act less nerdy and people will like you, that simple. Now, send me back where I came and get back to your life. Trust me, you don't want to go to Hell for this shit.”

“No, I--,” the kid cut himself off, suddenly seeming defensive,” I wasn't going to ask you to make people like me. I was going to ask if you would be my friend.”

Jason's eyes widened at that, not sure he heard the kid correctly before he continued. “I don't care if the people here like me. They're all assholes anyway, I just want someone who's not a stupid idiot like the rest of them.”

Jason broke into full-on laughter now. He hadn't laughed this hard in probably a century. “So your brilliant plan was to make friends with a fucking demon? That's so fucking dumb, kid. I'm gonna drag you to Hell for this. Is being my friend really worth your fucking soul?”

“It is to me.”

The answer made Jason go silent. Just staring, deciding whether or not this kid was really dumb enough to sell his soul to have a demon for a friend.

“Alright, you got my attention,” Jason shrugged a bit as he said,” You wanna give up your eternal soul for one friend, let's deal. What's your name? Full name, not that nickname or first name only bullshit. Contracts have to be full name.”

“Timothy Jackson Drake.”

“Nice name, kid,” Jason snorted at the slightly nerdy name to match the slightly nerdy kid,” Name's Jason.”

“And my name's bad?” Tim retorts, a bit of a chuckle. “Jason doesn't sound like the name of a demon.”

“It's not my real name, Timmy, just the one I use here in the mortal realm,” Jason teased him with the more childish name, getting an eye roll from the kid.

“Alright, let's get this party started.” Jason had a wicked grin as he spoke. He held his palm up and started chanting, another smaller spell circle formed on his hands, burned in by flames dancing across his skin.

When the burning stopped, he looked down at it and read aloud,” Details are I, Jason, promise you, Tim... friendship unbroken... for a time of 15 years or until voided by you... for the price of your eternal soul. Sound about right?”

Jason had trailed off a couple times and hadn't explained in great detail, but Tim didn't look completely lost and he considered that good enough.

“It doesn't sound wrong,” Tim sounded a bit unsure, but he didn't look like he was going to back down.

“Then all that's left is to finalize this shit,” Jason held his hand out towards Tim,” Our palms have to meet and then we're done.”

Tim hesitated, looking at the hand as though it could kill him, eyeing Jason with it.

“Can't hurt while I'm inside the barrier,” Jason assured him,” And once the contract is finalized and the barrier's down, the contract will keep me from killing you.”

There was another moment before Tim grabbed Jason's hand, letting the skin on their palms touch. He winced as the symbols burned into his own hand and the summoning circle under Jason disappeared. Jason put an arm around Tim's shoulder.

“Looks like we're partners in crime now,” The demon smiled wickedly next to his new friend.

[mshellbrat]

                                              banner by: Arienhod

Hey guys! Sorry for the wait but life is super super busy and stressful right now. This is the second chapter of my second story in the “Anything” verse...my Olicity Arrow/BTVS xover verse. I hope you like it and I would love to know what you think! I’m also feeling completely scatterbrained so please excuse any typos...lol. 

Also, if you would like to be tagged when I post new work please let me know!

Chapter Summary:  The tour of the Slayer Headquarters continues and Felicity faces her first challenge from her slayer sisters.

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!...except my original characters... :-)

Here goes!

The situation was somewhat awkward. It was a first meeting and she'd brought along two notorious American celebrities. Besides, she was Felicity and she was awkward on a good day. This was before you added in the bonus of her half-vampire cousin. Then Meredith actually arrived and was forced to endure their questioning and vetting process and then there was 'The Shirt'. Meredith was never going to stop whining.

“WHY must I wear this?” Meredith continued to grumble even though the rest of the group had taken to outright ignoring her now. She yanked at 'The Shirt' she was being forced to wear. It was a bright red t-shirt with the words 'DO NOT SLAY' written on both front and back in bold white print. Meredith was not amused. “I'm a geek, you know? I get the reference. I'm not wearing the red shirt!”

Oliver, damn him, smirked at her. “Actually you are.”

Felicity elbowed him in the side and threw her cousin a pleading look. “They don't know you, Mere. You are in a building stuffed full of slayers. Can you just try to be patient?”

