#i searched far and wide for that white dress and I am devasted that I couldn’t find *any* pictures of her wearing a red dress?

[eeblouissant]

IDK how to attach links or pics but looking at the dress style you use for your Dorothy you must look at Bea's dresses for awards ceremonies (there's a deep red one that's just,,,,) and the one she wore for her special (the leg slit!!!!).

hi anon, I think about the dresses (and SUITS… oh dear lord) that Bea has worn to different events Regularly. Have some Dorothy’s wearing various dresses that bea has worn that I adore :)

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Geralt and the Minotaur p3

Y’all this could get hella complicated if I go hard with all the character sub ideas and all that but I’m here for the relationship so its gonna be bare bones on combining the canon bc I’m just not that skilled as a writer 😂 

Pairing : Geraskier

Warnings: talk of human sacrifice, talk of cannibalism, ye ole impending death, mention parents death, imprisonment, public humiliation (kinda), we got major soft boys falling for each other vibes too

part 2 here!

__________

Geralt woke with his head still resting on Jaskier’s thigh, though he was now lying on his side, resting his head against Geralt’s hip just above the dagger tucked in his belt. He had draped his arm over Jaskier’s waist as they slept, holding him closer, and Jaskier’s arm was resting on Geralt’s chest. It was still dark and, from the sounds of it, everyone else was still asleep save a few soldiers at the helm. The waves had settled to a gentle lapping at the hull and Geralt found himself completely relaxed and at peace for the first time in weeks. His hand rose and fell in a gentle rhythm with Jaskier’s breathing and every now and then the blue eyed boy would sigh, bringing a soft sleepy smile to Geralt’s face. He didn’t dare move, lest he break the spell, but someone else woke from a nightmare with a scream that shattered his illusion. 

Jaskier hummed and nuzzled into Geralt’s hip before he was fully awake, making the prince blush furiously and gasp. Sure he’d fallen asleep with friends and romantic interests back home, but that sensation was… different. 

“Is it morning?” Jaskier mumbled, not moving to sit, but at least the nuzzling had stopped. 

“Probably,” Geralt answered, resisting the urge to run his hand over Jaskier’s shoulder, “still early.”

“You haven’t been lying awake all this time have you?”

Geralt forced a breath out his nose in amusement, “Only a few minutes or so.”

Jaskier sat up, laying his arm over Geralt’s, keeping it wrapped around his waist as he moved to be able to inspect the young hero’s face, “You still look… weary.”

Geralt frowned, shifting so he was leaning on his elbow over the boy’s legs, still very much resting on him, “I wonder why?”

Jaskier smirked, “Is it true you’re a child of Poseidon? Why not sink the ship and we can all ride horses made of sea foam back to the mainland?”

Geralt cast his eyes down to the deck, “They’d just come back for more. It doesn’t matter who’s son I am or what favor I do or don't have.” 

"Pull the weed at the root." Jaskier nodded. 

Geralt hummed in agreement, sitting all the way up to lean against the mast next to the brunette, "What about your family? Anything exciting waiting for you at home?"

Jaskier hooked his arm around Geralt's and rested his head on his shoulder, "Doesn't matter." 

"Does to me." Geralt mumbled, a little taken aback by the physical affection. When Jaskier rolled his eyes he laid his hand over his knee, "Humor me." 

They sat and waited for the sun to rise over the water as they discussed Jaskier’s life. His parents death, the farm he worked for his uncle, the mundane little things like how often he gets sent to the market and who cuts his hair. They learned each other's birthdays as a joke, but the hopeful side of Geralt still repeated it to him a few minutes later just to be safe. Jaskier asked him about life at the palace, if it was as grand as everyone believed. Geralt felt squeamish admitting he didn’t know, seeing as he'd only really lived in the lap of luxury. Sure his trek to Athens was dirty and many nights he slept in barns, but most of his 20 years were spent in bright white togas and tunics with colorfully stitched hems. Jaskier didn’t seem bothered, he just asked more specific questions about the beds and the fountains. He pontificated for a while on the poor musical choices made in a performance at the amphitheater last summer and did his best to explain to Geralt how to delicately pluck a harp using a lock of his white hair as a prop. Joking was easy, being earnest wasn’t quite effortless, but it was easier than with other people, and Geralt lamented that they’d only met yesterday. 

“Do you think you’d’ve given me the time of day?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt grinned, giving the brunet's leg another squeeze, “You wouldn’t have given me a choice.”

Jaskier rested his chin on Geralt's shoulder, his hair fluttering into his eyes and glowing gold as the sun began to peek over the waves, "Probably not, no." His voice was soft in Geralt's ear, the warmth of his breath made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. 

Geralt turned to look at him, their noses brushing. He was about to ask Jaskier something reckless and naive, no doubt born of desperation, but the moment was broken by shouting. 

"LAND" Echoed from various soldiers and strangled sobs broke out in response. Reality was once again stubbornly planted in the forefront of Geralt's mind and he forced himself to pull away. His heart beat furiously in his chest as he stood to get a better look. 

Someone gripped his elbow and spun him around, staring up at him with wide eyes full of terror, "You can do it, can't you? You can get us home?" The harsh whisper seemed to carry over the whole group, commanding their silence and attention as they formed a circle around him. 

Vessimir's parting words echoed in his head, he was a leader now, he had to act like it. His year of lessons and training and taking notes were over and he knew right then that even if they made it back, he'd never have a day of peace again. 

With a glance back toward Jaskier he nodded, "I will bring us home or die trying." 

The person's grip on his elbow tightened and he stared back at them with what he hoped was reassuring confidence for a moment before they released him, "Do you have a plan?" 

All his preparation could never have braced him for the absolute devastation on the group's faces when he hesitated. In the fraction of a second he took to open his mouth they knew. Only Jaskier seemed to accept the facts and take them in stride. 

"All I know for sure is that we need to make it out and back to the docks by dawn." Geralt's admission was met with curt nods from some and fresh tears from others, "I'm sorry." 

Jaskier pipped up, stepping into the center of the small crowd with Geralt, "You volunteered to try to save us. We need no apology." He sent a glare to someone about to speak in protest, cutting them off, "It's more than we've had in the last 18 years and I, for one, am grateful." 

Geralt gave him an appreciative nod but their theatrics were drawing attention from the soldiers. He shooed everyone away, not sure he could handle another altercation this close to the soldiers homeland where they'd have something to prove to onlookers.  

As they drew nearer to the shore they heard shouts of laughter and music, saw banners waving in the wind and people dancing around the port. They were throwing a festival. A festival of revenge and dominance over their enemies, where people who would have been sacrifices delighted in the activities. It made Geralt's stomach churn. 

Jaskier stood next to him as close to the bow as they were allowed, "Twisted, isn't it? And they wonder how we so readily believe they eat their brethren." 

Geralt took his hand, searching for anything to ground him as the fear crept up his neck and threatened to strangle him, "Monsters never think they're monsters." 

"You like being cryptic don't you?" Jaskier sighed, keeping his eyes forward as the festivities grew clearer and clearer. 

Geralt only shrugged in response. 

Soon enough they were all corralled by the soldiers with shouts and shoves. They tied Geralt's hands first, yanking on the rope so it burned into his wrists. The man was watching his face, waiting to see him wince or twitch. He gave them nothing. The end of the rope was then tied to Jaskier and so on until they were all lined up, hands bound in front of them and linked like sausages. 

When they docked there was a heavy drum roll, fitting for the captives in line behind Geralt trembling. The plank was lowered by soldiers in what had to be ceremonial dress and when they stepped back the drummers hit one last beat, leaving the whole crowd silent. 

At the front, surrounded by soldiers and standing on a throne made to be carried, was King Minos. His eyes were cold and calculating, and it was clear he was declining in health, but he still invoked fear with his gaze. There was no doubt to any rumors anymore. Geralt was sure this man was capable of absolutely anything. 

The Queen sat in a similar throne, next to them was their daughter, walking but flanked by guards. She didn’t take her eyes off Geralt as they prodded him down the plank. Her eyes were soft, betraying the rest of her face set in a hard mask of disapproval, and she made no effort to hide her ogling. Geralt stared right back, never one to back down from a challenge, until they were ushered past the royals into the crowd. The citizens were far more animated. Some threw food scraps at them, some jeered and gestured rudely, others spat, though they all blamed the 14 young men and women before them for the death of a prince before they were even born. 

They marched through winding streets and up set after set of switchback stairs to reach the palace dungeons. The guards were having their fun with Geralt in the lead, shoving him around when they needed to change direction and tripping him when they passed a large crowd. 

When they finally reached their cells they were shoved in, two to a cell, and the rope was cut. They had to hold their arms through the bars for the soldiers to cut the knotts. They took the rope with them when they left, leaving only bread and water on the bed and one torch lit hanging outside each cell. It was dreary and cold, and Geralt could hear the others crying.

Jaskier broke the loaf of bread in half and tossed it to Geralt, taking a long pull directly from the pitcher of water, “Eat. No arguments.”

__________

part 4 here

tag list: @hailhailsatan @so--many-fandoms

hmu if you want tagged 💕 I will cry tears of joy in my coffee

[carewyncromwell]

NEXT PART OF THE “PIRATES AU” GO TIME! For the previous part, click here, or you can also browse the entire tag for this AU here! Featuring in this section, once again, is ma cherie @cursebreakerfarrier’s girl Juliette “Jules” Farrier. <3

x~x~x~x

Carewyn had been glad for the rumbles of thunder and the terrible fog that rolled in that night. She knew Governor Farrier would want to quickly make an example out of Orion, and she needed any excuse she could scrounge up to belay his execution date so that she could figure out a way to get him out that wouldn’t either 1, put him in too much danger, or 2, make her lose her position as Commodore. If she got on the wrong side of the law herself, she’d lose the one advantage she had -- namely, the authority and power needed to keep Orion from harm.

What Carewyn could not have expected was the sound that soon accompanied the rumbles of thunder -- cannon fire.

Port Royal was under attack.

A large ship, nearly the size of the Dauntless that somehow seemed to glide in as quickly and silently as the fog, with a blood-red-stained hull and an intricate “R” chiseled into the left side of its bow came into port, and out of it came a mass of filthy, terrifying pirates all wearing dark red tunics. They held torches, pistols, and cutlasses, and they descended upon the island like a swarm of blood-stained rats.

Carewyn immediately ordered a counterattack. Sending out several battalions to protect the Governor’s mansion and the townspeople, she then stayed behind at the fort to lead her soldiers in an offensive against the ship the pirates had come from. The assault went on for almost an hour, but somehow, no matter how outnumbered the pirates were, their advance toward the fort never seemed to halt -- and somehow their numbers never seemed to dwindle...

In the brig, Orion could see the attack in the distance from the tiny window in the far upper corner of his cell. Anyone who wasn’t part of the Artemis’s crew might’ve hypothesized that these pirates had come after Orion, but Orion knew better. Murphy was far too strategic to just barrel into a busy and well-guarded town like Port Royal, and he and the rest of the crew would’ve never done something so dangerous and destructive, if nothing else, than because they’d know he wouldn’t approve. More importantly...Orion could see they were attacking the fort -- where Carewyn likely was at that very moment.

It was a struggle for Orion to try to keep calm. Whenever he was under a lot of stress -- and, to a lesser extent, whenever cannons were fired around him -- it was always rather difficult for him to find and keep his center. His heart rate would pound way too fast and he’d be unable to breathe fully or steadily and he’d have to hold his own hands in a vain attempt to keep them from shaking.

He had to get up there -- and yet his thoughts and his heartbeat were just too loud and too fast in his head for him to think. At several points the Revenge fired cannon balls right at the brig and smashed down walls, but they never managed to explode in a place Orion could use to bust his way out. He tried to meditate and clear his head -- place his faith in Carewyn, that she’d be safe -- just so that he’d be able to think clearly enough to summon up a means to actually help...but he found himself stuck in a terrible cycle of anxiety he couldn’t break free of.

Center yourself -- center -- Carewyn -- find your center -- balance -- calm -- Carewyn, please -- she’s all right -- center yourself -- no, she’s not -- no, she’s not -- find your center -- breathe --

Orion had good reason to be worried -- for when the pirates reached the fort, they cut down every soldier in their way, all with seemingly little effort. When they arrived, Carewyn also realized who it was that was attacking them.

Carewyn’s blue eyes widened upon the dark red tunics worn by the pirates at the head of the charge.

She knew that uniform only too well. It perfectly explained their ruthlessness -- and worse, despite their clear advantage in numbers, her soldiers were still somehow outmatched...

She dashed over to Percy, who had been firing at the pirates with his rifle, and seized his shoulder.

“Percy -- lead the new recruits in a retreat,” she said urgently.

Percy looked up in alarm. “Retreat? We’re abandoning the fort?”

“I care less about the fort than I do our men’s lives,” Carewyn said fiercely. “Get them out of here -- I’ll cover you.”

“But -- ”

“That’s an order, Lieutenant!” she cut him off sharply. Seeing the conflict and worry in his eyes, she then gave his shoulder a squeeze and said more softly, “I’m counting on you. Look after them.”

Percy couldn’t seem to summon any response. His freckled face was very white and scared. Nonetheless, he eventually managed to swallow back the lump in his throat and give her a fervent nod. He then immediately rushed off to gather the rest of his regiment.

“Fall back! Fall back! Stay together!”

Carewyn couldn’t hide the fear she felt herself as she turned her back on Percy and the other soldiers, unsheathing her sword and strolling leisurely into the throng of red-garbed pirates. They attacked her all at once, and within moments, she was fighting all six of them, ducking their blows and slashing into them with ferocity.

By her own design, the Commodore of Port Royal fought the crew of the pirate ship Revenge completely single-handed.

Not long after the seven pirates had swarmed the fort, they seemed to just as abruptly withdraw. No one knew why until Charlie and Bill -- hotly engaged in fighting a handful of pirates who had been ransacking houses -- caught sight of the red-garbed group who was retreating.

‘That must be the Captain!’ thought Bill.

At the head of the group was an older graying pirate dressed in a black coat much more ornate than the rest of his crew’s and a wide-brimmed red hat, which made him look like a silent, hungry vulture among a sea of red. His face was oddly placid and coolly smiling in response to all the chaos, even as he barked around at the rest of the pirates.

“Enough! Fall back now! We have what we came for!”

There was a roar of raucous delight from the rest of the crew, and they just as quickly flocked to the older man’s side.

Charlie’s eyes narrowed angrily. “No way am I gonna let you all walk off that easily -- !”

Before Bill could stop him, he charged at the group of pirates. One of them -- a female pirate, to Bill’s surprise, with a mane of long dark red curls and very cold almond-shaped blue eyes -- immediately unsheathed her own sword and the two began to fight. At last Charlie managed to stab her in the chest, making her collapse in a heap --

It was when she fell back that Charlie saw what the brown-haired female pirate to the pirate captain’s left was carrying over her shoulder -- the prone form of someone dressed in Navy blue and loosely flying ginger red hair.

“CAREY!” screamed Charlie.

Three other pirates immediately descended on Charlie with their cutlasses, slashing at his chest and his long ponytail. Charlie was soon completely overwhelmed in battle, unable to push past them. He tried to keep Carewyn in sight, but she was disappearing over the horizon --

Bill’s heart leapt into his throat as he chased after the group of pirates, his own sword high. His white robes were torn and covered in blood, but he didn’t care -- he couldn’t let them take Carewyn --

With a roar of fury, he went straight for the woman holding Carewyn. He slashed her shoulder, making her crumple in on herself with an angry cry -- Bill seized the back of Carewyn’s jacket, to pull her away --

“AAAARGH!”

Searing pain wrenched through Bill’s back, and in an instant, he was yanked backward away from Carewyn and thrown to the ground. Blood pooled out of his left side as someone stomped their foot on top of him with such force that he was slammed into the brick.

“ACK!”

“Don’t bother getting up, holy Father,” said a very cold, and yet scalding female voice. “We are demons you cannot defeat.”

Bill gritted his teeth in pain as he struggled to get to his feet.

“No -- “ he choked, his eyes flaring with righteous anger. “No, you -- you can’t have him -- !”

The captain raised his eyebrows in a cruel kind of amusement. “‘Him?’“

The brown-haired woman, who seemed to have completely shaken off the injury Bill had inflicted on her, gave a hard, forced-sounding laugh. The woman on top of Bill pushed down into him harder, making him gasp in pain.

“Heed this warning, boy,” she hissed right in his ear. “Stay away from our flesh and blood, or we’ll happily slash open your flesh and spill your blood in full.”

Her dark red curls had dropped into his line of vision -- Bill’s face contorted with confusion -- wait -- hadn’t Charlie already -- !?

“Stop playing with your food, Pearl,” said a younger, scathing male voice somewhere behind her. “We’ve got what we came for, so let’s leave this hovel behind.”

“Don’t tell me what to -- ”

“Fall back, Pearl,” the captain repeated very coolly. “Let the holy man be. Better that he learn the sting of failure that comes from doing the Lord’s work sooner rather than later.”

Bill made one last valiant attempt to get up, but the woman called Pearl kicked him in the back of the head with the metal heel of her boot and his mind went black.

Port Royal was absolutely devastated by the aftermath of the attack. Not only had their town been largely trashed, but their local hero had been stolen from them by the very pirates she fought single-handedly to give the rest of her soldiers the chance to escape from. All three Weasleys took what had happened very hard, all feeling ashamed and responsible for not having been able to protect Carewyn, who they saw as family to them. Percy immediately put his efforts toward helping the remaining officers put together a search party, but both Bill and Charlie feared that the Navy would never be able to find her. The Revenge was a ship of legends that seemingly appeared in and out of the fog like a ghost and only made berth on an island that supposedly nobody could reach unless they somehow already knew where it was. And given that it was an island inhabited by pirates, it was unlikely to be a place the British Navy could easily find.

Fortunately for the Weasleys, there was another person who was worried about Carewyn and was determined to do whatever had to be done to rescue her -- Jules Farrier. And so she charmed her way into the brig, slipped the watching guards some drugged drinks, and then picked up her skirts so she could dash down the stairs to the lone cell she knew was still inhabited.

Jules found Orion Amari sitting cross-legged in the corner of his cell. His eyes were closed and his hands were clasped in his lap. The wall behind him had been broken open at the top, but the jagged hole wasn’t wide enough for him to slip through.

The Governor’s daughter bent down, grabbing onto one of the wooden bars of his cell so she could look through them at him.

“Captain Amari,” she said urgently.

Orion’s head twitched. Although his expression was as unreadable as ever, his shoulders were tenser than normal as he slowly opened his eyes.

“...Miss Farrier,” he said, sounding far less surprised than he probably was. “I hope your Mr. Weasley is well.”

Jules flushed a little at the mention of “her” Mr. Weasley, but was too focused on the task at hand to care.

“Captain Amari, Carey’s been kidnapped.”

Orion’s expression abruptly tensed. His dark eyes went very wide and he froze up like a deer in the headlights.

“What?” The word came out so quietly and shakily it was like it was only said by a shadow of his actual voice.

“It was the Revenge,” said Jules, as Orion quickly shoved himself across the floor so that he could also grab onto the bars and peek through them at her. “They stormed the fort -- they trashed everything, but didn’t take anything except her. Bill and Charlie tried to stop them, but -- ”

“You can’t fight those men,” Orion cut her off very lowly.

He closed his eyes again -- he was breathing as deeply as he could, as if he were trying to keep his heart rate down.

“...There are tales, about the curse that plagues the Revenge’s crew. Some say they cannot be killed. Some say they’re not even human. Some say that they’re more dead than alive, and yet they walk among us all the same...”

He clasped his hands together, his dark eyebrows knitting together over his eyes.

“Carewyn was able to escape their curse, when she and Jacob fled all those years ago...and knowing Charles Cromwell, he couldn’t stand the thought of any member of his family living free -- of the curse...or of him.”

Jules’s eyes narrowed. Carewyn had never told her much about her grandfather, but considering she was more than experienced dealing with a family member who tried to dictate how she should live her life, she completely understood why Jacob wanted to get himself and his sister away from that.

“The Navy’s sent out search parties, but we all know that they won’t find her quickly. But you care about Carewyn -- she told me she helped you, and that you let her escape. You have a ship and a crew -- and since you’re a pirate, you’d probably be able to find out where the Revenge makes berth, right?”

Orion opened his eyes at last. His gaze upon Jules’s face was very unreadable.

“Finding Carewyn I believe I could manage,” he said levelly, “were I not currently imprisoned.”

Jules’s lips spread into a wry smile as she rose to her feet and reached into her sleeve.

“These might help with that,” she said coolly, dangling the ring of keys off of her pointer finger.

Getting Orion out of his cell was the easy part. Another pair of men had come to take the place of the original guards and found them passed out on the floor, just before they caught sight of Orion and Jules darting around the hall. Soon the bronze bell was clanging, signalling a prison break, and more soldiers arrived. At one point Orion even had to pick Jules up bridal style so they could jump down a set of stairs. Just when it seemed they might get captured, though, who should come to their rescue, but --

“Bill!” breathed Jules in relief.

Bill kicked the last soldier off the wall and whirled around. Orion quickly put Jules down, and Bill immediately swooped down on her, clutching her shoulder and searching her face for injuries.

“Are you hurt? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Jules, “but Bill -- what are you -- ?”

Bill gave her a grim smile. “Same reason as you, I reckon.”

His brown eyes flickered over to Orion, narrowing slightly as he straightened up.

“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, Amari,” said the priest, “but if Miss Farrier got you out, I imagine she convinced you to help us find out where Charles Cromwell took Carey.”

Orion inclined his head. “I understand that you don’t trust me, Bill Weasley, but rest assured, I don’t want Carewyn in the clutches of Charles Cromwell any more than you do.”

Bill still looked very suspicious; Jules brought a hand onto his arm and gave it a squeeze through the sleeve of his robes.

“Bill, we can trust him. He cares about Carey -- I know she’d trust him, if our places were switched.”

Bill deflated slightly under Jules’s hold. He stared down at her for a long moment; then, with a swallow, he turned back to Orion.

“...Carey never has trusted easily,” he said quietly, “so if you think that’s true, and if you trust him...then I will as well.”

His silent stare seemed to add, ‘For now.’

The three were abruptly startled to attention by the sound of a loud CRASH. They dashed around the corner, to find a large piece of the lowered wooden gate on top of a group of stunned soldiers and another ginger-haired man climbing casually through the hole over to them.

“Charlie?” said Bill, taken aback.

Charlie grinned at Bill and Jules. “Hey, lovebirds! Guess we must’ve had the same idea -- though I’d planned on shaking the bloke down for information, not set him loose...”

He cocked an eyebrow at Orion.

“But oh well -- is he taking us to Carey?”

Orion inclined his head to Charlie like he had Bill, his dark eyes very calm but still narrowed seriously.

“I am returning to the Artemis and aim to go after the Revenge. If you wish to assist me in that, I would be very grateful. If you wish to join me in it, however, it would be far more dangerous -- even more so than what you’ve already done.”

Charlie’s grin grew a bit more cocky. “Look, mate -- Carey is my twin. Not by blood, but she’s my twin all the same. She’s family. There’s no way in Hell I’m not going to help her, if she needs me.”

Bill glanced at Jules. He agreed with Charlie 100%, but Jules going would be very different than either of them. She hadn’t been in the Navy -- she wasn’t trained with a pistol or sword.

Nevertheless Jules looked back at Bill with a perfectly fearless expression.

“Us too,” she said firmly.

Bill’s eyes rippled with emotion around his broadening smile. Juliette Farrier truly was the bravest, most wonderful woman he’d ever met in his life.

Grinning, Charlie turned back to the broken gate.

“Now then, you’d best get those swords out -- there’ll no doubt be a party waiting for us, if we head for any of the docks. I hope your ship’s not too far off, Amari.”

Orion’s dark eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Not at all,” he said levelly. “The Artemis’s best aspect is her ability to hide in plain sight.”

