#i wanted to play a little bit with human elias right before he was turned so if you hate it lmk and i will TOTALLY rewrite it

[lostwcnderlands]

@neonvvaves sent -> [ lovebite ] in the midst of kissing receiver's neck, sender changes tactics and gives them a tender little bite.

always accepting memes!!

" mmmm- " elias had murmured, soft && low, voice husky from sleep as he woke up to the gentle press of lips to his neck. the bite was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. he rolled over to catch alistair's eyes with his own as dawn peeked through thin curtains of his humble top-floor apartment. the bakery below was just puffing into life, early muffins && bread wafting up the walls to float through the wooden floorboards, greeting his nose with warmth && sugar scents. these moments, the writer had decided, were what heaven was made of. alistair, in his bed, fingers tangled into his - so unbelievably beautiful, elias felt he could fall right into his dark, glimmering eyes for hours. maybe he'd be fine if he never looked away. the romance was still young; but oh, elias couldn't imagine it ever ending. against the venetian backdrop, true magic had been found in his quiet little corner of the world. among ink wells && sculpture dust, the artists had fallen in love, and elias felt his heart race as he pressed a kiss deep to his lover's lips. " i like it when you bite me. " he smirked, a teasing, flirty quip in his voice. how different from the man who had trembled when asking alistair for the first date; how he'd thrown up after, in the alleyway, dizzy && giddy && feeling overwhelmed by the sheer attraction, the way his heart thundered so. this was what epics were made of, poetry was spun of. and he'd found it. he'd found alistair. or had been found. " i like it when you show me i'm yours. " he continued, body pressing close, capturing the man's face within his hands. never did he not beg for more....

it was the last memory he had of the man who had haunted his every nightmare, every daydream, every thought. the name that echoed in the tune of every song. the character he searched for in every book. this very moment, so many decades later, elias could remember every second like it had been just that morning. replaying in his mind like an eternal movie, weighing on his lifeless heart, and giving him a reason to double check every corner.

it was the last time he'd seen alistair, and the last time he'd ever felt whole. except... until now? there was a haunting familiarity about the lingering, tall, dark, handsome man in the side of his vision. even though he couldn't quite get a look at the strangers face... elias felt acutely aware of him. trying to fight the urge to stare, elias sank his teeth into his cheek, leaning && prying his neck as discreetly as possible, feeling almost sick to his stomach. it was like a dream come to life, he was so sure, he didn't need to see his eyes to just know... he felt it in his soul.

alistair. he was there, he was standing right there, and elias was definitely going to throw up. breath hitching, he panicked, palms sweating and head going dizzy, elias started to follow him as he began to step away. the vampire crossed the street without looking- he had to see him, he had to know- but if it was truly alistair, he was going to pass out.

[inquisitor-of-hearts]

Escalate (2)

After some consideration Galeb decides to not follow the Beckoning. Hazel is quick to act and entrusts him with a new task for the Camarilla.

Spoilers for all of Vampire the Masquerade: Swansong.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1,946

Link to Chapter 1

on Ao3

Oh, silver lion, playing my mind Overflow, underflow, lions just everywhere

Should I just leave it alone? It wants to enter my mind

You should not come close but You never had that chance, right?

“You can call me Galeb.”

The music provided them with a certain degree of privacy but also came with a hindrance to speech. Galeb made sure his voice came out loud and clear enough.

A gesture of his hand advised them to sit and he lowered himself onto the cushioned couch as well, adjusting his perfectly fitted black suit in the process.

“In that case, I’m Cyrene Roberts. You can call me Cyrene.” she replied and sat back down across from him, just next to her dark-skinned bodyguard. She raised her hand towards him casually once he was seated as well. “This is James Walker. We work for Mr. Elias Hartwell and represent his business interests.”

“Him too?” Galeb asked, looking towards the aforementioned man in the black suit whose lips in turn curled to a short-lived smile.

“Well, no” Cyrene chuckled softly, her head tilted a little about the slip-up, “It’s mainly me who represents the official business.”

Something in Galeb stirred. The hair on his arms stood upright like that of a mortal, or of an animal, his vitae pumping blood through his veins, reminding him faintly of mortality. But it was something else. It was in her voice, a sense of innocence, purity. Something in her undivided presence stirred him as his body mimicked the one of a human, causing a visceral reaction within him in the process. It was most likely just an image in his head, a distant memory of someone from his mortal life that she reminded him of, a hint of his humanity. The modest white suit with the light blue blouse beneath reflected her demeanour, the black light in the club gave the white colour an illuminating neon effect.

A night club waiter approached their table and Galeb was thrown off guard momentarily, a double-take towards the waiter revealed his state for a split second before they were asked about their order.

Galeb watched his company, silently inviting them to speak up first.

“Gin and tonic please.” the secretary spoke.

“Same” the bodyguard answered with a dismissive wave of his hand.

The waiter looked at Galeb.

“The usual” he ordered.

The waiter nodded and left at once.

“Come here a lot?” the woman asked, a slight look of surprise on her face.

“Occasionally.” Galeb answered truthfully. “A bit too gaudy for my taste.”

The woman nodded, the hint of a frown on her face.

“I was surprised your company insisted on a meeting in a night club. And at this hour.”

“We could turn this into a dinner meeting anytime.” Galeb spoke, his voice raspy, invoking a slight confused smile on the secretary’s face, distracting from the unreasonably late hour. He knew women all too well and had learned far too much in the past 300 years. Perhaps he could elicit a faint blush on her cheeks.

“I know a place. They serve an excellent medium-rare steak.” As if he remembered what that tasted like.

He watched her like a predator his prey. Indeed the smile that appeared on her lips was one of a flustered woman, although efforts were made to conceal it.

“That-- is not what I meant, Mr. Bazory.”

“Galeb.” he corrected her.

“Of course” she nodded, regaining her composure. “Galeb. No matter -- I appreciate you reached out to us. We would really like to work with you. There is just some-- let’s say precautions we have to take into account.”

“I understand, Miss -- or, Mis’ess? Roberts.” He tested the waters, kindly, softly. With curiosity. He looked at her hands, no ring in sight.

“Miss.” She answered, another confused smile on her lips paired with a frown, but she let it go. “Just Cyrene is fine.”

“Of course.”

“So, I’ve heard there is these assets you want Mr. Hartwell to manage. We would need to know the approximate volume of, well, the assets, contracts, stock portfolios, investments and the like.”

“Of course. Unfortunately I am just the middleman, so I know nothing about these things in particular, not the details anyway. But I would like Mr. Hartwell to meet with one of our people in charge.”

“That--” Cyrene broke in, “That is where my concerns come in. Mr. Hartwell has become very careful with who he lets close to him. There has been some asset managers in the financial world disappearing lately. It’s quite frightening news actually.”

“It is. Although the financial world has always been frightening in that sense.” Galeb remembered his life at sea, how ships were sunken in pursuit of gold and riches.

“That might be true.” Cyrene agreed, then looked up as the waiter returned to their table and served their drinks.

The tonic water in the cocktails the secretary and her bodyguard had ordered showed a similar neon reflection as the woman’s white suit from the effects of the black light. The drink set before Galeb appeared deep red in colour.

“Bloody Mary?” the woman asked curiously, her hand wrapping around her own glass.

“You could call it that. A special recipe, infused with only the best local organic ingredients” Galeb answered. Sometimes he had to hold back a chuckle. Organic. That was what they called it.

Swiftly and soundlessly the waiter had disappeared. The secretary raised her glass and watched the other two who followed suit. Their gazes meeting in understanding served as acknowledgment of table manners. She drank a few sips before she set the glass down on the coaster, the ice cubes falling into place soundlessly against the music of the club.

“To make it a bit more clear, Mr. Hartwell has become sort of reclusive in the past months. He needs a lot of trust to agree to meetings with new clients.”

“Understandable, given the recent events.” Galeb’s fingertip chased a condensed water drop on the outer side of the glass before he raised his gaze. “Would it be considered safe enough for him if you trusted someone and were present for that meeting?”

She met his gaze, stared right into him.

“I suppose. I am not sure. To be honest we haven’t taken any new clients in months. I have proposed some to him but he was not willing to take the risk.”

“He barely leaves his home anymore” James added casually under his breath.

“How does he manage the assets of his clients?” Galeb asked.

“Online mostly. Sometimes conference calls.” Cyrene responded, drawing an instant look of disgust from Galeb’s features. “And sometimes through me.”

James scratched his beard, itching to speak.

“He goes out at times to meet existing clients, but it’s very rare.”

“Yeah” Cyrene recalled, “He was meeting one of his clients a few weeks ago. But it is really rare. Only if his signature is required. But usually that too can be done online.”

“I suppose that makes you the executive.” Galeb concluded.

The woman shrugged and breathed out in half a chuckle.

“I suppose. In theory.” She smiled a little. “Look, Galeb, I’ll get to the point. I would like some statements of your assets first. I want to present them to Mr. Hartwell and see what he says. If you could get in touch with your people in the department that handles these things--”

“Oh, we currently don’t have any department.” he interrupted her matter-of-factly.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. But in any case, recent statements from whoever handles it right now. Anything with big numbers. Nothing confidential of course, just an overview of the approximate amount. And we also do a quick background check on the clients we work with, nothing major though. We don’t mean to invade your privacy.”

“I understand.” the Kindred reassured.

“Great. And I will talk to Mr. Hartwell when I receive the details from you.” she repeated herself, making it vaguely clear that the deal had not been sealed. Her fingers were around her glass again and she raised it and drank from it. James joined her, emptying his glass.

Galeb had been watching his half-downed drink but now his gaze was drawn towards her again.

“I suppose that concludes it.” She looked at James, then at Galeb again. “Oh--”

From her handbag she took out a small leather case and from that a paper card.

“Here is my business card by the way.”

The Kindred took it from her hands and looked at it. She gave him a second before she rose. James followed suit. Slowly Galeb looked up, patient in all the matters that she was hasty with. He took his time but rose eventually and with the business card in his left hand, he held out his right hand across the table.

Cyrene paused, her expression neutral but she reached out, touching his warm hand, a gesture of trust, a firm handshake to seal an unofficial deal. At least that was what it had always been for Galeb in the past centuries.

She let go finally, his fingers lingered, brushing against in inner side of her palm as he was deprived of her touch. Her eyes widened. James walked to the end of the table and let her who was seated behind him out.

Galeb followed them to the end of the table and Cyrene pulled out her wallet. Once more his fingers were laying on her hand; soft, warm, friendly.

“Please” he said, “Let me get it.”

“At least for James’ and my drinks” she insisted, “I didn’t mean to waste your time if this doesn’t work out.”

“Cyrene, please.” His hand ran towards her forearm, once more reassuringly. James' gaze followed him but he did not interfere. “It was my pleasure.”

A moment of hesitation.

“Alright.” she agreed and stored her wallet in her handbag again. “Thank you.”

“There is just one more favour I’d like to ask from you.”

Innocently she looked up at him.

“And that would be?”

He looked at her as if she was the only person in the world. Everything else vanished, she stared into his eyes, unable to pull away. Then his gaze lifted towards James who kept his respectful distance. Galeb took one step closer towards her, his hand raised subtly to touch her arm. He met her gaze once more before he leaned in, his own eyes flashing. His face came closer towards her face and ear but there was enough distance between them to not give a wrong impression. It was just so he could speak against the music without effort, his low voice dominant but calm.

“Have another drink with me at the bar. Right now, right here. We need to get to know each other. Just you and me. James will have to wait outside.”

Emem smirked, visibly trying to hide her amusement but unable to conceal her one-sided smile as she stood at the end of the bar counter and watched Galeb and his associate coming towards her. The woman had shooed her bodyguard away. He had resisted, visibly, with his hands raised signaling confusion, but it only had taken her a moment to convince him to give up and walk off.

Emem’s gaze lowered as she, through her curled lashes, watched the dark-skinned man walk out the doors and noticed Bazory’s hand barely hovering over the side of the woman’s waist, guiding and controlling. Involuntarily Emem shook her head, the smirk still on her lips. Oh, he was playing for keeps. Hazel must have given him quite the task for him to use that subtle trick on neutral ground.

[westerosoliviapope]

Auntie Dany & Prince Eggy

From the cutting board of an old story, as promised for @spookyscaryfox:

“Can I interest you in a mimosa, Auntie? A jay, perhaps?” 

Princess Daenerys turns away from the white clouds rippling beneath the plane wing like a banner in the wind to eye her nephew warily. He’s the last person she wants to be trapped on a plane with right now, but Elia wanted them to return from their respective international trips together.

From Volantis to Pentos, Daenerys appreciated blessed silence as her traveling staff gave her the space to process her loss privately before having to do so in public. 

Then, after an hour-long wait on a Pentoshi airfield, Aegon arrived.

“We aren’t going to brunch, Eggy; my mother is dead. And you’re not smoking on my plane.” 

“You’re right. Grandmother did love a good vodka tonic,” he says, retrieving a small plastic baggy full of gummy bears from a vintage leather duffle bag monogrammed with a stately “A.T. VI” before pressing the intercom. “We’d like two vodka tonics, please.”

“You carry your drugs in a monogrammed bag?” 

He blinks at her with eyes like Rhaegar’s—deep indigo opposed to the light violet of her own—with none of his seriousness. “What? They’re only illegal in Westeros.” 

Maybe vodka isn’t a bad idea. 

“How old were you when Grandmother let you have your first tonic?” Aegon asks, looking wistfully at the clear liquid in his glass. 

Dany smiles, remembering her mother’s summons in the wee hours after her fifteenth birthday party. It was a bit of a tradition in the family that when she summoned you to the Queen’s personal sitting room for a drink, she thought of you as an adult. 

“So,” her mother said in her gentle voice. “Tell me what you want to do with your life, my dear.”

To go to college—away from Westeros. To see the world and learn about life outside of palaces and stuffy old traditions. To contribute more to the world than smiling and hugging children for photo opportunities. 

She’d managed all of the above, with her mother’s ardent support every step of the way. Through six years at Sealord’s College in Braavos where she earned dual undergraduate degrees in international studies and economics, then a postgraduate degree in human rights. “Diplomacy” missions across Essos and as far east as Asshai while she raised funds to start The Mhysa Foundation, which advocated against labor-related human rights abuses all over the world. Her fervent lobbying against archaic labor laws in Astapor, Yuncai, Meereen, and Volantis that were little more than thinly-veiled slavery. 

And on the rare occasion Daenerys ended up in the tabloids for one silly thing or another (namely her weakness for the private company of tattooed Essosi futbol players), Rhaella never reprimanded her, even when Rhaegar and Elia expressed disapproval.

Gods, she missed her mother so much already. 

“Fifteen,” she finally answered Aegon. “You were a bit older, right?” 

Aegon nodded. “Nineteen. Not everyone was as wise beyond their years as you were, Auntie. Though,” he shrugs. “It could have been worse. I don’t think she had a drink with Uncle Viserys until he was twenty-one.”

That was certainly on-brand for her middle brother. “Do you remember what she said to you?” 

Her nephew cleared his throat and did his best impersonation of Rhaella’s prim, melodic voice. “‘You come from the stock of rulers and rogues, on both sides. Gods be good, you’ll be neither.’” Casting a look at the red-haired Royal Guardsman seated with the rest of the detail near the back of the plane, he smiles a wicked grin. “She was right. I much prefer to take after the women in my family.” 

Careful not to stare too hard at the older gentleman—Connington, if she’s not mistaken—Dany rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Aegon. He’s your father’s age.” 

Aegon motions for a refill. “That’s the point, Auntie. Don’t tell me you’ve never indulged in a little ‘daddy’ play? That enforcer from the Dothraki futbol team looked like the type.” 

Ordinarily, she’d indulge his need to dish; especially since it seems like he wants a distraction from his grief. But she’s in no mood to discuss her exes, least of all the one whose “sun and stars” tattoo she only recently removed from her hip bone. 

“How long has this been going on?” If the man had touched her nephew when he was underage, she’d personally have him gelded. 

“Before you start breathing fire,” Aegon held up his hand. “It’s only been since my twenty-third birthday. And I seduced him.” 

“If Rhaegar ever finds out…”

For the first time since he boarded the plane, Dany sees darkness cloud his carefree expression. “His precious heir has just given him adorable twin grandchildren. And he has a throne to ascend. Who shares my bed is the least of Father’s concerns.” 

Unfortunately, with Rhaegar and Elia on the throne, Dany has a feeling that the dating lives of all the unmarried Targaryens are about to be at the top of the list of the crown’s concerns. 

"I’m going to try to get some rest. There’s a proper mourning suit for you to change into before we land. A preview from Prada’s spring line.” 

With a smile, Aegon rises from his seat. “Princess Daenerys, Holder of Degrees, Khaleesi of Essosi Futbol Cocks, Mhysa of the Downtrodden, Procurer of Fine Fabrics for Her Favorite Nephew. Long may you reign.”  

“You’re only my favorite until little Baelon is old enough to have a Vodka tonic with his Great-Aunt.” 

Flipping her the bird, he retreats to one of the suites, leaving Dany once more in blessed silence.

____

A/N: I forgot how observant Aegon is on the low. Him saying he "takes after the women" in his family messing around with his bodyguard meant that he knew about Rhaella/Barristan and Elia/Arthur. lol

[mcx7demonbros]

Pride’s Steward

Alrighty, this fic will feature my new MC. I’ll make a masterlist and picrew for him later.

Ft. Elias, Lucifer

C/W. Cursing. Slight mention of murder, school bullying.

No proofread.

The story is partly based on The Devil’s Sooty Brother, by the Grimm Brothers

Elias didn’t know what he was doing. That afternoon, he was fired from the job which he had gotten after a rough period of trying to find a job to support himself and pay for his loan. Overwhelmed by anger and sadness, Elias went to the pub and got himself drunk.

“Damn that jerk! Die and go to hell!” Elias cursed as he remembered the image of his fat boss telling him he didn’t have to come to the company anymore and that it was a difficult period and he should be understanding for the company. At least the fat old man threw him his salary for that month.

“Mom, Dad, I’m sorry. I’m such an unfilial son.” Elias began to sob as he thought of his poor parents living in a rural region, who did their best to raise him and his sister. After his sister left a letter saying she was going to become an actress in Italy and ran away from home and had been missing ever since, Elias’s parents put all their hope on him, using all their saving to send him to the city for college and a better future. Even then, he still had to loan for the latter half of his study at college.

After crying to himself for a little while, Elias stood up from the park bench he had been sitting. Only at that time that he realized the park was extremely dark, with no light on at all. Elias felt a chill down down his spine, making him want to go back to his flat immediately.

Elias tried to get back as fast as he could, but the path he was walking and running was unending, he couldn’t leave the park no matter how hard he tried.

Am I too drunk to walk properly?

Elias finally stopped to catch his breath. That was when a mysterious figure appeared before him.

The figure was a man - a young handsome man. His attire was a bit traditional, in Elias’s opinion, with a fur-lined coat being the most noticeable.

“It’s your sadness that drew me to you. May I ask what is wrong that you look so distressed?”

Elias knew that the weird thing around him had to be related to the man standing before him, so he decided to tell the truth.

“I was fired from my job. So I have no way to support myself and pay the loan, let alone helping my parents.”

Lucifer nodded before saying: “I’m currently in need of a steward to take care of my castle. Let me employ you as my servant and you will never want for anything again for as long as you shall live. Serve me for three years, and after that you will be free. And I will teach you to play beautiful music.”

Elias pondered for a moment before nodding.

“Good, now follow me.”

Lucifer took a last glance at the young man. He recalled going to the human world to collect a prideful soul, but as he was passing Elias, some strong force kept telling him to help the distressed man without offering him immediate power in exchange for his soul. Was it pity? Was it some goodness still remained in him since he was angel before? He couldn’t be sure.

Lucifer took Elias to a large black door with a blue symbol.

“I will now cover your eyes and ears with magic. Grab my coat and keep walking like I instruct. I will take off the magic when we arrive at my castle.”

After that, Elias couldn’t see or hear anything. He grabbed on Lucifer’s coat and began to walk as Lucifer instructed. When Lucifer said “turn left”, he turned left; when Lucifer said “turn right”, he turned right.

The first thing Elias saw when he could see again with his eyes was a large room with many devil paintings and a piano.

“From now on, you will be a steward here. Your duties are to keep this place clean and tidy and make sure everything is in order. You don’t need to cook for me because you won’t see me a lot here. I will pay you every month and you can do with the money as you please. There’s a room in here that you can use to send money to anywhere in the Human World that you want. Is there any question?”

“Yes. I still haven’t got to know your name.“

“I haven’t told you my name? Listen and engrave your Master’s name to your memory. I’m Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride.” Lucifer said as he turned into his demon form.

Elias nearly said out loud “Lu…Lucifer, as in THE Lucifer?” Elias’s parents were religious so he had heard about Lucifer and his rebellion against God from his parents in their bedtime stories.

“You look even more worried now, huh.” Lucifer chuckled.

“I’m fine. By the way, is there something I should never do while I’m here?” Elias tried to change the subject.

“A clever servant. I like that. There are two things you should never do. First, never leave the castle’s grounds. You’re in literal Hell. Hence, I covered your eyes and ears before so that you couldn’t see or hear the cries of the damned nor the wicked cackle of demons. This castle is the only place that is save for you.”

“And the second thing?”

“Second, never enter the basement and open the doors in it. If you do not listen to me, you would be sorry.”

“Alright, got it.”

Lucifer was preparing to take his leave when he remembered something.

“How rude of me! I forgot to ask your name.”

“My name is Elias, um Sir, no Master.”

“E-LI-AS.” Lucifer pondered the name for a little bit before laughing and left using some magic.

Over the next few days, Elias did as he had been told: cleaning, tidying, keeping everything in order. He helped his parents a lot while he was still staying with them so the job wasn’t difficult to him at all. He also cooked (for himself) since the kitchen was always in abundance of cooking ingredients and read the books he found in the library.

After a week, Lucifer came back to check on him. He was pleased to find the castle clean and in order. He thought to himself at least he wouldn’t regret over hiring some human to be his butler. As promised, Lucifer taught Elias how to play the piano and some other music that can only be found in the Devildom.

Thus, the cycle was established, Elias would keep the castle clean and in order. When Lucifer returned once or twice a month, the demon would pay him and teach him some music.

However, Elias was curious of what was in the basement. Lucifer did not give any explanation like he did with never going outside the castle’s grounds. His curiosity got the better of him, and one day, when he was sure Lucifer wound’t come as he was familiar with the cycle of coming and going of his Master, he entered the basement, using the keys given to him.

Once in there, Elias found himself in a large maze with unending corridors and doors. His instincts told him to turn back but his curiosity won again. Elias went to a door and opened it.

Inside, Elias found someone being broken on a wheel. As Elias came close, he realized the person was his class monitor when he was in high school back when he was still living in the countryside. The class monitor, as Elias remembered, was a good student in front of his teachers, but behind their backs, he was a brat who considered himself the king of the class and forced everyone to serve him and bullied those who went against him. He would beat anyone who dared to get higher score than him in tests. Every teacher believed him because he was a good student in their eyes. The guy was only unmasked when they found him murdered in the pub in their last year of high school.

“Elias, you’re Elias, right? Elias, help me! It’s so painful here.” The class monitor cried to him.

Seeing the class monitor begging him only made Elias disgusted.

“Well, well,” Elias said “so there you are! Once you had me in your power, but now the boot is on the other foot!”

Elias began to spin the wheel faster. One, two, three,…ten rounds, until his class monitor had become meat paste. Once he was done, Elias left the room and closed the door.

Elias moved to the second room. There, he found his former homeroom teacher while he was in high school, also on a wheel. The homeroom teacher was also a prideful person who looked down on her students, colleagues and other staff at school, like janitors. Elias was amongst the students she had treated harshly and unfairly as his family didn’t have any power at the place they were living. The only ones she feared and used her tongue to flatter were old men in school management. Hell, Elias even believed she slept with the principal. Though everything went downhill for her after the death of the class monitor as she was also responsible for his wicked behavior at school. She died in the car crash the following winter.

“Well, well,” Elias said “so there you are! Once you had me in your power, but now the boot is on the other foot!”

Elias began to spin the wheel as fast as he could. One, two, three,…ten rounds, until the pathetic teacher turned into meat paste.

Not yet satisfied with his curiosity, Elias went to the third room. There, he saw an old man who was mostly naked. Coming closer, Elias realized the man was the pastor priest of the church he went to when he was still living with his parents. In his memory, the priest was an uncharitable man. He always had that Pharisee look on him like he was the only holy one in the town, while everyone else was a sinner. The man was also greedy and used donations from the faithful for himself. Elias once told his parents that he suspected the priest must have misused the donations they gave to the church but his parents scolded him “Don’t judge!” “He’s a priest, he knows how things should go for the good of the faithful that you don’t know.” Fortunately, there were also other people who noticed something was wrong and filed their complains to the bishop, who intervened and removed the priest. From what Elias heard, the priest was sent to a monastery. According to a letter from his parents, the priest had died in winter last year, due to pneumonia.

“Elias, is that you? Son, please release me from this chain and help me out of this painful place.”

In reply, Elias grabbed the priest’s beard and pulled it, making him groan in pain.

“Well, well, so there you are! Once you had me in your power, but now the boot is on the other foot!”

Elias then tore the wicked priest’s beard, before spinning the wheel with all his might, turning the priest into meat paste.

“Satisfied?”

Elias froze the moment he exited the room as Lucifer was standing in the corridor, waiting for him.

Oh shit!

“Master, I’m sorry. I couldn’t contain myself and wanted to satisfy my curiosity.” Elias bowed and confessed his fault.

“It’s lucky that you only encountered those whom you hate and you add more pain to their punishment instead of trying to relieve them, or you would have been mine.” Lucifer turned to the door leading up to the castle. “Let’s leave. In next room may not be someone you want to see down here.”

Elias followed Lucifer back to the castle. Over the next three years, Elias served the Avatar of Pride faithfully. Overtime, the Morningstar gave his steward more power, letting him help with the paperwork he had to bring back to his Ring. Elias also became responsible for making hell coffee for Lucifer whenever he had to return to his castle to work in his Ring. The two became closer as Lucifer told Elias about his brothers, about his demanding boss with the name of Diavolo, and about RAD and the upcoming exchange program. Beside piano, the prideful demon also taught Elias some demonic magic, making him a warlock.

Time flied fast, and soon it would be the end of the three-year employment period. However, something was occupying Lucifer’s mind at the moment.

