#i’ll fix the allegiances later

[vespidclan]

[MOON 25 PT 3]

The Aftermath… and surprise!!!!

This is the most effort I’ve put into a moon thus far. Watch as I never put this much effort ever again lol

[torturedpoetsflashfest]

FEST RECAP

Thank you all for a wonderful flash fest! 24 fics based on 16 songs with the most popular being "The Prophecy," "Peter," and "But Daddy I Love Him." The Black cousins reign supreme over this album with Regulus (7), Sirius (6), Andromeda (5), Narcissa (5) and Bellatrix (4) being the most popular characters. 9 fics met the challenge of having a word count which ends with 13.

Thank you to all the writers, and maybe we'll see you again for a flash fest for Rep (tv). In the meantime, come hang out in @marauders-taylor-fiending discord server or participate in @thetorturedpoetsfest <3

She's the Albatross (She's Here to Destroy You) by thistlecat (Narcissa centric, 313, T)

Beautiful, poised Narcissa Black Malfoy, so unlike her mad sisters with their insistence on destruction. Song: The Albatross

Did you really beam me up in a cloud of sparkling dust just to send me back where I came from? by @comesitintheclover (Harry-centric, 1013 words, G)

Harry wakes up from a long nightmare where he reckons with the anger of being left in an abusive home and how to feel about all that he's been through now that it's finally over and he's finally safe. Song: Down Bad

If Only by multilingualism (Hermione/Severus, 1013, T)

Severus imagines what could have been.

A greater woman has faith by @sugarsnappeases (Lily/Sybill, 3849, T)

they're exes. they're miserable. things ensue.

Song: The Prophecy

Take the Glory, Give Everything by MidnightStargazer (Narcissa & Regulus, Narcissa & Draco, 743, T)

Regulus dreams of glory, longing to make a name for himself and be remembered. Eighteen years later, Draco does the same. Narcissa knows better. Song: Clara Bow

The Prophecy by eggmett (Regulus/Tom Riddle, 1013, M)

The prophecy—For neither can live while the other survives. The thing that had finally sent Tom over the edge. Confimation that he would fall before he had even finished rising. But the omen sentenced us to death that day too. Tom and I would never be free of each other as long as we’re both alive. We’d never be able to live inside this toxic world we built. It didn’t stop me for yearning for it. I’ll always be desparate for his attention. Desparate for his touch. Song: The Prophecy

Promises, Oceans Deep by @sixlane (Regulus & Sirius, 2357, T)

Regulus lies awake on the night of his 14th birthday, running through the plan over and over in his mind. He’s had years to work it out, make sure it’s perfect, but tonight it becomes real, no room for messing up. If he’s caught, he’s dead. He knows this like he knows his own name. A truth his parents have been telling him since Sirius left. or, Regulus executes his escape to meet his brother, but he must soon face the fact that he's been left behind. When Sirius finally turns up, he's seven years too late. Song: Peter

A Dangerous Man by MidnightStargazer (Lucius/Narcissa, 695, T)

Lucius has blood on his hands and owes his allegiance to Lord Voldemort, but Narcissa doesn't care. Song: I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

what if he's written "Mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind? by @thistlecatfics (Sirius/Regulus, 1013, E)

Regulus and Sirius are brothers. Regulus and Sirius are no longer brothers. Or, a culmination of fatal fantasies. Song: Guilty as Sin

Peter by Faelostinwoods (Marlene & Peter, 229, G)

Peter had been angry, angry at his friends who treating him worse as the war got worse, angry at dumbledore for not protecting them, angry at whoever created his story because it was getting worse. He had joined the death eaters, in a desperate attempt to change his outcome. Yet, he didn’t expect it to go this far. Song: Peter

my absence makes headlines by @plecotusauritus (Sirius-centric, 459, G)

the scandal was contained the bullet had just grazed at all cost keep your good name you don't get to tell me you feel bad Song: Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

Forever Guilty, of Sin by @nena-96 (Hermione/Ron, 2148, M)

Hermione is alone inside the tent, as she tried to read The Tales of Beedle the Bard, but her memories blend in with the guilty fantasy that was being with Ron Weasley. Song: Guilty as Sin

loml by @emlovessid (Regulus/James, 1013, M)

It’s only been a few weeks since he’s been able to put words to it, but the feeling itself has been there from the beginning, from the first twining of hands and hitching of breath as their lips brushed, growing and growing until– “I love you,” James sighs, the words tumbling out as he breathes freely for the first time in weeks. “You might be the love of my life, actually.” Song: loml

So Long, London by @tealeavesandtrash (Sirius/Remus, 1013, T)

The silence hangs heavy, dead air suffocating. The sky outside is covered in grey clouds, casting the kitchen gloomy shadows. The pathetic fallacy is well-suited at least. Sirius’ eyes burn into him, staring him down over a cup of tea. It makes Remus’ skin crawl worse than the half-healed scars that litter his arms and back. He focuses on buttering the dry toast. Three months ago Sirius would have had breakfast ready for him when he came home. Six months ago he was still begging to spend the full moon together. Song: So Long, London

Burn My Life Down by @thecasualauthor (Andromeda/Ted, 637, G)

She sees everything about her life burn to ashes. Song: But Daddy I Love Him

Slow Quicksand, Poisoned Blood by @nodirectionhome-ao3 (James/Lily, 913, T)

After learning of the prophecy that threatens to doom her son, Lily begs the cosmos to spare him from this fate. Song: The Prophecy

I might just love you 'til the end by @ncoincidences (James/Lily, 1013, G)

James and Lily have been together since high school, seven years with each other. Recently, they have been drifting apart... will they make it till the end? Song: imgonnagetyouback

These Fatal Fantasies by MidnightStargazer (Bellatrix/Tom, Bellatrix/Rodolphus, 606, M)

Bellatrix is faithful to her husband. Technically. But her heart belongs to the Dark Lord. Song: Guilty as Sin

Mine Alone to Disgrace by MidnightStargazer (Andromeda/Ted, 474, G)

Andromeda tells her parents she's engaged to Ted Tonks Song: But Daddy I Love Him

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart by MidnightStargazer (Narcissa centric, 770, T)

Narcissa won't let anyone see her cry, even when her heart is breaking. Song: I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

but now we’ll curtail your curiosity (in sweetness) by @chemicalwildflowers (Andromeda & Tonks, Andromeda & Bellatrix, 215, G)

Nymphadora finds an old photo. Andromeda wants to protect her, for just one more day. Song: Robin

The Black Dog by ghstboys (Sirius/Remus, Remus/Tonks, 154, unrated)

Sirius watches Remus and Tonks from the afterlife. Song: The Black Dog

But Daddy I Love Him by @miss-grimwood (Bellatrix/Rodolphus, 146, T)

Bellatrix tries her best to avoid an arranged marriage with Lucius Malfoy in favour of Rodolphus Lestrange. Song: But Daddy I Love Him

said you’d come and get me but you were twenty-five (and the shelf life of those fantasies has expired) by @effiepotterisamilf (Regulus & Sirius, 295, G)

It’s Sirius’ 25th birthday and he’s not coming back for Regulus. Song: Peter

[aquarii-if]

Hi, I really liked your game! My favorite character so far is Vega, I’m interested to learn more about them. I have a couple of notes/questions.

First, when you meet your godly parent, they refer to you as “$lastname.” I assume this is because I never had the option set a surname during my playthrough; the option to tell the kidnappers your name only sets your first name, and both choices when you meet Estelle and Amare lead to your character refusing to give their last name, saying "I think my first name will suffice for now."

Second, is there a reason that if you decide Liviana should know about the mind control, you have to tell her right there and then, directly in front of Vega? My immediate instincts during that scene were to play along during that conversation and then pass on that information later in private, either during the security meeting or afterwards when MC is hanging out alone with Liviana. There’s no reason to think that telling her in the moment would change anything about the current situation, or that this is your only opportunity to speak to her, right? Vega already said that there’s not enough evidence for Liviana to arrest them, and Izar just told you you’re free to go. MC doesn’t indicate any doubt or suspicion about either of these things, and isn’t characterized as a particularly brash or impulsive person that would still blurt it out regardless.

Especially if MC has been acting cooperative with Vega and Izar so far, they seem willing to trust you and talk about their plans. It seems like an unforced error to immediately play your hand 30 seconds later and lose that potential tactical advantage, letting the ‘enemy’ know both your true allegiance and what intel you’ve gotten from them. There doesn’t seem to be a clear in-world reason why you can’t try to play both sides for a while, or even just test the extent of Vega’s control/access; If MC betrays them in private, but Vega still seems to know about it the next time they meet, that would be a good indicator of some form of spying/surveillance. I totally get if that’s not what you’re going for though, it’s just what I thought while I was reading!

This is a long post, so I put it under the cut.

1. Thank you for pointing that out to me, that’s a bug. I’ll send out a bug fix for that later. Apologies.

2. I want to preface this by saying this is not a permanent choice. MC will have the multiple other chances to tell Liviana about it in private without Vega knowing. Now, onto your question. If you choose not to tell Liviana, MC states that it’s because they don’t want to ruin Vega’s trust in them and also because they’re aware they don’t have any proof for their claim. Yes, they feel guilty afterwards, but that’s a natural feeling when you’re withholding information that could potentially help keep someone out of jail. MC does not have another chance to tell Liviana as she is more concerned with the meeting with the guards and making sure MC is safe. Maybe they could’ve told her in the aircraft, but if they wish to continue having a positive relationship with Vega, then telling Liviana that information right in front of the driver who is clearly on Vega’s side is probably not the best idea. The conversation after the meeting wasn’t very long, MC was still recovering after everything that just transpired, and didn’t have a chance to talk about any of it because they were interrupted by the announcement.

3. As for why the MC can decide to shout it out then, it’s an option for the MC to be more impulsive. They can cooperate with Vega and Izar, yes, but at that point MC is with people they feel safer around, and has no reason to continue going along with Izar and Vega if they have no interest in playing for both sides. If they wish to make it clear they side with Aquarii, this is the perfect chance to do so.

If you’re wondering why the allegiance stat goes down even if you plan on telling Liviana later, that stat is purely based on the other characters opinions of you, as well as the groups they stand for. In that moment, Vega took MC’s silence as them siding with Chronos. Thats just how Vega is, they’re quite irrational and impulsive. You’ll win those points back if you tell her later. Liviana on the other hand will not have any negative reaction if you decide to tell her during your second chance of informing her of Vega’s misdeeds. After that, however, you do risk a relationship drop with her.

Hope this could clear things up for you, I understand if you don’t agree of my reasoning here, but this was my thought process while writing the scene. Thank you for your insight and your praise, as well as the notice about the bug, sorry about that again! ❤️

[yourfavoritebookclub]

WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 12

What the fuck was that, Sgaeyl?” I bark as we climb into the sky, each beat of her wings turning the trees and fields into a blur of green.

The sound of Sgaeyl’s huff is her only response. She’s gone oddly silent in my mind. A fact that’s got me plummeting into a state of panic.

“I am TIED to her. WE are tied to her. That makes things very, very complicated.” I feel like I’m talking to myself.

“You are behaving poorly.”

“I’m–” I stutter at the accusation. “I’m behaving poorly? This changes things. This changes everything.” I clench my fists so hard my nails bite into my palms, knuckles scraping against Sgaeyl’s diamond-hard scales

I’m spiraling, fast, falling towards a bottom that has no end.

I close my eyes as I struggle to regain control of the torrent of emotions flooding my mind.

I know there’s not a damned thing I can do to change the circumstances now at play. Humans have very little sway in the goings-on of dragons, but it still doesn’t stop the anger and dread that’s drilling a hole in my chest.

“You are yelling, and it is irritating.” Sgaeyl bites back, and it’s an effort to keep my mouth shut.

Wordlessly, she banks left, taking us east of the Flight Field, a stream of air trailing behind her wingtips as she glides at a slow, easy speed.

She’s giving me time to process, cool off, and put the mask of the Wingleader on before we dropdown into the chaos of the Flight Field.

Every trace of frustration melts as I sit in the wholly unconditional, undeserved love that Sgaeyl grants me. Even when I am hard to love.

Violet is making things…complicated.

More than complicated. This is messy on so many levels. Brennan is her brother. I am keeping secrets. Secrets that she is far too intertwined in.

I was ready to break a lot of rules to keep Violet from harm today. I was willing to put a lot of people at risk for her, and that means something I don’t want to admit.

But if I’m being honest with myself, I know what it means. I also know that pursuing Violet will only cause problems, and it’s not worth the damage it would cause if I chose to act on it. She is still the daughter of the one person who is capable of thoroughly ruining me.

She is a liability.

She is dangerous.

And her life is now tied to mine.

Sgaeyl lets out a puff, “Tairn does not make bad judgments.”

That’s the other piece of it I can’t work out. Knowing what Violet is capable of, I’m not surprised that Tairn chose her, but his convictions place him firmly with Sgaeyl and I, and he’d never put us at risk. So what does their bond mean where her allegiance is concerned?

“I know.” I say curtly. I’ll feel guilty about my behavior with Sgaeyl later. Right now, I’m still trying to claw my way out of the pit of dread that I’ve been in since we landed in that clearing.

Sgaeyl takes us higher and higher into the sky until the air grows thin. I close my eyes, tipping my head back as we’re enveloped in a layer of misty cloud. The air goes cold for a moment as we break through the clouded barrier between the world below us and the open sky around us.

…

We land at the edge of the Flight field with the rest of the Wingleaders a few hours later, dusk cloaking the sky. The mage lights have been lit, casting everything in an otherworldly glow.

The dragons stand tall and proud next to their newly bonded riders, their bright eyes and shining scales glinting in the light. Tairn stands, a behemoth among the throng of dragons and people alike.

The arrival and bonding of the “unbondable” dragon to Violet Sorrengail no less, combined with the Feathertail in the crook of his wing, has piqued the Quadrant’s curiosity. All eyes are now fixed on the trio standing in the middle of the field.

On the dais, Melgren has his beady eyes on Tairn, a slither of venom in his gaze. I can practically see the wheels turning, and they are clearly assessing a threat.

On the far side of the field across from us are the unbonded, a dark cloud at the edge of the mage lights’ glow.

The unbonded always become particularly vicious in the weeks following Threshing. And this year will be no different.

Except it will be. Because Violet is target number one. And that means my life is on the line.

I was ready to break a lot of rules to keep Violet from harm today. I was willing to put a lot of people at risk for her, and that means something.

If I’m being honest with myself, I know what it means. I also know that pursuing Violet will only cause problems, and it’s not worth the damage it would cause if I chose to act on it.

Violet makes her way to the front of the dais, and General Sorrengail rises as Violet moves to stand before the roll-keeper who records today’s bonded pairs. As Violet waits in line. Professor Kaori bounds off the platform where the higher-ups are stationed and stares open-mouthed at Tairn.

As if Tairn’s ego could get any bigger.

“Quiet, my shadow.” Sgaeyl says quietly, and I know she’s right. Whether I like it or not, this is a moment in history. More than that, it’s a moment for Violet. A well deserved one.

My shadows pull away from my body in tendrils, weaving in and out of the crowd and melting into Violet’s shadow at her feet.

“Is that really—” Commandant Panchek blurts.

“Don’t say it,” General Sorrengail hisses, her hard gaze not so much as touching her daughter, wholly focused on the Tairn. “Not until she does.” Even from my spot at the edge of the field, I can see the way Violet’s whole body goes rigid at the implication.

An unexpected slice of fury strikes a hard line down my body. Violet has spent her whole life being underestimated and undervalued. She’s had every opportunity to quit. To escape to the comfortability of the Scribe Quadrant and leave this death camp behind.

And yet here she stands. Tall and strong despite the pain she seems to carry with her every day. Despite the target that’s been on her back since the day she put her feet on that parapet. Gods, no one sees it. How can they not see it?

And now they’re all witnessing something they can’t comprehend. Something that makes them question how and why a dragon chooses a rider.

���Violet Sorrengail,” the scribe announces as she scribbles in the Book of Riders. “Nice to see that you made it,” she says, a nervous smile lining her lips. “For the record, please tell me the name of the dragon who chose you.”

“Tairneanach.” She says quietly. The Scribe shakes her head in amazement as she writes down his name. “I can’t believe he bonded. Violet, he’s a legend.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but no words come out. The color leaches from her face as she stares out, seeing nothing, fully encased in her mind.

I narrow my eyes, trying to get a better read on her face.

And then I realize what’s happening a moment before she does.

Andarna has chosen her.

“Violet, are you all right?” the scribe asks. When Violet doesn’t provide an answer, she asks again, “Violet? Do you need a mender?”

Violet clears her throat and opens her mouth.

