#i would like the fucking bullshit nonsense to leave this corner of knowledge well the fuck alone

[niteshade925]

You know I didn't think the concept of "gatekeeping" would ever come from me but here it is:

On the one hand I hate how many sources (esp ancient sources) on chinese history and culture have never been translated, but on the other hand in light of chatgpt (please don't tell me what good it can do; humans can and will find a way to use it for nefarious purposes, and I can already see it being used for misinformation or just straight up lies), I'm actually kind of glad how many of those sources have never been translated, since current ai like chatgpt is pretty much only english-oriented. Sometimes the language barrier isn't so bad tbh, it does help to keep out some of the bullshit.

[beautyiswithinchaos]

A Helping Hand pt. 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

*** disclaimer: all new work is here @chaos-is-beautifvl ***

word count: approx. 1.2K

It had been a few days since your meeting with Langdon. The only times you ever saw him were during the one meal (if you could even call it that) a day.

You were cleaning the floor with another grey, Mallory. She was a quiet girl, a little odd, but any company was nice company. As you cleaned, you couldn't help but think, Why does her bun look like a di-

Before you could finish your thought, the sound of Venable’s cane came your way. You didn’t look up, only continuing to clean as she continued her walk over towards the two of you.

A deep sigh left her mouth once she came to a stop. When you didn’t acknowledge her, she stomped her cane down on the floor, making you jump.

You raised your gaze to meet hers. She had a displeased look on her face. “Do you not have any respect?”

Her voice came through sharp and unfriendly as she stared down at you like you were beneath her. Truthfully, you were beneath her as you were a grey, but that didn’t mean she had to be so rude.

“N-no, ma’am.” Her stare hardened at you and you quickly fixed your mistake, “I mean, yes ma’am, I have respect.”

“It must be lacking for you to have not answered me when I first approached.” You stared up at her in confusion.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Venable. You didn’t say anything so I figured-“

“Save it. You’d think with the hospitality we're offering you here, you would be a little more appreciative.” Her tone was harsh and accusing.

“I’m sorry if I came across that way, ma’am. I am truly appreciative of being here.” You weren’t sure why you were apologizing to her, since you hadn’t done anything wrong. But you knew it was better to play along.

Venable seemed content with your reply as she gave you a once over, scrunching her face in distaste. She acted as if you were trash.

“Langdon wants you in his office.” You froze, unsure of what this meant. Was he finally going to tell you what he had meant? Or was he going to send you away to either be executed or worse, sent outside?

Venable sighed heavily at seeing you not move. An evil thought came to her mind. She lifted her cane and pressed it down on your hand harshly.

A cry of pain left your mouth as you jerked your hand back. You looked up to Venable to see a hint of a smirk on her face. She enjoyed that. That sick fu-

“Langdon is expecting you. Now go and don’t make me have to tell you twice.”

Without another word, you quickly stood up. As you turned to leave, you saw Venable’s cane poking out. You swiftly avoided it and pretended you didn’t see the smile on her face.

Geez, you thought as you made your way to his office, did someone shove her cane up her ass one day?

[[MORE]]

Walking through the ominous, seemingly never-ending hallways, you clutched onto your hand. There was a bruise already sprouting and you hoped it wouldn’t cause you more pain than it was now.

When you reached the door of Langdon's office, you hesitated before knocking. Taking a deep breath of courage, you raised your uninjured hand and rapped it against the oak door.

“Come in.”

You opened the door and made your way into the room. The fireplace was lit, and the warmth was as inviting as it was before.

You ignored it and turned to see Langdon staring at you, blue eyes watching your every movement. Clearing your throat, you averted your gaze, “Is there a reason you needed me, sir?”

“Yes.” His voice was smooth like warm honey. “Sit down.”

You sat down in the chair across from him much like before, but this time you took in your surroundings. To your left was a private bathroom, to the right was a black closet. There was a bed on the right as well, with velvet red silk sheets and black bedding.

“Do you believe in magic?” His question was simple, but you weren’t sure how to answer and raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He twisted one of the rings on his hands around his finger, “Do you believe in power—divine abilities? In the ability to do things no mere mortal should?”

“I'm not sure. I’m sure it could exist, but I’ve never had any experience with it, sir.”

His laugh shocked you. It was light and airy like someone would do if told a funny joke. The only difference was you hadn't told him a joke.

You looked at him in confusion, “What’s so funny?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

He had stopped laughing by then, and the two of you stared at each other. After a few seconds, you looked away, not wanting to get lost in those deep blue eyes of his.

“You know,” you saw him get out of his chair from the corner of your eye. “I find it very interesting that you say you’ve never experienced it.”

Does he find everything interesting? You thought, watching his movements as he advanced toward you.

“Well, I haven’t.” And you hadn’t, at least not to your knowledge.

“You and I are more alike than you think.” You raised an eyebrow at this. As far as you were concerned, the two of you were nothing alike.

“How so?”

He smiled at your question, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes. I would. Now could you please explain?”

He tapped his fingers on the desk, the rings on them catching the light. “Did you enjoy hurting that girl? Did it bring you,” he tilted his head, “satisfaction.”

“What is wrong with you?” You said, standing up. There’s something wrong with everyone in the damn bunker.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, but I can’t speak for everyone else.” He stepped, and you stepped back.

You scoffed, shaking your head, “Like hell there isn’t. You’re crazy if you think I’m going to sit here and listen to your nonsense!”

And with that, you turned to leave, fed up with the bullshit spewing from his mouth.

Before you could, however, he grabbed your hand, yanking you back to him. You cried out in pain as he had grabbed your injured hand.

“Let me go.”

He tilted his head at you, a foe look of sympathy on his face, “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“Yes, you did. Now let me go.”

He seemed to mull over the thought before turning you, “No, I don’t think I will. Now sit down and listen before I have to do something you won’t like.”

Begrudgingly, you sat down in the chair, massaging your sore hand. The main thought in your mind was: What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

—

a/n: should i continue this? 👀 if sooooo, i’ll happily do it

i love how i’m writing more series when i already have two on my main... 🤦🏾‍♀️

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #21- Situations in Which it is Appropriate to Stab Your Roommate

You know what’s generally considered bad for your health?

Getting fingers stuck into your brain meat.

Tailgate reveals himself to be immune to Tyrest’s “fall down on the floor” signal, because his hearing’s gone to complete shit due to Cybercrosis. Tailgate then turns off the “fall down on the floor” signal, allowing everyone back up. Tyrest dislikes this turn of events every much- so much so, in fact, he’s turned into a Nazgûl out of sheer rage.

Rodimus, feeling a bit bolstered by the fact that he’s gotten his hands on one of the massive guns the Legislators dropped, tries to talk a big game at Tyrest, before being reminded that a lot of their party is still at risk of dying, by way of their souls cheese-wizzing out of their heads.

Tyrest, now using Tailgate as a hostage, tells everyone to back off so he can go hang out with the Guiding Hand, otherwise he’s gonna poke holes in Cyclonus’ morality pet. Tailgate screams for Rodimus to fire, finally revealing that he’s been dying this whole time. Rodimus has a weird moment where the plot overrides his knowledge of his situation as a character, as he claims shooting them both is unnecessary, as it looks like someone’s already working on it.

Not sure how he saw the gun and not the man it was being held by. And Minimus has some fucking explaining to do.

Outside, Star Saber is yelling about everyone being unworthy of God’s grace, save for himself, because Real Bastard Hours are 24-fucking-7 with him around. Cyclonus decides that he’s going to deal with the stress of not being able to find his dying roommate through violence, and agrees to a religiously-inclined sword fight.

Star Saber has a good start, sucker-punching Cyclonus in the chin, holier-than-thou as he goes. Cyclonus turns the tables however, when he uses his remaining helmet horn to gouge one of Star Saber’s eyes out, revealing his fashion statement to be a deadly weapon in its own right.

Then we get a taste of Cyclonus’ personal brand of faith.

That’s a mighty high opinion of Tailgate you got there, pal. Quite the jump from “I think you’re pathetic.”

Unfortunately, having this little character moment gives Star Saber enough time to warp the hell away from Cyclonus’ Nazgûlian wrath.

Back with Zombie Bullshit Part 3, we get some friggin’ answers.

Minimus looks super tiny here, but remember that he’s still at least ten feet tall. This is not a man you can invite inside your house for a tea party.

After Minimus’ head got crushed, he had to Alien chest-burst his tiniest self out, which allowed him to grab that gun that’s as big as he is and shoot Tyrest in half. Rodimus has to be reminded again that people are still dying, including Brainstorm, which is weird, because he made it seem like he was forged a few issues back. Perceptor runs off to try and parse the Killswitch, and Pharma offers to help, striking a weirdly sultry pose as he does. Everyone ignores him, because that’s just what happens when you become evil and cut your old coworker in half hotdog-style- you get ignored.

Off in the corner, Swerve is talking to Tailgate about the fact that he didn’t tell anyone he was dying, then makes a joke about his impending demise, because Swerve has a lot of trouble handling serious situations. No one has helped him pop his nose back into place, either. This entire team is just falling apart.

Skids stares blankly at Ratchet and First Aid as they check to make sure all the cold-constructed ‘bots are still dying- they are- then remembers that he’s supposed to be watching Pharma.

Prowl only hires the best, clearly.

Skids runs for the portal, with First Aid right on his tail because there’s a gotdang score to settle, and also Rung for some reason. They find Pharma chilling in the tunnel, completely unable to get through to the other side, not because he’s guilty, but because there’s a forcefield in place.

Of course, because Tyrest was an engineer, and you can always find a running theme with everyone’s work, Rung theorizes that the forcefield is working with Aequitas rules, and actually can sense guilt- not of the legal sense, but of the personal variety.

Which sort of implies some unfortunate things about the Aequitas trials as a whole.

Skids starts sinking through, whereas Rung is hitting a wall. Rung, the hell you got to feel guilty about? What sort of horrors have you inflicted upon the world, you skinny creamsicle of a man?

Skids, people are dying. Can your personal nirvana not wait until after this galactic-scale crisis is resolved?

While Skids fucks off into the portal, First Aid’s taking care of Pharma, as Rung watches and has a Nam flashback to issue #6 in the distance.

Sometimes I wonder if First Aid is somehow aware of how Eugenesis went for him, and that’s why he’s so aggressive all the time in MTMTE.

With his revenge exacted, First Aid finally has that breakdown that’s been a long time coming.

You know what we haven’t had in a while? Gratuitous religious imagery.

“They call it the Eugenesis Code. Has something to do with intellectual property, I dunno.”

So this move they’re about to pull might kill Rodimus, and is for-sure going to annihilate the half of the Matrix they have. Bummer. Perceptor goes to finish setting up, leaving Rodimus and Minimus alone to discuss that thing Getaway brought up about Ultra Magnus luring the Lost Light to Luna 1.

Over on the floor, Tyrest isn’t dead, because of course he isn’t, and enacts the homophone game with Swerve and Tailgate as he relays an order to the Legislators.

Outside, all the Legislators stop whaling on Whirl with their swords and start parroting prime numbers at the sky.

Back with Rodimus and Minimus, it’s revealed that Magnus/Minimus/Miniminimus DID lure the Lost Light to the moon, but it was to have Tyrest yell at Rodimus for being a crappy captain. He didn’t know that Tyrest had gone completely bonkers.

The worst part is that Minimus doesn’t know the half of all the bullshit Rodimus has pulled since the end of the war.

No wonder Rodimus was so upset before the funeral- Overlord was partially his fault.

Prowl, prior to the Lost Light’s launch, had wormed his way into Rodimus’ brain, convincing him that an Autobot Phase Sixer was absolutely necessary for the safety of everyone. He, along with Drift, Brainstorm, the Duobots, and eventually Chromedome, assisted in what culminated in one hell of a bad day.

Rodimus would really prefer if this whole space-crucifixion didn’t kill him, because he’s feeling like he’s got a lot to make up for. Which, yeah. I’m guessing all of Tripodeca’s friends are going to be mighty sore about this whole thing once it comes to light.

And that’s a series wrap on Rodimus!

We get a brief intermission, as we find out where exactly Skids got to. It’s… somewhere. Not even he’s sure. He tries to ask for directions, but it would seem there’s a language barrier.

It really speaks volumes to Skids’ sense of self-confidence, that he’d see a giant ball of technicolor light and decide he’s gonna go try to talk to it.

Back at the current crisis at hand, Rodimus screams some more, the Matrix shatters alongside any hopes of finding the Knights of Cybertron, and Ratchet has himself a little smile, because that did the trick.

The reason we aren’t seeing Crankcase in this set of panels is because his head wound was also spewing oil, and he looks super nasty right now. Well, nastier than any of the Scavengers usually are on a day to day basis. They regularly drink corpse juice, they can’t NOT be nasty.

Unfortunately, we aren’t out of the woods yet, as that whole Legislator thing still needs to be taken care of. They pour into the room, throwing Swerve along with the steel door, as he shrieks in terror.

Back outside, Cyclonus and Whirl are having a little breather up on the edge of the smelting pool, since all the Legislators they were fighting went inside. Whirl, who is looking just awful, brings up that little deal he cooked up in issue #19, where Cyclonus would stop trying to murder him if they got through this fight. It’s important to remember that verbal contracts aren’t binding, and that Cyclonus didn’t agree to anything.

And that’s a series wrap on Whirl!

Actually, no, Cyclonus was just daydreaming. He agrees to put the past behind them, then shoots off to go find Tailgate.

Back in Legislator City, things are getting dicey, as Rung screams for Skids to come back, because if nothing else, he knows he can depend on Skids when the chips are down.

Skids, playing to Rung’s expectations, vaults over Pharma’s headless body out of the portal, and starts kicking ass. In the background, some creepy tentacle nonsense pulls Pharma through the portal. This, surely, will never come up again, nor will it be a major plot point down the road.

Because Tyrest decided he was going to play fast and loose with the law, Minimus has no idea what “one one” is meant to refer to. Tailgate decides that cram school did serve a purpose after all, and books it towards that massive computer off in the corner. After a bit of combing through the index, he finds what he’s looking for and makes a few choice edits to the Autobot Code. The Legislators freeze in place, and Tailgate reveals that he’s just completely voided a section of the law.

Just off panel, Minimus barely contains the urge to pop Tailgate’s cubic little head off of his neck. Not that he’d have much time to do it anyway.

Smash cut to the next day, where Tailgate’s laid out in a dark room, Cyclonus sitting by his side. Chromedome is also there for some reason. Rung is nowhere to be seen, despite him likely being a better fit for this situation than the guy whose husband died less than a week ago. Chromedome leaves, because this is a very intimate moment between these two guys who are roommates.

Tailgate, who has developed an honest-to-god “guy-who-is-going-to-die-by-the-end-of-the-movie” cough, tells Cyclonus that he made him something, and it’s waiting in their room for him. I’m going to guess it’s a macaroni art picture of the two of them fighting a dragon.

Tailgate has literal minutes to live, and Cyclonus just sits there, Nazgûling with grief, until Tailgate decides that NOW is the time to reveal his hand.

…Well, there’s the answer to the Babygate question.

Tailgate’s come to the conclusion that all his wanting to be important and a hero was a bit misguided, because as it turns out, it kind of sucks when it’s your final act in the world of the living. He really would have preferred to do just about anything else with his last days, even if it had been just chilling in his room with Cyclonus.

Tailgate asked Cyclonus off-panel to do him a solid and kill him before the Cybercrosis did, a plea which Cyclonus couldn’t agree to. Then he gets a call, and the tension of the scene is somewhat ruined by some goofy-ass cinematic parallels.

Where the hell is Tailgate, that Cyclonus has to book it down the hall to make it to the medibay? That isn’t clear, but what is is that Tailgate has the rottenest luck in the world; they figured out a cure for Cybercrosis, but his case is too advanced for treatment to be effective.

Cyclonus thinks that this is a major bummer, but thanks Ratchet for trying anyway. Whirl tries to talk to him, and he better watch out, before that little deal he made gets thrown out the friggin’ window.

Tailgate hits the final two minutes, as Cyclonus returns, sword in hand.

And that’s a series wrap on Tailgate!

…That was almost a sincere one, you know. Tailgate was supposed to die here, in an earlier draft of the story. He didn’t, because Roberts realized it would completely nerf Cyclonus’ character development. I can’t even begin to imagine who Cyclonus would have been if both the Rewind/Chromedome thing hadn’t gone over well, AND Tailgate got offed.

Later on, Ultra Magnus is back in action, Minimus Ambus having redonned the armor to reassume his position as S.I.C. of the Lost Light. He discusses the changes that have come about as a result of their time on Luna 1 with Rodimus, who’s pretty bummed about the whole situation. A quick rundown of all the nonsense that happened:

The mystical portal to the Guiding Hand no longer works

Hot Spot faded out and won’t come back on

Ambulon is dead

First Aid is very sad about Ambulon being dead

The ship is falling apart

The only person who seems to have had any sort of a positive experience is Brainstorm.

…James, did you put that baby inside that robot?

Anyway, so yeah. Luna 1 sucks butt. One star, would rate zero if I could, I don’t care if it has sweet rocket thrusters strapped to the back of it and is super mysterious, and might potentially be an idea pulled from the delightfully earnest Children of a Lesser Matrix.

Later on, Magnus makes his rounds, stopping by Cyclonus and Tailgate’s room to check the vibe. Turns out that stabbing sick people is considered medicine on Cybertron, at least when you’re using a Great Sword to do it.

Whirl had the awesome idea to slap Cyclonus’ weird spark energy into Tailgate’s frail body, so it could kickstart his heart and give him enough time to actually get treated for Cybercrosis.

Ultra Magnus is impressed, and perhaps a bit concerned with how easily Cyclonus was willing to risk dying so that Tailgate could potentially live. So much so, in fact, that Cyclonus gets an achivement- he’s finally collected enough good karma to be allowed to have friends!

Looking mighty fresh-faced there, Cyclonus. And is that a new horn? Someone’s got a plastic surgeon on speed-dial.

No, this is actually the gift that Tailgate made him, the one he was working on in Hoist’s workshop back in issue #15, just before the Overlord attack. The one we never got to actually see, probably because it would be very easy to tell what it was and who it was for if we had. The set up for our slowburn romance has to be just so, no shortcuts allowed.

[bitterlikesweets]

Love Bites Ch 9

This is the ninth chapter of a modern/vampire AU ereri fanfic. You can also read it on Ao3. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Next

It’s Eren who pulls out of the hug first. Tan fists release the stretched, wrinkled fabric of Levi’s black shirt, one tense finger at a time. Eren’s hands move away from Levi’s waist until his palms press against the floor, and he pushes himself away. Levi doesn’t exactly let go, not willingly. His pale hands are flat against Eren’s shoulders and they fall away when Eren pushes against them with his back, as if only gravity kept them there. Levi stares down at his pale hands when they come back to him in curled up fists, thin black brows pulling downward into a frown.

Green eyes can’t help but be glued to those pale hands, all too aware of how they were on him. All too aware of how those hands held him.

Eren thinks it’s incredible. Those hands are strong. They wield a knife expertly. They bring death back to the undead. They’re fierce, dangerous hands.

And yet somehow, they’re always so, so gentle with Eren when they need to be.

Something...tingles in the space between Eren's stomach and his chest. It’s warm and it tickles, and it trembles like an unsteady breath. It’s a firefly within him, fluttering and bringing warmth and light.

It’s too bad that his heart is dead; maybe its beating would have told him something. Maybe a throb would explain to Eren why he can’t tear his eyes away from Levi’s hands. Maybe it would explain why his cheeks now burn at the knowledge that his lips had lingered on those wrists. Why does it matter, when they had done it so many times before? Why, when Eren knows better—every touch, every action has been transactional. His lips on Levi’s wrists are there to take the blood that lies beneath the skin. Levi’s hands in his hair are to keep him in check, to stop him from taking too much (and once, to check for injuries). Everything, everything so far has been purposeful, not personal.

Right?

Green eyes stare at pale hands. A fanged mouth parts when those hands uncurl and spread wide, palm up, over Levi’s knees. The firefly in Eren’s chest grows brighter, hotter, and he wants to press his lips to the center of those palms. But it’s fine; it’s nothing. It’s vampire nonsense—the craving for blood. Nevermind the fact that biting those hands has yet to cross Eren’s mind. Nevermind the fact that he just wants his face to linger in that touch, just wants his head to rest in those hands. It’s purposeful, not personal. And the purpose is…. Something vampire related. Eren doesn’t know, but it’s okay because Eren’s not the vampire expert here. He gets strange urges because of his new status as a vampire, and this is no different.

Right?

It’s nothing, nothing at all.

But Eren really can’t shake the feeling that the hug has done something to him, somehow. Like it brought forth something he wasn’t ready to think about yet. His shoulders are tingling where Levi’s hands used to be. Has Levi’s touch always done that? It hasn’t, right?

Eren’s chest tingles. Levi has awoken the firefly.

"Eren."

Eren jolts, sitting up straighter, his own hands curling into fists over his knees. Levi stares at him, his lips pressed into a thin frown.

"Are you sure you still want to go through with this?"

Eren's mouth parts and then falls shut, his gaze dropping to the floor.

He wants to kill them. He wants revenge for his mother, for himself and his own fucking humanity. But he doesn't want to be like them. He wants to kill and not be a killer. No, that's not it. He just doesn't want to kill them as a vampire. He wants to kill them as if he were still a human. Even though that's stupid. Even though, realistically, it makes no difference except to make it harder on himself. It doesn't matter if he's using a knife or his fangs; he'll still be killing, just like they did.

But…

Eren still feels like it's different. He wants to believe that it’s not the same. That it’s not senseless, that there’s a reason.

Maybe he just wants to feel like he’s in the right. Like they’ll always be the monsters, not him. Even though they’re the same. Even though he’s actively taking steps to be just like them.

Maybe he’ll just have to live with the fact that it’s not exactly right. Maybe he’ll just have to accept that he’s a monster, in more ways than one. He just doesn’t want to be a monster like them. He wants to be his own breed of monster.

“...I’m sure.”

Levi sighs, and Eren squeezes his eyes shut.

“Alright,” Levi says. “And no vampire abilities?”

“No,” Eren replies, “don’t wanna use them.”

