#iii. verses : the walking dead au.

[thiswasinevitable-rwrb]

Sleepy Hollow au where Alex is a brujo but doesn't quite know it (or admit to himself) and his family moves to New England for his parents' work. He's not thrilled since he's going from a very mixed race society (Mexico still owns Texas) to a very conservative one.

At least, he thinks it's conservative, but then he thinks they're bat shit crazy due to their superstitions.

Autumn descends, and t night, wolves sing loudly in the woods. Then it's not just the wolves, but the dogs in the village. Alex hears a horseman riding down the streets and over the nearby bridge. He's used to a noisy neighborhood, but this is something else. The whole town swears they don't hear anything, but they outright threaten him to stay inside at night. Shudder the windows and blow out any flames.

It's Alex, so he doesn't. The horseman comes around like clockwork, probably a delivery person of some kind, bringing the papers from New York or Philadelphia, or doing the late night work of some other business. Goodness knows the silversmith stays up at all hours, so he's probably the one paying the obnoxious rider...

Alex sees the dog first. A smallish hound that sees him right back. It bays up at the moon, and through the shadows, a large horse's silhouette joins the dog's. Alex knows a male rider when he sees one, but the headless horseman legend might not be a legend after all.

The rider and dog run off, but Alex finds them night after night. He even manages to get way too close and learns that the dog is dead - cloudy blue eyes, half its jaw missing, and somehow still walking and running with a compound fracture sticking out of its legs.

It's when the horseman lifts the dog to carry it that Alex sees the glint of a ring on his pinkie.

Another night, push comes to shove, and Alex wrestles that ring off the zombie's hand and flees. All he has to go on is a gold signet ring, the curvaceous H stamped on it, and the almost worn away engraving inside:

act ii, sc iii XXXVI - XLIX

He has no idea what it means. He's assume it's a Bible verse except his sister has been making trips to the nearby cities to see the plays. She collects the scripts and tells him it's a citation from a play. But which one?

Alex runs out of time trying to figure it out, because the next night, an incessant knocking rattles the house door in its frame before being knocked down entirely.

To both Alex's and June's surprise, the horseman holds out his hand. Alex sets the ring on his dead palm, and he...leaves. For having no brain, the body is oddly sentient.

"Did you see his clothes?" June asks.

"What? No, I'm busy looking for his eyes."

"It's a stage costume. He's wearing a stage costume. It's too colorful."

Long story short, June and Alex search through records to find an actor who died with an H last name. Instead they find Arthur, an actor with a son named Henry. They died in the same week.

"Which one is it?"

"Henry. It must be Henry," June insisted.

"A father would wear his son's ring," Alex reasoned. "He's looking for something every night."

Either way, Alex must find out how they died, and why one of them is riding. The real question, is who is the horseman searching for every night? The search is getting more and more invasive. The townspeople aren't able to turn a blind eye anymore, and things are getting violent.

And yet, the horseman never harms Alex.

[bloodsalted]

the walking dead (verses). more to come!

i. the walking dead canon -- there's no humanity when the dead come back to feed you gotta fight em. (chapter ix). season one dean. season one twd. when the dead came back, dean was in the florida panhandle hunting a monster in the swamp. sam was at stanford and john was off on his own chasing demons. he had no idea that all hell broke loose for two days into it because he was in the woods with no signal. when he got back to his car along the service route and, finally, reached i-10? that's when he first caught a glimpse of what was going on. more details in verse once i write it. but he did wind up in georgia and, with luck, ran into shane's group before rick woke up. he's been with them since making his way towards the only place he knows where his brother is and holding onto the smallest shred of hope that he might find him again. (john to be encountered before sam. maybe virginia??)

ii. the walking dead au -- tag pending. season two dean. season two twd. the boys just reunited when the dead rose and were on the case in the florida panhandle when it happened. they found rick's group together. but when the prison fell, were separated with each of them fearing the worst. dean wound up on his own with _____ (twd canon that might want to jump in, any will do!) while sam ended up with _____ (wherever the plot goes dependent on partner) and the two won't reunite until the cabin. or, even, possibly after. alexandria or sanctuary timeline? could be interesting.

iii. the walking dead au2 // savior dean -- tag pending. same as season two but dean ends up being found by the sancutary. while he is a savior, he hates negan's brutality and is aligned with dwight. they may be laying low enough to work towards negan's end. he plays the part well. doesn't allow the brutality of the others to infiltrate his group when he's out on runs. and brings back what is asked because people merely fear the saviors and he uses that reputation as a weapon instead of cold-blooded murder. til rick's group shows up and then it might be time to bring negan down once and for all with a whole group of people who deserve justice for what's been done to them. sidenote: dean wants to trust them. but, also, barely trusts anyone in this verse due to him and dwight's mission. he's smart enough to know that rick's group probably defended themselves against bud's group. all things considered. but, trust is earned and dean's comes with a high price tag. bonus points if sammy is with rick's group. for extra drama!

[stormbcrn]

♕  *  v. i     /     stormborn.  –– life in exile to khal drogo’s death.

On the night Daenerys was born on Dragonstone, a severe summer storm raged, giving her the name Daenerys Stormborn. Her mother died giving birth to her.

She and her brother Viserys were taken into exile in the free cities across the narrow sea by loyal retainers. They were taken under the protection of Magister Illyrio Mopatis in the free city of Pentos, though they often did not stay in the same place too long to avoid drawing the suspicion of paid spies.

When of age, Viserys marries Daenerys to Khal Drogo, the leader of a Dothraki khalasar, to secure an army he will use to take the Iron Throne.

♕  *  v. ii     /      mother of dragons.  –– rising unburnt with three dragons to ruling meereen. 

Daenerys rises as a khaleesi to the remaining khalasar. She leads them through the red waste. Many die due to starvation. The remaining are able to enter the city of Qarth. She is faced with deception and exploitation by the Thirteen.

She obtains the Unsullied army in Astapor who fight for her as free men. With the Unsullied, she frees slaves from Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen. In Yunkai, Daenerys obtains the sell swords known as the Second Sons.

She serves as the queen of Meereen, trying to control the revolution by the Sons of the Harpy, former masters in opposition to Daenerys’ rule.

Daenerys gains a new khalasar after walking out of the fire in the capital city of Vaes Dothrak, burning the former khals inside.

♕  *  v. iii     /      protector of the realm.  –– sailing for westeros to taking the iro

Daenerys sails across the narrow sea with the Unsullied army and a khalasar, having named all who follow her a bloodrider.

She lands in Dragonstone and holds her ancestral castle. It is there she meets Jon Snow and accompanies him in the fight against the dead. She loses one of her dragons to the Night King, and later loses Jorah Mormont and Missandei.

Daenerys wins the Iron Throne ( canon divergent) and rules as a just queen over the Seven Kingdoms.

got and hotd-based aus below the cut !!!

♕  *  v. iv     /      a targaryen reign.  –– a canon-based au.

Robert's Rebellion is suppressed and the Targaryens continue to rule over the Seven Kingdoms. After the murder of Daenerys' father, her brother Rhaegar Targaryen is crowned the as the new king.

Daenerys' mother dies giving birth to her on Dragonstone, leavning Daenerys to grow up in the Red Keep as a princess under the care of her two older brothers.

♕  *  v. v     /      in all but name. –– a canon-based ward au.

With the rise of Robert Baratheon to the Iron Throne, Viserys and Daenerys are spared, stripped of their names, and given to Ned Stark after his insistence that the children should not be killed. Wearing the bastard name Waters, the former dragons are made wards of House Stark ( Note: the Starks are the default for this verse, but this house is liable to change depending on my partner ).

Daenerys Waters grows up alongside the Stark children, her brother whispering stories of dragonfire and treachery to her in the night, ensuring her time and time again that they would reclaim all that was taken from them. Dragon banners hid inside the homes of the common-folk, as they awaited their true king’s return.

♕  *  v. vi     /      fire and blood magic.  –– a canon-based au,  by request only.

After Mirri Maz Duur killed her husband and child, Daenerys becomes desperate to reverse the effects of the curse and she seeks additional knowledge about the blood magic that the witch had used against her. She reads about chants and curses, about Old Valyrian magic, and even as she learns more about the higher mysteries, she never anticipates using it but to bear a living child.

While in Qarth, she discovers that her magic, and that of sorcerers around her, is strongest in the presence of her dragons. She knew then, though she would not admit it, that she must learn all she can of their magic lest someone uses it against her.

Daenerys gravitates towards curses and enchantments cast using fire and blood.

♕  *  v. vii     /      queen of the ashes.  –– a canon-based post-season 8 verse. ( more info. )

Daenerys loses control of Drogon, and it is he who burns down King's Landing.

King’s Landing is not restored.  The ruins become a favorite nesting spot for Drogon and he often is seen circling its skies.

Daenerys marries Gendry Baratheon as she legitimized him before burning down King’s Landing. She rules Westeros from the ancestral seat of House Baratheon at Storm's End.

♕  *  v. viii     /      the mad king’s daughter.  –– a canon-based  mad queen verse.

Daenerys' decent into madness is slow. This verse explores her mindset after arriving to Westeros and the effect of power, paranoia, and betrayal on her psyche. She grows exceedingly unbothered by the acts of ruthlessness that is deemed necessary to reach the throne. Once the wheel breaks, it will all have meaning.

Daenerys is not killed after burning King's Landing ( partner preference: Jon stabs her but she is not killed ) and instead serves as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms like her father before her.

♕  *  v. ix     /      the blacks.  –– a house of the dragon au. ( more info. )

Daenerys is the second-born daughter of Aemma and Viserys Targaryen, making her Rhaenyra's younger sister.

Drogon hatches on Aemma's funeral pyre ( and, depending on partner preference, Viserion and Rhaegal hatch too ).

Daenerys leaves for Essos when she becomes of age. Depending on partner preference, I may incorporate some aspects of her Game of Thrones canon by having her liberate Slaver's Bay and / or take Meereen.

♕  *  v. ix     /      the greens. –– a house of the dragon au. ( more info. )

Daenerys is the first-born daughter of Helaena and Aegon Targaryen.

On the deaths of her brothers and uncles, her father names Daenerys his heir and arranges for her departure for Essos to ensure her safety in the dance.

Daenerys takes three dragon eggs from the pits before boarding a ship for Essos. She lives in exile under the protection of Illyrio Mopatis as the last of Aegon Targaryen's lineage.

Daenerys hatches her dragons as the last of house Targaryen's dragons were dying under Aegon the Dragonbane's rule, leading some to believe Daenerys is the rightful heir of the Iron Throne.

♕  *  v. x     /      be a dragon. –– a canon-based shapeshifter au, by request only. Affiliated with dracharenae.

The Targaryens are descendants of an ancient race of shapeshifters that were thought to have gone extinct hundreds of years prior.

Daenerys can shift into a dragon's form, where she has copper scales that gleam silver in the sunlight.

[chaos--mode]

CASE FILE #008 : REN HARLEY .

VERSES

THE WISP WEAVER — DA: THE VEILGUARD COMPANION AU. ! this verse is currently my main focus, meaning that replies, threads, etc. in this verse are prioritized over others.

See this post for full info on this verse. Born to a highly respected Magister House in Tevinter, Ren fled as a young adult when she discovered her father's involvement in a series of sacrifices tied to the Venatori. Once her magic manifested she quickly realised that something about her wasn't quite right: she could interact with spirits, with demons. On the run from her power-obsessed father Ren kept to the shadows, eventually joining the Friends of Red Jenny to spread chaos in her wake while helping those that needed it. Despite her good intentions, her strange and unnerving abilities earned her a fearsome reputation. Someone who could wrap themselves in the Fade, who could see spirits and demons from the waking world and twist their very nature to suit her whims? The Wisp Weaver was not someone to be trifled with.

THE LAST MAN — MAIN (DEFAULT).

Ren (27) owns and operates The Last Man, a queer speakeasy-by-night, coffee-shop-by-day tucked in the heart of downtown Lower Manhattan, NY.

MANHATTAN SKYLINE — UNIVERSITY ERA.

Ren (22) works part-time at a shabby Lower Manhattan dive bar to pay her way through NYU.

SWARM OF BEES — TEEN ERA.

Ren is in her late teens (18-19), somewhere between her senior year of high school, the summer between high school and college, or her freshman year of college.

CHERRY BITTERS — HELLAVERSE AU.

Ren dies in 1985 at 18, manifesting in Hell. She becomes “The Contract Killer”, a witch with the ability to break lesser soul deals. Her front? Cherry Bitters, a burlesque lounge in downtown Pentagram City. Hellaverse au Ren has her own blog!

CLOUDS IN OUR LUNGS — APOCALYPSE AU.

ACT I The world as Ren knows it ends on a sunny, nondescript afternoon. The dead don't stay that way, and they're fucking hungry. The worst part of it all, though, if you were to ask Ren? She doesn't know where Alex is. Ren spends the start of the apocalypse by herself. Even when she's with other people, other survivors, she's not really there. Not when she doesn't know where her sister is. People die. People she sort of knows, just on the peripherals of it all. It's horrific, and all Ren can think about every time is how she needs to find Alex, needs to make sure that didn't happen to her; doesn't happen to her. She just needs to know. Ren is alone-but-not-alone for one year, three months, one week, five days, and three hours. She finds Alex in some middle-of-nowhere place that she never would have even looked at twice. ACT II Ren and Alex are both ostensibly different people when they find each other after the world ends. But the one thing that didn't change for either of them is how far they'll go for their family. So they set out to find Dawn, knowing that if they both survived, there's no way in hell that a witch that's been dodging demons and Eldritch creatures since birth isn't still out there somewhere. It takes a hell of a lot of walking, one or two or a bunch of new scars for both sisters, and just a little guidance from forces that are maybe a bit tired of watching Ren fumble with her powers. Dawn feels the tug of fate, the thread that winds between her and Ren and Alex three, and lets it lead them to her. Finally — finally — Ren manages to reunite what little is left of her family, the one she chose; the one she will always choose. ACT III Dawn wasn't alone when they found her; what was left of her coven came with her. So when they find an old, abandoned mining town up in the mountains of who knows where, it's an easy decision to stay there. The older witches create protections for them, sigils to ward away people and undead alike, glamours to hide them from the more curious wanderers, and alarms to warn them if all else fails. It takes time to set magic powerful enough to protect such a large area, and concentration to maintain it. Energy that they just don't have, at first. But things get easier as time goes on. They plant crops, and make their own food, and forage in the woods. What starts off as a place to stop turns into a base, and then a camp, and eventually it becomes a home. It's not exactly the happily ever after that Ren might have expected to get, but considering the circumstances? Yeah, she'll take it. Do you think it lasts?

THE CHAOS MAGE — BG3 COMPANION AU.

NOBLE ORIGINS REN'S CHARACTER SHEET Ren’s father, Niall, is part of a lower noble house in Baldur’s Gate. Her mother, Marie, while not a noble, is a talented bard and adventurer. She’s deemed “famed (and wealthy) enough” to overcome her commoner status. Marie settles down, to Niall’s great insistence and her own reluctance, and they soon have Ren and her twin brother, Matt. Their mother leaves when the twins are just on the cusp of teenhood, no longer willing to tolerate their father’s abuse and missing her days of adventure. Ren and Matt become hostile to one another over the years. She tries to be the perfect noble daughter in an attempt to avoid her father’s ire, while her brother acts out and invites it. This creates a larger rift between them. Eventually their father remarries to a beautiful young elven woman. Sharon, a widow and the sole survivor from a once-famed adventuring troupe, has a half-elven daughter, Alex, who is younger even than Ren herself. A ROGUE'S JOURNEY 1482 DR, Summertide: Ren meets and falls for Aaron, a charming but penniless bard, though they keep the relationship secret knowing her father wouldn’t approve. It doesn’t last. 1482 DR, Leaffall: Ren and Alex host a ball for a friend’s name day. Unbeknownst to them, Dawn (the friend) is tangled up with some rather nefarious forces. The party is attacked by demons that seek Dawn’s power. Ren and Alex barely make it out alive. 1483 DR, Highsun: Ren’s twin brother, Matt, supposedly dies in a mysterious fire. (spoiler alert: that’s not what happened) 1484 DR, The Claw of the Sunsets: Young peasants start to go missing, eventually being found dead, horribly mutilated and contorted. Scared for her scorned ex-lover’s life, Ren takes it upon herself to investigate. She soon discovers her father’s involvement with forces beyond the Mortal Plane. While she doesn’t know the details of their deal, she finds out that the first requirement was to sacrifice his first-born child - Matt. Ren flees from Baldur’s Gate, knowing her father would not hesitate to have her killed now that she knows his secret, taking Alex and Sharon with her. 1485 TO 1492 DR: Ren eventually meets Rin Fairweather, a half-orc bard that leads the Fantastical Mystics, a colourful (and mischievous) troupe of traveling performers. She joins them, bringing her newfound family along with her. They travel up and down the Sword Coast, steering clear of Baldur’s Gate but otherwise performing for all manner of crowds. For the lower class, they put on an excellent show. For the upper class, however, the true work begins: robbing them blind. Asher Volley and Vale Cortenza, another two members of the troupe, take to Ren alongside Rin, and the three teach Ren the finer points of thievery over the years.

STARING IN THE EYE — STORM CHASER AU.

THE TEAM. Ali M. Grace: Engineering & Tech. Sierra Karelle: Meteorology & Climate Science. Avery Jones: Mechanics & Vehicle Safety. REN: THE INTUITION. Ren can’t explain it, it’s just something that happens. Ever since she was a kid she’s felt this pull from somewhere deep in her chest. When the wind blows and the skies get dark is when it starts. The heavier the air, the brighter the lightning and louder the thunder, the more dangerous the storm, the harder the feeling grips at her chest and pulls. THE STORY. ! THE EVENTS OF THIS VERSE FEATURE AN ALTERNATE, NON- SUPERNATURAL VERSION OF REN’S STORY. After everything that happened in Salem, Ren’s family ends up moving further inland than they originally planned. Ren gets a job working a bar in Cincinnati, OH while her sister finishes high school. The thing about her little ‘gift’, though, is that it won’t stop pulling at her. It’s the summer after Alex graduates that it happens. The girls get in their car for a summer road trip across the country all the way back to the California coast. Ren feels this inexplicable pull as they drive through tornado alley, something that leads them to drive further south than the original plan and stop at a nondescript diner not far outside Wichita, KA. They end up in a crowded storm shelter, making it by the skin of their teeth thanks to a quick-thinking stranger. The girls spend the next three days helping with relief efforts. Ren makes friends with the stranger that saved their lives while they’re there; a Kentucky-born engineer with a chip on her shoulder and a storm in her dark eyes. Ren and Alex make it to California, but when they go back home, Ren heads a bit north. She meets up with Ali in Detroit and they set up shop, heading down south every spring and summer to do what they can to help. The two women spend a few years chasing storms in Ali’s old stomping grounds before they run into another duo. Avery and Sierra are working on their own project based in Fraser Valley, BC. The four of them spend the season racing each other, competing to see which team is better, faster. It doesn’t take them long to see how much better they’d all work together.