“You still have a headache over choosing the second exchange student from Human World, Master?” Elias asked despite knowing the answer as he placed a cup of hell coffee on the table.

“Yeah.” Lucifer sighed as he sipped the coffee. Then he looked at Elias for a long while. One thing he noticed about the hell coffee made by his steward was that it had become more and more awfully bitter over these three years. Elias must have bore feeling for him but he must leave soon. Lucifer felt uncomfortable and sad that Elias was leaving. He knew Elias wanted to stay too but an employment contract between a demon and a human couldn’t be changed. When the employment period ended, Elias had to leave.

Lucifer’s eyes then wandered to the documents on his table before a light bulb sparked in his head.

“Elias, how about you becoming our second human exchange student?” Lucifer smiled at his steward.

“Is that allowed? I mean, I haven’t been to the Human World for three years, except on some days off you gave me. I’m sure my profile isn’t in that paper mountain.”

“Not to worry. I could pull some strings to get your profile in.”

“Then I shall do my best as an exchange student, Master.”

“From now on, drop the “Master” and “Lord”, we will soon be fellow students and housemates.”

[ghostbustermelanieking]

Number 17 (kissing to hide from bad guys) for the fic prompts? Bonus points if it's from one of the earlier seasons (maybe when they're still actively researching statements?) but the choice is entirely yours

so this is set in s3, sometime after 102. (possibly an au... who's to say!!) as such, warning for references to jon's kidnapping in 101, and scenes of people think they might be taken/killed/etc.

17. Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys

" Here, " Jon whispers in a panic in Martin's ear, and pulls him abruptly towards a shadowy spot in an alley. Martin goes along immediately, pressing towards the wall while also trying to push himself in front of Jon. Jon's breathing is sharp and frantic, his hand tight where it's clutching at Martin's arm, and the footsteps of their pursuers are still echoing slowly down the street. 

This was meant to be a work trip—or whatever passes for that these days. Another attempt to locate the ritual site for the Unknowing. Elias had suggested Jon go, and Martin hadn't wanted him to go alone. That's the last thing Jon needs, after everything, after being held captive for a month… Martin hadn't been willing to risk it, the possibility of Jon being taken again. 

It wasn't supposed to be dangerous, Elias had said. Just a simple scouting, it probably wasn't the site in the first place, the Stranger might not even be there, surely the fact that Jon had escaped so easily meant they wouldn't come after him again… 

This is clearly not true. They'd been spotted, inside the warehouse where they'd been searching. Martin can remember the moment with a shocking clarity: Jon's sharp intake of breath as he'd reached out to grab Martin's arm, his nails digging frantically into Martin's skin, the slow way Martin had looked up and seen it. Them. Things that looked wrong, inhuman, in a way that Martin can't even describe.

They've come after them. Followed them out of the warehouse, onto the street, and of course no one is around to see them, and Martin knows they should've gone for the rental car, should've immediately gone for the rental car, but they'd taken some wrong turns, frantic to get away from the blank-faced figures (the cheery voice calling for the Archivist and asking about his skin, and Martin is going to throw up). And now they're here, hiding in some alley while these things pretending to be human are searching for them, coming for Jon all over again. 

Jon's breathing has gone shaky. He's pulling at Martin's arm like they can get any further into the wall. Martin's got an arm in front of Jon, like they're in a car about to crash, and he's staring out at the alley, waiting for those things to catch up, and he says the first thing he can think of, in a whisper: "I-I won't let them take you again." 

Jon's breathing goes tighter somehow. "Martin, you can't… "

"I'm not going to let them take you, Jon!" Martin hisses, his voice pitching too high for a moment. Jon squeezes his arm frantically and he backtracks, quieter: " Sorry, sorry, it's just… I'm not letting that happen to you again!"

"They'd kill you," Jon whispers. "They wouldn't hesitate , Martin, and I am not… I am not losing anyone else!"

The footsteps echo closer; the echoing sing-song-y voice comes again, calling for Jon. Panic slices through Martin like a knife and he presses closer, as if physically shielding Jon will do a damn thing. (Maybe it will. You never know; maybe it will.) "W-we should run for the car," he says. (Although at the moment he has absolutely no idea where they parked it.)

"We'll never make it," Jon murmurs. Martin turns a little in time to see Jon, who's staring off into the distance with wide, haunted eyes. "We need to hide. " 

Martin looks back towards the street, at the approaching shadows. "I'll distract them," he says—one last ditch effort to at least get Jon to safety. "A-and you run."

"What? No. Martin." Jon's voice is pressing now; his hand slips from Martin's arm down to Martin's hand, intertwining their fingers. Martin looks back, startled, and finds Jon staring at him nervously. "Martin, do you trust me?" he says, voice wavering. 

Martin blinks a few rapid times. "Wh-what?" he says, caught off guard; he holds tighter to Jon's hand, suddenly worried that Jon is going to run out and distract them so Martin won't have to. 

Jon exhales frustratedly. "It's just that… I have an idea of how we could hide, and i-it's a little unusual, and stupid, a-and so I wanted your… to make sure you are all right with it first…"

The voice is getting closer. Panic snaps through Martin, and he hisses frantically, "Yes, whatever, it's fine, j-just do it before…" 

Jon lets go of Martin's hand and moves, in a flash, to cup the side of his face, both hands, and Martin only has a moment to wonder what the hell is going on before Jon rises on tiptoes, pulls Martin down a bit, and kisses him. 

Martin's brain shorts out for a moment—stuck between the marvel of him kissing Jon, Jon kissing him—and the panic of the fact that they're being chased by mannequin-things that will probably skin them. He makes a muffled, startled sound into Jon's mouth. Jon's hands are trembling on his face. 

Then the pieces start to slide together—Jon's doing that movie bit, where you kiss to hide from the bad guys. Quite possibly ridiculous, but it's something, something more than one of them being bait. (And to be entirely ridiculous for a moment… if they're both about to die, Martin's glad he's gotten to kiss Jon before he's done it.) So Martin plays along. He leans down and turns them a bit, so Jon's in the corner between the Dumpster and the wall, and his back is blocking the both of them from view; he'll look more inconspicuous than Jon will. 

And then he kisses Jon back. Tentatively, at first (just because you kiss someone to hide from monsters or whatever doesn't mean you actually want to kiss them), and then a little deeper. The way he's wanted to kiss Jon this whole time, as long as he's ever thought about it. He brings a hand to Jon's face, too, thinking to hide it from the Stranger. Pushes a little bit of hair behind Jon's ear. Jon leans into the touch; his right thumb moves, slowly, over Martin's cheek, and Martin has to hold back something that might be a sob. He leans closer, their foreheads almost touching, trying to focus on the fact that there are things trying to kill them, and not just on the fast that he is kissing Jon… 

Jon breaks away abruptly. Pulls back just far enough that their mouths aren't touching anymore—his hands still on Martin's face—and says, "I… Martin, I-I think they're gone now." He is breathing hard, his eyes darting over Martin's shoulder and then back. 

Martin is probably breathing hard too. He is drawing a blank; his hand is still in Jon's hair. "They're… they're gone?" he says, still in a whisper. His voice is shaking, he thinks. 

"Yes… yes, they're gone now." Jon looks right at him, his dark eyes huge in the dim light of the alley. "Martin… Martin, I am so… " 

"Car," says Martin. It is the first word he comes up with—they need to go, there are still things trying to kill them, and they can't just stand around talking when… He grabs Jon's hand where it's lowering, somewhere around his neck, and squeezes urgently. "Jon, car, we need to go… "

" Christ, I forgot, I…" Jon shakes his head hard and moves with Martin towards the opposite end of the alley. He doesn't let go of Martin's hand, all the way to the car, where they've left it two blocks away. Martin climbs immediately in the driver's seat, and turns the key, and drives off without hesitation, too fast to even buckle his seatbelt. 

There is silence in the car for a moment, as they drive away. Martin grips the wheel hard and stares straight out of the front window, unsure of what the hell to say. (Unsure whether to say Thank you for coming up with a plan to save our lives, or You just kissed me in an alley, maybe we should talk about this? or I've been in love with you for about a year now, and I guess you beat me to the punch, except I don't know if you actually MEANT it. ) But in the end, it's Jon who breaks the silence—to say, in a tight, rigid voice, "Martin, I am so sorry."

Martin's hands actually tighten around the wheel somehow. "Wh-what?" he says, uncertain. "What do you mean… Jon, you saved us."

"Th-that was entirely unprofessional, I… I shouldn't have kissed you like that, I just… I-I was afraid they'd find us, and it was all I could think of, and I just…" Jon's blushing. Martin can see it out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Martin takes a shaky breath. He must be blushing, too, he thinks; his face and neck feel like they're on fire. He says, "You don't have to be sorry," just as Jon says, "I-I didn't want to go back." Martin's mouth shuts like a trap as Jon keeps talking: "I… if I went back, I think they would have… and I didn't want… and I thought if they took you… th-they would've killed you, Martin, and I wouldn't… I didn't…"

"It's okay , Jon," Martin blurts, and as soon as he says it, he finds he means it. "It is. I… I was scared, too."

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have brought you, Martin, I should've left you at home…"

"Did you forget the part where I insisted on coming?" Martin laughs a little. "I… I'm glad you weren't here alone, Jon. I didn't want them to take you again. I…" He swallows hard, stares out at the road in front of him. One of his hands falls away from the wheel, towards the center console. "Please don't say you wish I hadn't been here. Please."

Jon's quiet for a moment. The only sound is the tires chewing up the road beneath them, before he finally says, "Still. I-I never should have kissed you, Martin. I am so… "

"Jon, you don't… y-you don't need to apologize, okay? You don't, " says Martin. "It's okay, it's fine, it was… I-I didn't mind, all right? You don't need to apologize."

"I… I should have clarified. I didn't really ask before I…"

" Jon. Please, it's okay. " Martin reaches for something else to say, and all he can come up with is: "I have had much worse kisses, okay? Much worse."

Jon laughs, a laugh sharp with surprise. After a moment, Martin laughs, too. This whole night has been so absurd. They were chased by some mannequins or whatever, they had to run for their lives, and Jon kissed him, and he kissed Jon, and they're alive. It's pretty hilarious, if you think about it for more than five minutes. It's about as absurd as anything else they've been through in the past year. He'd take this all over being trapped by worms. 

"I… I have, too, actually," says Jon, finally, after they've stopped laughing. " Much worse. You're not…" He stops, makes a strangled noise like he's embarrassed or something, before going on. "Th-thank you, Martin. Really."

Martin chews at his lower lip. "Thank you, " he says. "For… for getting us out of there." 

Jon takes a shaky breath. His fingers brush over Martin's free hand, where it's resting over the center console; Martin tenses all over, automatically, but Jon doesn't take it. Just brushes his fingers there. Martin thinks of Jon's expression before he leaned up to kiss him, Jon's fingers against his cheeks. 

"I… I should've left you at home," Jon says, almost reluctantly. "But I'm… glad you came with me, Martin. I'm glad you're with me."

Martin swallows hard. Bites back a small smile. He'd meant it, when he kissed Jon back; he wishes he could tell Jon he meant it. (He could, he supposes. Nothing stopping him. He wonders what Jon would say back.) 

But what he says is, "I am, too," because it's a sort of a confession, and he means it, too, as much as the kiss. Even with the almost dying, with all of it, he's glad, somehow, he was here. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jon smile, just a little. Martin smiles, too.

[whumpingcrow]

Pt. 17 "Pet Show"

CW: unconscious whumpee, low self worth, creepy/intimate whumper, drugs/alcohol (explicit), injury mention/descritption, past torture mention, tics/tourrettes, gaslighting/emotional whump, pet whump, whumpee wearing a collar, dubcon (explicit), noncon (descriptive, explicit, 18+ please), multiple whumpers (let me know if I missed anything!)

Elias woke up in a soft bed, legs tangled up in thick, pleasantly warm blankets. He felt groggy and heavy, like he'd been underwater for years. He looked up at the window next to him, at the bright light shining through and the trees swaying softly in the breeze. When he sat up, he felt a dull pain in every limb, every inch of his body, and he whined loudly. He had to remind himself where he was, in France with August, but he couldn't remember the last thing that happened before falling asleep. He was in chains, August had a bat...he had a taser, at some point...what next? What caused all this horrible, gnawing pain?

He pushed himself out of bed, sighing as he tried to stretch out his tense muscles without hurting himself. He looked around the room, at how neat it was, at the expensive looking furniture and the lavish sheets. It felt wrong, too nice, like it was wasted on him.

"August?" He called out as he padded down the hallway. His voice came out raspy and broken up like he'd swallowed glass. At this point he wouldn't be surprised if that'd happened, with everything else August had done to him. When he got out to the living room, August was standing up and rushing toward him, a bright smile spread across his face. Elias stopped in his tracks, he didn't think he'd ever seen anyone, especially August, look so happy to see him.

"You're awake!" He breathed. "I was starting to worry about you. How do you feel?"

Elias shrugged, holding his breath when August closed in on him. He didn't look mean or threatening, but Elias didn't want to let his guard down too much, just in case. "I'm sore, is all." He was lying of course, he was nervous and confused and in so much pain it made him feel ages older, but August looked worried enough. He shouldn't be worried, he didn't need to waste his energy.

"You've been out for a few days. My friend said you were just having a rough come down but I...I was really worried." He reached out timidly and stroked Elias's hair out of his face. "You'd wake up for a few minutes at a time and say stuff to me, but you weren't making any sense."

Elias frowned at him. It had been days? That explained the heaviness, the confusion. He stepped forward, until he was pressed against August's chest, and closed his eyes. "I can't remember what happened."

"Well uh...what's the last thing you do remember?" August led him into the living room, holding him close as they sat down.

Elias thought hard for a moment, thinking back to the chains. It was painful to think about, how badly it hurt, how scared he was. He vaguely remembered someone else being there, he remembered being left alone for a long time, he remembered thinking his arm was going to snap off of his body. But he couldn't remember the chains being taken off, or leaving the basement. "Um...we were in the basement. I was chained up and there...there was someone else there with you. That's it."

August sighed at that, a sound of disdain, of disappointment. Elias cowered away a little, terrified of displeasing him. "After that, you didn't want to go to sleep so we did some coke. We went out to the bar, remember that?"

That was right, the sea of bodies, the too loud music and too close strangers. It was overwhelming, even as a memory, and he tried to keep his tics contained when he got nervous. "Yeah, a little."

"Good. That's good, baby." He patted his thigh gently, watching Elias relax at the praise. "After that I took you to a diner. You were upset, you were very tired."

Elias nodded eagerly, now aching, yearning, for more affection, more praise. "Yeah, you were gonna sober up and take me home."

August smiled softly, proud, almost, and reached up to pet his cheek. "That's right, love." He cleared his throat, looking down at his lap. "You fell asleep at the diner, and after I sobered up we went home, and you stayed asleep. But then the next morning you wouldn't wake up, not all the way at least, and not for very long. And the next day either. So I had a friend, he was a doctor for awhile, come look at you, and he said you'd be alright, so I was just waiting it out."

Elias frowned at how pained his voice sounded, how he seemed actually, truly, concerned for his well being. "I'm ok now, August. Don't look so sad. Please."

August smiled sadly at him, nodding dismissively. "I have something for you," he said suddenly, standing up, "wait here, close your eyes."

In spite of himself, Elias smiled softly and did as he was told. He had to admit, it was nice to have August acting so kind, because he knew it was just acting. So maybe it was ok to let himself indulge a little, to allow himself to be spoiled and praised and fawned over like a prize when August wanted to do that. He didn't deserve it, he knew that, but if August could act like he cared, Elias could act like he was worthy of it, act like it didn't make his skin itch in self doubt.

Elias felt the couch sink down next to him when August returned, then flinched hard as something was wrapped loosely around his neck. He should have known, he should have expected that the play-pretend wouldn't last long, that he would hurt him when he was bored again.

"Relax, baby. Not gonna hurt you." He fastened whatever it was around his throat, kissing his jaw softly. "Wow," he breathed, "look at you, Elias. My beautiful boy."

Elias pulled his hands away from his face, brushing his fingertips against the thing August fastened there, confusion written on his face. "What...?" He whimpered.

August pulled him to his feet and led him down the hallway, to a huge, floor length mirror against the wall near the bathroom. Initially, Elias was breathless and speechless at the condition he was in, pale and bruised and sickly. August always made him look and feel like some sort of ghost, sometimes Elias had a story in his head that he had really stayed dead when August choked him and now he was just cursed to haunt him the rest of forever. Except, it felt more like August was the one haunting him, most of the time. Still, sometimes it just made things easier when he told himself things like that, made it all feel less real. But then his focus shifted from how awful he looked to the thing around his neck, leaned closer to inspect it. It was leather, thick against his skin, with a tiny pendant hanging from the end, embedded in jewels. It was a collar, he realized, and his stomach tightened in an uncomfortable, confusing knot.

He was just a pet, he wasn't a human, a person, just like he knew already. He was not on August's level, or anyone else's for that matter, and he shouldn't be loved or cared about in the way a human should be. He existed solely to please others, specifically August, to be used by them, to be fawned over and stroked and paraded around and have stress and anger and pain taken out on him. The collar meant he was owned, he belonged to August, as his plaything.

But on the other hand, it meant August cared about him enough to make him wear his ownership. He belonged to August and he was going to make sure Elias and everyone else knew. In a sick way, the most twisted way imaginable, it reminded him of a wedding band. When he got a closer look, the tag had "Bunny" engraved on it, and he bit his lip. It wasn't even his own name.

"You just look absolutely darling in that, little one." August cooed, slipping his arms around his waist easily, kissing his temple. Elias leaned into his grip instinctively, obediently, and put on a weak, not quite genuine smile.

It was humiliating and scary and wrong, but whatever it took to make August play nice with him, whatever it took for him to touch him so tenderly and say such sweet things, he would do it. It didn't hurt this way, and being humiliated by being lovey dovey with him was a little more bearable than being chained up again. He would do anything to avoid that happening again. "Thank you," he choked out. He tried to sound genuine and appreciative, he truly did, but it felt like he couldn't speak around the collar. It wasn't tight, not tight enough to matter, anyway, but the presence of it around his neck felt the same as a gag.

The way August held him there, kissing on him, pressing close against him, was familiar. Elias realized, he'd been out of it for days now, which meant August hadn't been able to take what he always wanted, at least not from him. And he really hoped not from anyone else. He wondered if he was the first person August had put a collar on. He wondered if he'd put one on Allen, then felt like vomiting when he found himself hoping that he hadn't.

Eager to please, Elias turned toward him and wrapped his arms tight around his neck, brushing their lips together gently. August hummed, hands gripping his hips tightly. "Thank you," he whined again, this time drawn out nice and slow, how he knew August liked to hear it.

"What do you think you're doing, bunny?" August teased him.

I want you to tell me you love me again, he thought, I want you to tell me I'm good and important and worth something, even though I'm not. I want you to lie to me.

"Please touch me," he begged instead, "please." Because he knew he didn't get to want things, because he knew August liked when he begged, because asking to be touched was so much simpler than asking August to pretend that he cared about him.

So August did, he took him back to the bedroom and undressed him, everything was off now but the collar, and touched him until he was shaking, until he was defiled and sensitive and tired. He pushed Elias until it was too much, and then he pushed more. He loved it when Elias was asking to be done and trying to contain his discomfort by biting his tongue, but he liked it even more when he couldn't even help the noises coming out of his pretty mouth, or his body twitched and trembled underneath his hands or a weapon, or tears were streaming down his face helplessly. He was so beautiful, crying out his name and gripping at the sheets desperately.

When it was finally over, Elias was disappointed that he hadn't gotten through it without pain, like the last time. He had hoped that he would please August enough into not hurting him, but he could feel the burns around his wrists from the ropes and he could could feel the bruises on his arms from struggling as he was pinned down, and he could taste blood in his mouth from being hit. Hadn't he been good? He'd been asleep for days, how could he have messed up? Maybe that was it, that he had been asleep for days and August had to wait for him. He couldn't help that, but he knew August didn't care.

He watched from his spot on the mattress as August sat up, reaching over to grab a joint from the bedside table. He lit it up, allowed the smoke to curl around his head. He looked at Elias with a warm smile, then laid back next to him and pressed it to his lips. He didn't ask if he wanted any, he didn't have to, because Elias didn't have the luxury to want. He didn't get to say that he was afraid of being high again, that the idea of falling asleep for days and days again frightened him even more than August did. So he inhaled, and then he felt the familiar haze drape over him. Time slowed a little, his throat burned, the room seemed distant from him, like looking at it through the lens of a camera, not his eyes.

"How's your shoulder?" August checked, his tone actually concerned. Elias didn't know what was going through his head, with all of this back and forth of caring about him and then slamming his fist against his face for no apparent reason.

"What?" Elias coughed.

"Your shoulder. It was bothering you the other day. How is it?"

"Oh. Um...fine." he stretched his arm out, wiggled his fingers to show August. He could see the bruises peppering his skin, and he sighed. He was surprised when August wrapped his fingers tenderly around his wrist, smiling at him.

"You are so beautiful, my angel," he cooed softly, fingers trailing over the injuries on his arm, "my perfect little bunny." Elias was soft and pliable under his grip, but his eyes were wide with apprehension. He was still slightly riding on adrenaline, ready to run or struggle at any second, if August decided he wasn't done with him yet, after all.

"Now that you're awake," he said, sitting up to look at him, "I was going to have some friends over. I figured it would be more fun with you conscious."

Elias frowned; the last time he was introduced to August's friend flashed into his mind, he was reminded of the cold chains and the shock of the taser. He was scared again, and he wanted to tell August that he didn't feel good, that he wanted to just lay in bed and be alone for awhile. He imagined that August would just laugh at him. "I uh...o-ok." He forced a small smile, knowing that if he agreed out front it would save him a world of trouble. August seemed pleased with that, and he sat up with a hum.

"Let's get you looking presentable then, huh?" He remarked, pulling Elias to his unsteady feet.

Elias felt nothing short of a centerpiece, an ornament, arm candy. He was put into a loose white button up, that was only buttoned to his ribs to really show the collar August insisted he kept on, along with a tight pair of black shorts. While August was helping him brush his teeth he had a chance to look over himself in the mirror, and he looked horrible. The older bruises were a green and yellowish hue, while the new ones were bright red, the shade they only stayed for mere hours before blossoming to purples and blues. August made sure to wipe the blood from his face, but he couldn't change the scrapes and cuts that were slowly healing. Not that he seemed to care much, and Elias was sure his friends wouldn't care much either.

Once people started to arrive, Elias was discarded on the couch, watching the flow of expensive looking people come in, grab glasses of wine, laugh and speak with August like they knew him. Elias didn't fit in, he knew that. He was raised from trash, with no family, fending for himself, and now he was sitting here wearing a collar like some sort of animal. He was less than them, and the realization made him want to crawl under the covers and hide away from all of their patronizing gazes.

"Aw, quel mignon petit animal de compagnie." What a cute little pet. Someone was saying a few feet in front of him. He glanced up for a second to see an older woman in an elegant black dress eyeing him, a tall glass of dark wine resting at her hip. He hated the way she looked directly at him, with her thin lips tipped up in a smile. "Tu veux une cigarette, chiot?" You want a cigarette, puppy? She eyed his collar, then quirked an eyebrow up. "Ohh, il est un lapin. Cigarette, lapin? Ou vin?" Oh, he's a bunny. Cigarette, bunny? Or wine?

Elias blinked at her with his wide, nervous eyes, then began to search for August amidst the people. Of course he wasn't anywhere close. He recognized the word cigarette, and when he looked back to the stranger she was moving to sit next to him with one extended. Elias didn't protest as she popped one into his mouth, lighting it up for him. She sat so close to him, her round thighs pressing against his bony, cut up knees.

"Thank you," he whispered after the cigarette was lit, lifting a trembling hand to hold it in between his knuckles. How where his knuckles also bloody? What happened to them?

"Ah, tu es américain?" Ah, you're an american? She mused, trailing her manicured fingers over the bruises on his cheek. "Tu ne parles pas français?" You don't speak french?

Elias chewed at his lip, shaking his head at her to try and get her to understand that he couldn't talk with her, wishing she'd leave him alone when she realized. He began to search for August again, taking a long drag of the cigarette. He wished he could have some booze, but he was too afraid that he'd wake up days later again with no memory of what happened. Elias couldn't decide if it would be better or worse to not remember this strange woman touching him, stroking his injuries like prizes and talking to him in that condescending, playful voice. As he thought it, another hand snuck into view, this one holding a large glass of a dark amber drink, and he looked up to see an older man staring down at him hungrily, shaking the glass at him.

"Petit garçon besoin d'une verre, oui?" Little boy needs a drink, yes? He mumbled to the woman. His voice was gruff and had an edge to it, and Elias was frightened enough by that alone to take the glass that was pushed toward him quickly. He downed some of the bitter drink, chasing it with the cigarette with a grimace. "Il est parfait." He's perfect.

"Oh, oui. Regarde sa bouche." Oh yes. Look at his mouth.

Elias's skin crawled at the way they spoke, their eyes taking him all in, her hands all over his face, poking and prodding and dissecting, almost like they were shopping. He wanted August. He hated that he did, but he couldn't help but ache to be in his sure, strong arms to shield him from their touch. With a huff, he polished off the drink, setting the glass down feather soft on the coffee table.

"Viens, mon cher," come, my dear, the woman spoke, standing up with a sigh. He frowned when one of her long fingers looped through his collar and hoisted him up with her. "Je veux utiliser ta bouche." I want to use your mouth.

"I have to wait-" he gasped, stumbling a little as she dragged him along behind him, "August wanted me on the couch. Please, I have to wait for him." She ignored him, and he could only whimper hopelessly as she shoved him into an empty bedroom in the hallway. She turned the light on as they entered, kicking the door shut behind her. He was mortified when she locked the handle.

He let out a whine when she forced him down onto his knees by his collar, until his cheek was pressed against the soft carpet and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. "Please," he rasped out, trying not to shake in the uncomfortable position she held him in, "st-stop please."

"Ah, chante pour moi, lapin." Sing for me, bunny. She stood up, allowing him to raise his chest only about an inch before her sharp heel dug into his spine and forced him back down. Her drunken giggle rang out seconds after his broken cry of pain. Elias didn't dare struggle against her, but his breathing was coming in hitched, desperate whimpers. He tried to think of the french word for please, for stop, but he knew nothing but "yes" and "thank you", and there were no two terms he wanted to say less just then.