“Fuck’s sake, Eren,” Levi says. “You like suffering or some shit? First not wanting to drink any blood, now this bullshit. It’s like you’ve got a fucking death wish.”

For some reason, Levi’s words make Eren laugh. The sound bursts out from Eren’s lips with a suddenness that makes him cover his mouth in surprise.

“Sounds about right, actually,” Eren says between bouts of laughs that he’s struggling to stifle.

Levi lets out a long suffering sigh, and Eren opens his eyes to look at Levi again. The man is already looking at him, shaking his head slightly in disbelief, but there’s just the slightest of upward curves to his lips. The firefly in Eren’s chest warms again at the sight. His hands drop away from his mouth to fidget with the ends of his long brown hair.

“Levi?”

“What?”

“Thanks.”

Levi’s eyes narrow slightly, shaking his head again.

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“No, but I really do.” Eren says. “I… You’ve done a lot for me. You’re doing a lot for me. I mean, the blood, and the lessons, and now this.”

He gestures at the room with a wave of his hand.

“You really…” Eren’s cheeks grow warm and he averts his gaze. “I mean… I don’t know how to explain it except to say that you’re basically spoiling me. I haven’t done anything in return. If there’s anything I can do—”

“No,” Levi says immediately, and Eren blinks, looking curiously over at the man, but now Levi is the one looking away.

“No?”

“You don’t need to—” Levi pauses, his expression just briefly shifting to a conflicted frown before settling back into the usual mask of indifference. “I’m not doing this just for you to pay me back later.”

“Then why are you doing it?” Eren asks, leaning towards Levi.

Levi doesn’t lean away, but he’s still looking away from Eren, and his lips are pressed into a thin line. Eren just adjusts the way he’s sitting, crossing his legs and wrapping his hands around his ankles. The lights are still off in Levi’s house, but Eren can see him as clearly as when the sun is shining. At least, that’s what Eren thinks. He hasn’t actually seen the sun in a while, so it’s hard to compare.

In any case, Eren stares at Levi in the darkness. His pale skin seems to glow, contrasting with his gray eyes as they stubbornly stay focused on the wall, thin black eyebrows pulled downwards into a scowl. Black bangs cast a shadow over Levi’s forehead, and Eren is reminded of his blood-drunk ramblings from the week before. Levi seriously does look more like a vampire than Eren. More vampire-like than any vampires that Eren has met—granted, he only knows Hanji and Erwin.

But well, Levi is definitely human, and not just in the biological sense. He’s kind and certainly has a better moral compass than Eren does. He’s no monster—not like Eren. Eren still remembers how concerned the man was at just the possibility of his blood making Eren sick—

Eren gasps at the same time Levi finally turns to look at him again, a half-formed sentence already leaving the man’s lips.

“There’s a couple of reasons—” Levi begins.

“Hey Levi—” Eren blurts out at the same moment, but he quickly presses his lips shut.

Levi’s eyes widen for a moment, but a second later he scoffs and leans away from Eren, just slightly.

“Yeah?” Levi asks, and Eren quickly shakes his head.

“No, no, go ahead.”

“No,” Levi replies, “you talk. I wasn’t ready yet anyway.”

Eren blinks and tilts his head at Levi. What did he mean by that? Eren stays silent for a moment longer, green eyes focused on Levi in an attempt to get him to elaborate.

But Levi says nothing more, so Eren just sighs and starts again.

“I just remembered that we were doing this once a day thing to make sure I don’t get sick again.”

Levi raises an eyebrow at him.

“And?”

“And,” Eren says with a grin, “I haven’t been sick once this week.”

For a moment, Levi looks unimpressed, maybe even a little confused. Then, pale lips part just slightly, corners rising. When gray eyes narrow fondly, Eren’s breath stalls in his throat, his eyes glued to Levi’s tiny smile.

“Well,” Levi says quietly, “I guess I’m not bad for you after all.”

Eren’s face grows warm and he ducks his head, his hands clutching tightly at the fabric of his jeans.

“I-I, uh—” Eren clears his throat and lets out a brief laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Levi, seemingly oblivious to Eren trying his best not to lose his mind, gets to his feet with a yawn.

“That reminds me,” Levi says. “We need to work on our schedule.”

Eren raises his head reluctantly, hoping his face doesn’t look as red as it feels.

“Schedule?”

“If I’m going to be teaching you how to fight too, we need to be at my house more often.”

At the sound of this, Eren bites his lip, staying in his spot on the ground, even as Levi moves around the house and tidies up the mess they’ve made.

“...You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Be more specific.”

“I don’t know. Like… with everything.”

“That’s not more specific, brat.”

Eren sighs, running his fingers through his long brown hair.

“You don’t mind that I want to… you know…”

“Commit murder,” Levi says, turning back to face Eren with one of the wooden practice knives in his hand.

Eren winces and nods, and Levi sighs, tucking the last of his weapons back into his closet before turning back to face the sulking vampire.

“Do you think I’d be offering to help you if it bothered me?” Levi asks, kneeling beside Eren.

“Probably not, but you quit all that stuff, and I don’t want to be the one that drags you back into it.”

Levi’s hand finds its way onto the top of Eren’s head, and Eren jolts before relaxing into the touch. When pale fingers weave through the strands of his hair, Eren closes his eyes.

“Eren.”

“Yeah?”

“You worry too much.”

“Maybe I get it from you,” Eren grumbles, and he hears Levi scoff, the man shifting his fingers so that he’s digging his knuckles into Eren’s skull instead of gently combing his hair.

“Shut up, shitty brat.”

When Eren opens his eyes to glare at Levi, the man is still staring down at him, his eyes glowing with an almost teasing light.

“You worry too much,” Levi says again. “If I had a problem, I’d tell you. Got it?”

Eren scrutinizes Levi’s face for a moment, searching for any sign of hesitance or reluctance. When he finds none, he nods.

“Got it.”

Levi pulls his hand away.

“Good,” Levi replies before sighing and getting to his feet again. “It’s stupid to ask a killer if they’re against killing, by the way.”

“I mean, I guess,” Eren says. “But you’re… I don’t know. It’s different. You’ve been killing to protect other people, right? I’m…”

Eren is not killing to protect. He’s killing for revenge. Killing out of anger, out of spite. He’s going to kill to get some sort of satisfaction out of someone else’s death. It’s different than being a vampire hunter—that’s not for personal satisfaction or gain. It’s for others.

At least, Eren assumes so. Besides, Levi is retired now. Whether he killed for personal gain or to protect others, it's not something the man does anymore.

“We’ve got different opinions there, Eren,” Levi says.

His back is to Eren, but he can see the former hunter staring down at his hands, shoulders slumped. After a moment, Levi’s hands slowly curl into fists.

“A life’s a life, no matter why you take it,” Levi says.

“Even more reason for me to make sure you’re okay with teaching me then.”

Levi’s arms fall to his sides.

“Like I said, it’s stupid to ask a killer if they’re against killing.”

Levi’s voice lowers, grows quiet. Maybe it’s because Eren has only been getting small amounts of blood per day, but he has to strain to hear Levi, even though his senses should be heightened.

“Against it or not, it’s too late to change once you’ve done it.”

“Levi…?”

Levi shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair, his shoulders straightening and his face betraying nothing as he turns back to face Eren. Eren bites his lip, unsure if he should press the subject any farther. Probably not, but he’s concerned that Levi is bothered by it all but just wants to pretend that he isn’t. Levi would tell him if that was the case though, right?

Honestly, Eren’s not so sure.

“Back to our schedules,” Levi says, and Eren doesn’t protest the change in subject, though guilt plants itself into his stomach and swirls at the bottom of his gut. “We can probably test out doing every other day of the week for blood instead of every day.”

Eren nods, even though he liked seeing Levi every day of this week.

“We need to be here to practice fighting,” Levi continues. “The break room at the Kitchen doesn’t have enough space. Maybe I can ask one of my morning workers to shift to evening half the time…”

Eren drops his chin into his hand, not liking the idea of inconveniencing another person because of his personal grudges. Levi must see the displeasure on his face because he waves his hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it; one of my people has been a pain in the ass trying to find an excuse to switch shifts and meet you. She won’t be upset.”

Eren blinks, large green eyes staring up at Levi, who’s still standing over him.

“You talk about me with your other employees?”

Levi’s eyes widen, and he clears his throat and turns his head away.

“I—Well, Isabel does mostly. She always comes early so she can gossip with those other little shits—”

Eren’s hand comes to his mouth as he tries to stifle a laugh and Levi’s head snaps back to face Eren, an angry glare the likes of which Eren has never seen before warping the man’s handsome features.

...Somehow it just makes Eren want to laugh even more.

“You fucking brat,” Levi all but growls, and he grabs Eren by the back of the shirt like the big vampire is nothing more than a puppy being tugged around by the scruff of its neck. He yanks Eren up off the floor and onto his feet without so much as a grunt of exertion.

“Ah—Levi!”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Don’t be so embarrassed! I’m honestly pretty flattered—”

Levi tosses Eren towards the door. Eren stumbles and barely manages to stay on his feet.

“Out. Of. My. Fucking. House.”

“Okay, okay,” Eren says, trying to sound as guilty as possible, even though he can’t help the way a grin tugs at his lips. “I’m sorry.”

He ducks his head and stands in the doorway as Levi stands beside him with his arms crossed over his chest. Eren knows he's the taller one, but it almost feels like Levi is looming over him, looking down on the silly vampire who called him out on his gossip habits.

Eren has to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning too widely. When he pushes the front door open, he glances at Levi once more.

“If it makes you feel any better, I talk about you to my friends too.”

Eren flashes his fangs at Levi in the form of a shit-eating grin, and he manages to see a brief moment where thin black eyebrows pull down into a sharper scowl before he feels a foot against the small of his back. The kick almost feels more like a shove, and it sends Eren stumbling out into the night air, barely able to keep himself from falling onto the ground. He whirls around on unsteady legs to say more, but by the time he’s facing the house again, Levi slams the door in his face.

And Eren laughs.

His shoulders shake with the force of it, and he laughs and has to lean against the closed door for support just to stop himself from falling over. He’s not sure why he’s laughing, honestly. All he knows is that he’s so giddy that it’s getting hard to breathe. He’s laughing, wheezing, and unable to stand on his own feet. It’s loud, maybe even borderline hysterical at this point. His eyes squeeze shut and he feels little drops of water prickling at his tear ducts while his mind replays Levi’s sudden embarrassment and manhandling of Eren.

But for some reason, his mind goes back further than that. To the moments before, when Levi had his back to him. To when Levi was saying that he was fine with Eren’s plans even though he didn’t really look or sound fine. And Eren’s still laughing. He’s wondering how the fuck he’s still laughing even though he’s thinking about killing people. He’s wondering how his brain manages to shift so easily because when he thinks about revenge, he thinks about Levi, which makes him think about Levi’s hands on his shoulders and in his hair. And now his mind is swirl of thoughts about murder and the firefly in his chest and Levi being gentle but also kicking him with enough force that might have actually hurt a human being.

And Eren is still laughing. He’s not sure why he’s laughing at all.

He’s still leaning against Levi’s door a few minutes later, trying to catch his breath again. He’s sorting out his thoughts, pushing his worries and messy feelings to the back of his mind. He locks them away for now, focusing on angry, embarrassed Levi. Because it’s better, easier to think of Levi getting worked up over Eren finding out his gossip habits than it is to think of anything else. It’s certainly easier than trying to think of everything at once. When he does that, his thoughts become a jumble of thoughts where nothing makes sense. When nothing makes sense, he just begins to doubt, to regret, to spiral and wish that he was human again.

And there’s no point to wishing for that anymore. It’s impossible. He’s a vampire, a monster. That can’t be changed.

So he thinks about Levi getting pissed at him instead.

This is the angriest Levi’s ever been with him, and Eren drank his blood and puked into his plants and has been just a huge fucking mess of a vampire the whole time they’ve known each other. And yet, this is what sets Levi off. Getting caught talking about Eren to other people. It’s stupid and absurd.

But somehow it makes Eren happy. He’s happy that Levi got angry. Maybe he just wanted Levi to call him out on his bullshit, at least once, because maybe that means Levi doesn’t consider everything else Eren has done as bullshit. Maybe Levi means exactly what he’s been saying, and he really is going to support Eren through all of this.

...Maybe Eren’s just losing his mind. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“Sorry, Levi,” Eren says, his forehead resting against the door. Levi is inside, probably unable to hear a single word. “It’s been a long day.”

[divineluce]

An Impasse || Solomon & Luce

Timing: November 13th

Location: The Outskirts

Tagging: @shroomsbysolomon & @divineluce

Description: Solomon and Luce officially meet for the first time. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

For the third night in a row, Luce laced up her shoes and exited the Vural home. Her homecoming had been… rocky at best. A shitshow at worse. And, what with all of the bullshit she’d found out regarding Nadia, Remmy giving her shit for leaving, and the goddamn menagerie of animals in her room, sleeping was pretty much out of the question. Which left her with two options-- hit up Soul and risk running into frankly Frank again, or go for a run. It was a no-brainer. Jogging into the woods, she made her way through the familiar trails that wound their way behind Bea’s home. She’d run them so often that, even after spending a month out of town, she still remembered every curve and turn in the path. It was easy, it was simple, it was going through the motions. She could do that, right? And then, once she could do that, maybe things would get better. As she ran, Luce noticed a figure off the path, illuminated in the waning moonlight and she slowed to a stop. “You lost there?” She asked, squinting through the darkness.

Solomon had a bad habit of losing himself in whatever he was doing, hyper-focusing to the point that he’d forget the world around him until something demanded his attention. In this case, it was an unexpected voice, jarring him out of whatever reverie he’d fallen into and urging him to whip around, clasping his hands behind his back to hide their wooden appearance as he stammered and stalled. “Oh! No, I, uhh…” His struggle to find the right words seemed to lose importance as he took in the visage of the woman on the trail, and something inside of him got all twisted up. It took a few beats for him to be able to place the sudden rush of emotion, not knowing who she was or why he should suddenly feel… fear? But then it came to him, and all at once, that fear was intermingling with anger. “You,” he grumbled, standing up from his crouch and taking a step toward her. He’d seen what she had done in the forest… and the only reason she still stood was because he had also witnessed her pitiful attempt at making amends. It was enough to stay his hand, but the bitter tang of resentment never left his tongue. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, burning the woods like you did.” His typically soft voice was harsher now, still low in volume, but it carried a distinct edge. “I’m still trying to repair the landscape. What’s your problem?”

As the man stammered for a moment, Luce rested her hands on her hips, waiting for him to finish his sentence. It was a bit too dark for her to get a good look at him, but she could tell he wasn’t some lost hiker. For one, no one came hiking around here, not at this time of night. For another, if he wasn’t dressed like one. No backpack, no water bottles, nothing like that. But, then he rose and took a step towards her. Instinctively, Luce’s hands curled at her side, the flames that danced in her blood ready to be called at a moment’s notice. “What the fuck is your problem?” She shot back, startled. Burning the woods? For one thing, how did he know about that? For another, which time was he talking about? One of the many rainy nights when she’d hiked out into the middle of nowhere, to practice her flames? Or when she and Anita had run from the shitty moose creature and she’d lit the brush aflame to escape? Or was it the time she’d razed the ground around her and Adam in the wake of Bea’s death? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Luce lied smoothly.

“Ooohhh, yes you do,” Solomon snapped, his dark eyes narrowing. “I saw you… fleeing the scene, leaving the poor forest in such a state…” It made his heart ache as he recalled the pain he’d felt that night, the sorrow that rose from the ground as it mixed with ash and embers. He was so in tune with the familiar landscape, so very much a part of it, that any damage it suffered bled over to him. It’s why most things never escaped his knowledge, and why he’d had to bloody his hands over the centuries, stopping men from cutting deeper and spreading further. What he couldn’t mention was how his fear had held him back for the first time — seeing that the woman was controlling the fire and not merely setting it free had stopped him in his tracks. If he died, who knew what would happen to the woods? It was too risky, and the damage had been done, so he’d decided to let her go and tend to the charred earth. Letting out a shaky sigh, Solomon appeared to be trying to calm himself, eyes closing while he regained his composure. “But… I saw you trying to make amends, too, so… I suppose it’s a start.” Peering at her once again, the disguised Leshy lifted a finger to point it at her. “Got my eye on you, though…”

As the man glared daggers at her, Luce kept her gaze level. She didn’t give a shit who this guy thought he was, she’d make his night real fucking bad if he decided to try and pull something. But, when he started yelling at her about fleeing the scene, she blinked in confusion. Was he talking about when she’d blown up the Ring with Erin months ago? Or when she’d tried to blow up the shitty mime restaurant? Christ. She really needed to narrow down her arson attempts. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And, even if I did, you’re gonna have to narrow it down.” She said with a shake of her head. The man seemed to be… restraining himself? Like he wanted to move against her? Which would be a bad idea on his part for sure. “What the fuck are you talking about? Are you some kind of stalker? Because you picked the wrong girl for that.”

Stalker? Oh. Solomon drew another weary breath, shaking his head as he pushed his anger aside. “The specifics don’t matter, what does matter is your lack of care when it comes to this place.” He gestured vaguely at the trees that surrounded them, letting his gaze slide away from her for the quickest of moments. “Look, I’m just… all I’m asking is for you to please stop burning it down with your fire… hands.” Whatever you’d call that, he wasn’t sure. He’d never really encountered anything like it before, and he didn’t exactly want to make a habit of it, either. “Lot of things live around here, you know, myself included… and we’re not exactly keen on having our home scorched on the regular.” Truth be told, it was something that half the damn town seemed to need to hear, given their track record. It was exhausting work, trying to keep up with every new threat.

“Uh, it sure fucking does if you’ve been following me around like some kind of creep.” Luce said as she continued to stare at the stranger. As he waved around at the forest and then mentioned her firehands, her eyes narrowed. Had he seen her use her magic before? No, he couldn’t have. For one thing, she covered her bases pretty fucking well. And even if he had, why the fuck was he only just now stopping her. “My fire hands? I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about, dude.” She said, shaking her head as though he was speaking nonsense. “I don’t know what you think I’ve done or what you think you saw, but you’re mistaken.” She replied. She wasn’t sure what this guy’s deal was, but it was easier to deny this than to deal with the repercussions that came with someone finding out she was magically inclined.

“I’m not following you, I live here,” Solomon grumbled in return. “I see most things that happen, whether folks want me to or not.” Her continued rebuttals only made him growl in frustration, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You make fire. I don’t know how, but you do it in a way that… normal people cannot. Your denial does not change this fact.” He considered for a moment that perhaps she was like him—inclined to keep that aspect of herself secret. “And personally, I’ve nothing to gain from knowing that, I would just like to formally ask you to please stop setting fire to my forest. Take your flames someplace else.” Exasperation radiated off of him, but his gaze was steady. A hundred and fifty years ago, he’d have just slain her on the spot. But… he was trying to be a little kinder about it in this case, especially since she’d come back later to plant seeds. The gesture warranted recognition. 

He lived here? In the fucking woods? Because that was any less creepy than the fact he’d watched her here. Luce bristled a little as he continued to speak. He’d seen her conjure the flames. How? She’d had run-ins with people before, but she’d always been careful to make sure there was nothing that could ever tie her to the blazes she started. People could look for the ignition point, search for the match or the lighter that didn’t exist because she was the spark. And yet, this fucker seemed to know exactly what she could do. “Let’s say I can do what you say I can do.” She said before gesturing around to them. “Where else would I do shit? If I could make fire, I’m not exactly going to just light up the Common.” She said, though the corner of her mouth turned at the idea. That would be funny, if only for the irritation it would no doubt cause her mother. 

Solomon was, by every account, a very calm and level headed creature. That being said, there was one thing he had almost no patience for, and that was the petulance of a young firestarter.  His entire existence revolved around a singular purpose, and he could only bargain for so long with people like her. His anger flared at her casual, careless remark, dark eyes widening slightly in disbelief. “Anywhere else, girl. Have some respect for the natural world — you’d be dead without it.” He’d taken another step toward her by this point, and something in his body language had changed. He moved less like a man, and more like… well, it was hard to say in the dark of night. “Stop killing things and find a way to be useful with your talents, won’t you? You came back to plant seeds, so I know you must feel some amount of remorse. Hold on to that, remember that, and do not light another blaze in these woods ever again. Do you understand me?” He was being rather generous, he thought, but if she pushed him further still, he couldn’t see himself keeping his composure.

At the sound of the word “girl,” Luce’s eyes narrowed. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Folding her arms across her chest, she felt the heat of her body begin to grow and rise with her increasing anger. “Respect for the natural world? You think I don’t have respect for it?” She said with a growl. “Fire is just as natural as anything else here. What happens to a forest that’s overgrown with brush and shrubs? What happens to the trees when they get overcrowded and parasites begin to take over? Overgrowth saps the life right out of the soil just as much as my fire does.” She said before shoving her hand into the soil beneath their feet. Pulling up a handful of loamy soil, she let it sprinkle from her fingers back on the ground. “Ash feeds the forest, makes space for new things to grow. I planted those seeds because it was what should have happened. Death. Rebirth. Life. And death again.” She spat.

“Fire may be natural, but you are not,” Solomon snapped in return. “Forest fires at the hands of humans are anything but natural.” His relationship with humans had been… a bit tumultuous, over the years. While he found them to be an interesting sort, it was true that they had, time and time again, shown him that they cared not for the earth that had so lovingly lifted them from their evolutionary cradle and taught them how to walk. “It is not for you to decide when that cycle will happen, purely because you have no place else to play with your magic. Insolent… insolent, the lot of you!” His voice had raised in volume and boomed unnaturally around them, anger rushing to the forefront as he relived the countless times he’d seen the land ravaged by humans. All across the continent, as he moved from home to home, he’d encountered ones like her. Or at least, the picture of her that was piecing together in his mind’s eye. He’d slaughtered a whole village for poisoning the nearby river, and while that level of unhinged rage was rare for him, it was far from impossible. His glamour flickered, his focus waning as he became more irate with the woman standing before him. “Humans have been nothing but a blight on this world—you’re parasites, feeding off the land while you expand your rotten towns and cities, razing whole forests to the ground without care! That is not the life of someone who has respect for it.”