“Good.”

Charlie unsheathed the sword at his side. The heavy iron hilt was beautifully melded into a stylized dragon.

“Never thought I’d get such good use out of this baby, when I made it,” he said with another cheeky grin as he held it aloft.

Orion, Bill, Charlie, and Jules dashed for the northern-most dock. It was largely deserted except for what looked like a single, abandoned ship -- but, as it turned out, that was merely an illusion. Orion Amari apparently had a good friend in Tortuga who specialized in old magics, and after he’d been kind to her, she’d cast a spell on the Artemis that gave it the ability to disguise itself as an innocent-looking merchant ship. Once Orion used the word necessary to remove the illusion, both the Artemis and its crew reappeared, and they made ready to board. As Charlie had predicted, however, a whole slew of soldiers had come to stop them -- among them, the final Weasley brother, Percy, who was the last one left standing after Orion, Charlie, and Bill had taken out the rest of the battalion and Orion had made it on board the Artemis.

Unlike Bill and Charlie, however, Percy refused to trust Orion -- he was a pirate, just like the ones who’d kidnapped Carewyn. He’d kidnapped her himself, even if Carewyn managed to get away. If Bill and Charlie went with him, they’d be labeled as pirates too -- if Jules went, then the Governor would hunt all of them down and probably kill them, just to get her back.

“I know you want to help,” he told his brothers sharply, pointing his pistol at them but only by protocol, “but let the Navy handle this!”

“The Navy can’t find a pirate island!” Charlie shot back impatiently. “Charles Cromwell is ruthless, Perce -- if we dally around waiting for the Navy to find her the ‘upstanding way,’  Carey might be dead by the time we reach her!”

“And if you do this, then you’ll have nothing left to come back to!” said Percy. “You’ll be tarred with Amari’s brush, Charlie -- you and Bill, and Jules -- you’ll be criminals! You’ll have no future, no home -- no chance at a normal life, ever again! You’ll be hunted down like animals! The Navy will hunt you down -- the thing you fought for! The thing we fought for! The thing Carey and I still fight for! Is that what Mum and Dad would want? Ginny, or Ron, or Fred and George? Is that what Carey would want -- you throwing away your entire lives and futures!?”

Percy’s hand holding his pistol was shaking. Bill’s lips came together very tightly.

“Percy,” he said very softly, “we can’t let Carey stay in the clutches of Charles Cromwell. That man slaughtered his own daughter and her husband, all because they wouldn’t bow to his will. Carey was lucky to escape him, when she had the chance. I’m sure she’s known her whole life that he might catch up with her and dreaded that moment every single day...and yet she kept it all to herself, because that’s what Carey does. She takes every knife she can herself, so we don’t have to.”

Jules looked from Bill to Percy, her brown eyes narrowed in determination as she nodded in agreement.

“We can’t leave her, Percy,” she said firmly. “Once Carey’s safe...whatever happens next...we can deal with the consequences.”

Percy stared up at them, his freckles very stark against his deathly pale face. His eyes darted from Charlie to Bill and back.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered.

Charlie stubbornly turned away and strode right up the gangplank onto the Artemis’s deck. He stopped to Orion’s right, but avoided eye contact with anyone on board.

“Charlie -- ” pleaded Percy. “Don’t do this -- think of Mum -- think of us -- ”

Jules headed up the gangplank too, turning back to look at Bill. Bill turned away from Percy. 

“Bill -- ” Percy said again. “Don’t -- please -- ”

Bill bowed his head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Bill!”

Percy’s voice came out as a despair-filled, choked yelp of pain. The sound clearly affected Bill, judging by how he shut his eyes tight. Jules reached out as if to take his hand, but Bill plowed up the gangplank, unable to face anyone, as the gangplank was raised and the Artemis immediately set sail.

Charlie escaped into the rigging and sat in the crow’s nest alone for the next hour. Bill went to the far side of the deck, grabbing onto the railing in a vice grip and hunching over it as he struggled not to cry. Jules came up beside him and, her own eyes full of pain, she rested her head and shoulder against his, desperate to show any support she could.

As much as they all knew they had no other choice, if they wanted to save Carewyn...it didn’t make the schism between the Weasley brothers any less searing and painful.

[valeriethepussycats]

Assemble

Chapter 9

Pairing- Loki x Reader x Steve (one side)

Warning- cursing

Your thoughts and other characters are in italics.

Fury gathers Tony and Steve back into the briefing room everyone there has a look as if in a daze. A look of numb shock is shown on their devastated faces.

“These were in Phil Coulson's jacket.Guess he never did get you to sign them.”Nick throws Coulson's Captain America trading cards  on the table towards Steve. Steve picks them up, stained with blood.

“We're dead in the air up here. Our communications, location of the cube, Banner, Thor and I don’t know if Y/n will recover from this....I got nothing for you. Lost my one good eye. Maybe I had that coming.Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number though, because I was playing something even riskier.” Nick told Steve and Ton. “There was an idea, Stark knows this, called The Avengers Initiative. The idea to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more. See if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea, in heroes.”

Tony gets up and walks off, not wanting to hear it anymore.

“Well, it's an old fashioned notion.” Nick finished.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Thor walks out far into the meadow. He looks down. Mjölnir.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Banner wakes up, in human form with Y/n words echoing in he’s head. He looks around and sees he is in a pile of rubble and looks up at the open ceiling he crashed in and is completely naked. A Security Guard stands there, amazed. “You fell out of the sky.”

“Did I hurt anybody?”  Bruce asked coming to.

“There's nobody around here to get hurt. You did scare the hell out of some

pigeons though.” The Security Guard  answered.

“Lucky.” Bruce replied.

“Or just good aim. You were awake when  you fell.”  The Security Guard told Bruce.

“You saw?”

“The whole thing, right through the ceiling. Big and green and buck ass nude. Here...”  He throws Banner a pair of big pants. Banner pulls on his pants. “I didn't think those would fit you  until you shrunk down to a regular size fella.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you an alien?”

“What?” Bruce asked.

“From outer space, an alien?” The Security Guard wondered.

“No.” Bruce answered.

“Well then, son, you've got a condition.”  The Security Guard disclosed.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Barton is strapped down. Natasha watches over him as Barton tries to shake off Loki's mind control.

“Clint, you're gonna be alright.” Natasha told him.”

“You know that? Is that what you know? I got...I gotta go in though. I gotta

flush him out.”  Barton stated.

“We don't have that long, it's gonna take time.” Natasha stressed.

“I don't understand. Have you ever had someone take your brain and play? Pull you out and send something else in? Do you know what it's like to be unmade?” Barton questioned.

“You know that I do.” Natasha replied.

“Why am I back? How did you get him out?” Barton asked.

“Cognitive recalibration. I hit you really hard in the head.” Natasha answered.

“Thanks.” Barton stated then Natasha unfastens the restraints. “Tasha, how many agents?”

“Don't. Don't do that to yourself,  Clint. This is Loki. This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for.”  Natasha explained.

“Loki, he got away?” Barton wondered.

“Yeah. I don't suppose you know where?”  Natasha asked.

“I didn't need to know. I didn't ask.  He's gonna make his play soon though. Today.”  Barton answered.

“We gotta stop him.” Natasha declared.”

“Yeah? Who's we?” Barton questioned.

“I don't know. Whoever's left.” Natasha replied.

“Well, if I put an arrow in Loki's eye socket, I'd sleep better I suppose.” Barton  remarked.

“Now you sound like you.” Natasha sits next to her partner and friend.

“But you don't. You're a spy, not a soldier. Now you want to wade into a war. Why? What did Loki do to you?” Barton  asked.

“He didn't, I just...”

“Natasha.”

“I've been compromised. I got red in my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Y/n is in Coulson’s office or more like he’s room trying to calm the raging storm inside of her revenge and anger is never a good combination with her. She Angrily swipeseverything off of his desk breaking the laptop. Automatically feeling guilty Y/n been down to pick up the laptop and sees a briefcase under the desk Curiosity taking over her she pulls the briefcase out and sees that it has her name on it.

“What are you?”

Y/n opens the briefcase and see A sticky note that says play me. Y/n then moves the sticky note and play on the video. At first all you could hear is rumble and the  screen is black. Giving up on the video Y/n  moves to pick up the stuff she knocked off the deck. 

“You should cover up because it’s going to Rain.” Said Coulson’s voice.

Y/n turns to look back at the briefcase and see Coulson on the screen.

“No um time to bundle up because it’s going to rain no. Ohhh how about the  Red Wing Black bird soaring through the sky. Get it  because of the color of the wings  it reminds me of you and the Phoenix....The point is I had this uniform made for you because your a hero and every hero needs to dress the part and have a name. Now go save the world.”

The video stops an a Second part compartment from the briefcase opened up revealing a bodysuit that’s Blue, Red, with a Yellow. It’s like Funky and Radiant. The base of the suit is blue and it’s had a red vertical line going down the middle and two yellow diagonal lines on each side of the vertical line, and the sleeves and legs have the same design as the stomach but the sleeves go all the way down to Cover the two middle fingers. The top of the suit makes an ‘x’ separate each side of the chest, leaving the neck and a little cleavage showing.

Oh Phill this is beautiful

When Y/n turns the suit around to look at the back she see a Metal plate on her upper back.

What are you for?

Just as the thought ran into Y/n’s mind a small Wood sheath attached to the Metal plate. Y/n gaps in shock. She knows exactly what that is

Y/n goes to pull the handle of the Sword out of the Wood sheath  and see a small dagger that slowly start to unfold into a 65 cm Katana Sword.

“Oh my god...how could he had this made.” Y/n wondered as a slow smile creeped on to her face. She knew she could do it and so did Phill.

Red Wing has a nice ring to it

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Tony look at the hatch. He stands not saying a word. Steve walks in.

“Was he married?” Steve asked.

“No. There was a uh...cellist, I think.” Tony answered.

“I'm sorry. He seemed like a good man.” Steve  answered.

“He was an idiot.” Tony remarked.

“Why? For believing?” Steve asked.

“For taking on Loki alone.” Tony stated.

“He was doing his job.”  Steve voiced

“He was out of his league. He should have waited. He should have...” Tony said looking at the spot where  Coulson die.

“Sometimes there isn't a way out, Tony.” Steve started.

Tony walks away from Steve. “Right. How did that work for him?” Tony asked sarcastically

“Is this the first time you've lost a soldier?” Steve asked.

Tony turns around sharply. “ WE ARE NOT SOLDIERS! I am not marching to Fury's fife!”

“Neither am I! He's got the same blood on his hands as Loki does. Right now we've got to put that aside and get this done. Now Loki needs a power source, if we can put together a list...”  Steve trailed off.

“He’s in Manhattan and if I’m not mistaken I think he’s at your tower Tony. It’s the only power store in Manhattan that I can think of.” Y/n chimed in.

Tony and Steve turns around and see Y/n standing in the door waring a black and white suit.

“Y/n.” Steve said staggered.

“What do you think Phil had it made. I’ve never had a suit of armor before but this is kind of bad ass.” Y/n proclaimed while she was checking herself out.

When Steve saw Y/n’s suit he had to check himself. He know of Y/n’s powers before the rest of the team so he knows if he let’s he’s mind wonder it would go to ungentleman like place  and Y/n could pick up on that and he doesn’t want to make things awkward between them. Steve can really see Y/n being an important person in his new life. Steve clears his throat then asks. “Where you going?”

“To stop Loki but first I’m gonna find Thor.” Y/n answered.

“What about Banner?” Tony asked.

“I sent Bruce to Manhattan.” Y/n answered.

“Are you sure your ok to do this?” Steve asked in a  concern voice.

“Yes. Im 75% sure I can do. I just  had to take some time to clear my head because before fighting Loki To keep my emotions in check.” Y/n answered.

“Or you’ll  go Super Saiyan got it.” Tony remarked.

“I am so sorry about that...” Y/n trailed off.

Steve waves his hand. “It’s ok we understand anyone would be upset finding out that kind of news.”

Y/n smiles at Tony and Steve then opens the hatch. Clueless to what’s going on Steve and Tony backs up from the hatch.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tony questioned.

Y/n smiles. “You guys need to suit up I’ll see you there.”  

Y/n jumps in the hatch then it closes behind her. Steve and Tony look at the hatch wide eyes and their mouths slightly open.

“Did she just?” Steve asked.

“Yes. Yes she did.” Tony answered.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Erik works around the CMS device that has already been set-upon the rooftop of Tony's tower.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Steve walks in full uniform. Natasha looks at him, unprepared.

“Time to go.” Steve announced.

“Go where?” Natasha wondered.

“I'll tell you on the way. Can you fly  one of those jets?”  Steve asked.

Barton walks out of the restroom. Looks at Cap. “I can.”

Steve looks at Natasha and she nods her head to confirm Barton's on their side.

“You got a suit?” Steve asked Barton.

“Yeah.”

“Then suit up.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Y/n is flying in the sky searching the ground to see where Thor landed until a massive lightning bolt all most hits her, Y/n flys out the way and looks down and see Thor.

“Really you couldn’t killed me!” Y/n shouted as she flys down to Thor who is standing in a meadow of flowers.

“I know about Phill.” Y/n said with a hint of sadness.

“I’m sorry. I know he meant  the world to you.” Thor said as he gives Y/n a hug then placed his forehead on her for a moment of silence.

“I’ll deal with Loki I gave you my word.” Thor declare.

“What happens if you get hurt?” Y/n asked.

“You will not risky your life me Y/n not again.” Thor disclosed getting upset for his friend.

“I won’t but I won’t yet you get hurt knowing I can help...come on I know where Loki is.” Y/n voiced leaving  no room for an argument.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Captain America pulls on his Helmet and Shield. Tony welds his Iron Man helmet. Light slips down over Iron Man's eye holes. Black Widow attaches a glove gauntlet  with her rounds on her wrist and a blue light charges. Hawkeye slips on his quiver of arrows.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Cap, Widow and Hawkeye walk towards and into the Quinjet. A Young Shield Pilot looks and stands in their way.

“You are not authorized to be here...” The Pilot stated.

“Son... just don't.” Steve told the The Pilot.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Fury looks the window of the ship, contemplating. Agent Hill

walks up to him, knowing. “Sir.”

“Agent Hill?”

“Those cards, they were in Coulson's locker, not in his jacket.” Agent Hill disclosed.

“They needed the push.” Nick said  holding Coulson's cards.

A loud noise screeches. Fury looks out to see Iron Man flying off as well as the Quinjet.

“They found it. Get our communications back up, whatever you have to do. I  want eyes on everything.” Nick ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

Part 10

Kuddly Krab: @aesthethickks​

[shownuslaugh]

Through the Years

Series: Bigbang 6th Member AU

Pairing: SJ/GD

2007

           Taeyang nudges SJ forward but the younger girl’s slight frame takes it more as a shove. She lurches forward, mumbling under her breath and staring directly at the ground. She can’t look up. Can’t look him in the eyes. And why should she? He’s been nothing but a pain in her ass since day one, pushing her around and harassing her to her wits end.

           “Say it,” Seunghyun tells her.

           SJ crosses her arms and squares her shoulders before looking at Jiyong dead in the eye. “Happy birthday. Jerk.”

           Daesung gasps and pulls SJ back, scolding her so quietly someone stumbling on the scene would think he’s saying nothing at all. SJ shakes away his hold on her with an annoyed huff.

           “Thank you.” Jiyong’s smile is razor sharp, making SJ gulp audibly. That smile means something is coming. And it won’t be good for her.

2008

           “I don’t wanna!” SJ whines the entire time Daesung drags her behind him. “Dae, he hates me! Why should I even show up?”

           “Because we’re a group. Now come on.”

           “Do you still have the gift I got for you to give him?” Taeyang peers at her curiously, searching for a square box hidden in her bag.

           “No,” SJ answers with a bite to her tone. “I tossed it.”

           “What?!”

           “Don’t worry! I’ll give you your twenty bucks back.” She fishes around in her pocket. “Here.”

           Taeyang groans. “SJ, you can’t keep doing this.”

           “Watch me.”

           “I don’t think any of us really want to,” Seungri mutters.

           SJ’s brow arches. “What was that?”

           “Just go be a bitch to him so we can get this over with and have fun. We’re all sick of it.” Seunghyun is the one to answer SJ, practically daring her to argue with the intensity of his gaze.

           SJ’s eyes wander from Top to the bar where she notices Jiyong propped up on the counter. He’s chatting with some girl in a dress two sizes too small and makeup that looks like it was done in the dark. SJ’s stomach falls to the soles of her feet.

           “See!” She gestures wildly. “He doesn’t even want to spend his birthday with us anyway! Just…” SJ pulls some change out of her pocket and shoves it towards one of the guys. She honestly doesn’t care who. “Give him this and tell him to get a condom out of that machine in the bathroom. It’s on me. Can’t have our precious leader catching an STD, can we?”

           SJ storms out of the club.

           Daesung looks between her and Jiyong. “She knows that’s Dara… right?”

           Taeyang sighs. “I don’t think she cares.”

           Seungri toys with the coins SJ gave him. “Who wants to give this to hyung?”

           All of them groan.

2009

           SJ sneaks quietly weaves through the other party goers, searching the dense crowd for Jiyong. He shouldn’t be this difficult to spot at his own birthday party but he’s sending her on one hell of a search.

           “Oh, hyung!” SJ grabs Seunghyun’s arm, pulling him down to her height. “Have you seen GD around?”

           Seunghyun points toward their kitchen. It seems like it takes far more effort than necessary, so SJ appreciates his drunken attempt. She pats him on the cheek, giggling at the way his eyes sparkle at the affection.

           When SJ enters the kitchen GD is alone, nursing a can of beer. He grins at her crookedly when she approaches.

           “Ah, there she is! My favorite girl in the world.” His words slur together and SJ’s suddenly struck by a feeling of discomfort. “You actually came this year.”

           SJ grimaces. “Yeah.”

           “Do I get a present this year?” Jiyong bats his eyelashes, giggling playfully.

           She considers the gift card to one of his favorite music stores safely tucked away in her back pocket. A sense of outrage fills her suddenly. “My presence is your present, you jerk!”

           She’ll just spend it on herself.

2010

           SJ is… surprisingly pleased with herself. The entire day has passed, schedules are done, Jiyong’s birthday dinner wrapped up, and he still has no idea. No idea that the second he opens the door to his bedroom-

           “PARK SOOJIN!”

           SJ runs to his room, almost tripping over her own feet in excitement. She trows out her arms and yells “Happy birthday, hyung!”

           Jiyong doesn’t know whether to be impressed or exasperated as balloon after balloon falls out of his bedroom and litters the hallway. “SJ, what the fuck?”

           She deflates a little. “Don’t… don’t you like it?” Did she overthink how close they were getting? Was she misreading signs whenever he’d chuckle at one of her pranks on the other members? Did she just ruin everything good they had going between them?

           When he sees the panic in her eyes he’s quick to reassure her. “No, no, no, it’s great! I was just shocked at first!”

           Still not completely convinced, she points to his bed. “There’s more.”

           He creeps in slowly, careful not to pop any of the balloons. His bed is absolutely covered in silly string and streamers, the colors alternating between red, black, gold, and white. Beneath all of that is a picture frame. It’s clearly hand painted, the designs intricate yet sloppy all at once. Jiyong smiles, brushes away the celebratory debris, and picks the frame up as if it’s the most precious thing he owns.

           “Thank you, SJ.” And he means it.

           “It’s from the day we found out we’d debut together.” SJ’s voice is soft, lost in memory. “Youngbae’s mom helped me track it down.”

           Jiyong ruffles her hair before letting his hand slide down the side of her face and cup her cheek. “You’re the best.”

2011

           “Jiyong!” SJ tugs on his leg in an attempt to drag him out of bed. “Come on! Let’s go!”

           “I don’t want a party this year!” He kicks her away impatiently, not in the mood to go out. “I just want to stay in and spend it with the people I actually care about.”

           “So, fuck us then, huh?”

           He sits up at the sound of Dami’s voice. “I thought you were working!”

           Dami shrugs. “When SJ calls I answer.”

           “But when I call-” Jiyong doesn’t finish that sentence. “Never mind.”

           “That’s what I thought.”

           SJ perches on the edge of his bed, threading her fingers through his. “I know how long it’s been since you’ve seen your family… so I might’ve made a few phone calls and bought a few plane tickets. Don’t worry, you still don’t have to go out somewhere. Everyone is here.”

           “And you’ll stay?”

           She nods. “Whatever you want. It’s your day, Jiyong.”

2012

           “SJ, seriously. It’s his birthday!” Daesung watches as SJ gets ready for her date with Siwon.

           “You think I don’t know that?” She shoots him a glare that’s equal parts amusing and terrifying. “It’s not like I can just ring up Unicef and be like ‘hey can you reschedule this whole charity gala thing? It’s my best fri-”

           Daesung’s entire demeanor perks up. “It’s your what? Go ahead, SJ. Finish your sentence.”

           SJ rolls her eyes. “I’ll be back before midnight. I’ll just see him then.”

           “Alright, Cinderella.”

           She’s not back by midnight.

           Jiyong waits up expectantly, heart growing heavier and heavier with each minute that passes by. She’s never missed his birthday before. Never. Maybe that’s the exact moment his hatred for Siwon started, burning so bright and so intense it colors his every action around SJ’s boyfriend. Fuck, the word hurts to even think.

           So he just goes to bed.

           The clock glows 2:32 am when Jiyong feels his bed dip and slender arms wrap around his waist. He shifts around so he and SJ are face to face.

           “I’m-”

           Jiyong shakes his head. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”

           SJ’s cheeks puff up. “I wasn’t going to.”

           “Oh?”

           “I was going to say: I’m all yours for the next twenty four hours. I know I’m a shitty friend for choosing the gala over you, but I’m not leaving your side again until this time tomorrow. You’ll be absolutely sick of me.”

           Jiyong hides his grin by pulling her into a tight hug. “God, you’re such a little punk. What the hell am I gonna do with you?”

           He can practically hear the smile in her voice. “Love me anyway?”

2013

           “What the fuck is this?” Jiyong pulls the blindfold down and looks around the bright white studio. His eyes immediately find SJ’s who simply smiles and gestures around her.

           “Ta da! It’s yours!”

           “What’s mine?”

           “This.” SJ skips around. “This whole place! You can use it as an art studio. I know you’re really into that lately and your apartment doesn’t really have enough room so… do you like it?”

           “Do I like it?” Jiyong looks around in awe. “I fucking love it.” He picks her up and spins her around, planting a kiss on her cheek as he lowers her back on the ground. “SJ, you’ve got a beautiful fucking soul, babe.”

           “I expect your first work to be for me.”

           “Oh, fuck yeah.”

2014

           SJ looks mildly upset. Okay, so, maybe Jiyong’s downplaying it a little. She looks absolutely devasted.

           “SooJin?” He gets no response. “Kitten?”

           SJ huffs. “Don’t call me that. I don’t deserve it.”

           “Why?”

           “I didn’t know what to get you this year,” she wails pathetically. “And when I finally found something Kiko mentioned you might think it’s dumb…”

           Jiyong can’t help but laugh. “SJ, I think you know me a little better than Kiko. What was it?”

           SJ bites her lips nervously. “Well…”

           “SJ. Show me. It’s my birthday present anyway.”

           She huffs in annoyance. “Fine.” She fishes through her bag and pulls out a little keychain. “I know it’s not much but I thought it was cute and reminded me of you. It’s a g dragon.”

           He runs his thumb over the tiny dragon, curving and twisting its body in a way that makes it look like a capital G. The laughter bubbles up in his chest, spilling out of him before he can repress it.

           “SJ, this is adorable. I love it.”

           SJ blushes, quietly saying, “I mean… I thought you would.”

2015

           “Sooo…” SJ threads her fingers between Jiyong’s and swings their arms as they walk through Times Square. “You know how I’m, like, the best gift giver ever?”

           “Yeah?”

           “Well, you might actually hate me this year.”