I brace for impact

“And Andarnaurram,” she whispers

Pure, unadulterated shock spreads throughout the Dias. “Both dragons?” she squawks. Violet gives a small nod and the crowd erupts. Leaders are already in heated debate, cadets shouting their discontent to anyone who will listen.

I take a seat atop the base of Sgaeyl’s tail, settling in as we wait for things to die down.

“They’ve stirred up quite a ruckus haven’t they?” I say to Sgaeyl.

“Indeed.” She says simply.

I heave a sigh. She deserves an apology, and it’s better I do this now rather than later.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” I whisper. I close my eyes and swallow the lump in my throat, struggling to get the words out. “I’m scared. My control is slipping and I cannot fail. I cannot condemn what’s left of my people to death.”

She turns to fix me with a stare and blinks a large, sapphire eye at me. “Hone your fear into a weapon Wingleader.” She swings her gaze to Tairn and Andarna. “I will not stand and watch the future of dragon-kind be slaughtered. She is a good female. A new being on this earth”

“I understand, Sgaeyl. I really do.”

“I know you do My Shadow.”

A few moments later, Liam finds me, a broad grin on his face.

I jump down, unable to hide my own smile, as his dragon Deigh, meanders over, stopping at a distance.

I wrap my arms around him tightly before pulling away, hands on both of his shoulders. Examining him for any signs of harm.

“You did so well. I might even say I’m proud.” Liam goes pink around the ears, and I give him an amused smirk. Liam Mairi, always humble.

“High praise, Xaden. Thank you. When Deigh chose me—” He pauses, shaking his head. “It just feels like we’re closer to everything we’ve been working toward.”

“We are. Day by day, and now I’ll actually get to see you. You can come with us,” I say. A subtle nod to our monthly activities.

“What are you going to do about Sorrengail?” He asks, nodding his head at Tairn.

While Bodhi is family, and Garrick might as well be, there’s a sense of relief settling over me now that Liam is here. Having one person who I can be honest with - no, who deserves my honesty - is an indescribable weight off of my shoulders.

“I don’t know,” I mumble,“protect myself I guess. Protect us both.” I pause, running my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know at all.”

“We are leaving,” Sgaeyl says simply. I assumed there would a meeting with the Empyrean. However, I have little doubt that Violet will still have two dragons at the end of this day.

“Tairn says to stay with Violet while we are gone.”

“Obviously.”

Sgaeyl brings her head down to give me a light thump on the head with the tip of her snout. I groan as her breath tousles my hair into a tangled mess. I scowl and bring my hands up to smooth my hair down.

She lets out a grumbling laugh from low in her chest, and I’m met with another gust of wind as she shoots skyward. Laughing softly I throw up my middle finger as she hovers above us, waiting for her mate.

Tairn stays planted on the ground for a moment and swings his head to look at me, “I expect the Silver one to be in one piece when we return, Wingleader.”

I cross my arms in front of my chest and give him a curt nod, glaring at him through lowered brows.

He narrows his eyes at me as an irritated growl fills my head. And then without a backwards glance, he flies off to meet his mate.

Liam and I take in the dusky sky, mottled with hues of orange and violet as the cluster of dragons become nothing more than small specks on the horizon.

He turns his gaze towards me with a joyous light in his eyes, and, for the first time in a while, I don’t hate myself completely for where I’ve put my people.

For a heartbeat, I can imagine what it might feel like to hope.

[cagedcats]

So after a tad of working on potential SkyClan allegiance for my AU, this is what I got. Names aren’t set in stone at the current moment.

Surprisingly just using the “my mother said this” usage for some of the cats added enough for me at times. Only had to yoink like three cats and adjust some ages. Since there’s no telling how old each cat is (like Fallowfern, Waspwhisker, Clovertail, and the list goes on).

Now it just leaves the Leader and Deputy. Cause idk whether to do Cloudstar or Spiderstar and their respective deputies for here. Or see if I could potentially yoink more mentioned only once cats.

Family tree idea under the cut, names will be fixed up later

Snowfall becomes the parent to Blackpelt (Ebonyclaw), Whitefur (Harveymoon), and Magpieheart (Macgyver)

Ploverflower will still have Tinycloud, Rockshade, and Bouncefire

Laurelcloud and Rainheart will have Sage and Mint

Fallowfur and Frostwhisker will have Plum Nettle Rabbit and Creek

Ploverflower’s second litter will be moved to… Ebonyclaw? Maybe? Or maybe Spiderstar’s deputy should I yoink the two of em. Idk I’ll figure it out.

Leaf either has Fire, Storm and Harry with a kittypet named Billy (yeah I’m not a fan of him, not letting him join) or she has her litter with Hornet and they co-parent.

Cherrytail has her kits either solo or with either Shrewtooth or Hutch. Or maybe even Egg once he joins.

Tinycloud can still have Pebble and Parsley. But with an unknown partner.

I guess the couples after can continue to have their kids beyond this. But idk tbh 🤷 I can’t really remember anyone beyond Pebble and Parsley. I know they exist, but what their names may be idk.

No double litters of course, I’ll work to figure out the bloodlines and a way to keep it simple for myself to remember.

But timeline wise- Firefern is an apprentice and one of the journeying cats, so probably Tinycloud would be expecting her kits when they leave the Forest territory before the others. I’ll rant about the weird SkyClan timeline issue in the tag

But yeah Firefern and the others by the time they return to the Clans- SkyClan is already gone, having left thinking she was either A) Dead or B) Taken by humans. So she joins up with ThunderClan

Also debating to yoink some random cats for future warriors as well. Such as Jessy and her mother (who I HC having some SkyClan blood) aaand maybe Smoke? Idk maybe she stayed behind in the hopes to join WindClan since she and Onewhisker were a thing and she was turned away (by him).

But idk yet

Edit: I think I’m gonna include Jessy, her mother and Smoke.

Jessy will be… Briarfang, her mother will get a miscellaneous name. Smoke will be named Fogfur or something. She can be Echo’s sister perhaps?

[sillspore]

I saw your three most recent posts separately in the warriors tag without realizing they were all by the same person and consider me HOOKED on this rewrite. anyway I’m gonna go delve though every scrap of information on it in this blog brb

aaa thank you so much!!!!! idk how far i’ll get in this rewrite bc my hyperfixation is bound to fade eventually but right now i am very much enjoying fixing tiny plot points. for the first arc anyway, if i get to the later ones the changes will be much bigger, butterfly effect and all :) once i’ve polished them, i’ll definitely post my outlines for allegiances, warrior code, clan customs, and the plot !!!!

[abellinthecupboard]

Monkey & Bear

Down in the green hay, where monkey and bear usually lay, they woke from a stable-boy’s cry. He said: “someone come quick — the horses got loose, got grass-sick — they’ll founder! Fain, they’ll die.” What is now known by the sorrel and the roan? By the chestnut, and the bay, and the gelding grey? It is: stay by the gate that you are given. And remain in your place, for your season. And had the overfed dead but listened to the high-fence, horse-sense, wisdom… “Did you hear that, bear?” said Monkey, “we’ll get out of here, fair and square: they left the gate open wide! “So, my bride, Here is my hand, where is your paw? Try and understand my plan, Ursala. My heart is a furnace, full of love that's just, and earnest. Now. You know that we must unlearn this allegiance to a life of service, and no longer answer to that heartless hay-monger, nor be his accomplice — (the charlatan, with artless hustling!) But Ursala, we’ve got to eat something, and earn our keep, while still within the borders of the land that man has girded, (all double-bolted and tightfisted!), until we reach the open country, a-steeped in milk and honey. Will you keep your fancy clothes on, for me? Can you bear a little longer to wear that leash? “My love, I swear by the air I breathe: Sooner or later, you’ll bare your teeth. “But for now, just dance, darling. C’mon, will you dance, my darling? Darling, there’s a place for us; can we go, before I turn to dust? My darling there’s a place for us. “Darling. C’mon will you dance, My darling? The hills are groaning with excess, like a table ceaselessly being set. My darling we will get there yet.” They trooped past the guards, past the coops, and the fields, and the farmyards, all night, till finally, the space they gained grew much farther than the stone that bear threw, to mark where they’d stop for tea. But, “Walk a little faster, and don’t look backwards— your feast is to the East, which lies a little past the pasture. “When the blackbirds hear tea whistling they rise and clap. Their applause caws the kettle black. And we can’t have none of that! Move along, Bear; there, there; that’s that.” (Though cast in plaster, our Ursala’s heart beat faster than monkey’s ever will.) But still, they had got to pay the bills. Hadn’t they? That is what the monkey'd say. So, with the courage of a clown, or a cur, or a kite, jerking tight at its tether, in her dun-brown gown of fur, and her jerkin of swansdown and leather, Bear would sway on her hind legs; the organ would grind dregs of song, for the pleasure of the children who’d shriek, throwing coins at her feet, then recoiling in terror. Sing, “dance, darling. C’mon, will you dance, my darling? Darling, there’s a place for us; can we go, before I turn to dust? My darling, there’s a place for us. Darling. C’mon, will you dance, my darling? You keep your eyes fixed on the highest hill, where you’ll ever-after eat your fill. O my darling…dear…mine…if you dance, dance, darling, and I'll love you still.” Deep in the night shone a weak and miserly light, where the monkey shouldered his lamp. Someone had told him the bear’d been wandering a fair piece away from where they were camped. Someone had told him the bear had been sneaking away, to the seaside caverns, to bathe; and the thought troubled the monkey, for he was afraid of spelunking down in those caves. Also afraid what the village people would say, if they saw the bear in that state— lolling and splashing obscenely well, it seemed irrational, really, washing that face; washing that matted and flea-bit pelt in some sea-spit-shine— old kelp dripping with brine. But monkey just laughed, and he muttered, “When she comes back, Ursala will be bursting with pride— till I jump up! Saying, ‘You’ve been rolling in muck! Saying, ‘You smell of garbage and grime!’” But far out, far out, by now, by now— far out, by now, Bear ploughed, Because she would Not drown: First the outside-legs of the bear up and fell down, in the water, like knobby garters, Then the outside-arms of the bear fell off, as easy as if sloughed from boiled tomatoes. Low’red in a genteel curtsy, bear shed the mantle of her diluvian shoulders; and, with a sigh, she allowed the burden of belly to drop, like an apronful of boulders. If you could hold up her threadbare coat to the light, where it’s worn translucent in places, you’d see spots where, almost every night of the year, Bear had been mending, suspending that baseness. Now her coat drags through the water, bagging, with a life’s-worth of hunger, limitless minnows; in the magnetic embrace, balletic and glacial, of bear’s insatiable shadow— Left there! Left there! When bear Left bear; Left there, Left there, When bear stepped clear of bear. (Sooner or later you'll bury your teeth)

— Joanna Newsom, Ys (2006) (X)

[feirceangel]

Imagine | Love (Jean Pierre Polnareff

A/n: the gif is not mine!

Warning: this does get steamy but there aren't any details, it's just implied for the most part 

M/n = male name

Word Count: 2269

~

It's been a week since you were defeated by the Stardust Crusaders and freed from Dio's mind control. Since then, you've sworn allegiance to their cause, vowing to help them vanquish Dio and save Jotaro's mother (who you have never even met).

For the most part, everyone was very welcoming when you switched sides, albeit Jotaro was standoffish and they did take time to fully trust you.

Polnareff and Kakyoin were very open with you from the start, seeing as they had been under Dio's spell before. They sympathized with your predicaments and you with theirs.

Now, you are close with each member of the group, having earned their trust many times over.

In particular, Polnareff has grown extremely fond of you.

Every chance he gets, he is by your side. Whether it be sitting next to you, walking beside you, or requesting to share a room with you.

When this behaviour started, you didn't really give it much thought. He simply liked your presence, and you certainly didn't mind his.

As the journey goes on, though, you are beginning to feel crowded by the Frenchman. He never lets you do anything without him (apart from using the restroom), claiming that it's for your own protection.

Currently, you're trying not to get angry at the white-haired male as he gives you a lecture on sticking close to the group until Dio is defeated.

"For the last time, Polnareff, I am not a child. You cannot continue treating me as such," you manage to say calmly, fixing cold eyes upon his.

He flounders, "I know you're not an enfant, cherie! I just want to keep you safe! You understand, don't you?"

His eyes contain hurt, as if he's insulted that you think that he thinks you are a kid. At his last statement, you think for a moment. You realize that you're being a bit unfair.

After all, when the team 'lost' Avdol, Polnareff was inconsolable and started really keeping an eye on you. He lost his sister as well, undoubtedly giving him some abandonment issues.

You sigh and gently rest you hand on his arm, "I understand, Polly, but I need space to breathe sometimes. You can't keep suffocating me because you're scared I'll get hurt. I can take care of myself."

Before he can argue further, you walk out the hotel door, "I'm going for a walk, alone. I'll be back later. You guys can eat without me. Can you tell the others for me?"

He watches you walk away without looking back, "Okay."

Turning, he goes to the rest of the group.

"Where's Y/n?" Joseph asks, handing the Frenchman a key.

"She went for a walk, she said she'll be back for later and to eat without her," he tells them, his usual smile gone.

Avdol notices his dour demeanour, "Are you alright, Polnareff?"

"Of course," he nods and forces a smile.

|||||

As you walk, you keep checking your surroundings to ensure that you're not being followed. With no enemy Stand users in sight, you relax immensely, enjoying the peace.

After a time, you return to the hotel and head straight to the restaurant. You sit at the bar, placing your order and waiting.

Your thoughts rest upon the subject of Polnareff.

It's no secret that he feels something towards you, seeing as he flirts relentlessly and calls you pet names. But, how do you feel about him?

He's honourable, kind, sweet... the list of wonderful things goes on and on. Even if he is a bit clingy, his good qualities overthrow that.

You respect him, and he seems to reciprocate your mutual bond of respect and trust. Out of all the others, you're closest with him, but is that simply because he never leaves you alone?

Sighing, you sip your drink idly as someone sits beside you.

You pay the man no attention, going so far as to tilt away from him. You're not in the mood for company, especially a stranger's.

"Hey, baby. How about I buy you a drink?"

Not wanting to be entirely rude, you shake your head, "No thank you. I have one already."

"I can buy you another, if you want," he grins.

He's not bad looking and he appears to be around your age. His smile is easygoing and you don't feel threatened by him at all.

Your lips twitch into a small smile, "We'll see."

Taking the opportunity, he introduces himself and strikes up conversation. You talk with him, actually enjoying yourself.

Your food arrives and so does his. As you eat, you continue conversing, mainly about yours and his home countries.

The meal is over and you smile cheekily, "I suppose I could have another drink."

"It would be my pleasure to buy you one," he chuckles and gets the waiter's attention.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain Frenchman has been observing the whole encounter since the beginning, his rage growing by the minute. Seeing another man flirt with you and make you smile fills him with burning jealousy.

How dare that stranger try to take you away from him!

You thank the man for the drink and move closer to him, excited that this night is going so well.

Polnareff barely suppresses a growl as you lean playfully against the handsome stranger. He can't just stand by and do nothing.

Determined, he approaches the bar.

You look up in surprise as Polnareff makes an appearance. Inside, you wish wouldn't ruin your unofficial 'date'.

Unfortunately, he comes right to you with a false smile, "Hey, Y/n!"

"Who's this?" M/n asks.

"This is Polnareff. He's in my travel group," you say, dying on the inside.

Why is he cock-blocking you?! Don't you deserve some fun after all you've been through?

"Pol, this is M/n," you finish the introduction, trying to silently tell Polnareff to go away.

Your attempts go unnoticed by both parties as the buff Frenchman seats himself beside you.

"So, where have you been?" Polnareff questions you, losing some of his joviality.

Narrowing your eyes, you respond, "I told you, I went on a walk around town. Didn't you eat already?"

He shrugs, "I'm thirsty so I thought I'd get a drink. Is that a crime?"

M/n seems to pick up on your irritation, no doubt experiencing some of his own. "I think we were actually going to take this elsewhere, right, Y/n?"

You nod, thankful to M/n, "Yeah. See you tomorrow, Pol."

He watches you leave, grinding his teeth as you slip your hand into M/n's.

He won't let you slip through his fingers like this, and he especially won't let that stranger touch you when he himself hasn't laid hands on you yet.

Standing, he follows a safe distance behind, anger fuelling his actions.

|||||

M/n leads the way to his room, which is stationed on the opposite side of the hotel from the rest of your group's.

He grins and opens the door for you.

You waste no time and enter the clean room with confidence before turning to M/n. Before you can do anything, M/n drops to the ground, eyes shut.

Confused, you crouch down and examine him. He's still alive.

Is this the work of an enemy Stand?

"Mon amour," a husky voice answers your unspoken query.

Looking up, your startled eyes meet Polnareff's.

"What the hell?!" You leap to your feet and glare at the larger man. "What did you do?!"