S.T.A.R. — D:BH AU.

Ren is an android athlete, built to compete as an olympic gymnast. See this post for more info.

SUPERTROPICALI — FAME AU.

Ren (27) is 18 when her father moves across the country without her. She continues to pursue cheer, which somehow (inexplicably) lands her as Hollywood's next pop sweetheart. It's really not all it's cracked up to be.

BACK IN CHICAGO — THE BEAR AU.

Ren (27) leases the building that used to be The Green Door Tavern, up the street from The Beef, for her dive bar-slash-speakeasy- slash-coffee-shop.

KILLING BOYS — SUCCUBUS AU.

A Jennifer's Body-inspired au where Ren (27) is a boy-killing succubus. That's it that's the verse.

CHERRY BOMB — STRANGER THINGS AU.

Set around the events of Stranger Things season 4 (before, during, or just after, as is most relevant). Ren (18-19) made her way to Hawkins, guided by something whispering in her ear.

MOTHER OF MONSTERS — ELDRITCH HORROR AU.

In our world, someone watches their best friend make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with their crush from the other side of the room. Across realms, somewhere dark and dangerous and deadly, two figures stand facing each other on the battlefield of their deaths. Long, blood-crusted waves fall over one figure’s shoulders, while the other is haloed by a mess of dark brown curls. Aaron Moore is no longer Aaron Moore, snared by Apollo and transformed into something inhuman. Ren Harley is a shell, devastated by the loss of her sister and overcome with blind rage, the need for revenge, for justice, offered readily by Lilith. She will stop at nothing to kill Apollo, to make Him hurt as much as she possibly can. Even if it means that the world burns. THE ELDRITCH BEING. The Other Realm was corrupted when it connected to our world, turned into something foul and dangerous, but that isn't its true nature. Not Lilith's true nature. She exists beyond human comprehension, Her wants not something we can understand. She doesn't even want the way we do. But She sure as hell doesn't want us in Her domain, or our twisted versions of Her creatures, Her children. Lilith has been weakened. Driven into hiding, She lurks, She stalks, She watches. Waiting for a way, a chance to drive the intruders from Her dominion. For good, hopefully, this time. THE PACT. Ren thinks she's going to die, when the Hellion Imps yank her and Aaron to the ground while they help Dawn Matthews face off against Apollo. Ren is practically sure of it. But then something happens, something she causes, and when she opens her eyes again she's somewhere... else. Still the Other Realm, but it's brighter. No longer the muted golds and sickly yellows of Apollo's domain. This place is vibrant, painfully so, all bright oranges and flaming reds. A creature of gnashing teeth and swirling vortexes stands before her; Lilith. And then Apollo's victory cry rings out, hollow and booming and undeniable. It means one thing and one thing only; Alex is dead. Ren breaks. She sobs, wails, screams to the creature before her, begging for Her to send Ren back. She doesn't. She just watches. She waits. And then, when Ren is truly and utterly destroyed, consumed by grief and pain and just the slightest flicker of rage, Lilith comes to her. She offers Ren the only thing she could possibly care about anymore: REVENGE

[chrmatiica-moved]

@pathstaken​ ; steve  :      ‘ huh - uh  .  .  .  that  was  . .  .  that  was  rough, ’  /  meme ; accepting.

"      𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇  𝐈𝐒  𝐏𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐈𝐓  𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘      .      .      .     are  you  sure  you’re  okay?     i  wouldn’t  blame  you  if  you  were  fucked  up  about  this,      ”     robin  asked,  making  sure  to  keep  her  distance  from  him  but  still  sitting  across  from  him,  hoping  that  she  was  enough  to  keep  him  calm  and  stop  him  from  doing  something  really  stupid.     she  hadn’t  quite  processed  how  she  really  felt  about  what  had  just  happened.     it  had  been  a  lot  to  think  about  since  the  savior  ambush,  since  the  deaths  of  abraham  and  glenn,  that  they  hadn’t  been  prepared  for  what  would  happen  when  the  saviors  came  to  collect.     or  that  negan  was  the  big  bad  leader  that  they  had  heard  so  much  about.     the  person  who  had  been  like  a  father  to  steve,  the  man  who  had  made  sure  they  got  out  of  their  hometown  alive  and  safe,  the  husband  to  lucille,  the  man  they  had  longed  believe  to  be  dead.     turns  out  he  wasn’t  dead,  he  was  very  much  alive  and  he  was  determined  to  make  their  lives  a  living  hell.     it  would  be  no  surprise  to  her  if  steve  was  a  mess,  she  just  didn’t  want  him  to  do  anything  stupid  and  get  himself  killed.     she  didn’t  even  know  if  he  knew  about  lucille  being  taken  by  negan.     robin  just  wanted  to  make  sure  that  he  was  okay  before  she  went  to  check  on  carol  and  tilly,      “     talk  to  me,  steve.     i  need  you  to  use  those  words  and  tell  me  how  you  feel  ‘cause  i’m  scared  you’re  gonna  do  some  dumb  shit  if  i  leave  you  alone,      ”

[snakereign-a]

tag drop 2/3 - verses.

i talk to God but the sky is empty. | VERSE I - CHILDHOOD

i face God and walk backwards into hell. | VERSE II - YOUNG ADULTHOOD

god will bow. | VERSE III - ADULTHOOD

i have become death. | VERSE IV - PRE-RESURRECTION

i could set this world on fire and call it rain. | VERSE V - POST-RESURRECTION

a world outside of place and time. | VERSE VI - TIMETURNER & ROOM VERSE

it’s the glory of the sea that has turned my head. Dead men don’t lie. | VERSE VII - PIRATE AU

our hands wet with the blood of empires and we lick it off. | VERSE VIII - TRIUMVIRATE AU

if i cannot bend heaven i shall raise hell. | VERSE X - ALTERNATIVE POST-RESURRECTION

the fire can’t touch me for i have burned too many times. | VERSE XI - ASOIAF AU

it is awful not to be loved. it makes you mean and violent and cruel. | VERSE XII - MUGGLE AU

i wonder if my scars will stay with me longer than most people do. | VERSE XIII - ADOPTION VERSE

i was born to make history - standing in the ashes of who i used to be. | VERSE XIV - PROFESSOR AU

a man with charm is a very dangerous thing. | VERSE XV - MODERN AU

[staranon95]

DinCobb Week Day 4: AU/Freebie (SFW)

for @dincobbweek​ this time we’re returning to a favourite AU of mine. The Halo universe!

i’ve previously explored a Halo/Mandalorian AU. the first story is very much NSFW but this story acts as a prequel showing how Cobb and Din meet in that verse

before we get started here is some very handy terminology

ODST - Orbital Drop Shock Trooper Spartan - a term for someone who was a child soldier and given physical augmentations to become a weapon ONI - Office of Naval Intelligence (so like the in universe FBI) UNSC - United Nations Space Corp (the army but in space) Covenant - invading alien forces and the main villains in the series Reach - a planet humans had settled that was destroyed by the Covenant

AO3 Link

Blast Radius

When Cobb was told by his CO to expect some heavy infantry of reinforcements, he was expecting another ODST squadron, not a Spartan III whose black and silver armour made him look more like an ONI operative than a functioning war machine for the UNSC.

Now granted, Cobb had nothing against Spartans. Spartans were the reason they were even managing to hold their own against the Covenant. But he did have a problem with this Spartan.

“Sergeant Vanth?”

Cobb looked up from the view into New Mombasa to see his Lieutenant Jo leading forward a heavily armed Spartan.

“Infantry’s arrived,” she said, and Cobb wished she didn’t have her helmet on so he could read her better.

“Sergeant Vanth,” the Spartan said. “Spartan A114 reporting in.” The Spartan then snapped to it and saluted him to show that he knew how to respect his superiors, but Cobb knew better. Spartans had a reputation to Lone Wolf it, and Cobb didn’t need that shit on his team.

“A Spartan,” he said incredulously. The Spartan easily towered over him by nearly a foot. All those augmentations and front of the line armour specs only added to the mass that made all Spartans seem unkillable. But in Cobb’s eyes, it made them cocky as well. “Wasn’t expecting a Spartan.”

“It was all they had on hand to offer,” 114 said.

“Right, well, settle in, big guy. We’re mainly search and rescue. Free hostages and get them to safety while clearing out the nests, you hear?”

114 nodded. “Loudly.” He unhooked a sniper rifle from his back and moved forward to join the rest of Cobb’s team with the look out—without needing to be told or looking to be told.

Cobb sighed. It was going to be a long fight.

…

“Vanth, come in.”

“Go ahead, Issa.”

“I’m spotting Jakal reinforcements on the rooftops. Beam rifles from the looks of it.”

“All. Squad, keep your ears on and your heads low and—”

Cobb heard a crack over head and ducked low as a second one followed shortly after. He held his battle rifle up as he looked for the source of the shots.

“Jakals are cleared. You’re free to go.”

That was 114.

Cobb sighed and clicked his tongue. “A heads up would be nice next time, 114.”

“Time’s of the essence, Sergeant.” Then he heard a ‘click’ and Cobb knew the bastard had likely muted on his end.

Fucking Spartans.

…

New Mombasa was a fucking mess. Based on the chatter they were picking up, the Covenant forces seemed to become more and more contained to one part of the city, like they were congregating. Other ODST squads had been deployed to hotter areas in the city, and Cobb’s smaller strike team made it easier for infiltration to minimalize casualties. They were the cleaning crew, really, and Cobb didn’t mind that.

But he did mind that his Spartan was deathly silent most of the time.

He had 114 act as their eyes. With his high-powered scope, he was able to get a better view of the terrain before Cobb’s team went down in to clear it out, and Cobb had to admit, 114 was a good shot. Those enhanced reflexes sure came in clutch in the best ways possible, but Cobb was expecting at least some communication on his end.

114 acted like a brick wall and Cobb hated it. He knew nothing of the Spartan, didn’t even know his name, and while it was nice to be fighting with someone who was this well skilled, Cobb didn’t know if he’d choose 114 over another top notch ODST squad.

“Looks like we got a standard fair here,” Jo said. “Couple of Brutes. Grunts as back up and a Jakal nest.”

Cobb nodded. “You see a Chieftain?”

“Nah, looks like pretty standard fare for them.”

“Good. Listen up! We clear this intersection and that gets us one step closer to the bank. You play it safe and you play it hard. Cover always. Focus fire on Jakals and Grunts and then the Brutes. Clear the field before we got in heavy. Got it?”

He received a chorus of Oo Rahs! and then utter silence from 114. “Hey, Spartan, you got that?”

The Spartan nodded and said nothing.

“Good. I want you on that roof top. Take the Jakals and then we move in. Provide cover from the Brutes if they get close.”

“I think it’d be better if I were on the ground with you,” the Spartan said, and Cobb was surprised he said anything at all—let alone battle advice.

“No,” Cobb said. “You’re best on the rooftops.”

“But—”

“That’s an order, Spartan.”

He could see that 114 was frustrated with how he tightened his grip around his sniper, but he fell in line all the same and marched off to find a perch of the sight before the team moved in to clear the junction.

“Get into position,” he said to his team, and they all crouched for cover and waited for 114 to get into position.

He looked through the scope of his battle rifle and scoped out the scene. Four Brutes, half a dozen Grunts, and two Jakals. Nothing in comparison to what Cobb had dealt with before, but it was better to play things safe and slow rather than to rush in.

“114, check in,” he said.

Silence.

“114, this is Sergeant Vanth. Check in.”

Again, silence. And then he knew why.

Rather than targeting the Jakals first and letting the squadron in there was a sudden explosion that caught Cobb off guard. 114 had discharged a round into one of the plasma cells stacked in the area that took the Covenant force by surprise, killing one Brute in the onslaught. Then Cobb saw 114 jump into the fray from what should’ve been his perch, taking a running jump to clear a distance of a dozen or so feet and come to the ground in a roll to lessen the impact from a fifteen foot drop. Then he struck with deadly precision on the Covenant left recovering from the shock.

“Fuck,” Cobb said. “Issa, eyes on the Jakals.”

“You got it, Sarge.”

“The rest of you, eyes forward! Now!”

He leapt over his cover, raised his rifle against his shoulder and began to pick off the Grunts one by one, while 114 aimed for the Brutes. And he was doing so with just a magnum pistol and a knife.

One of the Brutes raised his spiker in Cobb’s direction, and he dove down behind a concrete barrier as the deadly spikes imbedded themselves into the asphalt where he had just been standing previously. A Grunt jumped into his field of vision on his left and he turned and fired, hitting the Grunt’s methane tank, which he saw spark and catch before it blew. He raised his hands for cover and then looked over the barrier to see the field. The Grunts were fleeing. The Jakals were dead, and 114 was locked in combat with the only remaining Brute until he managed to drive his knife into the Brute’s throat and finish it off with a shot from the magnum until the Brute fell dead.

Cobb charged up to him. “What was that!?”

114 wiped his knife off his vambrace before sheathing it. “I told you. It was better to have me on the ground.”

“You disobeyed an order!” It was hard to feel commanding in contrast to a Spartan, who towered over Cobb in every way and could likely throw him up against the wall.

“It was efficient. You aren’t using me for my skills.” It also didn’t help that 114 was a calm speaker, rarely showing any form of inflection.

“Your skills are firing cover. My team can handle the job on their own. Disobey me like that again and I’ll see you reassigned.”

The Spartan looked at him, head tilted down in his direction. For the longest time he didn’t move until he took a half step back.

“Clear?” Cobb said.

“Clear, Sergeant.”

“Good.”

He looked over his shoulder to his team and waved them forward. “We’re moving.”

…

Scrounging in conditions like this were hard. Training to be an ODST required a certain amount of time in the field already before jumping into training specifically to handle an orbital drop. And then from there it was ‘survive until you group up or you’re pulled out’, which meant with the sun falling on the city that was burning, it was time to break for an MRE and some water before the final push into the heart of the city to help with the withdrawal of ONI scientists. It was the last job before the UNSC was pulling out the troops, which meant that ONI was going nuclear with its facilities so it wouldn’t fall into the hands of the enemy. New Mombasa was being abandoned in the short run. Once the Covenant was off Earth, they’d probably try to rebuild, but for now, it was pull back and see what happened.

It was nice, for a moment to sit on the ground with his back against the wall and his helmet off. It could’ve been a nice day in the city. The sun was warm. There was a breeze cooling his sticky skin from the sweat when the internal fans in his helmet couldn’t cool him fast enough.

But then he saw the Spartan who stood there rigidly off to the side of their little encampment. He had his back to the rest of them and seemed as if he was still on patrol despite the fact that the area was safe and they needed to rest before the final push.

Cobb sighed and got to his weary feet. He walked forward, grabbing at his pouch for one of the MREs he still had left. “Hey, Spartan.”

114 only turned to look over his shoulder.

“You eat yet?”

“Not hungry,” he said, before looking over the highway they were on and the sheer drop it led to.

“Come on, partner. You gotta eat. We’ve been going for near twelve hours and at least another twelve yet before we’re out for good.” Cobb stepped in front of him and handed out the MRE. He didn’t know if Spartans had the same standards as ODSTs. Did he carry MREs? Looked like he had water at the least.

Then 114 did lift his hand and take the MRE from Cobb’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Nothin’ to it, pal.” He stepped back, slapped 114 on the arm, and went back to his squad.

Then, when Cobb was sitting on the ground once more, he saw the Spartan move to a concrete barrier and take a seat. Then he removed his helmet, showing only a shock of dark hair, overgrown by UNSC standards. He didn’t see his face, but at least the Spartan ate.

…

Their final push into New Mombasa was the ONI facility itself, a giant cube looking building built in the center of a manmade pond to look fancy. It was a rough sight, but under the cover of darkness, it wasn’t like Cobb could see it all that well. All he was looking at was the sight of four ONI scientists being overlooked by a Covenant strike team—which included a Brute Chieftain.

Chieftains were worse than the usual foot soldier Brutes. Their armour was heavier, including armour that could only be struck through or cracked at the very least with specific armour piercing rounds. Chieftains also usually carried heavier weaponry, and this one had a gravity hammer on his back.

“They’ll want to keep the scientists alive,” Cobb said. “That’ll be our advantage to get in. Issa, what do you see?”

“By my count? Five Brutes on top of the Chieftain. A dozen Grunts. Jakals with shields but no beam rifles.”

“The structure doesn’t make good for sniper nests,” Jo added.

“114, you there?” Cobb asked.

“I’m here.”

“Report in.”

“I’m in position. Not the easiest place to leave in a pinch if you need back up.”

“We’ll go slow,” Cobb said. “Target the Brutes and get them broken up. I don’t want to fight the back.”

“Hear you loud and clear.”

114 went quiet on his end but didn’t mute.

Progress.

Then he turned to the scene at hand to plan the best way forward.

“On your count, 114. You take the lead. We’ll pick off the stragglers.”

“Going loud in three.”

Cobb looked down his scope and breathed in deeply and watched as 114’s first shot landed and struck a brute dead.

“Keep them clear from the hostages,” Cobb said. “I don’t want them taking them anywhere else. Issa, Jo, on me. We’re moving.”

They moved in as a unit before breaking and posting up at the windows that lead into the building they were infiltrating, most of which were broken. Once Cobb had a clear line of sight, he opened fire.

The darkness gave them a natural cover, and with their spread position, the enemy had no idea where they were. They kept the Brutes at bay away from the hostages where they were pressed flat on the floor to cover from the spray of bullets and plasma. For the time being, they had the upper hand until the Brute Chieftain roared and pointed in their direction.