           “What? Why?”

           Instead of saying anything, SJ points up to one of the many, many screens above their heads. There, in all its neon glory, is single handedly the most embarrassing photograph Jiyong has ever seen of himself. He’s asleep, mouth wide open, stubble across his chin, and his eyes are half open. HAPPY BIRTHDAY LITTLE PRINCE accompanies the picture in bold while lettering.

           “You have five seconds,” Jiyong mutters.

           “Oh shit!” SJ doesn’t hesitate before taking off through the crowd. “Remember how much you love me!”

           “I’m going to kill you!”

2016

           Jiyong eyes the kitchen table with rapt interest. Every single Dragon Ball related movie or tv series sits in front of him, teasing him, begging him to just dive in. But he can’t. SJ made sure of that.

           “SJ, come on,” he whines. “This is my birthday! Why do I have to wait?”

           “Calm down you big baby. I’m almost done.” She hurries out of the bathroom and shoves a bunch of fabric in his arms. “Go change.”

           “Are these… matching pajamas?”

           “Yep! Now go!” SJ pushes him towards the bathroom so she can pop in the first dvd. He emerges from the bathroom not even a minute later, looking cute and cuddly and every bit the dork she knows he is.

           “Aww,” she coos. “Look at you.”

           Jiyong rolls his eyes and plops down on the couch. “I feel like I’m in one of your weird wet dreams.”

           “You wish. Now, are you ready to start from the very beginning?”

           Jiyong considers her words and feels vaguely sentimental. This really is starting from the beginning. The beginning of them. Or, uh, their friendship. Yeah, friendship.

           “I can feel you getting sappy on me, Kwon,” SJ teases.

           He clears his throat, picking his cat up off the floor and settling the tiny creature in his lap. “Play the damn dvd.”

           “Yes, sir.”

2017

           “Okay, so,” SJ sets a book down in front of Jiyong. It creates a heavy thud against the wooden table as she does so. “I can’t take full credit for this one. You’re mom helped me out with it and I’ve sort of had the idea for a couple years now. I figured with Kwon Jiyong being out now it’s an appropriate time to give it to you.”

           “Babe, you’re rambling.” Jiyong chuckles.

           SJ nods. “Right. Sorry.”

           “It’s cute.”

           “I’m not cute!” She shakes her head as if trying to keep herself on track. “Anyway, you’re mom had all of the pre-2009 photos. The rest of them are ones I had.”

           Jiyong starts flipping through the book. It’s red leather, his name embossed in gold lettering on the front. The whole thing is cool and smooth to the touch, each page painstakingly put together with effort and love. Most of the photos he’s seen before. Some of the more recent ones… well, those are new.

           “You took these?” He asks in pure awe.

           SJ nods. “I like candids. The ones where you aren’t looking. That’s my favorite.” She points to a photo of him onstage. The angle makes it seem like he’s larger than he is, more important than he is. He’s standing on his own but laughing at something going on off camera, smile stretching from ear to ear. In one of his hands is his mic. In the other is SJ’s own outstretched hand.

           Jiyong makes a promise to himself that night as SJ heads back to her own place that she’s never getting away from him. Ever.

2018

           “Hyung!” SJ pops out from behind Jiyong’s father with a gorgeous, blinding smile. “Happy birthday.”

           “Oh, SJ, really. Again with the hyung?” Jiyong’s mother scolds her half-heartedly.

           Dami laughs. “Careful, Mom. You’re scolding your future daughter-in-law.”

           “I’m aware.”

           SJ rolls her eyes before sitting herself firmly by Jiyong’s side. He almost can’t believe it. She looks so good. So healthy. Her skin is practically glowing and even without makeup she’s completely flawless. She’s gained some weight from touring, softening her curves and face. Her femininity is undeniable and Jiyong finds himself more attracted to her than ever. If this is the difference a few months can make he wonders what a whole year will bring.

           “I’ve got your present.” SJ pulls out a little box from her bag and pushes it across the table, the wrapping already partially coming off, but it’s fine and all the more endearing because it just means SJ did it herself.

Jiyong has to hide the grin on his face when he pulls out a silver bracelet, a bejeweled blue jay handing from the delicate chain. His heart melts when she fastens it around his wrist, her fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

“So you won’t forget me,” she says with a shy smile.

Jiyong scoffs because what the fuck. How could he ever? “You’re full of it,” he answers with a smile that says everything he can’t quite yet

2019

           Life… doesn’t get better than this, Jiyong decides as he watches his father toss an arm around SJ and give her a quick side hug after she laughs particularly hard at one of his dumb jokes. His mother also watches them with a fondness in her eyes while Dami… well, Dami’s got her eyes on Jiyong.

           “When’s the wedding,” she leans over and whispers in his ear.

           It’s unbecoming of a soldier to blush but Jiyong can’t help how the tips of his ears burn bright pink. “Shut up.”

           “Has she given you your present yet?”

           “N-no.” Jiyong doesn’t like her tone or the teasing sparkle in her eye.

           Dami makes a shock sound. “Really? Allow me to wrap this up then.”

           “Dami, what are you-”

           “It’s been real, lil bro, but I think we should all be heading out. Right, Mom?”

           Jiyong’s mother (already aware SJ’s present is a little on the private side) responds in the affirmative after a moment of shock. “Oh, yes, I’m exhausted. How about you, dear?”

           Jiyong’s father shakes his head. “I’m fine.” His wife elbows him in the ribs. “I mean, yes, let’s go. I’m tired.”

           “We’ll see you tomorrow, love.” Jiyong’s mother gives him a quick peck on the cheek. “SooJin, sweetheart, why don’t you stay a while longer? We’ll meet you back at the hotel tonight.”

           “Not if it goes well,” Jiyong’s dad rumbles. He gives a hearty laugh when Dami shushes him dramatically.

           “Well that was…” Jiyong blinks in confusion. “Actually, I don’t know what that was.”

           “Cringe?” SJ offers the word up with an awkward laugh.

           He nods and silence settles. It’s strange. Usually things aren’t this tense and weird between them. Usually their silences are comfortable. Easy. Hardly noticeable. This one hangs heavy on Jiyong’s heart, convincing him he’s done something horribly, terribly, utterly wrong.

           “SJ-”

           He’s shocked when she moves from her spot across the restaurant table to sit right beside him. He’s even more shocked that she moves in closer, pressing her hands to his firm chest, openly admiring the hard muscles beneath her fingertips. This is out of character. SJ would never… would she? Is this why his parents were in such a rush to leave? To give them alone time?

           “What are you doing?” His voice is thick, barely audible, drowning in lust and confusion. “SJ… what’s going on?”

           Her eyes flicker up to his, deep pools of the most delicious chocolate. “I have a present for you.”

           She moves slowly like she’s scared of running him off. It’s slightly ridiculous in Jiyong’s opinion. The only place he has any intention of running to is straight towards her. Fully, openly, happily. When their lips meet he can’t hear anything but the sound of blood rushing in his ears, flooding a little further down south. Her lips fit against his perfectly. Like they were made for each other. He grips her hips and pulls her closer, throwing his everything into the kiss. This may be the only time he ever gets this, so why not make the most of it?

           “Jiyong,” SJ moans as she breaks the kiss. “I… just… look, listen to this later, okay?” She pats his front pocket where she slipped in a tiny USB drive during the kiss. “And happy birthday.”

           Later that night as he’s alone- blessedly, strangely, alone- he plugs the USB into his laptop. There’s only one music file available and he clicks on it instantly. The opening chords are soothing yet dramatic. He recognizes it as SJ’s work before her voice even starts up. He closes his eyes and for four minutes loses himself in the music. It’s not until the very end that he realizes.

           The song was his birthday present.

           The song was for him.

           Park “I can’t write love songs without outside help” SooJin composed and produced a whole love song for him.

           Jiyong’s head starts spinning. What does this mean? Where does it leave them? Instead of overthinking things he chooses to replay the song again and again until he blinks and the sun is peaking hazy over the horizon.

[robinmarlowe]

The Manor

Chapter 1 — Arrival

When the carriage pulled up to the estate, the wind was whipping around us in a fury. It smelled salty, from the sea, and sweet with the beginning of autumn's rot. Dry leaves scraped across the cobblestone in swirling dervishes. It was the sort of weather that reminded you how nature could disregard the very existence of humanity. The wide and open fields of the estate gave the wind free reign to roll and build and push the world about.

I liked this sort of weather. It seemed consequential. I lived in a dull world that was carefully built up and maintained, held together by manners and tradition and devoted to comfort and boredom. Weather like this pulled trees out by the roots and reminded each and every person that their life is fragile, and their society even more so.

My father once called me a destructive little brat, and so maybe my affinity for the wind has to do with our shared ability to destroy and annoy.

My aunt, Edith, was chattering along next to me, the wind whipping away every other word as if hoping to spare me somewhat from the cruelty of idle gossip, but now she looked as if she was expecting responses. I leaned forward to listen.

"You know your father is the only one who ever met her mother. An actress from the americas. He told me once that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen -- though I was sworn to secrecy because he was courting your mother at the time. She left two months after poor Elizabeth was born. Absolutely devastating. Jack told Elizabeth that her mother died in childbirth. He thought it would spare her from more complicated emotions. I think it did no such thing. It kept her from the real world. Why, if her mother had been around, I am certain Elizabeth would have married. It's such a tragedy."

"Tragedy seems to be an exaggeration," I said, leaning back into my seat. "She doesn't need to marry. She has money."

"And I would wager that she is unequipped to handle it," Edith said. "I suppose you will be learning that this winter."

The carriage turned down the winding road and the manor rose from the ground and into view.

It was grey, threaded together with brilliant green as vines crept up the walls, their sturdy brick holding even as roots pressed into them. We slowed as the road ended, stopping in front of the large entrance way.

I stepped out of the carriage, thanking the driver, my legs stiff from the journey and pleased to be put back to work. I hadn't seen the manor in years. When we were young my sisters were convinced it was haunted. We would run through the halls, hiding in closets and under couches, and I would search every nook and cranny for the hint of a ghost with whom I could become acquainted.

It didn't look any less haunted now, and Ms. Lancaster must not be particularly worried about the impression that it might be. The lawn was overgrown with yellow-green weeds that blew in the wind, and vines creeped up the stone walls.

Edith tutted her disapproval. "See? She doesn't even have the means to clean up her yard. Her father would be ashamed."

I had always loved the manor. I used to think it was a castle, with its round tower and high ceilings, pinnacles stretching into the sky. It was old, but felt even older than it was. It was large, but the more time you spent in it, the more it grew. Its floorboards creaked and shifted with the weather, bones elderly but far from brittle.

It felt abandoned, even as we inhabited it. It felt as if it was waiting for a long lost lord to return. It felt as if maybe the lord had returned, and the house had entombed him there, in its walls.

Now I know that this is part of the appeal. When Jack Lancaster purchased this estate fifty years ago, he must have felt such satisfaction -- this castle, this palace, was finally his. He no longer had to exist as a common man. He was like a king, even if he never had the power that a king wields.

I could imagine how intoxicating that would feel.

The driver carried my luggage towards the entrance. I hurried after him. I had meant to do it myself. We were no longer in civilized society. I was allowed to be seen lifting something heavier than a tea cup.

I burst through the doors and into the hallway.

The furniture and decor was contemporary. The bench in the foyer was a deep turquoise, and the rug Persian, with elaborate designs woven in jewel tones.

The house smelled like leaves and flowers. It wasn't musty, exactly. Instead, it smelled as if it had just been cleared of must a few minutes ago, but, like a child who has just bathed, was itching to undo the cleanliness.

Everything about the manor reached upwards, the ceilings, the double staircase, the white marble statues that adorned the hall.

"Emma! I'm delighted to see you!"

Ms. Elizabeth Lancaster descended the staircase, looking less delighted than anyone I had ever seen.

"And Edith, of course," Elizabeth said. "You look younger than the last time I saw you. Is that possible?"

Edit, in spite of herself, smiled at the compliment.

I gathered my skirts in my hands and curtsied.

"Ms. Lancaster. Thank you for your hospitality."

"No need for formalities. We're to be friends this winter, are we not?"

I looked up at her.

She was a woman who held her own beauty at arms length, the way one would hold a particularly aggressive animal. She was just north of fashionable. Her black dress didn't quite match her deep brown, wide-rimmed hat. Her spectacles had brilliant gold frames, but were smudged with fingerprints. Each of her hairs seemed to be striving for independence.

She had high cheekbones and brown eyes so dark it looked almost as if she had no irises at all. She looked older than she was, crows feet gracing the creases of her eyes, but the age didn't diminish her. Instead, it gave her the option of severity. Should she choose to give you a withering look, you may indeed wither.

Now, though, she was friendly, if apprehensive.

"We are to be friends... Beth..."

"Oh!" Elizabeth said, delighted. "I haven't been called Beth since I was a child."

"Apologies--"

"No!" Elizabeth said. "I said we are to be friends, and you confirmed it. Beth will be fine."

I disliked her analytical gaze. She dissected me, piece by piece, in a way I recognized. So many people in my life seemed certain they could perform a kind of psychic surgery on me. If they could just take me apart, then they could put me back together, new and improved.

Elizabeth wouldn't be any more successful than her predecessors, no matter what my parents might have thought. They sent me here to force me to confront the realities of my life without a husband. They refuse to understand that anything short of hell would be preferable.

"Shall I give you a tour?" Elizabeth asked.

"That would be lovely," Edith said, no doubt eager to search for more gossip in the nooks and crannies of this house.

"Let me see -- JOSEPH!"

Her yell made Edith and I both jump. An older man of about sixty walked calmly and swiftly down the stairs.

"Would you mind grabbing their coats?" Elizabeth asked.

"Of course, ma'am," Joseph said, giving her a shallow bow.

He was handsome for his age.He had a strong jawline and thick black hair. He was nearly as short as I was, and I was not tall.

He took the thick wool coat from my shoulders, and then assisted my aunt with hers.

Houses, I had noticed, are engineered not only as shelter but as a respite from the very concept of the natural world. The more removed from the mud and dirt of nature, the more successful the house.While the natural world has its dangers, I find that as humans we have veered away from logic in our understanding of it. Hygienic has become a moral concept instead of a medical one. Hogs, for instance, use mud to clean themselves, and we are as prone to disease, passing sickness back and forth with farm animals as if we are no more civilized than they.

The manor was,technically, a wonderful example of human achievement. The gothic nature of the architecture suggested that not only have men distinguished themselves from other animals, but that they did this with the understanding that it was,ultimately, futile. The towers reached into the heavens, knowing they would never get there, a tower of Babel that God felt no need to topple.

I don't know why I felt at home here. I always had.

"I don't keep a large staff, since it is only me," Elizabeth said as they walked past the entryway into the hall. "Just Joseph, my cook, Elena, and two maids. If there is reason for me to host anyone, I call in hands from the local tavern."

"Surely there are better servants to be had," Edith said

Elizabeth continued as if she heard nothing. "I hope that will be acceptable for you, Emma."

She said my name with caution, as if forcing herself into familiarity.

"It will be fine, thank you, Ms. Lancaster."

At home we had one servant, Dana, who was underpaid and overworked. The women of our family took turns cooking, and though it was not a task I enjoyed, I was capable enough. I had never had a lady in waiting, and I can't imagine why I'd want one.

We entered the parlor room, and I let out an involuntary gasp.

The room itself was beautiful. Emerald green furniture was placed around a coffee table with gilded edges. The bookshelves that lined the walls strained upwards towards the high ceilings.Spines of deep reds and navy blues advertised the books' contents in gold and silver print. A ladder was required to reach the highest books, and even that was carved out of a red cedar.

However, what drew my attention was the painting over the fireplace.

It must have been ten feet tall, at minimum. It portrayed a woman in velvet clothing, towering over a small village. Her facial expression was obscured by the clouds. The villagers at her feet looked up at her, some with awe, and others with anger.

"What an... interesting piece of art," Edith said.

I could feel Elizabeth's eyes on me as I examined the painting. The woman's posture was over-corrected, her shoulders back and her chin high. But there was something about her that seemed delicate, as if she was holding herself together through will alone.

One of the men was running back to his hut. Another had already retrieved a pitchfork.

Elizabeth once again ignored Edith. "Do you like it?" She asked me.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know that "like" was the correct word to use. My response to it was visceral. I felt uncomfortably drawn to it. But it was as close as language would allow.

"Yes," I said, breathless.

"Hmmmm."

Elizabeth turned to Edith.

"If you'd like, I could get Joseph to make some tea. The journey was long, and I'm sure you'd like to rest. I can show Miss Cooper around."

"Oh, yes, that would be lovely," Edith said. "I didn't want to complain but it is a large house and I really don't think I need a tour at the moment."

"JOSEPH!"

The yell was no less surprising than before. Joseph appeared in the room suddenly, as if an apparition.

"Do you mind making the lady some tea?" Elizabeth asked.

"Of course not. Follow me, madam," Joseph said.

And then I was alone with Elizabeth.

"It's funny," I said, "When I was a child we explored every inch of this lace. We were looking for ghosts."

Elizabeth looked at me, her expression unreadable. Her gaze, like the painting, was unsettling.

"Did you ever find any?" Elizabeth asked.

"Of course not," I replied.

Elizabeth nodded, her expression serious. "I would suggest refraining from any such adventure in the future. Shall we see your room?"

And then she was sweeping out of the room.

I hurried after her, curiosity sufficiently piqued.

[dyketectivecomics]

Retrieval - Ch. 11

SURPRISE BITCHES. BETCHA THOUGHT YOU’D SEE THE LAST OF THIS.

(Read on AO3) (No actually, maybe go ahead and reread everything on ao3, since its been SO DAMN LONG ooooof) (also everyone keep in mind that the chap under the cut doesnt have italic edits in bc its 3k & also 1 am and i don't have time for that. just go ahead and read it on ao3 unless you already have an idea of whats going on at this stage in the fic lmao)

@squiddybeifong it’s ur turn finally, love <3, def take ur time and i cant WAIT to see your thoughts on this haha 

...

Grotesque as each of the demons were, Raven remembered barely keeping them straight from one another. All sharp teeth and disfigured skin, some sported facsimiles of regency fashion, while others chose to hide themselves in as few layers as possible. Try as she might, she recalled the eyes most clearly, in hues of reds, oranges and yellow, all burning with the sins of the souls they had claimed over the eons.

The one who had called her here, a brother without a name. (At least without a name yet, as that would come a decade later, when she most needed to name and defeat these demons with Titans by her side.) No, this demon that could not be properly named stood to his full height, towering over the others as he snapped his claw-like fingers to gain their attention, silencing their jeering at the destruction the portal showed.

"Enough of that nonsense," he droned, as if somehow bored of the chaos and devastation. "While Father is distracted, we have but one chance to settle this nasty business. What are we to do with sister dearest?"

There was much grumbling among the demons as they took seats around this circle, the visage of Azarath's last moments disappearing from view forever with a distinct pop and crackle. Raven could feel once again the ghost of Zatanna's reassuring hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently in empathy. She couldn't tell if it was better, or worse, never knowing what had transpired.

She certainly knew more than before, just enough to get a clearer picture than so many years of guesswork had lead her down. But it left a hollow feeling in her chest, as those certainties were closed off forever now.

Maybe it had been too much to hope for, to know exactly what Azarath's last moments were like. Or maybe it was too cruel to wish for the burden of such knowledge, even when one had prepared themselves for it. How disheartening, to have gone to so much trouble, only to be stopped so short.

"We can't kill her, much as I'm loathe to share any more 'an I already have to with you lot," a smaller demon piped up to Raven's left. She'd forgotten, in her reverie, just where her attention should truly lay. "But that doesn't mean we can't have our fun."

There was a murmur through the group, a mixed reaction but no true agreements or dissents. Raven could feel something swelling up in her stomach, but she reached for Zatanna's hand on her shoulder, squeezing it back and quelling the feeling.

She knew she'd made it to Constantine's apartment relatively unscathed. Like rereading an old favorite book, she remembered the end even without needing to remember everything that occurred in between. Whatever they had in mind, try as they might have, these petty demons hadn't harmed her much. She was strong enough to survive it then, she was powerful enough to endure it now.

Though, with how the hellfire that was starting to play tricks on her eyes, a part of her wondered just how much longer she'd be forced to endure it. In the furthest reaches, it shone a bit too hot, blinding if she let her eyes stray there for too long.

"The important thing I want to know is; how much fun can we have without Trigon letting on about it? And without interfering too deeply with his plans?"

"Doesn't he need the girl as an emissary to Earth and other planes?" one quipped back, "That would mean we can't keep her here, not long at any rate."

"Then it'd be best to act soon, lest he send her away before we have-"

A low rumble went through the group, all collectively groaning as they felt the same call. Raven remembered hearing a voice, faint, as if it spoke through layers of cotton. It was strange to her then, but familiar now, the cockiness and sly flow of mocking decorum. Constantine's most casual of ways, of summoning sworn enemies forth, to make the most backhanded of bargains.

Though, some of what he was saying... didn't particularly seem to resonate with what would have been said in such circumstances. And out of the corner of her eye, Raven watched as that white-hot light broke through a stalactite or two, eating away at the scene. Inevitable, but much slower than before. She knew now, for certain, that time was limited, much as she'd fought successfully against it so far.

She could hold it off just a tad longer.

"The Hellblazer's onto us, gentlemen," one of the demons sighed, resigned to what was to come. "Any volunteers?"

The group laughed, and Raven remembered taking a few shy steps back, naively thinking this an opportunity to sneak away, before more than a few sets of eyes settled on her.

"Why not send our little sister to him?" the eldest sneered, "It's beneath us to answer such a droll summons. It would be amusing to see him throw her back to us like a fisherman does a minnow."

Laughter bubbled around Raven, too-wide smiles and menacing glints in eyes and teeth. The feeling of self-satisfied, low-burning rage and an anticipation for harm to come.

She knew, then, that anywhere they would want to send her, anywhere that she wasn't in control of sending herself to, would not be a place she'd want to go. And much too late, she tried to make a dash to get away.

She screamed as she felt sharp claws sinking into her arms and delighted laughter reached a fever pitch around her. Everything began growing much brighter and more charged than before, as her body was burning the last of this nightmarish high.

She watched as a few of her brothers slashed into the air around them, tearing reality itself apart as they searched for the best rift to send her tumbling through.

...

The air temperature dropped drastically as John felt his daughter's mood shift, something tightening in his chest and tears welling in his eyes. His heart hammered in his chest, fear at the forefront of it all. He glanced up to see Asa holding her own against Raven's projections better than he did, wiping away a droplet before focusing her hands, once more on checking Zatanna's aura.

"I call upon Saint Christopher, that he may protect in their travels..."

It was a long shot, but when a demonologist has exhausted all of the runes and rituals at his disposal, sometimes a hope and a prayer were all that were left. And Constantine was currently running down the long list of every deity and figure of power that he could scarcely remember.

The classic Catholic routes were always the first to go.

His tone took a more urgent tune as he watched his daughter clench her fists and let out an ear-splitting scream.

"I call upon Saint Michael, to protect in this battle..."

He could only hope that these prayers and practices weren't coming too late.

...

As Zatanna felt the chill of Raven's powers as the empath's consciousness finally awoke, the sorceress tried turning over a happier memory in her own mind.

Sending Raven back to reality in this state now wouldn't do them any good. Fear and anger and hate lingering on her soul. It would, at best, wreck John's apartment.

At worst, it could level New York.

As those demons, shadows of memories long past, opened that fateful portal to John's apartment, so similar and yet a striking difference to how it was now, answering a summons that none wanted to bother themselves with, Zatanna focused all her energy into channeling that memory of her own. One that she couldn't be sure Raven shared. It seemed so far away, and such a small thing.