"He's alright, I simply knocked him unconscious, not that you should care."

He steps over M/n's sleeping form, moving closer to you. You step back, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed.

"I shouldn't care? Of course I care, he's innocent! Unless you have proof he was an enemy Stand user..."

He makes a tsk sound and leans closer to you, too close for comfort. "I had to deal with him, amoureux. He was coming between us."

You instinctively bring your hands up and try to push him away. He doesn't budge as a smirk taints his soft pink lips.

"Pol, you're scaring me," you feel trapped.

That statement seems to snap him out of his odd behaviour, at least a bit. He backs off of you and lets you pass him.

"You shouldn't have done that, Jean Pierre Polnareff," you scold, angry and a bit frightened. "We're not dating or anything. I'm allowed to do whatever I want in my spare time."

Your words simply add fuel to his angry flame, "Do I have to teach you, ma cherie, that you're mine and no one else's?"

He gently trails his hand across your shoulders before gripping your arm tightly. Eyes wide, you are dragged alongside the Frenchman to your shared room.

"Let me go!"

He ignores your protests, locking the door behind him as he finally releases you.

Your Stand appears, ready to battle it out, "Is this the work of an enemy? What's happening?!"

He chuckles, Silver Chariot at the ready. "It's not an enemy, ma chere Y/n."

You stare at him blankly.

"I love you, Y/n. I love you so much! I couldn't let some other man take you away from me."

"I'm not yours, Polnareff. I don't belong to anyone!" You refute, "Now move, I'm not spending the night anywhere near you!"

"Tsk, no can do, l'amour. I'm not letting you leave until I prove my love," he moves closer to you.

While you're distracted, he uses Silver Chariot to restrain your weaker Stand. You can't move as terror strikes you.

"Don't," your voice shakes, "Polly, don't do this."

He ignores you pleas, slowly melding his lips to yours. Tears flow down your cheeks and he swipes them away with a caring touch. He rests his forehead against yours, "I won't do anything you don't want. You can't tell me you don't like this."

You tilt away from him, "Polnareff, you have to know this isn't right! I'm sorry if I've lead you on, but-"

"I know you feel the same way that I do," he says again, gaze hardening. "You were going to sleep with that man when you'd only just met! I love you, Y/n. Surely that means something to you!"

Ashamed, you can't stop the waterworks. "This is different. You're trying to control me."

"I only want to protect you. I love you, amoureux. Only you."

He kisses your cheek, and you'd be lying if you said you hated the action. But, you hate how he's acting as if you don't get a say.

"Just because you may love someone, doesn't mean you can attack someone they show an interest in! You're acting crazy."

Again, his gaze hardens. "You don't understand."

"No, I don't. You need to let me go, Polnareff," you feel like he's caving in. Maybe you can talk him out of this foolishness.

His grip on you tightens, "I love you. It might take awhile but I know you'll learn to love me back."

"Let me go."

"I could never do that, Y/n." His hands trail down your back, "Please give me a chance. I know you won't regret it and if you do, I promise I will leave you alone. Just give us a chance."

He looks pleadingly into your eyes, which are now devoid of tears. Is he giving you options or is this a trick?

He releases you and steps back, expressing his desperation on his handsome face. Silver Chariot also releases your own Stand.

Earlier in the day, weren't you thinking about how you would consider Polnareff as a romantic partner?

But, he's acting crazy.

But, he loves you.

But, he attacked M/n.

But, he's usually so sweet.

Conflicted, you don't move. What should you do?

He waits patiently, terrified that you'll reject him.

You come to a decision, albeit, a very controversial one.

"I'll give it a chance, but you cannot repeat what happened tonight. If you hurt anyone else, I'll leave you," you state, still a bit uncertain.

A huge smile brightens his face, "I won't. Je ne peux pas exprimer à quel point je suis heureux!"

You can't help but feel happy that he's so excited.

He approaches you, less menacingly this time, and wraps his arms around your smaller frame. You look into his eyes, not seeing any ill intent.

"If you don't want to-" he begins.

You brings your hands to rest against his defined abs, "I want to, Jean. I... trust you."

Just don't let me down.

|||||

[Bonus]

You wake up in his arms, warm and comforted. His hair is uncharacteristically down, creating a truly gorgeous scene.

Last night had been passionate and unrestrained and you definitely feel the after effects.

Polnareff wakes up, peppering you with kisses before you both pack your things and head off to meet the others.

You wince as you walk, trying to ignore the subtle ache as you greet the Crusaders.

"Good morning," you smile shyly.

Mr. Joe star's eyes widen and he begins to laugh. Avdol chuckles and so does Kakyoin. Jotaro smirks the tiniest bit.

You frown, "What's funny?"

"You finally got lucky, huh, Polnareff?" Mr. Joestar grins.

A hot blush attacks your face as the Frenchman snakes an arm around your shoulder. You turn to see him also blushing furiously.

Then, you realize what gave it away: the purplish splotches that mar his white skin.

You must have twice the amount of hickeys on your own skin.

Tugging at your shirt collar, you push past the chuckling men, "Shut up!"

[masterofrecords]

Angstober day 14: Ashes to Life

Ashes of the World Long Gone

“Don’t you think it’s pointless? It’s obvious I have no talent for swordplay.” Augustine panted, already winded up from the short practice. The sword felt heavy in his arm, his shoulder ached, trembling with each parry, and he could feel a giant bruise forming on his upper thigh. Bowing to his tutor with any sort of dignity had been a challenge.

“Besides, it’s not like I need it. I could just… command my opponent to stop and they would stop,” he hissed quieter in his mother’s ear under the guise of grabbing the jug of water from the bench she was sitting on.

He also desperately needed a drink, so it wasn’t entirely a ruse.

She narrowed her eyes at him and with a gesture dismissed his tutor, to Augustine’s eternal relief.

“You realize you can’t use your magic in every situation, right? Some people will resist it, some creatures are impervious to such control. What do you plan to do then?”

“Yeah, well, if I meet someone that bad, a sword will be the last thing to save me!” Augustine took a deep breath and willed himself not to blow up. It was easy for her to talk – she could be whatever she wanted to be, quite literally, so long as she could offer her body to an appropriate spirit.

Even though Augustine would never say it out loud, it felt a little like cheating on her part.

“Mother,” he started, unsure how to phrase it without sounding like an ungrateful brat. “I appreciate what you’re doing for me, but… maybe you could let me figure out on my own what works for me.”

She sighed and stood up, fixing the eyepatch on her left eye. Augustine wondered if she actually was nervous, and that thought sat uncomfortably with him. She’d always been strong – versatile, knowledgeable, if sometimes forceful. She’d always had a tight hold on her emotions, and taught Augustine to do the same, so seeing any outward signs of her inner turmoil was extremely unusual.

“I just worry, dear.” She came up to him and reached up to stroke his face. “I know… what kinds of things are out there. I know what kinds of things covet the sort of talent you have. I don’t want you to be caught unprepared.”

Augustine allowed himself to crack a small reassuring smile. “My talent isn’t that rare, mother. And I know how to be careful. I’ll be fine, I promise. Just let me figure out my life on my own.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it in his, trying to be reassuring and confident.

He must have done something right, because after a few moments of staring his mother patted his cheek and took a step back. “I know. But I’m your mother, it’s my job to worry.”

“I know,” he echoed. “But you need to let me go at some point.”

…that had been three months ago and on second thought, maybe that point could afford to come a little later.

Sheila, his current traveling companion and temporary bodyguard, nimbly tugged him by the arm, making the longsword miss his neck by a hair’s breadth. She kicked the masked man in the crotch and used the momentum to pivot into another attacker, landing a clean hit on his throat.

“Any minute now, kid!”

And wasn’t like Augustine wasn’t trying, but it was very hard to concentrate when there were weapons flying around everywhere. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, finding the strings to the minds of people around him and tugging the right way once he saw an opening.

The enemy right in front of Sheila froze, and she knocked him out with a large “whoop!” before dancing to the next man, and the next one…

After that first success, Augustine felt easier. The assassin trying to sneak on Sheila suddenly dropped his weapons, the large guy to his left grabbed his head and bent over in excruciating pain. Sheila made quick work of the rest.

“Well. Any idea why they were after you?” Sheila finally asked, curiously patting the pockets of the one that seemed to be the leader – Augustine wasn’t sure if she was looking for signs of his allegiance or just trying to rob the man dry.

“How do you know they were after me? Maybe it’s you they wanted!”

“Yeah, right.” Sheila sent him a pointed look. “I know the kind of people that come after me.”

Eventually she fished a letter out of her victim’s pocket and turned it over in her hands several times.

“I have no idea what this says,” she shrugged and passed it over to Augustine.

He could see why she would have difficulty. It was written in an old, dead language, rarely needed by anyone but academics. Even he struggled, but he got the idea.

“It’s a location,” he announced. “A rather convoluted way to send an address, but I think I know what it’s talking about.”

“Huh. No names?”

“No names.”

Sheila bit her lower lip and frowned. “So is it a location to… pick up the reward? To bring you to?”

Augustine reread the letter. “It’s just a place. It doesn’t say anything else.”

“Smells like a trap,” Sheila hummed. After a moment she elbowed his side almost gently, “Want to check it out?”

Augustine sighed. Of all of his and his mother’s acquaintances, Sheila was probably the most fun one, but also one of the most reckless. Still, he couldn’t deny he was curious.

“Maybe,” he admitted, and Sheila beamed. “But not tonight! We’ll go in the morning. The letter didn’t mention any specific time.”

“Spoilsport,” Sheila pouted, but yielded. “We probably should deal with those guys, too.”

That took a surprisingly short time – Sheila easily strongarmed some drunkards at the tavern into bringing all the attackers to the police station, and Augustine hurried to entice them further with the promise of a generous reward for delivering wanted criminals.

(He had no idea if that was true, but what mattered was that it was believable enough.)

When he went to bed, the adrenaline must have been still running through his veins, because he slept terribly, his dreams haunted by vague whispers and strange figures. When he woke up he could barely cling to the remnants of those dreams, and decided it would be more productive to focus on waking Sheila up and finding the mysterious place.

They had to ask around some, which was harder than it should have been due to the extremely early hour. Eventually their search led them to an old, slightly lopsided tower on the edge of the town, that looked like something from either a fairy tale or a horror story.

“Definitely a trap,” Sheila nodded wisely. “Keep close.”

With every step they took towards the door, Augustine felt more and more uneasy. Something about this place didn’t sit right with him, but he couldn’t see or hear anything suspicious. The stone arch of the entrance had some old religious symbols on it, but nothing to indicate the tower’s purpose.

They exchanged looks, and then Sheila shrugged and knocked.

Within seconds, the door flung open. A man stood in the doorway, well-built and with a sword on his hip, but with weird little glasses on his nose that looked like they would fall at any moment.

“Ah, you’re here!” the man exclaimed. “Do come in, I’ve been expecting you.”

Augustine could feel Sheila’s gaze on his back. He… wasn’t sure he wanted to come in. Still, he took a single step into the tower, and then the man turned again, looking over Augustine’s shoulder at Sheila.

“Not you!” he laughed almost hysterically and the door swung close. Augustine jerked back, calling for his friend, but the man caught him by the collar and tugged further into the tower.

“Now, now, we have something to talk about.”

The close contact was unsettling. Augustine had never liked to be touched when he couldn’t feel in control of it, and this stranger kept a firm enough hold on his shirt that it was a little difficult to breathe.

“I just want to talk, really,” the stranger kept on babbling. “Here, here, isn’t this nice?”

Augustine found himself in a small round room with some kind of mechanism on the table in the middle. The walls were filled with writing of some kind, but it was mostly illegible. Augustine could only make out some symbols, the names of ancient gods and devils.

The stranger unsheathed his sword then, and Augustine stepped back, uneasy.

“Touch it,” the stranger ordered.

“What?”

The stranger smiled again, a toothy, happy smile. The man was mad, Augustine decided. Or maybe this was all an elaborate dream fueled by his imagination and last night’s squabble.

“Touch the device. Now, go on.” The man prodded him with a sword, making Augustine move closer to the table.

Augustine eyed the device curiously. It didn’t seem like much, just some metal figures and gears, but he knew appearances could be deceiving. Carefully, he pressed one finger to the smooth surface, and after a few moments the device came to life.

It spun, a dim glow coming from somewhere inside it, and Augustine felt a strange pull on his mind.

He immediately took his hand back, alarmed, and turned to his kidnapper.

“You live…” the stranger exhaled, reverent.

“I… shouldn’t have?” Augustine swallowed around his dry throat. The device thrummed, insistent, and the stranger laughed.

“Ah, who cares! I have finally found a vessel.”

“What?” Augustine’s head spun. “A vessel for what?”

Was the man trying to summon a demon or something? Augustine was certain it didn’t work like that.

The man’s laugh turned almost sobbing.

“I touched it too, you know? I was strong, I survived. But I wasn’t worthy, you see, I wasn’t worthy of being a vessel. I don’t have the strength to call a god’s soul to this realm. But you… oh, you do! I’ve spent so long looking for someone like you!” The man’s eyes were manic, and for the first time that morning, Augustine felt truly afraid.

Whatever that device was, it had driven this man to insanity and who knew how many others to their deaths.

Whatever that device was, the stranger was nudging Augustine’s hand to put it back there, and if he could just get away for long enough to concentrate…

Maybe he should have learned the sword, after all.

Distantly, Augustine wondered why it was so quiet. He would have expected Sheila to have broken the door by then, to raise a racket outside. But it was as if the tower was completely cut off from the outside world, or maybe he got taken further in than he realized.

His palm was pressed forcefully on the part of the machine that looked like an hourglass, and the whirring picked up again, as did the pressure on Augustine’s mind. Something clicked, and Augustine had to take a few steps back as the device lit up and started unfolding.

What could previously be taken as a bizarre decoration eventually took up the greater part of the room, looking more like a cage than anything else. The glow from within started pulsing, and Augustine suddenly felt exhausted. He tried to take his hand back, but it was almost crushed in the other man’s grip, who nonetheless wasn’t paying Augustine any attention.

Then, a figure appeared in the center of the cage. It was as if it was carved from shadows cast by the device’s glow, unsteady and not-quite-there.

“I did it…” the man exhaled disbelievingly, and then laughed again. “I did it! I did as you wanted! I found you a vessel!”

The shadows moved, and suddenly one hand reached out of the cage towards the two of them. Augustine flinched away, but it aimed for the other man, landing on his head.

“Oh, child,” the darkness whispered, the voice echoing in different timbres across the room. “I never wanted this for you.”

The madman’s hopeful smile dimmed.

“You rest, now,” the darkness continued, and then to Augustine’s horror the man’s grip on him lessened, and the stranger collapsed on the floor with glassy eyes.

Augustine ripped himself away, but nothing changed. The person in the cage remained there, shimmering with the whirring of the machine.

Whatever it was, Augustine knew it was dangerous, and he reached out with his mind, but only found nothingness. The creature didn’t move, and Augustine hurried to pick up the sword the madman had dropped when he fell.

And yet, the creature still didn’t attack. In fact it was as if it was… smiling.

The first wave of panic subsided, and Augustine took a careful step forward. “What are you?..” he questioned, and to his surprise, the shadow spoke.

“You shouldn’t have come for me.”

“It wasn’t by choice,” Augustine replied, defensive for a reason he couldn’t name.

“You should leave.” The figure’s features focused a bit more, but Augustine still couldn’t make out much beyond loose robes and messy hair. “This was never meant to happen.”

“What was not meant to happen?!” Augustine asked, exasperated. “What’s going on, who are you?”

The glow within the machine started turning a brighter color, and the metal of the cage grew hot and uncomfortable to the touch. Augustine started, looking at his hands. He hadn’t realized when he’d come so close, when he’d gripped the device. For some reason, he couldn’t force himself to leave.

The shadow came closer and pushed him with one finger on the chest, making him stumble from the unexpected force. He didn’t drop dead, and his head suddenly cleared, but the figure in the cage lost some of its definition and the walls started trembling.

“Leave,” the whispers repeated. There was something familiar about the voice, even though Augustine couldn’t place it and couldn’t even tell how the voice really sounded, too full of reverb and echoes. “This place was never for mortals to find.”

“Who are you?!” Augustine cried desperately, clawing at the barrier that grew hotter with every minute. He wasn’t sure why, but he needed to be there, to break the wall, to drag them out of there…

“I am the ashes of a world that had died long ago,” the voice whispered in his ear, suddenly close. “I am but a memory. Don’t cling to ghosts.”

“Austin? Who the heck are you talking to?!” Sheila’s voice broke through the whispers in his head. “Have you gone mad? We need to get out of here!”