Meredith glared back at her.

“New slayers are called on a regular basis,” Rona explained. “Willow's spell is still active. We're not sure the exact catalyst, but once potentials reach a certain point the spell activates their potential and they become slayers. We've had newbies as young as eleven in the past. Our current youngest is Aline. She's a twelve-year-old from Brazil.”

Felicity took this all in and nodded. She wondered again what made her so deficient that the spell waited until she was twenty-three. She felt Oliver's hand curl around her waist and realized he must have noticed something change in her expression. The man knew her too flipping well.

“The majority of them are quickly located via the Witches' Council and shipped here for basic training and instruction.” Her expression when she faced Meredith was serious. “But these are still very young girls who have supernatural abilities and instincts. Those instincts will tell them that you are the enemy. That shirt is to keep you from getting jumped by the baby slayers. The distinction between Possessed and Traditional, as well as between full-vampire and half-vampire, is still beyond most of these girls.”

Felicity frowned. “But I'm a baby slayer, right? I've only been called a couple of weeks. I wouldn't have attacked Meredith even if she wasn't my cousin.”

“You're also a mature rational grown woman,” Rona stared at her in disbelief. “You're not a pre-teen who just got turned into Supergirl and thinks she can blindly follows her instincts.”

“And your training has been unorthodox,” Riley added. “Your mentors are Pures. A dear friend turned out to be a witch. A half-vampire is your cousin. You've been exposed to things these girls have not.”

“They've been sheltered,” Rona agreed. “We don't even consider placement on one of our field slayer teams until a girl has reached sixteen-years-old. They're only exposed to the supernatural under very controlled settings.”

Meredith huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine, I'll wear the damn shirt until they get use to me.” She pointed her finger at Rona. “But I'm not going anywhere. Felicity is my responsibility. And,” her lips curled, “I'm not afraid of a bunch of rabid pre-teen girls. I'm meaner than them.”

Felicity shuddered and made a pained face. “I remember you as a pre-teen girl and you were probably meaner than them back then.” If the slayer remembered correctly, there'd been an incident with Meredith's friend group, some poor boy, and them doing a song and dance of “Bye Bye Bye” by NSYNC in the school hallway that led to her cousin almost getting expelled.

Meredith grinned. “Exactly.”

Choosing to ignore that, Rona pushed open the door to a massive and impressive training room. Felicity would have been gaping...except honestly the one under The Bronze was pretty impressive too. Her expectations were set somewhat high by this point. Still, it definitely beat their training equipment at the lair so that was something.

“Wow,” Thea muttered. Thea, who had not as yet seen the facilities under The Bronze.

Felicity nodded and smiled and tried to look really impressed. Oliver looked pissy. She could practically feel him thinking about upgrades he could make to the lair. She squeezed his hand where it was still wrapped around her waist to distract him and then noticed something. “OH! Salmon Ladder!” She hopped excitedly and pointed it out to Oliver. That made him crack a smile which was totally worth the embarrassment of everyone else looking at her like she was a little special.

“You do realize you are perfectly capable of doing the salmon ladder yourself now, right?” Oliver leaned close and spoke next to her ear.

Felicity rolled her eyes. “Not nearly as much as fun. I prefer the spectator role on that one.”

She could feel his breath on her skin when he spoke again. “Maybe I want to watch you do it.”

The slayer snorted. “You just want to watch me bust my ass.” She turned to look at him and noticed the heat in his stare. She gulped. “Or...you know...not?” And then he grinned...and Felicity bit her lip nervously because he was not supposed to look at her like that...or at least not in public! Bad Oliver!

“Could you two stop it?” Thea drawled and made a face. “I'd like to keep down my lunch.”

“Preach,” Meredith agreed.

Felicity pursed her lips and turned determinedly back toward the front. “There is nothing to stop.” She lifted her brows and looked to Rona. “Can we continue the wonderful tour?”

Rona was frowning at Oliver. She dragged her gaze back to Felicity. “The Bitchettes are gonna hate you. Hell, I've already got a hot boyfriend and I almost hate you.”