Soon enough she removed her shoe from his back, allowing him to right himself partially. He was looking up at her with a fearful grimace, shoulders rising and falling unevenly. The look on her face was shockingly familiar, Elias had seen it on August countless times. She was drunk on the power she had over him, high on how much control she had over him right then. And August seemed to like when Elias gave himself up just a little more when he was already beyond helpless. It made him a little softer, usually, if Elias played it just right. So he took a shallow, shaking breath, and then he fought the pink blush he knew was on his cheeks when he forced himself to choke out "M...Merci."

"Oh, lapin," Oh, bunny, she moaned, crouching down in front of him and grabbing his face, "très bien ! Bien garçon." Very good! Good boy. She ruffled his hair gently before she stood straight again. She sounded overjoyed, and Elias was relieved that it had worked. He'd done good, thanked her for the humiliation and pain just the way she would like it, and she was happy. For a moment, it looked like she might turn to leave, but then she grabbed a handful of the skirt of her dress and began hiking it up. Elias felt an uneasy sinking in his stomach as he watched her, suppressing a shudder when he realized what was happening.

"I...I can't do that. August would be...would be so upset. Please don't." All of his words fell short on her, and she grabbed at his collar again, pulling him closer. He tried to tip his head away from her, but then her fingers were in his hair and forcing his head forward and he couldn't do anything, he wasn't allowed to say no, he wasn't allowed to fight back. August told him he existed to be used, and she was just using him.

And soon she was moaning, pulling at his collar hard to get him closer, saying things he didn't understand, in a voice that made him feel filthy, and he felt like he was out of his body watching it all unfold. His knees hurt, his neck hurt, his spine was aching. When she finally decided she was done, she shoved him off of her, panting as she dropped her dress. He choked back tears, watching her hopefully. He wished he understood her so she could tell him he'd done well. Had he done well? He wasn't sure, he'd never done that before. Finally, she reached down and wiped his bottom lip gently, smiling. "Attends ici." Wait here.

With that, she turned on her heel and left, shutting the door behind her and leaving him there. He was too afraid to move, staying on his knees with his head tipped downward and eyes squeezed shut. Whatever drink the strange man had given him didn't do enough to quiet the horrible dread in his chest, but at this point he wasn't sure if anything would.

When the door opened again, the woman had returned along with the man from before, and Elias only looked at them for a second before turning his head back down. He didn't want them to look at him, he wanted to be left alone, the closest he would get to that was looking away from them. But they didn't want to just look at him, of course, they wanted to use him, and use him they did. This time he couldn't help the tears streaming down his cheeks or his muffled cries that were overpowered by the aggressive grunts of the man above him. He kept waiting for it to be over, he was clutching at the man's pants sleeves desperately, trying to stop himself from ticcing and taking out a chunk of the foreigner in his mouth.

When they finally stopped and pulled off of him to straighten out their fancy clothes, Elias curled into a little ball on the carpet, arms wrapped around himself to try and stop the small sniffles from escalating into sobs. The two strangers left him there, the door slightly ajar. The nice white shirt August gave him was stained now, his knees were reddened and raw, his jaw hurt. But none of that mattered, did it? He had fulfilled his purpose, twice even, that was what should matter. Elias had obeyed, he'd let himself be used, because that's what he was told he was made for. He hoped he'd been good, that August wouldn't hurt him anymore than he already was. But even as he told himself that, he felt absolutely tainted and ruined and wrong, this was what it felt like to be less than the dirt beneath people's shoes, Elias felt bad, to say the least.

And then, as the door opened and shiny toed black shoes and dress-pants started approaching, he couldn't help but feel like he was only going to keep getting worse.

[blissfullyshipping]

Braids and Misunderstandings (Thorin x Reader)

Requested by @elia-the-bibliophile​: Hi can I request a Thorin x fem human! reader where they’re married with 3 little dwarfling & they’re having a family time in their quarter in Erebor when their children ask them about how they meet each other, maybe it started with a misinterpretation between the 2 of you when you asked for Thorin’s help to braid your long hair but Thorin sees it as an invitation to court you (as per dwarvish custom) thank you!

Fandom: The Hobbit

Warnings: none just a load of toe curling fluff

A/N: I'm backkk. Felt like doing some writing and this request was too cute to not write, although it was a bit hard because I don’t like children and can’t write endings. Anyway hope you like!

Your bedroom is in chaos. Your chambers mess was a result of getting your three children ready for Kili and Tauriel's wedding. The stress of each child changing their outfit three times or kicking their shoes off every five seconds, resulted in clothes lining every surface and shoes scattered haphazardly on the ground. And yet, coming home from the wedding and getting them to bed proves to be an even bigger task for Thorin and you.

"Ouch amad that hurts!" Your youngest, Melva, squeals on your lap as you try to brush her unruly locks.

"I'm sorry ghivashel," you hush her, gently bobbing your knee, "I'm nearly done I promise."

"Tyrig stop tugging your buttons, your mother just sewed them back on!" You look up at Thorin scolding your son, while he struggles to get Elaina into her nightgown.

"There, all done." You announce proudly as you clasp the last bead.

"No! I don't want braids!" Melva cries pulling out the braids you had just finished.

Sighing in exhaustion you pull her hands away from her head. "Good girls have neat braids nathith."

"How come Elaina doesn't have to!"

"Elaina's not ready for bed yet," Your eyes go to her sister, warning her to listen to her father. "She still needs to put her nightgown on and wash her face. Then adad will do her hair."

"Adad can braid hair?" Melva looks up at you, her eyebrows raised.

"Melva!" Thorin exclaims, hands clutching his heart feigning offence making his daughter giggle in your lap. "I taught your amad how to braid!" This gets the attention of all three children and both you and Thorin make use of their distracted state and get them ready for bed as you talk.

"Is that true?" Tyrig asks getting under the sheets.

"Yep," You nod. "Your father and I met because of braiding too."

"What are you telling them now amrâlimê?" Thorin asks coming out of the bathroom with a clean Elaina in his arms.

"Just about how we met."

"Ahh you mean when you proposed to me the first time we spoke."

"What?!" All three children scream in unison, making the two of you laugh.

"That's not true!" Slapping Thorin's chest. "It was just a small misunderstanding." You say as you put the last child in bed.

"What really happened amad?" Elaina asks. You look at the three sleepy dwarflings and back at Thorin who smiles softly, perching next to you on the bed. "If I tell you will you promise to go to sleep straight after."

The three of them nod enthusiastically ready to hear a new story, satisfied with their answer you lean against your husband and begin to retell it.

--

After the destruction of Erebor and your home in Laketown, you had fled with your best friend, Dis Durin, and the rest of her kin. Feeling more at home amongst the dwarves than your own kind.

Your friendship with Dis had grown since your days in Erebor, you were there for the dwarf-woman when her brother died and father left. You were there when the dwarves barely made it to the Iron Hills alive, and you were there when Dis had found her One.

You were ecstatic when she announced her engagement, and asked you to help with wedding preparations. You fulfilled the role of maid of honour proudly, and took it upon yourself to make sure every detail was executed to perfection.

Slipping into the lavender dress you sewed yourself, after finding nothing in the dwarven markets that would fit you for the ceremony, you move onto braiding your hair into the updo Dis had drawn out for you and the bridesmaids.

Brushing your long locks you stare at the drawing in bewilderment, what is it with dwarves and braids? 

Hesitantly, you start off braiding sections of your hair, weaving them together to recreate Dis' design. Thinking you had done well you look in the mirror eyes flicking back to the drawing and sigh at the mess on your head. Untying the braids and restarting again.

But after several tries and aching arms you give up, huffing on your stool in frustration. Not having much time before the wedding begins, you grab the drawing and leave the room to seek help.

You wander frantically around trying to look for anyone who can help, when you finally spot Dis' brother leaving his own room.

You'd never really talked to Thorin before, aside from the polite greetings in corridors or grieving condolences at funerals. You made sure to keep out of the King's way, because even if Dis had profusely told you Thorin didn't mind your company, you still weren't sure if he was okay with a woman joining his kin. Right now, however, you could use all the help you could get.

"Thorin!" You hiss after him, taking in his appearance. He was dressed in his finery making you stop short as you admire him. His hair and beard neatly braided, fur coat sitting proudly on broad shoulders and you can't help but admire the muscle on the dwarf.

When he calls your name you quickly come to your senses and smile bashfully up at him. "I was hoping you would braid my hair for me?" You ask nervously, tugging on a loose lock oblivious to Thorin's crestfallen face.

"I-uh-m-me?" He stutters taken aback by your question.

Having only ever admired you from afar Thorin would never have thought his crush was requited. This was the longest conversation he's had with you, and though he's dreamt of this countless of times he never thought you would propose to him so casually.

"Yes!" You blurt out. "Please Thorin, I can't think of anyone else to do it." You grab his hand in desperation, and Thorin has never felt so conflicted.

"Your hair is always so neatly braided, and Dis told me to recreate this," You wave the drawing in his face "and you know how she is, I just want it to look right."

Thorin gingerly takes the note from your hand, his callous fingers brush against yours, inciting goosebumps to travel up your arm. His eyes flick between the drawing and you, scratching the back of his neck and chuckling in embarrassment, before nodding his head at your wide eyed expression.

"Of course, Y/N." He says softly, leading you into his room.

You try to calm your nerves when you follow the king into his personal chambers, who quickly moves the pile of clothes on his bed, shoving them into a wardrobe.

"Uh- sorry about that. I hadn't really planned on what to wear." He excuses himself sheepishly, face burning when you giggle at his antics.

He moves you to the dressing table, sitting you on the stool and begins lightly raking his fingers through your hair. Your back goes rigid when his fingers tickle the back of your neck.

Thorin can't breathe. Just looking at you through the mirror, hair flowing over your bare shoulders makes his breath hitch. He had only ever seen you with your hair up. And yet here he is, fingers brushing through your long locks, mind cloudy as your lavender smell invades his senses. There is a reason why braiding is an intimate act.

He shakes his head of any impure thoughts and grabs the brush ready to start on the detailed design. Sectioning and braiding he falls into a rhythmic pattern and begins to ease up. Stopping short when he sees you shiver, glancing over to the open window.

"Apologies for the cold y/n, the furs were making me hot." he says breaking the silence, shrugging off his coat and placing it on your shoulders.

You smile and thank him snuggling into the thick fabric that smells of him. You begin to forget it's the king who's standing behind you, and start to relax into his touch, making light conversation and playing with the bits and bobs lying on his dressing table. Or staring at Thorin as he focuses on braiding, hiding your smile when he sticks his tongue out in concentration.

You inspect a box full of beads, recognising them as the ones Thorin wears in his hair. Up close like this, you can tell each intricately carved bead is different. The newer, shinier ones are probably gifts whilst the worn down and smoother beads must be passed down from generation to generation. You wonder if Thorin would allow you to wear one to the wedding and rifle through them.

A particular bead captures your attention, the carving seems slightly rougher than the others but you can see the effort and love put into it. You pluck the bead from the box marvelling at the craftsmanship. Did Thorin make this?

"Ok Y/N I'm nearly done." Thorin says softly, your eyes snap to the mirror and you stare in awe at what he's managed to achieve, finally understanding what Dis' drawing meant.

"Thorin it's beautiful!" You gasp eyes meeting his through the mirror, the beaming smile lighting up your face making Thorin's heart beat a little faster.

"You look beautiful Y/N." He nods in agreement.

You blush heavily and quickly look down so as not to embarrass yourself in front of him. Your attention going back to the bead clasped in your hand.

"Thorin," you gaze back up at him to see him already looking at you, "Could I put this in my hair too? I've always wanted the dwarven beads and you have so many…" You trail off hoping you haven't stepped over the line. You know dwarves take their hair very seriously.

Thorin nods enthusiastically, repeating over and over in his head that you don't know the dwarvish customs, that this isn't you reciprocating his feelings. Even so, his face falls when you turn and place the chosen bead in his hand. What was wrong? Had you overstepped?

 He looks up to see your concerned eyes and clears his throat uncomfortably. "You want this specific one?" He asks tentatively. You nod not knowing if you had done something wrong.

"I didn't mean to offend you," you rush out. "I just thought it looked very pretty, the carving is beautiful did you do it yourself?"

Thorin nods silently and you can feel the awkwardness rising. Clearly it meant a lot to him.

"Actually it's fine. My hair looks beautiful as it is and it was rude of me to ask, I know beads and hair mean a lot to dwarves, I didn't mean to overstep." You apologise reaching for the bead, but Thorin moves his hand away from you, a strained laugh escapes his lips as he does so. You look up at him and see determination replacing his hesitant eyes.

"You truly have no idea on what braiding means, do you." He asks and you shake your head. "To braid someone's hair is to promise to court them."

Oh, that actually makes a lot of sen- OHH! Oh Mahal no! Had you really been this stupid?! Realisation hits you and you apologise profusely to Thorin, the horror evident on your face makes him laugh. "Don't worry Y/N I know you didn't mean it that way."

You look up at Thorin and take in his amused expression. You try to hide your embarrassment and turn on your stool. Avoiding his eyes in the mirror, you allow him to finish your hair.

However Thorin hesitates, deep in thought. His entertained expression falls as he grips the bead tightly in his fist. Do you feel embarrassed about the idea of being courted by him?

"I made this bead when I became of age to start courting." He begins. "It's carved from stone found in the mines back in Erebor. It's rather ordinary, my father was surprised and tried to persuade me to use gems instead. But I insisted because it's a piece of me that I would want to gift my One. It's home."

Thorin's eyes are still on the bead when you look at him, his face marred into a conflicted expression. You turn and thread your hand through his, drawing his attention to you and giving him a rueful smile. You felt touched he was sharing this with you and it spurred confidence within you.

"It's so precious Thorin. Any girl would be honoured to wear it." Your voice hushed as all you can hear is your heart pounding.

I want you to wear it. The sentence seems so simple, so innocent, but stuck on the tip of his tongue. Thorin doesn't know your heart or feelings, he doesn't know how you'll react to him proposing to you or how Laketown men propose to women. How he wishes he could just say it, to see the joy in your eyes when he does. Opening his mouth, struggling to find the right words the sentence tumbles from his lips.

"I want y-"

"Thorin have you seen…" The two of you jump apart when Dis bursts into the room. "Y/N! I've been looking for you! Where have you been?!"

"I-I can't braid hair and that drawing you did was complicated so I got Thorin to do it." You stutter slightly, eyes flying to Thorin who keeps his gaze fixed on his sister, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. What was he going to say?

"I'll finish it off for you later. The florists just got here and he's brought the wrong shade of flowers I mean how difficult is it to…" The soon to be bride carries on ranting, taking you by the arm and leading you out of the room before you can utter a word in reply. You throw an apologetic look to the King before the door shuts behind you.

Thorin slumps onto the stool you had just been sitting on. Raking a hand through his hair he looks down at the courting bead still clutched in his fist. Sighing he places it back into the box and picks up the coat that slipped from your shoulders, your lavender smell still lingering in the fabric. Making himself presentable again he leaves his chambers and goes to help with the last minute wedding preparations, determined to be the first person you dance with.

--

"That's it?!" Tyrig demands hands flying in the air. "You didn't even propose?" The three dwarflings lie in bed unhappy with the ending.

"Yep aunty Dis ruined it all." Thorin says casually earning a whack from you. "What it's true if she wasn't there these three would probably be about two years older." He defends earning another whack.

"Two years?!" The eldest shouts, catching onto your husbands remark. "You waited two years!"

"Timing is everything ghivashel, I regret nothing." You say getting up. "No more questions now, you'll have to save them for breakfast you promised you'd go to sleep remember." This earns a chorus of groans from your children.

Kissing them goodnight you leave their room, Thorin taking your hand as you make your way to clear the rest of the mess in your chamber.

"Did you mean what you said." Thorin whispers into the dead of night, when you're both curled up in bed. "Do you really regret nothing?"

Snuggling into him, wrapping an arm round his neck and giving him a long chaste kiss you lay your head on his chest.

"I wouldn't change a thing. Menu tessu." You whisper back, happily falling asleep after a long and tiring day. You feel Thorin press one last kiss to your hair, before he too gives into the darkness.

And just as you both close your eyes in bliss, your youngest starts crying making you both groan.

Ghivashel = treasure of all treasures

amad/adad/nathith = mother/father/daughter

Amrâlimê = my love

Menu tessu = you mean everything to me

Lotr tagslist: @j25m18c24​ @spooookyscary​ @waddles03​ @bogbody​

[misterghostfrog]

So I was reading someones post about what if Jon went back in time to save everyone, and he managed it. He kept Martin away from Prentiss, he Kept Sasha alive, Tim never even know the unknowing existed and he never had Jons paranioa to ruin him. But They never knew, there was never those moments of bonding between the terror. Martin never had that moment when he realized Jon wasn’t just his shitty boss. And sure the assistants were close, but there was no room for Jon. And it gave me thoughts.

Under the cut bc I started to Ramble and it got Long, warning; its Big Sad Hours down there. No happy endings here.

Jon solves all these problems before they start, he fixes it without anyone ever knowing. The assistants are blissfully unaware, maybe he stops sending them on ‘real’ statement followup. The archives are a normal, safe job for all of them. Sometimes it gets too much, pretending he doesn’t know them. So he’ll record, mostly for himself. Sometimes for them, though he’ll never share. He sticks them all in Gertrude's old storage locker, where he knows they’ll never be found.

And then something goes wrong. He knows the unknowing can’t work, of course it can’t. But Nikola doesn’t, none of the avatars know. And Nikola still wants her skin. She still wants his skin, actually. And she’s not afraid to play dirty to get it, she’s hands-on like that. Because why stop at the archivist when he’s got so many lovely ignorant assistants?

So he fixes the problem before she can make good on her threats, she can’t be killed that easily. He knows. But she died during the unknowing, and there are some pretty simple steps to follow to replicate that result. He knows the easiest way to make sure it works is also a death sentence for him. But that’s a simple choice to make. Alright no, it’s not. He’s terrified of death, of dying. He doesn’t want to die, but he can lie to himself. He can delude and say maybe he’ll get another chance. And just in case, he makes sure the assistants know they can quit now.

Tim, Sasha, and Martin don’t know what to make of the news that their boss died mysteriously in an explosion. They know even less what to make of the notes he left them.

Clearly the ramblings of a very unstable man. They all knew Jon was a bit off but this... Well, they all know there’s something weird about the job. But the apocalypse? Really? 

Sasha believes some of it, she’s worked in artifact storage. She’s seen what this stuff can do. But, well. Jon’s never come off as the most stable person, and with no proper proof to back up any of this there’s no reason for them to follow suit. After all she’s known lots of people to quit the institute, she even knows for a fact that Eric Delano did it when she was rooting through employee records for perfectly rational legal reasons.

Then Martin gets called up to Elias’s office, and gets the news he’s the new head archivist.

He tries to turn it down, but he’s offered a pay-raise and a promise that he can step down anytime if he doesn’t feel suited to the position. Elias just sees so much potential in him.

Martin tries to feel flattered and not thoroughly terrified by the way Elias says potential. He takes the promotion, after all, he can always step down if it’s too much.

He offers as much when he finds out Sasha probably should have been given the position, but she turns him down. It’s not his fault their boss is a sexist old bastard, and at this rate he’d probably just turn around and give it to Tim.

Things are normal for a few months. Until slowly a strange noise starts to be heard around the archives, a weird sort-of squishing sound with no source. Along with a metallic scent of meat. 

An infestation, of course. They’re getting the problem worked on, or so Elias says. But aside from the occasional exterminator coming in to ‘take a look’ nothing ever seems to change. Weird statements start showing up on Martins desk, surrounding meat and twisted up things, eaten alive and wrong. Suddenly he understands how Jon went off his rocker so easily.

It’s hard to believe all this supernatural stuff as it’s suddenly getting crammed down his throat, after so long of the archives being normal in almost every sense of the word it’s like missing a step on the staircase. The more awful statements he finds- that Tim and Sasha confirm -the more he realizes how much his boss was hiding from them.

He wants to quit, he thinks about it, he tries to think about it. But he just, can’t.

It’s another or two month before it happens. Meat and bone and gristle erupt from the floor, taking on horrible mangled shapes of almost-humans reaching out with hands full of teeth and hungry.

They all survive, though Tim gets eaten up a bit more than the rest of them. And they’ll all have nightmares for the rest of their lives. They’re alive.

And they find Gertrude’s body, though none of them know how to feel about it. They’ve realized by now there’s something to Jon’s nonsensical ramblings. And they’re long past regretting not quitting before this all happened.

There’s a section of document storage that got uncovered during the cleaning,an old cot that was shoved behind some of the shelves, and a box that had a few sets of clothes, an old teacup, and a key. The cleaners say they burned the clothes, but the cup and the Key are given to Martin for him to keep to return to whoever left their things in the archive.

Neither of those items belong to Tim or Sasha, so they all assume they belonged to Jon.

They start following Jons footsteps, they find out he was a suspect in an arson case surrounding Carlos Vittery’s old apartment. Nobody was there except one unidentified body. He was arrested for trespassing on a dock, though no charges were filed. There was an incident that ended in the near arrest of one Jude Perry, though no charges were filed and she soon fell off the grid. And then he exploded using C4 he had no way of getting, Nothing concrete, no proper genuine evidence except a series of weird encounters their dead boss had.

Martin Decides to try and hunt down Jude Perry, it takes some time. He has a very nice cup of tea with one Micheal Crew. Who points him in a general direction and is just a bit weird about tall buildings.

Martin finds Jude, and asks her about Jon. She laughs at him, of course. But she tells him anyway. Jon was trying to have her arrested- no, not arrested. Killed. Officer Tonner would have seen to that, he knew one of the Hunt could do her in, well. At least of Officer Tonner’s sort anyway. Jude resisted, naturally. He escaped her clutches only barely, by running. Like a coward. And she escaped the policewoman by playing innocent. She’s still on her tail though, damn dog. It’ll be a long time before she’d rid of her, but she knows better than to run. Oh, he doesn’t know what any of that means, does he? Oh he really doesn’t, how sweet. Just a little baby archivist- she was going to kill him after this. But watching him stumble into his own ruin will be so much more fun.

She sends him on his way with a burn.

Martin is terrified, he genuinely tries to quit. Almost manages it before his computer shuts off. The others try too, and then they all have a lovely freak-out together.

They decide to try and talk to Detective Tonner, which proves easy. She’s the partner of the one who’s been interviewing them. She comes to the institute, and they ask her about Jon. She tells them they believed he was responsible for killing Gertrude, seeing as he was next in line. Martin accidentally Compels her into a statement, and then into admitting she's mostly just saying he killed her because dead men don’t put up fights.

She threatens him right then and there, though Basira comes in and intervenes before anything happens. He files a dispute with the station, and avoids the police after that.

Basira brings him some of the tapes, she says it’s an apology. He’s pretty sure she’s just trying to get him to drop the dispute in the weirdest way possible. He does learn some about Gertrude though, and through her what he’s dealing with. And something about an ‘unknowing’

A man named peter Lukas visits the institute, one of the doners. Elias says he wants to see how the archive runs, Lukas says a few choice words about it. And Martin tells him in the most polite of terms to shove off. Lukas threatens him, and very briefly makes him forget everyone he’s ever loved. And then tells him he got off lucky, and that Elias should have picked a better archivist. You can hardly trust someone so childish to run something as important as this now can you.

Daisy visits him in his home, and threatens him in much more physical terms now. She tells him if he tries to do what he did to her again he’ll get more than a scar.

After that it’s a bit unclear how he gets marked by the next two (Curruption, Stranger.) but he does.

There’s a delivery, a few weeks after the stranger mark. It’s not supernatural in any sense, just a young woman dropping off a small box in the archivists office. She says her name is Georgie, and no, she doesn’t know what’s in the box. She just had an old friend tell her to deliver it if he didn’t check in after a bit. Then she found out he died on the news, and then she hadn’t wanted to deliver them- clearly whatever was in the box was going to get someone killed. And she wasn’t scared of it, she wasn’t one for fear, but the thought of putting anyone in danger made her skin crawl. But she didn’t want it in her house, and she refused to be haunted be this box forever. And there was no reason to defy the poor guys apparent final wishes- wait, why was she saying all this again?

In the box was tapes, a dozen or so of them. All addressed to ‘the next head archivist’

It’s Jon’s voice, on the tapes. Talking to who he apparently assumes to be an entire stranger, explaining the fears. And how Smirkes 14 wasn’t wrong, but wasn’t right either. It tells the next archivist to avoid eyes, paintings, doodles, abstract representations, and to keep playing dumb. There’s a lot out there, and the more you know the worse it gets. There’s no fighting, don’t struggle the nets already around you. There’s a way out, but you’re not going to like it.

It gives an odd image of Jon, the man who awkwardly tried to make small-talk int he break room, only to shuffle away after it fell flat. Carrying this world-ending secret on his shoulders. Stiff, awkward Jon. Grim, sad Jon. not so far apart but still so far outside of what Martin had known about him.

What had Martin known about him?

Tim decides to quit, Sasha stays. Elias hires Melanie. Who turns out to be another connection to Jon.

Melanie says he was kind of a prick, he belived her about her Sarah incident, but refused to give her library access. Probably because he was sexist, or maybe just a dickhead. She’d been trying to learn more about her encounter for ages. And this was finally her chance. They try to explain the way out but she won’t listen.

Martin starts following Gertrudes tapes, things about the unknowing have been popping up on his desk lately, and it sounds like Jon was right about an apocalypse. He goes to america, gets a bit kidnapped, and meets Gerry. He offers to help, and then asks about the unknowing. Gerry points him towards the storage locker. And when he gets back He and Sasha and Melanie check it out.

It’s mostly empty, apparently somewhat recently cleared out. Though in the corner there’s a large box of Tapes. There has to be dozens of them, and when they pres play it’s Jon. Talking to them. Except it’s not them, it’s another version of them, and something this version.

And there’s another Jon to add to the mystery of a man he was. The jon on these tapes isn’t stiffly awkward or forcedly professional. He’s open, sad. He cries, he laughs at memories they don’t have. He apologizes, a lot. Too much really. He talks about time travel, about forgetting faces and losing friends.

“Sometimes I-I think- I can’t help but be a bit... upset. At how unfair it all is. You’re all happy and laughing and together and i’m- 

i’m alone. 