The whisper was barely audible by then, the space around them cracking and collapsing with a sound that made Augustine’s head hurt. “Never meant… to happen like this…”  

Sheila grabbed his arm, and Augustine let himself be dragged. His head was spinning, and only once they were safely outside and Sheila started frantically checking him out for any injuries, he realized he was still clutching at the sword.

He looked at it, unsure. No weapon had ever felt comfortable in his hand, but this one felt somehow right. He looked at it, and to his surprise the sword became slightly shorter and lighter in front of his eyes, its weight perfect for his arm. Some kind of writing began to show on the blade, and Augustine brought it closer to his eyes to make out the delicate letters.

A phoenix burns, to rise anew from ashes.

“Old world that had died long ago,” Augustine thought. What was the mysterious person trying to say? Were the mysteries of the past really not worth seeking?

Sheila was looking at him weirdly, and he raised a tired eyebrow.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Your hair…” she started, looking uncertain, and Augustine brought a hand to card it through his hair.

It was there, at least, the short strands feeling familiar under his fingers. But Sheila was shaking her head almost pityingly, and Augustine brought the sword up unthinkingly to cut a lock of hair.

It fell from his fingers, waltzing in the wind, and Augustine suddenly understood the reason behind Sheila’s expression.

The hair that just that morning had been completely black, was a pure, stark white.

He suddenly felt very, very tired.

“Are you alright, Austin?” Sheila asked. “Did that… did he do something to you?”

The more Augustine though about it, the more he wondered if it was the man’s fault at all. Faced with a power beyond imaginative, driven to madness by an artifact he couldn’t control or understand… Now that everything was over, he felt pity rather than fear.

“I’m fine, Sheila,” he murmured and looked back at the tower that seemed to be melting and collapsing on itself.

“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.

Augustine looked down at the sword in his hand, and remembered the sorrowful ghost from the tower. This wasn’t something he could fix, but maybe… just maybe, he could make sure something like that wouldn’t happen again.

-----

I, uh. Should have known better than trying to fit Director Hayes’s entire backstory into a single oneshot. So this is late because it’s so fucking long oh my goodness why did I have to write something so long

Link to the masterlist

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

John Munch / Simple

Prompt: “Suck it” “oh i’m gonna suck something” 

Word Count: 3,887 

Warnings: canon typical situations and violence, discussion of rape (non-graphic), hurt/comfort apparently, fin and munch are literally some of my fav characters to write for lmao, some discussion of the psych evals from 1x22

A/N: what is this? how did this happen? I don’t know - i blame @laneygthememequeen​ mostly, but also my friends for enabling me beyond belief lmao. 

“Am I allowed to come in or must I bow and show my allegiance before I am deemed worthy?” and you didn’t need to look up from your desk to know who it was. Your pen still moved, scribbling notes in the margins of the answer that was given to you by Roger Klessler — more hassle than law. 

“No need for allegiance, Detective Munch — I know you only give that to your squad and your string of conspiracy theories,” you finish with the page, sparing him a glance, “only compliance is needed — the one thing you didn’t do on the last case.” 

“Your hands aren’t exactly clean yourself, counselor,” he shuts the door behind him, slipping his hands into his pockets, “what did you do to get that warrant again?” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Are you questioning my integrity?” 

“Funny, I didn’t know lawyers had any,” 

“They don’t, but I can try, can’t I?” you lean on your elbow, “what do you need?” 

“We have a suspect in holding who just invoked, we thought they might be a little more conducive to having an A.D.A. in the box with them,” he tilted his head. 

“Alex isn’t available?” 

“Alex told us to get you,” you held in your sigh, “don’t you lawyers talk to each other?” 

“No, we communicate through telepathy,” you reply drily, grabbing your coat and bag, “Let’s go.” 

~~~

“Counselor, you should remind your client that his options are running out,” to say this meeting was going poorly would have been the understatement of the century, “and my patience is running thin.”

A serial child and women abuser — with videos abusing so many children and women over the last twenty years, videos that made your stomach turn — and to make matters worse, he had made into a business, selling these children and women and their pain for profit — and now it was time to make his pain your profit. 

“You have no evidenc—” 

“We have a witness who saw your client, we have his DNA being run against the blood that was found at the scene, and when it comes back it will match and your client will be facing life in prison—” your teeth grit,  “And I’ll be sure he gets it. Or, give up your sick buddies. And maybe you’ll have the possibility of parole in the far off future.” 

“You fucking bitch—” he spits at you. 

“Is that the best you can do?” you raise an eyebrow, as you see Munch tense out of the corner of your eye, “Mr. Bradford,  I’m not scared of you. I’m not a defenseless child or battered woman you can intimidate—” you cross your arms, “not so easy picking on someone who can fight back, is it?” 

 Bradford lunges,  but Munch shoves him back into his chair, “Do we need to add assault on an A.D.A. to your laundry list of charges, Bradford?” and you blink, slack jawed, a shiver going down your spine — if Munch was a second later— “Try that again and I’ll have you—” 

There’s a knock on the window, and your eyes snap over, “Control your client, counselor, or I’ll have him locked up in solitary,” your jaw is set — you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing you waver, “the offer had 24 hours — it now has an expiration date in ten, so look forward to hearing from you in one.” 

The door shuts behind you, your fingers white knuckling the handle of your briefcase. Liv frowns, “Are you—” 

“I’m fine,” you wave them off, as Munch emerges from the room as well, “tell me when he caves to my offer. And when you’re setting up the sting to get the other guys — I want to be there to make everything go smoothly. No screw ups this time.” 

“All due respect, counselor, but we don’t need a babysitter,” Fin says. 

“All due respect, Detective, maybe you do,” you swallow the lump sitting on your throat, “we need to nail these guys — we have all of New York, 1PP, and the D.A.’s office all breathing down our necks — it needs to be airtight,” you scan all of their faces, “unless all of you would like to take the heat?” 

“I don’t think any of us want that, counselor,” Cragen cuts in, “we appreciate your help. We’ll let you know when we decide to go ahead with the sting.” 

You nod curtly, intent on leaving the precinct as quickly as you could — the image of Bradford lunging at you still fresh and stinging — but nothing was that easy, “Counselor,” Munch was at your side, standing beside you at the elevators, as you pressed the button, “in a rush?” 

“To go home? Yes,” 

“I just wanted—” 

“Wanted what, Munch? What do you want?” you sigh exasperatedly, fighting a losing battle for your voice not to break, “I’m not in the mood for a verbal sparring match, so why don’t we take a rain check?” 

The elevator doors ding, and you step in, hoping to spare yourself the agony of a response, but he follows, the doors shutting behind him. 

But surprisingly his voice was soft,  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” 

“I’m fine,” you cross your arms, hoping that it would hold you together, until you got to your office, “I’m not scared of him, Munch—” 

“I know you could kick his ass, counselor, I’m not asking you if you’re ready to go seven rounds in the ring with him—” he leans against the wall of the elevator, “I’m just asking if you’re alright.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “John Munch asking me if I’m alright? No sarcastic remark?” 

“I know, I’m surprised myself, I might have to ask Skoda to do a psych eval on me,” and you crack a smile, shaking your head. 

“It was scary,” you admit, something you didn’t want to, “I’ve been threatened before — messages, verbally, even had a guy say he would kill my family—” you bite your lip, “but I never had someone try something, physically before.” 

“It’s okay to have been scared, y’know,” the elevator doors ding, and you step out, shaking your head, “no one expects you to be strong all the time, counselor.” 

And you pause, looking back at him, “But I do,” you blink away the tears, “good night, detective.” 

~~~

“It’s too risky!” you ignore Munch, continuing to fix your makeup, “You saw how you acted when Bradford lunged at you — why—” 

“I would do anything to make sure these men get put away,” you finish your makeup, grabbing the outfit Liv had handed you, “and that includes this.” 

This being an undercover operation designed to get names of victims, ages, and dates if possible, before arresting the group for exchanging pictures and videos of their crimes. 

“Putting yourself in the middle of this chaos? You’re being reckless—” 

You slide past him and into a bathroom stall, “I know what I’m doing,” 

“Do you? Do you know how many things could go wrong?” he continues, “I could list them for you for posterity — assault, battery, rape, and let’s not forget murder—” 

“I don’t think Liv will let me get murdered when she’s in the room with me, and I would you, Fin, Stabler, and the Captain wouldn’t either—” 

“Things go wrong on these ops, counselor — the field isn’t as safe as a courtroom — court officers, a metal detector right outside—” 

His words fail when the door swings open, a skin tight bodysuit clung to your figure, crimson, just as his ears nearly were, his eyes raking over your outfit, before finding their way back to your raised brows, “You were saying?” 

He stumbles over his words, “I was saying that—” you cross your arms, waiting and he finds himself distracted all over again, before he shakes himself from his stupor, “I was saying that this is too dangerous—” 

“Munch—” you cut him off, “I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I’m going to nail these guys anyway I can, so you can’t change my mind,” your hand finds his shoulder, squeezing, “but I can count on you to have my back right?” 

He simmers, sighing, his eyes softening, “Of course,” and you squeeze his shoulder, and he calls after you as you head towards the squadroom,  “I just hope they taught you taekwondo in law school,” 

“And I hope you know by ‘having my back,’ I meant more than my ass,” you flash him a smile over your shoulder, shaking your head, and flexing your fingers. 

It would be fine. 

You would be fine. 

~~~

It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t find you. 

“Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch, he took—” 

“Munch, calm down,” Liv starts, and he’s shaking his head, his finger in his face. 

“You were supposed to watch them, you were supposed to—” 

“Hey, Munch,” Elliot cuts between him and his partner, his hand on his shoulder,  “we all were there, Bradford slipped out during the raid, there wasn’t anything we could do. We’re going to find them.” 

Munch brushes him away, finding Fin, “Where are we on Bradford?” 

“Got him sneaking out during the takedown,” Fin points you out in the crowd, “looks like he had a knife pressed against counselor’s back, just out of view.” 

“How the hell did that scum sucking, gangrenous low life of a—” 

“Looks like he stole it off one of his buddies he was setting up,” Fin rewinds the tape, and points it out, “lifts it right from his pocket.” 

“Where does he go?” Fin fast forwards, until he gets to the cameras outside, shooting from the van itself. 

“He steals a car down the street, must belong to that brownstone,” Fin shoves the equipment at another officer, “Let’s get the license plate and get a bolo out.” 

Liv and Elliot join the two of them, handing a report to Fin, “We got a list of places that Bradford was known to hang out at—” 

“What are we waiting for?” Munch brushes past them to the car, rounding the car to the driver’s seat, pulling it open, before Fin stops him. 

“I’m driving,” Fin says, holding his hand, and Munch opens his mouth to rebut, “do we really have time to argue right now?” 

Munch glares at him, before handing him the keys, “You better not abide by any traffic laws,” 

“Do I ever?” 

~~~

“Can we go any faster than this? I swear my great uncle could drive faster than this,” Munch expects his partner to be angry, but he’s only sighing and shaking his head, “what?” 

And Fin side eyes him, “If you’re in love with—” 

Munch gapes at him, “I’m not—” 

“--then why don’t you just say something, man?” Fin scoffs, “you can deny it all you want, explain it away with one of your crazy ass conspiracy theories, but it’s there, John.” 

Munch pulls off his glasses, running his hand over his face, fingers resting right below his nose, “You know every time I got married, I thought I was in love,” 

“I know, and then your ex-wives screwed you — what about it?” 

“This is different,” he sighs, “and I don’t want to admit that to myself.” 

“What’s so bad about that, Munch? You want to try again,” and Munch is shaking his head. 

“You know a psychiatrist once told me that the reason all my marriages failed was because I chose women who were spoiled, beautiful, and not my intellectual equal?” 

“Meeting some of your ex-wives, I could believe that,” Fin’s eyes fall back to the road, “what’s your point?” 

Your name slips from his lips, “this is different — this is someone’s who's my equal — smarter than me, beautiful— it could — we could be—” he cuts off, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose--” and he cuts off, sighing, “I don’t know.” 

“Well that’s easy, John,” Fin pulls over, the car screeching as it does, “we won’t,” and he jerks his head, “whose car does that look like?” Munch calls in the car, unbuckling himself and slipping from the car, “We have to wait for back-up—” 

“I’m not waiting—” before he adds, “you don’t have to come—” 

“I’m not letting your bony ass get shot again,” Fin is already shutting the car door, pulling his gun out, “let’s go.” 

~~~

“Are you scared now?” Bradford asks, circling you — a predator gauging its prey — no, he was simply playing with you now. Your wrists flex against your restraints, the wood grain of the chair digging into your skin the more you struggled, the rope around your wrists ungiving, “are you, counselor?” 

It was rhetorical — judging by the tape stuck to your lips and the fact he continued to speak, and his fingers fist into your hair, pulling your head back, “Come on, no smart remarks now?”

Are you that stupid that you’ve forgotten that you taped my mouth over? 

No, wait he was that stupid. 

And he slaps you — the sting of his palm against your cheek dazes you a moment, and then his fist lands a blow in your stomach, choking on the same air you breathed, tears burning before slipping down your cheeks. 

“Do you think this is bad?” and now he’s holding your face between his fingers, nails digging into your cheeks, and he grins, a shiver going down your spine,  “just wait.” And he disappears a moment, his shadowy figure rifling through a bag on a table. 

Your eyes darted around, looking for something that could help you, something to help you escape, but nothing was within reach. Your chest squeezed — what if you died here? What if you never saw your family again? What if you never saw your friends again? What if they never found your body? Fear claws up your throat, eyes burning. 

What if they found your body? 

What if Munch found your body? 

You had promised him you’d be careful, but you were careless. You didn’t watch Bradford close enough, you didn’t stick with Liv, you were stupid — so stupid. 

And you wondered if he’d rape you before he was done — if they would find your body like so many victims that came across your desk. You wondered if he’d kill you at all — or just let you live with the memories of his torture. 

And you didn’t know what was worse. 

But then something clatters in the distance, and his head is whipping around, there are footsteps, and he’s grabbing a knife, cutting your restraints free,  “Come here bitch,” he mutters, hurrying to cut the ropes, at your feet before moving to the ones at your wrists,  “they aren’t taking me before I get a chance to slit your throat.” 

Blood roaring in your ears, you know you have to do something — he’s almost done cutting the last rope at your wrist. You couldn’t wait for help. 

You rear your head back, before smashing it into his, hard. His groan gets caught in his throat, as you lunge for the knife, the handle within grasp of your fingers, and you’re trying to crawl away, a deep ache in your skull. You’re stumbling to your feet, but his fingers close around your ankle. 

“I should have fucking killed you from the start,” and you kick him with your free foot, hearing him scream and the satisfying crack of his nose breaking, gripping the knife in your hand and pushing yourself to your feet. 

And you rip the tape from your mouth, “Get the fuck away from me!” you point the knife at him, heart pounding against your ribcage, as he lays clutching his bloody nose. 

But he’s still getting to his feet, “You better hand over that fucking knife—” 

“You better not take another step before I blow your brains out,” and suddenly Fin and Munch are there, Fin stepping forward to arrest Bradford, as Munch is beside you. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” and he’s trying to ease the knife out of your fingers, but you won’t let go, “let go of the knife, it’s okay,” he’s murmuring in your ear, slipping the knife from your fingers, “you’re okay. I got you.” 

Your knees are buckling, and he’s holding you, your head buried in his chest, “I thought he was going to—” 

“I know,” he says softly, “I know, but you’re okay.” 

“Because of you,” And he’s helping you up, and police sirens in the distance, as he helps you out of the building, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he whispers, “I’m sorry,” 

“For what?” and his arm around you squeezes you gently. 

“For not saving you sooner,” And suddenly EMS and police are flooding the scene, Fin is shoving Bradford into a car. And you spot him, glaring, but Munch steps between his view, his arm around your shoulders, “don’t bother with that scum. He’s not worth it.” 

And he wasn’t — you knew he wasn’t, but you know that you wouldn’t be able to prosecute him now. But, you craned your neck to watch him be taken away, you wanted to see the bastard get put away at least. 

It’s over, you tell yourself as you rest your head against Munch’s shoulder. 

It was over. 

~~~

“I just want to go home,” you shake your head, but he pulls you along regardless, protesting all the same.

“Just let them look at you, please?” he asks, “if only for my sanity.” 

And you scoff softly, “I thought you lost that a long time ago,” 

“There’s that wit,” he replies, and you go with him, fingers intertwined with his. E.M.S. examines you, insisting on taking you to the hospital for a possible concussion. But you don’t want to — you just want to sleep, you want to take a shower, you want to forget this ever happened— 

“Please just let me go,” you’re pleading with him, tears slipping down your cheeks, “John, please let me go home.” and he’s wavering for a moment, before his hand is on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down. 

“I can’t, and you know that, counselor,” he never wanted to see you cry like this, he never wanted to see you as a victim — because you aren’t just another victim at his desk or in photos spread across his desk — you were you. 