“They’re coming out! Heads up!” Cobb said.

First the Grunts and then the few remaining Jakals which were picked off with deadly precision until the Chieftain himself charged out with his hammer swinging in Jo’s direction.

Cobb stood up from his cover and peppered the Chieftain’s back with bursts of rounds until he turned on Cobb and came in his direction.

“Cobb!” He heard Jo’s concern over the radio, but it was too late.

He rolled and dropped to avoid the Chieftain’s hammer as it discharged a burst that affected the CPU components in Cobb’s armour. But then the Chieftain swung again and the force of it sent him to his back, momentarily stunned before the Chieftain swung the weapon around, showing the sharp edge on the other side of the weapon head before crashing it down on Cobb’s chestplate.

The chestplate cracked under the pressure, and Cobb felt a burst of pain before the force drove the air from his lungs and he laid there, prone and stunned.

His ears were ringing, and he gasped like a fish which only made the wound worse until spots clouded his vision and he blacked out.

He blinked and saw the Chieftain’s armour cracked by an armour piercing round from a sniper.

He blinked again and saw Issa and Jo corner the Chieftain before a second round struck his back before a third struck his neck and he began to tumble.

He blinked and lost sight of what was before him.

…

“Cobb? Cobb.”

“Sarge, lift your right hand if you’re awake.”

“Is he okay?”

“We need to get the hammer out. His lungs could be damaged.”

“I’ll handle that. Hold him steady.”

Pressure on his shoulders, gently so before a wrenching and—

He gasped and coughed, felt pain radiating out from his chest and he tried to raise his hands to cover it, but he was held down gently.

“Spartan, there’s biofoam at his hip.”

“Got it.”

He heard the sound of an aerosol can being applied to his chest before the pressure on his lungs was abated and he could take a deep breath and relax.

“You there, Sarge?”

He nodded and tried to reach back and pat for Issa’s hands.

“Chestplate is cracked,” he heard 114 say. “The biofoam will hold for a few hours, but he needs medical attention.”

“I’ll get to the hostages,” Issa said.

“Evac point is over the bridge,” Jo said. “I’ll post up with Issa and get the hostages to safety. You good with the Sarge?”

“Just fine.”

Then he felt himself being lifted from the ground and cradled close to someone’s chest.

“Hey, Spartan,” he mumbled.

“That was damn reckless. You’re lucky you’re alive.”

“Knew you were watchin’.”

He heard 114 sigh. “Keep your words to yourself, Vanth. This fight isn’t over yet.”

…

He had heavy bruising to his chest and a hairline fracture in his sternum. He was on bedrest for a least a month with another month of light duty. He was lucky his lungs weren’t pierced.

Regardless, he had the luxury of his own private room in an actual hospital and not just a field tent. He was on some medical grade painkillers, and his team was being commended for their bravery. All around successful.

But now with this free time, he intended to do some research—never could abide stagnation for long. He pulled up a datapad and using his UNSC credentials, managed to get into the databases of every active soldier on the ground. He searched for Spartan A114, and as he suspected, he was given a lot of redacted material.

The Spartan III program was still tightly under wraps, but parts of it were being declassified, and through the grapevine, Cobb knew they were different from the old Spartan IIs.

Not as good training facilities. Not as good outcomes or survival rates.

He saw the name ‘Reach’ in 114’s file and knew if the Spartan had survived the planet’s destruction, he was a survivor to reckon with, and also why he didn’t have a fireteam of his own. He probably lost them all in the fray.

Everything else including personal details like date of birth, home planet, and name were redacted, so there wasn’t much else he could look into for the time being. But he did file a request to have 114 placed permanently on his team. He wanted to keep the Spartan close.

…

Friends and teammates would come by and visit him. Issa and Jo in pairs, but then one strange visitor came: a very, very tall man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a neatly kept moustache.

“This seat taken?”

He’d heard that voice of his helmet dozens of times, and Cobb looked at him and couldn’t believe his eyes, that he was seeing the Spartan—his Spartan—out of his armour.

Cobb waved his hand to the chair and pushed a button to have his bed elevated so he could face 114 head on.

It was almost comical to see 114 sit down in a chair not meant for someone of his size, but he made it work. He was dressed in a uniform and not standard military fatigues. There were metals pinned to the beast pocket, and Cobb could see what many of them meant.

“Ceremony?” Cobb asked.

“No. Meeting. I heard you put in a request for me to be made a permanent member of your squad.”

“Well. I liked you. Felt we fought well together eventually. We could use another on our team.”

“I’m surprised you’ve been managing well with only the three of you.”

“Used to be four, but I sacked the other guy.” Cobb shook his head at the memory of Toro and his hot-headed ways. The kid was lucky he hadn’t lost his head if Cobb hadn’t pulled him back time and time again.

“How are you holding up?” 114 asked, eyes drifting to Cobb’s chest and how its swathed with bandage and gauze.

“Eh. Could be worse. Chestplate took the brunt of it though.”

“That’s what it’s for.” 114 breathed in deeply, licked his lips, and looked down at his hands. “It’s . . . it’s good to see you. That you’re okay.”

“Thanks to you.”

“I barely had my sights on him.”

“Hey, Spartan. Look at me.”

He looked up, and Cobb was struck with how upset 114 looked. Upset in almost a sad way.

“I’m here. You killed the Brutes. Hostages made it out. That is a hundred-percent in my books.”

“Still, I . . .” He breathed in, a shuddering breath. “I don’t like watching from afar when my teammates are in the direct line of fire. It makes me feel . . .”

“Like you can’t protect us.”

114 said nothing.

“Listen,” Cobb said. “We can discuss this. Figure out new strategies. My team, we’re new at this. We’ve worked alongside only a handful of Spartans but not directly with one. We’ll figure it out, see what works for the both of us. But I’m not tolerating Lone Wolf shit. We’re a team.”

114 nodded.

“You good, soldier?”

114 raised his head. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Cobb smirked. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Satisfied with that answer, 114 stood and prepared to leave but just before he could get to the door, Cobb called out, “Hey, Spartan. You got a name to add to the A114?”

The Spartan turned to look at him, pulling open the door as he did, and after a moment of hesitation, he said, “Din.”

“Nice to have you, Din. Rest up if you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

[storiesofwildfire]

new au verse tag drop

( au verse ; destiny ) a warlock game to make your blood boil ( au verse ; mortal ) being human ( au verse ; witch ) burn him ( au verse ; dead by daylight ) death is not an escape  ( au verse ; drag queen ) emerald shores ( au verse ; iron man role reversal ) father of iron ( au verse ; vampire ) first blood ( au verse ; harry potter ) hogwarts is my home ( au verse ; jotun prince ) next in line ; the runt of the litter ( au verse ; the evil within ) krimson city ( au verse ; skull island ) let me list all the ways you’re gonna die ( au verse ; cyberpunk ) metamorphosis 2.0 ( au verse ; crimson peak ) no one warned me of crimson peak  ( au verse ; myth ragnarok ) ragnarok was death but it was also rebirth ( au verse ; aliens ) sharp sticks ( au verse ; siren ) songs of a siren ( au verse ; star wars i ) a prince or a jedi ( au verse ; star wars ii ) mother of the force ( au verse ; star wars iii ) there’s been an awakening  ( au verse ; egyptian pantheon ) walk like an egyptian ( au verse ; pacific rim ) we created monsters of our own ( au verse ; game of thrones ) you are all southerners to me ( au verse ; jurassic world ) you’re looking at him

[sensationalscenarios]

Sleeping Dogs: Chapter IV

AU: Based on my SF9 as Mafia au found here

Chapter Four TWs include: N/A.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: hello i know its been well over a year since i’ve updated sleeping dogs but things got hectic and well, i graduated from university! now i just work full time so i should have more time to write hopefully.

i never forgot about sleeping dogs though, and i dont think i would ever be able to fully abandon it either. i dont know if anyone still even remembers this story but if you do, thank you for supporting it and thank you for waiting. it truly means more than anything to have others enjoy my sf9 mafia verse.

so without further ado: sleeping dogs ch 4; as always any and all feedback is welcomed!

+ admin L

III | V

iv. liar

    Octagon is the hottest club in Seoul, situated in the cultural hub of Gangnam-gu, and the heart of Seven Star’s territory. The three story club offered a dance floor and entertainment hall on the main floor, three bars, an open kitchen, mezzanine private VIP bunkers, a VIP lounge, a second stage lounge, silent room, a swimming pool and women's powder room. While most building spaces in Seoul were small and cramped, Octagon was a spacious club, and despite only being open Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, provided a hefty profit for Namjoon and his boys.

    As Youngbin walked through the club, he felt himself falling into the rhythm of the music and lights. All around him people moved in a hypnotic state, laughter bubbling from their chests as their drinks sloshed around in their cups. Youngbin often forgot how powerful Seven Star were, given he was always occupied by his own business, but he was happy knowing Namjoon was doing well, that he was able to succeed thus far. Weaving through the crowd, Youngbin led Inseong and Dawon up the stairs to one of the VIP bunkers where Namjoon was waiting for them. The bunker of choice was separated from the others, in a corner that overlooked the octagon shaped hole, which provided the perfect view of the main floor of the club. Two guards stood outside, merely nodding as one held the door open for them. Inside a white, wrap around couch lined the walls, with a table in the center. The members of Seven Star were situated on the couch, their glasses all filled with varying alcoholic beverages. Their exterior reflected nothing but the attitudes of calm professionals, yet from the way in which they grasped their drinks, Youngbin knew there was nothing but anger bubbling beneath their skin.

    “Where’s the rest of your boys?” Namjoon asked, eyebrow raised as Youngbin, Inseong, and Dawon sat in the chairs across from him.

    “They got caught up at Syndrome so unfortunately they won’t be able to join us. They’re working on finding answers to our problem right now.” Youngbin replied, hyper aware of the rest of Seven Star’s eyes on him. It was risky, bringing only Inseong and Dawon here, but Youngbin knew Namjoon would never summon him like this if it weren’t dire.

    “Seulbi dear, why don’t you bring some refreshments for our guests? I’m sure they could use a drink as well. Mr. Lee and Mr. Yoo, the two of you may wait outside with the other guards. This is to be a private conversation between us and the Red Dragons. Do not let anyone disturb us. Understood?” A striking young man ordered as he straightened up in his seat beside Namjoon. Kim Seokjin, as Youngbin knew, was the son of one of the most influential couples in all of Korea. A family with so much power that even the police dared not question them. Octagon had been a gift from Seokjin’s parents to him, allowing him the freedom of running his own business. How much they knew about his activities with Seven Star Youngbin didn’t know. Seokjin acted as Namjoon’s second in command, much like what Inseong did for Youngbin.

    “Any weapons on you?” Yoongi asked, wary as he observed the three of them. Youngbin always felt pity when he looked at the other, knowing full well that it was his actions which divided Yoongi and Juho. He knew that was who the former was looking for when they first walked in.

    “Just our pistols. We left the rest of our toys at home unfortunately.” Dawon replied.

    “If you’re lying, I’ll put a bullet through your head myself.” Taehyung spat.

    “Please, as if you could draw your gun faster than me.” Dawon scoffed, arms crossed as he glared at the other. There was a certain rivalry between the two, which Youngbin attributed to their skills as snipers.

    “You wanna bet you piece of sh-”

    “Boys!” Namjoon and Youngbin called out in unison. Both Dawon and Taehyung closed their mouths, sitting back in their seats and seemingly sulking. They would’ve been great friends, Youngbin was sure, if the circumstances were different.

    “This is not the time for your petty disagreements, we have a serious matter to discuss.” Namjoon sighed, before looking at Youngbin. “As I side over the phone, there’s been another murder on our territory this time. One of our runners. He was a good kid Youngbin, a good, loyal kid.”

    “I’m so sorry to hear about his passing. I...I didn’t think this man would strike again so soon, and at you guys no less.” Youngbin said.

    “Yeomna.” Namjoon said. “That’s what the man calls himself.”

    “He gave you a name?!” Inseong pulled out his laptop from his bag, typing rapidly on his keyboard.

    “Yeah, gave us a friendly phone call and said if we didn’t join his game someone else is going to die soon.” Yoongi replied grimly. 

    “Just like the call we got. Interesting.” Inseong looked up from his laptop. “So, I didn’t find anything in police records that matched Yeomna meaning they have no idea a new serial killer is out there. However, I looked up the origin for the word and it means ‘The God of Death’. Whoever we’re dealing with has picked quite a name for himself. Yeomna is said to judge the dead and rule over the afterlife, punishing souls for their wrongdoings in life.”

    “So you’re saying we’re dealing with a lunatic playing God? Fucking hell.” Yoongi muttered.

    “I think we’re dealing with an entire group. The night when Yeomna called us, our boys were all being watched at three different locations at nearly the same time. We thought it might have been a low tier gang trying to rank up in the Underground but I don’t know. Now I feel like they’re connected. I mean think about it, there’s no way one person could orchestrate this entire thing right? He must have others working behind the scenes and if so, what worries me is that Yeomna might not be the one in control.” Inseong rubbed his chin thoughtfully, before diving into police records one more time. 

    Silence settled over everyone as the gravity of Inseong’s words hit them. Youngbin hadn’t thought about the possibility of someone higher up pulling all the strings from the shadows, and it made him wonder if they had been watched this entire time. The sudden realization that his boys were scattered hit him like a wall of bricks and he shot up in his seat. “Inseong get Juho and Chani on the line, check in with everyone and make sure they’re alright. Check the cameras outside our home and Syndrome and see if any of those guys are watching them again. Namjoon-”

    “On it.” Namjoon cut him off before he could finish, motioning for Seulbi, who had just returned with drinks. The latter quickly set the glasses down, before moving to a side compartment in the room, pulling out a laptop from it. She handed it to Namjoon, and bowed, before exiting the room once more. Namjoon typed just as quickly as Inseong, bringing up footage from all the cameras in Octagon.

    Youngbin held his breath as he watched Namjoon’s face, heart racing as he noticed the other’s change in expression. “They’re here aren’t they?”

    Namjoon nodded. “We can’t tip them off that we know though. This could be our only chance to get information. We need a game plan and quick.”

    “The way I see it we have two options: either we...question one of them, or we slip a tracker on one of them. Personally, I think we’d benefit more from the second option.” Yoongi said.

    “Well, that route’s not as fun but you make a valid point good sir.” Dawon leaned back in his seat. “So which one of you is going to do it?”

    “Pfft, lazy piece of shit.” Taehyung grumbled.

    “Listen jackass, there’s a chance they don’t know that Youngbin, Inseong, and I are here. As far as Yeomna knows, and everyone else for that matter, the Red Dragons and Seven Star are still at each other's throats. I think it’d be in both of our best interests that it stays that way.”

    “Dawon’s right. It’s better if no one knows about our...temporary alliance. Besides if word spread in the Underground about this we’ll only have more problems.” Namjoon rubbed his temples. “Jimin you’re up.”

    “Sure. I like the easy stuff.” Jimin shrugged, setting his wine glass down on the table as he got up. Namjoon signaled to Seulbi, who brought over a case from another one of the drawers in the room. Two soft clicks were heard before Namjoon opened it, revealing an assortment of devices. He removed a USB and a small, circular piece of metal, about half the size of a penny. Plugging the USB into his laptop, he tossed the small device towards Jimin, who caught it effortlessly. The two of them turned on their bluetooth earpieces, testing the connection twice.

    Straightening his clothes, Jimin left the room and made his way downstairs to mingle. All eyes in the room turned towards the security cameras, watching as Jimin weaved his way among the clubbers. Occasionally he would stop and greet a few regulars, hugging some and directing others to the bar. He ordered a couple of drinks, and situated himself with his back facing the counter. Resting his head in one hand, he casually sipped his drink, smiling at girls who looked his way. All in all Jimin looked as relaxed as anyone could.

    “There’s a guy in the room to your left. When you walk he’s going to be on the right hand side. His back is turned so that’s as good of a chance as you’ll get.” Namjoon said.

    Without responding, Jimin got up from his seat and made his way towards the designated room. Once inside Jimin glances to his right as he takes another sip. It’s now or never. He takes a step towards the man, before “stumbling” forward. The drink in his hand spills over the other, who jumps and spins around, just as Jimin is falling forward. Jimin’s giggling, though the others in the room can’t hear him, and he starts apologizing to the man quite dramatically. The man tries to help Jimin regain his balance, as the latter clings on, saying absurd things.

    “You might want to lay off the alcohol kid.” The man said.

    “I’m sooo sorry mister.” Jimin giggled again, arms still wrapped around the other’s shoulders for support. “I’ll be juuuust fine. Don’t you worry. Byeee.”

    Jimin stumbles out of the room, and for a moment, the man contemplates following the boy, but shrugs off the idea once his body disappears into the intoxicated crowd. Instead, the man pulls out his phone, typing a quick text as he makes his way towards the exit. 

    “Alright he’s leaving, you can come back up.” Namjoon grinned. “Nice acting.”

    “I try my best.” Jimin replied.

    Youngbin was quite impressed to say the least. If he hadn’t known better he would’ve thought the kid was completely shitfaced. He hadn’t even noticed whether or not the boy had successfully slipped the tracker onto the guy.

    Within moments Jimin slips back into the room and into his previous spot, picking up his wine glass as if nothing had happened. “Well I slipped it under his collar. It’s ready to go.”

    “Alright, let’s see what we can get.” Namjoon brought up a screen filled with oscillating waves as the tracker picked up various sounds from the streets outside. “Inseong can you get us visuals while I work with the audio.”

    “Sure.” Inseong typed quickly, his laptop splitting into four screens, each with a different view of the street. The cameras changed every minute or so as he hacked one camera after another, doing his best to follow the man’s movements. There were two others with him, and they appeared to be whispering amongst one another.

    Namjoon pressed a few keys on his laptop, trying his best to isolate their voices only. After a moment or two, he was finally able to enhance the portion of audio that he wanted, and he turned the volume up so that everyone could hear what was being said.

    “...at Syndrome. Kang Chanhee isn’t with them. We need to find the kid.”

    “There were only three of them at Syndrome. The rest could all be together, we might not be able to separate the kid from them.”

    “Well we gotta think of something, otherwise Boss won’t be happy.”

    “Dawon call the others. Now.” Youngbin said, fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. 