Of a tiny seven-year-old, in her halloween costume, dressed as the most adorable witch San Francisco would ever see, and receiving a tickling of a lifetime as her mother teased her. The memory of peals of laughter from the sorceress and squeals of protest from the young empath rang in her ears, louder now than the demons laughter, that was slowly fading away from them as Raven's small form was sent through that portal. Zatanna could only do her best to follow close after her.

Slowly, her grip on the girl’s hand loosened, until she lost it completely in their free fall. The sorceress watched helplessly as Raven fell further down ahead of her, the memory still at the periphery of her own mind.

She could see as the portal closed, how time shifted everything inside of that apartment. The couch's color dimmed, showing its wear and its age. Grooves in the floor grew from so many rearrangements of furniture and space. She could see Constantine sitting watch over her and Raven's bodies, and noted that the Nightmare Nurse's aid had been enlisted.

And all too quickly, that vision faded.

As everything dimmed around her, she thought she could hear Raven's voice as she knew it now, deep throaty laughter bubbling out around it, replacing those high-pitched squeals from before.

Everything became blackness once more.

...

As laughter escaped from his daughter's lips, Constantine paid Asa's concerned protests no mind, rushing again to his daughter's side as her powers sparked electrically around them. That shift in the air, like ozone and pressure before a thunderstorm, was one he recognized when a too-sudden, too-extreme mood shift occurred for the empath. When her powers were stuck playing catch-up as they drifted from menacing shadows to dangerously cheery sparks.

"Raven, I need you to breathe for me, darling," he begged, "Find your center again, luv."

His focus was solely on his daughter, as her laughter slowly died, the snickers giving way to breathless gasps. When she began to still in his arms and as her breathing began to return back to normal, he finally registered the Nightmare Nurse's frantic cries.

"-She's not responding, John. Zatanna's not waking up."

...

"Give up?" Zatanna asked with a gleam in her eyes and a sly smile on her lips. The witch before her pouted, giving the most adorable glare that the sorceress had seen in her life.

"Never," she said, and her voice held all of the self-assurance of a spellcrafter well beyond her so few years of experience.

Zatanna only smiled wider. "You asked for it, then."

She tickled the little witch for a second time, laughing alongside her shouts and giggles. That accent that she was picking up from Constantine was more prominent, now that she’d spent the better part of the year with him. And it was positively adorable as well. "No! Mummy, stop!"

"Admit it!" she laughed, "Admit that you're the most adorable little witch!"

It was true, objectively speaking. The girl's dress and hat were tailored with kitschy patches, buttons that seemed comically large and cartoonish pockets that were even bigger than one would think. All of the makings of a perfect Halloween costume. All she was missing, at the moment, were practical tennies for trick-or-treating.

This was where one of several points of argument for the evening had begun, as Raven had insisted, in her seven-year-old wisdom, that her dance flats were needed to complete the look. Something Zee had been unsuccessful, thus far, in swaying her opinion on.

At least until she’d started the teasing, and followed through on her threat of tickling.

"I'm-" she was breathless, gasping for air, but giggling all between, "I'm- not! I'm a- I'm a scary-! A scary witch!"

With that final shout, Zatanna paused in her tickling as Raven sent a shock through her skin. A light zap of her powers, but nothing like the unsettling chill she had felt earlier when the girl refused to admit to fears and doubts about the holiday festivities her mother had planned. It was a welcome change, if unexpected.

"You're right," Zee chuckled in assent, carefully picking the girl up and carrying her from the room, "And since you're clearly the most terrifying thing out and about tonight, that must mean you'll be able to protect me from all of the ghouls and goblins out there tonight?"

The girl puffed out her chest, grinning wide as she adjusted her hat. "No monsters will get past me, mummy! I promise!"

The magician could only smile and hold the girl in a tight embrace. "Thanks, Blackbird. I feel safer already. But you know what will help me feel-?"

But just as the sorceress set the girl down again, before she had even finished the question as she turned around in this fairly mundane memory, she could feel that sense of presence slipping. Her once familiar home in San Francisco fading away in a blur and a blank. An expanse before her that could be filled with anything.

This Raven wasn’t the one she entered this world with. Her daughter was no longer in this plane between consciousness and dreams, where memories made their home. 

And that terrifying reality was starting to settle in.

“-the most... safe?” she finished asking, in trepidation.

A shiver creeped quickly down her spine, as another memory took her away, unbidden.

…

“I have to go back for her,” the empath protested, sitting up at once as the Nightmare Nurse’s words fully registered. She felt the blood rush just as quickly away from her head, and lay back down immediately to stop the dizziness.

“You’d need at least an hour of recovery, kiddo,” Asa laughed bitterly, “At least you would, if you were human.”

“I’ll be fine in a minute. Just give me a second.”

“Like bleedin’ hell you’re going back,” John growled, “Asa, you hold ‘er, luv. I’ll be going in-”

“Dad, pots!” Her tone and intention had the brit slowly freezing right in place against his will. Try as he might to fight her, he never had quite the same level of resolve that Raven had. 

But, he supposed, that’s just how fathers and daughters seemed to operate. A father always willing to give his girl the world. And never being able to deny her, even when it was in her best interest.

“It has to be me, dad,” Raven sighed. “I pulled her in. I need to be the one to pull her out.”

Constantine swallowed the lump forming in his throat, teeth slow to unclench as he asked, “Promise me you’ll be safe? That you’ll get out soon as you reach her?”

Raven’s own indigo eyes leveled at his piercing blue ones, her stomach dropping as she lied, “I promise.”

…

She felt calmer when she opened her eyes again, her breathing shallow and soft, her body curled as tightly in on itself as she could stand. She felt a sharp pinch of happiness, and a dull sting of longing, when she heard her father’s voice. And she remembered, another small memory that had meant so much more to her over the years.

"Now just where did my princess run off to," Giovanni mused as he glanced around his daughter's room. He made extra sure not to take any special notice of some particularly lumpy and giggling pillows that lay on her bed.

"Hmm, how strange," he sighed with extra, cartoonish emphasis, "How odd that my daughter would learn to pull such a thorough disappearing act before I could teach her it myself. Alas!" He gave a cry, before falling back onto her bed. "Perhaps if I were to take a nap upon her bed, I could dream of where she has run off to!"

He adjusted himself carefully atop that oh-so-lumpy cushioning, leaning carefully back and poking at the pillows as she barely held in her snickering. "Now, if only these pillows weren't so lumpy and strange! Perhaps then my dreams might be clear." He put a bit more of his weight on it, yawning dramatically as he stretched his arms above his head. "But as long as Zatanna is not here, I don't see the harm-"

"I am here, daddy! I got you!" the young sorceress cried, laughing as she wiggled out from behind her father.

"Goodness! You have, indeed, my princess!" the magician laughed, bringing his daughter in close for a hug and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And I've missed you so! You must promise to teach me that trick before my next show!"

"Uh-uh, that one's a super-special... tersec?" the five-year-old turned the word over uncertainly, and Zatara only smiled as he applauded her attempt.

"Terces, my sun and stars. Repus laiceps terces." He booped her nose, and she giggled once more. With a whispered word and sleight of hand, he produced a diary with a lock, Zatanna's name embossed with ostentatious calligraphy, and smiled even wider as she went starry-eyed.

"You'll need a place to keep those sterces then, my darling."

The chorus of thank-yous that followed after were drowned out only by his own laughter as he returned her tight embrace.

The sorceress began to feel the weight of the memory weighing on her chest, however. A wistfulness as the laughter quickly became quiet cries. At first, she almost believed them to be cries for what she still mourned. But then everything shifted again.

“Give me the word, my sun and stars,” her father growled, “And I will make the boy regret his very-”

“Daddy, no,” she shook her head, “It’s not… It’s not his fault.”

“That is where you are wrong, my dear,” the old magician laughed, “It is always a boy’s fault. Unless he starts taking responsibility for it, then he is not truly a man.” He squeezed her hand tightly as he lifted her chin, making sure she was looking into his smiling eyes as he said, “And he is not worthy of your time, for that matter, either.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, before pulling her back in for another tight embrace.

Zatanna held desperately to this special kind of comfort that she hadn’t felt since her father had died.

[beyond-far-horizons]

How I Met Your Father...Part 2

With the Perfect Amulet taken and his legacy in jeopardy, Sparda marshals his forces to find the mysterious blonde thief, but she may have stolen more than just the Amulet...

My headcanon on how Eva and Sparda met. Please forgive any liberties, I have a fertile imagination and am not familiar with every aspect of the games. I also recommend listening to Hans Zimmer’s soundtrack to Angels and Demons whilst reading to give atmosphere.

Part One here

Heaven itself seemed to strike him as Sparda was forced to use Rebellion’s power to cut the Heavenly Seal in half. His true flesh writhed in agony beneath his human skin and his eyes were squeezed shut to avoid being permanently blinded. But over the force of divine retribution he heard the breaking of glass and both cursed and saluted the woman for her daring. Summoning his inner strength the Dark Knight briefly transformed into his real body to push the residual waves of the Seal back. Every one of them carried the force of her contempt.

That was quite a woman…

Shaking them off, he healed himself and let his human self return as he raced to the broken window and peered down. Shouts and the squeals of horses and cars told him of the commotion below but his demon senses confirmed she was gone, having miraculously survived the fall.

He let out a chuckle and shook his head, before turning around and taking in the devastation of the room. Yamato stood imperious on its stand but the rest of the artefacts were everywhere, the tapestries falling from the walls and the Chaldean Codex mere pages scattered across the floor.

That’s one more she owes me. He thought, running a hand through his silver hair. That’s the only surviving copy…

“My Lord!”

Ah, here comes the cavalry…

A contingent of his elite Guard stormed in headed by Crassus.

“My Lord.” He repeated, giving Sparda a deep bow. “Are you well? What happened here?”

“Quite well Crassus, thank you.” He fingered the bullet holes and burns on his favourite coat. It was divine work so he couldn’t salvage it. “My attire less so. Ask Manning to retrieve a change for me.”

“At once.” The commander nodded and another soldier raced off to find his butler, although given Manning’s demonic origins he was probably aware of the situation already. Sparda valued his humans but an infernal servant could be infinitely more useful at times.

“The guards at the back entrance reported a disturbance.” Crassus glanced at the shattered window and general disarray. “Was anything stolen? I take full responsibility.”

“Unnecessary, my friend.” Sparda replied. “The thief was prodigiously talented.” He traced his chest where Rebellion’s wound had healed.

“Thief?” Crassus said, aghast, and the Guards’ eyes widened.

Sparda summoned a scabbard for his claymore and placed it over his back. “Yes. The Perfect Amulet is gone.”

There were gasps. Sparda turned to them.

“It was a woman. Long, blonde hair in a braid, brown eyes, pale skin, dressed in black although I suspect she would have changed by now.”

She was too crafty by half to remain in recognisable clothes, if, of course, she was still able to move. And he would bet this whole treasury she was.

“Early twenties, I think.” He continued, pacing. “Trained in stealth and magical techniques, and given the state of the men outside the vault, I would say proficient with marshal arts as well as firearms.”

He shouldn’t have made that quip about Yamato to her, that had been tacky…

“We will put out a search immediately, my Lord. She will be found and the Amulet retrieved.”

The Guard snapped to attention behind their commanding officer.

“She wasn’t acting alone.” This was too fast, too well planned…I would have sensed scrying or a previous intrusion to scout. That meant footwork…human spies…“I want them found and I want them alive. Be aware they may possess the same capability as this assailant.”

Crassus saluted him. “They will not escape.”

“I put my faith in you, Commander.”

Crassus bowed and turned to go.

“Crassus? I trust you to do this with your usual discretion. The populace is on edge as it is.”

Half the reason for this damned recital had been to placate them…not that he didn’t enjoy the spectacle…

“Of course, my Lord.”

Boots pounded across the floor as the Guard sped off replaced by House soldiers and trusted servants tidying up the mess. Darion and Alecto had thankfully been attended to, but were no doubt going to be harangued by Niobe who looked ready to skewer them on her way past.

She dropped to one knee. “My Lord, I take full responsibility for this debacle.” She drew her sword. “If you wish for my life in recompense-”

“Captain,” he interrupted her, “you, Crassus and the rest may offer me deep and grovelling apologies to your heart’s content when this is all over, but for now I require the expertise and focus of my House soldiers.”

She came to attention with her usual alacrity.

“Have the building searched discreetly in case of accomplices, while the rest of you aid Crassus. I want Eleonora sent to me in my study in forty minutes as well.”

He needed his spymaster to confirm his suspicions and that saddened him. Which of his loyal and capable staff had been compromised?

“It will be done.”

Kalina Ann rushed in as Niobe left, still clad in her opera gown with its spectacular train flowing behind her.

“My Lord, what happened? I heard you were attacked!”

“I’m fine, Kalina.” He replied. Anyone would think Mundus and his legions had appeared. After all she, Niobe and Crassus all knew what he really was, it would take more than one human mage to achieve what the hoards of Hell could not. “Now why have you left the audience chamber? Our guests will be concerned.”

“I finished my aria.” The slight petulance in her voice told him he had been missed. “I was worried when you disappeared.” She looked about, dark eyes wide. “Who did this? They say the Amulet was taken?”

“Yes, ” he said, “now forgive me, but I must make efforts to retrieve it.”

“I can help.” She said, catching his arm. He glanced at her hand and she blushed, letting it fall. “You trained me well, my Lord. I can find this thief.”

“That would be an excellent idea - give them the second ingredient to break my spell, if that is their plan.”

The woman’s face flashed before his eyes again. With her sentiments, it was unlikely…so what was her game? She acted as if he was the villain, even when she knew his real name…

“I wouldn’t fall so easily into their hands.” Kalina was protesting.

Sparda sighed and focused his attention on her. She was about the age of the thief but despite equal passion, Kalina lacked the blonde woman’s maturity. That was his fault, he had pampered her too much.

“I do not doubt your abilities, my dear.” He said as he glanced up at the only tapestry which remained intact. Siriana’s transcendent face was forever a rebuke to him. Ten thousand years could pass and he would never forget what it felt like to plunge the Force Edge into her heart. “But I promised your ancestress two thousand years ago that I would protect her line in perpetuity.” He turned back to Kalina. “I cannot truly honour that pledge if I send you directly into danger now can I?”

“You intend to coddle me my entire life, then? She retorted, then bowed her head, the diamonds of her hair-net catching the light. “I’m sorry, my Lord. I only wish to serve you.”

“I know.” He said, tucking a stray lock of black hair behind her ear. “Then serve me in this. Return to the audience chamber for now and keep them quiet. Afterwards you can scry. Our absence will have been noted and sometimes diplomacy is a more potent weapon than the blade. And keep your ears open. I want to know all the gossip. Someone is behind this and they don’t just wield guns and spells.”

Her eyes widened again and she nodded, expression firming. “My Lord.” She said and swept out of the room, shoulders squared.

Sparda couldn’t help a slight smile. He would never have offspring but she was the closest thing he had to a daughter.

“Your Majesty.” A voice intoned in his mind.

“Leave me, all of you.” Sparda said to the remaining servants. When they closed the doors he turned as a skeletally thin old man emerged from the wall with a purple overcoat and new shirt. “Your Majesty? You always call me that.”

“I know my duty. You are the King of Hell whether you choose to acknowledge it or not.” The old man replied, holding out the clothing. “Do you require my assistance?”

“I think the King of Hell can manage to put on his own clothing.” Sparda chuckled as he took them. “And hiding my true identity should be your duty, but then we’ve had this conversation for centuries so there is no point in me arguing the matter yet again.”

A simple transformation had him back to his usual crisp self. He breathed a sigh of contentment. He was vain, there was no doubt, but vanity was a small sin for a devil of his rank.

Manning reached for the discarded items he’d let fall to the floor.

“I’ll keep those.” Sparda said quickly. “That will be all, apart from I need you to search the mansion. Let me know of any irregularities. ”

Manning raised a jutting eyebrow of white hair at his first statement but his creased yellow face smoothed at the second. “It has been done, Sire, there is nothing now the intruder has left.”

“Did you sense anything more at the time?”

“Nothing but a vague itch.” He wrinkled his large, hooked nose. “I swam through the levels but could not pinpoint it until a quarter of an hour ago.”

“When she dropped the spell.” Sparda nodded. “It was powerful work.” I’ll need to reroute Niobe’s troops then. The Amulet must be found!

Manning curled over himself, elongating his arms, hands and torso in supplication. It would have been freakish if Sparda hadn’t lived in the Underworld and gotten used to far worse. “Forgive me, your Majesty.” The butler said ponderously. “I should have seen through the enchantment.”

“Not you as well.” Sparda chided, waving a hand. “You confirmed my own feelings and I couldn’t penetrate the spell either. I just knew they would end up here. No matter.”

“I will keep you informed, your Majesty.” Manning said as he melded back into the plasterwork.

Finally alone again Sparda looked down at the ruined clothing then back at the shattered window.

So much trouble caused so quickly…He nudged a glass shard aside with a polished boot. I should be out there leading the search. That is my duty.

Capable as they were, he could find the golden-haired culprit a lot faster than his Guard or even Kalina with her ancestress’s seer abilities. In fact he could have leapt out of the window as soon as he recovered from the Seal and likely caught up with her.

So why didn’t you? A voice that sounded too much like Mundus said. Didn’t you enjoy the encounter?

The woman’s smile, her hair, the look in her eyes when she threw Rebellion all came back to him.

I always enjoy flirting with beautiful women. He thought and cursed himself and his wretched analytical mind that wasn’t going to leave it at that. He needed to act, Siriana’s legacy was at stake! Instead here he was navel-gazing, but he couldn’t stop the memories.

“Now I’ve given you my name, I believe it’s time for you to give me yours, Lady…?”

Her face in that moment…The dawning realisation, the abject horror…

Then the transmutation into iron conviction.

“I don’t care who you are or what you do to me. Humanity deserves to be free of your taint!”

Sparda closed his eyes. He had been alive for a long, long time. He had seen humankind rise and fall like waves of wheat to the harvest, but he had rarely beheld that quality of soul. It shone from her, far more radiant than her mortal body. Eternal and untouchable, it was a spark of the Divine he was forever denied.

How he hungered for it…

Glass crunched under his hands and he looked down surprised at the blood spurting between his fingers where he had grasped the window. A golden hair had caught itself on the jagged edge and curled into the breeze as if pointing in her direction. His pulse quickened.

That calibre of spirit could feed him for a century, more… He wouldn’t need all the power he had locked away in the Abyss if he had that, if he had her.

His human form flickered and fangs drew blood from his lips.

“I will not give into this.” He said and marched away from the broken panes. It had been millennia since he’d felt such temptation. He had left it all behind along with the Prince of Darkness and his ilk. Hadn’t he woken to justice and seen the suffering he had caused? Sworn to make a difference? Protected Humanity!

“You are a demon, Sparda,” Mundus had hissed, “just like your brethren. This sin of righteousness, so vile even I cannot feed on it, will wash off you eventually. All you need is the right trigger.”

He sucked in a breath and laughed at himself this time, the so called King of Hell afraid of one mortal woman.

You wouldn’t have to devour her…The voice wheedled. If she surrendered to you, body and soul, it could be pleasurable for you both.

“Enough!” He shouted to the empty chamber, the echoes of his wrath coming back to him.

Crassus would find her and put an end to this nonsense and if not…Sparda squeezed his fist together and looked up again at image of Siriana’s sacrifice. If not, I will show this woman that not all demons are a taint on humanity…

I’d be interested in your opinions on how I’ve woven in Lady’s mother and the different levels of Sparda’s character. I wanted him to be the suave, noble character we all admire but also wanted to see if he still struggled a bit with his demonic side especially when faced with the awesomeness that is Eva. #notalldemons lol I see Crassus btw as basically Credo. If I do set this in Fortuna (which I haven’t decided) then he could be Credo’s granddad or something! @fireeaglespirit and @awesomelychubby hope this lives up to Part 1!

[dfroza]

“gold perfected by fire, so that you can be truly rich.”

A line from Today’s reading of the Scriptures from John’s book of Revelation

[Christ’s Letter to Sardis]

Write the following to the messenger of the congregation in Sardis, for these are the words of the one who holds the seven Spirits of God and the seven stars:

I know all that you do and I know that you have a reputation for being really “alive,” but you’re actually dead! Wake up and strengthen all that remains before it dies, for I haven’t found your works to be perfect in the sight of my God. So remember all the things you’ve received and heard, then turn back to God and obey them. For if you continue to slumber, I will come to you like a thief, and you’ll have no idea at what hour I will come. Yet there are still a few in Sardis who have remained pure, and they will walk in fellowship with me in brilliant light, for they are worthy. And the one who experiences victory will be dressed in white robes and I will never, no never erase your name from the Book of Life. I will acknowledge your name before my Father and his angels. So the one whose heart is open let him listen carefully to what the Spirit is now saying to all the churches.

[Christ’s Letter to Philadelphia]

Write the following to the messenger of the congregation in Philadelphia, for these are the solemn words of the Holy One, the true one, who has David’s key, who opens doors that none can shut and who closes doors that none can open:

I know all that you’ve done. Now I have set before you a wide-open door that none can shut. For I know that you possess only a little power, yet you’ve kept my word and haven’t denied my name. Watch how I deal with those of the synagogue of Satan who say that they are Jews but are not, for they’re lying. I will make them come and bow down at your feet and acknowledge how much I’ve loved you. Because you’ve passionately kept my message of perseverance, I will also keep you from the hour of proving that is coming to test every person on earth. But I come swiftly, so cling tightly to what you have, so that no one may seize your crown of victory. For the one who is victorious, I will make you to be a pillar in the sanctuary of my God, permanently secure. I will write on you the name of my God and the name of the city of my God—the New Jerusalem, descending from my God out of heaven. And I’ll write my own name on you. So the one whose heart is open let him listen carefully to what the Spirit is now saying to all the churches.

[Christ’s Letter to Laodicea]

Write the following to the messenger of the congregation in Laodicea, for these are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation:

I know all that you do, and I know that you are neither frozen in apathy nor fervent with passion. How I wish you were either one or the other! But because you are neither cold nor hot, but lukewarm, I am about to spit you from my mouth. For you claim, “I’m rich and getting richer—I don’t need a thing.” Yet you are clueless that you’re miserable, poor, blind, barren, and naked! So I counsel you to purchase gold perfected by fire, so that you can be truly rich. Purchase a white garment to cover and clothe your shameful Adam-nakedness. Purchase eye salve to be placed over your eyes so that you can truly see. All those I dearly love I unmask and train. So repent and be eager to pursue what is right. Behold, I’m standing at the door, knocking. If your heart is open to hear my voice and you open the door within, I will come in to you and feast with you, and you will feast with me. And to the one who conquers I will give the privilege of sitting with me on my throne, just as I conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne. The one whose heart is open let him listen carefully to what the Spirit is saying now to the churches.

The Book of Revelation, Chapter 3 (The Passion Translation)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 14th chapter of 2nd Chronicles that documents the life & times of King Asa who succeeded King Abijah:

[King Asa]

Abijah died and was buried with his ancestors in the City of David. His son Asa became the next king.

For ten years into Asa’s reign the country was at peace.

Asa was a good king. He did things right in God’s eyes. He cleaned house: got rid of the pagan altars and shrines, smashed the sacred stone pillars, and chopped down the sex-and-religion groves (Asherim). He told Judah to center their lives in God, the God of their fathers, to do what the law said, and to follow the commandments. Because he got rid of all the pagan shrines and altars in the cities of Judah, his kingdom was at peace. Because the land was quiet and there was no war, he was able to build up a good defense system in Judah. God kept the peace.

Asa said to his people, “While we have the chance and the land is quiet, let’s build a solid defense system, fortifying our cities with walls, towers, gates, and bars. We have this peaceful land because we sought God; he has given us rest from all troubles.” So they built and enjoyed prosperity.

Asa had an army of 300,000 Judeans, equipped with shields and spears, and another 280,000 Benjaminites who were shield bearers and archers. They were all courageous warriors.