But you were also a victim now. 

“Why not?” you lie against the pillow in defeat, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he’s leaning down to your level, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Because you’re hurt, and you need to be seen. I don’t trust doctors as much as the next conspiracy nut, but you still need to see one,” he tilts his head, “do you want me to come?” 

And you’re blinking back tears, before nodding, “I’m sorry, I’m—” 

“Don’t apologize,” he’s wiping your tears away, “don’t ever apologize for this.” 

~~~

You don’t remember much else — it’s a blur of testing, until finally they let you sleep. And you don’t know how long you sleep. But you don’t dream, and for that much, you’re thankful. You awake to the low hum of hospital machinery, and quiet voices in the room. And you blink, the fluorescents much too bright for you, and your eyes flutter shut again, before not before voices creep in. 

“—been asleep?” 

“It’s been a few hours,” Munch whispers, assumedly trying to keep from waking you, but that was out of the question already, “docs gave something for sleep.” 

“Have you said anything yet?” and it’s Fin asking. 

“When? In between the ambulance ride here and the C.A.T. scan and the fifty other tests they ran?” Munch replies drily, sighing, “it’s not the right time,” 

“You know there’s never going to be a right time, John,” and you’re grateful that you’re turned away from them, your brow furrowed, their voices growing louder, “you have to say something or is counselor a mind reader now?” 

“Well—” 

“Don’t spout another conspiracy theory or you’ll be the one in the hospital bed,” you could almost see Fin crossing his arms. 

“You know that psychiatrist also told me I could make a conspiracy theory from a five-year-old’s lemonade stand,” 

Fin raises an eyebrow, “Well now that I believe,” 

“What am I supposed to say?” Munch asks, “‘hi, I know you almost just died, but I think I’m in love with you?’” 

And your eyes snap open, the air sucked straight from your lungs — “It can be that simple,” 

He was in love with you? John Munch was in love with you. Your heart squeezed at the thought — you hadn’t a clue that he was. You knew he cared — but you didn’t know he… loved you.  

“Nothing is ever that simple,” and you turn around, the words leaving your lips without a thought. 

“It can be, John,” and both him and Fin’s gazes snap to you, a small smile on your lips, “if you let it be.” 

Munch is staring at you slack jawed, while Fin is grinning, elbowing him, “I’ll leave you two alone,” before he adds, “remember that there is an officer at the door—” 

“Fin—” and he’s gone, disappearing out of the door, and Munch is wiping a hand down his face, his cheeks flushed red, “so how much of that—” 

“All of it,” and he’s covering his hands with his face, “for someone who claims to be so evolved, you’re very cute when you’re embarrassed,” 

“I’m cute?” he repeats, and you hold out your hand to him, and he’s staring a moment — as if he can’t believe it — before taking your hand, “how cute?” 

You snort, “Just cute enough, don’t go getting an ego,” 

“You’re sure it’s not just the concussion? And the almost dying?” and you roll your eyes, tugging him closer, by his coat’s lapel, and he’s whispering your name. 

“How’s this for an answer?” and you kiss him — his lips barely brush yours a moment, but he’s already pulling you back in, parting and meeting until you hold him there a moment, fingers twisting in the hair resting on the small of his neck, “John—” you breath against his lips. 

“I don’t understand why…” he whispers, your foreheads brushing. 

“Why...?” 

“I don’t understand why me,” his fingers cup your cheek gently, as if you’d disappear between his fingers, “you could be with anyone — why would you choose this paranoid, old detective?” 

“Because it’s you,” you softly chuckle, and you draw your lips to his again, “and I wouldn’t want you any other way,” before you add, “except maybe sharing your feelings more so I don’t have to overhear any other conversations to know how you’re feeling.” 

“I could say the same to you, counselor,” 

“Excuse me, I said how I felt first,” you gape at him, in mock offense. 

“Only after hearing how I felt,” but you shrug, smiling as your noses brush. 

“Still, I was the first, so suck it,” you reply, and he laughs, a warm sound that makes your chest stir. 

“Oh,” his lips brush yours, a smile on his lips,  “I’m gonna suck something.” 

[zazzander]

Jason Grace and Octavian, pt 5 / final

Healing the Gods

Of course, there is another parallel between Jason and Octavian – the rank of Pontifex Maximus. While Reyna is criticising Octavian for taking on the role, Jason is being proclaimed it. Interestingly, once again Octavian looks to gain power and is shamed by the characters around him; once again, Jason is handed this power and it is celebrated as something noble.

First, Octavian

Ignoring the murder part of this plan, one of Octavian's goals in Blood of Olympus (and perhaps long before) was to heal the gods. To fix the break that causes them to be divided, to fight themselves. He wants to restore them to full power. But I've spoken about Octavian's intent at length before. So this post is mostly being to talk about Jason.

And then, Jason

Going all the way back to the Lost Hero, we have Jason’s comment:

“So you believe those gods still exist?”

“Yes,” Jason said immediately. “I mean, I don’t think we should worship them or sacrifice chickens to them or anything, but they’re still around because they’re a powerful part of civilisation. They move from country to country as the centre of power shifted – like they moved from Ancient Greece to Rome.” [Lost Hero 90]

Not example the words of someone who would later become a priest. But Jason changes during Blood of Olympus.

“I can change that,” he promised. “I will personally arrange a shrine for you on Temple Hill in New Rome. Your first ever Roman shrine! I’ll raise one at Camp Half-Blood as well, right on the shore of Long Island Sound. Imagine, being honoured–”

“And feared.”

“– and feared by both Greeks and Romans. You’ll be famous!”

He offers this in the heat of battle, as a means of turning Kymopoleia, the minor goddess, back to their side against the giants.

After the fight, Jason says,

“I will,” Jason said. “When we win this war, I’m going to make sure all the gods get recognised.” […] “Which is why I’m going to finish the job.” Jason didn’t know where these words were coming from, but the idea fight absolutely right. “I’ll make sure none of the gods are forgotten at either camp. Maybe they’ll get temple, or cabins, or at least shrines.”

As they part, Kym says,

“But, if you win, remember your promise, Pontifex.”

Jason took a moment to process her words. “I’m not a priest.”

“No?” Kym’s white eyes gleamed.

And Jason offers his own explanation to Percy,

“Roman used to have a Pontifex Maximus, who oversaw all the proper sacrifices and whatnot, to make sure none of the gods got made. Which I offered to do… I guess it does sound like a pontifex’s job.”

Jason is setting himself up as Octavian’s successor, even if he doesn't fully realise taht.

Octavian was the sole priest of the, seemingly for a long time. And Jason certainly hadn’t considered helping him in the past.

But as Octavian’s death approaches, Jason is prepping to take over.

Again, it’s interesting how their goals align; and so too does their path.

“I heard. The Senate plans to elect you Pontifex Maximus.”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t care about the title so much. I do care about making sure the gods are remembered.”

One thing this entire narrative has been insistent upon is that trying to gain power is wrong. But being handed it on a golden platter? Morally correct. Ambition is wrong, apparently.

But its such a luxury for Jason to be like "yeah I don't care" because anyone else would struggle to fulfil his promises without that title. Hell, even with that title, they might struggle. Octavian certainly did. The moment Reyna returned all bets were off. Everyone switched allegiance.

Jason Drops the Façade

The whole of Long Island Sound spread out to the horizon. They were so far up, and at such an angle that nobody below could possibly see them. The patrol harpies never flew this high. […] “But aren’t you going to get in trouble?”

“Who cares?” Jason asked.

Piper laughed quietly. “Who are you?”

He turned, his glasses place bronze in starlight. “Jason Grace. Please to meet you.”

As we see Jason recreate the memory of their first kiss. In a poetic way, Jason has become the person Hera knew he could be. For all the flack she gets, Hera really did know him best.

Ironically, Jason is now the person that could have been good friends with Octavian. Someone ready to break some rules. Someone who realises the nature of the gods and wants to fix things. Someone who wishes to make Rome a little more Greek.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

[lurkingforwarrios]

Thoughts and Feels- Leopardstar’s Honor

WARNING! Spoilers Ahead!

Right away....Holy shit those continuity errors. Seriously, why don’t they just hire a better editor. There are enough Warriors-Kids that are now in their late 20s that could probably do an outstandingly better job. But putting those aside.

All in all, it’s worth a read. I never really found myself bored with it, but I wasn’t glued to it like I had been for some early titles in The Broken Code or like I was to Blackfoot’s Reckoning (seriously. I think that might be the best warriors story that we’ve gotten in a long time. I need to make a full post about it soon)

Here’s what I liked:

- Leopardfur/star was characterized really well for most of of the novel. I think they start to lose her a bit right when the Tigerclan drama starts.

- I like how they painted Fireheart/star from the perspective of an outsider, and the very believable way she is convinced that HE is the social climber, not Tigerstar.

- Her strained but loving relationship with Mudfur. It’s a very real family dynamic, and adds a lot to both of them.

- Mistyfoot initially saying that she would stay with Thunderclan and telling Leopardstar off...even if they undid it within like one page

-Leopardstar’s interactions with Silverstream! Some of the best scenes

-Leopardstar having close, belivable friendships with Sunfish and Frogleap! Also her feelings for Frogleap I think were very well done.

-NOT making her in love with Tigerstar, and turning that into a throwaway line. Yes TY Erins.

- RIVERCLAN BEING MAD THAT GRAYSTRIPE BURIED SILVERSTREAM. It’s a small thing but I love tiny details like that.

Here’s what I didn’t like:

- The story really should have taken place from Leopardfur’s deputy ceremony onward to maybe Sasha’s arrival. Let’s be real, most of us were interested in the Tigerclan section, and somehow that section got the most rushed. We really didn’t need her kithood and apprenticeship, even if they had some good moments here and there. I think most readers wanted an in-depth expose of the Tigerclan alliance and buildup, collapse, and aftermath of it. 

- Sunnyfall did a great video on how they failed to actually pull off gray morality. And it’s true. Leopardstar very much came off as a victim and was almost immediately forgiven by Riverclan despite not doing much to earn the forgiveness. This probably would have been fixed by dedicating more of the book to the aftermath.

-Also, if she actually wanted to break her allegiance with Tigerstar, they could have fought or sought out help from another clan to drive the Shadowclan warriors out. It all just comes off as very odd and it would have been better if Leopardstar was presented as being in denial of her bad decision.

- Very VERY cop-outy about the Bonehill scene. Once again doing a bad job of making her morally gray in that moment and just kind being like “Oh man wasn’t this so sad for her!”

- Mistyfoot immediately being like “Wait yeah I’ll come back I forgive you”

- Leopardstar’s fear of water kinda just...going away. Phobias don’t work like that.

- No exploration of her relationship with Stonefur at all. Or at least not as much as we should have had.

- THAT GOD AWFUL EDITING. It was actually a bit of a disgrace towards the end. They literally edited Stormfur and Feathertail’s apprentice ceremonies into the wrong chapter. So they are apprenticed and then referred to as not being apprenticed yet maybe a few chapters later. Come on ya’ll.

- Still no explanation given for the weirdness behind Tigerclan being composed of two clans and yet hating half clan cats. Did they just always intend that cats wouldn’t be able to mate with cats of different clan ancestry despite them being a giant clan composed of several clans? It’s a huge logic leap that has just never been acknowledged canonically. 

[ibijau]

Futures Past pt14 / On AO3

three conversations as Nie Huaisang's time in Gusu comes to an end

Summer had finally come to an end, implacable heat replaced by a more pleasant warmth as the world took on new hues. It also meant that the final few exams of the year were fast approaching, though Nie Huaisang felt unconcerned. He’d been ordered to fail after all, not that he thought he could have succeeded even if he’d tried.

Comforted by that permission to not study, he was currently laying in the grass in the back hills of the Cloud Recesses, enjoying the afternoon sun. A history book, chosen for the promise of the many scandals it revealed about a past emperor’s reign, laid forgotten on his chest, Nie Huaisang having realised that the contents were far more serious than he felt like dealing with at the moment. At some other time he might have taken a nap, encouraged by the warmth, but he’d found it difficult to sleep since that visit of his future self a few days earlier.

Just as Nie Huaisang was about to pick up his book again, Su She finished his series of sword forms and came to lay on the grass as well. He was sweaty and looked tired, but appeared quite happy with himself. Su She had confessed that he’d made a real leap forward with his cultivation since teachers and other disciples stopped constantly putting him down, something for which Nie Huaisang felt as proud as if it had been his own progress.

They stayed silent for a while, just basking in the sun, enjoying that beautiful day, until Nie Huaisang found that his recent worries were too heavy on his chest and he had to share them.

“Su-xiong?”

Su She made a noise to signify he’d heard, but couldn’t be bothered to speak. He looked comfortable, and had closed his eyes as if he might succeed with the nap that eluded Nie Huaisang. It was almost a shame to ruin that.

“Do you think people can be so evil that nothing will redeem them?”

The silence changed around them. After a moment Su She sat up to get a look at Nie Huaisang. Finding him looking serious, Su She’s initial puzzlement quickly turned into mild irritation at being dragged into a discussion like that on such a pleasant afternoon.

“Gusu Lan’s principles state that…”

“Not you as a Lan disciple,” Nie Huaisang cut him with an impatient gesture. “You as a person. Do you think people can be so evil that there’s no going back for them, that nothing they could do or say would ever compensate for what they’ve done?”

Some of Su She’s irritation eased away, glad as always to be given a chance to voice an opinion that wasn’t that of his sect, and he laid down on the grass again.

“That’s a pretty intense question,” Su She said after a moment. “I guess there’s got to be a limit to what’s forgivable, yeah. I’m not the best to decide what that’d be though. I’ve been told I have an issue with holding grudges. But I think yeah, in general, there’s got to be a moment where a bad person becomes so bad there’s no going back and they just need to be eliminated.”

It wasn’t the answer Nie Huaisang had been hoping for, but it didn’t exactly surprise him either. He thought the same after all, if only because a person such as Wen Ruohan existed, proving to him that some people had to be beyond redemption.

“Then do you think…”

“What’s wrong with you today? Was this morning’s lecture about ethics again?”

“It was about the proper way to address people depending on family and allegiance links, and I fell asleep. No, this is something else. I’m just thinking about stuff lately.”

“Like good and evil? That must have been a pretty nasty nap you took.”

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “I just wonder what makes a person bad or good. Do you think some people can be bad from birth? Just, they’re born and they’re evil, and there’s no way they’re ever going to be anything but evil.”

It really bothered him, the things his future self had said during his last visit. About Lan Xichen, about Su She, but mostly the way he’d spoken of that Xue Yang boy, as if that child were no better than a cockroach needing to be squashed before it could proliferate.

“I think there’s definitely people who think that about some other people,” Su She said. “I’m pretty sure if you asked some of the other Lan disciples, they’d say I’m like that, just because I have a temper and I don’t hug their knees quite enough and I ask too many questions during some lessons. I guess it’s easier to hate someone if you tell yourself they’re the worst and they deserve it.”

“You’re not evil!” Nie Huaisang cried out, reaching out for his friend’s hand. “You’re not! I’ll fight anyone who says you are!”

Surprised by that outburst, Su She blinked a few times then snorted, pushing away Nie Huaisang’s hand.

“I appreciate it, but it didn’t go so well last time you tried to fight for my honour.”

“I’ll still fight all of them!”

Su She laughed, but appeared quite happy to hear that. Even now that other Lans gave him less of a hard time, he still liked being reminded that Nie Huaisang was on his side, just as he made sure Nie Huaisang knew the opposite was true as well.

That was why Nie Huaisang was telling him about his thoughts, rather than going to Lan Qiren or even Lan Xichen who surely might have more elaborate opinions on the matter of good and evil. Su She might not have read quite as much, but he was also less likely to judge Nie Huaisang for asking that kind of thing. Besides, since Su She’s opinions were often less polished, they felt more honest than if he’d quoted great thinkers of the past.

“But really, do you think a person can actually be evil from birth?” Nie Huaisang insisted when Su She had stopped laughing. “Like. Like a child, but they’re evil. Do you think that’s possible?”

Su She grabbed a strand of grass, and started twisting it between his fingers.

“Maybe. But like I said, people will mostly say that about someone they don’t like, or someone that doesn’t play by their rules, or else they’re not from a prestigious family and they’re just doing what they have to survive.”