Unnatural. Yes, because she was unnatural. Who was he to say these things anyways? Obviously not human, but what was he? “You think I play with magic?” Luce said, temper flaring once more. Magic wasn’t a game, it wasn’t some toy to be played with, something casual to be used and forgotten. “Oh, you couldn’t be more wrong about that.” Magic lived in her, it breathed in her, it was a grounding tether of power that challenged her and demanded her to rise to that challenge. His voice rang through the woods, but Luce held her ground. This man-- no, not exactly man, obviously not. Whatever he was, he yelled at her and she resisted the urge to let her flames ignite. It would be so easy, so, so easy to let the blue flames lick the ground and spread. But. It would only be proving him right. Watching him, Luce caught the shimmer to his appearance, saw it shudder and caught a glimpse of what looked like… mushrooms? She couldn’t be sure, because the image disappeared almost as soon as she saw it. “If I’m a parasite, then what does that make you? If I’m so beneath you, what are you?” She asked, goading him on. What did he think he was, some kind of god?

Upset as he’d become, it didn’t matter to Solomon whether or not he’d accurately judged her entire character; he’d seen what he’d seen, and she seemed to think that setting his wood ablaze was a perfectly acceptable way to kill time, so he had no further words for her. His gaze was fixed steadily on her, eyes narrowed into slits as he stared her down furiously. It wasn’t until she called him out, questioning the authenticity of his appearance, that he faltered. Well, it wasn’t so much that she’d seen something—that was happening increasingly often, as of late—but it was her question that had him tripping over his own tongue. “I don’t—that doesn’t matter,” he growled. He didn’t rightly know, since he’d been forced to live alone as little more than a sapling and had never met another of his kind. “We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you…. and how you really ought to find a better hobby.”

Quirking her eyebrow, Luce heard the misstep in his voice, the falter in his words. “It doesn’t matter?” She repeated, incredulity mixing with venom in her voice. “Oh, so you can dish it but you can’t take it? You can go around, accusing me of being unnatural, calling me out for ‘playing with magic’ but when it gets turned back around, suddenly it doesn’t matter?” She said, nodding. “Well, now, we’re talking about you. Who made you holier than thou? Who crowned you king of the forest? You don’t know anything about what I am, who I am, or what I’m capable of. Because, if you think that me coming out into the forest and setting fire in the middle of thunderstorms is a hobby, you don’t know me as well as you think. Fucking creepy forest stalker or not, you don’t know me.” She shot back. 

Frustration was coming off Solomon in waves, brought to life by both his anger with the individual yelling at him, and his own personal battle of not knowing who—or what—he truly was. He always told himself it didn’t matter, but in situations like these, it certainly seemed to. She was right, he didn’t know anything about her, and he’d never allowed himself the patience to try and change that before judging someone. Perhaps… perhaps he ought to give it a try. New millennium, new Solomon, and all that. Waiting until she was done, his gaze averted for the first time since their heated exchange had begun, Solomon interjected with a wavering voice. “If I had a word for it, I’d tell you,” he muttered, the defeat in his tone barely masked by indignation. “All I do know is that I’ve been alive for almost a thousand years, and I’ve always felt compelled to protect my home and my innocent neighbors from people like you.” On the last, accusatory word, Solomon flicked his dark eyes back toward the woman, brow furrowed. “So tell me… why shouldn’t I see you as a threat to the forest? Why should I give you a pass, when I’ve cut others down for smaller offenses?”

“Sounds to me like you should figure your shit out before you go around throwing words like “unnatural” around.” Luce fired back, not giving up any ground in this verbal sparring match. She really didn’t give a fuck who-- or what-- this guy was. She was tired of being used as someone else’s punching bag. She was tired of being the who had to make amends, who had to apologize, who was wrong. “A thousand years? Well, it seems you’re hardly a judge of character if you’ve been around this fucking long and can’t tell the difference between a pyromaniac and someone who gives a shit about this place. Because, this is probably really fucking surprising to you, but I do. I actually do give a shit about this town and this forest and the people who live here. I know these woods, I know the forest, I know the animals who call it home. Maybe not the way you do, but I know them.” She held up her hands, an innocent gesture. “I owned my shit. You saw me plant those seeds, you said it yourself. I destroyed that part of the forest the night that--” She caught herself. This person, creature, whatever. He didn’t need to know why she’d burnt the forest down. Why it had been grief and fear and sorrow that had turned her flames blue, that kept her flames blue.  “It happened. And that wasn’t right. So, I went back to make it better as well as I could.”

She was a persistent one, and Solomon could feel that it was wearing him down. This conversation was exhausting, and not doing much more than running in circles, so he caved. Deflating, the fae brought a hand to his forehead and let himself slump against the tree behind him. “Fine. Fine,” he muttered in annoyance, shaking his head. “While I can’t imagine that something would ever drive me to hurt this place like you did, I suppose I’ll have to just accept that fact and deal with it. Just… try to refrain from doing it again in the future, alright? It really does take a lot out of me, trying to fix messes like that.” Heaving a sigh, Solomon waved his free hand in the direction she’d been running when they first encountered one another without looking up at her. “Get out of here, go finish your run. You’ve given me a headache.”

“Yeah, you can’t. And, honestly? I hope you never do.” Luce said, remembering the grief that had overwhelmed her that night, when she’d thrown herself into the forest and done her best to run away from the reality of her situation. She’d started running that day and she’d never really stopped, not even now, when it was over. But, it wasn’t over, was it? Shaking her head, Luce focused her attention on the man who was waving her away. While she was glad that this guy was at least giving up with the whole “protector of the forest” act, she wasn’t a fan of the fact that he was telling her what she should do. Hands still up in the air, she flipped him off, the triangle tattoos on her knuckles a nice added touch of irony. “I’m not in the business of making promises to people. I do what I want. But,” She lowered her hands, and offered a single nod, “noted.” With that, Luce turned and continued on her run, not caring what he thought of their encounter. As far as she was concerned, all this meant was she’d discovered a new self-righteous neighbor.

[pixieposts]

Febuwhump Day 8

AO3

Todays prompt is “Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep”

Once again it is Widofjord, I won’t apologize.  I don’t really know what this one is, but enjoy?😅

TW’s:  

Major Character Injury

Brief Descriptions of Injury

Temporary Character Death

"Stay with me Caleb, c’mon now”

Caleb had been slowly growing heavier as they had stumbled through the woods, and while Fjord was trying his best to support him... they wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer.  

“I am- I am sorry Fjord” Caleb gasped “I am afraid that... I don’t think I can continue on, you should-”

“If you say ‘leave me behind’ one more time I swear Cay-”

They stumbled, and Fjord finally had to admit they couldn’t make it to the road.  He tugged Caleb towards a ring of close growing trees, managing to settle them on the mossy ground in the middle.  He leaned up against a larger trunk, pulling Caleb close and pressing a hand to the gash across his thigh.  He tried not to wince at the sheer amount of blood covering his skin, and applied pressure as well as he could manage without hurting him.  Calebs head dropped against his shoulder, and Fjord watched his eyes droop dangerously.

“Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep”

Calebs eyes fluttered slightly, and he looked up at Fjord apologetically.

“I do not think I have much control over that at the moment”  

“Bullshit” he took Calebs hand in his free one “keep up that stubborn streak for me Widogast”  

That drew a small chuckle, which turned into a rough cough and a small trickle of blood out the corner of Calebs mouth.  

“I- I will try mein Freund, but I can make no promises”

They were silent then, as Fjord tried to think of something, anything they could do to get out of this alive.  He couldn’t message the others, and Caleb was in no shape to do so either.  They had no potions, no healing magic, and no clerics.  

By all accounts, they were royally fucked.  

And now Caleb was shivering, a sharp tremor that started at his shoulders and worked its way down his spine.  Fjord held on, babbling to Caleb about nothing, just trying to fill the silence while he tried to work out how long they had.  Caleb’s leg was bleeding profusely, Fjord was fairly sure the blade had managed to hit the artery.  It had been nearly a half hour now, and he could feel Caleb fading.  

He was just so pale.  

“Fjord?! Fjord we lost sight of you, are you still in the woods?  Are you okay? We are okay, sore but not dead or anything!”  

Fjord felt his shoulders slump in relief as Jester's voice filled his head.  The others were okay, and now they had a way out of this mess.  

“Jes, thank fuck, we’re stuck in the woods, Caleb isn’t doing well, we need help asap.  Can you locate object on us? Please it’s really-”

He felt the spell fizzle out and cursed under his breath, the word limit had to be the most annoying spell restriction he had ever encountered.  

“You got cut off, but we’re on the way!  Tell Caleb we’ll be there soon to fix him right up!  We’re not too far now!”

He smiled for what felt like the first time in days and let the spell fizzle, there wasn’t anything else he needed to say at this point.  He looked down at Caleb, grinning.

“Hear that Cay?  The others are on the way, we’ll be all sorted in no time”

Caleb didn’t respond, he was so white now that the blood and dirt almost looked fake.  His breathing had gone shallow enough that Fjord had to actively search for signs of it now.  

“Hey, Caleb, you gotta stay awake for me okay?” he struggled to keep the panic from his voice “tell me- tell me about that spell you were working on the other day, talk to me Cay”  

“I... Es tut mir so leid, Schatz. I am sorry”

Calebs voice was hardly audible, barely more than a breath in the quiet woods.  Fjord watched in horror as Caleb’s eyes closed again, one painfully slow breath, another... and then nothing.  The entirety of Caleb’s weight settled into Fjord’s lap, and the hand in his went limp.  

“Cay?  Caleb?  C’mon Cay you gotta wake up, you can’t go like this!  We have- we have too much left to do.  The others are on the way, Cay, just a little longer”  

Caleb, for all Fjords pleading, did not wake up.  Something in Fjord snapped then, though he didn’t recognize it as such, and his pleading turned back to quiet stories.  If he just kept talking, eventually Caleb would respond, he could never help himself.  He might hold out for a while, but if Fjord just kept up a stream of increasingly ridiculous nonsense... Caleb was too clever, he couldn’t resist sharing knowledge.  He was still talking when the others came crashing through the trees towards them.  

“Fjord!  We’re- oh”

Fjord heard Jester's voice but didn’t see much of a point in responding.  He hadn’t gotten Caleb to talk yet.  He didn’t look up until a tanned hand came into his field of vision, resting lightly on his wrist where he held Calebs hand.  Beau’s expression was a mix of sadness and worry, and Fjord didn’t have it in him to comfort her.  

“Let’s... let’s get him back to the inn yeah?  We can go looking for diamonds and he can wake up somewhere comfy?”  

She reached for Caleb, clearly aiming to lift him from Fjord's lap, and he growled.  He wouldn’t let anyone take Caleb, not now- not if he could help it.  Her hand snapped back, and she looked towards the others in clear concern.  Fjord didn’t care.  

“Fjord...”  

“Let me”

Beau moved away as Veth knelt next to them, her small brown hands pushing Caleb’s hair back out of his face.  

“Look big guy, I know we don’t always see eye to eye... but that’s my boy you’ve got there”  

He glared, Caleb was his, even if they hadn’t exactly talked about it yet.  But she ignored his expression, her eyes lingering on Caleb’s face

“You’ve done a great job looking out for him, I can’t thank you enough for that, but now we need to get him somewhere warm so when he wakes up, he can stay safe for a while”

Fjord thought it over, searching her expression as she finally turned to look at him, and nodded.  Veth drove him up the wall sometimes, but there was no doubt in his mind that she wanted the best for Caleb.  So, he stood with Caleb cradled in his arms, and followed her out of the woods.

[admiralty-xfd]

I wonder what is Bill's opinion about Scully's runaway with Mulder and then living with him. Ohhh and what he thinks about William

Hi, anon! I don’t think he liked it very much. At all. I’ve written a scene post-IWTB where I tackle this and I’ll include it here for your reading pleasure. (Source: This Woman’s Work). 

It rarely snowed this time of year in DC, but as Scully looked out the front window of her mother’s house she could see it beginning. A white Christmas, in spite of everything. It felt like a sign of something hopeful.

Mulder came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “Your mom says dinner is ready,” he said into her ear. She had no intention of moving an inch, and he stood there with her, both of them just watching the first few flakes begin to fall.

“We haven’t had a white Christmas in twenty years,” Scully observed.

“Really? Is this Fun Weather Facts with Dr. Scully?” Mulder chuckled.

She gently elbowed him in the chest. “It’s true. My mom and I were talking about it earlier. Seems so right that it would happen this year. It’s like a fresh start for us.”

She took his hand and held it close to her heart, closing her eyes and taking it all in. They were free, and safe. The FBI wasn’t after him anymore. He’d proposed to her in the Maldives. They married shortly after.

He was her husband now. Mulder.

“I just want to enjoy this,” she told him. “Everything feels perfect right now.”

“It really does,” he agreed. “It’s a nice change.” He leaned around to kiss her temple.

“Is Bill behaving himself?” she ventured, not really wanting to know the answer. She felt him shrug.

“He’s Bill. He hates me.”

She laughed. “Tara and Matty like you. My mom likes you.” She turned around in his arms and kissed him softly, slowly. “I like you.”

“Matty only likes me because of the Sasquatch.”

Scully smiled. Mulder had picked out the stuffed animal and it had ended up being her nephew’s favorite present, much to Bill Jr.’s annoyance.

“Kids are easy,” he continued. “Big brothers are impossible.”

She didn’t say anything, cognizant that Mulder must be thinking about Samantha. She knew Mulder put up with Bill’s nonsense as best as he could, but it still irked her. It probably always would.

“Shall we?” he offered his arm and she took it.

Maggie settled everyone into their seats and dinner began. After a couple courses, the topic of Mulder and Scully’s engagement came up. It had been a long time since they’d seen Bill’s family, and hadn’t had the chance to talk about it with them yet.

“So, Fox- I mean, Mulder,” Tara corrected herself. “Maggie mentioned you said you’d asked Dana several times before she said yes. How’d you finally do it?”

“Well, she was just waiting for the right moment, I think,” he smiled. “I’m sure she knew deep down I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Maggie and Tara laughed. Bill cleared his throat loudly and looked at his plate, not making eye contact with anyone.

“Anyway, we were in the Maldives. I had promised to take her somewhere… far away. We haven’t really had a chance to go on vacation before.”

“Hmph.” Bill snorted. “Wonder why that was?”

Scully glared at him. Mulder politely ignored him, or at least tried to, as he usually did, and continued with the story.

“We wanted to find a place that was as far away from… well, here, as we could get. We took a globe and found the spot that came as close to matching that description as we could and we both said ‘that’s the place.’”

She put her hand on his thigh underneath the table. As far away from the darkness as they could get. He’d delivered on that promise, in full.

“We were just lying there on the beach and I knew it was time,” he said, and looked over at her. They rarely had the opportunity to be affectionate with one another around other people. It was unusual, but to Scully, it felt good. “I was right, too, because she said yes.”

“I didn’t say yes,” Scully shook her head and sipped her wine. “I believe what I actually said was ‘okay.’”

Maggie and Tara laughed again, and Mulder nodded, conceding that point.

“Okay, true. But you still ended up marrying me, so the joke’s on you, Scully.” He grinned at her and she smiled back. “We went down to the courthouse as soon as we got home.”

“So... you two kind of had your honeymoon before your wedding,” Tara pointed out.

“We did everything else backwards, so we figured why break with tradition?” Mulder replied.

He winked at Scully and all she could do was gaze at him; her partner Mulder, who, against every possible likely outcome was somehow now her husband, here in her mother’s house on Christmas. Mulder as a husband was something she’d never really pictured and now here he was, a reality.

“This is so wonderful,” Maggie said, clasping her hands together. “I’m so happy you and your family were able to make it up from San Diego this year, Bill. What an amazing gift to have you all here, and now that both Dana and Fox are in the mix again it truly feels like a real family gathering for the first time in a long time.”

She put her hand on Matthew’s head and ruffled his hair. “And having my grandson here is just icing on the cake!”

Bill piped up again. “Would have had one more around the table, too, if things had gone differently.”

The room went dead silent. A chill ran up Scully’s spine. Her body tensed, and Mulder noticed. His hand immediately went to hers underneath the table and held it tight. She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. But Mulder could.

“What did you say?” he challenged.

“I think you heard me,” Bill replied. His face looked so goddamn smug Scully wondered if he actually got some kind of sick pleasure out of hurting her this way.

She knew Bill's comment was less about William and more about Mulder. She was so tired of this endless one-way battle her brother had waged against Mulder since the day he met him. He had endured Bill’s bullshit with dignity for years. She’d always assumed Mulder was just trying to keep the peace and she was grateful for that; most of the time he’d been in attendance as her partner, or as her friend. She knew it must have been awkward for him.

But now, however, it seemed to Scully like he’d had enough. Maybe it was the freeing knowledge that she was now his wife; their relationship had never been so clearly defined within the walls of the Scully home. Or maybe it was because Bill’s snide comment had been about William, the most painful topic he could possibly have dredged up.

More than likely, it was just that smug fucking expression on Bill’s face that did it. For the first time ever, it seemed Mulder wasn't going to let Bill get away with his behavior.

“What’s your problem, Bill? Why would you say something like that?” Mulder asked.

Bill shrugged. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

Mulder looked him dead in the eyes. “Well, the way I see it is you’re an asshole. Why would you want to hurt your sister like that? And on Christmas? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Scully could see her mother tense up out of the corner of her eye. Tara put her fork down and corralled Matthew out of the dining room, knowing this wasn’t leading anywhere child-friendly.

“You’ve given me a hard time for years," Mulder continued. "I’ve stayed quiet because to be honest, I think I’ve deserved a lot of it. But Dana doesn’t deserve this vitriol, not from you.”

Bill was clearly in the mood for a fight. “She had to give away her own kid. Because of you. All of it is because of you.”

Scully had tried to explain her decision regarding William to Bill, she really had. Nowhere in her explanation had Mulder’s name even come up. It didn’t matter to her brother, maybe it never would. He’d never accept Mulder into their family, not ever.

“It was a very difficult time, for both of us-” Mulder began to explain.

“Why are you still here? Hanging around with my sister? You don’t work together anymore. She’s paid her dues with you, more than paid them. What more can you possibly want from her?”

Mulder stood up then, and glared at his brother-in-law. Scully didn’t want this to escalate any further. She reached for his hand and pulled softly.

“It’s okay, Mulder. Just leave it.”

“No,” he said. “It’s not okay. It’s not okay at all.” He turned his attention back to Bill. “I don’t want anything from your sister. Why is she still with me? Because I asked her to be with me and she said yes. I don’t feel like I should have to tell you this, Bill, but you should support your sister when she’s in pain, not make it worse.”

The air was as tense as Scully had ever felt it, and there had been many a tense evening in this house.

“My sister was taken from me when I was just a kid. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about her, and wish I could have her back for just one more day,” Mulder revealed. He’d never talked about Samantha to her family before. She was fairly sure they knew, but him bringing it up made it more real.

Bill had the good grace to appear chastised, at least for the moment.

“I know you lost a sister too, Bill. Believe me. I don’t want you to lose another one.”

Scully pulled on his hand again and he sat.

“Bill, enough is enough. This has to stop,” her mother finally spoke. “Fox isn’t going anywhere, and as long as you’re in my house I’d ask you to show him the same respect you’d give any member of our family.”

Bill looked at his mother, silently stood up, threw his napkin on the table and left the room. Everyone listened as he grabbed his coat and his keys and waited for the door to slam. Tara spoke first, having left Matthew in the other room with his Legos.

“I’m so sorry about him. I don’t know why he won’t just let all this go.”

Mulder shook his head. “No, I’m sorry for causing drama every time I come over. I wish I could set it all right again.”

Maggie turned to Mulder. “Fox, you are as much a part of this family as Bill is. You have every right to be here. And you have nothing to apologize for.”

Mulder smiled at her and Scully squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“Thanks, Mrs. Scully.”

“And we’ve known each other for a long time. I think of you as my own son. If you’re comfortable, I’d like it if you called me Maggie, okay?”

Scully felt Mulder twitch involuntarily, sensing the enormity of the moment. He appeared touched. Perhaps it was because he’d lost his own mother years ago. Perhaps it was because Maggie had stood up for him the way she did. Maybe it was only because it was Christmas. But what Mulder said next surprised her.

“Thanks, Mom,” he smiled.

Maggie smiled back, tears in her eyes. Scully felt like the watch they’d bought her for Christmas no longer mattered; this was the gift she’d really wanted.

***

“I don’t think you’ve ever been upstairs in my mom’s house, have you, Mulder?”

“No, I don’t think I have,” he said.

She led him down the hallway. “We moved here from Annapolis just after high school,” she explained. “I lived here while I was at UMD.”

She pushed one of the bedroom doors open. “We’re staying in here.”

She gave him a mischievous grin and pulled him inside. The bedroom door closed and Mulder pushed her back against it. Their lips met and he took her hands in his, moving them up above her head and holding them there.

“Are you telling me young college coed Dana Katherine Scully used to sleep in this room?”

“Not this room,” she mumbled into his mouth. “This was where Bill stayed, actually.”

He pulled back, his face already flushed, and gave her that look that made her feel her heart beating throughout her entire body. “Oh, is that so?”

Scully nodded, licking her lips. Her mother had turned this room into a guest room long ago, but the information seemed pertinent at the moment.

She closed her eyes and shuddered as his mouth moved to her earlobe and whispered softly. “I think I know a great way to stick it to him, Scully.”

“What, you want to have sex in my brother’s old room?”

“I was going to suggest sugar in his gas tank but your idea sounds more fun.”

She smiled and he released her hands, reached under her backside and lifted her up into him, pushing her backwards so she was wedged between him and the door. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he kissed her again, his tongue moving against hers in a rhythm they both knew by heart. God, he was so good at this. So good. They’d honed and perfected this particular dance so well he knew every little thing she wanted, responded to every urge she had whether she asked or not. He’d made it a personal quest of his over the past few years. It was times like these she stopped being annoyed by his obsessive nature and just fucking loved him for it.

He walked backwards to the bed, with her still wrapped around him, and sat down on the edge. Her hands were gripping his hair and she was practically mauling his face. Thinking about how he’d finally given Bill a taste of his own medicine and how he’d done it all for her got her incredibly turned on. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit she’d gotten a little thrill when he’d referred to her as Dana, too. It rarely happened.