Zerah the Ethiopian went to war against Asa with an army of a million plus three hundred chariots and got as far as Mareshah. Asa met him there and prepared to fight from the Valley of Zephathah near Mareshah. Then Asa prayed to God, “O God, you aren’t impressed by numbers or intimidated by a show of force once you decide to help: Help us, O God; we have come out to meet this huge army because we trust in you and who you are. Don’t let mere mortals stand against you!”

God defeated the Ethiopians before Asa and Judah; the Ethiopians ran for their lives. Asa and his men chased them as far as Gerar; so many of the Ethiopians were killed that there was no fight left in them—a massacre before God and his troops; Judah carted off loads of plunder. They devastated all the towns around Gerar whose people were helpless, paralyzed by the fear of God, and looted the country. They also attacked herdsmen and brought back a lot of sheep and camels to Jerusalem.

The Book of 2nd Chronicles, Chapter 14 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Thursday, february 11 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible, along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

A post by John Parsons that takes a look at the 9th Commandment:

Shalom friends, I am continuing to discuss each of the Ten Commandments since they are related to our Torah reading for this week.... The Ninth Commandment prohibits swearing falsely against your neighbor in matters of law and civil proceedings, but, on a deeper level, it implicitly indicates the responsibility to be a witness of the truth at all times. Note that the Hebrew word for "truth" (emet) is composed from the first, the middle, and the last letters of the Hebrew Alphabet, thus indicating that it encompasses the first things, the last things, and everything in between. Thus, in relation to our neighbor (who is really everyone), we are to be truthful and bear witness to the truth in all our moments of life.

https://hebrew4christians.com/

2.10.21 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

February 11, 2021

The Living and the Written Word

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1)

The holy Scriptures and the person of our Lord Jesus Christ are so inseparably bound together that whatever calls into question the integrity and authority of one correspondingly casts aspersions on the other. Let us not be guilty of saying that the written Word and the incarnate Word are in all aspects the same, but the Bible does clearly reveal Christ as “the Word... made flesh, [who] dwelt among us” (John 1:14). “And his name is called The Word of God” (Revelation 19:13).

In carefully worded arguments, Christ time and again called attention to the fact that the teachings of the Old Testament Scriptures were actually teaching about Him. “Search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of me....For had ye believed Moses, ye would have believed me; for he wrote of me. But if ye believe not his writings, how shall ye believe my words?” (John 5:39, 46-47). “If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead” (Luke 16:31).

Therefore, those who diligently search the Scriptures find in them sufficient testimony to Christ, and where there is faith in the witness of Scripture, there will be faith in Christ and His words. But if men reject the testimony of Scripture, they will not even be convinced by His miraculous resurrection from the dead.

Christ claimed that all of Scripture pointed to Him. On the road to Emmaus, He taught that all three popular divisions of the Old Testament traced one progressive Messianic revelation. To understand the New Testament, we must know the Old, for both tell the same story, each amplifying the other. They are forever inseparable. JDM

An email from Glenn Jackson:

February 11th

* In Heaven no tears will be shed, for God will wipe all tears from our eyes. "There shall be no death, neither sorrow nor crying nor pain." How difficult to imagine such a changed world! Tears are the sad heritage of this life. Sorrow and pain flow from a thousand sources and deepen, widen, and darken earth's sorrow. Our sweetest relationships give birth to our greatest sorrows. Our distresses often flow from our joys. Death reigns. All this will be changed, and everything that gives pain and sorrow will be barred from Heaven forever. How bright the eyes undimmed by a sorrowful tear! How strong and free our souls and bodies will be, utter and eternal strangers to pain! How bright and joyous our hearts with never a cloud or a sorrow. How full of the richest life, untouched by decay and unshadowed by death, Heaven will be! All things are to be made new. There will be no marks of age, no common things, and no freshened or repainted old things.

All things will be absolutely new. A new world, a new life, a new career, a new history, a new environment, a new employment, and a new destiny - all things will be new. World dreams, pictures, poetry, fiction, and music have all failed to give the idea of that new world and its marvellous life. To live there is rapture. Its climax is, "He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be My son" (Revelation 21:7). It is the wonder and spectacle of angels. Type and shadow, precept and promise, both in the Old and New Testaments, are tokens and seals of the saints' inheritance after death.

No truth is more necessary to man and more in accordance with God's character, none more necessary to his glory, than the doctrine of Heaven. An eternal Heaven of purity and bliss through endless years is a doctrine that enables man and honours God. The existence of Heaven and its matchless perfection is a truth based upon the advent, person and work of Jesus Christ. Christ is the way to Heaven.

...."In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also"....John 14:2-3 KJV

[etcwrites]

Wait for me at your Fingertips

Lancelot Week Day 3 @lancelotweek

Prompt: earth/space

Rating: Explicit

Status: Ongoing

Summary:

Altea Ballet and Dance Studios is a prestigious school, housing at least hundred students and dancers. This year determined to honor their roots and show their strength, they will be staging an original work: The Story of Earth and Space.

And Lotor...

Lotor just wants to be left alone.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: New Event and a Stranger

“Alright, everyone!” Coran’s voice called through the studio, beckoning and receiving attention from various dancers as he moved through the rows, a glint in his eye. “Come closer! Yes! Can everyone come towards the front, please? C’mon, huddle up!”

Lotor eased himself back to a right up position, his leg still over the bar while he watched the older man gather up other dancers. Carefully exhaling, he pulled his leg off the bar and unhurriedly made his way towards the crowd. It wasn’t unusual for Coran to ask for a meeting in the morning. Enthusiastic and quirky, it was almost his tradition to call for the dancers and give them a loose plan for the day. No, the unusual part was the extra presence of two new faces.

Standing towards the back, Lotor tried to keep his curiosity from showing on his face, eyes momentarily focusing on the new comers. They were not precisely strangers. Lotor presumed nearly every dancer in the studio knew them in one way or another. It was simply unexpected to see them in person and together nonetheless.

Towards the left stood a thin pale man, with his bald head and incredible height, he almost resembled a white stick. Through experience Lotor knew his voice to be as high as his body, his weird accent making it almost impossible for other people to understand him. However, among students and other dancers he was regarded with affection, even nicknamed as “”Bibi” And even though Lotor never had a chance to work with him, he had heard from the others how helpful the man can be, with his solid support on technique and choreography.

Standing towards the right was an all too familiar figure for Lotor, and probably nearly to every other dancer in the room. With brilliant blue eyes and dark skin, her thick hair tamed into a braid Allura looked as fierce as the day they’ve met. However there was a new wave of determination in her set of shoulders, a strange glint in her eyes as she regarded the group of dancers.

“Alright!” Coran’s voice boomed. With a few steps he took his place between the new comers and with a loud clap he turned to address them. “As you may have noticed already, we have two guests today with us!” Turning to his right Coran gave a small smile to the other man. “Bibi has agreed to join today’s session and hopefully he’ll continue to give us his support.”

Receiving a tiny incomprehensible affirmation from the man, Coran turned to his left, voice turning softer with emotion. “And you may know Allura Altea, our current owner.”

A few affirmative noises, smiles and murmurs later, Coran opened his arms wide. “We have gathered here to give you a new announcement. This term we are planning on putting together a new show, an original work with visionary choreographies and incredible scores.”

An original work? And here he was thinking they were going to work on a re-interpretation of a classic like Nutcracker. Much like him, Lotor could feel the surprise among the others, dancers falling quiet and almost immediately turning hungry at the new prospect.

“This-” Coran continued, turning towards Allura to catch her eye. “ - has been an impending project for some time but we believe this year is the right time to do it!”

Stopping he gave a nod to the woman, his voice rising in a second. “Now, I think it would be best to leave the word to Allura.” Gesturing with his hands, Coran took a step back to leave the appropriate space.

“Dancers of Altea, “ Allura started, a smile decorating her lips while determination stayed consistent in her eyes. The formal way she addressed them didn’t go unnoticed as all dancers focused their attention on their boss. “I understand this announcement may come too hasty for some of you. It may even seem too ambitious to hope to finish up an original work in less than a year but since the starting days of this studio, this play has been my father’s biggest wish.”

Lotor couldn’t help but go tense over her words, his thoughts going ahead himself, his brain straining to connect the needed pieces, to understand.

Allura’s father? Alfor? What did he have to do with the play?

It couldn’t be -

“Since the beginning of Altea Ballet and Dance Studios we’ve had the inspiration and groundwork for this production. A play that is neither a full ballet or a free style dance but a mash up, hoping to bring together the best elements in all dance styles to tell a story about differences, about acceptance and peace. The story of Earth and Space.”

This time Lotor couldn’t control his surprise, a sharp inhale filling his lungs as the buzz from other dancer’s filled the silence.

Earth and Space!

He knew that story, or at least he remembered a version of it. For a second memory flashed before his eyes…

Honevra dancing across the white surface of the studio, her arms long and elegant, sun playing tricks on her dress as she moved from one turn to another and to another…

“This project has been my father’s greatest wish and although it is sad that he won’t be able to see it now, it is my wish to bring it back to life. I hope it will inspire you as well as it has inspired us. Thank you.”

Lotor turned his head away, looking down at his white tense knuckles.

 *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“No, no, no… There is no other explanation, you must be an angel!”

A few amused giggles

“Seriously where do you hide your wings?”

Lotor raised his head from his stretch, gaze orienting towards the group of girls completing their warm up, only to land on a –

A stranger?

He pulled his legs in, pushing his heels together and slowly working on loosening his thigh muscles, mind immediately taking up the challenge to identify the stranger. Their studio was not small one by no means and even though he mostly tried to keep to himself, Lotor still knew other dancers in one way or another. Though this guy… he hadn’t even seen him in the corridors. The guy didn’t even look like a ballet dancer…

A few more giggles and the girls got up to leave, deserting the newcomer. For a few seconds the other looked entirely devastated and Lotor almost felt sorry for him. Almost…

“You know…you should have told me I had no chance before I humiliated myself!”

Lotor raised his head, one of his brows rising as he regarded the other. But the stranger was looking away, his gaze fixed on the door where the dancers he just made a pass at were engulfed in a tight hug, a few petite kisses shared between them.

“It’s your own fault for not observing.”

In an instant stranger’s gaze was fixed on him.

“Ahh, how was I supposed to know?” he lamented. “It’s not like people have availability signs on them. I mean I was ready to fight for attention for all sorts of boyfriends but girlfriends??.. I didn’t count for that.”

Lotor exhaled slowly, forcing his thighs to stretch with applying force over his knees. “Maybe, you should try waiting for a few days before flirting.” he suggested, attention once again turning towards the satisfying burn in his muscles.

“Yeah, no can do! I’m all about seizing the opportunity”

When he looked up the guy was giving him a smug smile.

What an idiot

….

Cute though…

“You are new around here.” Lotor stated, forcing himself to look away and control his wayward thoughts.

“Ah, yes. I joined after hearing about this new project, Earth and Space. You know?”

Lotor’s shoulders tensed momentarily, his fingers digging into his feet. Then slowly he commanded his body to relax, legs stretching forward. “Yes, I am familiar with it.”

“Well, I really want a role in it! From what I have seen so far, it sounds amazing! It would be great to get a major position in it!”

"Can you even do lifts?"

Even though he hadn’t meant it to be hostile Lotor couldn’t help but be suspicious.

The...boy in front of him looked tall and lean, a bit towards the scrawny side, seemingly lost in a bundle of wool clothes in various stages of usage.  Not exactly the kind of guy you would want to lift you during a full house performance.

Something akin to hurt passed through the other's face only to be replaced by a thousand watt smile. "Of course! Don't be mistaken! They used to call me Mr.Muscle in my previous campaign."

Lotor raised one of his eyebrows, amusement bleeding into his voice. "Mr. Muscle, hmm? Isn't that the name of a cleaning product?"

This time there was definitely a frown on the boy's face.

Adorable... 

"That's beside the point!" He argued. "I can lift; there is nothing you have to concern yourself with!"

Lotor raised his chin, for a second, his eyes searching the other's pretty blues. No, he concluded. No, he couldn’t afford to be invested, not now...

"Very well" he replied making sure his tone conveyed his dismissal and distrust before climbing to his feet and turning his back to start on his clean up.

Behind him he could feel the other man's frustration, irritation compelling him to argue but in mere seconds a female voice carried through the studio. "Lance!"

Sneaking a glance over his shoulder Lotor noticed the elegant figure of Allura beside the door, soon to be joined by the new comer.

Most interesting… Allura and -

Lance... Lotor committed the information to memory, beautiful blue eyes and soft looking skin flashing before in his mind. Then his gaze took in the countless other dancers filling the room, all talented, all ambitious.

Competition.

No... No matter how pretty the temptation was, it was not the time to be invested…especially if the boy was connected to Allura...

 *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Stop, drop, and roll, baby. You are on fire.”

Lotor turned his head in surprise, muscles staying taut as he continued his stretch over the bar, head lined against his spread leg and long hair bundled up into a loose bun.

"Such eloquence…” he murmured, trying to keep his face neutral.

“Your name is Lotor, right? I’m Lance by the way…”

“I know….Was that your very best line?" 

Lance blinked for a second, a frown creasing the skin between his eyebrows. "Hey! I’m trying, alright?! " he blurted, at least that is what Lotor thought happened because Lance looked as surprised at his reaction as him. 

He pushed his body, slowly letting his arms reach up and stretch towards the ceiling. "My, my.." he murmured, giving the other a smirk. "You seem frustrated"

Lance scowled at him, still looking stubborn.

Cute...

Lotor gave himself a mental shake before he changed legs, arms reaching and fingers curling around his toes. As he felt the burn underside his leg, he slowly exhaled, attention briefly focusing on his body.

"Oh...wow! That's- ahh..."

Lotor looked up to see utter wonder in other's eyes, a slight hue coloring his smooth cheeks. With a smirk he pushed himself to a deeper stretch. "Yes?" he prompted, voice coming out a bit hoarse due to his position. Near him he could hear Lance's quick breath.

"You are really flexible, like...really- how do you even-"

And as Lotor sat down on the floor, opening up his legs and stretching towards the space between his legs, his upper body touching the floor, the boy grew eerily silent.

"Flexible? " Lotor repeated, amused. With a smooth practiced move he rose from the floor and after a final upwards stretch to complete his warm up, he turned towards Lance. "It is almost as if we are dancers"

Lance shook himself out of his stupor, a pout, a honest to universe a pout shaping his lips. "Not everyone can have your range of- uhm…motion" Then he must have realized his tone because he pulled himself tall to look up at Lotor. "No matter," he stated. "I have no intention of falling behind"

Challenge shone through the boy's eyes, a stubborn and greedy drive burning under his skin. For a second breath left Lotor's lungs, a sudden shiver travelling down his spine. He reminded himself that this boy was included in the middle of the campaign to include new style of dancers for the project and even now possibly struggled with his position.

“I see…" he acknowledged, for the first time really taking in the other’s posture. “One can only have respect against a drive to improve"

Lance blinked at him, for a second taken aback, then cocked one of his hands on his hip, a satisfied smirk spreading over his lips. "Soooo..." he dragged out, tone turning friendly.  "Since you can only show respect against my drive to improve, you wouldn't mind being my practice partner, yes?"

This time it was Lotor who was taken aback. Why someone as success hungry as Lance would want to team up with him? Didn’t he know? But Lance was continuing to talk.

"I know the regular spots are not fully determined yet and the choreographer says he needs to figure out a lot of kinks but-" Taking a fast breath a wistful expression settled across Lance's face. "The first contact sequence is almost ready and you need two dancers to work on that routine...and uhm.."

Lotor tried to keep his face neutral but he doubted he was successful in hiding his amusement, a strange fondness wrapping around his heart the more Lance rambled on.

"Uhm.." Lance sneaked a look at Lotor's body, a pink hue visible across his cheeks. "You really look fit for the spacefolk"

Lotor couldn’t help but smile, satisfaction curling low down his stomach, which was incredibly dangerous, unwise, and possibly disastrous when he was already in uncertain circumstances but he couldn’t stop his step forward or the tilt of his head, playfulness bleeding into his voice as he reached behind Lance's ear, fingers trailing down the other's neck. "And I presume you see yourself one of the Earth's"

His eyes took in the tan of Lance’s skin, fingertips realizing the smoothness as they travelled down the other’s neck, warmth seeping into his skin. Against his touch he could feel the nervous way Lance swallowed but when he talked his resolve was strong.

“I don't expect anything revolutionary with my skin color" Then as their eyes linked he looked even more determined. "Still, I think I can do a great job if I am given a chance. Would you… be my partner?"

Another shiver down his back and excitement -hope- burning in his stomach...

Lotor gave the boy a smug satisfied grin, lips curling and teeth glinting white in the over lighted studio.

"Your partner," he tried on, fingers now dragging down Lance's collarbone to stop over his heart. "Do you think you can keep up, Lance?"

Lance swallowed again, his eyes darting at Lotor’s fingers to his face, a beautiful flush slowly settling across his cheeks as determination and need burned in his blue eyes. “Ye-“

“LANCE!”

Startled, both of them turned towards the door, only to see Allura, glaring at them.

Lance squeaked, eyebrows rising in surprise, still oblivious while Lotor could see the danger miles away. Hastily pulling his fingers from Lance’s chest, he turned his back to quickly gather his stuff. “Don’t get too greedy too soon, Lance” he murmured, before moving towards the other exit.

Don’t get too greedy… indeed…

Now, he was sure. Lance wasn’t going to be a problem. After a stern talk from Allura about the dangers of being affiliated with him, he would sure learn to keep his distance.

As how it should be…

Lotor couldn’t afford it anyhow…

[roundtheworldrambles]

Lake Tekapo, Mount Cook and Mueller Hut, New Zealand

Day 123 – Lake Tekapo and Dark Sky Reserve

I woke up in my camper well after the sun had risen, still a little tired after my many hours of driving the day before. Opening the trunk to make coffee in my make-shift kitchen, I finally had a chance to take in the landscape around me. Omarama is located in a highland basin of grassland, located between mountain ranges. The Ahuriri River ran directly next to my campsite, and as I packed up, fisherman began arriving, dressed in river waders for a day of fly fishing trout. 

Heading North out of Omarama towards Twizel, my route was surrounded by wide, open plains, ringed with snowcapped mountains in the distance, including Mount Cook. This area of the South Island was where many scenes in Lord of the Rings were shot, as it was a stand in for the Kingdom of Rohan. The LOTR geek in me was pretty stoked, as I felt that I had been dropped directly into Middle-Earth!

As I continued north, Mount Cook loomed progressively larger on the horizon. The tallest mountain in New Zealand, surrounded by a jagged landscape of rock, ice and glaciers, Mount Cook was simply magnificent, even from a great distance. Its Maori name, Aoraki, is quite fitting, as it literally translates to “Cloud Piercer”. The mountain and the surrounding national park have long been popular destinations for Kiwi mountaineers, including Sir. Edmund Hillary – a New Zealander who was the first man to summit Mount Everest. 

I stopped along the shores of Lake Pukaki to admire the stunning landscape around me. A bright, turquoise colour, the lake’s vivid shade was caused by glacial run-off, which carries minerals and finely powdered rock downstream in meltwater. Looking straight down the lake, Mount Cook towered over the far end, quite an impressive sight! Taking in the scenery, I spent some time wandering along the shoreline, taking photos, and admiring the pink and purple lupins scattered along the water. 

Lake Pukaki

Leaving Lake Pukaki behind, I drove another 30 minutes before reaching my next destination for the night, at Lake Tekapo. This small hamlet is located on an equally scenic turquoise lake, slightly smaller thank Lake Pukaki. I checked into my campsite to park my camper, and wandered into the town of Tekapo for lunch. 

I spent the following few hours relaxing along the waterfront and taking photos, before I had some seriously bad luck. My Nikon was (presumably) stolen – it was like it had vanished into thin air. To this day, I am still not exactly sure how it happened, as one moment I had the DSLR in my bag, and the next it was gone. My best guess is that I had left it on a picnic table when I briefly stepped away to take some photographs with my phone. It couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes between when I had last used it, and when I realized it was missing. Even more mystifying was that there was almost no one around in this small town. I was devastated. All of my photos from the previous days had been on that camera, along with all of the photos I had taken in previous countries and not yet downloaded onto my Ipad. The rest of my afternoon was blur – I searched the area methodically, asked everyone I met if they had found a camera, left my contact information with all of the businesses in town, and called in a police report with my contact information. Despite all of these steps, I never saw my camera again. 

After my fruitless efforts to find my missing DSLR, I was feeling exhausted, isolated and very lonely. After a few pep calls from my family back home, I fell asleep for the rest of the afternoon in the back of my camper. Fortunately, I felt more upbeat after my long nap, and shifted into problem solving mode, researching and formulating a plan to replace my camera. Although the purchase of a new DSLR was certainly not in the trip budget I had originally planned, I knew that this was an investment that I would not regret, and would be well worth it for my remaining months of travel. 

Lake Tekapo

As the night began to fall, a dazzling array of stars began to pop out overhead. Lake Tekapo is in the centre of the Aoraki Mackenzie Dark Sky Reserve, a designated 1,700 square mile area with very little light pollution to interfere with the observation of stars, galaxies and planets in the night sky. In other words – it was super dark! The streetlights in the town at night were also very dim, and spread out to a bare minimum. 

Shortly before midnight, I bundled up and headed back into Tekapo Village, as I had booked a nighttime stargazing tour at the nearby Mount John Observatory. We boarded a bus equipped with special red headlights, to avoid interfering with the photometry of the telescopes. We were also given our own mini red flashlights to safely walk around the observatory grounds. As our bus wound up the mountain in the dark, our driver turned on some space themed music – from “Rocketman” to “Space Oddity”, pumping us up!

Mount John Observatory

Arriving at the observatory, our small group spent the next two hours observing the night sky, learning about the telescopes, the research conducted in the facility, and different types of celestial objects. Mount John Observatory has 5 massive telescopes, and countless smaller telescopes that we had a chance to look through. We got to observe and learn about globular clusters, the Magellan Clouds, the Gemini Twins, the Orion and Tarantula Nebulas, and Alpha and Beta Centauri, which form the Southern Cross (found on Australia and New Zealand’s flag). Incredibly, all of the large telescopes can be controlled remotely, and we saw one of the large telescopes move around – while being controlled from Boston!

That evening, the stars were brighter and clearer than I had even seen them, and I was completely mesmerized. I had always loved watching the night sky in Canada, and come from a family that does too (my dad literally bought a telescope as his “mid-life crisis”), and it was fascinating orienting myself to the Southern Hemisphere, with a brand-new set of constellations and stars. To cap it all off, we ended the chilly evening of stargazing with a steaming cup of hot chocolate – a perfect end to the perfect night. 

Day 124 – Mount Cook and Mueller Hut

It was a spectacular, bluebird morning as I stocked up on groceries in Tekapo and retraced my route back towards Mount Cook. Driving the length of stunning Lake Pukaki, I arrived in Mount Cook Village shortly before noon. I checked in at the Department of Conservation office, and picked up a pass to stay at Mueller Hut, my destination for the night. Located on the Sealy Mountain range, this remote alpine hut is built at an elevation of 1,800m, and is surrounded by a ring of glaciers, ice cliffs, and New Zealand’s highest mountains, including Mount Cook. It is only accessible via an advanced alpine hike, and takes about 4 hours to get to from the trailhead.  

I parked my campervan at White Horse Hill Campground, and packed my bag with the essentials I would need for the following 24-hours, including snacks, a bottle of wine (my post-hike reward!) a sleeping bag and many warm layers. Mueller Hut is a “pack-in, pack-out” hut, where all hikers must be completely self-sufficient, and leave no trace upon departure. 