He paused to pluck some more grass to play with, and started constructing a knot with it.

“I have a great-uncle I’ve never met,” Su She explained. “He owned a farm before he died where he worked hard, until there was a very bad drought and hard work wasn’t enough anymore. My grandfather often said that people called his brother evil because he did some bad things to feed his wife and children, and some of it really was pretty awful I guess. But nobody ever called evil the magistrate that wanted to force him to pay his taxes instead of buying food. My great-uncle was executed for his crimes and everyone said he’d always been evil and vicious even though they used to praise him as a good man before, but the magistrate got a promotion for making sure taxes were still paid and he got called virtuous. And that’s… I don’t know, I feel there’s something not right in that, you know?”

Nie Huaisang nodded, his eyes fixed on the grass knot that Su She wouldn't stop twisting between his fingers.

His older self had said that this Xue Yang he had to kill was an orphan, and a thief of some sort even though he was just ten.

It would be harder to be virtuous and noble for someone who didn’t have anyone to turn to. Nie Huaisang had his whole family behind him, all the education anyone could have, he knew about ethics and rules, and he still found it hard sometimes to make the right choices. He was too lazy and selfish to ever be really good, and apparently he wasn’t going to improve with age. So how could a child on his own, without books or wise elders, learn to be a good person, especially if like Nie Huaisang they’d been given a bad personality?

“Ok, I have another question.”

Su She sighed, and threw away his grass knot.

“Is it a weird one again?”

Nie Huaisang grimaced.

“Yeah, that one is pretty weird,” he admitted. “So, imagine there’s a very evil person. The most evil you can think of, but you don’t actually know them, it’s just that someone told you that person is very evil. And, for some reason, you’re given a chance to go back to when they were a little kid, and that person who told you this other guy is evil also tells you that you should take the chance and kill the evil person while he’s a kid to save other people. Would you do it, or would you try to… I don’t know, maybe try to make that kid grow up around better people so maybe he doesn’t turn out so bad?”

“Those questions are getting really specific.”

“Just answer. Do you think it’d be right to kill that kid?”

Su She fell silent for a moment.

“Do I trust the person who told me the kid will be evil later?”

Nie Huaisang considered that question.

“Yeah. I guess for the sake of the argument, you trust that person,” he said, even though he wasn’t quite sure how much he did trust his older self.

“And has the kid done anything evil yet?”

“No, but he’s done bad things. Maybe he stole some stuff. But also, he’s an orphan, you know?”

Su She sat up and gave his friend a sharp look.

“Really specific again. I guess… I guess it’d be wrong to kill him though. I mean, it’s like you said, why not try to put him in a better place instead? If he’s just a kid, and he hasn’t done anything bad yet… I don’t think it’s really fair to punish someone for something they haven’t even done yet.”

“Right? I think so too. People should get a chance before they’re punished. They’ve got to have a chance to learn!”

Su She nodded, but look more and more suspicious.

“So, is this all about someone in particular, or…”

“I’m just wondering stuff,” Nie Huaisang quickly said. The truth was too weird for anyone to ever believe, even if he tried to tell someone. Su She would just think he was crazy. Maybe he was, anyway. “I’ve got to think about something during boring lessons, right? I mean, don’t you start thinking about weird stuff too?”

“Sometimes I think about leaving the Cloud Recesses and creating my own sect when I’m bored,” Su She replied.

Nie Huaisang sat up, a grin on his face.

“Really? What would it be like?”

“Like Gusu Lan, but better,” Su She retorted with a smug smile. “And I’d get to sleep half a shichen later in the morning. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like, since you know how to play the guqin now. You can be my right hand man.”

Nie Huaisang’s grin only grew larger. It sounded like a delightful idea, and he eagerly dropped all his earlier thoughts about ethics and morality to instead make Su She talk about the sect of his dreams, until it was time for dinner.

-

That had to have been Lan Qiren’s most boring lecture to date. Quite the accomplishment, Nie Huaisang thought. Another accomplishment, and one far more impressive, was the fact that he’d managed to stay awake through all of it. It was really hard lately to pay attention, especially now that he didn’t need to. His grades during tests had been so consistently low that he couldn’t have passed even if he tried, so he really should have been allowed to skip those last few lessons and go have fun somewhere. He was going to hear all that stuff again in a year, wasn’t he?

If he hadn’t feared the Lans’ punishment methods, Nie Huaisang would have skipped all these stupid classes and ran off to Gusu for some fun.

If he hadn’t feared his brother’s wrath, he would also have stopped bothering with homework. But Lan Xichen had hinted to him, not unwisely, that Nie Mingjue might be a little less angry if he could be shown proof that his brother had really tried to learn. And considering the stunt Nie Huaisang was thinking of pulling with Xue Yang… 

So, Nie Huaisang had stayed awake in class, and he’d been handed back some previous homework with a grade so high he’d actually asked Lan Qiren if there hadn’t been a mistake. Lan Qiren had told him that if the grade didn’t please him, it was always possible to lower it, so Nie Huaisang had kept his mouth shut after that. 

The rest of the lesson had passed surprisingly fast after that, and soon enough Nie Huaisang was free again, with a whole afternoon ahead of him. He had new homework to deal with, sure, and it was something that would be graded again, but that didn’t feel urgent. Sadly, Su She had already warned that he wouldn’t be free to hang out that day, due to being allowed to go on a Night Hunt with some other Lan juniors, something he’d been very excited about. That meant Nie Huaisang would have to stay on his own, or go bother Lan Xichen. 

The second option felt surprisingly compelling, even though they’d already see each other in three days for his music lesson. Lan Xichen was sure to praise him for his good grade after all, and Nie Huaisang quite enjoyed being praised, as he’d discovered. If more people praised him, he might start feeling like doing something to deserve it.

Nie Huaisang had just decided he’d try to see if Lan Xichen had time for him when Jin Zixun grabbed him by the elbow and started pulling him away from everyone else.

"How come you had a good grade on that essay?" Jin Zixun asked with unwarranted suspicion.

Nie Huaisang, who had briefly wondered if he was going to get punched again and was getting ready to escape, relaxed and allowed the other boy to drag him away.

"I'm actually very smart, thanks." 

"You're only smart on homework and never on quizzes," Jin Zixun retorted. "Is your merchant friend helping you?" 

That earned him a light kick to the shin, which he didn’t appear to feel.

"Don’t call him that!” Nie Huaisang warned. “And, no, he's said he doesn't want to think about learning when we hang out."

"Then it's Lan gongzi who does your homework for you."

That hit a little too close. Stung in his pride, Nie Huaisang’s freed himself from Jin Zixun’s grip and stopped walking, arms crossed on his chest.

"He doesn't! He just corrects my drafts! And lately most of what's in my essays is all my own, actually! I only fail in quizzes because I panic and because I don't have enough time."

It was something he’d realised during his music lessons with Lan Xichen, actually. Nie Huaisang needed to do things at his own speed, or else he couldn’t do things at all. It wasn’t a problem with Lan Xichen who allowed him to take breaks and even have a snack if he struggled too much to focus, but Lan Qiren and the other teachers hadn’t taken it too well when he’d tried to eat candies during quizzes, or when he started doodling during an exam because it helped him focus. It also fell into deaf ears when he pleaded to be given a little more time when, by some random chance, he actually did know the answer to a question and had so much to say that the allotted time wasn’t enough.

By comparison, homework was easy. Especially when Lan Xichen allowed him to come into his room and work there while he dealt with his own work. The company of a studious person really helped. 

"Fine,” Jin Zixun said, grabbing his arm again. “Then you're going to help me with my essays. I’m just barely passing and if I don't get a good grade on the last set of homework, old man Lan is going to make me come back next year."

Jin Zixun started pulling again, but Nie Huaisang resisted this time.

"Why should I help you?" 

"Because your grades are so bad you're sure to be sent back next year, and then we'd be stuck together again." 

"I need to think. I don't care that much about being stuck with you. You're not the worst person I know." 

"I'm… not?" Jin Zixun asked, sounding so shocked that Nie Huaisang snorted.

"Not even close to it," Nie Huaisang assured him, thinking of his future self. With that point of comparison, a lot of people had become almost agreeable to him. 

"Oh. I'm not sure I have another argument in my favour," Jin Zixun admitted. "Usually that one is enough." 

Nie Huaisang snorted again. He could imagine that a lot of people would do whatever Jin Zixun asked of them, just so he’d stop talking to them for a little while. He was, after all, a complete prick, without skill or above average good looks to compensate. Still, Nie Huaisang felt a little sorry for him.

Besides, he was convinced that his future self would hate to see him waste time being nice to someone whom he didn’t deem useful, and that really sealed the deal.

"Okay I'll help,” he sighed, as if conceding to something that cost him a lot, when in truth he didn’t mind that much. “But only because I'm sorry for you."

"Hey!" 

"And I'm just helping,” Nie Huaisang warned. “You're still doing the actual work.”

“You’re just lazy,” Jin Zixun complained, pulling again on Nie Huaisang’s arm who, this time, willingly started to follow him toward the cabin where the Jin disciples stayed.

“I sure am,” Nie Huaisang agreed with a bright smile. “And I’m also thirsty, so let’s have tea while you work!”

Jin Zixun complained and grumbled and called him spoiled, but still did serve him what had to be the best tea he had on hand as they worked together.

-

A loud, discordant rang through the otherwise silent room until Nie Huaisang put down his hands on the guqin’s strings to silence it. His eyes prickled with tears yet unspilled. It was a simple enough melody, and he’d worked on it all week, wanting to surprise Lan Xichen with his progress by playing for him something they hadn't worked on together. Even the other Nie disciples, who fluctuated between indifference and annoyance at his new obsession with music, had praised him for playing it so well the night before.

But now he was there, in Lan Xichen’s room, trying to actually play that damn melody, and his fingers just refused to obey him.

“Give me another chance,” he begged, quickly pressing the back of his hand to one eye, just to make sure he hadn’t actually started crying. “I swear I can play it! I worked so hard on it, I’ll show you!”

“If you say you can play it, I believe you,” Lan Xichen replied. “You’ve had a rough day, it’s normal to be affected. Let’s put away the guqin for now and have some tea instead. It’ll do you good.”

When Lan Xichen got up and turned around to go boil water, Nie Huaisang felt a few tears of frustration fall on his cheek which he quickly wiped away. It was stupid, and it wasn’t fair, and he hated that things could impact him life that.

“It’s not like I thought I had any chance of passing anyway,” he hissed, hands clenching into fists. “I knew I was going to fail, it’s stupid that I’m upset about this!”

“Knowing something and actually experiencing it aren’t the same,” Lan Xichen replied. “It’s normal to be upset, Huaisang.”

Nie Huaisang shrugged, and wiped another tear. What did Lan Xichen know about failing anyway? He was always stupidly perfect, always did everything well, a favourite of every teacher, admired by all their peers, far more handsome than a boy of eighteen had any right to be, with a cultivation level that only Nie Mingjue, a freak of nature, could surpass. It was easy for Lan Xichen to say being upset was normal, when he’d probably never failed anything in his entire life.

By the time Lan Xichen returned to the table with a teapot and two glasses, Nie Huaisang was sulking, though thankfully he was too angry at himself to cry anymore. Lan Xichen took one look at him and went to fetch something else. He carefully put a little wooden box in front of Nie Huaisang, then started pouring tea for both of them.

“Take one,” Lan Xichen encouraged, nodding toward the box. “Take as many as you like, in fact. Just don’t tell anyone about them. I’m not supposed to have those.”

Intrigued, Nie Huaisang opened the box and discovered an array of cheap candies, which made Nie Huaisang grin against his will.

“What happened to the rules about avoiding unhealthy foods?”

“Wangji would have a fit,” Lan Xichen sighed, eyes glancing toward the door, as if just by mentioning his name, Lan Wangji might appear out of thin air to scold them. “But I know I can trust you to keep the secret.”

“No choice, you’ve made me an accomplice,” Nie Huaisang replied, grabbing one piece of candy. It was disgustingly sweet, almost making his jaw ache.

So he reached for another, his fingers briefly brushing against Lan Xichen who’d done the same. Nie Huaisang quickly removed his hand, startled at the sensation of warm skin.

“Lan gongzi, what if you adopted me as your new little brother?” Nie Huaisang suggested to try and pretend he hadn't had such a strong reaction just from an accidental touch. “I promise to be a very good didi. I will never get upset at you for wanting to have a little fun sometimes, and I’ll never denounce you to Lan Qiren either. And you will be my nice Lan-gege… ah ! Better yet, you'll be Xichen-ge! Always kind and patient, and you won’t mind at all that I’m bad at everything because I’m very sweet and funny.”

“A tempting offer,” Lan Xichen replied with an odd smile. “Wangji certainly never calls me ‘ge’ because he finds it too informal, whereas I think I quite like it, so I might adopt you just for that. But alas, Mingjue-xiong would be heartbroken if I stole his beloved brother from him, and so I must decline.”

Nie Huaisang took a sip of tea and sighed deeply.

“I don’t think he’ll mind at all. As it is, he might just disown me himself anyway.”

"Your brother will understand," Lan Xichen replied while taking another candy. "He'll be angry at first, but it won't last. If it worries you so much, I can write to him and tell him how hard you've been working. It's a shame homework doesn't count more toward passing, or I do think you'd be graduating."

Nie Huaisang shrugged. It was always like that: if he was good at something, it was always something which didn't matter. Even being skilled at music… what good was that to anyone, in the end? 

"What if he doesn't forgive me though?" 

"He will," Lan Xichen replied with confidence. "You are his precious little brother, I don't think he could ever stay mad at you very long." 

Nie Huaisang thought of his older self, so convinced that Nie Mingjue despised him, and sighed. 

"Maybe someday he'll get tired of forgiving me. Maybe someday I'll… maybe someday I'll do something that's too much," he muttered, thinking of his plan regarding Xue Yang. "I'll go too far, and then he'll hate me. And if he hates me, I'll…" 

"Your brother loves you," Lan Xichen said. "He loves you as much as you love him. I don't think there's anything in the world that could change that."

That sounded like a challenge. As it happened, Nie Huaisang had given that topic a lot of thought lately, and he'd reached a conclusion. 

"I can think of at least two things I could do that would make him hate me," he announced. 

"Is that so?" Lan Xichen asked with a smile, as if he really believed such a thing to be impossible. 

That gave Nie Huaisang some comfort. Lan Xichen was Nie Mingjue's best friend in the world, as close to him as he was to Su She. Lan Xichen had to know Nie Mingjue better than anyone else did, even if things were fated to start going bad between them someday. 

"I could betray him to Wen Ruohan," Nie Huaisang said. "He'd never forgive that." 

Lan Xichen took a sip of tea and nodded. 

"Not if you did it on purpose, no. But I also think it isn't in your nature to willingly side with his enemies, and he would forgive you if you were tricked into it." 

"Xichen-ge has a very high opinion of me, I feel undeserving." 

"I'm only stating the truth. Now, what's the other thing you think Mingjue-xiong wouldn't forgive?" 

"Marrying into Lanling Jin." 

Lan Xichen chortled. 

A real, honest to god, ugly laugh. He tried to hide it under a cough, but it was too late, Nie Huaisang had heard it and it delighted him. So even the ever perfect first jade of Gusu Lan could laugh like that! 

"Well? What do you think of that one?" 

"I think you're right this time," Lan Xichen agreed, still coughing. "It might be too much for him. In fact, I'll even say you'd deserve it." 

"What? Xichen-ge, how cruel!" Nie Huaisang lamented, one hand over his heart. "Maybe I’ve found my one true love, and…”

“So all Jin Zixun had to do was break your nose and now you want to marry him?”

“Oh that’s pushing the joke too far,” Nie Huaisang said with a grimace, quickly bringing one hand to his nose, following the bone with one finger to try and feel the break. “He’s not my type at all, and anyway we’re both brats, it wouldn’t work out at all. Still, in theory, if I were to marry into Lanling Jin…”

Lan Xichen only smiled more widely. 

“Would you, though?”

“Why not? There’s got to be a few that are decent. I mean, Zixun is occasionally almost tolerable, he can’t be the only one.”

“Oh, certainly there are some very fine people in that sect. I was talking more about the fact that you’d have to wear yellow for the rest of your life. Is that really something you could put up with?”

Thinking of the way those Jin disciples dressed, Nie Huaisang gasped and pressed both hands to his mouth to silence a cry of horror.