“I’ve never had sex in this house before,” she breathed into his ear. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to my old bedroom instead?”

He shook his head. “Defiling your brother’s old bed sounds more fun, doesn’t it?” He started to unzip the back of her dress and she shifted her body to better sit in his lap, pulling the dress up around her waist.

“I don't actually think this is his, I’m pretty sure my mom replaced it at some point.”

“Hmm. Oddly enough, I am undeterred. We can do it in your bedroom next Christmas.”

“Thanksgiving is sooner,” she smiled as his lips captured hers again. For a few minutes they made out like teenagers and she reveled in how good it still felt to do that. Maybe it was because they’d denied themselves this physical affection for so many years, but even the foreplay was always a wonderful journey for them. And it always built to something even more amazing than before. It seemed like each and every time was better than the last. They’d certainly been blessed in that regard, she thought, as his hands slipped inside the back of her dress, exploring.

She wanted to focus on his touch but the conflict downstairs was still on her mind. “He’s such a fucking asshole, Mulder,” she said between kisses. “Why do you put up with that? Why would you even come here with me?”

His eyes softened and he leaned back to look at her. “Because your mom invited me.” He kissed her again behind her ear. “I have a soft spot for you Scully women.”

“You know what would be really scandalous?” she offered. It was something she’d always wanted to try during sex, and they never had. She could hardly believe it, now that she thought about it.

“You mean, besides what we’re already doing right now? Lay it on me.” He started to pull her dress down over her shoulders, kissing them as he did so.

“Well, we’re in my mother’s house, in my brother’s old room, on Christmas, and my family is downstairs.”

“Exactly,” he murmured into her hair. “That’s varsity-level, Scully. What could be more scandalous?”

She put her hands on either side of his face and held his forehead to hers. She kissed him purposefully, then whispered it into his ear.

“Call me Dana.”

He pulled away, looking at her, and raised an eyebrow. “That is scandalous.” He tucked a strand of her long hair behind her ear and grinned. “Have you been holding out on me? Is this some deep, dark fantasy you’ve never told me about?”

“No, actually,” she said, blushing a bit. “Honestly I always thought it might be weird. But I’m curious.”

“Now I am, too,” he admitted. He slipped a finger underneath her bra strap and gently pulled and released, snapping it. His voice dropped an octave. “Okay. Dana.”

Something fluttered deep inside her. It was a strange sensation, which she could identify as arousal but there was something else. They were already as close a pair as could possibly exist, she knew this. But something about doing something new that involved her given name made her feel like they’d taken a step even closer to each other. That alone was a huge turn on.

Who was she kidding? Anything that came out of his mouth was a turn on, especially during sex.

She wanted to laugh that something so ordinary like being called by her first name could be so scandalous. She closed her eyes and enjoyed this odd feeling of being normal with Mulder. Suddenly she wanted to get a step even closer. She didn’t know what he would think but from the state of his own arousal which she could feel beneath her, she figured the odds were good he wouldn’t deny her anything at the moment.

"Can I call you Fox?”

He closed his eyes, considering it. “Just this once,” she clarified. “Just tonight.” She ran her fingers through his hair, and then leaned in and bit his lower lip to sweeten the deal.

He was quiet for a second, then: “You can call me whatever the hell you want, as long as you keep doing that.”

She laughed and he laughed and it was one of those perfect moments she knew she’d always remember, in spite of the dust up with Bill, and in spite of everything else they’d been through. Right now, with him, she was perfectly happy.

“I love you,” he said. It was as if he knew just then this was an important moment for them, too.

“I love you too, Mulder,” she whispered. Then she grabbed him by the sides of his face and looked him directly in the eye, smiling mischeviously. “Now fuck me in my brother’s old room.”

“Whatever you say, Dana,” he grinned as she pushed him backwards onto the bed.

***

She awoke with his arms around her. It was just after midnight. It occurred to her that, other than the Maldives, it had been years since she’d woken up in a bed that wasn’t their own.

It smelled like home in here, and she smiled. It was a happy memory, and combining the scent with the feel of Mulder’s arms surrounding her made her even happier.

Suddenly thirsty, she slipped out of his arms quietly and threw on her robe to go downstairs.

As she got to the bottom of the stairs she stood looking at the tree for a bit, remembering Christmases past, so many happy memories from back when things were simple.

She thought about her father, but mostly she missed Melissa. She smiled, thinking of a conversation they’d had long ago about Mulder. It made her feel a twinge of sadness that Missy wasn’t here now, to see how right she’d been about the two of them. To laugh with them and be an ally in the face of all of Bill’s nonsense.

Just then she noticed Bill, through the window, sitting on the porch. She wondered how long he’d been out there in the cold.

She threw on her mother’s overcoat, hanging by the front door, and went out to sit with him. It was freezing outside, and Scully shivered and wondered how quickly she’d regret this decision.

“Have you been out here the whole time?” she asked him.

Bill puffed on a cigar. “No. Drove around a bit. Went to Spanky’s for a drink.”

“It was open? On Christmas?”

“You’d be surprised,” he said, staring straight ahead.

She wasn’t out here to make small talk. She wanted them to be okay. This all seemed so silly. They were family, after all.

Bill shook his head, staring straight forward. “I just don’t get it, Dana. What is it about that guy? What do you see in him? What could possibly make all this worth it?”

Scully wanted him to understand. What could she possibly say that could make him okay with all this? She could think of only one thing to say, something she’d never had the confidence to say to him before.

“We love each other,” she said, as she tilted her head to look at him. Bill still didn’t turn, and just sighed.

After a couple minutes of silence, the chill in the air started to get to her. “We don’t get many chances in life to do the right thing," she said to him. "We can try, but there just isn’t enough time.” He still wouldn’t face her.

“Look at me, Bill,” she said. He finally did. “This is it. We are all we have. Dad is gone, Melissa is gone. William is gone. Charlie is… who knows where.” Tears started to form in her eyes. “You, me, Mom. That’s it.”

He kept looking at her but still said nothing.

“And Mulder didn’t give up our child, Bill. It was my decision. If you want to hate someone, if you want to blame someone, make it me.”

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry I did.”

She could see his eyes starting to soften and wondered if something had gotten through.

“I was angry when Melissa was killed,” he admitted. “I wanted to blame someone, and I didn’t want it to be you. So I blamed him. Then everything that happened to you… I feel like so much changed. He’s the cause. He’s the cause of all of it.”

“Bill, you have to know Mulder didn’t ask for any of this. Especially what happened to me, and our sister. He’s lost more than you know.”

“I do know that, Dana. But you deserve better than him.”

Scully wondered if that were true. She came to the conclusion instantly that even if it were, it wouldn’t matter. “You don’t have to worry about me, you know. I’m happy. He makes me happy.”

She knew he’d never approve of Mulder, she’d never get him there. But if they could get to a place where they could have some peace, she’d be content with that.

“You once said to me we have a responsibility not only to ourselves but to the people in our lives,” she continued. “You may not like it, but he’s in my life too. He is a person in my life. And I have a responsibility to him.”

He said nothing more. Things may never get to where she wanted them; there was too much anger there, too much animosity. But she’d said what she’d needed to say.

She sighed and got up. “It’s cold, I’m going inside.” He turned away again to look out at the street. As she reached the door she turned back to look at him and was struck by how much he looked like her father, sitting in his chair, smoking a cigar.

She smiled at the memory. Then she opened the door and went inside where it was warm, where Mulder’s arms would be waiting for her.

Two months later, Bill and his family were stationed in Germany. They rarely crossed paths again.

[mego42]

1x07 Discussion Questions

My b! My b! I usually try to do these when the episode is fresh but instead I went to sleep, I am at peace with my priorities, tbh. As always, many thanks to @pynkhues​ for her time and energy putting these together and shout out to @foxmagpie​ for the assist. 

1. What was your favourite scene of the episode? Tell us why!

Lot of contenders, tbh. I really love the scene with Mary Pat when she puts together the (extremely transparent) bullshit that is the whole secret shopper scheme (I mean come on y’all, did you even try????), I love Ruby and Stan’s date (high five to Stan for coming through with my parks & rec reference, it’s nice to know there is one (1) man I can count on). The Annie and Greg bit is REALLY SWEET LEAVE ME ALONE. The god tier brio content, specifically The Grab Heard Round The World My Living Room and the Give Me A Name bit. Some classic Rio nonsense (do you think if we asked him to point to an egg he’d point to an apple?) Tyler and his “reeeeeeally fill out the surveys?” was, obvs, the best moment on the entire show. Anyway, one of those for sure.

2. Was there any scene that missed the mark for you? And if so, how?

The Boomer setting up Annie stuff always falls flat to me and idk exactly why? Like, individual pieces of it are great, Mae does EXCELLENT work post police station and when getting arrested in the first place but ultimately I find it fairly forgettable in the grand scheme of things.

3. Let’s talk about the secret shopper scheme! What do you think were the strengths of it? The flaws? Do you think it had longterm potential? Or was it always going to crash and burn?

I said this during the rewatch but I straight up blocked out the fact that all of the shoppers are hitting the same store on the same day (waving around upwards of $5k in cash???? no less???????) because my brain cannot comprehend how three women we’re supposed to believe are reasonably intelligent didn’t realize this was the stupidest, most transparently obvious, most short-sighted scheme in the entire world. 

I struggled with the sustainability of it a bit when I thought they were spreading their efforts around (they roped in A Lot of people, there are only so many Costcos in the Detroit metro area and waving around that much cash and then returning it all, again for cash, is uh, already p memorable) but I could deal with it when I thought they were spreading it around. Short-sighted, immediate solutions are a cornerstone of Beth’s brand, after all, but all of them at the same store at the same day???? Too much. I cannot. 

4. The girls spent their money in very different ways! Ruby on romancing Stan, Annie on clothes for her son, and Beth on jewellery for herself. What do you think this tells us about them and their arcs? Particularly coming off the back of Ruby’s conflict with Stan, Ben’s issues at school with clothes, and Beth leaving Rio her pearls?

Love these connects. The show’s got a pretty clearly defined and consistent visual/character motifs (this may or may not be the word I’m looking for, shut up) when it comes to depicting the girls priorities and motivations. You also see it reflected and reinforced with their repeated coping mechanisms throughout the show. Whenever bad stuff happens, Ruby goes home to Stan, Annie crawls into bed with Ben and we usually close with Beth either alone (ouch david) or connecting with Rio in some way (exhibit a: the aforementioned pearls). 

In all of the instances it comes back to the heart of their priorities:

Stan is Ruby’s number one, (which isn’t to say her kids aren’t a part of that, I think Stan is both himself in this sense while also representing her whole Hill family unit—TV is all about visual shorthand kids—but also it serves to illustrate that Ruby has something Beth and Annie do not: a true partner). 

Ben is at the root of everything Annie does, she makes choices based on not only his. well-being, but how he sees her and he has the most influence over how she sees herself and what actions she takes as a result of that.

Beth, on the other hand, is at a contrasting point. She’s done the devoted partner and mother thing (lowkey implied by the little bits and pieces we get of her and Annie’s childhoods to some degree more or less for her entire life) and is now putting herself first, her needs, her wants. Which isn’t to say she doesn’t give a fuck about her family, she waits until she’s got a fat stack of cash and they’re taken care of before splurging on a thing, but as a symbol I think the necklace pretty clearly illuminates that for whatever Beth tells herself, she’s building an empire for herself, bc she wants it, needing it is secondary.

5. Eddie’s arrest is arguably what sets us on a collision course with the finale! Do you think Eddie was loyal to Rio until the end? How much do you think he told Turner? And what sort of loyalty do you think Rio inspires in his boys? And why doesn’t it translate with the girls?

OF COURSE EDDIE WAS LOYAL TO THE END HE HAS CLEARLY DEMONSTRATED HE HAS SOME KIND OF CODE OF HONOR HOW DARE YOU SLANDER MY BOY LIKE THAT.

Tbh idk how to answer the loyalty question without more information from canon because the gang and how they operate, how they all came together, etc is pretty well shrouded in not-central-narrative-focus, though I think it’s been implied somewhat heavily that what’s going on with the girls is not standard operating procedure.

My personal headcanon for Eddie is tied up in my personal backstory for Rio and Mick that I started for my (lmao first) Mick POV fic. I gave Rio and Mick a friends since we were kids backstory and decided Eddie was a kid in their neighborhood, slightly younger then them, and always looked up to them/followed them around/thought they were cool. He ultimately got involved in crime because they did and they looked out for him and brought him up with them (which, you know, makes how it all turns out that much more tragic). Obvs, this is all just me and my tendency to imprint on random side characters and give them backstories. Let me live.

6. This episode introduces us to Mary Pat, who’s probably one of this show’s most complicated antagonists! What do you think of her generally? And could you have predicted her arc with Boomer and Turner?

I love her and I’m done lying to myself about it.

LISTEN, first off, Allison Tolman is great. Her line delivery is fantastic, she has a knack for subtly adding SO MUCH to every scene she’s in and uses her face and inflection and pauses exquisitely. Top notch comedic timing. Truly a gem.

Second, on a character level, the lady is in a bad spot and the girls basically gift-wrapped the circumstances and handed them to her like here is a present!!!!!!!!!!!! What was a struggling girl to do besides accept what was offered to her??????!!!!!!???

7. This episode features a very pivotal scene in terms of the Beth, Ruby and Annie dynamic. What starts as tension between Annie and Beth quickly pivots when Ruby criticises Beth and Annie leaps to her sister’s defence. What do you think this tells us about the dynamic between the girls as pairs and as a trio?

I am so!!!! curious!!!!!!! about the backstory that exists in the writers’ heads for Ruby and Annie (all three of them, really, but the bff and little sister having an independent friendship is of particular interest to me bc it isn’t something you, or I guess I, run into a lot) and how much of it was defined at this point vs how much it’s evolved/fluctuated as the show goes on. This fight pretty clearly illuminated that when it really comes down to it, it’s Beth and Annie vs Ruby which a) breaks my heart and b) isn’t totally a dynamic I think the show ultimately stuck with? Or maybe intentionally fluctuates? Idk this is a half-baked thought. Ask again later. 

8. Greg is the one who kisses Annie! Who do you think left who in that relationship, and/or what were the biggest issues in that relationship?

I feel like there’s pretty much no way Annie wasn’t the one that called things off with Greg. Not just because of how it plays out this time but because he’s got a kind of persistent yet also go with the flow attitude that makes me think he would absorb a lot in the name of making it work whereas Annie seems to have a pretty established history of cutting her losses and bailing when she hits her limit. Based on how fond they are of each other and how much affection they clearly still hold, I tend to assume they just grew apart as they grew up which makes it almost more complicated and tragic because it leaves all of the good stuff and just mixes it with the knowledge that it wasn’t enough. 

9. What did you think of Ruby’s sauce story? And what do you think it meant as a turning point for her arc?

I HATE THIS STORY SO MUCH USED BAND AIDS ARE GROSS ENOUGH ON THEIR OWN WITHOUT MIXING IN FOOD SERVICE AND MONTHS, MONTHS, OF MARINATION. I REFUSE TO TALK ABOUT IT. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.

10. Knowing that Beth, Ruby and Annie’s system of paying Mary Pat off doesn’t work, do you think there was a way they could’ve handled her on their own that would’ve worked? Or do you think Rio’s intimidation (and potential murder) tactic was the only way out?

Idk maybe I’m just cynical, but I take trust no bitch to heart, they pretty well screwed themselves into a corner by being idiots. 

[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (11/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : Graphic descriptions of violence, Viewer discretion is advised (short paragraph)

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 11/? (2247 words)

Author’s notes : The end of the second act draws nigh ! (also, I see some new followers, if you wanna be added to the taglist, feel free to ask !)

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“Eris, anyone home ?”

Leah's soft voice dragged me out of the void I'd been staring into for the past... Well, Gods know how long. I raised my head to meet her slightly worried gaze.

“Yeah, sorry. You wouldn't believe how many of those can't make the difference between a century and a millennium, it's appalling.”

She didn't seem that amused at my sorry excuse for a justification.

“Have you seen the bags under your eyes ?”, she reprimanded me in a hushed voice. “How long since you had a decent night of sleep ? You're so pale, you look like a damn vampire.”

I had a dry laugh. She wasn't wrong, to be fair. For the past four days, I barely got any sleep, any noise waking me up in a cold sweat, when I just didn't lay frozen in bed, unable to close my eyes, for hours on end, until the sun got up. Mostly, I only stayed up because of a carefully thought-out blend of coffee and anxiety.

“I'm fine, Leah. I just didn't put on any makeup this morning. That is my face”, I told her, trying to sound offended.

“Don't bullshit me. Go. Home.”

Her tone didn't invite arguing about it. She reached across the table, and took my hand in hers, smiling. She proposed calling me an Uber, but I figured walking would clear my head. I put away my stuff, leaving her to her books.

The library was almost entirely empty at this hour, and the normally automatic lights didn't even turn on as I passed through the halls. I slapped my badge on the door to get it open, and was welcomed by a gush of freezing air from the outside. The sun had only just set, and the orange lamp posts had everything seem grey, except the deep red of the sky, near the horizon. Everything was quiet, save from the intermittent cawing of a crow, or the rustling of leaves, in the light, but biting breeze that had set in with the night.

I started walking. The sound of my boots echoed in the empty campus' streets. At this time, there was about a tram every twenty minutes. If I walked fast, I'd catch the next one. As I started walking faster, I couldn't help but feel followed. That feeling, once it crossed your mind, could only set, seeping into every pore of your being, until you... I turned back. Nothing. Not even a shadow at the corner of a building, a suspiciously flickering light. Nothing. Even so, my chest felt too tight to breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out.

I kept on going toward the tram stop. Focus on that, the tram stop. Breathe in. I stopped, pushing my back against a post. Breathe out. I turned my head, trying to relax my tense muscles. In the corner of my eye, a shadow. I screamed, jumped back.

“I dream of a day where your first reaction to seeing me won't be that of a deer in headlights.”

He stepped in the light, as elegant as always, in his long, dark coat. He looked exceptionally well, about as much as I had to look dreadful. He took a step forward, and I instinctively took one back. He stopped, a look of disbelief painted on his features. He looked almost hurt by me pulling back.

“Is something wrong, Eris ?”, he asked, concerned, but equally demanding.

I tried to find an answer. Yes. Yes, something's wrong. Everything is goddamn fucking wrong.

“I'm gonna miss my tram”, I muttered.

I turned back to the way I was going, and in a second, I felt his hand on my arm stop me. My heart sank to my stomach, and I broke free of his grasp. My heart beat so fast I was almost gasping for air.

“Did something happen while I was gone ?”

“It's just- I don't- Nothing hap-”

My words came stuck in my throat. I didn't even know what to say. Where to start. He placed both his hands on my shoulders, calmly asking me to look up at him.

“You... You are shaking, what on earth... Am I causing this ? Do I scare you ?”

I raised my head to meet his gaze, jaws clenched not to have my teeth chatter. He looked so genuinely confused, I was finally able to take a deep breath.

“Can I trust you ?”, I managed to whisper.

He didn't answer a moment, seeming less ton consider his answer, than what prompted the question.

“Without question.” He was looking straight into my eyes, the intensity of his gaze leaving no place for a lie. Fuck, I wanted to believe him. The weight of his hands on my shoulders made me feel safe. How could it make me feel safe ? Wasn't that just another trick ? Another way to make me trust him, just to make the job easier ?

Tears I didn't notice building up burned my cheeks as they rolled down. He moved a hand to my face, and erased them with his thumb, softly.

“What happened ?”, he asked again.

If we are to stop this creature, we need your full support. For some reason, he trusts you more than most. You cannot tell him about your knowledge of this place.

I gently pulled myself from his grasp, and stepped back, forcing a smile.

“Nothing happened. I'm just tired”, I told him. “I really have to catch my tram, Vlad.”

“Nonsense, I'm bringing you home”, he insisted. “You are very obviously distressed, and lying to me. Get in the car.”

The authoritative tone had me shiver. I knew I didn't have any choice, in the end, and nodded. He opened the door for me, as always. I sat down, buckled up. Focused on the line of led lights, moving in a slow, red wave.

“If you refuse to talk to me”, Vlad began as he started the car, “I can only assume this has something to do with me. Now, understand that I could take a minute and find out, but I meant what I said, when I told you you could trust me.”

He kept focused on the road. I could tell him everything. That would be a risk. If he really was who MINA said he was, if he did... If he did what they said he did... That would most likely be my death warrant. If he started being too suspicious, he could just read my mind, and given how deeply those images were engraved into my brain, it wouldn't be too hard. I had no idea how to go about this.

“I found out the reason why Stephan was putting me off.”

“And that is ?”

“We looked into his family tree, and his mother is a Mary Van Helsing, from the Murray Institute for the Neutralization of Abnormalities.”

I said that on a single breath, and awaited his reaction. His face didn't betray any emotion, but his silence was speaking volumes.

“They found us out pretty fast”, I continued, figuring I was on too deep already. “We were taken to their headquarters, or whatever that bunker was. They were suspicious that I was acquainted with a vampire, posing as the respectable professor Vlad Balaur.”

“And what did you tell them ?”

His tone was frighteningly neutral. “For some reason I still can't explain, nothing”, I replied. “I had them believe I had no idea such things existed, less so that you were one.”

He had a short hum, but remained silent.

“They told me you were posing as a vampire they killed in 1896, Count Dracula, who apparently is quite the messiah in the Vampire World”, I jabbed at him. “That you probably manipulated my memories, my emotions, just so I'd end up like the others !”

Tears were streaming down my face, and despite my best efforts, my voice was shaking in anger. I couldn't help but think he could pull over and snap my neck at any moment. Might as well make the best of my last moments.

“Would you please clarify what you mean by 'the others' ?”

He sounded so calm, so composed. I tried not to think on the implications.

“They showed me the pictures, Vlad.” My chest hurt so bad. I barely was able to keep taking. “In retrospect, you were pretty clean with the horse. I guess he deserved better than human beings do, right ?”

“Eris, I don't understand-”

“Don't fucking lie to me !” My voice broke. I had no way to remain calm, the taste of bile going up my throat. “I saw it, I fucking saw the- the-” I slapped my hand over my mouth, desperately trying to catch my breath.