Felicity frowned confused. “Huh?”

“I refuse to hate you,” Macey told her happily. “Because I'm nice and you're CUTE!” She leaned closer to Felicity and lowered her voice. “I'm totally gonna drool over the man candy though.”

Felicity just nodded and went with it. “Sure.”

Rona sighed and rolled her eyes. She waved around the room. “You obviously seem to have some idea of training equipment and layout. Not surprising when you've been training with Pures.”

“I wish I got to train with Pures,” Macey grumbled.

“Hand-to-hand, close combat weapons training,” Rona pointed out the different areas, “strength and endurance.” She paused and looked at Felicity to make sure the new slayer was keeping up.

Felicity forced a big smile and gave her a thumbs up. “It's not a big tire you can beat with a sledgehammer, but I guess it'll do.”

Thea snickered and Oliver poked her in the side.

Macey frowned. “Dare does that?” Then she tilted her head to the side and her eyes lit up with interest. “Does he do it shirtless?”

Felicity and Thea both snickered at Oliver's expense.

Rona glared at her blonde companion. “Macey, could you try looking less like a boy-crazed ditz? Focus!” Once the blonde huffed offended, Rona looked back to Felicity. “I've called some of the slayer captains in to meet you. Maria should be rounding them up now. Once we get the introductions out of the way, they can break it down to their teams so they know who not to slay,” she notched her chin toward Meredith, “and who not to climb like a tree,” she looked pointedly at Oliver.

“Slayer captains?” Felicity wondered.

“We split the girls into teams,” Rona explained. “Senior slayers are chosen to head up the teams and supervise and mentor their team members. We can't all just look to Buffy. We needed a functioning hierarchy and chain of command.”

“Will I be assigned to a team?” Felicity asked. She really didn't know if she wanted to be assigned to a team. Would she be getting ordered around by a teenager?

Rona grinned. “No, Felicity, you're here as a courtesy. You have a life back in Starling and we're not messing with that.”

“You might end up leading a team,” Macey pointed out. Felicity looked at her wide-eyed and Macey smiled like that was good news. “You're protecting an active hellmouth. When things start getting all hinky you're gonna need help. Buffy will probably assign you slayers.”

THAT did not sound good. THAT was not good news! Felicity gulped. “But...”

“There are two slayer teams in Edencrest,” Meredith added with a look at her cousin, “one run by Elise Stephens and the other run by some chick named Kennedy. But it is the biggest current active hellmouth. They need two teams. We don't.”

Rona looked Meredith over surprised. “You know slayers?”

Felicity waved that off because she didn't CARE about catching Rona up on Meredith's backstory. “I don't need slayers!” she insisted. “I have Dare and Cross and Meredith and Oliver and Thea and Roy and Case and Digg!”

Rona shrugged. “We'll see.” And that didn't sound nearly definitive enough for Felicity. The last thing she needed was super-powered teenage girls to start showing up on her doorstep and looking to HER to lead them!

“I've been a slayer less than two weeks!” She stomped her foot in a fit of pique.

Oliver pulled her back against his chest and rested his chin on her shoulder. He hugged her to him. “Felicity, breathe. We'll handle it.”

Felicity ground her teeth. “Fine! But if they start showing up, YOU get to lead the slayers. I'll swap you for Roy.”

Thea laughed out loud. “Can I tell him that? I'm pretty sure he'll be down.” She pulled out her phone and started to text her boyfriend. “He's still terrified you're gonna stick him with Team Lance. He'd rather face certain death every night than take orders from Laurel.”

Felicity's eyes narrowed. “Laurel does not get to give orders.”

Thea snorted. “Someone might want to remind her of that. She texted Roy what time he needed to be at the lair for a team meeting tonight. He threatened to go back to jacking cars to get enough money to buy himself a plane ticket to London. He says he's officially Team Supernatural.”

“He is,” Felicity said. “Roy goes where you go.”

Thea smiled at her affectionately. “There's a reason I like you.”

“Aww...” Macey leaned up against Rona and spoke softly, “they have their own little team. They have a Scooby Gang.”