I suppose it must be some sort of- cosmic Karma, I doomed the world so in this new one bright an new I pay my penance in isolation.

Or maybe it’s the other way around. I doom the world- suffer its horrors, and get a little bit of time to taste what humanity would be like.

Or maybe i’m just not that likable without an apocalypse.

Probably says a lot about me either way.

Is it bad that I- I sometimes consider letting things play their course? W-without any of you dying of course I just... I suppose it is bad, to want to end the world because you’re lonely. Just because i’m a bit sad doesn’t mean the planet should suffer, no... maybe i’ll try and reconnect with Georgie, it’s been... well. No. Perhaps best not.”

Sasha says that if she knew she would have at least brought him out for drinks or something. 

But they did sort-of know didn’t they? Not about the apocalypse, but about the loneliness. After all, nobody chats so awkwardly in the break room because they have a thriving social life.

“I’m going to kill Nikola tonight- i’m not going to die. I’m not. I didn’t die last time, a-and there’s no reason for that to change. T-there isn’t. I’m going to try and be a safe distance from the blast this time, too. But... Well, it’s not like I have anyone to miss me if I do go.

I suppose... Martin, if you’re listening to this- I... I miss you. You always did say I should be more open with my feelings, and it’s weird. To miss someone who’s right there. T-to look at a face and see a friend and a stranger. To love someone you’ve known for years who doesn’t even really know who you are.

It’s all very stranger, ironic really. Considering what i’m about to do.

I love you, and I miss you. I know you’re not listening, even if I did die you’ve probably long since quit. I hope you’re happy, whatever you’re doing. Happy and safe. All of you. 

And maybe you are listening, maybe... maybe we do become friends, maybe you actually choose to talk to me someday. Maybe I tell you about all of this and... And you don’t think i’m mad. Maybe you let me take you out to dinner and we’d be together again. We’d never be like before- not that that’s a bad thing what with the eldritch horrors. There’d be bits missing, memories we don’t share- but, it would still be you... It’s always been you, I think. And maybe I've decided to give this to you as some sort of silly romantic gesture.

A-and in that case. I love you, Martin Blackwood. More than you’ll ever know.

[HE SIGHS]

When I come back, i’m recording over this.”

[CLICK]

But he didn’t come back. He died that night. He died loving Martin, who never even really knew him beyond passing awkward conversation. Martin doesn’t know how to feel about it, besides guilty that is.

The tapes point them towards Georgie Barker, the woman who delivered the other set to the archives.

Georgie doesn’t really want anything to do with them, she knows whatever they’re stewing in got Jon killed. But she tells them about her encounter with The End, though she’s tetchy afterwards. Martins finally starting to understand this whole compelling business and is feeling pretty sorry about it. He redirects, he starts to ask about Jon. Who he was, really. What she knew he was like.

They talk, Martins curiosity is part Eye and part knowing that someone loved him, really, really loved him. And feeling like he missed out, like he skipped a train he hadn’t known was there. And wanting to know what kind of person would- could love him the way Jon did. And why that kind of person could end the world.

They talk, Georgie explains why they broke up (clashing ideals, he didn’t believe in the supernatural and her trauma was so inherently tied to it. He was a sleep-clinger and she kicked when she dreamed) And why it took so long for them to break up (Jon was funny once you learned to get his jokes, the Admiral loved him, he had a weird way of caring that was really sweet) they talk about things, Georgie lets him hang out with her as long as he promises to keep the supernatural out of their conversations. And how is Melanie doing by the way?

Sasha has a hard time splitting her time in the archive and helping Tim. He can manage himself of course but it’s hard knowing he’s sitting in her flat alone, he’s getting back into publishing though. Sleeping easier now he knows that not only is he free of the eye, but Jon very much killed the thing that killed Danny. He only wishes he could have been the one to pull the trigger. Sasha is getting more involved though, the eye has it’s own grip on her.

They finally confront Elias. They know it won’t do any good, Jons tapes explained what he was, who he was. But they’re frustrated. Low on options. Jon never really explained what the apocalypse was- if Martins learned anything from the other tapes it’s probably because he forgot, thought he did somewhere and didn’t.

Elias isn’t entirely surprised that they’ve figured it out, he knew something was going on. Though he wasn’t quite sure what. He claims he knows what oncoming apocalypse Jon was talking about, and that he was likely underestimating the amount.

He sends them to Ny-Ålesund. And Martin views the black sun. Gets briefly taken hostage by Manuela. And gets “saved” by a man who pops out of a door to stab her.

He says his name is Micheal, and he’s not there to help. He does his whole distortion bit, confuses them. Stabs Martin when he tries to take his statement. Says he was going to kill him, but what happens next might be much better than death. And leaves after stating that he’s very excited to watch how the rest of this plays out.

They go back to the institute, and Elias says he must have been wrong. Oopsie. Anyway the web is planning a ritual you should go check out the spooky house from all these statements.

They meet Annabelle in person, Martin gets marked by the web.

This continues on for the end the slaughter and the buried. They finally confront Elias again about these wild goose chases, he claims innocence but he’s done it enough times they don’t believe him. They stop trusting Elias. Not that they ever really did, but they stop listening to him.

Melanie isn’t as angry as she was. Though she is still angry. She didn’t go to india so no ghost bullet, but she’s still trapped. Though she knows how to quit, it’s been a scary idea. But the longer she stays the more she realizes how low she is on options. So she quits.

Martin is angry, he’s exhausted, he’s confused. Nothing makes sense. And another one of Elias’s goddamn doners is visiting. A weird old man who, when he shakes his hand, makes him feel like he just dropped off a rollercoaster at a million miles into empty nothingness. He laughs when Martins regained himself, and says that that tricks better than a buzzer every time.

He visits Georgie again, he’s thinking about quitting. But he can’t figure out what the apocalypse he’s supposed to stop is, because according to Jon it’s pretty bad. And he’s the one who can stop, or maybe start, it. But he doesn’t know what it is.

He talks to Georgie about Jon some more, it’s funny, to grieve a man you already knew. Except four years too late. There’s a sort-of helpless frustration to it, every time he talks about Jon he wishes he could be learning this first-hand. Not from someone who hadn’t spoken to him in years before this.

He also finds himself glued to the tapes, he can relate, in a way. To Jons loneliness. To have a person so, so close but so far away. He wishes he could meet the Jon on the tapes now. Then neither of them would have to be lonely. But Jon is dead. And Martin... Martin might love Jon. Jon, who died years ago. A dead man who apparently loved him enough to consider ending the world for the chance to have a real conversation with him.

He goes back to work, frustrated and so, so lost. A million questions that genuinely can’t be answered. There’s a fresh statement on his desk. It’s a statement of Jonah Magnus, regarding stopping the apocalypse.

Certainly a goddamn roundabout way of giving Martin information, but he’ll take it.

He reads the statement.

The world ends.

Sasha, Tim, Melanie, and Georgie all get their own domains. And wander free in the hills of suffering. Martin is alone, well and truly alone. He ended the world, because he was too stupid and sad to read a few extra paragraphs before starting the tape.

But Jon went back, didn’t he? He went back in time and stopped this once. Maybe Martin can too. Maybe he can stop the flesh from attacking, maybe he can stop Melanie from joining the institute. Maybe he can meet the real Jon.

He goes back, he does it. Nobody remembers but him. 

Nobody remembers but him. 

And things keep happening he can’t have predicted.

Worms, Sasha is gone, Gertrude. It’s all wrong. And Jon isn’t the Jon he knew, he doesn’t know Martin, he doesn’t even like Martin. Nobody is the person he knew before.

He is alone. And things keep happening he can’t have predicted, worms tables and paranoia. He starts recording. Trying to follow in Jon’s footsteps and leave information behind, easier to access this time of course. In his flat, and he’ll have the key sent to the archives if something goes wrong. He’ll record until Jon trusts him enough to believe him, Maybe he’ll even stop him before it’s too late and he’ll never need to find out what happened at all. Maybe he can't get close as he was to everyone, but he can keep them safe.

He doesn’t get to finish his recordings, he wasn’t careful enough. Jonah catches wind and half the tapes are destroyed when he dies in a mysterious housefire. But what’s left does get delivered to the archives.

And the cycle continues.

[rose-lord-of-simps]

Okay if you like Klaus Goldstein I suggest just scrolling past this but if you want to listen to a rant of why I don’t like him and why I don’t think he should be as popular as he is, you can read under the cut. Keep in mind, I understand and see why he is so popular, that doesn’t mean I think he should be.

Also Klaus’ route spoilers ahead.

@eye-cri I made it.

Klaus Goldstein is a manipulative ass hole.

He is the first route I’ve played, I’m almost done with it, and I can see why people love him but that makes me scared for the other characters. If KLAUS is your favorite, then how bad is everybody else?

I’ve been told the reason he is so popular is because he is chivalrous and one of the few people who doesn’t try to just say no to being our buddy.

But bro, I wouldn’t want to be the MC’s buddy either. I’d be polite about it unlike these guys, but look at what a buddy is. When your grades improve, theirs don’t. But when your grades lower, so do their’s. Having a buddy isn’t a benefit, there is more to risk losing than there is to gain and theoretically if they do bad enough, then your entire academic grade will suffer for something out of your control. It’s like when a teacher marks something correct, as wrong but refuses to make it correct even when you prove you’re right. So really it’s not about not wanting MC to be their buddy, they don’t want anybody to be their buddy! And a new student, who no one knows how they got in, just randomly tramples up to the school all optimistic and wanting to learn only to criticize herself about her own magical abilities instead of saying “I know I’m not the best but that’s why I’m here, to learn.” A human who is from some random little town who knows where, is suddenly your buddy. Yeah you’re gonna probably freak out a bit if your grades are important to you! This is also someone who you don’t know well and have to get to know, that’s the whole point of character development.

For Klaus, he is the prefect, he is supposed to set an example, it makes more sense for his character to be like “alright I have a buddy, time to tutor the fuck out of her.” He was also offered something he really wanted in exchange for making sure the MC got into the academy. So yeah he accepted us as a buddy- but he was bribed to do so. He did not want to, he was prepared to let us leave the school until the head master said “if you help her get into the school I’ll make you a teacher after you graduate.” The others can’t be bribed so easily because the head master has nothing to bribe them with. So the argument of “but he was one of the few who welcomed us as a buddy” is false. He tutored and encouraged us, because he was bribed to do so and this later turns into affection. Klaus also genuinely wants to be a teacher, he likes to see people succeed and grow, not just us. He puts so much effort into our training because it’s what he wants to do after he graduates, not because we are special to him originally.

Admittedly, he is a good teacher. He sees a student’s weak points and designs a training schedule that will help them improve these weak points, and then some. However, he is known to be rude in his “encouragement” and instead of giving us positive feedback or saying “this is what you are doing wrong and here is how we are going to fix it” he is just saying “you’re bad and unfocused now do this exercise and practice when you should be sleeping.” With this requires a student who is determined to get better no matter what. And the MC is okay with that, she wants to learn magic, however… she is guilt tripped the entire time. She guilt trips herself, always apologizing always feeling bad with no confidence even when she does something right.

Heck, I’m one of the later chapters she is worried sick about him because he is basically in the school’s prison and then SHE has to apologize for making HIM worry while she was trying to clear HIS name when HE WASN’T EVEN IN TROUBLE IN THE FIRST PLACE! “You made me terribly worried never do that again” “I’m sorry” I THOUGHT YOU COULD HAVE BEEN EXPELLED, YES I UNDERSTAND WHY YOU COULDN’T TELL ME-

But then this guy goes on to say that we are lovers and- when the fuck did he ever ask out the MC? Because apparently it was when he said “will you stay with me forever” during a scene where we were also discussing the MC’s training. Dude. That entire “confession” could very easily be interpreted as him worried as a friend or trying to confess BUT NOT ASKING US TO BE HIS GIRLFRIEND! He didn’t even have the guts to say he cared about us until we listened to a message he left for us where it cut out during that part. Then after that he refers to us as “his girl” like buddy you never asked if I was okay with this or if this is what I wanted. He is never clear with you on what he wants. And he says that as prefect he has to hold himself back, but we were in the privacy of his office during the “confession” scene and he could of just told us “MC I have feelings for you in a romantic sense and I want you to stay by my side through thick and thin, will you do that?” THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN ASKING US OUT.

Not telling us you have feelings for us, makes it confusing.

Throughout the game Klaus repeatedly tells us to shut up or lets us apologize for things we shouldn’t apologize for, or makes us see a situation from his perspective- without him seeing it from our’s. I expressed in a previous post that something he said about us “not being much of a woman” then glancing to our chest upset me. Because it’s bullshit. He then says that it doesn’t even matter to him and if it doesn’t, why bring it up in the first place? To make us feel even worse about ourselves? I’m almost done with Klaus’ route and the MC’s confidence has not improved. I’m not talking about her confidence in her magic, I mean her confidence that she can be a great wizard one day, the confidence in herself that will allow her to grow. The MC is treated as if she is stupid by Klaus and that continues the entire time. He views her as a stupid bunny head in the beginning of the route then proceeds to see her as someone who could be amazing at magic and just needs to practice but he never says this. We find out when we find the training schedule he made for us near the beginning of the story. “Actions speak louder than words” yes louder but not clearer. His actions of supporting us from the beginning is loud but he never says what he feels. He never tells us he cares and expects us to know through inference. Emotions are complicated and messy, being left to assume and infer is dangerous and results in misunderstanding.

After we confront him about who exactly miss Elaine is, he blames MC for the entire misunderstanding- when he was the reason for the misunderstand of feelings. He tries to pin that one on us as well as if we could just go up to him and ask when he could of just told us “I have romantic feelings for you and would like to be romantically involved with you but it has to wait a while because this is my situation.”

Klaus tries to seem like he can do nothing wrong but he still needs to grow and mature more so he can see that just actions isn’t enough to express to people properly how you feel. Elias is his brother who has grown up with him, he understands how Klaus talks, nobody else does.

I don’t like Klaus because he is manipulative, practically verbally assaults us, says our body doesn’t matter when it obviously does then has the audacity to say that he has been holding himself back because he is prefect when normally he’d like much more than a kiss. All while assuming the MC is his girlfriend.

In one of the later scenes we see him saying “he isn’t my friend and never has been!” In reference to Randy. These two were arguing and talking as if they were close but Klaus insisted they were not when Randy tried to say otherwise. We see Randy leave the scene while the MC thinks “Randy… you’re trying to run away from his insults aren’t you?” Klaus tried to call out to stop him but Randy leaves and when MC asks if he is going to stop Randy, Klaus just says it’s fine and brushes it off.

He is portrayed as mr.perfect prefect, when he very much isn’t. No body is perfect, but the problem lies when he doesn’t admit he isn’t perfect. Klaus continues to pretend as if he is safe to do all of this just because it made the most logical sense, as if emotions weren’t hurt. He acts as if he is perfectly justified and a master of emotions as well. He doesn’t have any character development.

In Klaus’ route there is no character development for either of them.

The MC continues to be kind of shy and quiet and in her one moment of bravery she is made to feel guilty for it instead of being praised and the writing just allows her to understand.

Klaus developed feelings for the MC but continues to treat her like shit.

I don’t like Klaus and I don’t think he should as popular as he is, because he is the stereotype that is made out to middle school girls as “he is cold hearted and treats you like crap but he secretly loves you and just doesn’t want to say it.” That is not healthy and not okay. If you want to be someone’s partner you have to learn how to communicate your feelings to them and admittedly, we only have two weeks there before we may or may not leave, and that’s not a lot of time for character development to happen however, it doesn’t look like it ever will. Not until the MC stands up and says “this is not okay and here is why” to the point Klaus has no logical defense for his behavior. But how likely is this to happen when the MC just repeatedly understands his side of the story, without ever saying their own.

Klaus and MC are not good for each other and the relationship is toxic as fuck.

If I were in that universe, I’d like to be Klaus’ friend but I’d never want to date him because of all of this and then some.

Klaus has good intentions and dreams, but his actions speak loud and confusing and he refuses to explain himself, expecting everyone to just get it. And nobody is telling him that nobody is going to be like Elias but Elias. If they don’t get it then they must be stupid. Klaus doesn’t need other people’s approval which is great but that doesn’t mean he is justified in being an ass to everyone.

Klaus should not be a fan favorite. I’m terrified for how the other characters act if this is how Klaus is and HE is praised as being one of the nicest.

I don’t want a rebuddle or argument in the comments and if you try, I don’t care. I gave you a warning at the beginning to just scroll past if you like Klaus so you chose to read this. If he is your favorite and you’re offended, sorry not sorry. This is my opinion and interpretation of the prefect and I don’t like and think he is over rated. Make a post about why he is great but don’t tag me in because I will ignore it. We have different opinions and that’s okay, get over it.

[nonbinaryeye]

Rainy Evening

Written for @lonelyeyesweek

Day 4 - Humanity

When Peter comes home he finds his husband engaging in highly suspicious activity. Does he see well or is Elias really... resting?

Read on AO3

…

Elias Bouchard likes routine. All of his days play out by the same script. It could be summed up shortly as spending the day running his institute and spending the evening by Watching. It could be described in great detail as every task, even as little as a cup of coffee is tied to a concrete time. 

There are not many things that could make him interrupt it. Usually only his Archivist keeps ruining his day. Even on occasions he happens to be married his routine stays almost unchanged (yet Peter complains he pays him way too much attention anyway.)

Yes, Elias likes familiarity with the same tasks repeated every day. So, even as he is leaving Institute precisely at five o’clock he is already planning his time of rest. First he will make himself a cup of coffee. Then he will dive into the bath. He will Look how Gertrude is doing on her trip to Pu Songling Research Centre. Hopefully he will also manage his skin care routine before his husband returns from whatever he is usually doing the whole day when he happens to stay in London. He smiles and opens his umbrella as the rain finally starts to drop from the cloudy sky which has been hovering over London the whole day.

And he indeed manages to prepare himself a double shot of espresso but then he makes the mistake of sitting on a couch. It should have been just a quick rest to drink his coffee but the cushion seems even more comfortable than usual. Also there is a warm blanket lying right next to him from two days ago when he threw Peter out of their bedroom because he was snoring too loudly.

So what if he postpones his plans just for a minute or two as the rain keeps knocking on his windows and instead of Watching he decides to let his eyes rest.

He is half asleep when a sound of keys in the lock brings him back to reality. It takes the intruder too many tries before he finally finds the one that fits and he manages to open the door. Elias does not bother to Look nor look nor open his eyes all together. If the inability to remember the key to his house is not a clear giveaway he is still able to recognize Peter by footsteps – much louder than one would expect from the servant of the Lonely.

“Good evening my dearest voyeur; what are you watching tonight?” Peter announces himself as always way too cheerfully. He is asking him that every time and most of them Elias does not bother to answer as he would usually be preoccupied with Watching his Archivist, some other employee or even spy on servants of other entities.

“I thought I have already told you I am not very fond of your attempts to use endearment.” Elias turns his gaze towards his husband – both his coat and hair soaking wet as he has been avoiding society enough to never learn about umbrellas. He seems to be caught off guard for a second as he did not expect to get any answer. Unfortunately he regains his ‘wits’ very quickly.

“Oh but why, I wonder, oh, siren of my sea, light in my lighthouse, seashell on my beach, barnacle on my ship…”

Elias rolls his eyes. This is not even worthy of his answer. He rather waves at his tiny cup. “Be useful and make me one more cup of coffee.”

“No one interesting to stalk tonight?” Peter inquires and it is the closest he can get to ask his husband whether he is alright since it is very strange to find him just relaxing.

“Maybe I am just already done with watching. Do you wish to hear about it, husband dear?”

“Depends whether you want the coffee now or in a few months after I return recovering from all the unwanted information…”

Elias for once is not in a mood for their bickering so he only shrugs and rolls more into the blanket. For lack of other things to do now Peter picks up his cup and heads to the kitchen where the coffeemaker is. The silence in the flat misses its usual tension and is surprisingly comfortable.

“Here you go.” Peter puts in front of Elias his fourth attempt (not that Peter would ever admit that) which almost looks drinkable.

“Took you long enough.” Elias takes a sip. It tastes acceptable.

“No words of thanks?

“I would offer a kiss but I do not want you anywhere close. You are cold.” Peter is incredibly easy to manipulate sometimes. There is no more certain way to make him do something than request the exact opposite of him. Elias does not even finish a sentence and his husband is already next to him pulling him into a hug and trying to get his share of the blanket.

Then again maybe his husband might know very well what he is doing and just taking the offered excuse. Elias chooses not to think about it too much. He rather puts some effort into his scheme in the form of a very light push against Peter. He naturally hugs him even tighter. He is a bit too cold for his taste actually…

“Is your body giving up and dying again? Or are you getting that old that you forgot your own schedule?”

“I am fine Peter. It’s just the weather probably. You don’t have to worry.”

“I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t.”

Peter scoffs and Elias smiles, closing his eyes. He is not completely done seeing yet. He cannot help himself but Look through one of the paintings on the wall curious what facial expression Peter has. He is not surprised to witness one of his soft looks. They are not as rare as his husband would claim. Then again Elias himself has not realized he is smiling till now. Cuddled together like this they cut quite a lovely image of domestic bliss…

He closes his Eyes as well. The rain is still dripping on the windows and Peter finally pulls him for his promised kiss. Yes this all feels so awfully and unnaturally human for them. But maybe a glimpse of humanity once in a while will not kill them…

[sasa-gay-yo]

Just Us (Chapter Ten: Request)

← Chapter Nine 

“We only have a bag of flour to give you this time.” He handed me a bag smaller than any ones they had before. I knew this might be the last time they would give me anything for my bread, so I took it without any word, but not without a nasty look. The cloth tied around my mouth hid my frown from him as I looked down at the small bag that even had a hole in it. This wasn’t going to make more than twenty loaves and I knew I was quickly running out of my own supply. I had tried to use my extra money to stock up as harvest came, but the price of wheat flour was so ridiculous, only the government could afford it. They bought most of the stock themselves and were hiding it. This small bag of flour was probably scooped out of a big box as they laughed in tricking me. 

I walked out the doors of the stock yard, pausing as the soldiers carried out another covered body on the stretcher. I wondered if I could recognize the person if they showed me their face. I had started giving the people my own names and using the interactions I had with them to guess their positions in Shiganshina. Some refugees were nice and would have a conversation with me while I ate my allotted rations on the edge of the stage they set up. It was a precaution so the refugees couldn’t run and push over the food stand like they had done a few months previous. It happened on my day off, so I wasn’t there to see it happen, but the next day, a stage had already been built with stairs that forced them into single file lines. If they pushed each other, the Garrison now had an above view to punish and hit those who forced themselves in line. 

I had conversations with some children and taught them a hand game from my youth to pass the time. Some of their parents would talk to me too, if they were young, and ask about the situation outside of the stockyard. Since violence had increased outside the barracks, they easily found a scapegoat and restricted the refugees to only the stockyard. It had no effect on the violence, but it seems the citizens of Trost found comfort in having someone to blame for the slow downfall of humanity. 

The trio never talked to me. Their grandfather always greeted me with a smile in line and I would give him the four loaves of bread for the children. The boy, Eren Jaeger, would get into fights with the guards more and more, but he would always be pushed to the ground or saved by the girl. It reminded me so much of myself. Was he getting beat up because it was something to do? Maybe it was the only thing that would make him feel something throughout the day. I desperately wanted to approach them and talk to them, but I never was able too. As soon as I would spot them, they’d disappear to some place in the stockyard and the smaller children would crowd around me to play the “clapping game” as they called it. 

Everyday I walked home alone, knife gripped in my pocket, I thought of what I would say to Eren Jaeger if he ever was thrown on my doorstep. He probably wouldn’t care for the pity of an older woman who had no relation to him. He also probably wouldn’t care about my time in the Underground and how I thought he acted like I did. I had made a game plan and everyday would go over it and tweak some parts. I’d have the trio help me make bread, talking to them about anything. Slowly, I’d tell them I was an orphan and maybe find some relation with them. The only adult figure around them seemed to be the grandfather and that made me wary because of the situation they came from. Their parents were no doubt killed by titans. 

I took the cloth off of my mouth as I got far enough away from the stockyard and took a deep breath of the slowly freezing air. It was going to get cold again, but the farmers had predicted a nicer winter than last year. We’d be lucky to get any snow this time, but it was better because they could chance growing more late winter crops. I decided that for the end of the year, I might as well open my shop and keep the tradition of year-end and winter pastries, hoping people would buy even without the fresh fruit. Another motivation is that some of my supplies were going to go bad and I didn’t want to lose more money than I had already. People like something sweet when they’re going through a bad time, so I’d hope they’d want my sweets. 

“Eva! Eva! Eva!” I looked up and saw Elias running towards me, paper in hand. He had a growth spurt over the summer and fall months, and now he was almost to my chin. His hair was also much too long, but he wouldn’t let me cut it because apparently the other boys at school also had hair like his. During summer and current late fall, I had taken them in pretty much everyday, commissioning them to make bread with me and giving them a few slices. Since Wall Maria had fallen, their parents had gone a bit crazy and so had a lot of other people in Trost. The Order of the Walls had grown into a huge following and not just a tiny cult anymore. They were going to build a church soon in the city square and the kid’s father was too busy with that to care for the proper needs of his children. I mended their clothes, helped them with homework, and even let them sleep on my couch when they got a little too full after dinner. Their parents didn’t even notice their absence when I brought them back home. 

“Yes, Elias?” He pushed a piece of paper into my hands and I saw the hundred percent he had gotten on the spelling test we had worked on together. I was awful at spelling, but I knew enough to help him. We would use flour, spread out on the table, to practice spelling words. This past list was increasingly difficult and I had to even look at it again a few times. 

“I got a perfect score on the spelling test!” his smile beamed up at me and made me stop thinking about the year-end and the refugees for a few seconds. 

“I’m proud of you Elias. You practiced hard for this.” He started following me back to the café and I knew he probably would want to come in and do his homework on Levi’s table. It was funny that Elias had such an unconscious affinity for him. His favorite toy was still the horse, he would sit at his table and do homework, and he started drinking tea because I refused him coffee. When Elias sat at the table doing his homework, it helped to fill the void that was left. 

Levi hadn’t returned in four months, almost five this coming Monday. The only thing I had was the button down and two letters he had sent before his work consumed him. I was waiting on a reply from a letter I had sent maybe three months ago. I knew that he was still alive and right outside of Trost, but only cadets would come in and out for refugee security. Everyday, I would hear them open the gates a six and I would open the window of my apartment, hoping to see him on his horse. I’ve probably watched the Scout cadets come into Trost so much, they must know my face by now. 