Vlad had the turning signal on, and pulled over. I couldn't stop crying, my face buried into my hands, unable to form any coherent sentence. The car stopped. He didn't say anything. At any moment, I thought I'd feel his hands around my neck, or his teeth. Instead, he only called out my name, softly, barely audible through my sobbing.

“Eris, please.”

I dried up my face as best I could with my scarf.

“You promised. You promised you wouldn't hurt anybody”, I managed to stammer between hiccups.

“I have not-”

“I saw the pictures !”, I repeated. “They showed me- So much blood-”

I turned my head to his. He slowly raised a hand to my face, hesitantly, waiting for a rebuffal. I did nothing, and he pushed strands of hair off my forehead, and cupped my cheek. His touch was so soothing. Not a bad feeling to die on.

“And you believed them ?”

“I- I- Of course, they just- Who else ?”

“I have no idea”, he admitted, his voice soft, and calm. “Eris, I have not, not a single time, done anything contrary to our agreement. I have not taken a life since our second meeting.”

I wanted to believe him, so bad. I wanted to believe he wasn't the monster responsible for the contents of Mary Van Helsing's case-file.

“How can I believe you ? How can I be certain you're not lying to me ?”, I breathed out, still resting my head onto his hand.

“You can't. You can only trust me.” He leaned in, placing a light kiss on my forehead, as was his habit. He pulled away, keeping close. “Do you trust me ?”

“Yes”, I replied, without thinking about it.

I did. As stupid, dangerously stupid as it was, I did. What else could I do ? What was the better option ? Were the MINA guys that much more trustworthy ? Well, if you took into account the fact that they didn't try to kill me yet, probably.

“As for the fact that I would be my own usurper, I don't know how to argue for it, to be honest. I have rarely been faced with the task of proving my identity.”

He sat back behind the wheel, and started the car.

“You would do well to remember that MINA was founded by people who were so terrified of me, they left without assuring themselves of the success of their mission, which led to accounts of my death being greatly exaggerated.”

I couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

“There, I like that better.”

The rest of the ride was mostly silent, which was still arguably better than crying. Vlad finally pulled over in front of my building. I got out of the car, took a few steps, but didn't go further than that. Behind me, I head his door open.

“Should I wait for you on your balcony ?”

I took a deep breath. “No.” I turned on my heels to face him. “You're taking the stairs, for once.”

“I... Beg your pardon ?”

“Just follow me, will you ?”

He shut his door, and I went to open my building's door. I buzzed us in, holding the door for him. Guess he didn't need an invitation for the whole building, huh. What the hell was I doing ? There's a difference between not thinking someone does gruesome murders in his spare time, and inviting them over for a cup of tea ! Especially if their drink of choice isn't your damn Russian Earl Grey !

Well, too late to turn back now. I tried to keep a sense of dignity as we climbed the stairs. It didn't seem to put any strain on him, all the while I'd been living here for years, and was still dying inside. Catching my breath as gracefully as I could, I unlocked my door. Zardoz came running at me, agressively rubbing himself agaisnt my boots, screaming bloody murder, or, in that case, famine.

“You have a... cat”, Vlad stated.

I had a short laugh as I picked up the protesting beast. “What, are you allergic ?”

“They... Don't like me.”

He looked at the animal with some sort of defiance.

“Well, this one hates everyone, don't feel like it's personal.”

He stood at the door, nearly taking up all the space of the frame. Holding the cat in my arms gave me courage, as I felt his low purr against my hands. I took a few steps back, and had a curteous bow.

“Voivode Vlad Dracula Tepes, me and this cat welcome you into our home.”

He smiled, and stepped in.

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Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock @thebeautyofdisorder @festering-queen @paracosmfantasy

[laceymorganwrites]

She-Hulk and Explosion Boy pt.2

Word Count: 1,230

Pairing: Bakugo x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: School starts and you and Bakugo warm up to each other

The start of school wasn´t as bad as you thought it would be.

Your class was good enough, meaning nobody actively mocked and insulted you, which was a nice change.

Bakugo was in your class too, for him that meant more competitions with you, which meant him getting stronger.

You did intrigue him in some other way too, a way that he had yet to figure out. It was the way you stood up to him and weren´t afraid to speak up and talk back to him.

He liked that very much, he liked it that you weren´t afraid of him like all the others.

Other always treated him with respect, sure, but it was respect out of fear, they all wanted to please him and agreed to everything he said and did because they didn´t want to put Bakugo´s wrath upon them.

Bakugo was sick and tired of it, to a point where he avoided people.

Well, then you came along.

You were a challenge to him, but not only that.

He felt like something connected the two of you but he still had to figure out what it was.

Class started with showing off your strength again, there were several sports that you had to participate in to show what you could do.

As it was just like the usual PE class, it was no problem for you.

Bakugo and you were competing again as to who could reach higher goals.

While you were annoyed with him at the entrance exam, you were actually glad that he was competing with you right now.

Usually you were quite laid back and even lazy with your quirk, but the competition pushed you and made you improve.

You were thankful for Bakugo in that sense.

Everyday life in school wasn´t that different from middle school, not that you knew about that.

It had all the normal subjects and the hero course only had additional training sessions and hero training, that meant beating fake villains, protecting civilians, saving hostages and strategy.

And your class wasn´t so bad either, everyone seemed nice.

Sometimes too nice even, it was weird.

You weren´t used to such a warm class climate.

You even made friends with Mina, or she made friends with you.

Since you never had to make friends with someone, you didn´t know how to approach the matter, but luckily Mina did most of the work for you, being the social butterfly.

She was really nice, you had a lot in common and could talk for hours.

In breaks you would always hang around and even after school when you didn´t have much homework you met and played some video games, listened to music or just talked through the night.

You found yourself adapting to your new social situation rather quickly, you were glad not to be alone anymore.

Yet there still were some times where you felt terribly lonely and like the monster others called you.

“Hey, (Y/N)! We´re gonna study for the test next week, you wanna come?” Mina smiled at you, as she passed you in the hallway.

“Who´s we?” you asked, you still didn´t warm up to everyone in class, it was hard with some people.

You missed a lot of subjects from middle school so you were rather weak in the normal lessons, but Mina helped you out and you were back on track now.

But you didn´t want everyone to know that, you didn´t want to seem dumb and expose your weakness in front of everybody.

“Oh, just us, you know. Our friend group, Bakugo, Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari, me and you” she listed off the people casually as if it was general knowledge that you were apparently friends with all of those people.

Bakugo and you never met outside of school, you merely pushed each other in PE.

As for the others, you only met them a handful of times, but that was only when you were out with Mina and they came along.

You wouldn´t really call yourselves friends, you were still too distant for that.

Of course you wanted to be friends with all of them, but it wasn´t easy for you to let other people in.

Some part of you always expected those people to be scared of you, so you still had that cold attitude as a self protection.

“I don´t know, Mina… I don´t know if I fit into your friend group” you told her honestly.

You sighed and sat down on the floor, the thought of all of them hanging out together made you feel glum and your heart sunk to your knees, you would never belong to such great, kind people.

And it was probably better this way, you didn´t want to make the others feel uncomfortable because of your presence.

“What are you talking about? You´re already in it” she tilted her head and frowned.

She didn´t really know about your fears, she couldn´t look inside your head, Mina always thought you were amazing and great, you could adapt to her friends as fast as she could.

Mina never thought you didn´t think of yourself as part of the friend group.

You scoffed, shaking your head.

“I´m not and you know it, nobody there wants to be my friend, they merely tolerate me cause they like you. I´m just the weird one you bring along” you mumbled, resting your head upon your knees.

“That´s not true and you know it!” Mina yelped, crossing her arms as a statement.

“What´s not true?” Bakugo strolled around the corner, he had just finished his training session.

“She doesn´t want to come study with us because she thinks she doesn´t fit into the friend group and is just the weird one I bring along” Mina groaned, repeating the absolute nonsense you sputtered.

“That´s bullshit. Besides, you´re fucking weird too, all of you are” he stated, to which you finally looked up.

You got up and stared at him blankly before yelling at him.

“Did you go to the gym without me?!” you pointed your finger at him angrily.

Bakugo had the decency to look semi guilty.

“Maybe...” he grumbled, looking at you apologetically.

“You fucking idiot! You said we´d go together!” you continued your shouting.

“I know, I´m sorry, okay? I forgot” Bakugo didn´t forget. He just wanted to prove to you that he could do two sets, he didn´t think you´d catch him.

“Whatever, I wasn´t in the mood to do sports today anyway” you gave in.

“Ahem...I don´t mean to interrupt, but what the hell do you mean: we´re all weird? You know there are nicer ways to say that, right? And you could actually support me for once and help me in my argument instead of being the usual asshole you!” Mina joined in on your shouting.

“For fuck´s sake, Mina! Maybe (Y/N) just doesn´t like big crowds, she´s obviously not used to them so just leave her alone! She needs some time to adjust, I don´t think throwing her into our friend group right away is the way to go about it. And if she needs help studying she can still ask me” Bakugo defended you, in his own weird way.

He was right, you would come around, you just needed some time to open up.

“She can also speak for herself, you know?” you coldly stated, crossing your arms.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Resurgence

A Jacksepticeye Fanfiction

Part Sixteen: Enough is Enough

First Part | Previous | Next

Summary: Marvin’s run away AGAIN, so the others have to go find him. And while out looking, Schneep has an...encounter.

(FINALLY! This has been in my drafts so long that it actually still has one of those horizontal lines that break up text. You know, the ones Tumblr got rid of for no discernible reason. Anyway, it’s been a long time, I’ve written it, it’s not perfect, but it’s done. Hope you guys like it! And hope it’s worth the wait djkafhd)

“Is he insane?!”

“Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re all losing it.”

“Chase this is not a time for jokes.” Schneep reread Marvin’s note for a third time before crumpling it into a ball and pitching it at the nearest wall. “Aaugh! ‘Safer without him,’ that is bullshit! If anything, we would be safer with him here. But no, he decides to go ahead and fucking leave the moment we get him back!”

That’s something he would do, JJ remarked wryly.

“But it is not something he should do,” Schneep grumbled, folding his arms.

I never said it was, JJ pointed out. And, because it is something he shouldn’t do, I propose we undo what he’s done.

“You mean...go find him?” Chase laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, last time he disappeared, it was only because of luck, and maybe Sam, that we found him again. How are we going to find him this time?”

Well, we need to try, don’t we? JJ signed. We can’t just let him go out into the city on his own, especially not when you-know-who is active again.

“Jameson is right,” Schneep said, pacing about the floor. “We must find him again, or risk losing two of our friends. Does anyone know places he likes to visit?”

Chase shook his head. “Nothing’s really coming to mind. Jays?”

JJ had taken out his pocket watch and was fiddling with the chain. He stopped to sign, He might have found some of the underground magic circles while he was away.

“Wait, wait, did you just...did you just say ‘underground magic gatherings’?” Chase repeated.

JJ nodded. Of course. You didn’t think Marvin was the only magician, did you? There are many of them, and I’m sure that, given his runaway status at the time, Marvin would have been attracted to those pockets that gather on the edge of society, where many frequent.

“Well then, how do we find these places?” Schneep asked, stopping his pacing, eyes glued to JJ.

I’m...not quite sure. The signs were slow, hesitant. There are a variety of hidden places to find, and they could be in any location, not to mention they could constantly shift in order to stay out of unkind eyes. We might have best luck just wandering around until we see something off.

“We can do that, then,” Schneep said definitively. “Come on, no time like the present.” He started toward the door.

“Doc, wait,” Chase called. “This...this is a little fast, isn’t it?”

Schneep halted. He whirled on Chase. “What? Are you saying we should waste time twadeling our thumbs?! Is Marvin not your friend too?!”

“I didn’t say that at all!” Chase protested. “I’m just saying we might need a more definitive plan! I know that’s rich, coming from me, but you know what? You’re always saying that it’s no good to anyone if we collapse from exhaustion or hunger or something, and I dunno about you but my head is still kinda fuzzy and I want to get it un-fuzzed before we do anything crazy.”

At least get something to eat first, JJ suggested.

Schneep stared at the apartment door for a few silent moments before concluding that he was, indeed, pretty hungry and it might be a bad idea to go search the city on an empty stomach. But god, was he considering doing it anyway.

“Henrik...” Chase said, a warning in his voice. “Do you need me to Vulcan nerve pinch you?”

“No, no, I...you are right,” Schneep sighed. “But we are having a very quick breakfast.”

That’s fair, JJ signed.

An hour later, the three of them were out on the streets of the city, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious that could help. That wasn’t exactly easy, though, as none of them knew what they were looking for. Jameson implied that he had a rough idea, but when pressed by the others he refused to answer. Given the details of his past, they could only assume talking about this knowledge would bring up bad memories.

They decided to start near the edges of the city and work their way in, figuring that Marvin would want to get as far away as possible if he was really sure that getting away from them was the right thing to do. From there, it was a matter of where they wanted to start. The northern section of the city was remote, but also fairly dangerous, so they decided to skip there. The western and southern sections were mostly residential, with the south being a little more suburban, and that meant lots of people around who could see someone in a mask and get suspicious, so odds were Marvin might not have headed there. Not to mention that JJ and Chase actually lived in those parts. So that left the east, which was mostly industrial and electrical, and also pretty remote. They’d start there, then gradually look in other places.

“Hope this works,” Chase muttered, glancing around the short concrete buildings. In the distance loomed a structure of wires and pylons. “I think we’re trespassing right now.”

“Well, if we are, there is no signs of anyone who could see us,” Schneep pointed out.

“Are no signs,” Chase corrected absentmindedly. “Jays, anything stand out?”

JJ slowly shook his head. In truth, he looked a little disoriented. He’d caught on fairly quickly to the everyday modern technology, but this new array of electrical equipment was confusing. He couldn’t tell what was out of place if it all looked strange to him.

Schneep growled. “This is taking forever! And there is still the rest of the city! We must go faster!” Accordingly, he sped up a bit.

“Uhh...” Chase sped up to be even with him, JJ walking a little bit behind the two. “Doc, aren’t you worried we might miss something? Or get tired?”

“I am not getting tired! And if you two would rather take time when Marvin could be in any sort of trouble, then you are free to do so, but not me!” And he broke into a run.

He didn’t know where he was going. He could hear Chase calling after him, but he didn’t look back, and he didn’t stop. Eventually, he couldn’t hear him anymore. And when he realized that, that was when he slowed down. He...hadn’t actually thought he’d be able to outrun those two. He must’ve been faster than he expected. Or Chase and Jameson were slower than he expected, also possible.

Somehow, he’d ended up in what looked like an area for producing electricity. There were wires and pylons and coils everywhere. Schneep was sort of confused as to how he got here...didn’t these sort of places usually have walls and fences? Had he run through an open gate and not notice? Well...he did sort of forget to pay attention to things when he got angry. And once he thought that, he realized just how mad he was. Not at Chase and Jameson, not at Marvin either. There wasn’t even really anything to set him off, why had he gotten so upset that he felt he needed to run away?

Well, now it was fading, and now he felt awful for leaving the other two behind. Schneep sighed. He’d have to go back and find them, but he wasn’t sure where they were. Guess he could text them...he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, quickly unlocking it and opening up a new text. Quickly, he typed, I am sorry I ran like that. I was not thinking straight. Where are you? I am in a electrical generation area, I can come find you or you can find me.

While he was waiting for a response, he looked around the area a bit more. He should probably leave anyway. Who knew what could go wrong in a place like this?

The little text alert noise sounded. He looked back down at the screen, only to find that the response made no sense. It was all garbled letters. Was Chase trying to type while running again? But no. As he watched, the letters changed, the message shortening and morphing but remaining just as nonsensical. Until it finally resolved into a single question:

Did you miss ḿ͟é?

Schneep shrieked and immediately dropped his phone. It landed in the gravel covering the ground with a crunch. He backed away until he felt his back hit the base of one of the pylons. For a while, he could only stare at the phone from where it lay on the ground. He could feel his heart about to pound out of his ribcage. Maybe it hadn’t really happened. Maybe he’d imagined it.

Against his better judgement, he cautiously walked back over. He stopped some ways away, and instead of picking the phone back up, he leaned forward and peered at the screen. The message was still there. As he watched, the message deleted itself like someone was pressing the backspace button, to be replaced by a new one: What’s wrong, mein lieber Artz? Shouldn’t you be used to this by now? It’s been ten months after all.

He made a sound halfway between a gasp and a strangled squeak, then covering his mouth in shock. No, no no no, this was a trick, it was—he was lying! This couldn’t be just another illusion. He looked around. It was real. It was really here, he could feel the slight breeze, see the sunlight reflecting off far-off windows, hear the quiet electrical whine—

The sound that was always there, it never stopped, always a faint electrical humming or whining, only broken by the crackle of static—

“No!” He covered his ears, hands pressing so hard it almost hurt. That sound didn’t mean anything, this place generated electricity, of course that sound would be there. Even—even if that place had a similar sound, it meant nothing! It didn’t mean that he was still...

“But d̷oe̴sn̶'t it?”

At the sound of the voice inside his head, he yelled, spinning around in a circle to see if he was near. There was nothing he could see, but there was a slight flicker in the corner of his eyes, a shadow of a smiling face. He turned and turned and turned but could never see him fully. His feet were kicking up gravel like crazy, but all he knew was that he—was that Anti was laughing at him.

“You really thought I’d just l͢et ̷yo͡u ̀go? Or did you think you were clever enough to get away? It’s been fun watching you scramble about, but now it is time for the truth to come out.”

“You are lying!” he screamed. The sound echoed through the empty area, bouncing off the metal pylons and coils. And as if he’d poured all his adrenaline-fueled fear into that yell, he fell to his knees, not minding how the gravel bit into his legs, and wrapped his arms around himself. This was real. This was real. It had to be real.

“It doesn’t ‘have to be’ anything.”

Schneep flinched at the words that responded to his thoughts. He looked around, and when he faced forward again he saw a hint of a shadow. Just barely there, could easily be overlooked as a trick of the light, unless you knew better. Unless you could make out the silhouette of a person grinning down at you.

There was a trick here somewhere. But was that trick in the here and now, with Anti trying to fool him into thinking it’s all a lie? Or had the entire past week or so been nothing but an illusion? Was he still in that awful place? Were the others really with him, or was he alone? His breathing was quickening, and tears were filling his eyes. He didn’t know. He couldn’t tell, he couldn’t tell, he couldn’t tell if it was fake or real, what was he supposed to do? He needed help, he needed someone—

Someone had been there before. Last time he’d had a breakdown like this, someone had been there to help him pick up the pieces. And all the times since then, there was always someone around to ground him when he started to spiral. What had their advice been?

Start by breathing slowly, controlling it manually. Focus on something besides the thoughts in your head. In...out...in...out...And then find something solid to notice. Like the feeling of the gravel beneath his knees. The breeze. The sun, high in the sky.

This would usually be followed up with reminders that he’s safe now, but...that couldn’t really be true, could it? Not when he could clearly see the shadow in front of him. Staring at him. Waiting for something.

And as he stared back, he slowly realized the tears were still threatening his eyes. No more than a few had slipped out. Was...was that was he was waiting for? For him to fall entirely to pieces? Of course it was. That was what Anti was all about. Tearing people apart and smiling while he did it.

Schneep slowly stood up, keeping his eyes on the shadow the whole time. He thought he somehow...sensed that the smile was fading, even though he couldn’t see anything in this basic outline. “Get. Away,” he said in a low voice.

The shadow’s head tilted sideways. “And what if I don’t? What are you going to do about it?”

“It is not about what I am going to do, is about what I am not going to do.” He stepped forward. “And I am not going to break apart for your fucking amusement. I do not care what you say, I do not care what you do, I do not fucking care about your attempts to make me afraid!” His voice had risen to a shout at this point. “Get away from me! You do not get to laugh at my tears anymore!”

For a moment, Anti’s shadow was still, unmoving. Then he spoke. “Perhaps for now. You have a bigger part to play, d̨o͢c̀tor͟.” And the shadow faded away, leaving nothing but an echoing “I’l͟l s̢e͢e̴ y҉ou̢ a͞ga͝in.”

Schneep was left alone. He felt like he’d just run a mile, heart pounding and surprisingly out of breath. But he also felt...relieved.

“Henrik!”

He spun around at the sound of the voice. Chase and JJ were weaving their way in between the various pylons toward him. “Oh! Hello!” He walked toward them, meeting them.

“Dude, what happened?” Chase asked. “You never responded to my text. I mean, you texted me first, you know, but when I asked you for more details you never answered.” He glanced behind Schneep. “Did you...drop your phone?”

“...ah.” Schneep wasn’t too keen on picking that back up, but he guessed he had to. He quickly walked back over, grabbed it, and checked the screen. Chase’s response text was now clearly visible. He hurriedly tucked it into his pocket as he returned to the other two. “There...is a reason for that.” He took a deep breath, looking both Chase and JJ in the eyes briefly. “He was here.”

Chase gaped, a horrified expression on his face. JJ’s eyes widened, and he launched immediately into signing. Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Do you need any help? Are you...okay? The second time asking the question, it was clear JJ was talking about more than just being physically alright.

Schneep gave a small smile. “I am fine. Really,” he insisted, seeing the doubt on the other two’s faces. “I was having some trouble, but I managed to sort it all out.” His eyes hardened. “He is not going to get that satisfaction.” Never again. It didn’t matter what happened, he refused to give Anti what he wanted.

Chase and JJ exchanged glances. If you insist... JJ signed.

“I do insist. In fact, I am sorry to you two about running away. I do not know what I was thinking.”

“You were thinking that you’re worried and frustrated, so you turned it into anger because that’s the easy thing for you, and when we said anything that just made it worse because it wasn’t making the worry go away, so you decided to just get away from the situation altogether.” Chase said this whole spiel in a voice that was almost monotone. He cracked a smile at Schneep’s astonished face, though. “What? Dude, I’ve known you for years now, I’ve figured out how you work.”

Schneep shook his head, laughing softly. “Okay, okay. Now I think we should continue with the search. Maybe in a...different area of the city.”

“Good idea. C’mon, let’s go.” 