    Just as Dawon was about to call Rowoon, the sound of Youngbin’s phone rang through the room. Pulling the device out of his pocket, Youngbin frowned at the unknown number. “It’s him. It’s Yeomna.”

    Setting the phone down on the table, he answered, tapping the speaker button. “Hello?”

    “Hello again, Kim Youngbin.”

    “What the hell do you want now?”

    “Ah, straight to the point I see. I was merely wondering if you’ve spoken with Seven Star recently. I hear they have suffered a tragic loss.”

    “You should know we don’t fuck with Seven Star.”

    “I disagree. You and Namjoon seem to have quite the past. Very messy indeed.” Yeomna tsked. “Two once dear friends, nearly inseparable, were at war with each other. But now it seems as if the two of you have set aside your differences for the time being.”

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Namjoon and I have nothing to do with each other anymore.” Youngbin glanced over at Namjoon, who seemed just as concerned as he is.

    “You can’t lie to me. I know you’re working together. I know he must’ve told you my name. In fact, I even know you’re with him right now. Am I wrong, Kim Namjoon?”

    Youngbin shook his head at the other, urging him not to speak. The latter nodded in response, choosing to say nothing. After a moment of silence passed, a sigh could be heard.

    “No matter. I have other things I wanted to discuss with you all.”

    “Such as?”

    “Player three has chosen to play.”

[victorluvsalice]

Forgotten Vows Friday: Favorite Moments, Part III

Okay, we had the "dark moments I like in my fic" last week -- let's get back to the sweeter stuff this week! Specifically, let's get back to:

1. Forgetting You, Chapter 16: Shocking Revelations and Unexpected Detours -- the Victor memory in Cardbridge -- Okay, obviously I had to choose something from my favorite Alice: Madness Returns level. :p And I really loved writing this cute little sequence -- a sort of "almost-date" between Victor and Alice in Hyde Park. Given how dark the rest of the fic can get, it was nice to do a bit where they were just happy together. Even if it's a little frustrating to see Alice kinda-sorta skirt the edge of realizing she's in love with Victor yet again. . .

2. Forgetting You, Chapter 18: Of Queens, Kings, and Unwanted Usurpers -- Alice finally realizing she loves Victor in Queensland -- Which is why my next favorite moment is her moment of revelation! XD What can I say, it was cathartic to finally do, and I think I pulled it off very well! I particularly like the specific moment where it hits her -- lecturing her mental Victor about not getting into it with Jack Splatter, going on about how she's lost everyone else she's ever loved -- and suddenly realizing just what that actually means. XD Plus it's another happy moment in the darkest part of the story, and we need that. (Not to mention I made sure not to faff around with her wondering about Victor's feelings -- imagine how frustrating that would be!)

3. In The Land Of The Dead, Chapter 7: A Series of Surprises -- Lizzie telling Bonejangles her backstory, and his resultant offer to bring the family to see Elder Gutknecht -- Time to do a few LizJangles moments! There's a lot I like about "In The Land of the Dead" in general, especially since it's the story that more or less sparked off my secondary OTP, but this turning point in Lizzie and Bonejangles's relationship is definitely up there in the favorites. I think I did their argument very well -- Lizzie overreacting to a comment of his because of her trauma, and him getting pissed off until he realizes that the way she's talking seems to indicate she's got some heavy stuff in her backstory. . .then Lizzie finally trusting him with the truth of what happened, and his response of telling her that he can get her to someone who can help. . .it's sweet, it gets the plot moving, and it shows just how well they can get along. Which helps build the foundation of the next moment. . .

4. In The Land Of The Dead, Chapter 10: Elder's Surprise -- Bonejangles's confession that he loves Lizzie, and Lizzie realizing she loves him back -- Naturally, if I'm doing Alice realizing she's in love with Victor, I should do her sister realizing she's in love with Bonejangles! Honestly, what I might like most about this scene is Lorina developing a hilarious case of smug and dragging her husband away so the new couple can have a moment alone. XD But the actual confession is pretty sweet (and amusing -- remember the "tell me, right here and now, how do you feel about me?" "Honest? Slightly terrified" exchange? XD), and I like Lizzie stumbling upon her own feelings while arguing with her trauma. It's similar to Alice's moment, but at the same time, different enough to register as unique. And it's nice to see her overcome her past enough to take the next step into a real relationship. Shame it had to happen after she'd died, but. . .well, them getting together while they're alive (or at least a little less traditionally dead) is a matter for other AUs.

5. Remembering You, Chapter 5: A Noble Woman -- Victor dealing with the aftermath of his "little moment" and Alice coming in to comfort him -- Honestly, I like a hell of a lot about this chapter -- Alice dealing with Dickenson, Alice getting her rabbit back, Alice and Victoria starting on the road to friendship -- but this is definitely the absolute favorite moment. It was good to bring back Victor's POV after its absence since Chapter 22 of "Forgetting You" -- I enjoyed the chance to finally show what's going on in his head, and just what exactly he's struggling against, poor guy. And Alice slipping into his room with Mr. Bunny, cuddling him and helping release him from Bumby's voice in his head for just a little while. . .it's just a soft, warm moment, and it gives me some (slightly bittersweet, given the circumstances) fuzzies.

6. Remembering You, Chapter 4: Familiar Faces & Chapter 10: A Prostitute, A Former Viscountess, And Two Fish Merchants Walk Into Houndsditch -- The "Alice decides to go kill Jack after hearing Bumby nearly lent Victor out to him" and "Victor decides to go kill Jack after remembering the Mermaid fire" moments -- Cheating again to get two similar moments in two different chapters together. XD But I love this mirrored reaction between my OTP between the two chapters, and it was fun to do. In the latter moment, I also like Victor on instinct grabbing a fork from his lunch to go stab Jack Splatter with.

7. Fixing You, Chapter 3: Magical Mystery Tour -- Victor and Alice reacquainting themselves with Fixxler and learning about magic -- I was excited to get Fixxler back into the story with this bit, and it was great to finally get a chance to properly explain in-story how the magic system I cooked up for the verse works! Not to mention Victor and Alice's enthusiasm for all of it is just so fun! :D I really enjoyed writing that bit -- a little too much, honestly. I believe I've mentioned a couple of times I had to cut a ton of stuff from the first couple of drafts because I was completely destroying my pacing. I just -- wanted to show them all the magic! XD At least I was able to salvage some of the ideas from the cut stuff for later stories in the verse (namely Fixxler's chapter in "A Wedding, A Wedding, We're Going To Have A Wedding").

(Honorable mention -- Fixing You, Chapter 2: A Whitechapel Wander Gone Wrong -- Victor chokes Jack Splatter, if only because, dark as the moment is, and how badly Victor reacts to it later, having him nearly take Jack down for good is so fricking satisfying. I'm glad I didn't go all the way -- it's not really in-character for this particular Victor -- but considering the whole Victor/Jack Splatter feud was inspired by me getting pissed over Jack basically disappearing from A:MR after nearly killing Alice via the Mermaid fire. . .well, that was a good note to wrap that storyline up on.)

All right, folks, almost done -- next Friday, we wrap it up! And hey, look at that, it’s my birthday next Friday -- perfect timing, huh? :D

[shewhowantsmouseears]

narsaksas replied to your post “going to have a lot of free time this week… anyone give me drabble...”

thebigpalooka I’d love to see you write about your star knight and princess AU you posted art of a while ago!! ��

iii think you might have meant to send that to @thebigpalooka herself? I didn’t make that gorgeous art, and I know literally nothing about that verse save that it exists.

HOWEVER

I am just that bored so I decided to take the concept and see what happened in my brain. It was this.

If anyone asked Mickey an hour ago – or even a minute ago – if he was a serious soldier whose attention could never be diverted, he would have given a resounding “yes!” with all his heart. He had trained for years to be in this position, despite the naysayers who mocked his humble origins and short stature. It hadn't been easy, but he'd risen through the ranks and now was ready to become an official knight of the court. He couldn't have been prouder as he walked through the halls, joined by his fellow brother-in-arms. He would've smiled at them in a silent congratulations, but they all wore serious, stony expressions, and he figured he should too.

And so here he was, on one knee, hearing the Captain of the Guard read aloud their duties and assignments, entailing their destinies, and Mickey was, up to this point, a serious soldier whose attention could never be diverted.

Then the princess walked in and that got shot to hell.

Mickey had only seen her a handful of times, and each one had been by sheer accident. He feared he never made a good impression on her, as each time he saw her he was so wildly enraptured by her beauty he forgot the rest of the world existed, which wasn't useful when you were training in swordplay against another soldier or out riding your horse – somehow both times wound up with him getting a black eye and stuck in a fence. Every time it happened, he told himself next time it wouldn't happen and this would be a lie.

Like now. Oh gods and goddesses above, she really was a beauty, and Mickey was forgetting how to breathe. What was she doing here anyway? She calmly stood near the Captain, who didn't acknowledge her presence, and she looked across the room at all the upcoming knights. Mickey silently pleaded don't look at me don't look at me don't look at me, but of course she looked at him and he felt his heart explode. Her delicate features frowned, trying to pinpoint where she'd seen him before, and then her eyes widened in recognition. Gods she was so cute. Every movement was cute. He wished he was dead. He wished he could be with her. Help.

Much to his growing horror he could hear his own tail wagging against the stone floor, and mentally screamed for it to KNOCK THAT OFF, but he couldn't control it much as he couldn't control his gazing at her, eyes going every tiny feature. How could any living person be this pretty? No wonder she was rarely seen outside the castle, the entire kingdom would surely stop once they saw her.  Nothing would ever get done again! Knights would be out of a job – WAIT, WASN'T HE BEING TURNED INTO A KNIGHT RIGHT NOW?!

His eyes flew to the Captain, who had, it seemed, been trying to get his attention for a couple of seconds now. Mickey's entire face flushed. He offered a shaky smile, feeling himself shrink smaller and smaller under the older man's glare. The Captain crossed his arms, the intensity of his stare hotter than than lava. “I asked you a question, Sir Mouse.”

Oooh no. What did he ask?! Mickey couldn't just ask! Gee, sorry Captain, I was too busy gawkin' like a real fool at the princess, mind repeatin' yourself? Yeah, that'd go over well. His knighthood was over before it even began, and his eyes darted around the room, struggling to think. He found himself looking at the princess again – he couldn't help it! - and then blinked. She seemed to be speaking, yet making no sound, silently wording something, nudging her head towards the Guard.

Con... stell... a...tion... constellation... Oh!

Mickey quickly straightened his back and mustered the most serious expression he could. “Scorpio, sir.”

The Guard frowned, but was willing to move on. “Mortal enemy of the hunter, Orion. Your lineage has shed much blood for the sake of power. However, your morality has shone as brightly as the birth of a new galaxy. There is no doubt where your allegiance lays. The council thought long and hard over this decision... you will be made bodyguard to Princess Minnie.”

“Wh-” Mickey had just barely enough sense to cut him off before finishing the “WHAT” that threatened to escape his mouth. He rapidly looked back and forth between the Guard and the princess – he also caught some looks of the other knights, many of whom were stunned – Minnie herself was smiling kindly, welcoming him without a word. “I... uh... thank you. I m-mean, yes sir, of course sir!”

And here he thought wishing on a star didn't work.

[atruththatyoudeny]

MONTHLY READS | June

Thank you so much to all the amazing authors for sharing your stories with us! »Top 5 stories + 7 more under the cut «

Heading for Limbo

by FullOnLarrie | friends to lovers | friends with benefits | sexuality crisis | 100k Childhood best friends who’ve fallen in and out of touch with each other since Louis’ family moved away when they were thirteen, Harry and Louis find their paths crossing again and again. Each time, no matter how many miles apart or how many years it’s been, it’s as if no time has passed. They fall back into their easy friendship, until life intervenes and sends them on their separate ways once more. When Harry discovers some life-changing things about himself, Louis is there for him, however he needs. But it’s all temporary because Louis has plans that will move his life from New York all the way to L.A. and the distance isn’t the only thing between them. The pieces of their twice broken hearts are scattered from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

Red hands

by reveries_passions for One Direction Big Bang Round 1 | post-war | angst | World War III | enemies to lovers | slow burn | minor character death | injury | guns | violence | mentions of sexual assault | homophobia | PTSD | panic attacks | vague elements of torture | major character injury | 128k “I’ve never told anyone,” Harry murmurs, voice so soft no one else would be able to hear, if it wasn’t just the two of them. “But you’ve told someone,” Louis tells him firmly. “And that’s not gonna fucking happen around here. You don’t speak a word of it, or someone’s going to kill you, and we can’t let that happen.” * A dystopian au in which harry, an ex-soldier who’s escaped from his government run camp, accidentally stumbles across the biggest rebel movement in the country, and louis, one of the rebellion’s mysterious leaders who appears to hate him, seems to simultaneously have an obsession with keeping him alive. or: harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.

To Carry Love

by lovelarry10 & wander723 | Part of the The Mason-Verse series | mpreg | fluff | childbirth | parenthood | 21k Picking up a few years after Piece by Piece, we catch up with the Tomlinson-Styles as they celebrate the arrival of Liam's first child, and make a few choices of their own...

Evocatio

by lapoesieestdanslarue | fluff | 13k Evocatio; a latin word, referring to the method of how an army would try to tempt out a god or goddess from a city in order to ransack it. or; Louis is torn between the dead-end life he'd had in Doncaster and left long ago, and his new life in London. Mostly he's just confused by and halfway in love with the farmer that has long hair and green eyes.

Accidentally On My Way To Loving You

by larrymylove | partying | mistaken identity | Ping-Pong | banter | 5k “So,” H said, “Who are you.” Louis froze. The fork nearly slipped from his hand. So this was it then. The jig was up. Louis would have to admit that he’d stumbled into the wrong party and that, after seeing H, hadn’t wanted to leave. Louis would be kicked out, never to see H again. And who could blame him. He sounded like a total creeper. If the roles had been reversed....Louis wouldn’t blame H for never wanting anything to do with him ever again. Louis arrives at the wrong party, and finds he never wants to leave.

Cool Cats

by Anonymous for Marcel Fic Exchange | hybrids | light angst | fluff | humour | 16k There’s a gorgeous boy sitting there, staring at him. His hair is longish, tucked back by a cloth headband, his eyes are a brilliant blue that make Marcel question if he’s ever actually seen real blue before or just cheap imitations of it. And his lips, thin and pink, are just slightly open, almost as though they’re inviting Marcel’s kiss. “Oh,” the boy breathes in surprise and the tone is enough to wake Marcel from his momentary stupor. He realizes that the boy is staring at his ears and suddenly kisses are the furthest thing from Marcel’s mind. Marcel exhales harshly and pulls out his chair, sinking into it and crossing his arms over his chest. He lifts his chin defiantly. “Alright, let’s have it.” “Have… what?” The boy asks wide-eyed and, fuck, even his voice is beautiful. It’s got this delightful rasp to it that makes Marcel wanna purr. “Whatever jokes or insults you’re gonna say. Let’s just get them over with now and out of the way,” Marcel says. The blue-eyed cutie just sits there, staring. Or Sometimes, Marcel can have nice things.

Learning to Eat

by photo41 | chefs | 28k Celebrity chef Louis Tomlinson has a problem. He’s opening his first restaurant in 9 weeks, and he has yet to hire a pastry chef- apparently people think he’s ‘standoffish’ and ‘rude’ and ‘quick to temper’. Whatever. He ends up saddled with an annoying, happy-go lucky rookie who also happens to be obnoxiously good looking. His tv presenter and pop star best friends only add to the drama, and for fucks sake would everyone please stop quoting Julia Child?! Kitchen AU where Harry helps Louis re-learn how to eat. (METAPHORICALLY)

Delight in Masques

by kassio for One Direction Big Bang Round 1 | urban fantasy | magic | shapeshifting | fae & fairies | 27k Popstar Louis Tomlinson has been pulling one over on the mortals for years. In the five years since he put on a human illusion and tried out for the X Factor, none of them have realised that he’s one of the Fair Folk – a cat shapeshifter, to be precise – and he’d like to keep it that way. When he returns to the X Factor as a guest judge, the last thing he expects is for some half-Siren fool to use magic on the judges. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Harry Styles does. Now Louis has to track down some rogue changeling before he exposes them all. Even worse? Apparently, Harry doesn’t even know what he is. (An urban fantasy adventure, set in the world of - but not crossing over with - the October Daye book series. No need to be familiar with those books; I just want to give credit where it's due on a lot of the worldbuilding.)

London is well worth a mass

by dolphinaaaa | a/b/o | royalty | arranged marriage | 93k Louis is an Omega prince of France. When he is 13, he is betrothed to Harry of England for politics. The wedding will seal the alliance between the two coutries. This is their story.

No Harm, No Fowl

by rainbowslovehl | bad puns | fluff | 6k “He’s here again,” Louis hissed at Niall, his co-worker who was scraping chips into a paper tray and on top of the fish. The guy passing by was distracting but according to Niall, he wasn’t an unusual sight for him. But he could indulge Louis, at least. “He’s just walked past the shop for the second time, probably on his second lap of the neighbourhood. What do you think he wants? What does it mean?” “He’s looking for his lost farm?” Niall supplied before sniggering at his own joke, handing over the order. “Don’t make that face and just stop obsessing over him. He’s just a guy.” Louis finds himself obsessed with figuring out why Harry roams around the neighbourhood in a blue robe. Featuring Geraldine the hen, bad bird puns and too much ketchup.

Until You Remember

by Throwthemflowers | amnesia | mythic elements | 21k Harry lowered his head a moment, then whispered, “It hurts, Lou. If you kissed me, it wouldn’t hurt so much.” Louis set his mug down with a clink on the coffee table. “What wouldn’t hurt so much?” Harry closed his eyes. “I don’t know.” “Fooking bloody hell…” Louis cursed under his breath as he brought his hands to his face and rubbed roughly over his cheekbones. “Harry, do you know what… what…” “What is wrong with me?” Harry finished in a soft, small voice. Louis’s heart dissolved into a mass of pulsing shame. He pulled the man to him and gently pressed his lips to Harry’s forehead. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Harry. You’re kind and sweet and good, and I don’t understand you at all, and I don’t know if I ever will, but there’s nothing wrong with you, darling. Nothing at all.” Louis breathed in his scent, swallowing hard. --Talented London pianist Louis Tomlinson moves to a small coastal town to escape the elites of his job and the mundanity of his life. Through the music of Debussy he finds a charming, wonderful friend in Harry Styles, the fiancé of the town's mayor. Louis thinks his pining is in vain until he discovers that all may not be as it seems....