Sealy Tarns with Mount Cook and Mueller moraine in the distance

As I set off along the trailhead of the Sealy Tarns Track, I briefly facetimed a group of my friends back home, who were all up at my friend Riley’s cottage in Canada. In moments like that, technology amazes me – as I was able to show them Mount Cook and my hiking trail from the other side of the world! As I continued along the tramp, the path got progressively steeper, and before long I had a sweeping view of the Mueller Glacier and the terminal Mueller Lake, which was surrounded by a massive moraine wall (composed of debris left behind from the receding glacier). The landscape was vast, wild and desolate, and left me completely in awe.

Canadians approaching Mueller Hut

I stopped for a break at Sealy Tarns, and had the good fortune of meeting two Canadians from Vancouver, Brendin and Meghan, who were also heading to Mueller Hut for the night. Brendin was a professional photographer, and kindly offered to take some photos for me. This was a welcome suggestion, as I was definitely missing my DLSR this day, finding it was hard to capture the beauty around me with only an Iphone! We continued onwards towards the hut, ascending along a zig-zagging path of alpine scrub before reaching a challenging scree slope, loose gravel slipping easily beneath our feet. Passing through a large rock field over the ridge, the trail turned into a “choose your own adventure”, as we clamoured around massive boulders, trying to keep an eye out for the orange trail markers. 

Mueller Hut

Finally, we caught sight of Mueller Hut in the distance. Bright red and located in the shadow of Mount Olliver, Mueller Hut was originally built in 1914, where it was used as a shelter when exploring the nearby glacier. Since this time, several new huts have been erected in the same location, although wintertime avalanches have destroyed several of these shelters in the past. The current hut was built in 2003 and was constructed on a strong platform and metal frame, designed to withstand severe alpine weather. Fortunately, since I was completing the hike in the summer, I did not have to worry about avalanches, although I could easily see how making this trek in the wintertime could be extremely dangerous. 

Arriving at the hut, we could quickly see that it was designed for communal living – with a total capacity for 28 people, there were two rooms with stacked bunk beds, jammed closely together, and a large shared kitchen and deck. Next to the kitchen, there were rainwater tanks with potable water to use for cooking. A short distance from the hut, there were two elevated drop toilets, built on long stilts to ensure access during heavy winter snowfall. While the amenities were rustic (and private space virtually non-existant) I loved it! Over the rest of the day, I met many fellow hikers, mostly travelling from the UK, Israel and other parts of New Zealand. We were a congenial bunch, and later spent the evening playing cards and Combio, sharing our wine and food. 

Mueller Hut

It was very cold and windy up at the hut, despite it being the height of summer. I spent some time wandering around outside, admiring the massive nearby glacier and eventually watching the sun go down over Mount Cook. Keas - alpine parrots endemic to NZ - flew overhead, occasionally landing to check us out. Nicknamed “the clown of the mountains”, I could quickly see that Keas were curious birds. A fellow tramper had left his backpack unattended, and it didn’t take long before the Kea was pecking away at it before being chased off. The hut warden laughingly told us that he had known of a Kea that once carried off a visitor’s passport – and warned us to be careful!

Along the glacier, long, thin waterfalls ran off the ice, carrying glacial meltwater into the valley below. Throughout the evening, we would occasionally hear loud booming noises, resulting from large chunks of ice calving off the glacier. As we all went to bed, we could hear the wind pounding on the metal siding of the hut, a powerful reminder of how unforgiving the alpine weather could be. 

Day 125 – Mount Cook and Christchurch

View Over the Hooker Valley at Dawn

I woke up with a few other hikers at dawn to watch the sunrise over the mountains. It was a blustery, frigid day, and we were only able to catch glimpses of the sun through the heavy clouds which were drifting over the nearby peaks. With the hut warden advising us of bad weather expected in the alpine that day, I had a small breakfast and quickly packed up my sleeping bag and bag, preparing for my descent down the mountain. Dark, stormy clouds began to spill over the nearby glacier as I departed, and I hustled to get over the ridge and descend the treacherous, scree slope before the weather turned. Unfortunately, the speed at which I was descending quickly flared up my knee injury, and although I missed the rainstorm, my knee was very sore and tired by the time I returned to my camper. 

Beginning of the downwards scramble

I rested and had some lunch in Mount Cook Village before heading back along Lake Pukaki, leaving the magnificent mountain range behind me. I briefly stopped back in Tekapo on my way out, a final attempt to see if any of the local businesses or police had found my camera –with no luck. This solidified my plan for the next day, as I decided to drive into Christchurch, the largest city on the South Island, to buy a replacement DSLR. I promptly booked a night at a Kiwi Holiday Park (looking forward to laundry and a hot shower!) and began the 4 hour drive Northeast to the city. 

[ironbite4]

Normally I wouldn’t post anything personal on here but I figured what the hell.  Time for a fanfic of mine.  I give you Rage of the Shadows, a Dragon Riders of Pern fic.  Also my AoO link too.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12221886

When Man first came to Pern, they took little notice of the strange planet that shown red in the night skies.  For two generations, they lived in peace until the planet's orbit brought it close enough to Pern to rain down an indigenous life form known as Thread.  The first Threadfall was devastating to the young colony but in time, human ingenuity won out and though the settlers had to move north to shield, they had developed a powerful protector.  Dragons would fly when Thread was in the sky and men called Dragonriders would guide these awesome beasts in battle.  For 2000 turns the world of Pern would watch the ebb and flow of Threadfall in the many Passes of Red Star.  But now, on the eve of the 9th Pass of Red Star, Pern's Dragonriders have been brought to it's lowest ebb.  Only one Weyr exists when there should be six.  And in the range of mountains near Benden Hold, something strange is happening.

The night was clear, so clear you could reach out and pluck the stars from the night sky.  The twin moons of Pern, Belior had set an hour ago and Timor had been rising late of night.  And Joker was drunk.  Just like always.  The holdless man, thrown out of his rightful hold by his own father 3 Turns ago, lurched out of the wineshop, steady on his feet despite the three skins of good Benden white he had drunk not 30 minutes ago.  The winekeeper had told him, like he always did, to get himself some more marks if he wanted to keep drinking that way.  And by the First Egg, Joker would do just that.  Just like he always did.  Smiling to himself as he made his way to his cot, the drunkard whistled an old sailing tune his father had once tried to taught him.  A chance glance at Benden Peak though stopped Joker in his tracks.  

'Where the bloody hells are the stars?', was the thought that came to the man's mind.  The only one.  For beyond Benden's peak, where the stars should be, was nothing but inky blackness.  They were gone.  And as Joker stared, Timor started to rise up towards it's customary midnight position.  Only as it reached the place where the stars were gone, it too vanished.

'Must be the drink', Joker mused to himself as he wobbled on down the road, a little bit more sober then he was before.

As the drunkard wandered down the road, the strange blackness started to swirl.  The light of the moon started to shine on the dark patch of nothing and it began to rotate faster and faster.  Suddenly, the patch of darkness erupted into a circle of darkness, interspersed with white lighting crackles that defined the now open wormhole.  From the center of it, a single man shaped object was ejected from the tunnel, the object appearing to be on fire as it slammed into the side of the mountain.  Immediately the portal closed, leaving no trace it had ever been.  Within the fiery crater the moon shined down imperviously, rocks and debris still smoking from the impact.  A hand grabbed the side of the hole followed by an arm, a shoulder, then a person, dressed in tattered black clothing.  He leavered himself out of his hole, crawling out of the hole and turning over onto his back with a groan.  Minutes passed as the figure in black simply rested from his labors, the only sign he was alive was his chest rising and falling.  The man opened his eyes, blue eyes that shined in the moonlight for a second before fading.  Hauling himself up he looked around, blinking as understanding began to fill his eyes.  Then rage began building, a rage that had nothing to do where he had landed. His head shot up and he let loose a howl of longing and grief that split the night with it's pain.  Then just as swiftly as it began, it was cut off, leaving only silence in it's wake for miles around.

“This way Masterfarmer,” Manora's voice echoed up from the stone stair case leading to the council room where F'lar and Lessa, Weyrleaders of Benden Wyer spent most of their time now going over the moldy Record skins searching for a way to predict when Thread would fall upon their world to sear it into nothing.  Lessa looked up at the sound of the Headwoman's voice, brushing a lock hair that had escaped from it's usual braid away from her face.  A glance at her weyrmate showed he was too involved in his readings to even pay attention to the intruders.  With a sigh, Lessa pushed away the skin she was attempting to decypher and awaited their visitors.  

Manora was the first to appear, the same calm, cool expression on her face which seemed the same as it was when Lessa arrived on Search 3 Turns ago. She stopped in the door way and bowed her head slightly, Lessa nodding in answer and stepped through with the Masterfarmer, his rough clothing indicating that he had just come from his farmhold. Lessa blinked as she recognized the face of the man, one Owen by name.  He worked the nearest farmhold to Benden Wyr and wouldn't have come from field if it weren't urgant.  As the man came into the chamber, he quickly snatched his hat off his head and bowed his head, the very nervousness of his movements betraying his reason for being here.

“Excuse me Weyrwoman, Weyrleader,” Manora began with no preamble, “a matter of some urgancy has come up and it is something you two should both hear.”  She bowed again and urged the farmer to come forward. F'lar, finally noticing the pair, put aside his Record skin and looked properly attentive.

“Well it's like this,” the Masterfarmer began, “now normally I'd be going to Lord Raid with this but seeing as how this is Weyr business, I came straight here.  See, I'm raising wherries for the dragons down yonder and as of late, something has been killing and eating the birds.  Now I'm no fool, I know there's all sorts of beasts that could do the deed but so far, we can't find anything.  We've tried for the past sevenday to catch the critter but he's smart, to smart.  Can we have some Weyr help?  I'd not be coming here if I didn't think Lord Raid could help.  Sides,” the man's face split in a wide grin, “ain't to often a man can say he's been to the Weyr.”

Lessa smiled back as F'lar out right laughed.  “Masterfarmer Owen,” Lessa said, “I'd like to think that this is something you could probably handle on your own.  But, if I recall, your farmhold is the one nearest to Benden Weyr so I think it'd behoove us to look into this.  Give the weyrlings something to do now that their dragons aren't eating us out of Weyr and Hold.”  Lessa looked over at F'lar who had leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs.  “In fact I think we could possibly do with a flyover, don't you think Weyrleader?”

F'lar scowled at Lessa then turned his attention to the Masterfarm.  “Certainly we could help out.  But if this creature is attacking at night, not sure what use we could be.  Dragons aren't exactly known for their night sight.  That's why we have watch-whers.”

From deep within the Weyr bowl, a chorus of roars punctuated that statement.

The Masterfarmer sighed.  “It's not just during the night this thing attacks.  Its any time!”  The man raised his hands up then brought them down in fists, clearly upset and frustrated at his failure to protect tithe beasts.  “Honestly Weyrleaders, I'm about at my wits ends.”

F'lar made soothing motions at the man.  “Don't fret yourself Masterfarmer, we'll find your beast.”  The Weyrleader flashed a quick grin.  “If it's attacking during the day, I doubt it'll be able to hide from a dragon.  We'll probably catch it, kill it, then have it for dinner before too long.”

The three then exchanged more pleasentries before Manora took the man out.  As they left, F'lar looked over at Lessa.  “Fancy a quick hop over to the farmhold?  I think we've been cooped up here for long enough.”

Lessa grimaced as she got to her feet, stiff from the extended hours they had spent this day.  Looking over at the Record skins on the table she stretched, feeling each and every vertebra pop as she did so.

“I think that'd be an excellent idea.  And I suppose we can bring some lunch. Breakfast was a long time ago,” she eyed F'lar as he got to his feet.  “Just us two or should we bring anyone else?”

“I think F'nor's not doing anything right now,” F'lar replied as he headed to the ledge where his great bronze dragon, Mnementh awaited him.  “The three of us can have a picnic,” was his parting sally.

Lessa merely rolled her eyes and went to collect her flying gear from their chambers.

Three great dragons, one bronze, one brown, and one gold popped out from between just over the farmhold.  A quick landing and consultation provided the info that the wherries were being attacked in the most northern field.  The 3 dragons were quick to get back in the air, effortlessly gliding towards the area.

'A most splended day I think,' Lessa thought to her dragon Ramoth.  A grunt from the great queen was her only answer.  Lessa laughed and patted the great neck over which she rode.  'I take it you're still grumpy?'

'I am not grumpy,' came Ramoth's reply.  'I just don't like the cold.'

'Take heart love of my life,' Lessa grinned as she spied the field that was their destination. 'We're about there then you can lounge in the sun until we're ready to leave.'

As the three dragons glided towards a hill marking the boundry, the entire flock of wherries suddenly burst over it, some taking to the air for a brief  second before coming back down to the ground to engage in the stampede.  So frightened they were they didn't even notice the dragon shadows passing overhead as they headed south towards presumed safety.  The three riders exchanged looks as they came over the hill and all three recoiled in horror.

Upon the field lay the corpses of 5 wherries, 3 of which looked to be partially consumed.  It looked to their eyes like a dragon had been there.  But feasting on the corpse of one of the wherries wasn't a dragon.  The three riders circled over what appeared to be a man, a man who's hair was shaggy and unkempt and he was saved from nakedness by some tattered black clothing.  F'nor and F'lar exchanged glances then F'lar motioned for them to land some distance from this apparent madman who continued his grisly feast.  

As they landed, F'lar and F'nor dismounted, F'lar glaring at Lessa to stay put on Ramoth.  The two brothers exchanged looks with one another.

“Well,” F'nor begain, nervously looking over at the mad man.  “Do you want to go ask him if he'd like to join in our picnic or do we wait for him to invite us to the feast?”

F'lar looked at the blood stained man and rubbed his chin.  “I think it'd be better if we subdued him and brought him to Healer Hall.  I don't think he's sane.”

F'nor looked over and nodded.  “Yes I doubt he is.  Odd though.  He looks vaguely familiar to me.”

F'lar also looked over and cocked his head to the side.  Something was nagging at his conscious but it refused to come to the surface.  “Well whoever he is, we'll ask him after we've got him away from the wherries.  Got a club or something?”

F'nor produced a short club from his belt.  “Thought we might run into trouble so I came prepared.”  He looked up at his big brown dragon and nooded. “Canth says he'll back me up.”

“Luck,” F'lar said and the two brothers started towards the man in black, F'lar lagging behind F'nor as the younger half-brother approached the feasting madman.

“Hey!” F'nor shouted at the man in black once he got in position, trying to get his attention.  “Hey you there!”  There was no response.  F'nor edged closer, holding his short club low to the ground.  “Hey I want to talk to you.”  The man kept eating, tearing out large chunks of meat with hands that looked to be more like claws then anything else.  “I'm warning you, I'm armed.”  The man continued to eat as F'nor approached him from behind.  “Don't say I didn't warn you,” was F'nor's last words as he brought the club down hard on the man's head.

Or he would have had the man in black's hand not appeared grabbing hold of the club, preventing it's downward velocity from impacting.  Quicker then anything, F'nor found himself flying through the air, landing on his head with an audible thunk, being knocked out.  F'lar scrambled back as Canth roared a challenge.  The man spun around, crouching on all fours and glaring at the brown dragon charging at him.  If Lessa hadn't been watching what happened, she would've surely chalked up what happened next to some sort of wine-sickness.  As Canth got to the man, he sprung, twisting upwards and uppercutting Canth in the jaw, snapping the great brown's head back and lifting him off the ground.  And by some trick of the light, the man's entire body was, for a moment encircled by some sort of fire that traced the path of his punch.  As he landed and Canth's unconscious body landed behind him, he turned and looked at his fallen foe.  A growl escaped his lips and he turned his attention towards Less and F'lar.  F'lar had scrambled back to Mnementh and had mounted his bronze.  Turning to Lessa, he shouted at her to get back to the Weyr.  The man's eyes narrowed and he threw his head back in a scream, momentarily stopping Mnementh from lifting off himself and pausing Ramoth's height gaining flight.  Quicker then either of them could react, the man started running towards Mnementh, scabbering on all fours at time but moving quickly.  As Mnementh got a dragonlength from the ground, the man in black jumped, reaching the level of Mnementh's head with a single bound.  He landed on Mnementh's nose and used it as a springboard, sending the great bronze's head towards the ground as he ascended upwards.  He reached the level where Lessa stared at this madman who looked back her, eyes wide with madness.  Then, just to further confuse the issue, he floated over and landed lightly between Ramoth's neck ridges, staring into Lessa's eyes with something akin to an accusation in them.

There they stayed for what seemed like forever.  Then, to Lessa's astonishment, the man reached out and gently cupped the back of her head.  Leaning forward, he touch his bloody forehead to her's, closing his eyes as he did.  They stayed like that for a second before his eyes snapped open, the madness and rage that had been in them streaking out, to be replaced by tears and a great sadness.  The man lifted his head up and howled, a howl of pain and longing and suffering that drove all thought from Lessa's mind, bringing tears to her eyes as her pain, though long gone, fresh to the surface as if it had just happened.  Ramoth and Mnementh's necks reached to the sky above as they let loose a soul rendering keen of their own.  As Ramoth keened, the man in black fell from his preach, falling from between the neck ridges towards the ground below.  Lessa leaned forward, trying to catch the man before he'd be out of reach when, as he entered the shadow cast by Ramoth's wing, he vanished, leaving only confusion, the bloody wrecks, and questions as he did.

F'lar and the Benden Wingleaders appeared in the skies from between arranged smartly over northern Ruatha.  Above them, arranged smartly and professionally, were the wings of Fort Weyr.  F'lar couldn't stop the grin from spreading on his face as he observed the mass dragon wings.  Though not participating in this fight against their ancient enemy as they did at Telgar, F'lar and the other wingleaders had deemed it prudent to at least observe.  After all one couldn't have too much experience when it came to fighting Thread.

'I'd rather be fighting Thread' grumbled the great bronze Mnementh from beneath him.

F'lar simply laughed and reached out to pet the great neck. 'Next time my heart.  Next time we'll be in the thick of things just like at Nerat and Telgar.'

F'lar's wings positioned themselves in observation altitude.  Far enough away so that they wouldn't be scoured by Thread but close enough to observe the patterns being woven.  At Telgar, only 3 of the Benden dragon riders had been hurt by Thread and only one was out of action for longer then a few days.  Which wasn't bad for one under strength Weyr but that would improve as the Turns passed.  F'lar looked over his shoulder to see F'nor's Canth in proper position but his rider wasn't observing the ascending wings of dragons heading east.  His head was turned firmly to the west, at some distant star that seemed to refuse to vanish from the sky.

'Mnementh ask Canth what's got F'nor so fascinated,' F'lar asked his dragon.

Mnementh's head swivled towards his brown wingmate and he rumbled back, 'F'nor sees a star that doesn't seem to want to go away.  It also looks like it's getting closer.'

'Probably just a shooting star that's late.  It'll go away in a sec-' F'lar's thought was cut off by a cry from his half-brother.

“LOOK OUT!” came F'nor's cry as F'lar turned to look.  Mnementh was quicker in reaction as he wing slipped to the right as the supposed shooting star suddenly streaked in out of nowhere right in the space F'lar and Mnementh were.  The streak was green in color and blazed faster then any dragon could ever go.  F'lar stared at it as it ascended towards the incoming Thread, beating out the fastest dragons.  As it got to what seemed to be the thickest portion of Thread it stopped.  There it floated for a second, a spark in the middle of the gray dark thread

“AURA CRASH!” came a shout like thunder that caused some dragons to instantly drop several lengths in the air before catching themselves. Instantly the spark grew and spread wings made of what appeared to fire in the middle of thread.  Instantly the sky lit itself on fire, as if the entire firebird was dragon fire and seared the Thread from the sky.  Then it started to move, dancing in the sky, leaving a trail of fire and ash where ever it went.  The dragons and riders hung motionless in the sky as by itself, the firebird charred Thread. Mnementh suddenly went between and appeared next to T'ron's Fidranth, the Fort Weyrleader's mouth hanging open.  He looked over at F'lar in disbelief and cupped his hands over his mouth.

“WHERE WAS THIS HIDING?” T'ron shouted.

“I DON'T KNOW!” F'lar called back, the pyrotechnic show continuing.  

As the dragon riders watched, the firebird suddenly reversed direction, heading, it seemed, directly towards where F'lar and T'ron hung in the sky.  It stopped mere lengths from the two men and dragons, seemingly contemplating them.  Then the firebird extinguished itself, revealing an armor clad form in it's center.  The armor clad form was black in color, seemingly like a bit of midnight made almost flesh. Twin blades the length of an arm sprouted from each wrist, not impeding the motion of the arms at all.  Three gems were on the chest in an upside down triangle, two green and one blue, each glowing brightly in the air.  From the head, a trio of what looked like fins crowned it, over a visor that looked to be made of green glass.  As they watched, twin jets of steam escaped from vents in the helm's cheeks, almost as if whatever was inside was venting some exhaustion. The figure's visored visage bore down into the two Weyrleaders as if searching for something.  The figure then turned around in mid air, gazing up at what was left of Thread.  Moving his head around his neck, F'lar and T'ron heard audible popping, like the figure was preparing for some great physical labor. It lifted up his arms, the twin blades on both wrists switching forward to face what the hands were pointed at.  Two more blades popped from what F'lar took for decorative spikes at the elbows, lengthening to the length of a man's forearm.  The shoulder pauldrons opened up as well, revealing that they too were another double set of blades.  What was taken to be fins atop the figure's head were in fact more blades, two the length of the back of the skull but the third the entire length of the spine, snapping forward and facing the incoming Thread.  Then the points began to glow, swiftly gathering dark colored energy and increasing in size.  The armor never gave any indication of stress or fatigue as it gathered more and more power, power that raised the hair on the back of F'lar's neck.  

“SHADOW OMNI BEAM!” came the same shout as from before, only this time it was apparent that the figure in the armor was the source.  With a blast of sound, the seven energy beams exploded from the tips of the blades of the armor, shattering again and again as they raced to meet Thread.  Each second the energy beams continued their journey they split exponentially,  racing higher and higher and multiplying and multiplying.  Each beam then sought out a Thread filament, capturing each spore and stopping it in it's tracks.  The beams continued in this manner, only stopping when it was apparent that each Thread had been captured.  The figure then tensed up and sent a surge of even more energy from the tips of the blades, exploding each Thread that made the previous pyrotechnic show look mundane in compassion.  As ash rained down on the valley below, the armor's blades snapped back to their previous configuration.  The figure turned back around and stared down at F'lar.  Suddenly from behind the visor, two blue orbs flashed into existence and another jet of steam issued forth.  This steam was different as it billowed around the figure, cloaking it in white.  Suddenly, the steam was blown away as the figure surrounded itself in a ball of energy.  It then flew up, disappearing into the sky, leaving nothing but blue morning behind.

F'lar and Lessa popped from between above Fort Weyr, the mid afternoon sun gilding the great Star Stones of the ancient Weyr.  Ramoth and Mementh glided wing tip to wing tip down towards the great queens ledge.  Perching only long enough to discharge their riders, the two dragons arced away towards the sunning ledges, as the two riders made their way to council chamber.

“And it just, vanished?” Lessa asked F'lar again as they unbuckled riding helmates and shucked gloves.  “Like it didn't even want to explain itself?”

“Yes Lessa,” F'lar said for what had to have been the millionth time, “just flew up into the sky faster then even the fastest green could ever hope to fly and vanished.  I'm having a hard time even processing what happened.  I really hope T'ron doesn't expect much from us.  I didn't even know that thing existed.”

Lessa frowned. “Whatever it is, I just hope it doesn't make another appearance. Thinking that something with that much power exists on our world is mind boggling.”

F'lar nodded as they entered the council chamber, a nod to T'ron who held curtain open for them before letting it drop on F'lar's heels.  He nodded the Benden Weyrleaders to a pair of chairs next to another empty one and crossed the chamber to his own seat, Marada coming around behind them and placing a goblet each of wine and a pitcher of klah between them.  A quick squeeze of Lessa's shoulders and the Fort Weyrwoman went to take her place beside her weyrmate.  F'lar glanced around and sighed, this was probably going to be a long meeting.