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

It was starting to get into late afternoon, and the three of them hadn’t seen any sign of Marvin yet. The three of them decided to stop and take a break for food. They settled down at a little restaurant that was close to the industrial district, but still within the confines of the bustling business part of the city. None of them recognized it or had ever been there before, but it was the nearest place to eat.

“People are staring at us...” Chase remarked, looking around the restaurant.

They probably think we’re triplets, JJ signed, shrugging.

“Probably...” Chase’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why do we look so much alike anyways?”

“Genetics are strange,” Schneep remarked. “Did you know that every person has seven people in the world who look just like them?”

“And...what, most of us just happened to meet each other?”

“Precisely. It is a strange coincidence, but that is all it is.” Schneep’s voice was firm, shutting down all attempts at arguing.

JJ, however, was not fooled. You seem awfully ready to convince us that a coincidence is, indeed, all it is. Is something the matter?

Schneep leaned back in his chair and sighed, staring out the window their table was sitting next to. “There were...many strange things he said.” The words came out slowly. “Very many...unusual things about how our world works. I think he said them just to torment me, but...they have a habit of sticking around.”

For a moment, everyone was silent. The air seemed a bit heavier than it was before, weighed down with unspoken things. “And...he talked about why we all look the same?” Chase asked softly. “Obviously you don’t have to answer, but if you want to...”

“I feel safe in telling you that he did,” Schneep said slowly, looking back at the others. “About us, and him, and...and Jack.” The last word was whispered.

“Henrik, you’re kinda...you look uncomfortable,” Chase said. “Why don’t we talk about something else? Like, uhhhh, the weather! Let’s talk about the weather.”

Schneep laughed. “Yes, it is very fine weather. You could not think of anything better?”

“Gimme a break, I’m not creative!” Chase fell silent as he listened to a voice call out his name. “Oh, sounds like our order’s ready. I might need help carrying the food, either of you volunteer?” Schneep shot a pair of death daggers at him with his eyes. “Alright then. JJ?”

Jameson wasn’t paying attention. He was staring with some intent out the window.

“Jays? You alright?” Chase asked.

When there was still no answer, Schneep joined in. “Jamie, is there something concerning you?”

Do the two of you see that shop opposite this one? JJ asked. Chase and Schneep looked out the window. The other shop was a clothing store, and it looked closed. In fact, it looked like it had been closed for a long, long time. The display window was sprinkled with dust. Is it just me, or does it have a rather...unusual symbol on its awning?

Chase squinted. “I...guess? It’s just a design, bro.”

JJ shook his head, suddenly bouncy with excitement. No, I recognize that. It’s a rune! Not a very common one, but a rune nonetheless.

“And you mean to say...that this ‘rune’ is magic?” Schneep asked. “That shop might be one of these hidden places we were trying to find?”

Possibly. Runes are always magical, or magickal! JJ spelled out the two variations of the word so there could be no confusion. And it’s worth taking a crack at it. We don’t have anything to lose and a lot to gain.

“Huh. Well, why not?” Chase shrugged. “But can we do that after lunch? Or, I guess it’s actually ‘linner’ at this point.” He laughed to himself.

Yes, yes, nothing wrong with filling up first. It’d most likely be problematic to rush into a magician’s lair on an empty stomach.

“Well. I’m gonna go get out food then.” Chase scooted his chair back and stood up. “Don’t mind me. Carrying it back to the table all by myself. All alone.”

“Good luck with that, my friend,” Schneep smirked. JJ giggled silently.

“Oh, screw you two.” Chase flipped them a friendly gesture before walking away, leaving the others snickering behind their hands.

He really should be more polite with those hands of his, JJ signed.

“Indeed.” Schneep stared out the window once more.

Maybe this trip wouldn’t be a total waste. Even if they found nothing, he felt that something was gained.

[boogiewrites]

A Girl Walks Into A Bar

Chapter 1

Characters: Declan Harp x Bella (OFC)

Word Count: 6400+

Summary: Frontier Modern AU. Declan is a bar owner and local urban legend with a reputation he’d like to leave in the past. Bella is a rough around the edges, low key sweetheart that isn’t from his part of town. After meeting with the help of some bad luck and perhaps a touch of fate, how far will their undeniable chemistry take them until their histories catch up with them?

Warnings/Tags: Language

A/N: Currently watching Frontier, love it, felt a burst of creative ideas and I just went with it. First time writing for this character. As always, shout out to @jaegeeeeer who told me to watch the show and enables my bad behavior. <3 

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

My Masterlist. 

You'd had a bad day. Murphy's Law was created for the sole purpose of explaining the day you'd had. Your car is fucked, sitting in a shop currently as you just have to wait for a phone call about the state it's in and what limb you'll have to sell to afford the work. The bus was late, the coffee machine at work wasn't working and you'd dealt with assholes pretty much everywhere you'd went.

The bratty 16-year-old and her father that were in the studio that day had certainly earned the not affectionate in the least title. The Rolex wearing father, not attentive, blue tooth headset and nose stuck to a phone screen for the entirety of any communication you had with. He'd first insulted you, telling you to go fetch them coffee, tossing you a twenty while his clearly in need a smack and a therapist daughter barked a nonsensical order to you. You didn't go to Starbucks, you didn't know what the fuck any of this meant. You eat it anyway, as your boss is sighing and trying to keep the situation under control, seeing your known temper rising to the surface. You turn with an annoyed nod to leave, the father then smacking you on the ass on the way out. If your boss hadn't grabbed your arm, he would've been dealing with a broken pair of glasses and hopefully a cracked eye socket to accompany it.

You return from your errand, where of course, the barista was a dick. Still feeling insulted, seething as you see every switch and knob has been messed with in your absence. You hear the pterodactyl screech of this spoiled child from the booth, ignoring her while you fix what she's fucked up. Her father rushing you and claiming he was paying for this time and you were milking it.

After fixing others mistakes, you have to deal with the voice of the girl. You play it back over and over for her, she screams it sounds wrong, that you've fucked it up and it's your fault and you don't expect anything less from her at this point.

"Well it sounds wrong because you can't sing." you finally state matter of factly. You see your bosses hand go to her forehead, mouthing the word fuck.

The pterodactyl screeching does not falter, you are unphased despite the father now being tugged by his sleeve to you in the booth by his tantrum-throwing daughter, your boss walking in behind them.

"This is fucking insulting and I'm not doing it. This is a fucking studio for artists, not the next god damned Rebecca Black and her absentee fucking father! This is a place where we make MUSIC, we make ART here! Don't fucking insult my work here with this bullshit! I'm not here to cater to this fuckin' blue tool wearin' mother fucker and his piss baby of a kid!" you shout and you do not care. You started as an intern here, you worked your way up and you knew your value. No one else knew the technical side of things AND knew how to play instruments. Your boss knows this and knows she needs you as you both ignore the shouting from the two fuck heads who are still crying about things being unfair and unprofessional.

"I know. We need the money, I'm sorry. Why don't yo-"

"NEED THE MONEY?! BULLSHIT!" you shout, "If you needed the money so bad maybe don't go indulge your post-divorce crisis with plastic surgery and a new car CeeCee!" you grab your coat and angrily put it on.

"Just take the rest of the day off, Bella. This is clearly out of hand and no one can work like this." she says, not even mad at your words, you were never known to hold back your thoughts and knowing each other for years now your comments didn't phase her. You were a very passionate woman and it was all part of your process she'd quickly learned. Can't be as knowledgeable about music and art as you are without having a burning passion inside you for it. Unfortunately for you, this fire extended outside of your work and hobbies sometimes and made you a bit of a hot head. But at this point in your fuming, you were growing tired, so you cut it short.

"You're fucking right!" you shout as you slam the door behind you. "Take the rest of the day off," you mumble and mock her in an immature way but man, you were pissed. It was already after 5pm what rest of the fucking day was left! You're reminded of your car being gone as you stand in your reserved spot, staring at the freshly fallen snow that lay where it should. "Fuck." you groan, pulling on your gloves and tugging your hat over your wavy dark auburn hair. You had to walk to the bus stop and all you wanted was to go home and get drunk, so you in your winter wear, jeans and big black boots over them, a fleece lined leather jacket over your hoodie, all tied up cozy with a bow and a beanie. At least you'd checked the weather before you left the house so you were prepared for the walk.

You hear the sound of music as you walk down a street you'd driven past mindlessly, countless times. You're on the outskirts of the small community, outlying the city where you lived in a duplex, and much to your delight, you had no upstairs neighbors currently. No one to bitch about your music being played too loud or your guitar playing well into the night. As you round the corner, just a few blocks away from the, you're assuming, still shouting assholes, you let out a sigh as you recognize a guitar riff. It immediately sends the impulses you need to your muscles, your shoulders lowering finally from their tension. You've reached the source of the sound, you look up to the sign above the dark stone and wood front of the...bar...it would seem. You'd been past this place so many times and never stopped to look.  "The Trading Post." you say to yourself, biting your blushed from the cold lips. You see the welcome neon advertising beer and you sigh. You stand there for a few moments, considering just stopping in here, they were playing Zeppelin after all...how bad could it be?

You must've been wearing your foul mood all over your face because one of the men standing in a circle of other men, all wearing biker vests turns to watch you go in.

"You ain't lookin' for trouble are ya?" he asks, eyebrow raised.

You show no sign of intimidation. "I'm going in to drink to make myself forget about the fuckin' trouble." you say, moving your gloved hand to the door.

"I ain't never seen you here before."

"That'd be because I've never been here before."

"Yeah..." he looks you up and down in judgment and not in a sexual way, which you're relieved by. "But I've been told to keep out the riff-raff."

"Well no offense but one might think you guys are that riff-raff." you say with a stare and an attitude. One of the other men laughs.

"What's your name?" his eyes narrow.

"What's yours?" you ask with the same swing of your chin.

"They call me Southie." he answers.

"They call me Bella." you nod back, extending your hand and he looks at it in a surprised way but takes it, a gentle shake.

"Well don't go in there to fuck with no one, especially not Declan now, you hear? He doesn't take too kindly to folks running their mouths much."

"Who the fuck is Declan?" you ask. All the men laugh.

"You must not be from around here." he grins.

"I work a few blocks back, but I don't live in this neighborhood, no." you explain.

"Ah. Well..." he huffs out a laugh. "If you've not heard of him, you'll still recognize him when you see him." he nods and the other guys chuckle again.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" you ask with a shake of your head.

"Just let the girl go get a fuckin' drink, man, she's clearly in a bad mood, just let the little firecracker go." he laughs. You narrow your eyes at him, not sure if that was a compliment or not.

"Alright." he shrugs. "Go on, get in there baditude." he says with a nod of his head towards the door.

You pull it open, your eyes don't have to adjust much because the lighting is dim, just as a bar should be in your opinion. There are multi-colored lights in strings across the corners of the ceiling, neon signs placed with no rhyme or reason on wood paneled and brick walls. You look down the line of booths along the wall, all an old green color that only existed in the 70's you're pretty sure, worn and patched up with duct tape below the table tops with carved words of love and hate on top. To your right, there is a long wooden bar, a beautiful old monster of a thing. Looked like it'd been there longer than the building and the building looked very old itself. There's a faint smell of mildew, smoke and cheap cologne in the air. Had you just by chance walked into the dive bar you'd always wanted to call your local? When you catch sight of the man behind the counter, you know you have.

His back is turned to you, even from the doorway you can tell he's tall. As you walk forward, pulling your gloves off and stuffing them into your pockets he just gets bigger and broader the closer you get. A clearly well loved, thin t-shirt is all he's wearing in the dead of winter. You suppose maybe the past the shoulders mess of waves and curls that fade from almost black to a lighter brown towards the ends is keeping him warm. Or perhaps the lights that dotted the line of the bar were, some covered with colored gels, some broken, but you found it very charming nonetheless.

You're reaching for your zipper as he turns, guessing he's heard the door shut behind you. He turns as if he's expecting someone else, his head tilting just slightly as you continue walking. An intimidating face to match his stature greets you. His thick beard, just left of unkempt sits course, a full lip buried in the midst of it peaks out at you. His complimentary to his olive skin and dark coloration of the brown with yellow coloring eyes look over you under a heavy brow and hooded lids.  His almost Disney villain like naturally arched brows raise at your appearance in the bar. The act of unzipping your jacket while his eyes are on you makes your face flush. Or perhaps it was the heat in here. Hell, it could be both.

"What can I get ya?" he says in a deep but friendly voice.

"Uhhh..." you mumble for a moment, eyes looking over the bar back full of a plethora of bottles, some you've never heard of and for your Irish half, this was surprising as you'd known your fair share of alcohol in your life. "You have any real ale?" you ask with a wrinkle of your nose as he's looking to throw a towel somewhere out of sight to you.

His handsome face looks back up at you, this time a big grin appears, which you respond to with a few slow blinks. "We certainly do, babe." he says with a nod of his head, clearly supportive of your choice. Your eyes narrow as he turns at the use of the pet name. But you weren't getting a creepy vibe off this guy, but you were still withholding judgment. And as if your questions were meant to be answered, a man and woman walk into the bar, you feel the cold air move down and brush past your face.

"Oh hey, babydoll! Wasn't sure you'd show." he says, grabbing a box and walking it around the bar towards the man with the small woman.

"Hey Declan." he greets him, he picks her feet up off the floor with the entrapping hug he gives her. It makes the corner of your mouth want to pull back at the kindness behind the gesture. Looks like baby was just a word to him and part of you is grateful. "I'm running late sorry. I can't stay but I know I needed to get this before the morning."

"Otherwise you'd have me up at dawn waiting for you tomorrow to come to pick these up." he grins.

"It's like you know me sweetie." she grins up at him. He gives a hearty slap to shoulder of the man with her in greeting.

"You kids have fun then. That spots great for camping out up there. Just keep a lookout for bears." he says with a point of his finger at them both.

"Yes I know." she nods. "I googled everything, we'll be fine. Food up off the ground and everything, Got it."

"Good girl." he says patting her head, something she frowns insincerely at.

He returns to behind the bar, reaching back into a standing fridge and popping the top off a bottle before he slides it to you. "This one's my favorite." he says with a nod and a smile, your fingertips examine the green glass in your hands. He moves to shut the door to the room he'd retrieved the box from for the now gone, girl. You settle in on the stool, taking your jacket and hat off, fluffing your hair with one hand as he comes back. Your lips to the mouth of the bottle as his eyebrows raise at you in question.

"Shit man, that's good." your eyebrows raise as you look at the bottle. You hear a small grunt of laugh from him. "This looks like what those people just walked out with."

"Nah. Same people brew it, same label, different brew."

"Tastes like...fuckin' cherries or something." you say smacking your lips. "They must ferment it differently." you say, basically to yourself but it catches his attention. You knew your ale.

"Yeah they ferment it at a higher temperature, makes it have that fruity taste to it." he educates you further.

"This local?" your voice inflects with curiosity, meeting his eyes with yours.

"Yeah. But you aren't are you?" he says with that same warm expression.

You shake your head. "No." you take another drink. "I live closer to the city but I work just a few blocks over at the little studio on the corner." you explain.

"That sounds cool. I didn't think I'd seen you around before." his eyes narrow in thought.

"It can be but not today." you shake your head. "I've driven by this place every day on my way to work and never stopped before. With my car in the shop and after the shit day I've had the appeal of alcohol and Zeppelin I heard from outside earlier I just couldn't resist." you shrug and take another bigger drink.

"Well, I'm glad you did. I'm Declan." he extends his hand, you're struck with the size of his arms as one swings closer to you.

"Thanks. Bella." you say with a more friendly tone. Now you weren't strangers. "This your bar?" you ask.

"She's mine alright." he nods proudly. Your eyes wander down the long thin space of the booths and bar, as he walks to the end, and to your surprise he walks over to you, pulling a stool from between his legs and sitting next to you, elbow propped up on the bar. You see a larger room lies past, it remains dark and you can't tell much. But the warmth you feel coming off of his large body, now daunting next to yours pulls your attention from your curiosity of it. He scratches his head, scrunching his face, you look up at him from under your brow as his biceps appearance throws you more off than you'd like to admit. You see he's in light washed, slightly baggy jeans, holes, and scuffs galore, just as you'd expect from what you'd seen of his upper half. His boots have much the same appearance as him, sturdy and worn. "What's brought you to me and my humble second home tonight, Bell?" he asks, head tilted, eyes matched to yours, the laid-back vibe he had put you at ease and you welcomed it as it and the ale warmed you up from the inside out.

"Oh I've had myself a fucking DAY, Declan." you say with a roll of your eyes. He seems to like the use of his name. He likes the way it sounds, seeming to come from you so easily and without any loaded backstory attached.

"Sounds like it." he says with a lazy smile.

"I don't want to just sit here and bitch at you while you're working." you say shaking your head, not wanting to take the entirety of the man's attention.

"It's a weeknight sweetheart, do I look busy?" he asks with a smirk. Your big green eyes move around the bar.

"You've got a point," you say with a nod, taking another drink. "If you want to hear me bitch I mean...I'll sure as hell oblige." you say with a shrug, and he smiles, chin raised to show he's listening.

"Well, it all started..." you begin.  You're about to get into the girl touching the recording equipment when a seemingly harmless middle-aged balding man bops around the corner of the back room you can't see.

"Gimmie a loooooong neck!" he shouts, drunk but not angry.

He turns with a frown of apology to you, which was needless but you appreciated it. "Get it yourself Gary, you've been drinking the same thing for 20 years." he shouts back, looking back at you will an animated roll of his eyes. When his eyes fall back on you, you're smiling. The first smile he'd seen since you came in. He knew he wanted to see more of them from you. "Don't mind him. You were saying something about a rejected sweet sixteen applicant?" he grins.

He listens, and intently, eyes always on you every time you look up from the bartop or from your bottle. He raises and slaps the bar top. "That's it girly." he says, moving back behind the bar again, "On the house." he states, putting another bottle in front of you.

"Wha-?" you ask with a wrinkled nose he finds charming.

"Your drinks tonight. On the house." he says as if it's obvious.

"Uh..." you stutter and show your surprise. "That's very kind of you but-"

"Nope. I see a dollar of your money and I'm not giving you any more of that." he grins, pointing to the bottle.

Damn, he was nice, you thought, a subtle frown on your face as he turns to reach for a bottle with a stopper in the top, sitting two shot glasses in front of you. Damn, he was really fucking nice.

"Christ, dude you giving me Jameson too?" your eyes are wide and you take a deep breath as he takes the glass in his hand, you mirror the action. "My ancestors applaud the choice." you say with a chuckle that he returns.

"Oh you're Irish?" his chin lowers and one eyebrow raises.

"Half yeah." you give a quick nod.

"Oh well then get the fuck outta here." he manages to get out without sputtering with laughter.

Your face scrunches up and you let out a louder laugh, your shoulders moving with it. "To..." you pause to think for a moment. "To this hangover not killing me tomorrow." you say with a wide smile he's thankful to see as proof that your mood is improving.

He nods, you tap your glasses on the bar top and shoot them back. "Won't think less of me for drinking on the job will ya?" he says with a smack of his lips.

"It's your fucking bar, man do whatever you want, who am I gonna tell?" you smirk.

So time passes and the drinks pass with it. People come in and out of the bar, you switch from stool to booth to pool table and back. You playfully argue about White vs Rob Zombie, as per the shirt you're wearing.

"At least I'm not Mr. Dad Rock over here, I bet you put on the B side of IV and give a girl a six pack and the panties just go FLYING don't they?" you say with a loud laugh he matches, both smacking at each other.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," he says with a sigh, wiping his face as his eyes started watering from the goofiness of your banter through the night. "Sound a bit salty about it, to be honest." he teases.

You snort and smack his knee, "I might be speaking from both." you admit, a laugh that grows and you shut your eyes with it. "Who says you can't learn from your mistakes?" you say with a goofy shrug.”Even if it takes it a few times to stick.”

At this point in the night there are only two other people, as you're wiping the laughing tears from your eyes you notice this, then your phone lights up and you see the time. How the fuck was it past 10 already. You pick it up and look at it. "Fuck it's later than I thought." you say, pushing your hands on the countertop. You stand and feel his arm around you before you even realize your knees are knocking.

"Woah there, hun." he says, hands on your sides, eyes clearer than yours and concerned.

"Oh you went and got me fuckin' druuuunnnnnnnnk." you say in a deep scolding voice.

"In my defense, you did the drinkin' yourself there babe." he chuckles, still holding you steady as he stands.

"Never rode the bus wasted before. This'll be a fuckin' story to tell you next time I come in here for sure." Although he didn't think you wouldn't come back, he's glad to hear you were already thinking about it.

"You are not riding the bus like this, sweetheart. Not at this time of night." he says, shaking his head. "Not anytime actually. You baby foal. I thought you could handle your liquor."

"I can I've just been sitting for 12 hours straight haven't I? Makes the legs no worky." you explain with a frown and he laughs at you again.

"Whatever you gotta tell yourself." he pats your head, as you steady yourself with one hand.

"If I were shorter I'd be mad about that." you say. You hear him huff out a laugh as he moves behind the bar and retrieves a huge fur and leather coat. Guess he was human after all, he could be part sun god for all you knew. Maybe that's why those dudes warned you, a mere weak mortal walking into the den of god. Oh wow, you were drunk.

"You want a ride home hun?" he asks very politely with a hand on your shoulder. He was going to beg if he had to, he wasn't letting a nice girl like you alone whether you were drunk or not.

"Ugh," you say, putting your arms in your jacket in a fussy way. "It's like 20 minutes away Declan, I can't put you out like that I'll call an uber or somethin'."

"I close soon anyway, you aren't putting me out. Mike's here to lock up anyway." He didn't trust anyone else to make sure you got where you needed to go, feeling protective over you. Not many nice women came into his bar, he didn’t want you running away so soon. And of course he felt partially responsible for the amount of alcohol you'd consumed. He'd given you some shit over being drunk but damn did you hold it well. You weren't wobbly as you step away from the bar, bending at the knees and stretching your sides.

"Seeing as I've been seen here I don't think you'll murder me...Would you? Promise me you won't murder me and I'll let you take me home." you say with a nod, a smirk on your face as you shove one of your gloves into your mouth and pull the other on.

"I solemnly swear I will not murder you, Bell." he nods in a charming serious way.