I missed him. 

Elias grabbed my hand unconsciously as we walked and broke me out of my thoughts for a second time. It seemed that there were three reasons I woke up everyday. The refugees, the kids, and the Scouts. It’s good that I had things to live for now. 

“Can I do my schoolwork in your café, Eva? There’s a lot of people over at Daddy’s house today and June’s at the bookstore.” June had recently got an apprenticeship at the book binder’s shop as he had no sons to pass it down to. I had given him the recommendation and once he saw the knowledge June had about books, he accepted her in. She was mostly selling books to people, proving her worth to the book binder, before she got to learn the secrets. Sometimes she would bring back broken books he had given her and think of the ways she would fix it. I was surprised at how close she actually was in her guesses. However, her new job had left Elias to fend for himself and grow up now without his sister at his side. He would play with friends, but once they had to go home, he was by himself. I was happy to indulge him in anything he wanted to do since I was alone too. We’d be lonely together. 

“Of course, Elias. We can go pick up June when she’s finished too.” That was good enough for him and he ran ahead, turning right out of the alleyway to get to the door of the café. I wonder who would fill my days once Elias was old enough to gain an apprenticeship. Jonas would be off somewhere delivering, the kids would be gone, and Levi would be on some expedition. Maybe I’ll get a cat.

“E-Eva?” I turned the corner and stopped walking to survey the scene. My stomach instantly dropped and I felt like I wanted to throw up. Why were these two here? Elias looked up and the tall, blonde man, instantly recognizing him. Their faces didn’t seem distressed and they were just leaning against the wall of the café, horses tied to the wooden posts. He can’t be gone, I would have felt it.

“Miss Evylnn Flynn?” He was the first to speak up and Hange kicked herself off the wall, wagging her finger at me. 

“I knew you were lying to me! Both of you!” They weren’t sad or upset. He had to be fine, but why were they here and not him? I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed to not see him behind Erwin’s shadow.

“Miss Flynn, we would like to have a word with you in private?” Erwin gestured to the door of the café and I swallowed hard. Was I in trouble? Why is the Commander here to talk to me in private? 

“Elias, you can go up to my apartment and do your school work on my desk. I’ll come up and get you when I’m done talking to the Commander.” Elias looked back at me, his eyes whimsical. He was pretty much meeting his hero and I was pushing him away from it. Erwin looked down at the boy and smiled. To pay him for listening, I’d ask Erwin to talk to Elias. If he had time to come and talk to me personally, he could spend five more minutes to entertain Elias.

“Can you do that for us, Elias? I promise it won’t take too long.” He nodded rapidly and Erwin reached down to fluff his hair. As soon as he was done, Elias ran up the stairs to my apartment, shutting the door with a slam. I’d have yelled at him if I wasn’t in this situation. My heart was speeding up and, if they could, my palms would be sweating. 

“Miss Flynn?” Erwin turned and gestured to the café door again. I nodded once and walked over, unlocking the door and leading them both in. What could they want? My mind was running through a hundred scenarios. Most of them ended with something happening to Levi. The other popular answer was that I was somehow in trouble. 

Once the door closed behind me, I got the nerve to turn around and smile at them. Hange’s presence made me slightly more comfortable, but this was the first time I had met Erwin. His energy was completely overwhelming and even if he looked nice, you could tell the amount of power he had. It was like the positive version of Levi. 

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” I whipped my hands on my jacket, looking to the floor. 

“Do you have any juice? I’m so thirsty, I barely had time for lunch!” I smiled a bit at Hange and walked over to the icebox I had. The only consumers of the juice were Elias and June, so it was nice to give it to someone else. 

“C-Commander?” I asked, silently cursing at my stutter. How was he more intimidating to me than Levi had ever been? He smiled at me and nodded before sitting down at the center table. I picked out another glass bottle and took one for myself. Hopefully they liked orange.

They both were just staring at me, waiting for me to come and join them. I handed them the juice and paused for a few seconds before sitting down. They both seemed so relaxed and I was exactly the opposite. My hands were fidgeting under the table and I dare not look at Erwin. Levi would probably yell at me for how shy and weak I seemed to them. Hange even downed her juice and let out a big ‘ah’ as she slammed it down on the table while we sat there. Only then, I realized the thin film of dust on the table. If Levi found out I sat his Commander on a dirty table, it would be over for me.

“Miss Flynn-”

“Eva. You can call me Eva. If we’re going to be seeing each other multiple times, it’s better to be one first name basis.” He smiled a bit, probably to calm me down, and continued. 

“Well, Eva… I don’t know how to begin this conversation, but I believe I can start by asking you what your relationship with Captain Levi is?” I blinked and looked at Hange. She was leaning forward, smiling at me, expectant at my answer. Had they found out? Was there a reason Levi might have told them about us? What if there’s only suspicion and I’m the one who outs us because I wasn’t careful? Was Erwin trying to intimidate me off of a hunch Hange had? 

“Why are you asking?” I wasn’t going to give them a straight answer. Erwin smiled a bit, a genuine one this time, and put one hand up.

“We have no ill will with the conversation. Both Hange and I are just curious about the situation our Captain may be in. The way you answer, however, might lead to some concerns.” Well, that makes me not want to answer your question, Commander. I took a sip of my juice before sitting up straight again. If we were to have this conversation, it would have to seem like I was being truthful. My hands were still shaking as I sat them on my lap.

“What has the Captain said?” Hange almost jumped out of her chair.

“Barely anything! I’m aching to know how Levi is when he’s with you! Is he a cuddler? Does he know nothing about relationships?” My eyes widened at her answer and it made me believe that he had to have said something to them. But, why? Did they back him into a corner?

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but the Captain and I are only friends. I haven’t seen him in over four months since I closed my café.” Hange leaned back in her chair and laughed crazily. I was starting to see what Levi meant. 

“I appreciate the loyalty you have to Levi’s and your private life, however, he has already informed us of you two’s relationship. We are only finding time now to come and visit, but we’ve known for a month.” I choked on my juice at Erwin’s words and wiped my mouth, swallowing hard. 

“He… did?” It was squeak and that got Hange laughing even more. So, how did they know if they were being truthful? Erwin nodded and handed me a handkerchief from his coat pocket. I thanked him and wiped the leftover juice off my hands.

“He believed it best that, as the Commander, that I know about your existence for various reasons. Hange also happened to be in the room because she is the only person who has officially met you and vogue for your personality. I had no idea about your visit to the Scout Headquarters until yesterday and that is a security risk.” I nodded and tried to calm down my racing heart. It was… interesting to finally have someone know about our relationship. Especially the Commander of the Scout’s. It was also concerning that the one who gossips the most in the Scouts also holds that information. Levi had told me how Hange revealed weekly who was having sex with who during boring meetings. 

“May I ask, what were his reasonings?” 

“As Commander of the Scout Regiment, I am the first line of defense for my soldiers. I pledge to protect them as best I can within our job description. This pledge of protection goes to their families and loved ones as well. I believe it to be Captain Levi’s intention that you are also under this hedge of protection concerning this period of political and societal unrest we are currently experiencing. He told us about a recent mishap you had with the refugees in Trost.” 

“Oh, yes, that makes sense.” He shifted in his chair and pulled out an envelope from his jacket. 

“Another reason is that I have personal services that deliver mail much faster than the average carrier and much more secretive as well. Currently, the Scout’s are being monitored for reasons I cannot reveal to you. He believes, and I concur, that if your existence is publicized to the government, you could be used as bait or a bargaining chip. Some in the government are not happy with Captain Levi’s placement and rank in the Scouts and the repercussions of his past come back to haunt him. If not now, sometime in the future.” I took the envelope off the table and recognized Levi’s wispy handwriting. A response to my letter. This made my heart sing with joy. He hadn’t forgotten to write back, but he was pushed in a difficult situation that didn’t allow him to. I shouldn’t have doubted him so much.

“Did the monitoring begin around three months ago?” He nodded and I noticed Hange was looking between be and the letter. She’s very curious about Levi’s private life, and I couldn’t blame her. I had been that interested in him as soon as he walked into my café. 

“There is information that the Scout’s have been given that can be perceived as a huge security threat if society gets wind of it. I also agree with the government’s judgement on that and am trying my best to limit security breaches in the Scouts.” That’s when the real reason they were here hit me. It wasn’t to deliver a letter and oogle at our relationship. I was a security threat to them. I was in trouble. My mind went back to the night Levi and I had before he left. Had he told them about that too? How much has he said?

“I see. That is why you came here today, I assume.” I looked him right in the eyes and he didn’t seem to have any anger in them. I remembered Levi and I’s conversation about Erwin. I wasn’t going to know at all what he was thinking until he specifically told me.

“I have known Levi enough to build trust with him. I trust him with information that is top secret and dangerous for society. If certain things get out, it could cause riots and more civil unrest as the expense of the Scouts. Levi has told me that you support the Scout’s endeavors the most out of any branch of the military. I hope that the support you have for us also translates into loyalty.” He didn’t blink, waiting for my response. 

“He hasn’t told me anything of that nature, Commander. The only thing he has told me is that he cannot morally support whatever the Scout’s are doing at the beginning of the coming year.” Hange seemed to let out a sigh of relief and I even saw Erwin sit back an inch. I understood why they might be on edge about that. They have no idea how Levi is when he is with someone like me and I am someone who frequents the refugee camps. 

“Yes, that seems to be a common theme among our officers. However, we do not have the power needed to fight back against orders directly from the government. I hope that once the plans reach the public ear, your support of the Scouts and Captain Levi doesn’t waiver. It would be a shame for the Captain to have a good thing leave him for something that he didn’t have a choice in.” I took another breath and noticed my heart was slowing down. I wasn’t going to be thrown in some dungeon and tortured for the information I don’t know. That made me feel better about this conversation. 

“Now, I must plainly state the requests we have for you. They shouldn’t be unreasonable, but I will say this is the first time we’ve had someone of Captain Levi’s rank be involved with a normal citizen. I think you can see why we have the need to be cautious and explain common Scout things to someone who isn’t in our place. You could be a security threat if you do not know proper protocol.” That was only slightly demeaning. 

“Yes, Commander. I do understand the need for me to know what I can and cannot do or say.” He smiled again and it amazed me the duality he had. He made you feel welcomed with his smile, and then completely intimidated with his status and demeanor. 

“As you are in a relationship with someone who is given classified information on a daily basis, it can be possible for it to easily slip out of Levi when he isn’t thinking. We ask you not to repeat anything you hear from Levi, even if you disagree with it. There may come a time when people you know are involved or put in danger by the operations of the Royal Government, therefore I’m asking you to bear some of the pain of a Scout officer in these situations.” 

“It seems you’re setting me up for the coming year, Commander… or at least you have a situation in mind currently.” Hange smirked and pointed at me. 

“You’re smart, Eva. I can see how you might last around Levi’s.” I wonder what they think Levi and I’s interactions are. They probably don’t think I’m the one who makes him suffer with my words more than he does me. Imagine if they knew how much I made their Captain blush. I smiled thinking about it. 

“The next request. As I extend my protection to you, I request you do the same to Levi and any Scout who is in need of assistance. Captain Levi was once a wanted man, and the government could easily turn their back on him if they deem it worthy of their agenda. There might come a time where you will have to shield or protect Levi or members of the Scout Regiment from the Royal Government. I’m best stating that, as someone in a relationship with the Captain, you may need to lie and commit treason for his or our safety. You are a part of the Scout Regiment now, and that is some of the responsibility that comes with it.” I sat there and thought that one over. It was a huge request, but not one that would easily deter me from Levi and the Scouts. I thought of the Garrison soldiers kicking down Eren Jaeger everyday, or Mitras not dispatching any MPs or food supplies to the districts struggling to stay alive. If I knew it was for the better, I could easily betray them. I owe nothing to the government.

“You don’t have to accept this right awa-” I shook my head and stopped him. 

“No, I can do that. The government has never done anything for me. I can easily betray them for a cause and people I believe in.” This made both of them smile instantly. 

“Levi was right, your loyalty and regard seems to be astounding, Eva. I believe he has found a fine woman to be with.” I looked down at my hands, trying to hide the blush with my hair. I don’t know why that compliment hit me the way it did, but people admiring our hidden relationship made me happy, I guess. Especially the Commander. It wouldn’t happen much more than this, so I should savor it.

“Am I able to make requests, Commander?” I looked up at him again when my blush subsided. 

“Erwin. You can call me Erwin, and I will try my best to accept them. If it is something I cannot do, I will have to refuse. Our positions of freedom are very different, Eva.” I nodded and took another sip of my juice. There has been something bothering me since Levi and I had talked about Erwin. 

“If you are asking me to put my life and reputation on the line for the Scouts and Levi, I must request that equally. I understand you cannot predict the outcome of expeditions, and I know we both know that Levi won’t die simply because of that. I’m specifically asking for you to protect him against the government.” He crossed his arms and I still couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“I don’t think I know what you mean, Eva. You can’t be asking me to commit treason for one soldier? I am unable to do that.” I shook my head at him and formulated my next sentences. I also had a specific scenario in my mind. 

“If the government asks something of Levi that would lead to his certain death, no matter how it will help society, I want you to do everything you can to protect him from that fate. Refuse his service. Discharge him from the Scouts. Anything it takes. I know he’ll take it, no matter what they give him, but I want to be selfish for him. He’s too valuable to humanity to be lost in such a simple manner. ” 

“It seems you’re setting me up for something, Eva… or at least you have a situation in mind currently,” he mimicked my words and it made me smirk a bit. We could play the same game with each other. It felt nice to be able to be on the same level with him right now unlike the last few minutes. We were bartering back and forth. I was in my element. I could never match his strategy or intelligence, but I knew how to make a deal. 

“Secondly, give him more breaks. Every time I see him he’s tired and complaining about the amount of paperwork he has to do. I haven’t seen him in person in almost five months because of whatever you seem to be planning. At least a monthly break. You know how he gets when he’s overworked.” This made Hange laugh again and I noticed then how quiet she had been throughout Erwin’s requests. It made me think how intelligent she was as well. All the officers must be. She had her quirks, but she knew when to be serious.

“That… that is something I cannot promise you. I can try my hardest, but when we are as busy as we are now, I cannot let anyone slack off because their family requested it. You must see I have to be fair about it.” I frowned, not liking that answer, but I knew he wasn’t going to change that. I was being more selfish than I could be right now. I even had one more, morbid request to get through. This one was one that I had thought about over the last few months. What if. 

“Lastly, if Levi does die, I want you to tell me directly, Erwin,” I looked up, locking eyes with him to make sure he knew how important this request was, “I won’t believe any random cadet or Garrison soldier who comes to deliver the news and I won’t believe it if I don’t see him come back with the rest. I’ll make up excuses and scenarios. I want you to tell me personally that he’s finally gone and let me go get his things from the HQ. If it comes from you, I know it’s true. It doesn’t have to be in person, a letter would suffice, but I want it directly from you Erwin,” my eyes were pleading for him to accept, “Can you do that?” He looked back at me after thinking for a few moments. 

“Yes, I can do that, Eva. However, a letter can easily be copied and someone can steal my signature. If I do send you something… I’ll send it along with my bolo tie,” He pointed to the green orb on a cord around his neck,  “I can’t assure how quickly the news will come, but you will be the first civilian to know. This request, however, I have no anticipation of needing to do any of this.” I nodded, accepting that answer. We both had equal confidence in Levi’s ability.

“Thank you… Erwin.” I sat up and looked to Hange, waiting for her to say something. She had been leaning more and more forward as I talked through my requests. She wanted to say something, but wouldn’t interrupt her Commander for it. 

“Oh, it is my turn! I only have one request for you and then a ton of questions to ask you! Is that okay? I know you have the kid to take care of. By the way, son? Brother? Who is he?” I held my hands up and shook them ‘no’ when she said son. 

“He’s just a boy I watch because his parents don’t. I take care of him and feed him. He has an older sister, too.” 

“Ah,” Erwin nodded, “Captain Levi also told me you take kids off the street and give them a second chance. Is he one of those children?” I raised an eyebrow. 

“No, he has a home and family. What else has Levi told you about me?” I didn’t know we were just giving out information about each other to people. Hange answered my question again. 

“You own a café where he gets tea. It’s your past caretakers café. You were given it after he died. Uh, what did he say about your character? He said you’re fiercely loyal, which is definitely true, and that you’re very charitable, hence taking care of the kids. He didn’t say it all nicely like that, but I think you can guess how he said it.” 

“He said something to the effect of ‘She has this awful part of her where she puts all her faith in anyone and takes in brats to give them a second chance’, which, I understand why Levi sees that as a bad thing, but I find it nice to be charitable.” It made me laugh for the first time, Erwin trying to mimic Levi’s tone of voice.

“My request!” Hange hit the table, like she just remembered that she had one to give. I wonder how crazy this one was going to be. 

“I’ll try my best, Hange.” 

“My request is that you make him happy,” My heart skipped a little when she said that and she continued after she heard no protest, “We don’t know much about him or the way he thinks, but we do know what he’s been through. The expedition before he met you, his two friends from the Underground were eaten by titans when he wasn’t there to save them. He was getting so temperamental and would blow his lid at anyone just like that when we came back. No one could blame him, he had just lost his friends to titans and he found out that he didn’t even need to. There are a lot of details, but I’ll leave that to Levi. Anyways, we needed to get him out of HQ, so I recommended this café because I think your strawberry turnovers are excellent! After he came here, he started to change. Mellow out as much as Levi could. All the officers started wondering why he’d changed so rapidly and we thought he was sneaking out to go drink himself to death. Then, I saw you at the year-end festival with him. I knew then it was you, and think of the amazing confirmation he gave me when he kept requesting me to go get you after his injury!” I felt tears well up in my eyes for some reason. I remembered how he looked when he walked in: tired from death. I didn’t know it was the death of his friends that made him that way, and here I was trying to tease him over some tea. I was such an idiot. 

“I think you’ve made Captain Levi feel something he’s never felt before. He still acts the same towards us because he has to keep up this façade, but with you, I’m sure he’s completely different. Actually, he has gotten more relaxed around the cadets and makes them run a bit less. Slowly, your impact is breaking into his everyday life. So, my request is that you keep doing that. He’s a broken kid, but he’s found someone to heal him. That’s what he told us you do, isn’t it?” The way Hange was looking at me, I just wanted to cry then. I don’t think anyone’s ever said something like that to me. She’s putting me at such high regard for something that I so desperately want to do for others. It was a confirming moment telling me that I was doing something right. 

“I-I promise, Hange.” Her smile grew bigger and Erwin slowly stood up, signaling her it was time to go. I stood up too, but held my hand up to him.

“Yes?” 

“I have a last, small request for you, Erwin. That little boy, basically as Commander of the Scouts, you’re his hero. He’s starting to have this obsession with them ever since I got him this toy. If you could just talk to him for a bit and tell him about the Scouts? You know, minus the bad things?” He huffed once in laughter and agreed to do it. When I yelled to call Elias down stairs, he almost fell on his face when he tripped on the kitchen door. He looked up at Erwin expectantly. 

“Elias,” I put my hands on his shoulders, pushing him forward, “This is my friend Commander Erwin. He knows how much you like the Scouts and can tell you about it if you want…” I trailed off at the end, but Elias had already ran up to Erwin, looking up at the man three times his size. 

“How big is a titan?!” I smiled as the two blonde haired boys sat.

Hange came over to the counter where I was sitting and hopped up there with me. I didn’t mind and made room for her, staring at the interaction that was happening in front of us. Elias was even showing him the toy I had bought. 

“So… What does Levi think about the kids?” She so badly wanted to prod Levi’s brain and find out how he ticks, but she’d have to do it through me. Now that they knew everything, I’d guess I’d tell her a little bit. 

“Levi bought him that horse. Elias doesn’t know it, but Levi said he wanted an eight year old boy to have what he wanted at that age. He’s only talked to June once I think, but he helped her win over some boys in her class. I don’t think he could tolerate Elias’s questions as much as Erwin is doing right now though.” She nodded.

“When you two have kids of your own, I think he’ll like them a bit better than he does other people’s kids.” I choked on the air and coughed loud enough that both Erwin and Elias stopped their conversation and looked over at us. Hange just waved them off and patted my back. Kids? He hasn’t even kissed me yet. 

“Hange, we’ve only been together for a few months, and for most of them I haven’t even seen him.” She shrugged and gave me her crazy smile again. 

“I don’t know, you two seem pretty compatible. Now, I haven’t seen you interact, but from what I can tell, you like each other enough. I’ve never seen someone hang around Levi as long as you have. Mark my words, you’ll have cute kids. I want to help name one!” I gave her a crazy look, willing her to stop talking about the topic. Imagine if she mentioned it to Levi, how irate he would be with her. I can’t even talk about sleeping in the same bed with him. 

“Hange, we’re not-” Erwin stood up and patted Elias’s head again. Thank gods they were done. I don’t know if I could deal with any more of Hange’s future visions and questions. Is this how Levi feels with me?

“Hange, it’s time for us to get back. We have another meeting soon and Levi’s waiting to reprimand us for coming here when he said not to.” She puffed out air like she wanted to continue our conversation further, but hopped off the counter and walked to the door with Erwin. 

“It was good meeting you, Eva. I’m sure we will have many more of these in the future.” 

“Bye, Eva! Bye, Elias! Don’t worry, Eva, he’ll be home soon! Hold on a bit more!” Hange screamed as she walked out the door behind Erwin. I could still hear her gossiping as they got on their horses and rode off back to HQ. 

“Eva, why did they want to talk to you?” Elias broke the silence as I stared at the door. Home. He’ll be home. Was I home? 

“Elias, can you keep a secret? A super, super top secret that no one else can know?” His eyes widened and he nodded over and over again. 

“Yes, I can. I promise!” I smiled down at him and ruffled his hair a bit more. 

“Even Erwin doesn’t want you to tell this secret to anyone.” That got the boy more excited to know, and I knew it would keep his mouth shut. 

“I promise! Tell me, tell me, tell me!” If Levi had already told two people, I guess I could too. What’s the harm in telling an eight year old boy? 

“Captain Levi and I are together.” He pulled a weird face, sitting down at the table and pulling out his school work. His excitement immediately dropped away.

“That’s it? I thought it was going to be a fun secret, Eva.” This little boy is incredible. The first person I tell, and he could care less.

“You’re the only person in Trost who knows, Elias. It is a fun secret!” I tried to defend my relationship in front of the eight-year-old. I guess he was picky on which Scouts he liked. 

“Eva, can I have some juice please?” I gave him an annoyed look as he completely skipped over the subject. I should’ve told June first and not a little boy who still thinks girls have cooties. 

“No, you can have it after you finish your homework.” He groaned at my payback and shifted back and forth in his chair. I didn’t waiver and decided to ignore his pleas in favor of reading the letter I had been anticipating for months. 

His handwriting was so nice and I wondered even who taught him how to write so well in the first place. My handwriting was awful because the orphanage had a limited budget for pencils and teachers. I could barely read cursive and only used it to sign my name. When I told Levi this is a response to his first letter, he had laughed at me in his reply, but wrote it all in print for me. Even his print was perfect. It made me annoyed, but they were pretty to look at in addition to their contents. They weren’t love letters by any means, but they were nice to receive and imagine what he was doing. 

Dear Mara (This one doesn’t seem to fit your face, but it’s the only one I could think of), 

As you requested in your last letter, for some reason, my daily routine: 

4 AM - I am either up or wake up from an hour or two of sleep to take a shower. The water pressure is the best at this time as no one is taking one.

5 AM - I make myself tea, now, it’s the peppermint you sent me. I thank you for that, but now my tongue can’t stand any other flavor that’s not on par with it. I’ll light a candle and do some light paperwork and plan the morning workout for the cadets, waiting for the sun.

6 AM - The cadets have 30 minutes to get ready in full gear and come to eat breakfast until seven. I eat early, limiting the interactions I have with Hange as she’s loud in the morning. 

7:30 AM - Training starts with a morning run and workout. They might do hand-to-hand after or work on ODM. Whatever I feel like sitting and watching that day, I make them do. On the days when they’re getting really annoying, I’ll make them practice ground maneuvers since it’s hard to kill titans with no trees. Recently, we’ve been starting to go over formations for the mission I can’t tell you about. 

12 PM - We eat lunch, and recently it’s been bad. The food shortage has hurt our stock and I know the Garrison probably laughs at us as they get to eat meat. We ran out of meat last week.

From then on, the cadets have classroom work to do to memorize our signals and formations. I usually do more paperwork and we have officer meetings over and over again until dinner at six. After that, surprise, paperwork again. We went to the capital to get talked over again last week, so that was a break in my routine, but other than that I do paperwork until my eyes hurt, then I’ll go make more tea and take some biscuits from the canteen. Sometimes there are small disputes I have to settle, cadets to discipline, or one-on-one meetings with Erwin. Recently, he’s asked me if I want to create a Special Operations Team with the best Scouts for the next mission and beyond. I’ve been studying and reading over the files of each Scout. Maybe, you can help me form the team if I come across any trouble picking, but it’s not like there are many to choose from. 

I plan to tell Erwin about our relationship soon. During our meetings in the capital, my position is always questioned and threatened by the four heads of the Royal Government. If they find out about any weakness, not that you are weak now that I’ve trained you, they might use that against me. If I tell Erwin about you, he can give you certain protections. Other than him, I have no intention of telling anyone else and it hasn’t seemed to come up in regular conversation. Hange always has something off to the side to say about you, and I suspect she knows something, but she keeps quiet around others. If she doesn’t keep her mouth shut, you might not hear from her again. Perhaps I will tell my Special Ops Team since trust is needed for a team to work, but that won’t be for another few months or even a year.

You asked me if I needed anything and currently, I would like a bit more tea, if possible. I’m limiting myself to three cups a day since my tea leaves are dwindling. I’m struggling without you and your tea, but I know you can’t ship yourself here through the carrier system. I was right about the cuddling… I miss it and it does make it difficult to try and sleep, knowing a much more comfortable option exists. I won’t go on more because I don’t miss your teasing. Hopefully, I will see you in the next month's time, but right now, it seems the Royal Government is about to monitor us. Going back and forth to you might harm you, and I won’t risk that. It’s helped, this feeling of missing you, by the cadets used for refugee security. It’s been reported almost everyday that a light-brown haired woman, no older than 30 with light green eyes leans out a window about a café with a red lettered sign and stares at the Scouts coming in during the sunrise. I knew right away it was you. I hope you’re getting enough sleep and not being irresponsible with the amount of hours you work on the refugee’s bread. 