“So,” T'ron began after a short moment, “what happened over Ruatha happened there's no doubt about it.  Whatever that thing was it certainly charred Thread well enough.  What I want to know is what was it?”

“I'd love to know that too T'ron,” F'lar began, rubbing the back of his head with one hand as Lessa clutched his other.  “We've never even heard a rumor that it existed nor do we have any songs about it.  But yes, it charred Thread today, that I will give you.”

“But certainly,” D'ram said, “certainly you'd know of something that could help spell out this mystery.  If something of this much power existed in your time, we wouldn't have had to come forward.”

A murmur of consent answered that that from T'kul and R'mart.

“Yes but-” F'lar attempted to answer when suddenly the entire chamber went dark.  Not dark as if the glowbaskets had suddenly all failed, but dark as if night itself had descended and replaced day.  There was a moment of frightened shouting and conflicting commands when light was returned to the chamber and where there were twelve people, there where now thirteen.

The newcomer was dressed in tight black clothing with an odd black and white symbol on the left breast.  Inside that symbol was the sign of infinity.  His hair was brown and his skin, where not crossed with old scars including a rather impressive one that began over his left eye and ended below it, was a pale white beneath a tan.  A trimmed beard and mustache completed his look, marking him for at least 25 turns old. His eyes were what F'lar would remember most besides the fact that he lounged very casually in his chair, black boots up on the table as if he was master here.  His eyes were a startlingly vivid and clear shade of blue.  And they looked old.  As if the staranger had seen more life then his appearance suggested.

T'kul rose from his chair, his hand going to his belt to draw his knife and the stranger laughed.

“Yeah that would be a bright idea if you were armed,” he said in a voice rich with amusement but still sounding young.  He causally brought up a hand, revealing that he held T'kul's belt knife in it.  “You might be needing this if you're planning on killing me.”

With a negligant toss, the knife was returned the knife to T'kul, who stared at it as if he'd never seen it before.  With another laugh, the man in black revealed his other hand, this one holding five more knives in it. “In fact y'all might be needing these back just in case.” Another causal toss followed, skittering the rest of the blades to rest, hilts pointing at their owners.

T'ron stared first at the knife then at the stranger causally lounging at his council chamber.  “Who,” T'ron began after swallowing visibly, “what are you?”

The stranger chuckled and reached over, grabbing F'lar's wine cup and taking a drink.  He wiped his lips and set the cup down before looking at the Fort Weyr leaders.

“Ahh now that,” he began, his voice losing all traces of the accent he had put on before, “that is a story worthy of one of your Songs.  Who I am and what I am are so intertwined at this point that I can't even separate them.  But I'll try my very best.”

He flexed, merely flexed his knees and assumed a cross legged position a visible foot off the chair.  “What I am wouldn't have any meaning to you people but I'll try and explain.  I am a 5000 yea-,” he paused and shook his head, “sorry 5000 Turn old time traveler.  I am a man without a home.  I am a man who's history includes tragedy and triumph worthy of one of your Songs.  That is what I am.”  He paused, roatating slowly in the air as he eyed each of them in turn.  When he got to T'kul he paused more then the rest, looking at T'kul for a second then glacing again at T'ron.  “Give it seven then.  As for who I am that's a question that I've asked myself for the past 2000 Turns. The simple answer is a name.  My name.  My name is Nick Saber and I am known throughout the cosmos as the Shadow of Time.  I just thought I'd say hello in the best way possible.”

T'ron's eyes seemed to start out of his head.  “What in shards are you talking about?”

“That pyrotechnic display over Ruatha of course,” replied Nick.  “Surely you don't think I run around at 100% of my total power for fun?  Uusually I just run around like this or at 25% but I figured I'd get your attention better in my Shadow Star Armor then in this ninja gi.”

“Ninja....what?” D'ram asked.

Nick rolled his eyes which made him flip in place.  “Oh lord you people have no idea. Forgot what I was dealing with for a second.  I'm a warrior D'ram.  A ninja is a type of warrior and where I'm from they ran around in stuff like this.  Or in orange.  Not to sure why.  The bottom line is ladies and gentlemen, I'm not here as a threat.  I'm here to help you out in times when you can't deal with everything.  Cause the way I see it...or rather,” and he chuckled again, “Foresee it, you and your people are in for some massive upheavals and changes and I always find those the most interesting.”

T'kul muttered something and gave the stranger floating above the chair a dark look. Fanna looked at the man fearfully.  “How are you doing that?” she asked, almost seeming to shrink from even addressing this stranger.

“What floating?” Nick asked back, “oh it's nothing to special.  I usually just like to walk around or lounge upside down but figured this would be a better demonstration of my powers.  I can also fly, something that was demonstrated a couple months back.”

“A couple months back?” T'ron asked, his glare going to F'lar and Lessa.

“I can assure you T'ron,” F'lar begain again, his hands raised to ward off the Fort Weyrleader's glare, “we have never seen this man before in our lives.”

“Yeah you have,” Nick said, countering F'lar as he stretched out in mid air, “I just wasn't as well groomed at the time.  And I had a chunk of wherry between my teeth.  That was a fun time in my life.”

“YOU!” Lessa shouted explosively, rising to her feat and casting one hand out to point at the floating man.  “You were the one in the field that day!  The one who threw F'nor for dragon lengths.”

“Also Shoruykened Canth if memory serves,” Nick shook his head and laughed.  “Glad to see the big brown is ok.  Didn't think I hurt him but I was quite mad you see.”

“But why?” Lessa asked, “why attack us?”

Nick rubbed the back of his head, his eyes going up as he thought.

“Well, “ he began, “I was quite mad at the time.  Not the mad you see right now though, proper mad.  Insane really.  With rage at being alive, grief at what I've lost and just found comfort in insanity.  Really I was kinda operating at instinct if I had to be honest.  Just reacting at everything.  But you pulled me out Weyrwoman and for that I am eternally grateful.”  Nick bowed his head to Lessa.

“But I didn't do anything,” Lessa protested.

“You learned your Ballads letter perfect is what you did,” Nick replied, his eyes filled with honesty for a brief second, “you learned your Ballads letter perfect and within you is a core of strength that shall never fail you.  I needed that at the time and for that, I am so grateful.”

Nick turned his head and rose to his feet, stretching his arms and shaking his shoulders. “Well I can see you need some time to process this so I'm going to leave.  But before I do, I'm going to give you all a gift.  After all, what sort of guest would I be if I didn't leave a gift?”

He reached into his shirt and drew out a shiny disk of metal about the size of a mark. Holding it up, there was some strange symbol on one side of the disk and on the other side was the sign of infinity.

“This,” he explained, “ is a Shadow Coin.  There'll be one in each of your weyrs don't ask me how I put them there you don't want to know. You'll see me out and about Pern but if you need me, really need me, take the coin and flip it.  I'll catch it before it hits the ground no matter where.  Consider this a sign of my trust in you as this is a very powerful artifact I'm trusting you with.”  He set it down on the table in the center and rose towards the ceiling.  “Until we meet again my friends, safe skies.”  As he entered an area of deeper shadow, he faded away like a ghost, leaving the council chamber, for the moment, in silence.

At the highest peak of Benden mountains, the ice and snow swirled as a spring storm moves into the region to deliver some much needed rain.  Standing on a small cliff on the south face of the mountain, Nick Saber stood, ignoring the cold and wet as he looked out over Pern.

'Such a fragile world to have been bombarded by so much cosmic stuff,' he thought, his eyes scanning the horizon.

'Ahh,' a new voice, one that echoed with the weight of centuries behind it came to his mind, 'that is their burden is it not?'

“Hello Guardian,” Nick said out loud, knowing the entity who's shadow he was could hear him, “been a long time.”

A swirl of ice and snow suddenly took shape, becoming a vaguely hooded creature standing seven feet tall.  It was a suggestion of a shape but Nick could feel the immense psychic power that was maintaining the creature's brief hold on this plane of existence.

“I do believe,” Guardian replied, “it's been about 2000 years since we last spoke.”

“Turns Guardian,” Nick replied.  “The locals call their years Turns.”

“Ahh and I guess we must respect the locals terms of time must we not?”

Nick smiled and looked out once more at the land spread before him.  Briefly, his view shifted from the mundane to the quantum, revealing the yellow stain of particles that blanketed every inch of this planet.  His viewpoint shifted back to the physical plane.

“Hard to believe,” he began, “that a particle fountain not 21 light years away from this system has been perfectly bombarding this place with chronotons for its entire existence.  Useful too when you know this planet's been attacked by some spore for a good chunk of that existence necessitating the evolution of it's native species.”

The figure turned and looked out to where Nick said and nodded.  “Yes it is a nice coincidence.  But I'm not manifesting to talk about the weather Nick. I'm here to talk about you.  You're not thinking about anything anymore.  Why?”

Nick's eyes briefly watered and the echo of ages old pain was once again seen.  He quickly dashed the tears from them and glared at his companion.

“What's there to talk about Guardian?” he accused, “I killed her.  I killed her for power.  That's that.  She's gone forever and I'm left with half a soul, half a heart, and half a mind.  What do you want to talk about my feelings?”

The figure simply stared at Nick.

“Or how about the twenty thousand souls I condemned to hell?  You want to talk about that?  Do you Guardian of Time?  Do you really want me to bear my heart and soul to you?  Do you you son of a bitch!?”

At the last, screamed from atop the highest peak in Benden Range, the ledge the Shadow stood exploded into powder.  The figure simply floated on as Nick breathed heavily in and out, floating on the space that just a second ago was solid rock.

“You've gone through so much Nick,” Guardian began, it's voice echoing through time and space, “so much pain and heartbreak.  And yet, even after that nap in the darkness, you're here.  Here and ready to do what you do best, help people.  I know it's hard, I loved her too.  But you have to find a way to live.  It's what she would've wanted.”

Nick turned back to his contemplation of the landscape, his mind going through memories of the past.  Sighing, he reached into his shirt and pulled out two gems.  One, emerald in color was the size of his fist and perfectly circular.  The other was the bluest shade of blue, a teardrop shaped sapphire.  Both shined in the moonlight though the green one occasionally had lightning dance across it's surface.

“Stars and magic. That's what I got for my wish Guardian.  And you know what?” he looked up at the wraith, “I'm trying to decide if it's worth it.  I didn't come here because of choice.  I heard a call across the universe.  That's all.  A call I had to respond to.  Damn it Guardian why did I have to kill her?  Why?”

“For that I have no answer to,” Guardian replied.  “All I can say is she used the rules of magic to give you a fighting chance at a demon lord.  And it worked.  You sent that bastard back to hell.”

“Along with twenty thousand souls.”

“That I can't say. I'm the Guardian of Time Nick, not death.  That's your job.”

Nick waved that off.

“Through out all the time I've known you, all the time you've cast yourself as my shadow, you've always proven that you've got a good heart.  Might be a bit jaded at times and a bit scared, but a good heart.  Maybe that's why she did what she did.  You're strong Nick, strong enough to endure Celestia's passing and moving on.  No matter what you do on this planet, I'm sure she'll be proud of you.”

Nick looked down at the blue gem for a moment and let his memory drift to the woman it had been.  How warm her laugh was, how sunlight brought gold highlights to her white hair, how her eyes, as blue as the gem in his hand right now, had been pools to fall in to repeatably.  More erotic memories swam to the surface and he grinned, realizing how much she had teased him.  Shaking his head he put the gems back in his shirt and fished out another one, staring at the red gem in his hand.  This one pulsed over and over, one of it's facets pulsing brighter then the rest of it.  Looking out he saw that the facet was pointed towards the southwest and he grinned.  He looked over at the wraith as he put the gem back in it's place.

“Welp,” he quipped, drawing a hood over his head and pulling up a mask to cover his face, “guess the vacation's over.  Time to get to work.”   Nick then produced a pair of red rimmed sunglasses, putting them on to complete his look.

“I suppose so.  Be well Nick.  Make your enemies fall.”

“Oh I plan on doing just that.  Cause it's time for this Shadow to rise.”

Nick surrounded himself with his ki aura and blasted off into the night, the ice wraith falling apart behind him.  As he flew towards the south, there was but one thought on his mind.

'Let's see what trouble we can make.'

And the Shadow of Time vanished into the night.

[jj-lynn21]

Vee Chapter 21

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3 ch 4  ch 5 ch 6 ch 7  ch 8 ch 9 ch 10  ch11 ch 12 CH 13 

ch 14 ch 15 ch 16 ch 17 ch 18 ch 19 ch 20

warnings: angst, fluff

photo from entertainment weekly London premier It Ch 2

Jen and her friends come in the back way laughing as they carry dresses to Molly’s room where they have decided to get ready for the wedding. Jen texts Bill.

Jen: 

We are back. In molly’s room to get ready. Unless you need me, I am in hiding until we walk down the isle in two hours.

Bill: 

I’m sorry, I do need you to meet the Elder’s before the wedding. Can you meet me in the hallway before getting ready?

Jen:

 OK, be right out.

Jen turned to her friends, “I’ll be back shortly girls. There is a bit of Castle business to take care of before the wedding.”

Sara laughed, “No quickies before the wedding.”

Jen shakes her head as she leaves the room. She has a huge smile on her face, but it disappears as she sees the seriousness on Bills face. They walk towards each other. He puts his arms around her smiling a little as he looks at her.

Jen looks up at him, “What’s wrong? Do they not approve of our union? Just tell me….”

Bill reassures her, “Nothing like that.” He steps back taking her hand to lead her to the Elder’s room. “I think this will partly be a good surprise.”

They get to the door. The guard opens the door.

Terrian smiles, “Hello Jen.”

Her eyes are wide at first and then blink several times. She leans back on Bill. “Is this some kind of trick?”

Terrian looks fondly at her, “Its not a tricky baby girl.”

Jen couldn’t believe what she was seeing, “Daddy? How?”

 “Have a seat.” Terrian sat down. “I will tell you what happened.” 

Jen can’t take her eyes off her Father who, as far as she knew, died in a car accident with her Mother. Bill took her to the couch to sit down. He holds her hand. Terrian was on the other side of her. She flinches when Terrian tries to take her other hand. Catherine sits in a chair across the room.

Terrian stayed calm, “Ok, I understand your hesitation. I’m sorry I couldn’t raise you or even tell you of my lineage after the accident. I was devastated when your mother was killed in the accident. I wanted to die with her, but I healed. It took a long time for me to heal. We all thought it best for you to be raised by your Grandmother since you were part human. “

Jen was shocked. Part of her wanted to hug him tight and cry with the sorrow she felt he was feeling talking about loosing her mother. Part of her couldn’t believe he was her Father here in front of her.

Terrian continued, “I hope you can understand how hard it was for me to leave you. I still think it was the best for you. You were too young for my world. I just hoped you would find your way to us when the time was right for you to take a throne. Are you ok?”

Jen looked at him curiously, “Daddy you’re Aklat Alnaas?”

Terrian nodded, “Yes, I am. Your Mother was human.”

Jen asked, “Why didn’t you make her one of us, so she didn’t have to die?”

She couldn’t hold in the emotion any longer. She started to cry. Terrian looked to Bill. Bill let go of Jen’s hand. Terrian moved closer to her. She let him hug her.

 “I didn’t think she was ready,” He teared up. “I thought I could be kind of normal. I snuck around drinking when she didn’t know. Then she was pregnant with you and that amazed me. I’m so sorry baby girl. I was going to wait until you were 18 and then tell you both everything and turn you both but then the accident and I just couldn’t take care of you like you needed. I am glad Bill brought you back to us. I bless this marriage with all my heart.” 

Jen wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. “This is just a lot to take in today. I really need to process; I need to process you being here daddy.”

Terrian took a breath, “Take all the time you need baby girl. I hope it is ok with you that I officiate your wedding as a gift. I also have a gift your mother would want you to have if you will accept it.”

Jen is surprised, “What do you have from her?”

Terrian reaches for a box behind the couch. He hands it to her. She starts to open it.

“Its your Mother’s wedding veil.” He smiles. “She always liked the color blue even though it wasn’t a typical veil color for a wedding. I hope you will wear it.” 

Jen held it up, “Its beautiful and blue like the roses I chose. I will be proud to wear it for her. I think it would be best for you to officiate the wedding instead of the King…”

Catherine stood, “On that note I think I have a gift for you also. Eric is no longer King of this Castle. I have already given that responsibility to Bill. So, when you wed tonight you will be Queen.”

Jen smirked, “Well, Eric want me to be Queen. I guess he got his wish.”

Catherine grinned, “Yes, we know all he did to you and others now. There will be a ceremony after the wedding You will behead your tormentor as that is our way. I hope you don’t have a problem with this.”

Jen looks to Bill. He was torn between deep sadness his brother was going to be killed and knowing his brother deserved to be killed. Bill looked at her with his big emotional green eyes. “I would do this for you if I was allowed.” 

Looking to Catherine he said, “Since my brother has hurt others I cared about also, hurting me in the process can I please be responsible for his punishment. I know Jen is strong enough to do as she is asked, but I rather take it upon myself…”

“No, she was his latest victim.” Catherine shook her head, “She will behead him after the wedding at the reception.”

Jen looked to Bill, “Don’t hate me for what I have to do My King.”

Bill takes her hand and kisses it gently. He smiles even though he is torn inside. She feels how torn he is feeling. “I will always love you. This is what must be because we are meant to be. Now you better go get ready my Queen to be. As long as Queen Catherine and King Terrian are ready to dismiss us.”

“You are both dismissed.” Catherine lights up. “I love weddings. This one seems especially loving.”

Terrian smiles, “I agree, this is an especially loving union.”

Jen and Bill stand and bow to them before leaving the room. They part ways in the hall not to be reunited until they are ready to head down the Isle together as customary in an Aklat Alnaas ceremony.

Hans Zimmer’s MAESTRO plays in the ballroom as guest stream out of the elevator to take their seats. All are excited for the Castle wedding. John Mayer’s THE THEME FROM ‘THE SEARCH FOR EVERYTHING’ plays as Derick, Tye and Tod line up on the left side of where Terrian is standing in front of the Thrones. The men are wearing navy blue suits with navy blue dress shirts and a fuchsia tie. Terrian is dressed in white robes with golden accents. Catherine in a golden long-sleeved V-neck gown, stands behind Tarrian to his right. As Peter Gabriel’s IN YOUR EYES starts to play Beth, Molly and Sara walk down the aisle wearing Jovani navy and fuchsia dresses with a sheer overlay carrying navy and fuchsia rose bouquets.

Bill and Jen walk towards each other smiling. They bow to each other. Bill takes her hand to kiss it softly. The guests stand as they walk down the aisle. Bill is wearing a custom-made white tuxedo white dress shirt and white bow tie with navy blue dress pants. Jen wears a White by Vera Wang textured Organza white wedding dress with the blue veil her Father gave her and a bouquet of fuchsia and blue roses. When the couple gets to King Terrian the audience sits. 

Tarrian starts the ceremony. “Before this assemble of friends, family and guests in attendance I ask King Bill Edlund will you take Princess Jen Adore to be your wife and love her in distress and pleasure?

Looking in Jen’s eyes holding her hands Bill smiles brightly, “Yes.”

Terrian continued, “Before this assemble of friends, family and guests in attendance I ask Princess Jen Adore will you take King Bill Edlund to be your husband and love him in distress and pleasure?”

Looking in Bill’s eyes she smiles brightly, “Yes.”

Derick gives Bill a small box with a wedding band for Jen. Bill takes the ring. Placing it on her finger he repeats what Terrian tell him.

Terrian said, “Bill repeat after me. This ring is a token of my love. I merry you with all that I have and all that I am.”

Bill repeats, “This ring is a token of my love. I merry you with all that I have and all that I am.”

Terrian smiles, “Repeat after me Jen. I will forever wear this ring as a sign of my commitment and the desire of my heart.”

Jen repeated, “I will forever wear this ring as a sign of my commitment and the desire of my heart.”

Molly gives a small box with a wedding band for Bill. Jen takes the ring. Placing it on his finger she repeats what Terrian tells her.

Terrian said, “Jen repeat these words to your King. I give you this ring and myself as my gift to you.”

Jen repeats, “I give you this ring and myself as my gift to you.”

Terrian turns to Bill, “Repeat this to your beloved, Bill. I will forever wear this ring as a sign of my commitment and the desire of my heart. I give of you the gift of myself.”

Bill repeats, “I will forever wear this ring as a sign of my commitment and the desire of my heart. I give of you the gift of myself.”

Catherine walked forward. She motioned for the room to rise. Bill and Jen kneeled before her. She tapped Jen’s head with her scepter.

 “You may rise. Complete your destiny by sealing your union with a kiss,” Catherine announced, “take your thrones as the King and Queen of this Castle.”

As the couple is sealing their union Molly steps in front of everyone. She screams her outrage no longer able to keep her mouth shut. “Where is the true King? Where is Alex the true King of this Castle? Does no one think it’s a travesty he is no where to be seen at his Brother’s wedding? This room must know there is something wrong here…”

Catherine glared at her, “That’s enough young lady unless you want to join the former King.”

Jen turned to Molly, “Please Molly, stop before you cross a line you can’t come back from.”

The crowd is abuzz talking about what they are hearing and wondering themselves where Eric is on this joyous wedding day of his brother.

Catherine yelled, “Silence everyone. King Bill and Queen Jen take your thrones. Maiden Molly I guess because of your outburst we must do this in front of everyone. I want silence during this Castle business. If any wants to leave before seeing an execution do so now. Someone put plastic on the floor so we can continue our celebration after this mess. And get the sword.”

No one budges from their seats. They all think it is all part of the roleplay game. Servants layout a large mat in front on the thrones.

Catherine bellowed, ‘Bring out Eric.”

Eric is escorted into the ballroom. His hands bound in silver chains already showing burn marks on his wrists. Molly runs over to him. The guards don’t let her very close. “What have they done to you my King.” Glaring at Jen, “This is all your fault you spoiled little bitch.”

Catherine ordered, “Take her out. If she can’t hold her tongue, she is next.”

Jen yelled at Molly with authority, “Molly you have no clue what he has done. You will be quiet in this room from now until you choose to leave. Queen Catherine I think she should stay to hear the charges.”

Catherine nodded, “Very well.”

The guard made Eric kneel on the mat in front of everyone. He looks up with a smug grin on his face.

Trying to catch Jen in a gaze Eric said, “You know how he feels about you hurting anyone my Queen. What do you think my brother will think of you if you do this? You’re a Queen now you can change these barbaric rules of execution to keep his love…”

Bill glared at Eric, “I offered to do this myself brother since you deserve it for hurting her but we both know she has to execute you by law. I am fine with that.”

Jen doesn’t look at Eric as he is trying to talk his way out of death. Bill holds her hand. He kisses her cheek confirming to his brother he is fine with this execution.

Catherine demands, “Enough trying to get out of this Eric. We are all in agreement you have harmed one of your own. You attempted more than once to take the Queen by force. Even though it was taking her mind and you did not physically abuse her you know the punishment is death. Farther more, we know you have done this before. You even had your brother kill a woman you drove to insanity.”

Eric scoffed, “He usually chooses weak minded females. I just had to fix his mistakes. And Jen is too strong for him. Deep down she knows this. She felt it when she excepted my gifts and I invaded her thoughts…”

Catherine yelled, “No more excuses. The verdict is death. Queen Jen will you step down. Take the sword to finish this.”

Jen looks to Bill. He nods his approval letting go of her hand as she gets up to walk towards Eric. Everyone is shocked by the charged and the retribution that is about to happen to the man they called King for as long as they had been playing this roleplay game. Of course, they thought it wasn’t real and the Eric would be moving on to a rule somewhere else they hoped they could find. Some of the people hated her, they thought they loved him so much despite what he was charged with tonight.

Molly was crying kneeling as close to Eric as they would let her. She truly did not believe any of the allegations. Eric had promised she would be Queen. He called her his Queen when they were together.  She was very angry Jen had taken this right from her.