You playfully narrow your eyes at him. "Cross your heart?" you say before a silly smile spreads across your face.

"And hope to die." he chuckles, moving his finger over his chest.

"Only a real fucking asshole would break one of those promises." you narrow your eyes again, tugging your hat on and moving towards the door. "And don't tell anyone but I don't think you're an asshole."

"Oh she's got compliments." he says with a fan of his face in jest at your words.

"Nah she's just drunk on Jameson." you laugh as he stands right behind you, reaching down to open the door. "Oh fuck." you whisper as the ice hits you immediately. It was snowing. And hard.

"Looks like you wouldn't be getting that bus tonight anyway." he says, pursing his lips, hand on your back as you make your way out the warm, sepia-toned confines of his bar and out into the crisp, cold biting air of the cool-toned night.

You make it a few steps before you slip, which for the state of the sidewalk, was not something that was to blame on your sobriety.

"Ya gotta be careful there babe." he says, catching you for the second time that night in his over sized hands, feeling their grip past the layers you wore.

"That isn't from being drunk, I promise. There's ice." you whine with wide, honest eyes looking up into his.

"I'm inclined to believe you." he says with another warm, whiskey toned softly spoken words.

"Wait. Can you drive? Are you drunk?" you suddenly recall. He laughs and puts a hand around your elbow, the other around your waist as you head down the sidewalk slowly.

"I am not." he says with a reassuring smile. "Takes a bit more to get me drunk than it does a little thing like you." he explains, no teasing in his voice. You suppose to him, everyone was little in comparison so you take no offense. ----- The weather's worse by the time he pulls into the small driveway you're extremely lucky to have in this part of town. The usual 20ish minute drive you'd promised had turned into almost an hour. You felt bad about him doing this. But then again you weren't used to the level of attention and thoughtfulness he seemed to naturally exude. He did drive slow but an untreated road no matter the speed was an obstacle in an of itself, even in a four-wheel drive.

"You...uhhh..." you start, your hand on the handle of the door of the truck. You purse your lips, brow furrowed as you force your eyes to meet him. "It's really shitty outside, do you want to come in for some coffee or tea or something before you try to get out in this?" your tone isn't suggestive, and he never took it that way.

"I-uh..." he begins the same as you. He didn't want you to think that him going inside had been part of this plan originally. Didn't want you to think he was that kind of guy. But you weren't being seductive, your face reading as more concerned than anything.  "Yeah." he nods. "At least wait to see if the salt trucks start running through anytime soon." he says, corner of his mouth pulled back.

"Alright. Good." you say, a half smile at him before you move to hop out of the truck. You're taking your time making your way up the walk as he comes up behind you, hand hovering behind you just in case. You dig into your pockets inside your jacket.

You switch a lamp on in a narrow hallway, he takes in the hardwood floors, a colorful long rug lays down the hallway that leads to a darkened archway.  You throw your keys on a hook, taking off your layers. "Lock the door behind you please," you say, toeing off your boots. "Hang that cool ass coat up before I try to steal it." you say with a pleasant smile.

"Oh thanks." he says with a proud little grin, following instructions. 

You lean across a doorway, slapping a wall and hitting a switch, multiple lamps come on in the living room. "Go ahead and make yourself comfy." you say, moving your face back to him before turning to walk down the hall. "And don't mind Robert, he won't bother you."

"Robert?" he asks, eyes looking over the aesthetically pleasing room, walls decorated in paintings, framed records, and hanging guitars.  You were getting more and more appealing the longer he stayed around which enticed him to see where the night would go. He opens his phone to the weather, to see just how bad it's supposed to get.

"Yeah my cat." you call from the kitchen. A light switches on, another doorway illuminated to him as he looks up to see you moving around an exposed brick and steel filled kitchen.

"You named your cat Robert?" he laughs, looking up, his eyes landing on a small bookcase, filled with vinyl. His lips form an excited O as he moves and kneels in front of the records.

"Yeah, he's a little weird. He likes to sit in the flower pot in the window all and do nothing like a plant." you explain, he hears a tap turn on, a fridge open and close.

"So you named him Robert?" he asks with a questioning laugh.

Your head appears are the corner. "Yeah. Robert Plant." you say with a straight face as his head tilts with an exasperated expression of 'really?' at you. A huge smart assed grin appears on your face.

"Clever girl." he says, looking back to the shelves.

"I'm starving Declan, you want something?" your hand rests on your rounded out hip.

"What ya got?" he asks, raising and moving to lean in the doorway as you stand before an open fridge.

"Well. I was thinking some grilled cheese and bacon or something."

"Fuck yes." he says in a drawn-out deep way that makes you immediately turn and laugh at him.

"My sentiments exactly." you say, moving to retrieve the ingredients and plant yourself in front of the stove. He's planted himself in front of the records, you hear noises of approval so you think his review of your taste will be good.

"Oh hey little man!" you hear him exclaim. Robert must've decided to appear. You hear the familiar meow. "Oh you're a cute, big-eyed thing aren't you?" you hear him coo, the sweet tone making you smile. Robert did have a bit of a mushed face, bless him, with big orange eyes that were a touch too googly for his fluffy calico body, but you loved him just the same. "What a funky little dude." you hear him praise the meowing ball of fluff. You laugh out loud at the comment.

"No one wanted to adopt him because he is a little disproportioned, the poor baby." you explain. "But I saw him and his scruffy little face and I just fell in love with him."

He smiles contently at the cat, your words just giving him more reason to like you, you were a low key sweetheart, he could tell that much in all the...six or so hours he'd known you. How was it only that much time? You felt like old friends already. The cat quickly loses interest and goes towards the delicious smell coming from the kitchen. He moves back to inspecting your musical compatibility, you were doing very well so far. Rock and Roll in general, a touch of harder, a touch of softer. Good bit of Motown and disco, some newer looking records that he didn't know of and this intrigued him.

You walk into the room, a plate in each hand, each holding two grilled cheese sandwiches, multicolored cheese and bacon chunks oozing out the side. "C'mon." you motion your head towards the couch.

"I knew that smell was making my mouth water but they look even better than they smell somehow." he says, licking his lips at the sight. So he was motivated by food it seemed, and who could blame him. It wasn't like you learned how to cook because you hated food.

You set yours down on the coffee table before retreating into the kitchen and returning with bottled water, two cups, and a small teapot. You pour him a cup, your hands steady as the liquid steamed.

"They could taste like shit." you say with a straight face and he laughs, taking the plate from you as you sit cross-legged on the sofa next to him.

"There's no way in hell." he says, both hands on the sandwich already. You place the plate in your lap and move to take a bite. You both moan on contact.

"Fuck." you groan.

"Shit." he exclaims. "Bell, these are amazing." he says, another bite taken before the first is even swallowed. You can't help but feel proud. When the only other person you cook for, your friend Charlotte, is super picky it's harder to enjoy cooking because you so rarely got an enthusiastic reaction like his was without any coaxing.

"Thanks." you say after swallowing, not inhaling yours in the same manner, you sip your tea and watch him happily devour the plate of food quickly. You aren't even finished with your first sandwich and you give him a closed mouth, happy smile.

"These representative of your taste in music?" he asks, cutting the silence, hand motioning towards the bookcase.

"Oh yeah. I mean, I usually just listen to one of the music apps but I'm still a sucker for vinyl for things I really like." you nod in explanation. "Also just stuff I find at flea markets that strikes me as interesting, so it's a mixed bag. I just like some of the old album art."

"Oh yeah I get that." he says with a nod, eyes moving to the walls. "Like these?" he asks, the framed series of records on the wall to your right.

"Yeah, except that one." you point to one in the corner. "That's the first one I ever played on that we did at the studio."

"Guitar I'm assuming?" he nods to the two hanging on the wall, one a worn acoustic and one a matte black axe. What an interesting combination, he thought.

"Assuming right." you say after chewing another bite. "I went through a real big 80's metal phase and bought the axe on a whim." you chuckle while you chew.

"Looks cool as hell." he says with an impressed pursing of his lips.

"Agreed." you grin smugly before sipping your tea.

"You get to play a lot on the stuff you record down there?" he's leaned back on the couch now, phone left on the coffee table by yours, eyes intently watching you.

"Sometimes. I do rhythm and the technical aspects the most. But on that one I had to stand in for their guitarist after he got in a fight and broke some fingers...so I stepped in." you elaborate, finishing off your sandwiches.

"That sounds really cool. Seriously." he gives an enthusiastic series of nods.

"Well I think being a bar owner sounds cool." you say with a shrug.

"Sometimes." he says with a nod, withholding his usual enthusiasm so you change the subject.

"What's the verdict on the weather?" you ask, taking the plates to the kitchen.

"Mmmm..." he hums, looking it up on his phone, you walk from the kitchen, switching off the light and moving to the big window in the living room.

By the noise you make he knows the verdict of your judgment on the aggression of the storm to not be favorable. "I'm afraid it's not good, dude." you say, still looking out the window and shaking your head.

"This says much the same." he grumbles, raising to stand behind you and get a look himself. The roads still untouched, his truck already covered in a layer of snow.

"Uhhh...Declan?" you say hesitantly.

"Yeah Bells?" he asks, you both look to each other.

"You're gonna have to stay. You realize that right?" the corner of mouth draws up in thought.

"Is that..." he starts, pausing to shift his eyes for a moment. "Is that okay?" he hesitantly asks. "I don't want you to think that's what this was about."

"Don’t worry,  we're on the same page. I didn't want you to think I was getting fresh with you. You're just...you're nice and I don't want you putting yourself in danger in this." you admit.

"Well aren't you sweet." he smiles down at you.

"Eh. Wait till you deal with me in the morning and then see if you want to say that." you laugh, shutting the curtains. "I'm gonna grab some blankets." you say, moving into the closed door off a small hallway near the corner of the living room.

You appear again, a stack of comforters and pillows that tower over your head. As soon as he see's you with them he moves to take them from you.

"Couch is a pull-out, by the way. No way your tall ass is gonna be comfy otherwise." you laugh as you move pillows.

"You don't have to move stuff on my account." he hurriedly says, setting down the pillows into an empty chair.

"Hush, you brought me home and didn't have to, I can move some metal a few feet for you," you say with the shake of your head. "You can pull the coffee table over there though." you point to the far side of the room. 

So you've got it all out, blankets, pillows, space heater, all boxes checked.

"Alright. Remotes are there if you can't sleep, phone chargers on the side table, get whatever you want out of the kitchen. I'm the door on the left if you need me." you motion to the dark wooden door in the small hallway he'd seen you retreat to earlier. "You good?" you inquire, eyebrows high at him.

"More than, sweetheart, you talk about me being nice." he says with a smirk.

"Like I said. Just wait." you nod and chuckle. You move to switch off the lights, the glow of the space heater now the main source of illumination. "Night Declan." you lilt as you round the corner.

"Night Bella." he says in a soft, sweet tone that you let make your face form into a girlish smile since he can no longer see it.

CHAPTER 2

[shslpunkartist]

Funny thing here is that anon is working on a silly little original story that involves God living among our world and in this story the bible has actually gotten a lot of thing wrong about them.

For starters, I actually based off their personality partially off your Keith because one) I don't think I've actually seen someone who made a God oc who is quite like your Keith before and the mere thought of all the strict religion folks learning that their Almighty Lord God's true personality is this lovable sweet dumbass leaves me in stitches. The side that everyone is more familiar with, like, God being all firm and harsh yet fair and such, well, it's more a façade they put on in order to do their God duties and such. Not to say that serious side isn't actually a part of them, it's just that one) they generally only show it when they feel the situation calls for it and two) their followers accidentally exaggerated it WAY too much when making the Bible.

Another thing, God and Lucifer are actually on good terms! They made up a few centuries after the rebellion and so Hell more a place where sinners do go but only those who are truly horrible are actually punished, and even then they too can get a chance to be forgiven! Oh it's still quite a harsh place but still pretty fair in many ways. Lucifer often goes to the human world too and they get a kick out of how some humans seem to view God as the Almighty Lord who never makes any mistake when they can still recall how back early days of the universe God wanted to make certain creatures only to accidentally create some horrible mindless abomination that is promptly met with a terrified God screaming "KILL IT WITH FIRE" then proceed to cry over the poor thing's corpse about "sorry they were and they didn't actually meet to kill it" and the angels had to spend the next couple hours coaxing them out from their sad corner lol.

Anyhow, I bring this up because I just read what the institute has done to Morgana and one) FUCK THOSE BASTARDS LIKE SERIOUSLY FUCK THEM I HOPE THEY ALL SUFFER A HORRIBLE DEATH and two) I couldn't help but imagine my God oc finding this out and lemme tell you, THEY WOULD BE SO FURIOUS that they would march right up to Heaven, barge through the institute's doors, and proceed to tell them off all for their bullshit, how they - God their lord - WOULD NEVER TOLERATE THIS NONSENSE and how DARE they even THINK they're a good example of a "proper angel" and would even say "Lucifer is a fallen angel, and yet they're still much more of a proper angel than any of you assholes!" and just the mere thought on how these assholes seem to believe they're doing everything by their Lord's Will only for that very Lord to chew them out for it sends me into tears.

And best part? Since I partially based this oc of mine on your Keith, I can't stop imagining KEITH doing this and this sends me into another laughing fit. I THINK NEARLY EVERYONE WOULD LOSE IT IF KEITH ACTUALLY WAS FREAKING GOD REBORN AS A MORTAL, LIKE, WTF /YOU'RE GOD/?! AT THE GREMLIN WHO JUST MAKES THAT CLASSICAL GREMLIN FACE OF HIS ASJKSAJK

DAMMIT NOW I'M TEMPTED TO WRITE SOMETHING BASED ON THIS LOL

How could you tell me this knowledge, especially when Keith squatting with that >:D face is on my mind at least twice a day? /lh

I'm glad to see that everyone wants to start war with Heaven (or at least with that institute). Tbh it makes me wanna figure out how my God works. Cuz I got the Lords in Hell figured out (despite never talking about them lmao), but what the fuck is up with the Lord in Heaven, and why are they letting this happen?

[garrisonsnug]

a woman soon // shelby sister

‘remember,’ tommy says. ‘don’t stay any longer than you need to. keep it direct, keep it light -’

‘tommy,’ you reply, glancing over your shoulder as you climb out of the car, ‘you’re just my driver today, remember?’ 

it had been four days ago that polly had taken the phone call from liverpool. a mrs edith shelby, apparently distantly related by marriage, politely enquiring after a representative of shelby brothers limited.

you were lucky it was polly, with her carefully guarded manners, who answered the phone. apparently, the woman had no idea of the true nature of the shelby business, and sought only to reconnect with estranged relatives. hopefully reconnect in the financial sense.

‘it has to be bullshit,’ you’d said after polly relayed the conversation. ‘dad’s side is all travellers, anyway. not old money in bloody liverpool.’

‘she never said she was old money,’ polly corrected. ‘didn’t sound it, anyway. besides, it is possible. all those cousins, it’d be a wonder if none of them married above their station. very good talkers, you shelbys.’

you laughed at the last comment as she raised an eyebrow at you. ‘fair enough. what’s the plan, then?’

tommy ashed his cigarette and cleared his throat. ‘i’ll take the car up on friday. john can come, too.’

‘nonsense. you’re forgetting your sister,’ polly replied, unimpressed. you blinked, surprised, but didn’t say anything as polly continued. ‘do you really think this woman wants a couple of men with no table manners showing up at her door?’

‘fine then, polly - you can come.’

‘you’re taking your sister,’ poll said firmly. ‘and not only that, but she’s doing the talking. this isn’t about intimidation, thomas. someone needs to sweeten this woman up, and it sure as hell won’t be you.’

‘so i’m supposed to gather dust in the fucking corner, am i?’

a smirk tugged at the corner of polly’s mouth. ‘you can say you’re the driver.’

on your way out on friday, polly had given your shoulders a squeeze. ‘don’t do anything i wouldn’t do,’ she warned, ‘and don’t let him run the show, alright?’ 

edith shelby can’t be older than forty. she perches in lilac, the pretty fixings of her sitting room drawn up around her, hands folded in her lap. 

when the maid led you through the foyer of her stately liverpool townhouse to greet her, tommy trailing behind, she had leapt from her seat and beamed a welcome. she had complimented your dress, taken a lock of your hair in her hand and mused about the colour in a surprisingly forthright, though not unwelcome, way. she barely gave tommy a second glance, briefly mentioning to you that your driver was welcome to take a seat in the corner, there, they normally wait in the car but perhaps it’s different in birmingham and besides it’s getting quite cold, isn’t it? 

now, the two of you sit quietly but amiably as the young maid pours tea. it isn’t until she’s closed the sitting room doors behind her that edith speaks.

‘i was so thrilled to hear there were shelbys down in birmingham. after my roy went to god, well... he never told me much about his family. i just knew it was big. i’ve been trying to make contact here and there, but never expected such a successful business in the family name.’

you haven’t the faintest idea who roy shelby might have been, besides a cousin somewhere far in the reaches of your family tree. you simply smile and add, ‘the most successful betting company in the city.’ 

as edith goes on, beginning to drop words like shares and invest into the conversation, you feel a growing sense of unease. there’s something a little off about the whole situation - maybe her accent, occasionally dipping out of clarity. maybe the looming, closed doors at the end of the room, the kind that keep noise out - or in. you keep up your polite nods, but squeeze your purse where it sits on your lap, and the feel of your pistol inside it is reassuring. you don’t entirely trust this woman, but you’re not about to give up on what could be a lucrative deal. 

‘- so of course, you could expect an increase in assets over time as i become more secure in the knowledge that your business practice is sound and your profits satisfactory.’

‘edith - mrs shelby - pardon me for asking,’ you begin, steeling yourself by thinking on polly’s quiet confidence in you, ‘i wonder why, exactly, you’re making such a generous offer.’

she startles at that slightly, and glances momentarily towards the closed doors. ‘because i knew what a terrible shame it would be for me to never connect with roy’s family - though it took his death for me to realise that. and i approach you through business because i know it’s a mutual expertise.’ 

‘right. well, before i can consider an offer i’d have to know more about your own experience -’ 

wood scrapes against wood behind you as tommy stands, clearing his throat. you freeze, and edith looks suitably alarmed. ‘you want to talk business,’ he says, striding over, ‘you want to talk with me. thomas shelby, owner of shelby company limited.’ 

he offers his hand and edith takes it hesitantly, looking to you as if she expects you to explain the joke. you can feel your cheeks flushing furiously, and hate yourself for it. 

‘tommy -’

‘this one here’s the baby sister,’ he says fondly. you grit your teeth against a litany of foul language that wants to come out. ‘we like to let her stretch her legs occasionally, give her a bit of experience. but it’s hardly fair to send out the amateurs to someone of your gravitas, edith.’ 

you can feel your blush raising to your temples as edith relaxes visibly and begins to almost totally ignore you. tommy talks smoothly, comfortably, and you think with a spark of annoyance that if you had conducted yourself in the same forward manner you wouldn’t hear the end of it for weeks. after what must be ten minutes, you excuse yourself to the washroom and instead head outside, waiting stubbornly in the car and shivering in the cold. 

‘i’m going to start charging interest on my wages for every time you make a fucking fool out of me, thomas,’ you say quietly. it’s the first thing that’s been said since you left edith shelby’s house, and tommy looks quietly bemused. 

‘three thousand pounds over the next nine months, since you didn’t ask,’ he says. ‘potential for expansion into liverpool, if we can feel for how comfortable she is with some underhanded deals.’

‘you don’t think i could’ve secured the same deal? something better?’

‘you were treating the thing like a fucking police interrogation. sometimes i think you’ve got it, you know, and then i realise you’re as young as you look. just playing at the real thing.’

‘because it was suspicious, thomas. polly would’ve done the exact same thing i did, and you know it. it’s not my age. it’s the way you throw yourself into these things -’ 

he takes a last drag of his cigarette and flicks it out of the car. ‘i think you’d better go back to the shop for a few months,’ he says, gently. you feel the hot sting of tears behind your eyes and will them back. 

‘- she’ll grow into the work, one day, but she’s not there yet. reminds me of those fourteen year olds in the trenches, too small for their uniforms.’ 

your older brothers are sitting around the table in the betting shop, smoking and occasionally laughing easily. you go to storm past them but john catches you with one arm around your waist and pulls you to the table, laughing. 

‘don’t take it too hard, now, our kid’ he says, and arthur chuckles into his drink. ‘there’s lots of important stuff to be done here, while you’re young. polly’s sure to give you another go after your next birthday.’

‘oh, fuck off, john,’ you spit, pulling away. ‘it’s not like your bollocks ever dropped to begin with.’ 

he tips his head back and laughs, a reaction which only makes you angrier. 

‘alright, alright,’ tommy says -  his tone steady though he can’t hide a smirk - ‘leave her be. you off to see some friends at the club, then?’ 

‘something like that,’ you mutter. you think of tommy’s beloved ford, sitting sleek and dormant down by the farrier. no harm in not mentioning it. not much damage a kid can do, anyway.

thin smoke furls around you as you peer into the slightly crumpled bonnet of the car. the headlights are smashed and they glitter in the settling dusk, throwing light off the wheels, all slick with rainwater and pushed out of alignment, skewed at funny angles. tommy keeps a box of tools under the seat, you remember. grimly, you balance your umbrella on one shoulder and fumble one-handed for anything that might help you straighten the wheels. 

‘can i help you, miss? call the repairman for you?’ 

‘no, thank you,’ you smile thinly, turning to meet the coal-smudged face of a man on his way home from work. ‘that’s very kind, but i’ll be alright.’

‘are you injured?’

‘no, not at all, though i expect my brother will see to that when i tell him.’

as you say that, a flash of recognition passes over the man’s face. he nods curtly, still wearing a charade of a smile, and quickly continues to make his way down the street. others, who you assume have recognised either you or the car, give you a wide berth. no one wants to be the one found elbow-deep in thomas shelby’s battered car, you suppose. 

speak of the devil. you hear your name called - the sound of it like a military command - from up the street. when you turn, tommy is storming towards you, the rain slicking his hair down and making his overcoat as dark and shiny as a spill of oil. he calls your name again, once, short and furious. 