I must now go to another officer’s meeting in Erwin’s office to discuss something boring. I’d rather be helping you knead dough for a thousand loaves then sit in his office one more time. 

My questions for you: Has the Garrison brought those brats you said to sponsor over yet? Have you decided to open back up the café? Has the girl gotten her apprenticeship? Have you told Jonas that if he touches you one more time while I’m going, I will break his fingers? You said you might cut your hair, is this true? Have you yet? 

Till your next letter and next delivery of twenty grams of peppermint tea, 

Captain Levi

Chapter Eleven →

Chapter Masterlist

xx Everyone say thank you to MAPPA for Levi and Armin’s faces <3

[seven-oomen]

If You Are Going Through Hell, Keep Going

These are the words that Marin Morrell – Druid, Emissary, Guidance Counselor – says to Stiles Stilinski in “Battlefield” (02x11) And I think they suit his character just perfectly, because Stiles has been going through Hell all his life.

The Teen Wolf Fandom don’t talk nearly enough about Stiles’ traumas, so I’ll try my best to do it myself *I won’t even remotely touch on the Void Stiles, Dark Stiles, Donovan and the Nogitsune trauma though, because it’s extremely complex and deserves its own Meta*

It’s Canon that Noah was an alcoholic (as Rafael pointed out to Stiles in 03x11 Alpha Pact), that he neglected and lashed out at his own child (Stiles’ memory in 02x09 Party Guessed), and that Stiles was verbally, emotionally, and physically abused by his mentally ill mother, Claudia, throughout his childhood (there’s a whole magnificently acted, heart wrenching scene about it with flashbacks and all in 05x06 Required Reading.) It’s Canon that Stiles had to take care of himself and of his father before AND after Claudia’s death. And it’s Canon that Stiles – who was only an eight years old child at the time – was at the hospital with his mother when she died, nobody else:

[Teen Wolf Season 3 Episode 11, Alpha Pact]

CHRIS: You knew… I remember meeting you once, before you were Sheriff. You questioned me about a body. You knew something was up. You just weren’t ready to believe it.

NOAH: You’re right. There was a night eight years ago… the night my wife died. I was at the end of a shift, and a call came in. There had been a pile-up, and a young woman… she was a teenager, actually. She was trapped under an overturned car. We had to wait for the paramedics. We were never getting her out, but I was able to hold her hand. She knew she was gonna die. But I just kept telling her “No, no, listen. The paramedics are on their way.” And then I remember her hand suddenly gripped mine so tightly that I literally thought she was gonna break the bones. And she looked me in the eyes, and she said “If you wanna be with her, go now.” And I knew she was talking about my wife… But then that other part of my brain — the part that looks for clues, for fingerprints, for logical connections… that part told me that there is no way that this girl could possibly know about Claudia. And so I stayed. I stayed until the paramedics pulled her out. Until her heart stopped beating and they declared her dead.

NOAH: When I finally got to the hospital, I saw Stiles sitting in the waiting room with his head in his hands… He was with Claudia when she died.

NOAH: But I wasn’t. I wasn’t with her because I didn’t believe… I just did not believe.

It’s also Canon that Derek Hale is a rape victim and that the hunters slaughtered Derek, Cora and Peter’s entire pack/family (including humans and children.) And it’s Canon that Stiles immediately sides with the Hales and openly confronts Chris about what Kate had done to the Hales in 01x12, Code Breaker:

CHRIS: Let me ask you a question, Stiles. Have you ever seen a rabid dog?

STILES: No. I could put it on my to-do list, if you just let me go.

CHRIS: Well, I have. And the only thing I’ve ever been able to compare it to is seeing a friend of mine turn on a full moon. Do you wanna know what happened?

STILES: Not really. No offense to your storytelling skills.

CHRIS: He tried to kill me, and I was forced to put a bullet in his head. The whole while that he lay there dying, he was still trying to claw his way toward me, still trying to kill me, like it was the most important thing he could do with his last breath. Can you imagine that?

STILES: No. And it sounds like you need to be a little bit more select—

CHRIS: Did Scott try to kill you on the full moon? Did you have to lock him up?

STILES: Yeah, I did. I had to handcuff him to a radiator. Why? Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and burned the whole house down around him?

CHRIS: I hate to dispel a popular rumor, Stiles, but we never did that.

STILES: Oh, right. Derek said you guys had a code. I guess no one ever breaks it.

CHRIS: Never!

STILES: What if someone does?

CHRIS: Someone like who?

STILES: Your sister.

Unlike self-proclaimed hero and ruler of Beacon Hills Scott McCall, who immediately sides with the Argents and tells Derek Hale that his family deserved to be burnt alive by the hunters in front of his comatose uncle………..

-----

I feel like there is a lot to unpack on Stiles’s trauma. And I will go over these moments one by one, why they’re damaging, what I think the context of the scene is supposed to represent ft how people might take it. And what my personal thoughts are regarding Stiles’s trauma.

First of, I would like to say that the following words are my take on this. I am a 29 year old trans man of caucasian descend who is an domestic violence and abuse survivor. I am diagnosed with ADHD since 12 and diagnosed with CPTSD since this year. I understand trauma and I understand what it does to people. But I am not a professional. I am a fan, who’s responding to the submission of another, anonymous, fan.

You are completely free to have your own takes on this matter and your own headcanons. That’s what fandom is for.

That said, I would love to have a discussion if you can have it peacefully.

Stiles is a character who was (Unwillingly) neglected, emotionally traumatized and both emotionally and verbally abused by both of his parents. There is even evidence of physical abuse by his mother.

I think it does need to be said, that neither of his parents intended for this to happen. What happened in the Stilinski family was by and large a very traumatic event for everyone involved.

Noah is an alcoholic, as Stiles also confirms in the episode that Noah never really stopped drinking. His alcoholism is a result of his own traumas and possible ND mind and an unhealthy coping mechanism.

As a result of this, Noah most likely was verbally and emotionally abusive during his drunken tirades.

I personally think that before Claudia was diagnosed and got sick Stiles had a good childhood. His parents tried their best to be good parents for him and laid a good foundation for him. This is evidenced in the bond Stiles seems to have with his father in general. He’s not afraid of his father, he’s nervous about consequences. But he never gives off a vibe to me that truly says; I fear this man and I have to stay in line to stay alive.

Unlike Isaac and his father.

This also tells me, that unlike Elias Stilinski, Noah never lashed out physically at Stiles. He was trying to break a cycle of abuse but more than likely still fell victim to it himself when he could no longer cope with trauma and his neurodivergency and started drinking.

That doesn’t mean that he’s not guilty of abusing his own son. We know Noah can be neglectful and dismissive towards Stiles (even though he tries his best not to be) and has a tendency to low key insult Stiles from time to time. Whether or not he truly means to or not is up for debate, I personally think he doesn’t mean to do it, but Stiles is clearly heartbroken every time Noah accidentally lashes out. 

As evidenced by sentences: “I’ve never believed a word he said since he was born.” “Thank you, son I should have had.” (To Scott)

Stiles already has a deep founded fear that he’s not enough, that he killed his own mother, that he’s not believed by the people around him, and that people don’t want to take him seriously.

This is clear in every interaction he has with the people around him.

Which also brings me to what happened in 2x09. Now based on the context clues of that scene, I actually don’t believe Stiles saw a play-by-play memory. But rather, Stiles saw his greatest fear play out in a hallucination. 

Why do I believe that?

Because in the same scene, Allison has a hallucination about becoming her own worst nightmare (a huntress like Kate) and Scott sees a hallucination of Allison and Jackson making out. (Aka, losing Allison.) 

I think the scene both has fabrications and truths in it. The truth is that more than likely, Stiles saw his father getting drunk at his mother’s funeral and lashing out at people around him in his drunken stupor. (Which on one hand, one can understand if you take the pain and trauma into account, but it’s not a healthy or an okay thing to do, obviously. This is definitely where Noah fell apart.)

I also like to think one of the other adults put a stop to Noah’s behavior before he could get out of hand. But we never really see her funeral play out, so that is speculation.

The fabrication is the scene that follows. We know that Claudia was the one that actually said the words to Stiles. “You’re killing me, he’s killing me.” 

And that Noah was the voice of reason in that scene. “No, he’s not. You’re sick, let’s go back inside.” (Or something along those lines. I can’t remember the exact words.)

What I think is more than likely is that Stiles’s greatest fear is that his father actually believes he killed his mother. As that is what his mother said to him before she died.  And so that’s what he hallucinated under the influence of the wolfsbane.

Stiles’s greatest fear is losing both of his parents, no matter in what way that is. He also fears that he failed as a son, and failed to take care of his father. All of this is fueled by losing his mother and watching her die at a very young age.

And that is where Stiles’s trauma truly lies. He watched his mother die (at the age of 10) slowly while she lost her mind to a terrible illness. 

His father couldn’t handle losing his wife and not being able to help her and the previous traumas he endured in his own childhood. And Stiles had to step up to take care of him. That changes a child and leaves a mark. A mark that Stiles can’t shake.

We know Noah neglected Stiles by not being able to care for him as he should have, we know Noah tends to think Stiles has wild conspiracy theories and tends not to believe him.

Which traumatized Stiles even though Noah didn’t intend for that to happen. That doesn’t mean that Stiles’s trauma isn’t real though. It’s very real. This is also the reason why he immediately chooses Derek’s side in 1x12.

For Stiles, not being believed is a daily reality and he doesn’t want anyone else to go through that as well. Which is why he chooses Derek’s side. Because Stiles, due to his own trauma, is hard-wired to believe the victim and tends to defend them.

Now I think a lot of people take a lot of Stiles’s scenes literal because they identify with what’s happening on screen. Because Stiles isn’t being believed by the other characters, the audience tends to take his perspective at face value. Even in situations where it’s made clear that Stiles, like other characters, is hallucinating at the time.

And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, but I do think it’s something to consider.

Tagging a few people who might want to add a thought or two to this.

@mostly-vo1d @artemisa97 @msmischief101

[nanashiii]

Heron x queen!reader

So this is my first fandom contribution ever and even if it sucks I'm happy with it lol, it's kinda of a wip and since english is not my first language...well, it may just worsen the whole thing :,)

@zen-gordon I'm sorry it took so much time to write it 😖😖

↠ Wc: 1.7k

↠ Chapter 1

↠ Warnings: none yet

There was something to be revealed to you, the new queen of the polis, your mother wanted to warn you about who you really are.

She seemed to be delirious that night, it was a celebration, everyone was partying, the Palace in an uproar for some successful hunt or something of the same relevance for the nobles.

"Y/n, my ... daughter, listen to me, please ..." she was disheveled, so different from her usual self, eyes trembling. You thought it was the drink's fault, the wine must have been too strong.

It was a foolish judgment, the queen had been poisoned that same night, during the feast.

You guided her to the royal quarters, your mother's speech becoming more and more vague. And waiting for her to fall asleep, you stared at the night sky.

An eagle watched both of you from the top of a tree, which years before, had been struck by lightning. The bird was abnormally big, aside from the fact that it was nothing nocturnal.

The observation lasted a few minutes - a clash of swords and shields made you jump from the bed, which you have sited next to the queen - the woman lulled into an apparently peaceful sleep.

A maid - Lamia, the queen's most old and loyal lady, entered the room like a gust of wind, her eyes wide and blood on her robes matching her panicked face.

She was crying, her hands trembling as she grabbed yours in an attempt to get you out of the room.

You were on your feet instantly.

"My sweet child." The maid sobbed. "I can't let them kill you too."

"What?!" You felt the air escaping your lungs way too fast.

"The king is dead ... the queen ..." the woman staggered, trying to contain her crying. "Poisoned. There was poison in her food and drinks and ..."

The world seemed to shatter around you, at least, you world, the servant's words becoming distant murmurs. You turned, almost falling on the queen's bed, grabbing a hand that was already cold and purple with some grotesque poison.

Before a scream broke from your throat, someone covered your mouth, dragging you out of the room. You couldn't tell if it was the maid or a guard. Everything looked like a blur between tears, howls and a metallic smell that was beginning to approach.

The guards who remained in the stable placed you at the maid's side upon two black steeds, assuring that they would follow the new queen, you, soon. But first they would need to find the murderer.

The night had never seemed so terrifying to you, but Lamia tightened her knuckles, her eyes red with tears lit by the moon.

"We will take refuge in the Palace of your Aunt, in the neighboring polis." She will give you all the support you need." Lamia said, looking back one last time, you followed her movement.

Something in your heart seemed to sunk, as if someone had staked it there, tears flowed hot, sobs broke out and somehow now your horse was on the trail of the other steed.

It was a nightmare, Phobetor was playing with you.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<

He wasn't.

The next morning was so real that you almost felt ill. Taken by the shock, you arrived at your Aunt's palace in the polis that had heavy rain clouds but, strangely, didn't let not even one drop touch the soil. Even so, nothing seemed to matter at that moment, you were guided to a new room, an aunt dismayed and angry at what they did to her brother, shouted orders to your own remaings guards and when things calmed down days later, she decided that you coronation should be done there and soon.

The aid of a noble should always be questioned, she would probably ask for favors during the next years, but you couldn't even bear the thoughts of dealing with it, so the best option was to ignore your aunt's apparently innocent help.

"My queen, may I suggest something?" Lamia mumbled, she have spent more time by your side since that cursed night.

She couldn't ignore your current state, the sleepless nights and nocturnal fears were claiming it's own price. There were always creeping nightmares waiting for you, so the wandering nights inside your aunt's palace seemed much more appealing than a nightmare filled sleep. Soon both of you would need to go back to your truly palace, it seemed that your aunt's mercy was coming to an end more quickly than what you have expected.

"What is it?" You didn't even blinked an eye as you replied to the maid, one commotion down the plebe stands catching your attention as the sound of shouting voices started to reach your ears.

It seemed like a group of men harassing a lonely woman - well she looked a bit like an outcaster there, with everyone turning their eyes to the explicit violence against her.

"A guard's switch, my queen." Lamia approached your side.

What was making her so absorbed after all? The servant questioned herself, seeing nothing but a normal day at the polis.

"I think that, with a personal guard selected by yourself will bring you some peace, most nobles do this when they ascend to the throne" Lamia explained.

When the woman was brutally pushed by one of the five men, an young man appeared, he came running and as fast as he reached the group, he punched and even used a knife at some point. Almost slicing someone's throat.

He helped the woman to rise again, with some caution.

The two left, disappearing from your view.

I may need warriors like this one.

No...

I need this one.

He was ...

"I accept your suggestion, Lamia, can you organize everything so I can meet and choose them during the next week?"

"Of course my dear queen, I'll start it immediately." Lamia bowed, now questioning what could possibly have happened for the queen's complexion to light up. Nonetheless what has caused it she was glad for.

"And Lamia, make sure that they know about how generous the new queen is when it comes to payments."

"Yes, I'll be sure they hear about it" the servant bowed a second time and then left you, it didn't take too much time to another servant to come and replace her.

Your thoughts seemed to run more wildly as the day passed by.

The sudden attraction to the man made you question yourself, was it because he was the one who made you wake up from an aphatic state?

You weren't sure.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Zeus, in this case and in this form, Elias, was once again wandering drunkenly through the streets of the polis, enjoying the few pleasures that an old mortal could give himself and also maintaining his disguise.

He had overheard the conversation of one of the servants of the new queen, queen who was Demeter's and a mortal's daughter mortal which the goddess decided to deny the existence, handing her daughter over to a sterile human queen.

A demigod, just like his own son.

The two shared a strangely similar past, even when it came to traumatizing nights.

The disguised god walked back to his lover and son's home, the new queen's offer was too tempting for Heron to refuse, no matter how stubborn he could be. He had declined Alexia's offer, and perhaps the regret would make him choose right this time.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<

Lamia had organized everything just as the queen asked, her aunt did not hide the relief that you were leaving soon and wandered happily around the room in which the three of you were.

"The men in my polis make great guards, excellent warriors." the mourning for her brother had dissipated quickly, and it also increased your desire to leave that place, now the cloudy clouds seemed to worsen your mood.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<

You were waiting for them inside a kind of canopy like bed, Lamia had murmured something about only the selected ones seeing your face. It was a strange security issue and the day was particularly hot making you hate the stupid idea even more. But there was something, making your afternoon a little more tolerable.

The chance of seeing him again.

A few remaining men from your old guard positioned themselves near the door and soon it was opened, the first candidate entering the room, an undoubtedly strong man, but it wasn't the one you're seeking to see.

Your frustration almost materialized right there, and a doubt arose, what made you believe that he would appear?

As you were selecting the most competent ones, or at least apparently competent, your hope of seeing him again was being drained as the hours passed by, soon you would have to leave the polis and perhaps you should have to accept the fact that you would not see him again.

Besides, as a new queen there would be more important things to deal with, and soon this sudden...

The door opened again, the last one to be chosen and you had to control yourself not to tear the canopy.

It was him.

You were silent for a while, observing every possible detail through the fine fabric, his frame but what has made you literally frozen were his eyes - a vibrant blue, as if the sky and the ocean were inside those irises.

"My queen?" A servant called, waking you from your almost trance.

You composed yourself. Continuing with the same questions I had repeated so many times earlier.

"Your name?"

"It's Heron."

"Well Heron, you must already know I'm not from this polis, even so, are you willing to work as one of my guards?"

Tension filled your brain, after all he could simply deny it, you remembered the woman he helped, could she possibly be a relative?

He stayed silent for some seconds, his face was doubt itself but soon with was replaced by calm and determination.

"Yes, I'm willing too." Heron replied.

"Great." your response didn't matched the sheer happiness that you were feeling. You proceeded with the other questions about what weapon could he wield, combat experience...

You weren't really listening to Heron's answers, still mesmerized simply by seeing him close enough, even so, you managed to inform him that you all would be departing soon and he should prepare for doing so.

"You can go now."

He left the room and so did you, watching from a safe distance as he kept walking down the aisle, there was definitely something different about him.

Something that seemed weirdly familiar to you.

What was it?

[ieattaperecorders]

Something's Different About You Lately - Chapter 12: The Truth

All cards are laid on the table. Everything ends tonight.

Read on Ao3

"How far do these go? Are we even under the Institute anymore?"

Melanie trailed behind the group, peering down each turn they passed. Jon wasn't sure if it was curiosity or concern they wouldn't find their way back that kept her dragging her feet, but supposed either way he couldn't blame her. It was profoundly disorienting down here.

"Dunno, honestly," Martin said. "Jon uncovered them a while ago when Jane Prentiss was hiding here, but they've been locked off since then. Safety or liability or something."

"I've come down to look a bit. Mostly just near the entrance, never too deep," Sasha added. "We really ought to make a proper attempt to map them, but Tim is so set against it."

"Because there's dangerous stuff under these old buildings," Tim said darkly. "Not to mention this place has been buried for who knows how many decades without any maintenance. We don't know anything about the structural integrity. Who's to say it won't come down around our heads at any moment?"

" . . . Cheerful thought." Melanie observed.

"Could we save the talk of being buried alive for when we're not actually down here?" Martin asked. "Jon? Are we almost . . . wherever it is we're going?"

"We are going somewhere, I assume?" Melanie called. "Not just wandering in circles because you got lost?"

"We're nearly there," Jon pointed to a turn ahead. "Just down that corridor, it should be far enough in."

"Far enough in for – oh."

Melanie's question was cut off as they rounded the turn, ending in the small chamber where over the past few months, Jon had been slowly been smuggling in crates. At the far end was a shoebox-sized container, which he sifted through until he found what he needed – a small, unlabeled cassette tape.

"All right . . . I know you all have questions for me," he took a breath and turned. "Hopefully this will– Christ Tim, don't lean on that! It has plastic explosives in it!"

With a start, Tim jumped back from the crate he'd been slouching against, blinking at him with surprise. Sighing, Jon gestured to one on the other side of the chamber.

"You can lean on that one if you like, I suppose," he said. "It's just a bunch of eyeless doll's heads."

" . . . Should I even ask?"

"Gertrude used them," he said. "Eyeless dolls, eyeless photographs. Wards to keep Elias's gaze off her. The tunnels help too . . . it's disorienting down here, hard for him to see."

"Elias is our boss. Head of the institute." Sasha supplied for Melanie.

"Jon's been going on lately about him spying on us with some kind of supernatural powers," Tim added. "Honestly I believe it. He's been sending files to me that feel . . . personal."

"You're saying he's, what, psychic?" Melanie asked.

"If you have to call it that, I suppose," Jon said. "What's important is that he has ways of finding things out. Meaning once I explain things, we're all going to be in very immediate danger. If any of you aren't ready for that, you should probably speak up now."

The four of them looked back at him, silent. For the best, he supposed. He pulled a tape recorder from his pocket – it had been purchased this evening for this purpose, and hopefully wasn't supernatural – and placed the tape inside.

"I'll let Gertrude start. She tells it fairly succinctly," with a rueful smile, he held it out towards Sasha. "Would you like to do the honors? It was meant for you."

Sasha glanced at him, stepped forward and pressed play. The dead woman's voice filled the chamber.

* * *

Jon stopped the tape after the explanation, before Jurgen's voice could be heard. It would be hard enough getting everything across without that conversation derailing things.

"Wh – all right." Melanie held up both hands. "So the woman on that tape, she worked here before you. I got that. All that she was saying about – gods and rituals, being supernaturally compelled –"

"That part's true. I've tried," Tim said. "We can't quit. As in can't."

"Fine, all right. But what does it all mean? If this is some sort of cult thing –"

"It's not," Jon said. "You've seen manifestations of the powers with your own eyes. The thing that called itself Sarah Baldwin was an extension of what Smirke called the Stranger. One that hides itself inside human skin."

"What about the thing that attacked her?"

"You already know it better than you think . . . all your subsequent searches have focused on sites of violence – bombings or massacres, military hospitals. You've been following the scent of blood. Maybe you found something in that presence that resonated."

Absently, Melanie's hand went to her shoulder where the scalpel in the Rotherham scrapyard went through it. She looked profoundly sobered.

"So . . ." Sasha said. "Gertrude left this for you, and I'm guessing you found it around the time you started acting so cagey about everything?"

"No. By the time I heard this tape, I‘d already learned all of this the hard way," Jon sighed. "Fourteen months ago, I woke up with memories of years I hadn't lived through . . . ."

He told them everything. The broad strokes at least, the larger things that seemed relevant. He avoided personal details, but tried not to take out the parts that made him look bad. He wanted to be as honest as he could. He explained the ritual – leaving out the truth about the fears being connected, the fewer minds that held that knowledge the better. He explained his role in it, the end of the world, the plan to send his memories back.

Several times the others stopped him to ask questions – pressing in one direction or another, telling him to go back and elaborate. He ended up explaining a great deal about the thing that had replaced Sasha, about Melanie's experience with the Slaughter, about the Circus of the Other.

Surprisingly – or maybe not, really – Martin asked very little about himself. Sasha recognized Peter Lukas's name from the statements, and her subsequent questions led Jon into a more detailed explanation of the Lonely. His gaze kept flicking involuntarily to Martin, as he went through it, and he saw his face slowly change. When he mentioned a moment later that Peter had taken an interest in him, Martin didn't need to ask why.

He told them that Martin had tried to keep Peter occupied. That in the end Peter pulled him into the Lonely, and Jon managed to get him out. That was all they really needed to know.

And then, that was it. That was everything.

". . . I know it's a lot to take in," he finished. "But hopefully you've all seen enough to believe me by now."

"Why didn't you tell us this to begin with?" Melanie asked, an edge in her voice.

"Would you have believed me?" An edge came into his voice to join hers. "You dismissed me when I tried to warn you about dangerous specters, would you have listened to anything I said about memories from a post-apocalyptic future?"

"You could have tried," she muttered.

He nearly matched her tone, tempted to to push back with irritation, but he hesitated. Something in her was struggling against itself. Her fists had been clenched at her sides since he explained the bullet, the Slaughter and all that had happened to her. Her knuckled were white, but she hadn't raised her voice. She was trying. He softened.

"I could have. Maybe I should have . . . but now you know," he looked at the others, pleadingly. "You do believe me, don't you?"

Tim was the first to nod, Melanie was second. Sasha looked at him thoughtfully.

"It's certainly bizarre, but I believe you," she said. "Though I don't understand why you wouldn't send your memories back earlier?"

"Actually yeah," Martin frowned, realization striking him. "Did you just let me get trapped by Prentiss?"

"Of course not! I didn't choose where the memories went," Jon protested. "If I could have done that I'd have gone back before I took this job. Probably years back . . . there are so many things I might have prevented. Tried to, at least."

He sighed heavily, leaning back against one of the less-dangerous crates.

"The past isn't some pristine country with every moment in a living diorama. Time is just one more thing for the powers to twist and distort, and the Beholding shows you what you least want to see. Those memories wouldn't mean as much to the person I was five or ten years ago, and the man I would later become might have even been relieved to have actionable knowledge." He folded his arms. "Even thinking of it as time travel is misleading, really. More accurate to call it regret."

"So . . ." Martin paused. "After Prentiss. . . ."

"Yes. Letting that happen to you is one of many regrets that I have, and it was also a turning point." He closed his eyes. "The night after you came back, I had a breakdown. I was sitting at home, and it was sinking in . . . what had happened, and what it meant. The things I knew where hiding in the darkness weren't going to stay there, and there would be no sitting on the sidelines."

He looked up, smiling sadly. "A mind perfectly readied for the knowledge that would destroy it. Already trapped in the Institute, already attached to people I'd later watch suffer and die. Still hiding in denial, even after it became horribly clear it wouldn't save me."

"Jon . . ."

Martin looked conflicted, and as he drew his arms around himself Jon had to push down the urge to reach for him. He had to be calm. Steady. If he let himself start to break down, that would be it.

"Okay – okay, yes," Martin breathed, "I believe you. But what do we do about it all?"

"We have to destroy the archive," Jon said solemnly. "Finish what Gertrude started. And we can't wait. It's not impossible he already knows what we're discussing, we'll have to act before he can intervene."

He watched Martin take a deep, shaky breath, likely still processing it all. Tim seemed to notice his nerves, coming up beside him and throwing an arm over his shoulder.

"I'm game," Tim said, smiling grimly. "You guys ready for some light arson this evening?"