“That’s a good point! It’s not even a nice shade of yellow, either!" he cried out, trying to picture himself wearing it. It would be awful, he quickly decided. "I think it would wash out my complexion and make me look sickly. Maybe if it were a touch closer to brown, or even better a bit greenish, maybe I could consider it, but I really can’t marry into a sect that favours such a dreadful colour. I guess I’ll… why are you smiling?”

Lan Xichen, once more hiding his face behind his sleeve, turned away as if it might help dissimulate his grin. 

“Because you are quite funny," he chuckled. "I don’t think anyone else would consider it a deal-breaker for marriage that they don’t like another sect’s colour.”

“Easy for you to say, Xichen-ge, you’d look good in any hue! Some of us have to be careful!”

Lan Xichen lowered his hand, his face suddenly serious once more except for a certain glint in his eyes.

“Huaisang, you really sell yourself short sometimes. I think you’d look quite good in any colour,” he eagerly said, before breaking into a fit of giggles as he added: “Any colour except Jin yellow, that is.”

It wasn’t even that funny, Nie Huaisang thought as he started laughing too. But Lan Xichen’s unexpected hilarity was too contagious to be resisted, and he’d been feeling down all day, so he just went for it and enjoyed the moment. It took them ages to ever calm down.

When they did though, Lan Xichen suggested that perhaps Nie Huaisang might try again to play that song he’d practiced.

This time, he played it perfectly, better even than he’d ever done before.

[daredefys]

𝒏𝒐𝒆𝒖𝒍 𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏   for   foundwantinghq !

howdy’  ho  all  !  i’m  nae  (  she  /  her  ,  twenty  two  ,  from  the  acst  tmz !  )  &  i’ll  be  playing  this  evil  b*tch   i  mean  ,  BABE  ——   noeul  !  i  am  super  super  SUPER  excited  to  be  here  in  such  a  sexy  rp  with  such  sexy  ppl  that  i  can’t  wait  to  plot   /  write  with   😌   you  can  find  all  noeul’s  links  below  +  a  lil’  bio  under  the  cut !

bonus  links  :  stats  ,  wanted  connections  ,  pinterest .

. ･ﾟ  ┇ ⸢  KIM SEJEONG ,  CIS FEMALE  ,  SHE / HER  ,  MUSE   41 ⸥  ❛   ╾  don’t  look  now  but NOEUL  GWON is  heading  this  way  .  last  i  heard  ,  the  TWENTY  THREE  year  old  declared  their  allegiance  to  FACTION  3 during  the  last  town  meeting  .   it  definitely  makes  sense  ,  considering  the  fact  that  they’re  known  for  being ASSERTIVE  &  DETACHED  .  that  being  said  ,  they  can  also  be  quite  PIONEERING  &  MACHIAVELLIAN  .  i  don’t  know  about  you  but  every  time  i  see  them  i’m  reminded  of   EYES  THAT  GLIMMER  WITH  THE  PROMISE  OF  DEFIANCE   ,  THE  SOUND  OF  GLASS  SHATTERING  BENEATH  CROOKED  SHADOWS  ,  A  RAW  TRUTH  YOU  DONT  WANT  TO  HEAR  ,  CLENCHED  FISTS  BENEATH  YOUR  PILLOW  -  A  GIRL  POWERFUL  IS  STILL  A  GIRL  AFRAID  .  i’ve  also  heard  they’re  often  referred  to  as  the  THE  MISCREANT  ,  but  that  might  just  be  because  they’re  a  SCORPIO  .  something  tells  me  it  won’t  be  long  before  they  start  to  show  their  true  colors  .  wait  ,  are  they  listening  to  TROUBLE  by  VALERIE  BROUSSARD  ?  i  love  that  song  !  ❜ 

it  is  said  that  a  child  cannot  fix  an  already  broken  marriage   —  simply  a  temporary  solution  to  a  permanent  problem  that  neither  one  of  the  parents  want  to  discuss  entirely  ,  because  the  joy  of  a  newborn  only  lasts  so  long  before  they  fade  into  the  same  old  habits  that  destroyed  them  ;  the  same  old  traps  that  crushed  the  love  they  perhaps  once  shared  in  highschool  ,  when  the  two  of  them  were  naive  &  hopefully  that  what  they  shared  could  stand  the  tests  of  time  and  come  out  GLORIOUS    ——    noeul  gwon  was  supposed  to  fix  everything  ,  to  mend  what  was  broken  between  a  wife  who  now  dreaded  the  second  her  husband  came  home  &  a  husband  who  stayed  out  later  and  later  to  avoid  the  arguments  he  would  be  greeted  with  when  he  returned .  she  was  too  young  to  remember  it  all  ,  to  remember  how  the  two  DESPISED  each  other  -  to  remember  how  there  was  no  sentiment  shared  between  them  at  the  kitchen  table  ,  and  how  only  scowls  were  exchanged  over  breakfast .  (  the  tender  moments  shared  briefly  between  each  other  in  the  hospital  room  ,  bonding  over  the  beauty  they  created  from  something  so  ugly  was  fleeting .  )   nights  are  spent  in  separate  beds  ,  and  tense  words  are  exchanged  as  noeul  readied  herself  for  school  each  morning  -  closing  the  front  door  only  just  in  time  before  the  two  were  at  each  other’s  throats .  noeul  gwon  was  supposed  to  fix  everything  ,  but  not  even  the  love  they  shared  for  her  was  strong  enough  to  hold  their  crumbling  family  together .

she’s  nine  when  they  divorce  ,  and  custody  is  split  down  the  middle  ;  fifty  ,  fifty .  within  a  year  her  father  remarries  the  secretary  he  was  having  an  affair  with  ,  and  a  year  after  that  her  mother  is  engaged  to  her  highschool  fling  she  swears  she  should  have  married  to  begin  with   ——   noeul  tries  her  best  to  bring  the  two  back  together  ,  to  do  her  job  &  mend  what  was  broken  :  she  coincidentally  has  the  two  meet  up  at  the  mall  ,  she  gets  in  trouble  at  school  purposely  for  the  headmistress  to  call  both  of  them  in  ,  she  invites  them  both  to  her  birthday  parties  and  seats  them  beside  each  other .  (  she  puts  purple  dye  in  her  new  step - mom’s  shampoo   &  superglues  her  mom’s  new  boyfriend’s  shoes  to  the  floor   —  hoping  ,  perhaps  ,  if  she  can’t  drive  her  estranged  parents  together  ,  she  can  drive  away  their  new  beloveds .  )   but  to  no  avail .  her  parents  find  love  elsewhere  ,  and  it  slowly  becomes  apparent  how  ill - suited  the  two  of  them  once  were  for  each  other  when  they  discover  their  missing  pieces  in  other  people .   it’s  a  punch  in  the  gut  for  noeul  ,  a  different  pain  that  makes  her  grit  her  teeth  each  time  she  sees  them  both  happy  in  homes  she  doesn’t  recognise  anymore   —   because  if  they  were  never  meant  for  each  other  ,  how  can  she  ever  find  her  place  in  this  world  either ?  a  mistake  ,  a  problem  ,  a  regret .  where  does  she  belong ?

she  had  always  been  a  trouble  maker  -  a  child  with  a  thirst  for  deviousness  &  rebellion  ;  but  it’s  not  until  her  mother  announces  her  pregnancy  that  noeul  flourishes  in  her  new  role  as  neighbourhood  pest .  within  a  few  years  ,  her  mother  has  a  daughter  &  her  father  has  two  sons  ,  and  noeul  is  the  INBETWEEN  THING   —  stuck  between  two  worlds  that  are  moving  on  without  her .  she  grows  bitter  ,  and  cold  ,  and  not  even  her  parents  can  control  the  girl  who  once  adored  them . every  attempt  is  met  with  resistance  ,  as  her  envy  of  the  lives  they  now  have  with  their  new  families  grows .   she’s  the  final  piece  of  the  puzzle  that  fits  nowhere  ,  and  is  discarded  to  the  curb   —   or  that’s  how  it  feels  like .   she  ignores  her  dad’s  calls  ,  and  dodges  another  of  her  mom’s  lectures  when  she  comes  home  after  midnight   -   she  pays  no  care  to  her  new siblings  ,  only  spares  glances  when  nobody  is  looking  &  walks  away  when  they  try  desperately  to  get  her  attention .  THEY  HAVE  SOMETHING  SHE  WILL  NEVER  HAVE  :  something  whole .   she  grows  into  her  reputation  as  a  miscreant   —  she  fails  her  classes  ,  gets  high  behind  the  bleachers  ,  smashes  the  principal’s  car  windows  on  the  last  day  of  senior  year .  you  look  at  noeul  gwon  and  you  forever  wonder  what  she’s  thinking ,  how  she  will  act  ,  where  you  stand  with  her .  and  the  real  answer  is  :  you  never  will .

but  it  is  only  so  long  before  she  trips  ,  finds  herself  falling  in  the  shadow  of  her  own  cunning  ways  .  the  cub  camp  is  seen  only  as  a  gateway  to  brief  safety  ,  when  she  makes  enemies  with  the  wrong  people  in  town .  for  the  first  time  ,  she  slips  up  &  finds  herself  terrified  of  the  repercussions   ——   only  to  find  herself  in  deeper  shit .  she  remains  FACTIONLESS  for  a  long  while  ,  seeking  only  isolation  as  the  shock  of  what  is  happening  settles  &  she  gives  herself  time  to  think  —  think  ,  think  ,  think   as  those  around  her  form  a  romanticised  view  of  peace  and  society that  she  fails  to  agree  with . (  if  the  world  wishes  to  crash  and  burn  ,  the  only  real  option  is  to  sit  and  watch  the  flames  grow  higher .  )  noeul  gwon  is  a  survivor  ,  afterall  :  she  knows  how  to  play  those  around  her  to  her  own  advantage .  to  lie  ,  to  swindle  ,  to  take  what  she  needs  -  free  of  guilt .  the  formation  of  faction  three  is  the  opportunity  she  needs  when  the  times  become  dire  ,  when  she  decides  she  needs  others  to  ensure  her  own  survival .  things  won’t  be  so  glorious  forever  ,  and  it’s  only  a  matter  of  time  before it  all  burns  to  cinders  and  only  the  ashes  of  what  they  hoped  for  remains   ——   the  formation  of  a  new  society  is  not  on  her  agenda  ,  she  would  much  rather  sit  back  &  watch  it  all  burn  ,  but  for  now ?  she  hovers  in  the  shadows  ,  watching  for  the  first  signs  of  a  crack  in  the  exteriors  —  the  first  signs  to  do  what  she  does  best   :  take  ,  destroy  ,  run .  

[liukangmybeloved]

everyone else is fighting for second {Mortal Kombat (2021)}

SPOILERS FOR MORTAL KOMBAT (2021)

Summary: Canon Divergent AU. Crack & Fluff. The team develops into something of a found family, which happens to include Cole's actual family. They take a day off from fighting to go to the fair, where the biggest question is 'who is Cole's daughter's favourite in the team?' Besides her dad, of course. Kano is very competitive about this question.

A/N: 1968 words. I will take a meat-tenderizer and FIX the canon and make it SOFT. i love cole young and mk 2021, if you don't like that, you've been warned. everybody lives/nobody dies AU & kano isn't a traitor. also imagine there's just like.... more time before the tournament. enough to become a found family. like i said, fluff & crack. warnings for swearing.

If Cole had it his way, Emily and Kano would have never met. He would be perfectly happy letting everyone else on the team meet her, but he's yet to hear a single sentence leave Kano's mouth that didn't include some colourful variation of 'fuck', 'shit', 'wanker', or 'cunt'. So unsurprisingly, he wasn't exactly eager to let his teenager daughter near the man who Sonya had literally called 'scum of the Earth', but alas.

"I'll be on my best behaviour, pinky-swear!" Kano's grin was all teeth as he'd held his pinky finger up to Cole's glowering face, wiggling it a little when Cole made no move to finish the pinky-swear.

"If you say - cunt -" and the word sounds so uncomfortable coming from Cole, he damn well looks uncomfortable just saying it, "within a hundred feet of her, I'll get Kung Lao to cut you in half." And he gesutres over to where Kung Lao and the rest of their ragtag bunch of misfits; the man in question had forgone his usual weapon for a more modern, soft-brimmed sunhat, but his jaunty wave to Kano at the sound of his name still managed to be menacing. The Australian shuddered in horror at the mere thought; at least he took the threat seriously.

"You don't have to be jealous, man," the threat seemed to only have dampened Kano's jovial attitude momentarily, as he's got a spring in his step as he follows Cole to the rest of the gathered champions, "Uncle Kano's gonna set a fuckin' - flippin' -" he corrects himself as Cole shoots him a warning look, "great example." Sonya barks a loud, derisive laugh as Cole sees fit to remind him that he's not Uncle Kano.

"Emily's a good kid," Liu Kang assures, kind and sincere.

"Yeah, she never even believes me when I tell her Kano's a dirty, little rat," Kung Lao smirks in the face of Kano's sudden outrage, and Cole is pretty sure that, despite it being Emily and Alison's idea, to give the team a day of levity and to bond, this might be the worst plan he's ever agreed to.

"This is a day of bonding, not of infighting," Raiden's voice joins them, followed by the God himself only moments later, which is enough to unite all the champions in confusion at his choice of wardrobe for the day. While still sporting a majority of his usual attire, somehow he'd managed to procure a t-shirt with a meme of all things on it, a personalised meme!

"I designed it myself, I think it turned out pretty okay; whaddya think?" Kano sounded far too proud of himself, looking at the cartoon drawing of what could only be Raiden himself pointing awkwardly at Thor as depicted in Marvel Comics, who was pointing back.

"We are both Gods of Thunder," Raiden explained, pointing to his own shirt; Sonya had gone wide-eyed, unsure of how to react, while Jaxx was doing his utmost not to burst out laughing.

"I... didn't know you knew what a meme was," Cole admits, though honestly, once the shock had worn off of, it was rather charming.

"I didn't know you knew what a meme was," Kano fired back, equally confused.

"I have a thirteen-year-old, of course I know what a meme is -" but then it seems to hit him just as it hits Sonya and Jax, and the three of them turn to the pair of confused, cave-dwelling, internet-free champions. None of them knew where to begin trying to explain the whole situation, but thankfully, Raiden chose that moment to open a lightning portal, and they all headed through quickly.

----

The night that Cole and his family had gone home after everything had gone down, the fighting, Sub-Zero, and the man he's pretty sure is the ghost of his ancestor, Emily had looked him dead in the eye and called him a super hero.

And then told him that his friends were really cool.

This was a sentiment that his new friends seemed to share about his family.

Cole quickly comes to realise that family isn't something a lot of the rest of the team have nowadays; they have each other, but for a lot of them, that's mostly it. He sits on an invite to dinner that he'd already ran past Alison several days ago, before inviting Liu Kang and Kung Lao over, if nothing else, to repay the hospitality they'd shown him so early on.

Alison's rule was that there was to be peace on their property; no training, no fighting, but the team was welcome as long as they didn't bring trouble to the door.

So then it was Sonya and Jaxx, who brought dessert when they came over.

Emily once asked what Thunder Gods ate. Did they eat? Cole wasn't sure. He extends an invite to Raiden anyways, but it's politely declined. The next time, however, he took up Cole's invite, mostly for the company, and to thank Alison and Emily for their patience; having Cole away so often wasn't easy, he'd be the first to acknowledge that. Alison appreciated the sentiment, as did Emily, though she was also just bursting with questions for the God, and he did his best to answer what he could.

Then finally - finally - after so long spent with the team, of most of them coming to find comfort and serenity in his home on the occasions that they need it, Kano is invited to Sunday lunch too.

----

"I know us champions and our super powers are pretty cool," Kano says to Emily, the moment they step through the lightning portal and emerge into the sunshine and the noise of the fair, "but I'm your favourite, right? Besides your old man, of course," and he rolls his eyes a little at that, as does Cole, for very different reasons, while Alison shoots Cole a questioning look. Thankfully she still does not trust Kano as far as she could throw him.

For her part, Emily answers incredibly diplomatically, sounding much older than her thirteen years, and quite a bit like her mother;

"Kano, you're a grown man, my approval shouldn't matter to you," she sounds sincere, which is completely undercut by Kung Lao sliding into step beside Kano.

"Which means you're not her favourite," he teases, and Kano practically growls back, embarrassed, while Emily calls out to Raiden that she likes his shirt. He practically beams.

"Not a lot of people will really get it, though," she points out, and Raiden muses on that for a moment.

"But I get it, and it's mine."

"Fair point," Emily nods at that, as their strange group steps up to buy tickets.

---

Emily spends more of the fair of people's shoulders than she does actually walking, which delights her endlessly. Mostly she's up on Jax's shoulders, and charges her cotton candy for the ride, ripping a small chunk from the one Cole had bought for her.

"It's weird seeing you all look so normal," she says to Sonya, the two of them in line for the Dodge 'Em Cars alongside Liu Kang and Kung Lao. Sonya grins, knows exactly what she means, gaze turning to the two members of the Shaolin Order of Light, not that anyone would know simply from looking at them now. Where Liu Kang had found a pair of trendy, ripped jeans was beyond Sonya's imagination.

"You look cool, though," Emily amended quickly, "I didn't realise you all would come to the fair, but I'm glad you did," she's smiling brightly as they get closer to the front of the line.

"Who did you expect to come along today?" Liu asks, eyes wide and curious. It wasn't that he was as competitive as Kung Lao or Kano, but he still found the child's interpretation of their group to be interesting. She knows, in some capacity, what they're capable off; she'd watched her father slice, dice, and kill Goro after all. The fact that she could think so highly of them speaks a lot to her capacity for kindness, or perhaps her childish naivety, but Liu preferred to think it was the former.

Emily, however, goes quiet, seems to be a little embarrassed. She mutters something, avoiding eye contact with any of them, and Liu goes to ask her to repeat herself, but she interrupts him while doing so;

"I wanted Dad to have a day off," she admitted, before adding, "and... and Lord Raiden; I don't think he's had a day off this millennium."

"It's good of you to look out for them," Sonya tells her fondly, "our team can be pretty single-minded, but we needed this day off, I think." And she gives Emily a pet on the shoulder, and lets her steer the tandem Car when they finally get a turn.

----