The rest of the wedding party were still standing in their places for the ceremony. Frightened to watch the gruesome scene coming. Beth looked to Derick. Derick looked to her. He took her mind away from the situation as he felt she needed. In her head Beth heard him. Derick:  “I’m hear my lady. No need for you to watch what is happening here now. You can remember the happiness of the wedding and the celebration after. Just look at me. You will feel loved.”

The guards force Eric’s head down as Jen approaches. She picks up the sword. Taking a deep breath, she raises it high. When the sword cleanly decapitates Eric, blood spatters on Molly, the wedding party and some guests in the first row. 

Molly is in a complete breakdown screaming and crying out loudly. Some others in the audience are sobbing. Most are just completely in shock of what they have just scene. It all seemed so real, but it couldn’t possibly be, right?

Catherine announced, “Alright, clean up this mess and let us celebrate this blessed union.”

Jen commanded, “Tye and Todd help Molly back to her room. Get her cleaned up and send her home with no memory of Eric.”

Tye and Todd both bowed, “Yes, my Queen.”

Derick held Beth a moment. When he noticed how shocked Sara was, he pulled her in for a group hug with Beth turning them both away from the gruesome sight until it was cleaned up. Bob Marley’s EVERYTHING GONNA BE ALRIGHT started playing.

Catherine smiled to everyone, “Everyone is welcome to stay and celebrate until dawn. Food and drink will be passed around. Feel free to come offer yourself up to the King and Queen on their wedding day.”

A line started to go up to Jen and Bill. They greeted people and drank from each. The rest of the evening was filled with love and laughter by all in attendance. The couple were ready to rule the Castle together until the end of their days.

[illyrian-of-themyscira]

A Court of Lost Things

SECOND PART

              The horse’s hooves click over the cobblestones as we make our way through the city.  People pause to wave at their prince and one woman in a tight, green dress winked with a flirty gesture and adding extra swagger.  Yet when I glanced back at Calev, he was staring straight ahead, never noticing any of the women who seem to be looking at him like some kind of delicious treat. My eyes drank in his beautiful features and in my pain-filled haze I reached up, running my fingers over his lips. As his wide eyes flick down to me with an expression I can’t understand, I suddenly realize what I’ve done. It’s like something inside me just needed…to touch him. My thumb strokes down his jaw and something sparks in me.  I quickly look away and press my hand into my lap. The same hand that I touched him with and is now tingling between my fingers. Calev lets go of the reins with one hand and braces it against my thigh.  I open my mouth to tell him to stop but then I started to sway and that hand seemed to be the only thing keeping me from tumbling off the horse.  The grand palace looms over us and the golden gates open wide, the metal groaning on its weight.  The horse stops near the stables and Calev moved, dismounting the horse. He stood before me and his hands braced my hips as he lifts me off and then shifts me into his arms.  Carrying me into the grand entrance, I tuck myself into his warm embrace. I wanted to curse at him for carrying me, for thinking I am a damsel in distress, but I said nothing because if he didn’t carry me I don’t know what I’d do. I could hardly move half of my body.  The pain climaxed through me as I tried to lift it up and everything went black.

              I drifted in and out of consciousness, hearing voices murmuring around me. I couldn’t understand one word the voices were saying, even as I tried to. Hands softly brush my hair away from my face and I sighed. It felt like a comfort and I thought it might have been my father, had I not remembered that I wasn’t anywhere near him at all. Not near my family. My home.

I blink my eyes to open and saw a shadow of a person over me. As I blinked my eyes again to see more clearly, I could see a patch of white hair and black swirls of a tattoo on the person’s neck. I closed my eyes again, too tired to keep them open. Something deep in my heart knew that Calev was different, he was something else to me.  Yet I didn’t know what.

              “I have to go, little bat. I will be back soon.  Hang in there till I come back and don’t worry, you will be safe.”  I felt a slight pressure against my head and warmth filled my body.  Calev’s lips.  When he pulled away, I heard a slight intake of breath.  “I will be back as soon as I can,” his voice sounded shocked.  Footsteps retreated and I heard the sound of the door being shut.

              I groaned as I moved to sit up but found my arms weighed down by chains.  A gasp escapes me as I look around to realize I am in a dank cell.  There were walls of brick all around me apart from the bars.  Fear creeps up to me as I call for my magic and find it flickering just out of reach.  A noise of devastation fell from my lips. Had Calev really thrown me in prison? And I just now realize that the pain I felt before is gone and that I am completely healed. I didn’t get why he would have me healed just to throw me inside of this…hellhole.  Though this wouldn’t be the end. I had my family waiting for me in some other world or reality and getting back to them was my main priority. And I know that my parents are probably trying to find ways to get me back right this very second. I tried to stand but found the chains on my hands restricted the movement.  I felt my wings rustle behind me at the movement and with a shock, I found that my magic fell away from them. They probably showed up when I was passed out.  Biting my lip, I reach deep inside where my power thundered within me, but the more I reached the farther away it slips.

              A growl rips from my chest at the inability to reach it.  In Prythian, I rival my mother and father’s powers, and being unable to reach it now made me beyond angry.  When I failed to lure my magic back to me, I look around for a weakness in the chain but to no avail.

              Feet echoed through the hall before me as a guard stops in front of my cell carrying a tray full of what I’m assuming to be food. He slides the tray towards me and starts to walk away before-

              “Wait!”  At my words the guard stops and gives me a long look.

              “What?”

              “Why am I imprisoned?”

              “That’s not for me to say,” the guard answers stiffly.

              “Come on Joseph. Surely the little creature could use an explanation,” I could hear laughter in the voice and another guard showed before the light.

              The first guard turned and gave him a look of uncertainty. “Zachariah, the king and queen-”

              “You are imprisoned due to your coming from this world called ‘Prythian’ that we have never seen or heard of before and we do not know if you are a friend or foe.  The King and Queen fear you maybe something else, like the Valg.”

              “Two things: what has the prince said about this? And what the hell is a Valg?”  I tripped over the word, ‘Valg’.

              “The prince had nothing to say because he is on a mission for a few weeks and a Valg is a demon-like creature. Absolute disgusting.” His face turned, like he smells something foul.

              “Wait, so they locked me up down here after the prince left?”

              “Well after you were well enough to be moved, but yes.”  A snarl ripped from my throat causing the guards to take a step back.  I reached out and grabbed the bread as the guards made their way back. Sniffing it to check for poison, I found none so I took a huge bite. I have to get out of these chains.  

My eyes traveled to where they were bolted to the floor.  It looked as if it had almost been melted but how could that be?  Biting my lip, I chewed on the bread thoughtfully.  If my dad were here he would probably charm the guards.  Charming things had never been my strong suit which was strange because both of my parents were good charmers. I have always seemed more like Amren, I suppose, or my aunt Nesta.  Aunt Nesta was like a viper and that’s one thing I admire about her. Tugging on the chain to test its strength, I found it to be hardened steel.  My only option was magic which I can’t use because it seems like a far away echo in my mind.  Well…I could come up with another way to approach my magic.

              For the next several hours, I try dozens of ways to get my magic to no avail.  I plunge head first; I plunge feet first; I shout; I pretend to be my father and coax it out; I whisper to it.  Nothing.  I push my hair back and a frustrated scream fell from my gritted teeth. Pulling and clawing at the chains in my anger, I do not feel the pain and the blood dripping from my fingers didn’t matter to me.  Hard stone presses into my palms as I brace my arms against the floor.  A cold seeps into my bones, one that has little to do with the moisture in the cell and more to do with the dread that is slowly taking over my mind.  My wings wrap around me, creating a comfortable cocoon of velvet black.  If I closed my eyes I could almost smell the scent of the sea, hear the roar of the ocean, feel the cool breeze on my face.  I could imagine that if I moved my wings I could dive into the waves then go back to the city to eat some ice cream and then sit with my mother at her art studio, watching her paint and laughing at the memorable stories she tells me of her past.  But I knew the moment I  move my wings away, I would still be in this dank cell with bloodied hands, a faint smell of pine which was covered up by the smell of piss and vomit.

              A thought came to me. What if I tried to slowly bring my magic to me?  So I did, inch by starry inch.  I felt night come to me as it curls around my arms then twining with the Illyrian tattoos over my chest and back.  Hour by hour, more of my magic curled around me.  Night flowed around the dark cell, stars weaved around my head.  Dancing over my wings and sliding down the claws that tip my wings.  I felt my mother’s powers start to well within me.  Not as powerful as hers but the water in the cell danced along the stars, flares of light shining in the darkness, fire joined the dance, and soon my powers were all spinning around me.

              Eyes closed, I concentrated on breaking the chains and then… The chain disappeared. I stood, my wings stretching as far as they could.  I had an impressive wingspan for a female and I was proud of that as I shook them out in the small cell.  A proud smirk pulled at my lips and I winnowed out of the cell.  Reining my powers back in, I walked up the only stairway upwards.  Ascending the mold covered stairs, I listen for any guards beyond the doors but hear none.  With another winnow I am walking through the elaborate corridors.  A group of servants’ chatter around the corner and slipping behind a pillar, I search their minds for where the throne room is.  I almost don’t find it in time but just at the last second, I find the location.  My feet make no noise as I avoid the shafts of sunlight coming from the giant windows to my right and I stick in the shadows as Uncle Azriel taught me.  Quickly and quietly, I move to the throne room.  Avoiding any guards or servants haunting the halls, I didn’t consider hiding my wings and instead choosing to show off my heritage.

              Finally, I reach the large golden doors, it depicted a mark of a stag staring at me in a wooded forest.  A hawk sits above the stag on a tree, staring at me with its hooded eyes as if debating whether or not to kill me.  Taking a deep breath and shaking out my wings, I shove the doors open and saunter into the throne room.

              Inside, I find two royals sitting upon the thrones.  A white wolf, a large leopard, and a tall male with golden hair and tan skin stood near them.  The king and queen on the throne stood as the wolf shifted into one of the most beautiful males I had ever seen. They all stood at the ready for a fight.  The queen stepped in front of all of them with a look of wrath on her face.  Before she even spoke, she launched herself at me with daggers in her hands.  I winnowed away from her and she froze, spinning with wide eyes.

              “What are you?” Her shriek filled the throne room.  As the white haired male came up behind her I realized with a start how much Calev looked like him. These were his parents.  I was surrounded now but they were no match for me.  Night started to wrap around me, readying for the attack that was to come.

              The doors burst open again and there stood Calev.  His chest heaving as if he had been running here.  Calev walked up to me, pushing past his parents to get to me.  His hand reached for my arm but I jerked away from the touch. With his back to me, he turned toward his parents.

              “What is going on here?”

              “Calev, step away from her.  She has escaped.”

              “Escaped? She wasn’t supposed to be imprisoned in the first place! I saved her because she was in trouble,” the growl in his voice and his protective stance filled the air with a haunting dread and it makes me uncomfortable. What he is insinuating was between us.

              “So you bedded the girl? Nice job, boy,” the once wolf purred at him.  Calev tensed but said nothing.  I would not be spoken of like that though.

              “Excuse me?  I am not some prize to be taken! Nor have I had any relations with this male,” I spat the word male.  “I have no idea how the hell I got here.  I don’t know any of you and I just want to go home!”  My breath came out fast and harsh now, the power I had was swirling around me now, fueled by my emotions.  Calev turns to me with a look of surprise.

              “This male? You wound me, little bat.” Calev presses his hand to his heart but I roll my eyes wanting to pluck his out.

              “I am NOT a little bat,” I snap.  His eyes flick to my wings.

              “Could’ve fooled me, little bat,” the way he enunciates the words makes me want to punch him in the face.

              “Enough,” the king says.  “What do you mean how you got here? As in how you got to Terrasen?”  I turn to the king.

              “To this world.”

 written by me First part:https://velarisoncanvas.tumblr.com/post/161524563013/a-court-of-lost-things

edited by the amazing @crazy-fangirl16

More to come!! I’ll be tagging people if they want

[tenroseforeverandever]

Three Sentence Meme / First Lines Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (or however many you have altogether). See if there are any patterns. Then, tag your favorite authors.

I was tagged by @chocolatequeennk and @doctor-who-hears-a-horton

Thanks so much, ladies. Here we go! 20 of them? Really?

Home for the Holidays (Ten x Rose; Runaway Bride rewrite with Rose; Doomsday fixit; WIP; *** the next chapter should be up later today!)

The Doctor had tried to send her away. It had been consuming Rose’s thoughts for the last month. He had tried to send her away… again.  She might have been able to buy the fact that he had just been thinking of her safety, but really, she figured it had more to do with making it easy for himself.

Untitled (52) (Ten x Rose; drabble; hurt, no comfort)

“Weeell… it’s only a very slight possibility. Genetic compatibility and all…” Those had been his exact words. And wasn’t that just like the two of them, spectacularly defying the odds?

That Treasured Sound (Twelve x Rose; Nostalgia)

The Doctor whirled around at the sound of the laugh. It was more youthful than the laugh that clung in his memories, but just as unaffected, just as natural, and just as lovely as it had been to his ears so many, many years ago.

Forgotten (Ten x Rose; heavy angst)

Wotchah, Doctah! Rose’s cheerful voice resounded through the console room, a mobile message from the past, forgotten in the aftermath of battle.

Untitled (51) (Ten x Rose; drabble)

Arms folded across her chest, Rose watched the Prindurian princess lean across the TARDIS console, flashing the Doctor a bright grin, and spouting a string of technical gibberish.

The Cupid’s Arrow (revised edition)  (Nine x Rose; Valentine’s Day)

“Honestly, Rose! The things I do for you! Your Nan’s birthday!” the Doctor whinged.

Untitled (50) (Ten x Rose; drabble; smut)

The Doctor crouched, hiding from the guards in the tiny cupboard, spooning Rose as she hunkered between his knees, her arousal thick in the air. Excitement and danger, the need for silence, always turned her on.

Untitled (49) (Ten x Rose; drabble; more smut)

“But I mean, Rose, the Big O!” the Doctor scoffed. “Bit of a rubbish description, that!”

Untitled (48): Moments Made Immortal (Tentoo x Rose; baby fic; titled untitled LOL)

Rose was tugged from slumber by soft murmurs from the nursery. Wrapping herself in her dressing gown, she stole from the bedroom and leaned against the nursery doorway to watch as the Doctor rocked their son back to sleep.

Little Madam (Tentoo x Rose; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; kid fic)

“Hope, sweetheart,” Rose sighed stoically at her five-year old daughter, “I don’t think Daddy would really appreciate you usin’ his tools for one of your projects…”

Dreaming of a White Cheddar: A Fondoodler™  Fantasy  (Tentoo x Rose; Christmas fic; eventual smut)

Walking down a busy London street on Christmas Eve, Rose Tyler congratulated herself. She had never had any problem choosing gifts for the Doctor. Big things, small things: they were all greeted with equal enthusiasm, and he loved them all. But this year, she had managed to sneak a very rare piece of alien tech out of Torchwood before the Doctor had even had a chance to get wind of it, never mind catalogue it.

A Fashionable Rescue (Ten x Rose; Jack Harkness; and two OCs (some fashionable daleks); silliness and crack; a gift for my son (he and my daughter created the dalek characters originally, and he wrote a fanfic about them. This is the sequel))

Becky wheeled into the TARDIS console room, her plunger and gun stalk, waving in agitation. “Maddie!”  She spun her dome around, searching for her sister. Spotting her on the far side of the console, she rotated her body and rushed toward her, her pink, satin gown flowing behind her. “I am getting worried, Maddie! They have been gone too long! Something must have happened.”

Untitled (47) (Ten x Rose; drabble; a little smutty)

The Doctor’s jaw dropped as Rose strolled into the console room. It wasn’t just her tiny bikini top that had him looking… weeell, trying not to look, to be honest.

Fur and Crushed Velvet (Tentoo x Rose; Hallowe’en; smut; very cheesy!)

“I vaaant to suuuuuck your blooood.”  The Doctor’s breath ghosted over Rose’s neck, sending a delightful shiver down her spine.

Untitled (46) (Tentoo x Rose; OC, CHarlotte (Charlie) Tyler-Noble; drabble)

“This won’t hurt, love. Promise.” The Doctor tugged Charlie’s hand from her swollen cheek, persuading her to let him examine her injury.

Untitled (45) (Ten x Rose; hurt, no comfort; drabble)

The TARDIS corridors chime with ephemeral echoes of golden laughter and tart remarks. Pink, tongue-touched smiles and flashes of yellow hair taunt from the fringes of his vision, darkening into shadows when he turns to follow.

Untitled (44) (Tentoo x Rose; Ten x Rose; drabble; Journey’s End)

As the TARDIS landed, the Doctor moved toward the door. He turned to look at Jackie. “Home.” The implication of that word settled in his single, throbbing heart, as he swung the door wide.

Blind Date (Ten x Rose; Pete’s World; reunion fic)

“Dad, nooooo! Please. Get someone else to do it, yeah? Dad? DAD? DAD? Fuck!” 

Untitled (43) (Tentoo x Rose; drabble)

At the Doctor’s urging, Rose lays her head in his lap. Feelings of shame and indignation over her formal reprimand slowly melt away as his fingers slip through the strands of her hair, massaging her scalp with gentle pressure, unconditional love seeping through with every touch.

Untitled (42) (Doctor x Rose; drabble)

He had been broken, chasing oblivion, when she had blundered into his life. From the moment she had taken his hand, her light had begun to mend his soul, and restore his will to live.

A Fantastic Life (Nine x Rose; Doctor x Rose; OCs, Hope and Charlie Tyler-Noble; kid fic; sappy and sentimental goodness!)

***This one is number 21, actually, but I really wanted to include it here. It is very special to me.

The Doctor staggered back into the TARDIS with Rose cradled in his arms. He had only minutes left. Already he could feel the burning tendrils of the Vortex twist and tear through his body, and in their wake, his devastated cells began to regenerate, setting his body on fire. It was all too much, too fast. But there had been no other way.

Patterns to my writing: I like to get right into the story, bring up the dilemma/problem right away, hook people in... Well, that’s the idea, anyway. In keeping with this idea, it seems I often start with dialogue and generally introduce the characters right away, rather than describing a setting.

I am tagging a few brilliant authors: @jellyneau-xo; @timeladyofthesith; @lizann5869; and @caedmonfaith

[ladystylestores]

Li Edelkoort Talks Overhauling Fashion, ‘The Age of the Amateur’ – WWD

https://pmcwwd.files.wordpress.com/2019/06/emily-bode-new-collection-02.jpg?w=640&h=415&crop=1

The Age of the Amateur isn’t just upon us — it should hang on for decades. That is one of the expectations put forward by trend forecaster Li Edelkoort, who described the waves of change crashing on the fashion industry.

As the pandemic has prompted designers, creatives and consumers to re-evaluate their personal and professional choices, the fashion system, in turn, is shifting. While the pandemic shutdown has to a large extent pulverized retail sales, employees’ jobs and consumers’ thirst for fashion, there are other factors at play. The past few months of self-isolation have led to the discovery of individualized creativity, demand for more sustainable practices, an appreciation for handmade creations and the need for imaginative fashion presentations, according to Edelkoort.

Her plans include setting up the World Hope Forum, an international alliance designed to counterbalance the World Economic Forum. The aim is “to bring new ideas on how to design new ways of doing things, innovation in the structures of companies, brands and educational institutions, etc.,” she said. Having more powerful people, who create, could lead to new searches by companies and “growth without greed,” the trend forecaster said. A cadre of WHF ambassadors will be selected and local chapters may be set up this fall. The first forum day is expected to be held next spring or summer, Edelkoort said.

“So many things need to be reset and redone that creativity will be very needed. We need to exchange ideas and learn from each other on all levels. We need to open source ideas so that we can help other people with ways of doing things,” she explained. “What I want is for the creative people of the world to be involved with the business side. There needs to be more powerful people who create. There also needs to be sustainable growth that is taking care of the planet and the people.”

While upheaval abounds in fashion retail, manufacturing, show production and pretty much every other sector of the industry, Edelkoort remains encouraged. “It’s also a beautiful moment, because we can overhaul everything. It is really the moment to reset our profession. I’m also excited about this moment because we have this opportunity,” she said.

Here, Edelkoort discusses “The Age of the Amateur,” her new hope forum.

WWD: What are your expectations for the fashion industry with so many people being devastated by all that is happening?

Li Edelkoort: It is a very difficult moment for fashion. It was difficult before COVID-19. In many fields, we see where there was difficulty before, there is even more difficulty now. It’s almost like unavoidable things are happening, because there was nothing of interest any more in several brands. American brands especially are going to be very tested. They have trained to be basic, normcore and fast. After this, we will expect other merchandise, better merchandise — with a bit more spirit and quality. Certainly, they will have to give more time to making collections. The brands that will make fewer collections will be doing better.

WWD: How are people changing?

L.E.: People are really discovering their own creativity. This sort of forced stillness helped them to start baking, mending, creating embroidery, even creating fashion or re-creating [it], singing, making music, dancing and [making] film. I call it “The Age of the Amateur” — the idea of the creative amateur is very important. Maybe one day I will want to write a book about it. I see it going on until 2050 or so. More and more people are involved with the creative flow in the public at large. It’s a very deep current that, of course, started with things like Airbnb, where everybody becomes their own hotelier. There is more and more of this initiative to maybe retail a few dresses, have a salon, do some baking, host a dinner at your table — whatever people do.

WWD: What about consumers’ interest in fashion?

L.E.: Less interest. I’m also quite sure there’s no interest, because there are no interesting things. Interest will come back as soon as it becomes interesting. Personally, I feel a very strong draw to fashion that I haven’t felt in a very long time. I think it’s because of the lockdown. I really enjoyed my clothes more than ever…we had more time to think about how to dress. It’s like I discovered my clothes and what it is to dress. I’m ready to find very new clothes. However, I will not buy much anymore. I never did. I am absolutely slowing down because I want to find the thrill of buying.

WWD: Do you see the scale of production drastically reducing as people are becoming more conscientious about their purchases, sustainability and the back stories behind their purchases?

L.E.: The planet has become more important to many people. Even after two months of lockdown, there have been real results for the planet. The air is clean, clean, clean. The water got clear and the animals are enjoying our cities. It was a very strong visual lesson…that, in fact, the only thing we need to do is to stop producing so much product and already we can solve some of these problems. Imagine that.

WWD: What else is changing?

L.E.: A few years ago I made the anti-fashion manifesto. Basically, what we wrote then is what everyone now says. In all aspects, we need to find new ways. It’s going to be different — virtual presentations, films. So far there is no one brand that has managed to do a proper exciting thing. So we’ll see what happens in the next few months.

WWD: What about the diversity problem?

L.E.: It’s a problem in the world and it’s a very big problem in fashion. The fashion world is more behind than any discipline. It’s a very white industry. First of all, there just needs to be more attention. We don’t see enough diversity in art and design collections. There we need to take the first steps so that we create the creative Id, which is colorful and diverse.

WWD: Do you think interest in influencers will fall off?

L.E.: It is such a fickle system. It became business-as-usual, which took away from the uniqueness of the system in the beginning. In a way, it’s just consumption. If there is one term we will not want to use anymore, it is “consumer consumption.” Those words just don’t sound right anymore. We need more content, more stillness. We need much more love put into the creative process. There needs to be more care for the workers. The overhaul is vast.

WWD: Have you discovered any new designers recently?

L.E.: Not really. Of course in America, Emily Bode is the frontrunner of how to do things.

WWD: Will all the shows be virtual or films?

L.E.: No, there will be smaller shows, smaller venues, more homemade. Maybe it’s just the designer and the team. There may be more local models, because who wants to take big flights? It’s barbaric to take a plane actually [now]. In many ways, it’s like starting new. There is something incredibly cute about that.

WWD: Do you expect the museum shows to be canceled for the next year or so?

L.E.: Most of the shows are canceled. We are doing a big design exhibition in September in the north of France. But most exhibitions are canceled. It’s not all gone. It’s just that everything is on hold.

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