I See the Ice in His Smile

by photo41 for HL Summer Exchange 2015 | hockey | figure skating | homophobia | 22k In which Louis is on the verge of becoming a professional hockey player, while Harry, (a figure skater who is way above this, thanks) just got roped into being the team's new mascot- leading to flirting, skating showdowns, hockey brawls, misunderstandings, and of course- ice, ice baby.

[chrmatiica-moved]

@whatscanon​ ; veronica  :      [ cover ]  your  muse  covers  my  muse  up  with  a  blanket  /  meme : accepting.

     NIGHT  TIME  WATCH  WAS  DEFINITELY  NOT  HIS  FAVOURITE  THING  TO  DO,      especially  now  that  it  was  getting  colder  and  the  nights  were  longer  that  he  didn’t  even  know  when  it  was  getting  close  to  the  end  because  the  sun  wouldn’t  come  up  till  way  past  6am.      he  was  working  hard  to  prove  their  loyalty  to  the  people  who  had  saved  them,  the  saviors  had  taken  them  when  they  could’ve  easily  killed  them  on  the  side  of  the  road.      he  kind  of  owed  it  to  the  fact  that  veronica  had  always  been  a  great  student  and  lucille  remembered  who  they  were.      they  were  safe  here,  veronica  was  safe  her  and  as  much  as  she  didn’t  know  whether  they  should  completely  trust  everyone  here,  he  was  just  happy  she  had  a  safe  place  to  lay  her  head  at  night,  a  doctor  to  keep  an  eye  on  her  injuries  and  they  weren’t  going  hungry  anymore.      jd  hadn’t  heard  her  approach,  but  he  smiled  as  he  felt  a  blanket  get  wrapped  around  his  shoulders,  looking  up  as  she  sat  next  to  him  on  the  balcony  that  he  was   on  watch,      “      i  thought  you  were  supposed  to  be  restin’,  bein’  out  here  in  the  cold  ain’t  gonna  be  good  for  your  recovery,      ”      jd  pointed  out,  wrapping  an  arm  around  her  shoulder  and  bringing  her  under  the  cover  of  the  blanket  with  him.      he  did  feel  better  with  her  with  him,  he  knew  it  was  unlikely  she  was  sleeping  without  him  anyway,      “      if  you’re  not  happy  here,  we  could  still  go.      grab  some  things  and  leave.      i  just  want  you  to  feel  safe,      ”

[thatslayer]

6 13 14 :D

Questions for Muns of Canon Muses

06 - What is the general opinion of your muse’s fandom about them? Do you agree with it?Oh, I do not agree with it, lol. I think fandom Faith is more wish fulfillment than she is an actual person. For a character who had maybe the greatest redemption arc of almost any character I can think of, on or off BtVS, she sure is boiled down to her pretty hair and naughty bits.

I think the biggest place where the fandom and I part ways is the insistance that Faith is a 'butch lesbian' - I don't think either of those words mean what the fandom thinks they mean.

Like all characters in the Jossverse, Faith's sexuality will always be up in the air (aka, we won't know until we know for sure), but it's really wishful thinking on fanon's part to try and pair her up with every girl that's ever graced an episode of Buffy. Without wondering if she'd actually get along with the ones she's never met, and without a care as to whether a ship with someone she did know would be painful for her or the other girl to have to endure.

The shorter version of this is that I don't ship Fuffy and I write Faith as straight-ish, the way she seemed on the show.

13 - What canon character do you really wish your muse could interact more with?From BtVS? Richard Wilkins III. I swear, Wilkins roleplayers almost never surface and they don't last long when they do. I'd love at least one, canon Wilkins who wasn't trying to turn the Faith & Wilkins thing into a ship.

From elsewhere in TV Land, I've been lamenting my lack of Mikaelsons. Look at me! Completely surrounded by no Elijah. And with Faith being his type and him being hers, what a waste it is, lol. The general cast of The Walking Dead and Fear the Walking Dead. Metatron and other under-sung minors from Supernatural.

14 - What is your ideal AU for your muse?You already know I don't really do AUs, but I will do canon divergence and I think a big, canon-divergent crossover verse is always a favorite. For AUs, I like to do time swaps, set BtVS in an entirely different era and only diverge from canon other than that ( like Wartown, set i the 1940s ). Those types of verses are research-heavy and I love that.

[jediryssabean]

i am free whenever you’re in front of me

listen. i know. it’s been a couple months. but it’s internship time! you know how it goes!

BUT FINALLY IT IS HERE. thank you as always to @baegerbombtastic for reading it over and probably thinking internally “i said it was FINE oh my GOD” multiple times.

but no really, i appreciate it. xoxo

-

Pairing: Eren/Levi Verse: Dead on Arrival (an urban fantasy au) Rating: T Summary: “Fine,” Eren replies. “Okay. Levi, do you want walk through an uncomfortable number of dead people so that we can go to my childhood home for a couple hours to see the sunrise?” Levi can see his jaw working around an expected refusal, just like he can see Hannes’ eyes flickering between them both from where he stands at Eren’s side.

It really is comical—and a little bit sad, the way Eren’s face walls itself up like that.

It is then that Levi says, “yes, I’d love to, thanks for asking.”

Or you can [Read on AO3]!

chapters: i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii

-

(Hot chocolate by the waterfront on a day that all three of them had managed to merge their schedules just enough get off work before sundown. Puget Sound had held the sun afloat, turning itself yellow-gold-orange with the effort of it all—but there’d been pink and purple at its farthest edges, ready for the coming dusk. The semi-constant cloud cover had framed the sun like a cap of painted cotton.

It’d been cold enough to see his own breath.

“what’ve you been up to lately?” Farlan had asked, sniffling once. Winter had never much agreed with him, even before the calendar had told him that it’d arrived. “you’re never home when we call, you don’t leave notes, your phone is always going off in your pocket like you think we don’t notice...”

Isabel had laughed, had thrown it into the breeze coming in from the Sound. It had smelled of saltwater, mingling with the steam rising from the mouth of the cup held between his hands.

Levi had shrugged, had thought of Eren, had cleared his throat. “i’ve been busy. work shit, work shit that you give me, life shit.” Another shrug, and the hot chocolate had been warm beneath his tongue. “you two are the ones that tell me i never get out enough.”

A pause, filled with the whisper of the water, the cawing of seagulls circling the docks just out of sight, the endless chatter of traffic against pavement, deeper in the city. And then, “so, does that mean you’re getting out more?” Isabel had asked him, her eyebrows moving upward on her forehead in a way that asks far too many questions. He should’ve been more choosey with his words. “are you getting out with someone? with other people? i’m assuming you don’t mean hanji, or you would’ve said hanji.”

“you’ve been cultivating a social life and you didn’t even say anything?” Farlan had pointed at him with the lid of his cardboard cup, scattering loose beads of hot chocolate toward the Sound, only to have them pushed back to fall against the concrete. “this is obstruction of justice.”

“stop using your fucking detective words like that’ll scare me.” Even breaths had led to an even reply, hd tasted of hot chocolate and saltwater, had been heavy with the urge to describe, in brief and vague detail, just how much his life had changed recently. But instead he’d said, “use them instead to keep us updated on your body-snatcher case. how’s that going?”

Groaning, loud and put upon, and Farlan had almost thrown his cup into the wind in frustration.

Levi’s social life had been largely forgotten after that, had been swallowed by the lumbering of the police bureaucracy and Farlan’s curses against it. The sun had turned a burnt red in the water by then, and Isabel’s fingers had found their way between Farlan’s own. For moral support, for comfort, to calm him down.

For a moment, Levi could almost feel the other half of the city moving around him as it had started to rise underneath the shadows crawling through the city streets. But the city’s smell hadn’t changed, the seagulls hadn’t faded into something darker, and the traffic had been just as steady in the dusk as it had been in the late afternoon.

But his phone had vibrated in his pocket, and Levi had known that less-than-mortal things were stirring, were calling four o’clock in the afternoon the early morning, were tasting the twilight like others might taste the dawn.

And he’d smiled.)

There is something different about tonight.

The most obvious thing is that Eren is sitting outside the door to the morgue, tucked against the corner of the wall and the three-inch-thick plastic. The tile underneath his backside is probably fucking freezing, because the morgue is always fucking freezing—but he’s sitting there and staring down the hallway, his eyes lit from behind in the nauseating glare of the fluorescent lights. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails and there are no coffee cups in his hands, just like there’s no easy smile on his face, and there’s still the smell of formaldehyde and chilled-corpse hanging around in the space behind him.

Levi is caught between the urge to check his pulse and the urge to push his hair away from his forehead.

The corridor seems to vibrate with the humming of the lights, drawing out the shadows in the ugliest of places, making mildew-stains out of them, letting them crawl across the floor. Levi begins to feel the frequency in the roots of his teeth, in his sinuses. Whatever-this-is feels ominous, or maybe it just feels heavy, or maybe he just doesn’t have the word for what this feels like. It’s just… different.

And underneath everything, Levi can smell Eren’s magic—heather and rainwater and freshly turned earth.

“Eren?” It’s like a bubble pops when Levi speaks, scattering the almost-silence along the walls, lodging it into the grooves along the tile floor. He watches the force of it move through Eren’s body, from his shoulders to his feet, and it’s a little bit like watching a predator shift. It could be the angle that’s making him think that. It could be the way the shadows hover in the hollows of his cheeks, sharpening them to deadly points. It could be a lot of things.

When Eren looks up at him, his pupils are the size of moons.

“Oh shit,” he says, and he blinks slowly, as if his eyelids are heavier than they look. “Hey, Levi.”  

“Hey yourself.” Levi’s knees creak when he crouches down to sit beside him between the corner-space and the door to the morgue, settling his backpack onto the toes of his shoes. Down here Eren’s magic is thick, bleeding into the space around him. Levi’s hairs rise on his arms. “So… what’re you doing down here? Did you run into a black cat in the garage?”

Eren snorts, softer than the rustle of fabric, and he shakes his head. “First of all, that fear is rooted in baseless superstition. Second of all, cats like me just fine, it’s dogs that have an issue with the way I smell. And third—“ His eyes shift out of focus, falling away from Levi’s face to follow something else on the floor, or not on the floor, or… something, “third, the garage reeked of gasoline, and my head’s killing me. I thought I’d wait here instead.” A pause, and the hospital sings to itself around them tunelessly.

Eren lets the quiet fill the hallway without interruption, stretching toward the bulbous shape of the camera at the far end, with no light blinking to show that it’s even on.

A protective measure, probably.

The chill is worming its way through Levi’s skin toward his bones. It makes his teeth grind together, a little, and he can see it lifting goosebumps on Eren’s skin. This close, he can see countless other things—the dirt under Eren’s fingernails is also on his palms and his knuckles, the hair at his temples is stiff with sweat, and the stains on the knees of his jeans are beginning to flake in the way that blood does when it’s been sitting too long.

Levi can’t taste anything except Eren’s magic when he breathes in, worry needling at his stomach, his throat, the inside of his ears. When he swallows, he can feel fresh rainfall in his mouth, unspoiled by the sting of smog or acid or city life. It’s like being smothered, like there are strings of it clinging to his lips, like it’s piling on his shoulders and curling around his collarbones.

Eren picks up a different thread of a different conversation, stretching it taut between his fingertips, before Levi can open his mouth to break the silence.

“So how was work today? Did you do anything cool?” A smile, small and a little gray, pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, you know, being in a giant refrigerator.”

Levi finds himself breathing out a laugh that reminds him of the morgue—cold and stinging of antiseptic, tasting of the powder on his nitrile gloves. It’s as if the air had changed in the space of the corridor, sending the afterimage of the night Eren’d had into a spiral down a floor drain. “Ha-ha. I’ve never heard that joke before. Were you holding onto it while you waited? Was the anticipation killing you?”

The smile widens, carves out Eren’s face, and his eyelashes go on forever. “That is a pretty funny joke.”

Levi’s cheeks go warm as he rolls his eyes, shoving Eren’s shoulder with one hand. His body gives way beneath it, wedging itself farther into the corner with a laugh that echoes, skipping down the entire length of the hallway before making its way back to them, rolling to rest at their feet. “That’s not what I meant, and you fucking know it. Your sense of humor is terrible.”

Laughter, louder and rising upward. Color makes its way back into Eren’s cheeks, smoothing out the edges of his cheekbones. When his eyes come back to Levi’s face, they’re glowing, and his pupils are narrowing into something that makes more sense, that looks like it hurts less, that seems more natural. 

No, wait. It seems more human.

“Come on! That was funny,” Eren says. “That was genuinely funny. You just don’t think it’s funny.”

“Nobody thinks it’s funny. I can bet you six more takeout dinners that Connie doesn’t find it funny, and you eat like a fucking—I don’t know. Like a fucking bear about to hibernate.” It’s getting warmer in the corridor, or maybe the chill just isn’t bothering him anymore, but there’s a dryness to his lips that still feels like worry.

He can’t stop looking at the stains on Eren’s knees.

Indignation, a quiet presence between them, and a tone that feels like petulance. “Using magic burns calories, thanks. And I’m not taking that bet.” There's a pout pulling at his lips. Fucking Christ, he really is as young as he looks, isn't he?

But Levi's response is already out of his mouth before he can comment on Eren's expression, or his mouth, or his age. He doesn't like the way it tastes as it shoves its way past his teeth. “Why, because faeries only take bets that they can win?”

Silence falls again, and this time not even the light fixtures dare to break it.

Moments like this happen, Levi is coming to find. Atmospheric shifts, the bending of light, the constant freeze-and-thaw of things that are safe to say and things that aren’t. Levi watches it happen on Eren’s face, sees the meeting of worlds in his expression, sees the narrowing of his eyes and the jut of his chin and the tightening of the skin beside his eyes.

(“does this mean i’m free to ask whatever questions i want?” Levi had been pushing, then. Had shoved against Eren’s walls with both his hands, the challenge sour in his mouth. He’d spit it out like fruit-seeds, like chunks of gravel, like phlegm. “you were so gracious with that last one.”

Eren’s face had done something similar, then. Levi had seen the—there had been pieces of Eren, sharp and made of stone, mashed together with his softer edges. It had been like watching two storm systems meet over an open horizon.

Levi’s throat had been burning with some kind of shame, as if he’d reached out and slapped Eren across his cheek.)

He expects Eren to brush him off, to ignore his question entirely, to keep talking until whatever tension is in his jaw disappears.

But Eren has never been predictable. Levi wonders when he'll come to terms with that.

“Something like that.” Eren’s voice is made of endless glass, catching the light and throwing it, making his words glitter like stars, or like snow, or like chips of polished rock. “Faerie wagers are a magic all on their own, and they can get people into a lot of trouble.” Eren smiles then, even if it doesn’t exactly look normal. “You more than me. I mean, I could’ve made that ‘six takeout dinners’ work more in my favor. It’s really not specific. Takeout , just like taking food out? I could make that cheap, even if I lost.”

“You,” Levi begins like he’d never said anything that had brought to mind the shattering of statues or the tearing of pages, and he keeps going just the same, “are being an absolute asshole right now and giving away all your magical secrets.”

“Not all of them,” Eren replies. “I did tell you that I love being an enigma. It keeps things interesting.”

Levi scoffs, ready to say something else, to carry this until his spine is frozen solid and his backside has gone completely numb—but Eren keeps going, rolling the shape of his words between his hands like clay in the heartbeat between one thought and the next.

“Really, though,” he says, and his knuckles crack when he flexes his fingers. The dirt beneath Eren’s nails is still distracting, “how was work?”

Levi’s backpack rustles against the toes of his sneakers as he shifts against the wall. “It was interesting, I guess. A legal dispute, but not quite involving the police department yet. A family wanted to know if the death of their business-mogul matriarch was foul-play or not before they start digging through her will.”

Eren laughs, more through his nose than his mouth, and it sticks to his lips. “Ha! Wow, that’s some Clue bullshit, isn’t it? Damn. What did you find out?” His eyebrows arch and his smile goes crooked, and for the first time tonight Eren looks more like… himself. “Unless that’s privileged information. I probably don’t need to know.”

Levi snorts, shaking his head. “What’re you gonna do? Tell your faerie friends about morgue drama? Report me to the ethics board? No one ever sees me with you, so would they really believe you anyway?”

More laughter, absolutely unrestrained. Levi’s lucky, he supposes, that he works in the basement where people rarely go. Surely someone would’ve caught them by now—or maybe it’s less about the basement and more about extra protections. Maybe there’d been a reason for the smell of magic curling around Eren’s shoulders like a second skin.

“Yikes! You’re right. Nobody would believe me, and I’d never tell anyone.” Eren stretches out his legs in front of him, and the stains on his knees crack with the motion, splitting into microcontinents against the denim. “Besides, where would I get my gossip and thrills then? There’s only so long you can make charms before your brain starts to go numb.”

The hallway tumbles when Levi rolls his eyes. “You’re trying to pretend you’re boring, and it’s not working.”

Eren nudges him, his elbow against Levi’s, and his smile is small and soft. “I learned it from you, obviously.”

“Shut up,” Levi tells him. “God. Whatever. How’s your work been? You’re looking a little too filthy to’ve been on charm duty all night. Did you get in a scuffle with a goblin?”

“You’re just making shit up,” Eren says, and his eyes move away from Levi’s face, their color going dull beneath… something. Curtains. Shutters. Walls. “Goblins always travel in packs. I’d never scuffle with just one goblin.”

This is a redirect. Tangentially relevant, but only holding itself together with threads, with spider silk, with halves of halves of hair. Levi has become very familiar with how these maneuvers feel, how they move against his skin, how they turn into rivers large enough for the original question to get lost in—just like he’s become very familiar with the act of swimming against the current.

“Of course. My mistake,” Levi replies, and his fingertips feel cold when he presses them against one another. “Did you scuffle with a pack of goblins? A horde, maybe? Or did you trip on your way across the street to get here?”

The air around them pops as if it’s alive with energy, with static, with something. And the only thing that comes out of Eren’s mouth is, “no.”