‘tommy -’ 

his hand closes around your upper arm and he wrenches you away from the car, pulling you back up the street. your umbrella clatters to the ground and you’re drenched within moments. his breath comes in the quick, angry movements of a man who’s been running. 

‘thomas, the car -’

‘never mind the fucking car, someone can collect it later. are you hurt?’ the question sounds like a formality - there’s only a shade of real concern in his voice.

‘no, but -’ 

‘good. then what the fuck did you think you were playing at?’

with a burst of effort, you yank yourself out of his grip and stagger backwards. the two of you are standing in the middle of the road, his gaze burning into you. all the people on the street have ducked into buildings - a combination of the rain and his presence - but curious faces remain at the windows, eager to see if shelby family business is about to get hashed out in public. 

‘playing at - because that’s all it ever is, isn’t it, tommy? because i’m just a little girl and you never have to take me seriously, lighten up, tom -’ you can feel your voice rising, but it remains sharp, not fogged by tears like you were worried it would be. 

‘i’ll take you fucking seriously when you stop doing something like this every time your pride gets wounded!’ his voice rises too, not to match yours but just enough to be heard over the hiss of rain on cobblestone.

‘it’s always next time with this family! you’d rather send me off somewhere quiet so i can live like ada. a fucking rat in a cage, she is, and you’ve made her that way.’ 

‘sometimes i do think you’d be be better off in london, keeping her company. then i’m halfway to a fucking heart attack thinking of all the trouble you could get into down there.’ 

‘i’m sick to death of being a fucking problem for you, tommy. a problem instead of a sister.’

he swears under his breath and then closes the distance between you again. he takes your wrist and tugs you along like a scolded child. it’s then that you both realise your hand is coated in blood, a bright scarlet that replenishes as quickly as the rain can wash it away. 

‘you’re hurt,’ he says, almost accusingly. 

‘it must have been the glass on the headlights, or something. i didn’t even feel it, tommy, it’s fine -’ but he’s already shrugging off the sleeves of his coat, keeping it hanging over his shoulders, and unbuttoning his shirt. 

he slips his arms back into the overcoat quickly and pulls it across himself to stop his undershirt from soaking through. he pulls your hand towards himself, palm up, and wraps the shirt around it, tying it off around your wrist. ‘you’ll have to get under the lamp when we get home,’ he says. ‘check for glass.’ 

the silence when you step into the betting shop tells you what you already knew, which is that the two of you must look a fucking sight. both soaked to the bone, tommy with his undershirt showing, you with your hand wrapped tightly in cotton that’s shot through with blood. 

‘suppose there’s some kind of story, here,’ john says after a beat. you roll your eyes. 

tommy places a hand on your shoulder. ‘i can’t talk to you right now. go through and see polly, she’ll take care of your hand.’ 

you slip round the hallway and hear tommy settle at the table again. the others start to joke about the state he’s in, and once you’re sure they’re back into a rhythm of conversation, you press yourself still against the wall and strain to listen. your hand throbs now with a dull pain you didn’t notice before.

‘- know what polly’s going to say to her, don’t you?’

‘just like your mother,’ arthur and john say, bemused. a pause. 

‘she is. i was unfair on her, today. so were the two of you. she’s hardly a thirteen year old anymore.’ 

‘still knows how to chase a lamping like one.’ john. there’s annoyance, but you have to bite down on a laugh, too. his voice is fond. 

‘i could say the same for you.’ tommy’s chair scrapes along the wood as he stands and you hold your breath, wanting to hear the end of the conversation but not wanting to be caught. ‘i’m taking her down to london next week.’ 

‘that’s -’ 

‘not your choice to make. besides, i’ve got business for you two at home. find me in the morning.’ 

with a sudden start, you realise he’s heading towards the hall. before you can slink into polly’s office, he’s there, half in shadow. you smile at him, almost apologetically. you suspect he wants to do the same, but he just nods at you, a wry look in his eye. 

‘sorry,’ you half-whisper, but you can’t hide your grin. 

he points towards polly’s office, one corner of his mouth tugged up into a smirk. ‘london. friday week,’ he mouths, and then gestures for you to make yourself scarce. 

[justjessame]

Not A Loser Anymore Chapter 13

The next time Morgan’s eyes opened it was full dark in whatever container Aisha had her housed in. Rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck, she started making a mental list for how to keep this shit from happening again.

1) Fucking use the peephole, you fucking twat. 2) Carry a weapon everywhere. Even in your own fucking house apparently. Tucking them in all corners only works if you’re conscious enough to grab one. 3) Speaking of being conscious, call the biotech and research guy *pretty fucking certain that you wrote the name down in your address book*. See if Mr. Bio can make a cover all antidote for whatever fucking anyone tries to roofie your ass with. Carry it like a weapon, constantly. 4) Never, ever, ever, ever let someone like this bitch live after knowing she burned down a fucking motel with Clay to get him on her side. Screw that nonsense. Just garrote her ass and toss her in a ditch. One and done. 5) Send out a fucking anonymous message to any and ALL fucking potential kidnappers with flyers for COMFORTABLE fucking chairs. This metal monstrosity needs to go.

She was working through her list, listening for ANY sign of life from around her and wondering idly if Aisha was trying to get Clay back in bed.

Clay and the team were gathered around the very island that mere hours earlier he’d spent reminding Morgan of every single reason that they were right for one another. Jensen and Cougar had gone over the house inch by inch and reported nothing out of place. Morgan had opened the door and disappeared. Which made no fucking sense.

His phone rang and he glanced down, knowing that Morgan’s phone was still plugged into the charger by her bed so it wouldn’t be her number staring back at him. Aisha. He let out a long sigh, but answered.

“Yeah?” It was gruff and abrupt, but he wasn’t in the damn mood.

Her soft laughter met his ear and he closed his eyes, wishing like Hell that it was Morgan’s laugh. “That’s a great greeting, Clay.” Opening his eyes, he saw Roque studying him and Pooch trying to not make eye contact at all. Shit.

“What is it you need, Aisha?” Stilted, and not the least bit covert in the irritation he felt for this interruption.

“Many things, Clay, many things.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose. Innuendo wasn’t welcome right now. “Max’s location would be great, but you would do in a pinch.” Fuck. Not now. “Kind of busy here,” Roque’s arms were crossed over his chest. Jensen was looking sick on his stomach and Cougar was still taking stock of his surroundings. At least there wasn’t judgement on that front. Pooch, on the other hand, was picking up the clip that Morgan had found that they’d planted in her living room. Wait. Had it been on the island the entire time? “Gotta go.” He didn’t wait for her to reply, he ended the call and pointed at the clip. “Was that on the counter?”

Pooch looked up at him and shook his head. “No, we found it in the living room on the coffee table.” Shit. And then his brain fully engaged past the absolute terror of losing her and he nearly smacked his head on the surface in front of him.

“The fucking camera on the porch.” They all looked up at him and he realized they’d been rendered as useless as him by their worry. “Jensen-”

Jensen was ahead of him, as soon as he’d reminded them of the other surveillance cameras, he’d commandeered Morgan’s desktop in the living room. He was rapidly clicking and typing and as the others joined him, they heard his groan.

“Whoever it was,” he shifted so they could see the camera feed. “Knew where all the cameras were. They disabled them.” The feed showed a loop of Clay leaving, over and over and over.

“How long?” Clay felt the fear gnawing at his insides. “How long were they out?”

“They’re still out.” He went back to clicking and then the cameras came back online. “Now they’re up again, fat fucking luck that is.” He pushed away from the desk and stood up to pace. “This fucking sucks.”

No one else said anything. What else was there to say?

Morgan was left alone until dawn was creeping over the horizon. She guessed, since it was total darkness, and then a sliver of light appeared. It grew, but not by much. She took stock of that knowledge. Not another shipping container. That thing only offered whatever artificial light that dumbass Max and his little puppet brought in or the natural light when the doors were opened. So a room, but it was barren and completely dark when no light came from outside of it. No windows, meaning an interior room. Or the windows were boarded or painted over perfectly. She doubted that. Much more likely that she was in an interior room.

She hadn’t noticed anything in the room when Aisha had introduced herself. Nothing other than the hard as shit chair, herself, and her captor. She had to give the younger woman a shred of credit. Aisha had bound her to the chair in a way that finding purchase to fight back or break free wasn’t possible. Fucking witch.

“You’re awake.” The light came fuller as the door opened in front of Morgan. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Aisha.” Morgan grinned, fuck her and this situation. “Did you sleep well?” The other woman tilted her head. “Well if you ever need a little something to help you out, may I suggest you take whatever shit you keep drugging me with and shove it straight up your-”

“No wonder they nearly beat you to death.” She shook her head. “That mouth of yours, Captain Dean. You should learn to keep it shut.”

“Clay loves it when I use my mouth.” Morgan offered. “In fact there’s this thing I do with my tongue that he learned to do in return, didn’t he give you that gift?” The glare she received made her shrug as best she could. “Pity, I thought that anyone who’d burn down a fucking motel would at least utilize his best assets first.”

The slap was unexpected. Not because Morgan hadn’t expected to be hit, but a SLAP?! What kind of pansy shit was that? “Shut the hell up!” Aisha snapped. “You’re a complication. A distraction. They need to be on their A game to find him.”

“Max?” Morgan grinned wider. “Oh, that’s terribly sad.” Another glare. “You’re focused on the useless metrosexual, when you should be focused on the fucking hot commander. Damn, no wonder he needs distracting. You’re just as weak as that fucking slap.” Another slap. “Yeah, see, no heat. I expected more from a woman who set FIRE TO A FUCKING MOTEL.”

Clay was going in circles. He was still at Morgan’s house, but he’d sent the others out to find something. Roque suggested door to door, now that it was full light. Fine. Go. Do.

His mind was full of the last twenty-four hours. How can you find IT and then lose IT in one fucking day? For God’s sake. Hadn’t he and Morgan paid the toll already? Damn it.

His phone rang again and he glanced down. Aisha. He let it go to voicemail. He didn’t have time for her bullshit come-on right now. Not while Morgan was who the fuck knew where.

Pooch came rushing in, out of breath, and looking like he knew the answer to what the meaning of life was, and as he told Clay what the neighbor had mentioned seeing he understood completely the look gracing his face.

Morgan was still smiling. “It’s almost like your heart isn’t in it, Aisha.” She spit a tiny speck of blood out of her mouth. “Hell by this time in the torture with Wade I’d lost enough blood to feel a tad bit concerned.” She glanced down at herself, still in perfect working order. “You’ve barely split my lip. Afraid of what Clay will do to you when he finds out, or MY team? Cause let me tell you, Aisha, you don’t have to worry about them.” She could see the curiosity in the other woman’s face. “Worry about me, because when I get free, and I WILL get free, the last thing you’ll ever worry about is Max, or Clay, or my team. I promise you that I’m going to end the search, the torment, the vengeance. Because I’m going to fucking kill you. Stone cold dead. And you know it. That’s why I’m still strapped nice and tight to this fucking chair and you’re playing poke the bear.”

Aisha tried to scoff. Tried to roll her eyes, but Morgan could see the fear lying just beneath both actions. “Maybe I want you alive so I can use you to bargain.”

“He’s not answering your calls.” She knew she'd heard her leaving the voicemail. Tempting. Teasing. But clearly a message and not an actual conversation. “Kinda difficult to bargain or trade when the second party doesn’t pick up.” Morgan tilted her head and studied her prey. “Come on, Aisha, you know you’re curious about which one of us truly is the baddest bitch in this male dominant, testosterone ridden group. Take off my chains, and let’s play.” I fucking dare you, she thought, because I have every move planned and I promise this to you AND me: You’ll be dead in seconds.

[ohlawsons]

HOMESICK

SUMMARY. Neria's used to spending her birthdays at home and with family. This year, she's spending it surrounded by undead. NOTES. written for @pillarspromptsweekly prompt 0006 birthday prompt! this turned out longer than i’d figured but hey, i finished on time, which is more than i can say for last week’s prompt. i’m still slowly working on the old flame prompt. slowly. anyway fun fact -- i opened up my copy of the pillars cookbook for the first time bc of this fic LINKS. [ ao3 ] [ Neria’s tag ]

She brings it up on their first trip into Defiance Bay, as they’re passing by the market in Copperlane.

“D’you think they have ymyran pudding?” Neria asks no one in particular, falling a bit behind as the group walks through the city.

“Do they have what?” Eder slows, letting Kana and Sagani pass him up as he waits for Neria to fall back into step beside him. “Sounds like some sort of fancy Aedyran thing.”

From just behind them, Aloth scoffs. “It is.” Eder can’t see the elf rolling his eyes, but he can assume. “It’s a very sweet, very heavy cinnamon dessert. I’m not surprised you had it in Rauatai.”

Neria shrugs, the movement quick and unsettled. “I didn’t, really. Myra used to make it for my birthday every year, even after she went back to Ixamitl. I just thought, since it’s-- well, nevermind.” She takes a deep breath, face tilting upwards to give a wide grin to both Eder and Aloth. “Just let me know if you see some? Dyrwoodans can’t bake for shit and it makes me kinda homesick.”

Kana turns to face them, his booming laughter reaching them easily. “That makes two of us, then. Maybe when you’ve gotten Caed Nua back to a reasonable state, we could try our hand at making some sweets. Rauatai pies, perhaps?”

“By the Effigy,” Neria groans, “I would kill for a Rauatai sweet pie right now.”

“Anything chocolate, really,” Kana agrees.

From up ahead, Sagani shakes her head. “The two of you have a sweet tooth as bad as an Aedyran. No offense, Aloth.”

The wizard sighs. “None taken.”

Neria and Kana continue to trade sickeningly sweet treats that they miss as the group walks through the city towards whatever horrors await them in Heritage Hill. Eder chimes in every so often, sometimes to defend the relatively bland Dyrwoodan cuisine or to offer a clever remark of his own. He pays particularly close attention to Neria, tucking away whatever little bits of knowledge he can about her as she talks, including the pudding -- which he’s already forgotten the name of.

There’s one point he really wants to ask her about -- her birthday, and the odd way she hesitated when she brought it up.

He doesn't get the chance, though, because they're leaving the populated districts of Defiance Bay and Neria’s bribing the guards, and suddenly they're surrounded by undead and half-dead. They stop to catch their breath in one of the partially collapsed mausoleums -- Neria pulls out some jerky, asks if it's distasteful, and Eder and Sagani laugh alongside her -- and once his pulse has returned to normal, Eder tries for a conversation.

“You mentioned something about a birthday, earlier,” he mentions, nonchalant.

Neria looks up from where she's sitting beside him, inspecting the blade of her axe. “Yeah, it's… It's weird. Don't worry about it.”

Kana perks up at that, his eyes lighting up as he turns his attention towards Neria. “What do you mean?”

She sets the axe down on her lap and sighs. “It’s weird,” she repeats. “I don’t actually know when my birthday is. I mean, my parents tried to abandon me in the forest to avoid the ire of Berath, so it’s not like they told me. All I know is the day Myra found me, which,” she pauses and shrugs, “would be today.”

“And we’re spending it in a haunted neighborhood chasing down cultists.” Kana shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Neria. Perhaps we’ll have time to celebrate when we get back to the inn.”

She grins. “Well, I’m not gonna turn down an excuse to spend the night drinking.”

They don’t spend the night drinking.

They’re ambushed by guls in one of the abandoned, run down manors on the east side of the district. Sagani takes a hard hit and she’s still standing but barely, so they gather in one of the rooms on the top floor and Neria barricades the door while Kana sings a quiet song of rest. Itumaak curls up beside Sagani, and between Kana’s singing and the bandaging they manage to stop the blood flow.

Neria offers to take the first watch, wanting to give Kana and Aloth plenty of time to rest. She pulls the last of her jerky out from her pack and settles onto one of the dusty armchairs, the upholstery torn and stained. It’s going to be a long, quiet watch, she knows, because they’re inside and there aren’t even stars to watch.

She’s on her last strip of jerky, tearing it into increasingly tiny pieces to make it last, when she hears a sound from the floor below them. It’s nearly time to wake Eder for his watch, anyway, so she shoves the rest of the jerky into her mouth and shakes him awake.

“There’s something downstairs,” she whispers, the words garbled through her mouth full of jerky. “I’m gonna go look.”

As Neria turns to leave, Eder reaches up to grab her wrist -- he’s sitting upright, and they’re nearly eye-level now -- and shakes his head. “Just leave it. We’ll worry about it if it comes up here.” He pauses and looks her over. “Besides, you need to rest.”

She frowns and tugs her wrist free from his grasp so she can cross her arms. “Fine, take all the fun out of this trip.”

He gives her a slow smile. “You mean you haven’t been having fun?”

“Oh, loads,” she assures him, hoping to draw out another smile. “I usually spend my birthday in Ixamitl with Myra, but going up against mindless undead and fucked up animancers? Huge improvement.” She pauses, then glances back towards the door. “I’m just gonna go look.”

“Neria, wait.” His smile has disappeared, and the soft, measured way he says her name is enough to break through the last of Neria’s resolve.

“Alright, alright,” she relents, letting her war hammer drop to the dusty floor beside her with a thunk. She rests her left hand on its haft, fingers drumming against the sturdy wood as she thinks. “I can’t believe I’m stuck in a fucking haunted house.” The words are bitter and quiet, meant only for herself, but out of the corner of her eye she just catches the way that Eder’s brow knits together. Neria bites back a curse; she hadn’t meant to bother him -- or anyone else -- about her birthday, but the combination of this Watcher bullshit and the fact that it’s the first birthday she’s spent away from Myra has put her in a particularly sour mood.

“Hey.” Eder puts a hand on Neria’s shoulder -- and it’s odd, because he’s still sitting and neither of them are used to being eye-level with each other -- and offers a warm smile. “Soon as we get back to Copperlane, we’ll celebrate with drinks and some of that immer… ymyr… whatever pudding it was that you were lookin’ for.”

She isn’t certain she should find his clumsy attempts quite so endearing, but they are, so she returns the smile and gently corrects, “Ymyran pudding. And I doubt they have it anywhere in this city and if they do, it’s probably shit. I’ll settle for drinks, though.”

“Good,” he grins. “I know where to find those.”

Even once they’ve dealt with the nightmare that is Heritage Hill, Neria doesn’t get to spend the evening drinking and celebrating.

She does drink, though it’s far from celebratory; the sensation of physically breaking someone’s spirit -- even if that someone was an undead animancer trying to take advantage of a tragedy for her own good -- had left Neria more than a little uncomfortable. The soul machine is destroyed, though, and that does bring her some satisfaction.

They find an inn in Copperlane to spend the evening, and Neria quickly retires to the room she’s sharing with Kana. Most days, she would gladly deal with such a state of mind by drinking until the discomfort has been thoroughly dashed, but this soul magic and Watcher nonsense is completely over her head and she hasn’t quite figured out how to deal with it.

So instead of staying down with the others, she curls up on one of the two small beds and pulls out one of the books that Kana had recommended to her. It’s filled with myths and legends from all over the Eastern Reach, and they’re as interesting as they are implausible and the sheer ridiculousness of some of them brings her a strange comfort; it’s as if perhaps everything she’s experienced the past few days is nothing more than a story, and will all one day end up in a book filled with fantasies like the one she’s reading now.

She’s in the middle of a story about a delemgan’s curse when there’s a knock at her door. She makes a face -- she really doesn’t want to have to deal with social niceties at the moment -- but slowly closes the book and sets it aside. “Yes?”

“It’s me.” Eder’s voice is muffled through the thick door. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Oh.” Curiosity piqued, Neria slides off the bed and pads over to the door, opening it to find Eder holding a small platter covered with a cloth napkin.

“No luck with the pudding,” he explains without pretense, holding out the platter. “But Kana had another idea.”

“O...kay?” With a little frown of confusion, Neria reaches up to take the platter. She glances up at Eder -- who’s watching her, almost expectantly -- before slowly sliding the napkin off. Beneath is a large piece of Rauatai sweet pie, warm and rich and sending a wave of nostalgia through her. “You found Rauatai pie.” Combined with the mention of pudding, the pie is enough to remind her of their conversation earlier in the day about the ymyran pudding she'd been craving.

He shrugs, as if to downplay the way he’s beaming down at her. “Least I could do, after the birthday you had.”

Unable to hold back her excitement any longer, Neria reaches greedily for the pie. “Want some?” she asks, almost as an afterthought. “It's a pretty big piece.”

“Already tried some. It's a little too heavy for me.”

“Dyrwoodan,” she mutters, glancing up to grin at Eder before taking a bite of the pie. It’s not as good as she remembers -- although that may just be the homesickness coloring her memories -- but it’s still rich and chocolatey and sweet. “Thank you,” she offers, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand and awkwardly setting the rest of the pie on the dresser. “It’s been pretty shitty lately, but this… helps. Like a little piece of home.”

Eder’s still beaming down at her, giving her a warm smile that’s equal parts proud and apologetic. “Like I said, it’s the least I could do. Wish I could’ve done somethin’ more than just get you a pie.”

Neria plants a hand on one hip, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s more than enough, Eder. It’s a lot more than I was expecting, honestly. But,” she shrugs, “feel free to shower me with gifts when we get back to Caed Nua and I throw a huge party.”

“If I’d known you’d be throwing a party, I might not’ve wasted my evening trying to find a baker from Rauatai,” Eder teases, giving an innocent shrug of his own.

Before Neria can answer, she hears someone clearing their throat from in the hallway. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” Kana apologizes, behind Eder and just outside of Neria’s view, “but I’d like to turn in for the night. Unless you want to switch rooms,” he offers, a wry edge creeping into his voice. “I have nothing against staying with Aloth.”

“I was just leaving,” Eder says, stepping back to give Kana a hearty clap on the back. “But I’ll keep that in mind.” With a wink, he begins making his way back down the hallway.

Neria watches as he goes, aware that she’s staring and aware that Kana is still watching her with amusement. “He found Rauatai sweet pie for me,” she informs the aumaua. “I think I’m in love.”

“Technically,” Kana corrects cheerfully, “I helped. The two of us went out searching for the bakery.”

“You know I love you, Kana.” Neria grins up at him, then tilts her head towards their shared room. “C’mon, I’ve got a pie to finish and I want to show you one of the stories in this book I’ve been reading.”