"It's me, right? I'm your favourite," Jax asks Emily over lunch, not because he genuinely believes it, but because it riles up Kano, and to a lesser extent, the competitive Liu Kang.

"Jax is one bad day away from pledging his allegiance to Skynet, he can't be your favourite -" Kano grumbles.

"Dad's my favourite," Emily reminds them sternly, and Cole has to hide his proud little smile, before she adds, "and mom's my favourite too, the rest of you, well of course you're all badass as hell -"

"Is it Liu? 'Cos he's pretty and you're, yanno, a teenage girl," Kano scowls at the warrior who'd been attempting to just quietly enjoy his basket of fries. Both Cole and Alison are wearing similarly murderous expressions, and Kano raised his hands in mock surrender, dropping his gaze.

"Actually," Emily said pointedly, despite the embarrassed flush on her cheeks, though she was mirroring her parents intensity, "my favourite is Raiden because he's literally a God that shoots lightning out of his hands, and you're now my least favourite because you're a rat bastard."

"I taught her that," Kung Lao was grinning from ear to ear, and when he and Emily look to each other, they share a definitive nod.

"How come he's allowed to teach her words like bastard?!" Kano demanded to know.

"Because you're a bastard," Sonya interjects.

Kano is thankfully quiet for the remainder of lunch, sulking at his end of the table as chatter returns to normal, returns to talk of how everyone else had been enjoying the day.

----

At the end of the day, Kano shoves a large, stuffed kangaroo at Emily that he'd won at the booth where you had to knock over bottles.

"Didn't even use me eye or anything; lost an hour of my life and fifty fuckin' dollars," he was grumbling, while Emily was examining the prize.

"You won this?" She seemed endeared by it, endeared by the thought that he'd put the time into winning it for her.

"'course I won it, can I stop being your least favourite now?" He asked, and Emily tucked the kangaroo beneath her arm, giving him an appraising look.

"You can't buy my loyalty -"

"Wouldn't want it if it could be bought, I know that shit from experience," Kano interjected, crossing his arms defensively, ignoring where Cole was glowering at him every time he swore.

"But you put time in, and effort, so you're back to third with everyone else."

"As long as none of those bastards is beating me, I'm okay with that."

As they headed to the exit, to where Raiden had created a lightning portal for them all to go home through, Emily reached out and punched Kano lightly in the shoulder.

"Thanks, Kano, it's pretty sweet that you care so much."

"Don't tell the others," he grumbled back.

"We've been with you all day," Jax calls out, "we already know."

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

The Iowa Caucus Happened

A job offer slides into Rafael’s DMs as he waits to find out if it’ll be a new start or prison on February 8.

Accidental Feminist Icon

Delete the Twitter app, Mr. Barba

“Mister Barba?”

Rafael didn’t like hearing his name from the young woman behind him, especially not given what he’d done. He’d texted Carmen on the first day of the trial, and she’d agreed to look into the offers from attorneys he knew, and some he didn’t, while he sat beside Dworkin and emotionally prepared himself to testify. The ones he’d looked at the night before came from people he didn’t like or were last resorts. He’d moved from his visceral response to finding law to back his actions. Applying logic could let him detangle himself from his conflicted emotions. Catholic guilt wrestled his humanity. That said, he also found himself desperate to introduce Ollie to music as Carmen worked from his apartment that first afternoon, not caring for once as the toddler drooled or sneezed or spilled all over him.

“Yes?” he asked, taking his coffee from the cart. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“We haven’t. I follow you on Twitter.”

“Ah,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss-”

“Rachel Sullivan. I have, like, a reading Twitter.”

“I’ve seen that! Read with Rachel? Your icon is a copy of Howl?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, chuckling. “I just- listen, I know it’s bad what’s going on and a lot of people are really hurt and going after you. Do I get it? No. But, I think you didn’t get a good choice, and you did what’s right for you. When it seems impossible, it’s not my place to judge something I can’t fathom. And a lot of people feel the same. A bunch of us have a group chat and we hope everything goes well and you get to start again.”

It was a stark contrast to his interaction with mami or emails from church ladies. There was an acknowledgement of disagreement, but he needed more people to respect that they weren’t there like she did. He also remembered watching his father die, and while he didn’t like the man, he regretted not ending that pain. It only drew out hurt for everyone. 

“Thank you, Rachel. That really means the world to me.”

“Good luck today,” she said, giving him a wave when she took her coffee and left. By the end of the day, Rafael hated Peter Stone for being a damn good prosecutor, and he wondered if there were any cases he’d tried, especially the ones before SVU that he was wrong on. He made his way into a new bar, definitely not his usual during all of this, and he sat and drafted his resignation. It took longer than he cared to admit, and he restarted and reread it time and time again. By the time he was drunk, he’d written something he could proofread the next morning and ignored calls from Olivia, Carmen, and mami. 

He decided it was time to do what he had been dreading, logging into Twitter. Since Carmen had cleaned it up, more people had found him, and he was able to easily ignore anything hateful by skimming for murder or murderer in the body of the tweet. He skipped those, and Rafael was surprised to see some apathy, sympathy, or respect for his reasoning. Lazily, he scrolled his direct messages. A select few of the people who knew him contacted him with revulsion, but his filtered messages were filled with vitriol. He found Rachel’s account again, following her back and deciding he could break his unspoken rule of only following people he knew or the occasional blog/podcast/museum/celebrity. If anyone contacted him with kindness, he was now more open to the reciprocity of Twitter; no one would be asking him to prosecute their case soon.  

He saw a message from Tripp Greene. In Harvard, they’d had an unspoken alliance as the two scholarship kids in their cohort, a silent allegiance that continued into law school. There were very few people Rafael respected personally from Harvard, but Tripp had remained kind, even if he worked in something as ruthless as politics. They’d been reunited by Rafael’s uptick in Twitter popularity. He was more proud than he should be by the potential presidential candidates that had followed him. Rafael should have known Tripp would reach out; he was ever the silent cheerleader and had watched a sibling die on life support when he was at Harvard. They’d discussed the morality of pulling plugs and the selfish desire to keep people alive, though most of it had been Tripp talking and Rafael listening.

While moving to Iowa seemed extreme, he was acutely aware that he would end up haunting the DA’s office and Manhattan SVU like some ghost of ADAs past instead of moving forward. His mother had a boyfriend and looming retirement that seemed likely to take the pair to Miami, where she could play grandma to his grandchildren. There was nothing left for him here but Carmen, and while a great friend, she was not enough to erase the last twenty-one years of his life. When Carmen called for the fifth time that night, he ignored it, but it was quickly followed by Answer the phone or I tell Olivia I haven’t heard from you. With a groan, he answered when Carmen called again sixty seconds later.

“I’m fine. I don’t want to delve back into a play by play of my day.”

“That’s why you’re drunk at seven o’clock,” she said, her tone thick with sarcasm as she pretended that solved everything.

“It’s only been two hours?”

“You’re not at Forlini’s.”

“I’m not hanging out with Stone.”

“Send me your location. I just picked Ollie up from mom’s.”

“Take your son home, Carmen. I’ll be fine.”

“But we could talk about how much I also hate Stone. I’ll even stop and let you grab take out from that Cuban place you like.”

“Deal,” he acquiesced, motioning he wanted to close his tab. “Call me when you’re close.”

“Deal. ETA is about fifteen minutes.”

He polished off his scotch, signing the check and tipping well before taking his briefcase and leaning against the wall as he waited for Carmen’s SUV. She waved at him out the window, and he hurried into her passenger seat. Though he always knew that she was a great secretary and assistant, Carmen was proving to be the friend he needed right now. Olivia, in the few phone calls they had, was unwilling to discuss anything but the case. She was in cop mode, and she talked to him like she could swoop in and fix what he had done. While she thought he didn’t know, she’d talked to McCoy, talked to Stone, talked to anyone who would listen. But what she didn’t understand is that he’d accepted going to prison was a possibility, but it was one he felt was worth it.

“Barba!” he heard from the backseat, smiling softly to see Ollie more awake than he’d expected. He’d seen the boy periodically, mostly during evening handoffs when Carmen’s mother would drop him off so Carmen could take him home. There were a lot of single mothers in his life, and all were exceptional. The last few days, Carmen and Ollie both had spent a lot of time with him. He kept introducing Ollie to music and movies and foods like he could make up for everything Drew wouldn’t experience by making sure Ollie did.

“Oliver!” he smiled, twisting around to smile at him. The boy kicked his leg, and the blue stripe on the rubber of his sneakers lit up. “I like your shoes.”’

“Thanks,” he giggled, kicking again. 

“You’re good with him,” Carmen smiled, the navigation now leading her to get his take out. 

“He’s a good kid. Noah made me better with kids. Liv said I held him like a sack of flour at first.”

“You’ll be ready by the time you have your own.”

“I work too much.”

“That can change.”

“I don’t deserve to have a child,” he shrugged, and he could see Carmen purse her lips. “I don’t. I wouldn’t be good at it anyway. Wouldn’t be fair. Besides, I might end up like dad. No kid deserves that shit.”

“Bad word!” Ollie scolded, tablet in hand as he watched a movie.

“Sorry, Ollie. Stuff.”

“You’ve never told me what he did.”

“He wanted heterosexual, toxic machismo and got a swarmy, emotional bisexual.”

“You’re not that emotional.”

“He took care of that,” he said darkly. “I used to cry when he went after mami. That turned his attention to me.”

Carmen knew there was nothing she could say, so instead she silently took his hand, squeezing softly. He was taken aback at first, but he kept her hand loosely in his as his head lulled against the headrest. It was strangely grounding, the physical affection. He’d felt like he was swimming the last few days as memories of his father, his father’s death, his childhood, and each case he tried bubbled up. That wasn’t including the vision of baby drew and Maggie in the hospital room that lingered everywhere. 

The conflicting guilt and conviction he’d done the right thing also broke a damn and the feelings he’d suppressed- loneliness, guilt, abandonment, distrust- were all bubbling to the surface. He’d spent so much of his life trying not to process them so he could focus on a conviction rate and moving forward that he didn’t have the tools everyone else did sometimes. Right now, Carmen felt like an anchor, and he was grateful for her. 

He got out of the car when Carmen parked, ordering enough food for three adults, one take out container containing whatever he thought a toddler could handle. Soon enough, they were settled in his living room and eating, though Ollie had minimal interest in the pork, beans, and rice in front of him. The thought crossed his mind that when he took one of the out of state jobs, he wouldn’t have Carmen there like this. He was sure this friendship would be short lived; when he didn’t need her anymore, she’d leave him. That’s what usually happened, wasn’t it? She just felt bad for him.

“I’m moving to Iowa,” he blurted out before he was able to spiral into the self loathing he’d recently discovered.

“That’s far,” she said, and he thought he could detect sadness in her voice.

“There’s FaceTime.”

“Not quite the same, but I’ll take it.”

“Tripp understands,” he said, sobering up as the food hit his stomach. “He lost a sister. Watched someone dying like with my dad except she’d been born that way. It was years, Carmen.”

“That’s a lot. I’m going to miss you, Rafael. Ollie will too.”

“Come visit. If the tickets are bad, I’ll pay. Or cover renting a car.”

“You’re drunk,” she chuckled. 

“Sorry. Best friend. It’s the rules.”

“We’ll come. But I can afford tickets.” 

“Promise if it’ll make things tight, you’ll let me. You’re raising a kid. No kids means I can afford to get my friend the occasional plane ticket.”

“Deal.”

“Next week, will it be Des Moines or prison? Who knows! I’ll probably grow a beard either way. Think they’d recognize me in prison if I grow a beard?” 

“I’ve never seen you with a beard. Stop shaving and we’ll find out.”

She could see Rafael getting tired, head leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes. She preferred when he joked about all of this. They were stuck waiting, and this time the next night they’d probably know. Ollie climbed between them on the couch, and she realized her boss wasn’t the only one almost asleep. 

“You two can stay,” Rafael yawned, hand smoothing Ollie’s curls back. 

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. It’ll be nice not being alone in the morning. And you can stay here to work. We didn’t talk about it, but I know you hate Stone. He’s a good attorney. Doing his job.”

“His job is wrong.”

“That isn’t his fault. If another ADA had done what I did? I’d be prosecuting them.”

“Go get ready for bed,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. As she scooped Ollie up, she kissed the top of Rafael’s head. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Carmen?” She turned in the doorframe. “Thank you. For all of this.”

“I’m glad to, Raf. Promise you’ll actually sleep.”

“I promise.”

“Night, Barba,” Ollie yawned, waving over his mom’s shoulder as they entered his guest room. Maybe Iowa was going to be too far if he didn’t go to prison. He was getting quite fond of having Carmen around quite quickly. He wasn’t going to be her superior anymore, so this friendship could be something he maintained. 

Olivia would be a given; even if they were primarily united around work, she was also one of his closest friends and maybe not working together would make him relax. Hell, maybe the end of his life in the city would do it. Rafael couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t felt he was chasing an upward trajectory in New York City. Even at Harvard, the plan had been to return. Maybe coming into Des Moines established would let him feel comfortable just existing. 

He liked cooking and reading in the park and going out dancing on occasion. He rarely had time for two options, and the latter made his cheeks red with embarrassment at the prospect of a colleague seeing him during the outing. In Iowa, maybe he could go dancing and take up a new hobby and wear jeans without feeling like something was out of his control. 

He woke up before Carmen, excited to be able to cook for her. He appreciated the fact she was happy to help him, but she had paused her own life for the last few days. Their friendship was relegated to offices and dinners by the office. He’d come to her baby shower and birthday parties and even a holiday party, but that was it and that had other colleagues present. Except maybe the baby shower, but he was determined to buy up whatever was left on her registry when the day came, using mami, abuelita, and the older women at church as pseudonyms to pretend he’d just let family know. 

“You can cook?”

“I just never had time,” he shrugged, tray coming out of the oven.

“You made pastries?” 

“Pastelitos de guayaba.” Carmen didn’t miss how proud he looked as he admired them. They were something he’d always made with family. “They aren’t hard, but abuelita used to make them for me all the time. Puff pastry, sweetened cream cheese and guava paste. Cafe con leche on the way.”

“You couldn’t sleep?” He shook his head, pouring the espresso and adding the milk before placing mugs at the breakfast counter. His mouth was set in a line now, the corners sucked in as he focused on the countertop. Her hand rested on his, giving a squeeze and he rewarded her with a soft smile. “We’ll be helping you pack for Iowa in no time.”

“I hope,” he nodded, biting into a pastry. Ollie came out, eyeing the countertop. “Want one, Oliver?”

“What are they?”

“Delicious,” Carmen groaned, having torn into her own. That was enough for Ollie, who accepted a pastry from Rafael with a soft Thank you before biting into it carefully.

“Wow! It is good!”

“I’m glad you like it.”

It felt a somber affair, despite the pastries, when Carmen saw him off to court. She chose to wait in his apartment, ringer on high and news coverage on. Ollie was easily entertained by the toys she had in the car, and the phones were forwarded to be answerable on her cell phone. By the end of the day, she’d put dinner in his slow cooker and cleaned most everything at least once. And then her phone rang with his ringer. She’d picked one of the other presets for him long ago, and she watched Ollie with his blocks as she answered.

“Rafael?”

“Not guilty,” he exhaled, still unable to believe it as he surveyed his office to begin packing. Her desk was empty, and he didn’t mind today because if she had been here, McCoy would’ve had her helping Stone. Carmen was his assistant, his friend, and it was bad enough to know Stone would probably take his place at work.

“Thank God,” she whispered. “Did you turn the letter in?”

“I put it on Jack’s desk. I’m hoping to be gone buy his return. I think three heavy boxes will cover it. Plus anything I hung, but other than diplomas most of it came with the place.”

“I put dinner on. Ollie and I ran to the store and picked up short ribs and potatoes and carrots. I needed something to do.”

“Nervous you’d be visiting me in prison?”

“You know damn well juries can be swayed. You’ve done it.”

“And I’m safe. I’ll be there in a couple of hours, okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’m really glad you get to go to Iowa.”