It breathes against the floor like mist, trying to disappear before it can turn into anything else, before it can form into a sentence or an explanation. It leaves footprints down the hall that wash away when the air conditioning rumbles to life, the aluminum tubing rattling softly down the hallway. Nothing else follows it, and Eren’s lips thin, chapped skin brushing against chapped skin in a way that has to be uncomfortable.

The cold is more apparent when it’s quiet like this. It’s surprising that Levi doesn’t see his breath when he says, “then what happened to you? Seems to me that you’re not…” It’s a struggle, finding the word that he needs. The one that he ends up settling for is, “yourself.”

Eren blinks, then. He blinks, and his lips twist, and the skin beside his eyes wrinkles. Shadows flicker beside the edges of his pupils, and the color in his cheeks washes out just enough to make his skin look blue or gray or—

“Levi,” Eren says, and his voice is a wire pulled tight, threatening to split apart at the center, “I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Levi doesn’t know how to respond to that with anything other than silence.

It’s an explanation in and of itself, really. It’s the reason behind the atmosphere, the driving force behind the thick film of difference that’s splayed upon the walls and Eren’s features and his posture. It’s alarming enough to give rise to ice chips in his lungs, to make them gather against his sternum.

Eren begins to pick at the dirt beneath his fingernails. The sound doesn’t even make it halfway down the corridor before it fades into nothing.

That’s what probably makes it seem so jarring when Eren clears his throat. “I didn’t bring coffee today, so I should make it up to you,” he says. The skin underneath his left thumbnail is clean by then. “I can’t say that I forgot, or anything, but you know how it gets when you’re in a rush somewhere. I guess I would’ve rather been empty-handed than late.”

“Eren,” Levi’s tone feels like a warning in his mouth, scalding his hard palate. Or—hm. Maybe it tastes more like shame, a bitter weight on his tongue. He’s got a habit of stepping in shit when he speaks, and he wishes that he could just fucking learn to stop already. “I really don’t give a shit about the coffee.”

“Okay,” and Eren’s tone is lighter, this time. Levi can’t tell if he’s faking it or not, but his eyes are shining, even through whatever-it-is that’s happening inside them. “Rephrase. We should do something. Let me take you somewhere.”

Levi doesn’t know what this is, this thing growing beneath his ribs. Eren’s smile softens, pulls at the corners of his eyes, and Levi’s bones crack beneath the weight of it, squeezing his lungs, making his fingers feel like liquid despite the chill.

Eren doesn’t look human in lighting like this, with the way it cuts his jaw, his chin, his fucking cheekbones—but he doesn’t look entirely inhuman either, and Levi finds himself noticing it more often lately. He’d seen it in the library, had caught it on the street, when his whole body had been alive with laughter and the thrill of being almost-caught.

There’s something about the way the shadows of his magic waver, a little, beneath the weight of a smile like this one, though—the way the wrinkles beside his eyes lose their tension. There are so many things that happen on Eren’s face at any given time, and all of them are just this side of too-beautiful.

Levi thinks he wants to kiss him.

His brain bounces against that thought, the marrow of his bones going through some sort of ice-cold whiplash as his body tries to compensate for the force of it—going from concern to humor to this—and it makes his throat too dry to swallow properly. His toes curl inside the fabric of his shoes, and when he speaks it’s as if there’s desert sand scraping between his teeth.

“Does that mean you have somewhere in mind?” he says, and his backpack shifts again on the toes of his sneakers. The zippers rattle like wind chimes.

A hint of a fragment of humor, tucked at one corner of Eren’s lips. It seems to make his skin glow, as if he’s lit from inside. “Have you ever wanted to see a Welsh sunrise?”

Levi snorts, even as the breath gets squeezed from his lungs. “Is this the part where you tell me that Seattle sunrises are strikingly similar, and you suggest we go see one from, I don’t know, a mountaintop or something? Isn’t sunrise practically past your bedtime?” He can feel his eyebrows arch in his forehead as the barely-there amusement moves across his face like a—like a fucking shooting star.

“I mean, I guess technically it’s past my bedtime,” Eren tells him. “But that’s not the point, because this is actually the part where I tell you that we’re going to Wales.”

Laughter bursts from Levi’s throat, an unstoppable force. This is so—it’s unbe-fucking-lievable. Bringing stars to life is one thing. Casting memory spells and crafting sleeping charms is something else. But going from one side of the globe to the other? That’s unreal. It’s unreal, incredible, impossible. He’s collected a lot of poetry in his lifetime—from adventures to epics to faerie rhymes. He’s ended up reading even more than he’s owned, and he’s never heard of anything quite like this.

Then again, he supposes, if anyone could promise transatlantic travel and mean it, it’d be Eren.

“You’re serious?” Levi says, the too-loud echo of his disbelief still sliding down the walls in a liquid pattern. “You’re completely serious.”

“Absolutely,” Eren replies, and his clothes rustle as he pushes himself upright, the red-brown stains on his knees flaking as he does. Handprints shift against the denim on his thighs, the same dark color as the mess on his knees.

When Eren offers out a hand for Levi to take, his palm is completely clean.

Eren’s grip is solid as he pulls Levi to his feet, already lifting Levi’s work-bag with his free hand to hold it within reach. Levi can feel his legs creak as he shifts his weight between them, can feel his spine trying to stretch itself out from where he’d been sitting too long against the absolutely freezing tile. It’s only when Levi rolls his shoulders, loosening the tension in his neck, that Eren taps his fingers against Levi’s own sternum with that fucking half-smile still hanging from his lips.

“You’re going to need to stand back for your own safety, sir,” Eren says, and fuck if there isn’t something impish flirting with the arch of his eyebrows. “Keep your hands and feet attached to your body at all times.”

Levi snorts, taking three steps backward and crossing his arms loosely over his chest as Eren makes his way toward the plastic-and-rubber doors that separate the hallway from the morgue. He can feel goosebumps rising underneath the weight of his coat, the fabric doing nothing to eat through the chill of the freshly-dead. Or maybe that’s just the admiration, the thrill of watching magic in action. Something like that.

Eren braces one hand on the metal doorframe, tapping out a slow pattern with one knuckle of the other against the almost-hollow plastic of the doors. His voice is low and melodic, but the words are unintelligible at this volume. The only thing Levi knows about this spell is that it’s making his stomach knot, making his mouth go dry, makes... the hallway seem almost warm.

The fluorescent lights flicker as the smell of heather and rainfall rise up from the tile floor, and the atmosphere buzzes with... everything. Levi’s ears pop underneath its pressure, and a breeze pulls at his clothes with all the force of a human hand. His backpack shifts against his spine as he shifts his weight to keep himself solidly on his feet.

And then the doors of the morgue rush inward, their shape clapping against the doorframe hard enough that Levi’s almost surprised that they don’t fall from their hinges.

What’s on the other side of those doors is definitely not the morgue.

Eren takes half-a-step back, out of the reach of shadows that look like they’re writhing just outside the reach of the corridor’s lights. Tendrils of them cling to the edges of the doors, where they would be pushing through thick strips of plastic if they’d been opening into the morgue like they’d been supposed to. The impression of lights, flickering in the shadows’ depths, make Levi’s eyes ache, make his sinuses feel as if there’s something heavy pooling inside them.

Levi opens his mouth to ask a question—to wonder out loud what the fuck is in his morgue, to ask what the point of this particular show of magic is, to get information as to how this shit manifested so quickly when his workspace had been entirely clean almost half-an-hour ago.

But all the things he’d wanted to know turn to dust on his tongue as a man steps out of the darkness and into the hallway proper. There’s... nothing sharp about him. He’s made entirely of human lines, his pupils the width of a mortal man’s, the stubble stretching from the hollows of his cheeks to the curve of his chin looking absolutely and completely normal. The only thing of note about him at all is the tattoo of a single dark feather, curling around the back of his left ear and trailing down his hairline, its shaft disappearing beneath the collar of a well-worn coat.

None of the shifting shadows are clinging to him. At all.

More questions, all of them fighting for attention behind Levi’s teeth—except the man is already laughing, already speaking loudly with an accent that’s not-at-all like Eren’s own, already pulling Eren into a hug with one hand.

“Holy shit, look at you,” the man says, ruffling Eren’s hair before the embrace is even over. “You’ve gotten so fucking tall, you know that kid?” He keeps one hand on Eren’s elbow as he pulls out of his, the crow’s feet by his eyes bending with good humor—ages of good humor, though he can’t be much older than his late forties, maybe. “You’re a giant. Eren fucking Jaeger, all grown up.”

Eren’s hair is a goddamn mess as the unidentified man ruffles his hair for the second time, and Levi can see that he’s probably grimacing, even though he can’t see any part of his face from this angle.

“Can you stop that, please? You’re embarrassing me.” Eren steps away from the man who isn’t letting go of his arm, turning so that Levi has a now-unimpeded view of them both.

“Embarrassing?” A pause, and Levi finds himself meeting blue eyes the color of some washed-out photograph of the ocean in the middle of the day. He could say something here, if his brain could cacth up to the rest of this situation—to the shadows and the mysterious maybe-mortal man. “Ah. And who’s this?”

Beneath the smell of Eren’s magic, Levi can smell something else. Cedar-wood incense and rose water.

“This,” Eren says, exasperation pulling his skin tight across his cheeks, “is Levi. He’s the doctor whose morgue you literally just walked out of. He’s a friend of mine.”

“A morgue?” Eyebrows, arching high toward a sandy-blonde hairline. “What are you doing in a morgue?”

Eren smiles, then, and it loosens something in his eyes. It almost looks easy. “You’d be surprised.” He sniffs once, rubbing at his nose before he continues, his attention falling onto Levi in a way that makes his lungs flutter with the reminder that they’re supposed to be used. “Levi, this is Hannes. He was my babysitter.”

“He makes it sound a lot less glamorous than it really was, I promise.” He can place is accent, almost. Hannes’. It’s not French, and it’s not quite Slavic, so—German, maybe? Levi can’t be sure. “He got into a lot of mischief when he was really little. He was curious little bear.”

“I did not, and I wasn’t.” Eren’s nose wrinkles, his eyebrows furrowing just enough to make his eyes look darker. It might be intimidating, somehow, if his cheeks weren’t pink with sheepishness. “But I didn’t actually ask you here just to introduce you Levi. I called for a favor.”

“That’s what happens when kids grow up, they only call when they need something.” Levi doesn’t know who Hannes is talking to, but there’s a flare for the dramatic in him somewhere. Surely it has to be for someone’s benefit. “But what did you need?”

Hannes has to look up, just slightly, to meet Eren’s eyes when he turns his head back to face him. It makes Levi wonder if this must be weird for someone that Eren had called his babysitter. It makes him wonder when they’d spoken last. “I’d like you to take us to Wales for a couple hours,” Eren tells him. “The sunrise is beautiful this time of year.”

A slow blink, still human-looking enough that Levi can’t quite call it feline. “You want me to take you to Wales.” Hannes’ glance feels like a flicker of dew against Levi’s cheek before his eyes are already back on Eren’s face. “Both of you?”

Eren nods, just as slowly as Hannes’ blink at been. The fluidity of the movement looks a little less human on him. “Yeah. Both of us. He’s never seen it, and it’s something that everyone should be allowed to look at once.”

Hannes lifts a hand to his mouth, the length of his index finger pressed against the space between his lower lip and the beginning of his chin. “Does your mother know that you’re planning to step on her soil for your adventure, little bear?”

Ah, a familiar feeling in the pause that stretches between them—ice across the surface of a lake, stretching from the shoreline to the center with no discernable movement beneath it. And then, “are you going to tell her?”

Hannes’ mouth moves for an answer. His lips part, and his chest inflates with whatever might come out of it. But this time, Levi breaks into the conversation first, the pieces of all the things he’d had to say falling to the tile floor, pushed from between his lips by the question already leaping from his tongue.

“Does she need to know?” Levi asks, and he can feel his eyebrows rising in a way that has to look incredulous.

For a second, the only sound in the hallway is the humming of the lightbulbs. Not even the shadows still shifting inside the morgue—or not-the-morgue—have nothing to add to the lack of noise. But then Hannes laughs, just as loudly as he had when he’d seen Eren standing in the doorway, and it really is a fucking blessing that the morgue is located so far beneath the hospital proper. There’s been so much noise down here tonight already.

“I can see why you’re a friend of Eren’s!” Hannes scatters his words like coins, letting them clatter wherever they land. Some of them sound heavier than others—particularly when he continues by saying, “are you sure that you want to make the walk?”

It feels like a challenge, even if it isn’t one. Levi knows it isn’t one. And yet his teeth grind together and his jaw sets, and he can feel stubbornness pushing rods through the center of his bones. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“You’re human, right?” Hannes lifts one of his eyebrows, cocking out one hip in a way that reminds Levi so much of Eren, even as Eren himself is covering his eyes with one hand. The question isn’t left in the air long enough for Levi to answer before Hannes is already pushing forward, “right. Travelling through Doorways isn’t something that mankind just does. We’ll be walking Between—and mortal eyes weren’t meant to see that.”

so what? is the response already crawling its way up Levi’s throat. But Eren takes the conversation between two fingers, and for the first time since Levi had met him, his is the softest voice present.

“You know the story of Eurydice,” he says, and it’s not a question. “This would be... similar but different. You’d have to keep your eyes closed and hold onto my hand so that you don’t get lost, or trip over anything or...” He trails off, dropping his hand from his eyes, and his lips are pressed thin. He doesn’t keep speaking.

Levi sighs, and it tastes like Eren’s magic. Tension that he hadn’t even felt gathering bleeds out from his shoulders. When he speaks, it isn’t to Hannes—if he can have a conversation without Levi being involved, well, the reverse is just as true. “I can see why you didn’t open with that originally, but you probably should’ve explained what we were going to do.”

Eren’s skin goes gray, a little, the color bleeding out of his cheeks. “It’s not exactly a selling point. It’s also not very—“ his lips twist and his eyes drop to the floor. “I can’t open Doorways myself. I need someone else to—“ The same expression, for the second time, and then nothing.

“Eren,” Levi says, “just ask me again. Give me the uncensored version of what we’re going to do tonight.” Silence, stony and filled with the humming of the lights and the trailing edges of rainwater and heather and soil. “You keep asking me to trust you. Return the favor, and ask me again.”

A sudden influx of color back into Eren’s face, turning his cheeks dark. It’s funny, really. He looks embarrassed, only this time he’d done it to himself, more-or-less.

“Fine,” Eren replies. “Okay. Levi, do you want walk through an uncomfortable number of dead people so that we can go to my childhood home for a couple hours to see the sunrise?” Levi can see his jaw working around an expected refusal, just like he can see Hannes’ eyes flickering between them both from where he stands at Eren’s side.

It really is comical—and a little bit sad, the way Eren’s face walls itself up like that.

It is then that Levi says, “yes, I’d love to, thanks for asking.”

What’s funnier, of course, is what happens when Eren’s surprised—and besides, it’s only fair that Levi return that favor, in pieces. He doesn’t think he’ll ever really be able to outdo Eren when it comes to the unexpected. But this face? The way Eren’s eyebrows are arching and his face just relaxes, the way his cheeks can’t seem to decide just how deep they want their color to go, the way his eyes can’t seem to settle anywhere on Levi’s face? That’s good enough, he thinks.

Hannes’ palm against Eren’s shoulder breaks the chatter of the hospital’s electrical equipment, and the smile on his face deepens the furrows by his mouth, his eyes, across the bridge of his nose.

“Kid,” Hannes says, shifting his arm to hold Eren’s neck in the crook of his elbow, even as he’s met with half-murmured swears, “I think I like him.”

Eren shoves him away as he makes a face, stepping just out of reach, smoothing out his clothes with one hand. He shakes out his hair in an attempt to settle it, to fix the admiration that it had been through. It doesn’t help.

He turns to Levi with an open hand, looking totally abashed—fucking embarrassed, like he can’t believe any of the exchanges just took place in the middle of the hallway in a hospital basement. But his eyes are shining, and there’s still a fraction of a piece of a smile holding tightly to his lips.

“Does that mean you’re ready?” Eren asks. Levi watches the way his mouth works his way around the words as he says them, watches the way his eyelashes kiss the bruise-colored smudges beneath his eyes. “It really is uncomfortable. And you really can’t open your eyes.”

Concern, soft in the hollows beneath Eren’s cheekbones.

Levi’s pretty sure he still wants to kiss him.

(“we’re running for the door,” Eren had told him, had smelled so strongly of his own magic, and his eyes had been catching the planetarium light like the stars they’d been in another life. His voice had been threatening to buckle beneath barely-contained laughter. “hold your breath.” His fingers had been warm, and solid, and callused.

Levi’s read poems like this, over the course of his life—read poems and heard stories about mysterious and magical strangers that bewitch mortal souls. They’ve been written in religious texts and novels, passed through oral traditions and painted on murals.

He’d known then, just like he knows now, how tales like this often end.)

“I’m ready, I won’t open my eyes, and you’re taking your sweet fucking time,” Levi replies, and Eren laughs in a way that brings to mind fog on the surface of Puget Sound, curling between the support pillars of different piers along the city’s coast. It raises the hairs at the back of Levi’s neck, like everything else Eren does when his voice looks like that, when his face looks like that, when he looks at Levi like that.

He doesn’t kiss him in this hallway, with the mortal-looking stranger watching them both.

But he does take Eren’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and the fluorescent lights hum softly as they step into the shadows where the morgue should’ve been.

-

(Franz’s blood had still been flaking from his knees as they’d walked through the Doorway between life and its after. The shadows had whispered, had brushed over Eren’s body like worn cotton, had opened up into a barely-visible pathway made of cobblestones.

Thick branches had poised themselves in a canopy, too tightly woven to let through any in any light. Ravens and turtledoves murmured together, somewhere out of Eren’s line of sight—but that wasn’t saying much. There hadn’t been a whole lot within his line of sight to begin with, except the vague shapes that hurt his eyes to look at, the curve of Hannes’ shoulders, and the shape of Franz Kefka, holding Eren’s bicep with a rigid grip.

Levi’s hand had been shaking in Eren’s own.