Martin flinched at first, startled by the touch. Then he let out a weak laugh, shaking his head as Tim jostled him in a comradely fashion. A wave of gratitude swept over Jon, seeing Tim so ready to comfort him. He was still there, Sasha too . . . he hoped they'd be there for Martin when it was all over.

"Putting a pin in committing to any felonies here," Melanie said, "won't your evil boss come after us?"

"That won't be an issue. Jonah Magnus's original body is down here . . . between the explosives and the gas main, collapsing the tunnels will be easy –"

"Sorry, gas main?"

"Oh!" a laugh spilled out of Jon, and he shook his head. "Lord, I nearly forgot. Jurgen Leitner is living down here."

"Excuse me?!" Martin sputtered. "Evil librarian Lietner?"

"He's . . . not as evil as I thought." Jon sighed. "Leitner was a fool who meddled with forces beyond him, hoping to protect the world from them while playing into their hands. But given the path my own life's taken . . . I don't think I've much room to stand in judgment of him now."

He waved a hand and continued. "He has a book that can alter these tunnels. I've already contacted him, he should be moving the buried gas main into place now. When it all goes up in flames, Jonah's body will be immolated and he – Elias – will die." Jon's tone became serious. "Now, I realize some of you may object to what is essentially an act of murder, but--"

"I'm good with it," Tim interrupted.

"Yeah," Martin nodded. "I think we're okay. Guys?"

"I've got no objections," Sasha agreed.

Melanie sighed. "In for a penny, I guess."

". . . Oh." Jon had prepared a speech on why this would be necessary, and was a little disappointed it wasn't needed, apparently. "All right, then."

"Or, one objection, actually." Sasha continued. "Didn't you say that killing him means killing us? Along with all the other employees at the Institute?"

"I have a plan for that." Jon said. "For the people outside the archive it should be simple, assuming you can get into the computer in Elias's office."

"Can, and have before." Sasha confirmed. "It's upsettingly easy. I mean, our bank information is on there."

"If they can quit, they can be fired. You'll just need to change everyone's employment status before we set the charge off."

"What about the rest of us?" Tim kept his tone light, but even Jon could tell there was something darkly serious behind it. "You planning for us all to go down with the ship?"

"No . . . that won't be necessary."

He didn't want to have this conversation, he really didn't. More than once he'd thought about lying, pretending he was going off to perform some elaborate ritual while the others were upstairs. Letting them believe he'd just been caught in the explosion – an accident, unfortunate but natural in its way.

But no. He'd tell them the truth.

"I probably should have told you this sooner, though it hardly matters now. The three of you are connected to me – when the Archivist dies, their assistants are freed," he continued quickly, not leaving room to respond. "I – I'm not needed for most of this plan. When we're finished here the rest of you can go upstairs, I'll stay behind and – well at any rate you should place letters of resignation on Elias's desk to be sure. ‘I quit' and a signature should be enough, just confirm you're no longer bound here before setting off the charge."

"In one night, we'll rid the world of Jonah Magnus, his knowledge, and –" Jon placed a hand on his own chest, gesturing, "–and his tool. The world will be as safe as it can be, for a while at least."

Minutes of silence. The cool air of the tunnels bit through him as he watched the others' faces, trying to glean something from their expressions. Jon couldn't fathom what was going through their heads, he wasn't even sure what he was hoping for.

"Well we're obviously not doing that," Tim said eventually. "So let's brainstorm plan B's. Sash?"

"Oh! Um, well, off the top of my head, I can try changing our information in the computer as well . . . ."

"I very much doubt that will work . . . ." Jon sighed.

"Shall we at least try it before going for the plan that involves death?"

A quiet, frustrated noise came out of Jon. He didn't want to fight them on this. But what did he want from them? What did he expect? It was unfair, he knew, impossibly contradictory – not wanting to hurt them, but wanting to be mourned. Wanting them to care, but not to ask him to live. It could only be one or the other.

"Wait." Melanie said. "You said that I ‘got out' in that, whatever, alternate timeline you remember. Obviously you didn't die then. So there's another way, isn't there?"

"I suppose I could try gouging my eyes out," he said. "That might be enough. If it wasn't, all of you could gouge out yours, that would definitely work--"

"Um--" Sasha began, but Jon continued

"But it's about more than just getting you out. It isn't just this place, it isn't even just the Eye. It's me. There's another power that may still have plans for me, and if it does . . . ." He looked at the others pleadingly. "The Web is insidious, it feeds on the fear of being controlled, of being trapped without knowing it. By the time I even know what it's planning, my will might not be my own any longer."

"But if you don't even know what it's planning –"

"If there's one thing I've learned in all of this, it's that no matter what I do they're always one step ahead. I've told you all what I know, as this point I can only be a liability." He laughed hollowly. "I think, truly, the most good I can do for the world right now is ensuring I can't do it any more harm."

". . . That's a horrible thing to say."

Martin shouldered his way past Tim, stepping closer. His voice was hurt, and angry, and it cut through Jon just as he'd known it would.

"Martin . . . ."

"It's hideous," Martin continued, his jaw tight. "And it's not true. It's a lot of nonsense, Jon."

Jon stepped forward, heart pounding, and reached for Martin's hand. Martin only hesitated a moment before taking it, and it was all Jon could do not to sob in relief. He was hurting him, he was hurting him and he wasn't going to stop, and still Martin accepted his hand. Despite whatever pain or anger he felt right now, he wasn't pushing him away, and the maelstrom of warmth and gratitude and sorrow and regret that rose in Jon threatened to overtake him entirely. He pulled himself closer until there were inches between them, and looked into Martin's eyes.

"I love you," he said, clasping his other hand over Martin's. "More than you will ever know. I wish that we could have a life together . . . but we won't have that either way. If we try, the powers that shape this world will tear it away from us, just as they did before."

Martin breathed in sharply and Jon lowered his gaze, looking at their intertwined fingers. Now dotted with identical scars.

"I – I can't watch that happen again. I'm sorry. I can't." Still looking down, he did his best to give an encouraging smile. "But you won't be alone. You'll all have each other this time, when it's all over. Just . . . take care of each other. And remember that you're loved."

Jon kept his eyes down, afraid to look at him. Already he feared that he'd made a mistake, that he shouldn't have told Martin how he felt. It was cruel to give him that now, to leave him with another reason to feel hurt by his absence. But it was done and out now, and too late to take back. Jon would just have to hope that he'd be all right in the end.

Then he did look up, and met Martin's gaze.

Oh. Yes, it had definitely been a mistake to say he loved him.

What he saw in Martin's face wasn't the expression of sorrow and devastation he'd been afraid of. It was hard, fixed determination. The face of stubborn, blind certainty that had smirked back at Jon when he'd said that they couldn't fight the whole world. A beacon that could rival the dread powers in its brilliance.

"You can remind me yourself, Jon," his voice had no unnatural compulsion behind it, still it demanded to be heard. His grip on Jon's hand was iron-clad. "Because we're finding another way."

Jon's heart tightened painfully in his chest, and he truly could not say whether it was with fear or hope.

[jonspurpleskirt]

Down the Spiral

Tim Stoker & Jonathan Sims, hurt/comfort

Summary: Michael loves playing with the Archivist and so after Not-Sasha is taken care of and Jon is back at the Institute murder charge free it reveals that he has Sasha stashed "savely" in its halls. All Jon has to do to get her out is go through the yellow door. ____

Everything just kept getting worse. That thought hadn't left his mind since the confrontation with Elias. It kept him from his work, making him stare at the statement he had wanted to record hours ago. Something impatient within him tugged to finally get on with it, but his eyes just didn't see the words in front of him and the insides of his head kept resembling a barren wasteland.

There was nothing good in his life anymore. There was nothing good in any of their lives anymore. He had ruined everything. Dragged everyone into the cage with him and locked the door because he hadn't known any better.

If he had just known...

But he hadn't and now they were all trapped here. Nothing waiting for them outside and nothing but hostility meeting them inside. At least that was the case for Jon. He didn't know if Tim and Martin still spoke, still sometimes joked with each other. If Melanie had made friends with Basira perhaps, or god forbid even Daisy. The two of them shared a frightening amount of bloodlust.

He doubted it, though. Whenever he dared to emerge from his office these days the atmosphere in the shared space of the Archives was tense. One or more of them were always gone, Basira more often than not sitting somewhere reading.

Neither of them did much work these days, Jon mused. It was funny that once upon a time that thought would have made him angry.

Jon sighed, glancing over the statement for the upteenth time, saying to himself that now he would finally start and do some work, when loud cursing and several crashes made him jump out of his chair and run towards the door.

He ripped it open with the wrong hand, the burn left by Jude Perry sending a stab of pain through his arm.

Basira, Tim and Melanie were for once all there, and had taken on various defensive poses. They didn't grace Jons dramatic entrance with even the slightest of glances, but the being that called itself Michael grinned and cooed as though it didn't have a knife, an axe and a gun pointed at it.

"Archivist! Just whom I wanted to see~ It is quite hard to get a grip on you, you know. I've been meaning to have a little chat with you for a while now."

Jon squeezed his eyes together to ward of the headache Michaels multiple voices and impossible features always gave him. He breathed through the pain, before looking at the Distortion again, squinting to be able to make out something that resembled a coherent form.

The image still swam in front of him, Michaels smile literally blinding, teeth flashing with too many deeply saturated colours.

"Hello Michael. What do you want?"

"Awww you don't sound excited to see me at all! I've got more of a reaction from your assistants."

The thing pouted, but the grin reappeared fast when it heard the click of the safety of Basiras gun coming off.

"Aha I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The voice it used screeched like nails on a chalkboard and a microphone with its volume set too high. Weapons clattered to the floor as everyone scrambled to shield their ears from the sound. Jon felt a trickle of blood running down the side of his neck and winced.

"There. Better. You people are so rude." The laughter that followed was worse than the voices before, high pitched and low, aggressively amused.

"Michael." Jon hissed and it stopped.

"Yes dear Archivist?"

"Why are you here?"

"Ah." A misplaced chuckle, alltogether fake and a hungry grin. "I've heard you've dealt with Not-Sasha! Congratulations! Do you want the real one back now?"

"What?"

Tim had recovered fast and somehow had already taken up the axe again. He looked more than prepared to chop Michaels head off with it.

"Oh hello! I forgot you were here, too. How did you like my hallways?"

"Fuck you! What are you talking about?!"

Michael shrugged, or what could be perceived as a shrug. It was hard to tell when there seemed to be three sets of shoulders all in various places they shouldn't be.

"It is as I said. I took Sasha into my hallways so she could flee from the thing in the table. And now that Not-Sasha is gone I'm willing to trade her."

"Trade her for what?"

Jon had a bad feeling about this, but he let Tim lead the conversation. Better he ask the questions. Jon didn't want to accidently use compulsion and make Michael angry.

"Why for the Archivist of course! I'm terribly bored at the moment. No good prey out there. And I'd love to see how my hallways work against someone from the Eyes ilk."

"So it would be a game to you." Jon was careful to not word it as a question.

Michaels blinding smirk hit him square in the chest and left him heaving. "Yes, you could see it that way."

"Jon." Basira warned, inching toward him.

Melanies lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes never strayed from the Distortion, even when tears started to run down her face from the strain. She kept quiet, but it was clear that she would attack if she felt it to be necessary.

"And that exchange."

"Yes." Michael dared him to ask.

"What would it look like."

"No static! My you are truly making an effort! It goes like this. You come here and step into my door and I let Sasha out."

"Jon we can't trust him." Basira hissed.

"I'm an it, actually." Michael purred.

"Whatever."

"I know. I want to see her. Melanie, you know what Sasha looks like. We'll both verify."

"Hmmm, sounds like a deal. Come here."

Jon scowled at the crooked finger beckoning him to come closer. Michaels horrible 8 bit laugh echoed through the Archive again.

"Don't be shy. I won't stab you this time, I promise!"

"What." Tim sounded about as done as Jon felt.

He'd rather not have to explain himself though. He was glad Tim wasn't directing his ire at him at the moment. So he quickly crossed the distance and came to stand stiffly beside Michael, tensing when the entity curled three of its impossible long fingers around his elbow.

"Marvelous!"

Another door that had appeared in on of the shelves banged open and out of it stumbled a woman with clammy tanned skin, big round trendy glasses and warm brown wavy hair, her grey eyes open wide.

Tim stumbled forward to catch her, trembling about as much as her. "Sasha?"

He looked to Jon for confirmation, who had to fight back his own tears. "Yes. Yes."

"That's her." Melanie whispered her own affirmation.

Before the smile on Jons lips had time to fully form he was yanked back, the yellow door slamming shut behind him. It felt like being dragged into a whirlpool while high on LSD and if Michaels realm would have permitted it Jon would have lost what little food he had eaten that day right then and there.

As it was he had to endure the minutes or hours he had to get used to the shift in reality, unsure if he was standing, laying down or sitting. When his head eventually stopped spinning and his eyes and other sensory input systems agreed to work again he found himself standing at a deadend. The door and Michael were gone, but the air was still filled with joyous laughter.

"Welcome to my humble abode little Archivist! I hope you like getting lost~"

Jon frowned at his surroundings that seemed to tilt and wobble under his every step. He was sure Michael was being extra distorting with the surroundings it had thrown Jon into. Jon didn't want to give it the satisfaction of knowing how much that bothered him. Although he doubted he could hide his terror from it.

Time didn't matter in the Distortions halls. It all melted together, turning and twisting into a bizarre fever dream. Jon relaxed as much as was possible with the horrible migraine that had formed behind his eyes. This actually wasn't so bad. He would probably just wander around aimlessly until he would either die from hunger or thirst, Michael would grow bored and kill him or he actually found the exit.

Jon very much doubted the latter. He had no real grasp of his supposed powers and the Beholding only opted to drop in a fact or two about the colours that normal humans shouldn't be able to see.

When he didn't grow tired nor hungry or thirsty in what he presumed was quite a while a new fear formed beside the pounding in his head. What if he was stuck in here forever?

But even that terror dulled over what didn't quite account for time. The hallways got tamer. They were still decorated with garish colours and wallpaper, bits of furniture strewn about here and there. But they had stopped being all wobbly and impossible.

Well they were less impossible. Jon thought as he walked through a wardrobe only to emerge from a mirror into a room with six walls, three doors, a window and a painting.

On and on it went until he felt deep in his bones a rhythm to it all. There was a spiral pattern to the twisting turns of the rooms and hallways. Inverted and containing a lot of deadends, but it was there and all Jon needed to do was follow it.

Down and down he went, even when the path lead him upward or turned him upside down. His head started to feel blissfully empty for once. No worry, no greater goal. He could just exist here in this weird home and wander. He might be as lost as he had been in the real world, but at least here he wasn't hurting anyone.

Electrical lights flickered on and off before turning to torches casting pink shadows across the chessboard walls. He startled out of his haze when he heard the clacking of heels somewhere to his right, a thought thundering into his mind, shattering all other not thoughts that hadn't resided in there.

"Helen!"

"Jon?"

"Helen! I'm here. Stay where you are!"

Jon skidded around the corner and there she was, still wearing her business dress and jacket, chin length brown hair curling around her ears. She was sobbing before he could even get to her and soon he had an armful of crying real estate agent in his arms.

They held each other tight and just weeped for what felt like an eternity, but was still too short.

"I was so scared." Helen sobbed as she drew back just enough to fix her gaze on Jon. "I thought I walked out of the Institute, but instead I found myself back in these horrible hallways and I couldn't find a way out this time, but I just couldn't stop walking, you know? I needed to find some way out. And Jon, Jon! There's an end here. It's close I just know it! You believe me right? That's why you're here? You're also looking for the end?"

Jon rubbed up and down her arms to calm her. "Yes. Yes Helen. I'm so sorry. Had I known-"

"It's alright." She gave him a watery impression of a smile. "It'll be all alright soon. I hear it whispering. Come."

"Now that was quite the show." Michael suddenly stood between them and they sprung apart. It had its arms crossed and a deep frown carved into what could have been its face.

Jon couldn't exactly make out its eyes. And yet he was sure there was a spark of fear there.

"It was nice to play with you." Michael adressed Helen. "But I feel you overstayed your welcome."

A door appeared behind her, standing in the middle of the hallway, no walls around it.

"There is the exit. Shoo."

She looked at Michael with wide, glassy eyes. "No. No I can't. I need-"

And with a sudden, horrible clarity Jon knew what would happen if she didn't leave now. A door locked from the outside. The body of Michael Shelley destroyed. Helen lost.

"Helen. Please believe me when I say that this is better. Don't heed the call. It will only cost you."

Her flitted between Jon and Michael, hesitating. "Why?"

"Michael was human once, too." Jon whispered and understanding bloomed behind her eyes.

"Oh. But can I be sure?"

"I can." Jon assured her. "You can open that door. It's save."

She swallowed. "Okay. Okay. Are you coming with?"

She reached for him, but Jon shook his head. "No. I don't believe my game is quite finished yet."

He looked over to Michael to make sure. The Distortion looked back at him, frown lightened by a pensive look. It didn't feel the need to correct him.

"Okay." Helen said again, sounding like it was everything but. "You'll be fine, though?"

Jon gave her the best smile he could manage at the moment, which wasn't much. "I think so, yes."

"Good then. I'll... see you around. Just. Not here, I guess."

"Yes. Take care Helen."

"You too."

The door clicked softly shut behind her, taking with it the swift breeze of fresh air and gentle midday sunlight.

Jon sighed. "That was... something. Thank you for letting her go."

"Hmmm."

Jon felt a deep satisfaction at how uncomfortable Michael seemed to be at the moment.

"I guess I shouldn't continue to walk down, then?"

"You were walking straight."

"It's all the same here, though, isn't it?"

"Stop that." Michael frowned harder, drawing itself up, terror apparent in the way it shook, after images pulsing off it in waves.

"What?"

"Knowing me."

"Sorry."

"You could just walk back up again, you know." Michael muttered, friendly facade all but forgotten. A near death experience would do that to you. Jon could sympathize.

He nodded, indulgent. "I guess I could."

Michael heaved a sigh that sounded more like the blare of an airhorn. "I'll show you out."

Jon didn't deem it necessary to tell it that it could just manifest a door like it had done with Helen. He got that Michael probably needed a hot minute to digest what had just happened. And for once Jon was more than content with providing some company.

It was Michael who talked first, essentially giving Jon its statement. Jon saw the fierce anger burn behind those multicoloured eyes and was reminded of Tim and his fury at Jons betrayal.

"How much of Michael is there in you, then?" Jon carefully asked, voice so soft it was barely there in order to keep any sort of compulsion out of it.

"That's not the right question to ask Archivist. Because there is no answer to that, that would stay definite. How much of you is in those tapes you record? It's your voice in there. How much of you is actually you? There's no meaningful distinction."

"That doesn't sound right."

"That's because you're too deep inside your head." Michael laughed. It wasn't as grating as usual.

"Thank you for keeping Sasha safe, by the way." Jon whispered into the screaming silence that had enveloped the two as they meandered through the endless expanse of hallway stretching out in front of them.

"You are no fun."

"Pardon?"

Slim fingers crawled like worms across his shoulder. His head spun with a sudden dizzying motion, feeling oddly light. His skin tingled with confused nerves at the points of contact. Unconsciously he leaned into the touch loosing himself in the sensations. The Distortion was less scary now that he knew it. It was actually kind of sad and he might have formed a small grudge against Gertrude for it.

Michael huffed beside him, caught between grinning and frowning. Jon wondered which emotion the Spiral wanted to portray and which one actually belonged to what was left of Michael Shelley.

"That's what I mean. You're not afraid at all! You're enjoying yourself. That just won't do."

It nudged him forward and oh, there was a yellow door there. Jon stepped up to hit and hesitated, hand hovering over the handle.

"What is it now?" Michael grumbled behind him, pout evident in its voice.

"I... I'm not sure if... I'm not sure if it's alright for me to get out."

Michael blinked at him in surprise. Jon shouldn't have been able to see it, but the motion was reflected in front of him.

"I just don't know if it's a good thing that I'm out there. Something is going on with me and at least in here I'm not hurting anyone."

"You... don't want to get out? You like it here?" Shrill, disbelieving laughter filled every nook and cranny of their space, drilling into Jons head and hollowing out his skull. Michael was bent over in a spine breaking way, arms wrapped twice around it and shaking with manic chuckles when Jon turned to frown at it.

"Two people in a row wanting to stay." It giggled, rightning itself. "I really need to redecorate this place." It shook its head, smile sharp yet soft. "No Archivist I will not drag you around as deadweight. Not when you aren't even making an effort of being afraid."

Jon squeaked as he was lifted, knife hands nicking the skin on his cheek and temple. With a heavy thump Michael kicked the door to the Archives open, startling Tim awake, who had been slumped over the desk, facing the door.

"We're baaack!" Michael crooned. "I'll leave you to decide if the Archivist should stay." He dumped Jon into Tims lap, who was barely awake enough to grab at Jon before he slid off.

"But Jon, when you next step into my door I will not let you back out again. See you around~"

Jon tried to identify the exact moment Michael had left the room. It was a futile attempt and not at all enough to distract from the fact that he was currently still inhabiting Tims lap.

"I'm sorry I'll-" Jon tried to stand up, but the arms around him tightened and he was squashed unceremonously against Tims body.

"Jon"

Oh no. What had he done now? He just got here why was Tim already so mad? Was he mad? Oh good lord he was crying. Jon awkwardly turned so he could sling unsteady arms around Tims neck, letting the man bury his head into his shoulder.

"Uhm hi?" He'd really rather go back to Michaels hallways now, please. This was already starting out to be a situation much more terrifying than wandering forever in a fever dream.

"You absolute bastard!"

"Sorry?"

Tim laughed and it was a strange sound. Too normal after who knew how long in Michaels domain.

"No you don't get to apologize. Not when you don't even know what you've done." Tim stood, Jon scrambling to get his feet under him so he wouldn't crash.

Standing on even, unmoving ground was like coming back on land after a year at sea. Tim shaking him did not help his coordination.

"You've been gone for over three months. Over three months, Jon! We had to blow up the circus without you. Elias was pissed! But Sasha managed to McGyver together a remote control for the C4 and it was amazing! Pressing that button was probably the best thing to happen in my life!"

"Wait slow down." Jon mumbled, trying to keep up with Tims flood of exposition while simultanously trying to get Tim to stop shaking him. He was going to be sick at this rate.

Tim didn't seem to hear him. "And then everything was over and Sasha was there, but you still weren't. And that bloody door stayed here all the while, mocking us. It wouldn't open. We tried everything minus blowing it up, figured you wouldn't have liked that. Tried to hunt down other Spiral locations, but no odd door would open to us."

Tim took a huge breath and stopped shaking Jon, his grip tightening when Jon tried to put some space between them.

"We didn't know what to do. And then about a week ago Helen came in to tell us about what happened in the hallways. She's fine by the way. Apologized for waiting so long before coming by. She was sad to see you still missing, left her contact details and wants you to call her when your feeling like the world makes sense again, whatever that means."

Jon knew exactly what it meant. He was sure it would take him a while to make sense of anything that wasn't strobe light effects, after images and nausea. He would have liked to elaborate on that and point out that he really should sit down oh my god everything was spinning.

"We figured if she was out you'd come back, too. And we didn't want you to stumble into an empty Archive so we took turns watching the door. Do you know how hard it was to keep Martin from hogging all the night shifts? The man hasn't slept more than a wink in months I tell you. He looks about as bad as you so if you don't let him hug you and fuss I will play the most embarrassing prank I can think of on you next April Fools day, you hear me?"

Tim shook him once and Jon had to cough and force the bile back down his throat before he could answer.

"Quite."

"Good."

There was another shaky exhale and a much more tentative hug. "You look like shit, come on you can crash at my place."

"I too have a flat, Tim." Jon felt the need to remind him, but let himself be led to the front doors and to Tims car, grateful to finally be allowed to sit again.

"You just came back. No way am I letting you out my sight and give you the opportunity to vanish again. Sasha and Martin would have my head."

Jon frowned down at his hands, flinching when the car sprung to life and grabbing for an empty take out bag, just in case. Tims behavior deeply confused him. The last time he had mother henned him like this was back in Research. Did Michael accidently drop him in a different dimension?

"We're there."

How did Tim get to the side of his door? When had they started to move? When had they gotten to Tims flat? Good lord time didn't make sense anymore.

Jon half stumbled out of the car and followed Tim into his apartment.

"Make yourself comfortable boss. I'll get you some tea, yeah? And food. Try not to fall asleep on me yet. And don't wander off."

Where would he even wander off to? Jon wanted to ask. He forgot about that as soon as his body hit the hard surface of the couch. At least the pillow was nice enough to cushion his fall. Letting out a pitiful groan he levelled himself up again to take his glasses off, rubbing at the spots where the plastic had dug into his skin.

He was glad that Tim seemed to have calmed down during the ride. Maybe doing something had helped. Tim had always been an action guy, needing an outlet for all the pent up energy.

It all felt so surreal. Here he was, out of the hallways, in Tims flat, with Tim being nice to him and the apocalypse over and done with. He would probably get an earful for missing out on that one later. Probably from Melanie. Maybe from Basira and Daisy.

Gods they were alright. He was gone for so long and they were all fine. Maybe a bit more traumatized, if Tims behavior was anything to go by, but alive. And in this economy that was probably the best outcome they could get.

"Sasha, how is she?" Jon asked as soon as Tim came back into the room.

A rainbow coloured mug and a bowl of instant noodle soup was placed on the coffee table in front of him before Tim answered.

"She's amazing. I mean she's doing well. She was in way better shape than you coming out of there. But I guess you didn't exactly go in at the heighth of your power. She said she was afraid for awhile, that Michael would keep her forever. But she was also curious how the hallways worked and she kinda got lost trying to figure them out? She chatted with Michael whenever it popped up to gloat. It kept her updated pretty well actually, which is kind of creepy. I think out of all of us she had it the easiest."

"That's... that's so good to hear." Jon breathed.

Tim chuckled. It sounded suspiciously wet. "Yeah. Come on sit up and eat your shitty soup."

Before Jon could move on his own an arm curled around his waist and hoisted him into a sitting position.

"I can move myself, Tim." Jon grumbled, leaning heavily into Tims side either way. Just for the contact, he told himself. He could totally sit upright if he wanted to.

"Of course boss."

Tim turned on the TV as Jon ate, the soothing chatter of news reporter talking about the weather filling the air. Jon was half dozing, unsure if he had eaten much at all when Tim moved him again.