Rona shook her head. “I don't even want to know.” She cleared her throat to regain everyone's attention. “If you'll follow me, we can wait for the slayer captains in the conference room.” She turned to lead them forward toward another exit.

The slayer captains were...an interesting lot. Some were sugary sweet and eyed them like they were lollipops (males and females), a few were openly hostile and obviously believed everything they'd ever read about Oliver and Thea, a couple were pleasant and interested, and the rest were outright bored and irritated at the waste of their precious time.

Felicity was exhausted just from meeting them all...and these were just the captains! She looked at Oliver feeling overwhelmed. She winced as she caught his expression. Oliver's unaffected and charming playboy mask was wearing thin. His eyes and mouth were tight. If they were back in Starling, Felicity would be worrying about the furniture and the training dummies.

“I think we broke him.”

Felicity looked across the table and into the eyes of one of the most hostile of the group. Lex, if she remembered correctly, was a seventeen-year-old slayer with short cropped sandy brown hair and thick-lashed brown doe eyes. Her features were, in fact, so delicate and feminine that even her boyish haircut couldn't distract from them. Unfortunately she was also as mean as a snake and she'd spent the last ten minutes sharpening her tongue on Oliver.

“Back off, Cujo,” Meredith finally growled at the teen from Felicity's other side. She leaned across the table toward the younger girl. “Ollie's trying to play nice and he's too much of a gentleman to call you out as the bitch that you are. I suffer no such conscience.”

The slayer blinked at her and shrugged. “I was only checking my facts.”

Meredith rolled her eyes. “You were throwing every dumbass stunt he's ever pulled up in his face. You don't know him from Jack. Keep your venom to yourself.” Then she realized what she'd said and made a pained face. “And now you've made me defend OLLIE!” She pointed her finger at the girl. “You are on my shit list!”

Thea glared at the girl from Oliver's side. “You do get that tabloids lie, right? Even if you did have the right to judge my brother, which you don't, half that shit isn't even true.”

Lex leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest unimpressed. “Maybe you're right. Maybe he isn't the waste of space the tabloids make him out to be.” Her eyes hardened. “But that sure as hell doesn't mean he belongs here.” She leaned back forward and seethed at them. “You think this is some game? That we're some tourist attraction you can come gawk at? Let's meet the super-teens and watch them do tricks? This shit is life or fucking death!” She slapped her hand down on the table. “This is the actual battle between good and evil. We are warriors for the forces of light and we are fighting to save the damn world! What the HELL business does some playboy celebrity have here?”

Felicity didn't know where it came from but she was on her feet and leaning across the table toward the younger girl before she could blink. There was a snarl on her lips. She slammed her own hands down and heard the table groan at the hit. “Oliver is here with ME! I don't know who lied and said YOU got a vote on who was and was not allowed in this facility, but I am here by personal invitation of your Slayer General and I could give a FUCK less how you feel about it.” She eyed the girl up and down and something in her roared and snarled to attack. “You think your life is hard? You think you know anything about Oliver and what he's lived through? You think you deserve any more respect than he does? Well, you need to get your facts straight, little girl, and grow the hell up!” She sniffed and looked down at her. “You DON'T impress me.”

The girl shrugged and sat back again but something in her expression looked...satisfied. The blanket of rage receded from before Felicity's eyes and her body tingled with awareness. Her eyes scanned the table and she realized she now had the attention of the entire room. She swallowed nervously...then narrowed her eyes back on Lex. Felicity wondered just how much of that had been genuine and how much was a test. Her face flushed with embarrassment. Great, now she was competing in a pissing contest with teenagers. Her life had reached a new low.

“Right then,” Rona spoke up and Felicity took the excuse to turn her attention to the senior slayer. The other woman was frowning down at the cell phone in her hand. “Our fearless leader says you should all head to training and pass the information on to your teams.” She looked pointedly at several of the captains. “Keep your girls in line. Visitors are to be treated with respect and any complaints can be brought to her.”

The captains all started to stand from their chairs and head for the door. One hung back and smiled toward Oliver. She had long bright blonde hair, cornflower blue eyes, and perfectly applied makeup. She spoke to Rona. “I could give the visitors a tour.”