The shadows in front of them had trembled when Hannes turned his head to speak, their movement making Eren’s head swim, rattling against the city-noise beating against the inside of his skull. “you don’t look very well, kiddo,” he’d said, and it had sounded as if his voice had been coming from far away, from the mouth of a tunnel, from behind a too-thick wall. “been firing all pistons lately?”

Eren had squeezed Levi’s hand, once. He’d heard Franz’s labored breathing beside him, bubbling softly through the hole in his chest. He’d been able to feel the way his blood had been congealing on his own knees, had been able to hear the cracked-ice laughter of the Sluagh.

He’d been able to taste his own blood in his mouth, and had wiped at his nose with his thumb.

“you know what they say,” Eren had replied, his words almost getting lost in the chatter of too-many ravens, still tucked away in the dark. “no rest for the wicked, and all of that shit.”

He’d been rewarded with no laughter, and if there’d been a sigh it had been lost in the ambient noises of the path they’d chosen—whispered last words and faded memories, vestiges of the dead as they made their way into the world that comes after. More than memories lived in that place.

A child’s laughter, somewhere—familiar. Heather and rainwater—and then the taste of river-mud and reeds. The pop of bubbles as they’d rose to the surface. The flicker of green eyes in a break between the shadows, the glimmer of water clinging to the eyelashes there, mud beneath fingernails stuck to the soles of shoes.

And beneath all of that, the smell of his mother’s magic—cedar wood incense and rose water.

“we’re almost there,” Eren had said, keeping his eyes forward even as he’d been speaking over his shoulder, had raised his voice to make himself heard over the rasp of Franz’s breathing. “you okay?”

“please tell me that this shit will be easier on the return trip,” Levi had replied. He’d spoken softly, had almost thrown his voice onto the cobblestones to hide against the moss there. His eyes had been closed, squeezed shut, and Eren had only barely been able to see the dead curling around his shoulders like mist.

“this shit will be easier on the return trip.”

A sigh had rattled Levi’s shoulders, even if Eren had been unable to hear it. “you mean that?”

Eren had held Levi’s fingers, then. He’d squeezed them tightly as he’d watched Hannes turn his head to eavesdrop. “do you want me to swear, like, an oath or something? i think I’ve got enough juice for that. ‘if I’m a liar, turn me into a toad,’ or... whatever.”

Laughter, and it had been surprising. “no,” Levi had told him, and Eren had been sure he had no idea what that kind of thing did to him. It felt like someone had been squeezing his heart between two hands. “you’re always saying what a shit liar you are.”

“i am,” Eren had said, and the cobblestones had begun to turn into grass under the soles of his shoes.

“and i trust you.”

Hannes’ shape had fleshed out, had become outlined in the undecided dimness of late-night-early-morning. Eren had seen the shadows beginning to break around him, had been almost able to catch the smell of the moorlands, underneath the pathways of the dead.

“yeah.” Eren’s voice was an obstruction in his throat, and it had tasted of the blood in his nose. “i know you do.”)

God above, he’s missed this fucking place.

The cemetery at the cathedral smells like the rest of town—like moorland and recent rain, like the lingering weight of gasoline and winter settling in, like old brick and the rivers on either one of its ends. It’s fucking nostalgic, reeks of childhood memories, and even with Seattle beating its rhythm at the back of his skull, he can feel the magic here. Sure, it isn’t his own, and he’s not even sure he could use it, now that it’s been so long, but he can feel it, and it makes his chest ache.

It also makes him a little bit nauseous.

“You’re good to open your eyes,” Eren’s breath comes out white when he speaks, and his free hand trembles as he wipes at a line of blood that keeps trying to leak from his nose.

“A cemetery,” Levi says from his place at Eren’s shoulder, and he sounds entirely unimpressed with where they’d ended up. But the chill is already bringing color back into his cheeks, and his hand only shaking a little within the grip of Eren’s own from the—the walk they’d just taken. “We’re in a cemetery.”

“We started in a morgue,” Eren replies. “Doorways like this connect one place where dead people are to another. It’s how gravekeepers get around.” He nods at Hannes in front of them, lounging against a headstone that might be as old as he is, moss clinging to its base. “That’s, uh—he’s one. They... collect the dead. Help them move on.”

“So they’re like the Grim Reaper, but multiplied.” Eren’s heard this tone before. It’s the calm before the storm—the kind prefaced by the noise of the Hunt, or the whisper of water leaking from a broken pipe and onto shattered concrete, or the absolute freezing feeling of an autopsy table against the naked skin of his backside.

“And better dressed.” Hannes looks up at them both, his eyes looking some weird, incandescent orange-yellow from the lights at the edges of the graveyard’s wall. It’s unsettling, even when Eren knows they’re blue. “But don’t you youngsters have a sunrise you’re waiting for? A night on the town to experience? Trouble to inevitably get me in?”

“Ha-ha.” His own footsteps are silent against the stairs, though Levi’s are just half-a-sigh louder as he follows behind him, their hands still linked. Eren doesn’t know who’s supposed to let go first. He’s never actually led someone through a Door before. “You’re funny. We’ll meet you back here just after sun-up?”

There are questions crowding Hannes expressions, and they look nothing like the questions Levi asks him. There’s too much worry there from too long ago, and there’s catching up he wants to do, and all of it is digging into Eren’s skin with half-bitten nails, their jagged edges looking for purchase.

It’d been risky to do this. He’d known that going in. Hannes had always had a place at his mother’s ear, just like he also knew a shitload of Eren’s history, and all his baby stories, and all the—everything. It’s a test, maybe. Eren’s testing himself, and he’s testing Hannes, and he’s testing... Levi?

No. That isn’t what he’s doing.

He’s sharing.

His family and the place he grew up. The views from his childhood, the way this town smells, the side streets and the landmarks, the Welsh-written streetsigns and the—rivers.

Feels more like a romantic comedy when he puts it like that.

“I’ll be here,” Hannes says into the silence that had stretched just a little bit too long. “Try not to get carried away. I know how kids today can be when they have a night off.” A smile pulls at his stubble, nudges his eyebrows up his forehead like there’s something hidden in what he’s saying, and this feels like something that could’ve happened in any number of novels that he’d read. Over dinner, maybe. With less ravens and more—whatever. He doesn’t know. More something.

The ground is somewhere between hard-and-soft beneath their feet as they cross the cemetery-proper, weaving between cross-shaped headstones and polished stone nameplates. The grass hisses with the sharp edges of winter frost every step of the way.

Levi’s fingers are still a vice on his own. They’ve gone numb.

Neither of them say anything as they reach the edge of the churchyard itself, the single-lane road stretching past their feet and into the town itself, almost-leafless trees standing to either side of the street itself. It’s a little bit atmospheric, this early in the morning. Smells like ancient magic, rising from the dirt, mingling with the newer, electric hum of modernity sitting in the powerlines and on roadways, sleeping in houses or working a restaurant.

And so Eren decides to ruin the atmosphere by speaking.

“So,” he says, a breeze whispering through empty boughs as it dances down the street, “I’m sorry about the... walk. The... Door. The...”

“Shut up.” Eren hadn’t thought that Levi’s grip could get much tighter, and is proven wrong. “I was just—surprised. I didn’t expect—“ Words in the shape of fog, a sharp exhale that looks like steam, and then, “the description was a little vague. I guess I just—“ Another pause, this time emphasized by thinning lips. “What do you hear, when you walk through a—a Door?”

Ivy glitters with frost across the road, clinging to a stone wall of the same make as the one at their backs. Eren keeps his eyes there when he replies, “that’s a complicated question.”

“‘Complicated’ like you don’t want to tell me?” It’s not an accusation per se—it’s like Levi’s waiting to decide if it’s an accusation or not. Eren hadn’t known there was a tone for that. “Or ‘complicated’ like I’d need a degree in—that.”

Eren snorts, and he can feel what’s left of his nosebleed freeze inside his nostrils. “It’s complicated like it’s complicated. The—we literally walked through dead people. What you hear depends on who’s haunting you at the time. If it’s nobody, it’s white noise, or ambient shit. Like—wind through tree branches. Crows or something cawing from some indeterminate distance. Rain on cobblestones.” It’s too cold for his palms to sweat, but he can feel them trying. “What’d you hear?”

Another breeze, and then silence settles again. It’s quiet enough that Eren can almost hear the dryads snoring beneath the bark of their trees. A Barghest howls, out in the moors somewhere, and another one answers—and another one. The sounds raise goosebumps under the collar of his jacket as they fade into... music? Into—laughter, out in the darkness and far away.

Well, he supposes, it is the faerie time of year. He’d just forgotten what rural fae were like.

Eren clears his throat to break the stalemate between the wind and the distant celebration of the fae. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t’ve asked. That was—it’s different for everybody, is what I mean—“

“Flatlines.” Levi interrupts him, and it’s quick enough that it hits the asphalt like he’d spit it there, breaking into pieces like glass. “Flatlines, like on heart monitors? Crash carts. The high-pitched whine of one charging. Someone was crying, but I—“ The ivy trembles as the nighttime drags its fingers through the leaves, and Eren watches it. “You said that—you said the return trip would be easier.”

Despite their grip, Levi’s fingers are pliant enough when Eren squeezes them gently. “Yeah. You should just hear pretty standard ‘meditation sounds’ on the way back. Going through a Door keeps the dead firmly where they belong.” Eren hums, lifting his gaze from the ivy to the stars, pinned to the sky like silver dust. Fuck, he’d forgotten that there’d been so many. “Ghosts usually hang around when they feel like they’re leaving someone behind without... support? Gratitude? I don’t know. Sounds like you were haunted.”

He thinks of the specters he’d seen curling around Levi’s body, even obscured by the Otherworld’s shadows as they’d been. They’d wanted to say something—but then, the dead always leave something unsaid.

(Tonight had, in the simplest of terms, been fucking rough.

Franz’s blood had been congealing on Eren’s knees, leaking from any number of wounds. His chest had been pulled open, a hole carved out in his ribcage. His eyes had been open and staring at nothing, and his skin had been white enough that his veins had looked like scripture against it.

Blood had been caked on his fingers, too. Had gotten beneath his fingernails as he’d checked for a pulse.

It had made him want to vomit, the way it’d felt almost like gel by then.

But he didn’t.)

“Did you know that?” Levi sounds a little bit incredulous, and Eren can almost trace the way his nose must be wrinkling one particular line of stars. “That I was being haunted by shit, and you didn’t tell me?”

Eren’s lips are chapped when he rolls them over his teeth, but he smiles anyway. “Nah, didn’t know for sure. I can’t see dead people. I didn’t get blessed with that skill. Can’t fucking raise the dead either.” A wisp of a cloud blurs a fraction of the stars in his field of vision as it makes its way to the—east? Toward the sun. “But I could’ve guessed, yeah. You were a surgeon.”

“So, what, you decided that we’d go to Wales for a cleanse?” Ah. Yeah, that’s definitely incredulity, and definitely an accusation. And it’s just a little bit unwarranted, really. Levi has a habit of making Eren out to be far kinder than he is, in some ways.

“No,” Eren tells him. “I decided to go to Wales because you took me to—you showed me where you—“ It’s difficult to describe what Levi had shown him in a way that makes sense. Eren can already feel himself failing. “Well, anyway, we live in your hometown, and I thought that—I—“ Shit, his head hurts, and he can feel his sinuses getting ready to leak blood again, and for a second the sky sways, even though he’s standing completely still. “I wasn’t actually thinking, probably. Call it whimsy. The exorcism was just a bonus. But congratulations, you’ll probably sleep even better, charm-free.”

In the second-third-fourth silence that follows, Eren wonders if Hannes might be eavesdropping on them from the graveyard at their backs. And just as quickly he decides he doesn’t care overmuch if he is. So what? He already knew they were coming to Wales, and the only thing Eren had done was present as an inarticulate tool. Nothing new.

The branches rattle and Levi’s grip eases on Eren’s fingers, but he doesn’t let them go.

“You sure as shit don’t give yourself a lot of credit,” Levi says.

“Maybe you just give me too much.” How can their hands be as warm as they are when it’s this fucking cold? “But did you want to actually start walking in the direction of the moors, or did you just want to stand, like, ten meters from where we got dropped off?”

Levi’s laughter is like—a firework. A cannon. The—the breathless sound of tires on asphalt that’s been layered over by fresh rain. Or—Eren doesn’t know. But he lets go of Eren’s hand to press his fingers to his mouth, muffling anything else with them, digging his teeth into his lower lip with a snort.

He’s gorgeous, Eren thinks. Some kind of stunning. The kind of beautiful that doesn’t feel toxic when it’s touched.

The human kind of extraordinary that his mom had told him stories about.

(“humankind is beautiful,” she’d said, and she hadn’t even known she’d think herself a liar one day. Her finger had been soft against his cheek. “like you.”)

“Okay, fine. Let’s see what this is all about,” Levi says, his cheeks pink but colored like grapefruit with the streetlight positioned as it is. “Lead the way.” The stormclouds of his eyes look backlit by moonlight when he smiles, tucking his hands back into the pockets of his coat. “I get to keep my eyes open for the tour part, right?”

“You think I’m not funny, but you ask me that?” Eren’s legs feel stiff as he starts walking toward the intersection down the street, but he thinks he can feel laughter somewhere in his body. Maybe in the warmth of his palms. “But yes, you get to keep your eyes open. Otherwise you’ll miss all the pointing that I’ll be doing for your benefit.”

There’s still a wan-ness to Levi’s cheeks as he smiles, and there are still shadows beneath his eyes, but his shoulders seem lighter when he says, “right. So what’ve we got to the left and right?”

Eren gestures with a flourish of his wrist, holding his hand, palm-up, to the right. “Well, to the right we have the River Clwyd way, way over there, and we’ll be heading that way last. To our left, past all these buildings and shit, we have the River Elwy, which is what this place is named for.”

The street is empty as they take their left, and Levi hums. It carries far in the almost-stillness. “Tell me the name of this place again.”

“Llanelwy. Church on the River Elwy. Saint Asaph in the, you know, conqueror’s tongue.”

“Ha.” Levi’s fingers brush against the stone façade of buildings in the cathedral’s style, a sigh in the sporadically-broken dark. “It’s got two Ls though. You say ‘chan-elway.’”

“Nope.” Eren’s feet are moving in a way that doesn’t feel natural here. It’s all city-pulse and the push-pull of the tide, all noise and the end of academic semesters, all Sluagh and the—and the coming winter solstice. “I say Llanelwy, you just can’t make that sound with your mouth because you weren’t taught. You can say Saint Asaph, if you want.”

Eren knows that exact expression—the set of Levi’s jaw and the almost-scathing glace. It’s the look that said ‘i don’t want to forget anything,’ the one that demanded answers. “No. I’ll figure it out, thanks.” He scuffs the heel of one shoe against the sidewalk, shifting the weight of his backpack on his shoulders. “So you were born here? Seems kind of small for a personality like yours.”

He can taste the hint of saltwater, can feel it hitting the back of his tongue to mingle with—with riverwater. With riverwater and mud and the last swell of air in his—“Technically, I was born one town over in Bodelwyddan, because the hospital’s there, but more-or-less this is it.”

It’s just this side of hilarious when Levi’s eyebrows arch as he tries to figure out how to spell whatever it is that had come out of Eren’s mouth. It’s funnier still to watch him work his mouth around the syllables. “It’s fucking quiet. I thought this was one of those places that was supernatural central, where all the fae stories come from.”

The smell of Indian takeaway rises from up the street, one of the only places open so early, before the sun has the opportunity to even get a leg up on the stars. Eren doesn’t remember if it had been there when he was younger or not. Probably not. His stomach growls anyway.

“It is where the stories come from, yeah,” Eren says. “Because of that, smaller towns tend to mind their own business, and the faeries tend to live outside them. Mortals here and up north? They’re fucking superstitious, and they’re more likely to be able to catch glimpses of—the fae, of us—than, say, anyone who lives back home. The nightlife over there? A community within a city. The nightlife over here?” He shrugs and his shoulders grind in their sockets. “Children have a bedtime for a reason. People that don’t usually have someone they pray to, or made a deal with something that lives in the middle of some farmland no one’s touched in years.”

“So how’d you get by, then?” Eren can already see the question was a reflex, can see the way Levi shuts his in the split-second of regret. It’s not a new expression by any means, but it hurts, still. Stings, a little. “I—sorry. That wasn’t the right—“

“Kids like me age like—like people.”

“Eren, what the fuck, you’re still people—“

“Kids like me age like people until we hit our magic, and then everything slows down. I guess the fae genetic system kicks in when a human would hit some sort of puberty, and then it staves that off until fuck knows when.” Christ, that takeaway place smells good. He really shouldn’t’ve burned through his magic like he had. He really should’ve at least tucked a granola bar in his back pocket. “Besides, no one’s going to say, ‘I think your kid or your wife or whoever is a soul-sucker.’ Most of the time.”

Disbelief gives way to bemusement, gives way to displeasure, gives way to, “most of the time.” Levi’s nose wrinkles, and he kicks a loose stone down the slope ahead of them, lined with closed restaurants and the single Indian takeaway place, with businesses and parked cars. The can hear it long after it disappears from view. “Eren.”

Levi slows to a stop, just ahead of him, and he turns his body so that they’re facing one another. At his back is the rest of High Street, the River Elwy, the rest of town—the home that Eren had grown up in. His eyes are liquid mercury, circling a black hole.

“Uh,” Eren says. “Yes?”

“What do you hear when you go through a Door?” The breeze is playing with the ends of Levi’s hair, and this is a picture to savor. It’s—something else. Levi, and the town he grew up in. Levi, and his cheeks are pink and his lips are chapped and his face is so, so serious. Levi, and Eren, and magic that he hasn’t tasted in a long, long time.

God, he wants to kiss him. That’s the least romantic question ever, and Eren wants to kiss him anyway.

“I told you. Depends on what baggage you bring.” His breath is white, then peach under the streetlight, then gone.

“That’s not what I asked. What do you hear? Not, like, generally.” Eyelashes against Levi’s cheek when he blinks.

Eren’s lips are dry when he draws his tongue over them. “Depends. I don’t—I mean, it’s not like I use Doorways all the time. I haven’t—it’s been years. Tonight got a little crazy, I guess, so I’m just tired, and I—I took someone with me. I relocated him, before. He was a changeling. He’d—you know.” The pause feels like an ice sheet waiting to break, but Levi doesn’t say anything. Just waits. “Connie and I listen to police chatter, emergency calls, all that. It’s how we—before a changeling ends up in a morgue, you know?”