"You want to clean up before going to bed?"

Jon took stock of his body, weighting his options. It was as if his muscles only now began to realize the amount of miles they had walked. His scars itched and pulled and the cut on his throat as well as the burn on his hand pounded against the confines of his mangled skin. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, a bit of vertigo still throbbing in the back of his skull, while his ears still echoed faintly with piercing, inhuman laughter.

"No?"

"Okay. Sit tight boss I'm gonna get you a blanket."

Sit tight... Where did Tim think he would go, if he wasn't even up for taking a shower?

"You got better, too." Jon said in lieu of a thank you when a heavy blanket got draped over him.

"Hm. Blowing up a building helped."

"Ah yes, arson. The best therapy of all."

Tim laughed at that. "You'd be surprised. But actually I did get a therapist at Sashas request. I blew up at her a few times in between and she didn't take it well. I wanted to be better for her."

"Good." Jon mumbled, half asleep. "That's good."

"Yeah. Sleep well."

"Hmhm."

He woke up in the middle of the night. Or was it day? It was dark, but the curtains were drawn so he couldn't be sure. It wasn't to a full body flinch like he was used to waking up with. Just a slow, disorientated blinking into wakefulness.

The flinching came later, followed by a yell when he made out a blurry shape sitting in the arm chair mere inches away from him.

"Good Lord, Tim! What are you doing?!"

"Making sure you're not getting kidnapped." Was the brightly given answer.

"That's creepy." Jon grumbled, rubbing his eyes and settling his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

"Well you're not the only one allowed to be spooky."

"M not spooky."

"Suuure. So Martin and Sasha will be by in a bit. Wanna tell me what all that about going back through Michaels door was about?"

Jon sighed. "He- it just threatened me."

"Really? Cause it kind of looked to me like it was kicking you out."

"I have it on good authority that I can be rather annoying, yes."

Tim crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at him. "Does that mean I and the others need to make sure you take the right doors from now on?"

"No?"

"That's not very reassuring, Jon."

"Why do you care all of a sudden?" It was said out of exhaustion and Jon immediately regretted it, seeing Tims face fall. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that."

"No." Tim took a shuddering breath, mussing up his hair with the hand that wasn't clutching at his own shirt. "No, that's fair. I've been an ass to you before... Fuck before you literally fed yourself to the Spiral in order to get Sasha back."

"You don't have to feel guilty about that."

"I do! But that's not just it. You've missed a lot. And I got better, but I'm still so angry most of the time. But when you were gone I was also fucking terrified. For Christs sake Jon we were friends once. And I just let you barter your life away like it was nothing. I was happy. When Sasha came back and you were gone I was even happy for a while."

Oh no he was crying again. They both were. He knew because Tim had gotten up to draw back the curtains before dropping onto the couch at Jons feet.

"I... it didn't last long. Call me selfish, but after a while all I wanted was for us to be complete again. You know the original four. It took me a bit to realize that I was mourning."

Tim barked out a broken laugh. "I've probably not slept about as much as Martin."

"You should then. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere at the moment."

"I can't. Every time I try I panic that you will be gone when I wake up."

Jon mulled that thought over in his head, an odd tingle flooding his body. "Lay down with me then?"

Tim stared at him for a moment, biting at his lip and barely stopping before drawing blood. "That... that sounds like an idea. Yeah. Let me draw the couch out first."

They could have just gone to bed, but Jon just about managed to drag himself to the armchair. And Tim hadn't offered so Jon wouldn't pry.

Tim collapsed on the couch and immediately reached out an arm and made grabby hands. Jon huffed out a small chuckle and obliged, trying not to seem too eager.

"We'll have to get up again when Sasha and Martin visit." Jon noted, snuggling into Tims chest with a sigh, whole body thrumming at the none violent contact.

"Sasha has a key." Tim muttered into his hair, spitting out some of the loose strands right after.

Jon shook his head. There seemed to be quite a lot he needed to be caught up on. And as they tangled their legs together Jon found that for once the future didn't look as threatening as it usually did.

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 10

Hello everyone! Chapter 10 is finally here and is a good 5k words. I hope you will enjoy. we finally get to know a bit more about Rowan and Lyria and yes, we get to meet her... have your rotten veggies at the ready.

Things are still a slow burn but our lovely are taking one step at a time... they have still too much to deal with. But we almost there. I promise.

Happy reading!

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A couple of days had elapsed and Aelin was on her way to the bookshop with a box in her hands and a smug grin. Once inside the she noticed it was empty. “Rowan?” She called but no reply came. Where the heck was he? “Rowan?” She shouted louder “The shop is open and there is no one around.” With a thus, she dumped the box on the desk and the backpack behind it and went looking for him and found him five minutes later in the back of the shop, deep in conversation with the delivery man. He noticed her arrival and turned “What?” He asked at her annoyed expression. “The shop is unmanned.” Aelin explained, pointing at it with her extended arm. “It was just for five minutes.” Was his excuse. She stormed away and went back to the front of the shop getting ready for another day. Quietly she walked around the shop and took great care in fixing some of the display that looked a bit sad, then she took note of what needed replenishing and restocked some of the most popular titles. They had a few busy days and hoped for a repeat because she was enjoying herself immensely.

“I am back.” Rowan had finally reappeared. “We have been quite busy yesterday, I was just replenishing some shelves.” With a big grin painted on his face he took her hand and dragged Aelin to her history display showing her that her book was now sold out thanks to her display. “I won the bet?” She jumped in excitement, clapping her hands in front of her. “You definitely did and I have to treat you to a massive lunch.” “Told you.” She folded her arms and he smiled back. “I admit my defeat.” Rowan’s hands went up in a yielding gesture. “Good, because I have a present for you.” She walked to the counter and grabbed the box for him while he joined her at her side with a curious expression painted on his face. “Open.” Aelin gave him the box. Rowan opened the box and froze when he noticed it contained a mobile phone. “I don’t understand.” He looked at her. “It’s for you.” Slowly he opened the box and took the mobile phone out “Aelin, this is an expensive gift. I would have bought one if it really meant a lot to you.” Aelin shook her head “No, this is a present from me.” Then searched his eyes “And there might be a little bit of a selfish reason in it.” His expression was puzzled. “The night of the storm, I woke up and I was terrified I wanted to call you and realised I couldn’t. Sometimes I am reading a book and I want to share my reactions with you in the moment and I can’t.” Rowan held the mobile in his hands not sure what to do with it, but Aelin went in his help. She began showing him all the buttons, then switched it on and set it up for him. “Enter you code.” Rowan looked at her, again as if she was speaking a secret language he did not know. “It’s a four digits code that you use to access the phone. You can also set up your fingerprint recognition, but we can do that later.” “When is your birthday?” He asked with curiosity. “September 15th.” “So, 1509 it is” Aelin laughed and entered the code for him. After that she spent half an hour going through all the functions of the basic apps and how to download more. Then she went to the contact list and added her phone humber. “This is my number. Now you can call me and text me whenever you want.” She turned to him and his smile had her toes curl. A moment later she was beside him and pulled him closer and instructed him to put his arms around her neck. Rowan complied and in addition placed a kiss on her temple and in that moment Aelin took a picture of them. That picture became Rowan’s home screen “Perfect,” she muttered, pleased by her job then she turned and gave the phone to him. “You are all set up. You will have to select a ringtone.” “I need to decide which song. Can I add any song I want?” Aelin nodded “Once you have chosen, let me know and I will do it for you.” Rowan played a bit with the piece of technology in his hands that still felt alien to him. “I also have another idea.” She said timidly “Facebook and Instagram,” and again Rowan’s face was one big puzzle and she thought there was something incredibly fascinating in the fact that he didn’t have a mobile until half an hour before and had no clue about the whole world of social media. He was a rare human being. “They are platforms where people share things. Facebook you share things about you and Instagram is for photos.” Rowan flinched. He was not keen on sharing his life on the internet. “But not for you. I have a feeling you would not like that. I was thinking about the bookshop.” She explained “We can create a Facebook page for the shop, on there you can share book recommendations, you can write reviews and talk about new books you get in. You can promote the shop. Instagram you can use it to share photos of the shop and also promote books.” She continued and saw interest dawn on his features “You can advertise your shop on the visit Outer Hebrides website, so if you have tourist browsing for things in Stornoway you will appear in the list.” Rowan was staring at her in amazement “I love the idea very much.” Aelin smiled and launched herself to his computer “Good, now go and deal withe the customers while I work my magic.” “As you wish…”

When Rowan came back from dealing with the customers he noticed that Aelin was very busy at work on his computer. “You know that I will need that soon?” “Paperwork can wait.” She replied not even lifting her head to look at him and Rowan used the moment to admire her a bit more. Everyday since they had started talking, she had surprised him. In every possible way. And now she had gone and transformed into his marketing agent “Why do you care so much?” He was curious. This was not her business but she seemed to have decided to help him in every possible way. “Because independent bookshops are something precious. You are the only one on the entire island. Or at least the only one this big.” Rowan smiled at her and her eyes seemed to turn even more blue. “Speaking of which… orders… You know you could have someone create a website for you and people could place orders online?” Rowan cringed a bit. He was so old fashioned it was pitiful “I don’t know…” his hand scratched the back of his neck. “Ro,” she said, coming away from behind the counter and stopping in front of him. He realised that he actually liked when she called him Ro. “Think about it. You could extend your business from Lewis all the way down to Barra. Other islanders could buy your books online and you’d post them. Of course the postage is at their expenses, but even large bookstore chains do that.” He could kiss her. She was brilliant and he could just kiss her. “I have a friend in London who can help you with the website. You can speak of the phone, he can send you ideas via email…” he noticed she stopped. “Please tell me you have an email.” Rowan rolled his eyes “I might not be evolved enough to have a mobile phone, but I do have an email address and I can use the internet and I buy things online. I am not that much of an underdeveloped oaf.” And he noticed that Aelin began laughing and her laughter was music to his ears. “Sure. Now stop talking. You got customers.” “Yes, ma’am.” and he flashed her a military salute. Once he was done he walked behind her and stared at what she was doing at the pc. “This is you Facebook page.’ And she showed him what to do. How to create posts and update pictures. “So, do I just… talk about books?” Aelin nodded and Rowan took a step closer to her. His chest was not hard against her back. He thought for a moment she would react badly but she surprised him when he felt her leaning into him. His right hand clenched and unclenched at his side resisting the urge to run his hand against her arm, to tuck her rebel strand of hair behind her ear. He restrained himself and just leaned his chin on her head and chuckled. “What? Making fun that I am shorter than you?” “No.” He chuckled again “Just loving that you are the perfect size to fit under my chin. Sooo comfy.” Aelin turned and slapped him gently on his shoulder “Stop mocking my less developed height. Not everyone can be a giant.” “Yes, Fireheart.” And he placed a kiss on the top of her head. “What did you call me?” “Fireheart, you know, like the Queen from Cursed Kingdom.” Aelin looked at him with an expression that he could not decipher. “You remind me a lot of her.” “Because I am hot like her?” Rowan did not reply “You have fire in you. Like her. You are both these amazing women, strong-willed and intelligent…” She was staring at him and he finally removed that lock of hair from her face and his hand lingered a bit longer on her cheek. How could he have fallen so badly for her in such a short time? His head bowed slightly, while his stare was fixed on her lips, imagining how she would taste. She looked up at him, they were so close he could feel her breath. He was about to close the last remnant of space, when someone came into the shop. The two of them jumped apart and Rowan cursed the bad timing. He wanted to kick out the customer and claim the kiss he was robbed of. He stared at her while helping the customer and could not believe that she was leaning into the kiss. She wanted it too. Did it mean she had made her choice? What about Elias? She was still seeing him and could not ignore the sting of thinking of her in the other man’s arms. He was jealous. That was crystal clear. While she was busy he went back to the computer and had a look at her project and he was impressed. She had posted some photos and wrote a lovely blurb about the shop. “What do you think?” She asked, sneaking under his arm so it then was around her shoulder. “I love it.” He said softly. I love you.

A few hours had passed and around lunchtime Aelin had begged Rowan to close and go to Maeve’s to claim her victory meal. Rowan yielded. It had started to slow down a bit so they could afford to close for lunch. “Come on greedy guts. Let’s go and feed you, before you take it out on me.” In response, she gave him a massive toothy grin and grabbed his hand.

By the time they arrived a Maeve’s they were much closer and Rowan had an arm around her shoulder and Aelin was snuggling against him. Her excuse was that she loved his smell and she was trying to cover her clothes in it. “Well, if that’s not a surprise. So I guess you two have finally finished to kill each other.” Said the woman walking them to a table in a corner. “Yeah, I decided that I can keep him alive a bit longer.” “Gee, thanks Fireheart, I am so honoured by your goodwill. I am thy humble servant.” Aelin smiled “Now, stop talking, Buzzard. It’s food time.” She grabbed the menu and began reading. “Buzzard?” Aelin lowered her menu and glared at him “Yeah, when you are mad you have this predatory expression. You look like a bird of prey.” He took the menu from her and hid it behind his back. “Give me my menu.” “The magic word…” “Buzzard…” she stared in his green eyes. “Fireheart…” he returned the menu to her. “I am starving.” And at that Rowan scoffed and Aelin pinched his arm. “What?’ He squealed at the gesture “You are always hungry.” “Now shush.” She told him placing a finger on his mouth. Rowan gave her a few minutes. She was hunched over the menu and her blonde hair had spilled freely in front of her. With his hands he pulled her hair away from her face “How can you read with this wild mane of hair covering your eyes?” Then he pulled all her hair on one side and started braiding it in a nice neat braid and aelin was impressed at his skills. “Hairband?” Aelin removed the hairband from her wrist and Rowan tied her braid. He had lost control. He was aware of that. But he could not stop touching her. He needed the contact with her. After a while Aelin finally made up her mind and placed her order and Rowan did the same, albeit a more normal quantity of food. Once Maeve brought the plates Aelin was ready to dig in as her stomach had started to growl in protest. They were chatting and eating happily when Rowan froze when the door of the cafe opened and noticed who had entered. Aelin recognised the woman as well and under the table Aelin grabbed his hand showing him support. She had noticed his reaction and she wanted him to know she was there for him. Aelin noticed that it was another one of Maeve’s colleagues who served the brunette and not Maeve herself. She had a suspicion that was his aunt’s way to express her displeasure at the woman without being overtly rude. “Rowan.” Said the woman walking toward them and sitting down at the empty chair at their table. Aelin wanted to bite her head off and kick her away for thinking she had the right to sit down with them. In challenge she brought the hand that was on Rowan’s on the table, right in front of the woman’s eyes. It was petty but she did not care. “Lyria…” he finally managed to say something. Lyria looked at Rowan for a second but then her gaze shifted to Aelin and in particular on the had she was holding. His hand. “So, who is your friend, Rowan? Aren’t you going to introduce me to her?” She leaned back on the chair almost in challenge. “I am his girlfriend.” And Aelin put an arm around Rowan’s shoulder and kissed his cheek to prove her point. Rowan in the meantime was stone-faced and silent and she knew she had to fight the woman alone. Well, bring it on. She squeezed his hand almost in apology and her heart ached at his expression. One moment they were having fun, a moment later he looked like a broken man. “What do you want?” He finally managed a sentence but his tone dripped hate. “So you did manage to forget me in the end.” She whispered, but luckily for them the place was quiet “Although I think your tastes have declined a bit.” Aelin was about to punch her. Who was this woman? How could she judge someone she had never met? “I thought you liked women with… more meat.” Lyria grabbed a couple of fries from Aelin’s plate in plain challenge and gave her a smirk that brought rage through her. “I am glad I finally found a real man.” She continued, not caring about the pain she was inflicting on Rowan “One who does not spend his time reading fairytales.” Eventually Lyria stood and went to collect her order, say goodbye to Rowan and leaned toward Aelin “Bye stick.” Aelin jumped up, ready to inflict a beating, but Rowan grabbed her hand. “Leave her.” His tone was strained and that’s all she needed to sit back down and swallow her pride. “She just called me a stick.” Aelin growled “I have curves and boobs.” She sighed and crossed her arms at her chest “What a bitch.” She grabbed one of her fries and dipped it in ketchup “And how dares she touch my food?” Rowan chuckled and finally looked at her. And what she saw in his eyes hurt her. He stood “I just… I need to get out.” He was about to leave but Aelin stopped him ‘I am coming with you.” Rowan shook his head “I need a bit of time alone. Please.” His green eyes were sad again and she just wanted to go to An Lanntair and slap the woman. How dared she treat him like that?” “Okay.” She touched his face and leaned in the touch and Aelin thought it was progress. At least he was not pushing her away. “I’ll call you later.” He kissed her cheek “I am sorry…” “Go. I’ll be fine.” Rowan nodded and left.

Aelin finished her lunch, paid Maeve and left the cafe with renewed purpose. She marched to An Lanntair. She entered the venue and walked to Lyria trying to fight the urge to punch the woman. “Out.” She ordered. Lyria looked at her confused. “Follow me. Outside. Now.” Her voice was a command. Once the two women were outside Aelin finally let go of her anger. “How dare you?” Her voice was full of rage “How dare you treat him like that? Do you have a heart? That man loved you. You were engaged to him. How can you be so mean?” “You are definitely not his type.” Lyria said with a bored expression. Aelin growled “What I am does not matter. What matter is how you treated him and I cannot stand that.” Lyria laughed “Gods, you are in love with him. You just fell for the most boring man alive.” Aelin’s hand clenched “he is not boring. He is a very interesting person, and he is funny.” Lyria’s mocking laughter reverberated in the street “Funny? Rowan funny?” “Maybe he was not funny because of you. Maybe you are the boring one.” Aelin spread her arms and challenged her “Maybe you are the one who is not his type. He likes them with a brain, by the way.” And this time she noticed a reaction in Lyria. “Well, if you love him so much he is all yours. I haven’t had any need of him in a long time.” Aelin was second away from inflicting some form of physical pain on the woman, but then she noticed Lyria’s expression change and a veil of softness appeared in the lines of her face “He was a good man before his injury, and I believe he still is. But after his injury he had to stop competing and something broke in him.” She looked at Aelin “I still loved him deeply at the time. The shop became his new dream. I followed and supported him for a while. He proposed and I said yes, the realised that I was in love with an old version of Rowan and I just left him.” Lyria sat on the bench in front of the community centre “He is a good man. He is sweet and caring. He is perfect for someone.” She finally confessed and Aelin could note a spark of the love she once had for him “But not for me. He became this man obsessed with family and after he proposed he started talking about the future. Our future. He wants the whole romantic deal. I didn’t and I still don’t care for all of it. He deserves to be with someone who can give him that.” Her brown eyes now bore into Aelin’s “And if you can’t give him that, don’t even start this relationship. I hurt him enough. He does not need more pain.” And with that she left and Aelin was stunned at the woman’s words. She felt like crying. She had to talk to Rowan but she had no idea where he went. A text could get her that answer but she doubted he would answer. He clearly needed time alone. So her steps took her down to the marina, she watched the morning ferry dock and people disembark, then with new resolution walked back to the bookshop and opened again without him. The afternoon felt wrong. Not having Rowan in the shop left her with a sense of emptiness. Later in the evening, Aelin was about to switch off the pc and close for the day when she noticed his screensaver. Recognition dawned on her. It was a picture of Butt of Lewis and, if her mind was not playing tricks, she had heard him once mention the fact that he loved that place. She had her answer. Quickly she closed up the shop, locked the door behind her and swiftly ran home. A gut feeling told her that Rowan was at the lighthouse.

It was half an hour later when she arrived at her destination, and when she spotted his car she knew she had been correct. But now doubt settled in her. He had clearly come to this place to stay alone and think and she did not want to intrude. But she could not remove from her mind the hurt expression she saw on him at the cafe. She had to do something. Try at least. And if he’d end shouting at her… well. She’d take that. She got off the car and slowly walked to him. His back to her he was sitting at the edge of the cliff and he was staring at the sea crashing against the cliffs. She was behind him when she heard his voice “I am okay.” He said gruffly. Aelin’s chest tightened. That was not the voice of a person who was okay. Quietly she sat beside him in silence. And for a while they sat side by side staring at the sea. He would talk when he was ready. She was not going to push him. “So, I opened the shop all by myself for the afternoon.” His head whipped to her side and she could spot a weak hint of a smile. “And we had a successful day. I placed a few orders for you and I think I got Miss McKinnon obsessed on a couple of series.” Rowan did not say anything, he just grabbed her hand and pulled her to him “Come here.” A moment later, Aelin was sitting between his legs, his arms wrapped around her and his chin on her shoulder. “I am sorry.” He whispered “It’s just…” Her hands were on his on her abdomen “Shh… no, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself.” His arms were tighter around her and she leaned into his chest. “I had a chat with the bitch.” She felt him stiffen at her admission “I gave her a piece of my mind.” “I have no doubt about it.” “Ro, what happened to you? She said you changed after the injury.” Rowan sighed behind her. For a moment she thought he was not going to answer. That was a far too personal question but she needed to know more in order to understand this wonderful complicated man. “I was good. I loved swimming.” He told her “There had been talks as well for me to compete in the qualifiers for the Olympics. I was living the dream. I was still in Glasgow and had to balance uni and a professional sport but everything was perfect.” The pain in his voice was now clear and deep “Then I got back here and I did manage to continue to train. Lyria became my girlfriend and she loved the spotlight.” He sighed again “What I told you the other day was not the complete story.” She squeezed his hand, she hadn’t told him her whole story either “I kept competing for a while and I did manage to get into the qualifiers for the Olympics. Then one day my life just crashed and all went to hell. During training in the gym I was doing weights. An idiot bumped into me. I dropped the weights suddenly and ripped muscles and tendons. I needed surgery and in a matter of days my dream of the Olympics was gone. Recovery took a very long time.” Aelin gasped “that bad?” Rowan nodded “Butterfly stroke was my specialty. It’s a complicated one and after surgery it became impossible to do it again.” “I tried it once. I looked like a demented whale. It was embarrassing.” And finally she heard Rowan chuckle. “I took it badly and for a while I was… cathartic. But Lyria still was beside me. Then the idea for the bookshop came. I had always loved books and I thought that was the way for me to follow a new dream. And you know the rest.” Aelin twined her fingers in his “It’s a nice dream.” “It is.” “I think Lyria always resented me for my injury. I was famous in town and she loved being stopped and having other girl jealous at her for being with me.” “So I assume her current boyfriend is a Hollywood star.” Rowan squeezed the hand back. “I doubt it, but definitely someone with money and a big job. She… likes to be spoiled, and me being a professional swimmer paid a bit more than being a lousy bookshop owner.” “You are not lousy.” Her head turned and searched for his eyes, to tell him how much she believed him. “She sounds very shallow.” Rowan sighed again and Aelin felt a pang of guilt for making him talk about a part of his past life that clearly still did hurt “She wasn’t always like that. She changed a while ago. Her company of friends had changed and they became a sort of bad influence.” The wind had started to pick up a bit but Aelin had no intention of going back home and she decided it was time to tell Rowan her complete story. Her full reasons for moving in the middle of nowhere. He had opened up to her, she owed him at least that. “My story is not complete either. I told you about my failed marriage, but there is another reason while I escaped.” Rowan kissed the top of her head “You don’t have to.” “Yes, I do. You told me yours and I need to tell you mine. I want us to be honest to each other.” He gave her a squeeze in response. “I told you I was a doctor. I was working in St. Mary’s Hospital which is one of the major trauma centres in London. I slaved to be able to work there. They had a limited numbers for interns and I did manage to get in. Once I was officially a doctor I started to slave to make my way up the ranks I kept working like a madwoman and did all I could to become one of the best. Then a few months ago our head of department announced he was going to retire. And I knew I was going to fight to get that job. I wanted to be the head of the cardio thoracic department. It was my dream, my goal. At the interview I thought I had the job. Two days later I get a phone call telling me that unfortunately the position had been given to another candidate.” Aelin breathed out to calm the rage. “I would have accepted it if they had chosen a candidate better than me. But they didn’t” “Let me guess. Daddy’s little boy or girl got it.” Aelin nodded “The son got it. This idiot who barely made it through med school got it because his dad pushed for it.” Aelin stood and began pacing feeling the need of release all the anger that surged in her every time she talked about that “I was in the middle on the divorce with Chaol. This was the last nail in the coffin. I kept going back to work but I hated it. So much.” With a swift movement Rowan stood and stopped her, placing his hands on her shoulders making sure she was facing him. “Then one day I saw a picture of a Scottish island and I decided that I was out of there. I took a sabbatical. Two week later I was on a plane to Glasgow. A week later I was here.” And the tears came back in full force. Rowan’s arms went around her and she sagged against him and wept until she was spent. “I am glad you came.” That was as much as Rowan could manage to tell her that he was madly in love with her. Baby steps, he kept telling himself. They clearly were far too hung-up on whatever happened before and they both needed time to heal, but he felt like they were finally getting there. Having Aelin in his arms was wonderful enough. He was happy to take anything that she was willing to give him just now. Even if it was just embraces, caressed or holding hands. He would wait for her. “Ro, when I said girlfriend before…” “I know, it’s fine.” And he squeezed her tighter then kissed her head. “I have an idea that will cheer you up hopefully.” She looked up at him and gave him a big smile “I am all ears.” “Tomorrow is Sunday and you know everything is closed on the islands and so is my shop. So, how about an adventure?” Her arms were around his neck in an instant “Yes!” “Let’s go back in the car, it’s getting cold and I’ll tell you my plan.” Aelin ran and Rowan laughed. And a few minutes later they were on their way back. “So, we are leaving the islands tomorrow. We are taking the ferry back to Ullapool. There are a couple of amazing spot that I want to show you. We need to take the ferry at 8am which means check in will be from 6am. Will you manage?” “Are you kidding me? I’ll be up and ready whenever you need me to.” Rowan’s hand went on hers and smiled her back “Good.” Once back in town Rowan drove Aelin home, feeling overprotective and all. She got off the car and he followed her in front of the house. “I’ll come and pick you up at six, is it okay?” “Perfect.” “Wear something comfortable but also layers and a windproof jacket. The forecast for tomorrow is really good, but it’s Scotland.” Aelin nodded. He brushed his hand gently against hers “I’ll se you tomorrow.” Aelin kissed his cheek “Tomorrow then.”

Once she was in the house she squealed in delight and texted Lysandra with an update. She was giddy. And finally happy.