Rona's expression was wry. “You planning to hit on Finn or the vampire, Laney? Cause everyone else in this group's already taken.” The girl made a face and Rona lifted her brows. “Get to training. No one's interested.”

After watching the blonde huff and leave, Felicity made her way around the table to stand by Rona. She cleared her throat. “I...uh...I should apologize for making a scene.”

Rona snorted and waved her off. “You're a slayer, Felicity. We only come in aggressive. If you don't demand respect around here, you usually won't get it.”

Felicity winced and nodded. “Right. I'm getting that.” She looked back briefly at Oliver. He was still tense, still obviously angry and uncomfortable, and she wanted to do something to alleviate that. She lowered her voice and spoke to Rona. “Is there any way you could show us the shooting range next? Oliver might need to blow off some steam.”

Rona's expression was sympathetic. “I'm sorry about Lex. She can be a hardass but she's a hell of a slayer.”

“I just wish she'd picked on me,” Felicity said. “Oliver already spends enough time beating himself up about his past. He doesn't need help.”

Rona looked like she would have said more, but Oliver stepped up to join them and she painted a smile across her face. “So...how about we check out our shooting range?” She led them to the door. “We've got some cool features that I think you'll enjoy.”

The shooting range was impressive. Of course, Felicity hadn't done much training with ranged weapons as of yet, but she was sure Dare would get around to them eventually if Oliver didn't beat him to it. Felicity could also feel the magic pulsing through the air. She listened vaguely as Rona explained some of the enchantments that their witch allies had placed on the room. No harm enchantments, self-returning arrows and ammunition, smart targets...it was a lot to take in. Still, that wasn't why she'd asked to see it.

She turned to look at Oliver with a grin. “You ready to try it out?” But she fell silent as she found his attention focused elsewhere, a frown on his face. “Oliver?”

He started and threw a small smile her way. Leaning over, he pressed a kiss her temple. “I'll be right back.” He walked forward down the range.

Felicity frowned after him. Even Rona stopped talking to watch him go. The senior slayer moved closer to Felicity and cocked her head to the side. “He okay?”

“Uh...” Felicity was about to shrug when she realized where he was headed. Oliver walked up behind a young girl, a young slayer, who was practicing her archery. The girl couldn't have been more than fourteen with long straight brown hair and awkward lanky limbs. Though she hit the target with every arrow, even Felicity could see that the girl's form was awful. Oliver shook his head as he watched her. Felicity grinned and nodded. “He's gonna be fine.”

“Layla's stubborn,” Rona said as she watched the girl loose another arrow. “She's determined to learn archery, but she missed the sign-up for the latest class. We told her we'd get her worked in as soon as we could, but she's got no patience.”

Felicity watched Oliver fondly as he started to step forward to draw the girl's attention. “She's fixing to get a lesson.” She started walking toward her boyfriend and the preteen.

Rona snorted as she followed her. “This should be interesting.”

Focusing in, Felicity heard Oliver clear his throat. “Move your feet closer together,” he told the girl, “your throwing your balance off.”

Layla lowered her bow for a moment and turned to glare at the stranger. Her face was painted with all the angst that only a preteen girl could carry off. She planted her free hand on her hip. “I hit the target.”

Oliver cocked a brow at her. “Doesn't mean you aren't doing it wrong.”

The girl seemed to consider that for a moment. She narrowed her eyes on the vigilante. “Are you a watcher? I don't recognize you.”

Oliver shook his head. “No, I'm here with my partner. She's a slayer.” He nodded toward Felicity.

The girl looked back briefly at their approaching group. When she settled on Rona her lips drew into a mutinous line. She tossed her hair and turned back to Oliver. “Well then why should I listen to you?” Layla asked.

Oliver huffed a laugh. “Because I may not be a watcher, but I am an archer. And you're never going to hit a moving target unless you correct your form.”

Layla seemed to consider that. Then staring up at Oliver in challenge, she held out her bow. “Prove it.”

Oliver's grin only grew as he took the bow and measured its weight in his hands. He pulled an arrow from the girl's quiver and drew it back to test the bow string. “This is a little small for me, but okay.”