Levi doesn’t laugh, or smile—but he blinks, drops his eyes to Eren’s knees, and he frowns.

(Whispers from the shadows, laughter, and the smell of death-and-ice, or a frozen corpse, of something mummified crawling out of a too-cold tomb. There’d been four, maybe. Just enough to cause a problem, but not enough to take him out for good, maybe.

Someone had been playing with their food. Again.

Hands, grabbing for his thighs, covered in Franz’s blood. Shocks of magic that connected more often than not, but where ultimately unimpressive. Eren’s heart beating in his own throat, the last Slaugh falling hard on an iron knife that had hissed against his skin when it had connected.

A wheezing sort of laugh, a dying whisper, “you stole something from us. return it.”

Maybe it hadn’t been so surprising that there’d been a ghost tagging along with him.)

Eren continues, wiping and his nose. “Anyway, rough night. His name was Franz, and he followed me, I guess. I’d hoped he’d been dead long enough, that it wouldn’t be a problem. But he’d been bait, and I’d fallen for it.” His palms are sweating officially, now. It’s uncomfortable in this weather. “But that’s rare, really. Hardly ever meet a fresh corpse, and it’s not like I was you, carrying around all of... that.” That almost makes Levi smile. Eren can see it at the corners of his mouth. “Usually, I guess, I just hear me.”

An exhale, like a falling rock. Levi’s hand comes up to his own chest and presses against his sternum like he’d been hit there. “That’s—a little fucked up, don’t you think?”

When Eren snorts, his head aches. He hates that expression on Levi’s face. Hates the fact that he’s the one that put it there, too.

(Riverwater. Mud. Hands in grasses too slimy to get a grip on. Hand on the back of his head.

Life, bursting around him, filling up his mouth as he’d died the first time.)

“Hadn’t really noticed.” Eren knows there’s sweat on his palm, just like he knows that it’s cold outside. He knows that calluses always feel worse in cold weather, just like he knows that he shouldn’t even be here in the first place. But he offers his hand for Levi to take, lets the chill tease at the back of his neck with a gentle touch. “But come on. I’m tour-guiding, not trying to harsh our vibe.”

Levi watches. Waits. And the breeze caresses his face, softly. “How come all this shit happens to you?”

“I’m a capable young man,” Eren tells him, wiggling his fingers. “And I’ve got you, right? Mr. ‘I-agree-to-crazy-shit-like-transatlantic-travel-for-fun.’ Keeping me on time and all that shit. A fucking enabler of all my terrible habits, like verbal puzzles and caffeine addiction. Some people aren’t so lucky. They’re just grumpy.”

“Shut up.” Levi takes his hand, falling into step beside him as they walk in the opposite direction, toward the farmland moors and the River Clwyd. “I told you before, maybe I always wanted to get stolen away on some bullshit adventure. You’re—fucking unbelievable. I—“ There it is. The vice grip, returned in all its glory. “I’m... sorry. For all the... stuff.” When Levi clears his throat, it sounds like sand in a glass jar. “So... Hannes seems nice.”

“He is,” Eren agrees. “Mostly. After we—“ A raven, chattering above the takeaway restaurant, ruffling its feathers against the cold. “After we moved from here, my mom was always busy. Like, Hannes was my babysitter before, but he was around all the time while we were in Cardiff, and then in London. I didn’t know he’d moved to the Pacific ‘til today. I just assumed he’d still be here.”

“It was always just me and my mom,” Levi says after two moments’ worth of silence. “At home, I mean. My father was a piece of shit, I’m pretty sure, and so was my uncle. We did just fine.”

It’s—equal, when Levi does that. That’s not shocking. There’d been the planetarium, the surgical atrium, the—his fucking birthday. But there’s a level of equivalence in this tit-for-tat whatever-they’re-doing that feels... overwhelming. Like—like ‘here, this is mine,’ and ‘okay, here’s mine.’

This isn’t magic, but it feels like it is. It’s too old for words.

“Hannes was—I mean, he was kind of my dad.” It feels strange, saying that out loud. It’s not something he’s ever admitted before. Then again, he supposes that he’s not quite a teenager anymore. “But don’t tell him I said that. He’s the one who taught me to swear, to throw shit, to... I don’t know. Be... human, I guess.”

“Isn’t that weird? For a—a faerie.”

Eren laughs, barely loud enough to scrape the roof of his mouth, and there’s a mix of energy in his mouth. Seattle and Llanelwy, old and new, moorland peat and asphalt. “He’s not a faerie. He’s human, just like you. Well—not just like you. But like you.”

Levi’s eyebrows arch, and his breath can be seen on puffs of white as they climb back up the hill they’d come from. The sky is softening into a deep purple, melting underneath the weight of what’s to come. “Okay, so, do you want me to actually ask the question, or are you just going to tell me?”

“Because I’m kind and giving, I’m going to tell you,” Eren says into Levi’s laughter, echoing down the street, probably hitting the Clwyd like a skipping stone. “He’s dead, but he’s like... an employee. He works for—he works for my mom. Only humans can do this job, usually. Lesser fae that’re made for this shit ride with the Hunt, punish souls, all that. Fuck if I know why. But it’s another way someone can make a bargain with the fae—service, for your life. I’m sure you’ve heard of deals like those.”

Their feet, hissing against the concrete. Music, still going in the distance. Whatever fae they are, they’re almost certainly off their faces by now, wasted on wine aged for this season. “He works for your mom.” A laugh, killed early, and it turns into a scoff. “I should’ve put that together. He—“ Levi shakes his head, looks down, looks up again, “he’s nice, kid.”

“I know.” Eren changes their direction, transitioning them from the sidewalk to grass, the soil beneath their feet the same hard-soft mixture of the graveyard. “Shit, though, keep this up, and you’ll meet my whole family eventually. Connie’ll brag that he met you first.”

There’s... something complicated happening on Levi’s face just then. A twist of his lips, a furrow between his brows—and then, a smile. It’s small, but fuck if it isn’t a smile so soft that it makes the scenery around them look like watercolor. “You’re pretty shitty at keeping me out of your goddamn business, huh?”

Levi’s lips would be chapped beyond belief if they kissed right now. Eren’s heart flutters under his ribs at the thought of that.

“You’re just really great at being nosy, more like. I’d been doing fine at it, before.”

Levi takes a breath and holds it before he lets it out like steam from a train, letting it rise toward the sky that’s getting lighter. The stars have already started to fade into pinpricks. “That? I’m not sorry for.”

“I really didn’t expect you to be, but thanks anyway.”

The grass crunches beneath their feet, stiff as it is with the frost that’s covering everything else. Will-o’-wisps dance in pairs farther along the shrub-line, some of them ducking toward the jagged edges of the trees. Eren can almost hear them whispering, even from this far away. If he shuts his eyes, it’s almost distinct—the will-o’-wisps, the faerie songs, the sound of practically silent paws on damp soil, the breeze between the frozen grasses making the scenery sing like windchimes.

Even the Seattle inside his head can appreciate peace like this.

In the center of someone’s private properly, just out of view of the River Clwyd, Eren stops.

With Eren’s fingers held in his own, Levi can’t help but follow suit.

His hand is cold when he lets Levi go, shrugging his jacket from his shoulders, shaking it out to drape it over the frosted-over ground. Here, there are almost no obstructions to the horizon, barring some trees rising from the river’s shoreline and some shrubbery put in lines that make attempts at squares to denote one person’s land from someone else’s.

Eren is sure that there are faerie rings that the shrubs were built around.

“Aren’t you going to freeze your fucking fingers off?” Levi’s arms are crossed over his chest, and there’s stubbornness tensing up the lines of his shoulders. “Is this necessary?”

Eren shifts his weight between his feet, curling the fingers of one hand under his chin. “I guess we could stand, or sit on the cold, probably-wet ground as if the hallway in the hospital’s basement wasn’t freezing enough, but, you know, it’s your choice.”

Silence, but not really. Faerie-music and wisp-whispers, wind across the dirt and through trees. The sky is going pink while they stand there. And then, “fine. But I’m buying coffee on the way back to your place.” Another pause that’s anything but silent, because Eren can feel his heartbeat drumming in his ears. There’s a dryness to his throat that has nothing to do with the cold. Because—“If... I can walk you home,” Levi continues. “I know it’s been the other way around, but we’re—“

Levi sets his jaw and Eren wants to kiss him. He doesn’t know what he wants to say to that, sure, but fucking hell does he want to kiss him.

“I want to walk you home,” Levi says. “I want you to let me walk you home. For once.”

Gold is beginning at the edge of the horizon to the east. Eren’s surprised that he can see that from here, because he feels like he ought to be laid out on the ground from the—the weight of that. Or something.

“Okay,” Eren says, and his voice comes out a hiss. He clears his throat and tries again. “Okay, sure. But can we get, like... food instead?”

Levi blinks at him, once. Blinks twice. And then—that fucking smile. That watercolor smile. “Yeah. Sure. We’ll finally be even.”

nah, Eren wants to say, even as the words get stuck in his throat. i don’t really think we’ll ever be even.

With a cough that still tastes like blood, even though his nosebleeds have probably frozen in his sinuses for the second time, he takes a seat on the jacket, beckoning Levi down with one hand. “Whatever. Sit down, the show’s about to start. This is what we came here for.”

Levi snorts, easing onto the ground in a way that he can keep his knees close to his chest, and he looks up, watching. The dimness smudges the edges between his profile and the world around them. Eren’s chest feels tight, and he wonders if he’ll survive this.

Sunrises are slow things, after all.

“You know something?” Levi says. Eren watches the way he says it.

“What?”

“This place smells like you.” It’s almost a whisper, and the sun is cresting, like a whale in water. Light begins to make its way toward them. “Your magic. It’s weird, but—“ Levi makes a face, and his eyelashes are golden. “But I can see this place in you, a little. Even when you’re definitely some city-kid.”

“Says the guy with a Prius, born in a metropolis.” It’s taking a ridiculous amount of effort to move his jaw like this, to speak like this, when all he wants to do is take Levi’s face between his hands and hope that there isn’t any more blood beneath his fingernails. He wants to know if Levi’s cheeks would warm up beneath his palms as he brought their faces together for a—

Eren pulls his eyes away, and looks out at the fields.

The sunlight catches on some treetops, works its way around their shadows, and turns the frosted grass into a kaleidoscope of color. Each blade turns into a tiny prism, throwing different perspectives of the visible spectrum of light in a thousand directions. It stretches toward them by inches, and it’s mostly red, and it’s gorgeous, and the light is hurting Eren’s eyes to look at it. It’s making them water.

Eyes like his weren’t made for sunlight, really.

But god, just listen to Levi talk.

“Holy shit,” Levi says beside him, and he’s shifting from holding onto his knees to sitting on his knees, watching the movement of the sun along the grass with one hand shading his eyes from the glare. “Holy shit. Holy shit. Eren, what the fuck.”

“Didn’t I tell you so?” Eren makes his voice a sing-song, some bastardization of a simple spell that he really doesn’t have the juice for, but does it anyway. “I told you there was nothing else like a Welsh sunrise.”

Eren presses his fingers into the dirt behind him and pushes out.

His magic is hot in his mouth, tastes like the countryside, like heather and rainwater, and he can feel the electricity of it hurtling through his circulatory system like he was sitting right in the middle of Seattle itself. A wind that’s not in any way natural whips through the grasses, shifting the prisms from red to gold, gold to orange, orange to pink, and back again, as if they’d been sitting in the middle of the ocean.

It sends two chisels of pain right behind his eyes, makes his nose go warm and oozy, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he’s going to felt like he’d been hit by a train tomorrow.

But Levi’s looking at the horizon, and his eyes are shining, and one of his hands is reaching out to hold onto Eren’s shoulder. He’s shaking him, and he’s laughing, a little, and there will be beautiful laughlines on Levi’s face later in life.

“You were fucking right,” Levi says, and he sounds like he’d just got done running around the world, and Eren catches his nosebleed with his thumb before Levi turns to look at him, before Eren can see his pupils go wide with awe, before he can see the way his eyes move back and forth along Eren’s face.

Eren wonders what he has to look like, in lighting like this. Wonders if he wears a sunrise half as well as Levi does.

“Hey,” Levi says, and the back of his hand is pressed to Eren’s cheek. It’s cold against his face. “You okay? Your... eyes are watering.”

“Yeah,” Eren says, and there’s a willpower he didn’t know he had that’s keeping him from leaning into Levi’s touch. “Homesick. Fucking thrilled. You should see your face.”

Levi scoffs, shoves at his cheek with no malice, with good humor, with an almost-laugh. He turns his attention back to the sunrise, keeping one hand pressed to his brows to make sure he doesn’t go blind from it, to make sure he doesn’t miss a second of the way the world looks when it’s freshly bathed in the morning.

Eren sniffles and tastes blood.

“Thank you,” Levi tells him, and maybe there’s water in his eyes too. “Holy shit, thank you for this.”

This is worth it, one hundred percent.

(When the bell above the shop door rings, it will be two-twenty-nine in the morning, Pacific Time, and Eren’s head will be fucking killing him. The city will be too noisy in his head, he’ll feel like his hands were never made of anything lighter than scrap metal, and his feet will definitely bring to mind the idea of cinderblocks, duct-taped to his ankles.

Connie will know right away, because Eren’s done this before.

But Levi will have two boxes of pizza, and they’ll still be hot, and Eren’s nose won’t quite be threatening to bleed anymore. Right then, anyway.

“oh,” Connie will say, and the store will smell like his magic—like cinnamon and maple syrup—and there will be some bullshit horror movie playing on his laptop, dyeing the wall behind him in faded shades of grey-white. “shit. hi, doctor-medical-examiner levi.”

“it’s just levi,” will be the reply. Eren will already be leaning against the counter, will already be dusting away the feeling of blood on his knees. Wales will have left the taste of memories between his teeth. “but i brought pizza. somebody implied he was starving.”

“somebody is always starving, because somebody is always up to something,” Connie will agree, solemnly. The pizzas will change hands, and the smell will be overwhelming. Eren’s stomach won’t be able to shut the fuck up. “are you staying? i was watching nosferatu. it’s on hulu.”

Levi will look from Connie to Eren, and Eren will feel—relief. He’ll feel—something. And he’ll smile, a little.

“yeah,” Levi will say, into the store that smells like magic. He’ll speak like he belongs there, and Eren will want him to, even as a part of him flinches, knows this is dangerous, knows this is fucking stupid. But he’s a fucking sucker for happy endings, isn’t he? “i’d planned on it.”

Connie will smile, and he will say, “then i’m going to get some plates. one sec.”

Oh yes. Fuck yes. God yes. Everything will have been worth it, standing there in Pacific Time. Even the fucking ghost he’d brought with him to the morgue.

Surely this will be something that Eren will remember for the rest of his life.)

[storiesofwildfire]

Major Blog Updates as of Feb 12th, 2019

A couple weeks ago, I posted a hiatus notice that I would be going on a temporary hiatus while I cleaned up and reorganized by blog. 

Important changes:

i. First and foremost, probably the most obvious, a URL change. For over six years, I used the same URL, so I’ve finally updated it to storiesofwildfire

ii. Bio updates. Originally, I said I was going to edit and possibly rewrite my bio. After reading through my bio, I found that I was still happy with a lot of it, so I just edited things that needed updating as well as adding more information where I felt it was lacking. 

Things added or changed in the biography:

Added personality tab

Extended stats to include or clear up important information

More thorough explanation of Loki’s magic in the bio

More thorough explanation of Loki’s children and who knows about them in the bio

Completely rewrote Loki’s relationship with Sigyn in the bio

More thorough explanations of how Odin manipulated, used, and controlled Loki throughout his life

Other things that I’m probably not thinking of right now cause my brain is scattered.

Just read it okay? I worked really hard on it and I’d appreciate the read!

iii. Overhaul of pop-up tabs. Now my dossier, verses, and secondary muses pop-ups have collapsible sections in them, allowing me to move information that was previously in clickable links right onto the pop-up! Now you can read my verses and bios for my side characters just by clicking on the headers inside the tabs. No redirection necessary!

iv. Some verses have been removed from my verse overview for simple lack of current interest on my part or never used by any of my partners. 

These verses include:

v; a book of fairy tales - Once Upon a Time verse

v; i carry no weapon; for i am - Four Horsemen of the Apocolypse verse

v; jotun runt (by appearance) - I don’t feel the need to give Loki in his Jotun form it’s own verse anymore, it’s simply Loki. This verse will still make an appearance, but will only cover Loki raised on Jotunheim

v; lady loki - I don’t feel the need to give Lady Loki her own verse because she’s still Loki

v; namesaked - Viking verse

v; never shall we die - Pirate verse

v; there be walkers - The Walking Dead verse

v; they’re not the predators anymore - Attack on Titan verse

v; uncertainty - Amnesia verse

v; war on midgard - AU where the events of the Avengers happened differently. I still do threads like these all the time, but they tend to fall into different verses, making this tag useless.

These have been removed from my verses pop-up, but most of the write-ups still exist in my verses info tag. If people are still interested in them, I’m more than happy to write them!!

v. Rules have been updated and elaborated on. Please read them.

Changes still to come: 

Everything I have left to do is pretty cosmetic at this point. 

i. I am still planning on creating a new background for my theme, as I’m pretty tired of looking at this one. Photo editing does take me a while, though, so I simply haven’t finished the background yet. Once I have the background completed, font colors and such will likely be changed as well.

ii. I still need to write up a couple of verse descriptions. Currently, they are still listed as TBU within the pop-up tab!

iii. Still have lots of headcanons to write that I haven’t gotten around to yet. They’re sitting in my drafts and will come as I feel like writing them.

iv. New promo featuring my new URL.

v. New icon and new hover banner (though I’m hoping to knock those out tonight)

vi. Possibly adding photos to my verse tab. I haven’t decided on that yet.

Anyways... I wanted to give everyone a thorough run-down on everything I’ve done and everything I’m still planning to do. I also want to thank everyone for their patience. Now that most of the overhaul has been completed, I’m going to go back to regularly updating and will, hopefully, get through drafts and asks here soon. I have a lot, though, so getting caught up is probably going to take some time.