“I swear to god,” Thea whispered to Felicity as she stepped up beside the slayer, “if he says she reminds him of me, I will figure out a way to set his ass on fire.”

Felicity chuckled because she knew the little girl did. Oliver couldn't help comparing little girls to his baby sister. He adored Thea. The younger Queen should just get over it.

Layla put both hands on her hips now and watched Oliver doubtfully. Her mouth fell open in awe as Oliver nailed dead center of the target before turning back to face her and holding back out the bow. “Your turn?”

The girl took the bow and eagerly spun back to face the target. This time when Oliver directed her to move her feet she quickly complied and looked for further instruction. He moved around behind her and helped guide her into the correct stance.

“I need to brush up on my archery skills,” Macey sighed.

Rona snorted and leaned toward Felicity. “You better hope all the other slayers don't hear your boy has actual skills. There'll be a line all the way out the door waiting for his personal instruction.”

Felicity grinned back at the other slayer. “You ain't see nothing yet. That was him being humble.”

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

[scummy-writes]

Aaaa hi, it says requests are open again! Before I request anything I really wanna say thatI absolutely LOVE your writing. Like it's so lovely and I genuinely enjoy all of your headcanons. Thank you very much ^^ As for the headcanon, this one might be a little weird? Could you please write a headcanon about the RFA finding out that Jumin has PTSD? If not, it's totally okay! Thank you for taking the time to read this. ~Blaine

Blaine. Blaine. *Puts hands on your shoulders* You are amazing for letting me write this out. I hope I can do this prompt a little justice. And if anyone needs this tagged, let me know? I'm not going to bring specifics into it, like how he got it. Not in this hc.

Also, if anyone is confused, I made this post here explaining my personal hc that I thought Jumin may have PTSD. Totally okay if you disagree with that. JUST as a warning, it does talk about abuse in that post, so I heavily suggest not clicking that if it has the potential to upset you.

Jaehee

- She would be one of the first ones to find out. Due to her keeping track of his schedule more often than he did, she would have to remind him of the meetings he had her jot down. No names, no explaination. Just that he had a meeting with someone at one.

- The first time he had her jot it down,she didn't think to ask much about it. Sometimes he forgot names, and there really was no way of telling how his exact thought process worked.

- But they started becoming frequent. Weekly, even, instead of monthly, and she starting getting concerned when he dodged all questions about it.

- One day she guised her question to be work related. And honestly, in some ways it was. In order to fully make his schedule correctly, she needed names. It wouldn't be good for him to accidentally schedule two meetings at the same timeslot, mistaking the 'Meeting @ 1pm' to be with a different business client.

- And partly...she was worried he might be risking some reputation. She knew he was smart, but with how easily he fell for some of Seven's antics...

- Finally, though, with enough pestering, she finally got it out of him. He game her a name, explained it was a doctor, and refused to answer any other questions.

- Rarely, very rarely, he used a voice that was much more than his normal 'stern' tone. She could count on one hand all the times he had used it with her, or even with anyone in general,but when she tried to press futher and he answered with that rare tone, she finally backed down. Swallowed her worries until she got off of work.

- But right after her shift, as she looked up the doctor's name, finding out he wasn't just a simple 'doctor', seeing what he specialized in. She just felt guilt wash over her.

- She refrained from any more questions. Tried to hide her slight annoyance when he cleared his schedule after meeting with the doctor, ignored how tired he sounded. How drained.

- She didn't know what caused it, and never wanted to try and pry at what did. The least she could do was try to be a bit more understanding, maybe stop fussing about a certain project or two, but... He probably would want her to treat him like usual, right?

- God. She hoped he was doing okay.

Seven

- Jaehee accidentally let it slip that Jumin was seeing a doctor. For reasons she was unsure about, since he never said. 

- So of course, of cooourse, Seven wasn’t just going to ignore the chance to snoop around a bit?

- Granted, he was mainly doing it to make sure that Jumin wasn’t hiding that he had cancer, or something life-threatening like that. He knew Jumin had grown up close with V, and privately hoped the man didn’t share his habit of hiding his health.

- Regardless, even with how rich Jumin was, hacking into his bank statements was easy. Trailing cards numbers, amounts, names. Super easy, hardly any effort wasted.

-But he felt his heart slowly inch towards his stomach as he found the doctor's name. Found what he specialized in, and that Jumin wasn't actually going to your normal doctor.

- It was hard, admittedly, to not look into the doctor's files on Jumin. Especially since he was literally a few keys away on possibly finding out why Jumin may have a few quirks. Quirks that the RFA loved him for, but also teased about.

- But if he did, he wouldn't ever get the guilt to wash away. He'd never be able to look at him, not until he came clean.

- He wanted to know. Wanted to know each reason, wanted to see if his skills could somehow make Jumin feel better, but he only worked with computers. Not people.

- That was the furthest he dug into the issue. If the subject was brought up in the chat, he tried slipping the convo into teasing Yoosung about something, or just...anything distracting.

- Jumin would tell them if it became relevant, he knew that much. Just hopefully he would learn to speak up if he needed help.

- 

Zen

- Ultimately, it's Seven who tells him. Of all the people. He called him during a heated bickering session with Jumin. He wasn't even aware he was in the chatroom watching them,but when Seven kept trying to find a good way to word something, he cooled off pretty quickly.

- It's awkward at first, since his main reasoning for calling is to try and get Zen to drop the subject of Jumin's health, which...Zen is confused as to why being concerned over another members health is a bad thing. So, Seven tried to explain, stumbling a bit over his words.

- After Seven admits he hacked into Jumin's bank statements and such (Zen immediately getting ready to explain why the fuck that was a stupid thing to do in the first place), Seven explains what kind of doctor Jumin is seeing. And...Zen shuts up. In fact, he's quiet for a solid minute before asking what he would be seeing him for.

- And once he hears it, he has to ask Seven to repeat it, and then they're both quiet. Just silently on the phone, wondering what the fuck happened to their cat mom of a friend.

- After they get on the phone, Zen pops back into the chat and ends the argument. In private, he sends a text to Jumin, making some bs excuse about work being difficult. And, awkwardly, tries to suggest having a beer with him. Just to talk. Catch up,talk about life, since Jumin isn't in the chat often.

- He doesn't let it get to him when Jumin declines (No free time to even do so), but he feels a bit relieved that Jumin agrees to at least trying to do so sometime.

- They may argue, but if Jumin is dealing with something heavy on his own, then he's going to at least try to listen. Even if he can't give the best advice.

Yoosung

-He doesn't find out until Jumin announces it in the chat one day, claiming to know that Seven must have found out and told everyone, since everyone is treating him vastly different.

- Per Yoosung's prompting, he explains he doesn't have anything physical to worry about- No blindness, no cancer, nothing like that. Just a mental issue, something he's trying to learn more about each session.

- And honestly...Yoosung didn't know what PTSD was at first. He was confused, and Jumin spelling out the full name didn't help. Seven eventually had to link him an article in a text, and he felt so sick reading it.

- All the possibilities of Jumin having it...All the implications. They were so horrible! He ended up staying up for a while that night, trying to calm himself down from imagining all the different types of pain his friend could have gone through.

- He never thought Jumin could have something like this. He was born with a silver spoon- Most of his problems were things Yoosung wished he could worry about! Realizing that Jumin possibly hurt some days, more than others, just made him feel an immense guilt for even lightly teasing him at times.

- The next day, exhausted with trying to come up with ways to help out, ways to show he cared, he carefully brought the topic back up in the chat.

- He explained that he knew he was just a kid to Jumin, knew he wasn't as well put together as he was, but if there was any way he could help, just to let him know. Even if it was just listening to him, Yoosung would do it. He could even call super late at night, since he gamed until four in the morning!

- Jumin was surprisingly a little nice about Yoosung flooding the chat with his worries for him. He explained that, for now, he just wanted everyone to treat him normally, since the chat had developed a weird tension ever since they all found out. But...He was going to take the offers they made,if the need ever arose.

- Even though it was a small thing, the only thing Yoosung could really offer, he was glad it seemed to be helpful.

- In the meantime, he was going to find some cute cat pictures to save for when Jumin was feeling a bit down. It was small, but at least it would show that he cared for him, and he knew Jumin would understand that.